#I can’t even sit cross legged my muscles hurt too much

[pimosworld]

Show me your teeth

Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Summary-You want Miguel to bite you during sex.(that’s it that’s all.)

CW-18+MDNI,NSFW,angst,comfort,fluff,kissing,establishedrelationship,consent,biting,smut,unprotected piv,piv cream pie,softdom Miguel.

A/N- I haven’t heard show me your teeth by Lady Gaga in years and then it came on the radio twice after I saw the movie so that inspired this shameless smut. Thank you @melodygatesauthor for answering my question about his fangs paralyzing (she’s like,just don’t have them paralyze 😂).

WK-1.2k

Not beta read

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s pacing around the room fidgeting with his hands and you almost feel bad for even asking. He definitely was not shy in the bedroom but you may have crossed a line. 

  “Please baby.” You 're not above begging and you know it’s his weakness. 

  “Just this once.” The finality in his tone isn’t questioned-usually.

  “Mhmm.” 

  “What do you mean Mhmm, I said I’ll do it just this once.” He’s completely stopped pacing and is now glaring at you with his arms crossed. The expanse of his broad shoulders and bulging biceps has you momentarily distracted. You would think he would’ve caught on by now that you get turned on when he’s mad. 

  “Well…what if I like it or you like it and we want to do it again? I don’t want to say just this once,just in case.” You’re suddenly noticing patterns in your carpet you've never seen before because you refuse to lift your eyes and meet his intensity. 

  He lets out a deep sigh and runs his hand through his hair. "Fine, but we need to establish some boundaries and make sure we're both comfortable with it." You nod in agreement, relieved that he's willing to compromise. "I just don't want to hurt you," he repeats, his voice softer this time.

  “You have to tell me to stop if it’s too much…because I won’t be able to.” You nod your head in agreement. 

  You stand up and walk over to him, placing a hand on his chest. "I trust you," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. "And I know you would never intentionally hurt me." He leans down and kisses you gently, his hands resting on your hips. 

He stands back and takes off his clothes slowly, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing with each movement. He grins as he notices you staring at him. 

  “Like what you see hermosa?” He asks teasingly 

  You can’t help but smile back feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your body. 

  “desnudate y siéntate en mi regazo.”(undress and sit on my lap.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you're ready for this level of intensity, but the look in his eyes tells you that he won't take no for an answer.

You slowly begin to undress, feeling his gaze on you the entire time. Once you're completely naked, you walk over to him and straddle his lap, feeling his hard cock pressing against your ass. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

"Good girl," he whispers, his hands roaming over your body. "You look so fucking sexy like this."

You moan softly, feeling your arousal growing with each passing moment. He begins to kiss and nibble on your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. You gasp and arch your back, pressing your ass harder against his cock.

 "Please," you beg, needing more. "I need you."

 He leans in and bites your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You moan in pleasure, feeling the heat between your legs grow. He pulls back and looks at you, his eyes dark with desire. 

  "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to form words as the desire consumes you. He leans in again, biting down harder this time. You cry out, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure. He continues to bite and suck on your neck, leaving marks that you know will last for days. He licks and soothes it with his tongue and your arousal is slowly dripping onto the couch below. 

He moves to the other side of your neck and sinks in, the low whimpers of his name and the tears streaming down your face spur him on-he will definitely want to do this again.

 You can feel his cock twitch against your back steadily leaking precum, his resolve quickly fading as he’s consumed by the feel of your plush skin on his fangs. 

 “Miguel please.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

  He chuckles darkly, his fingers trailing down your stomach and slipping between your legs. "You're so wet," he murmurs, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

“Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," you moan, grinding against his hand.

 "Please, fuck me."

He stands up, still holding you tightly, and carries you over to the bed. His strength shouldn’t shock you but it does every time. You know he could destroy you if he wanted too but he always takes his time. 

He lays you down and climbs on top of you, gripping the base of his thick cock with his hand as he slowly drags it through your slit. 

  "Are you ready?" he asks, looking into your eyes.

  "Yes," you whisper, and he slowly begins to push inside you. The feeling of him filling you up is almost too much to bear, and you moan loudly,wrapping your legs around his waist.

  “Paciencia amor se que puedes tomar lo que te doy.”( patience love,I know you can take what I give you.) 

  He whispers in your ear as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He’s stretching and filling you completely as your back arches off the bed. He’s holding you like a life line as he grunts and moans above you. 

  “Fuck you look so pretty falling apart in my cock.”

  He picks up the pace hitting something harder and deeper inside. His senses are heightened and he knows you’re getting close. Being the tease that he is he slows down-you know he wants you to beg for it.

  “Please don’t stop Miguel…I'm so close.” 

  “What do you say when you want to come preciosa?” He growls into your ear as he grips your hips tighter, fighting off his release. 

  “Please papí…” He didn’t let you finish as he sank his teeth into your breast, your climax shooting up your spine as your body shakes beneath him. You can still feel him grinding his thick cock through your swollen cunt as he chases his release. Your body is overwrought but his stamina would have him going for hours. 

  He comes with a shout as he spills himself inside you groaning into your neck. He shushes your soft whimpers with his mouth as he places pepper light kisses on you. 

  “You did so good for me…always so good to me.”

  He knows you can’t bear the full weight of him as he tries not to collapse into you. You pull him closer loving the grounding feel of his body against yours as you both come down trying to catch your breath. 

  As you drift off to sleep you know you’ll have fun explaining those marks tomorrow. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[imaginesmai]

Something new - Azriel

Another kinktober fic! I've seen this trope SO MUCH lately, I couldn't help myself.

Plot: Azriel proposes something new, and even if you have doubts, you're all in.

Warnings: just porn , facesitting, shadowplay.

Azriel is looking at you with a raised brow, a smug smile on his face. He’s silently daring you to bring up another argument, only so he can dismantle it as easily as the rest of them.

It’s hard enough to deny his petition. Not only it’s unusual for him to ask anything, to be comfortable enough around you to talk about sexual fantasies and desires. It is hard because he is completely naked. You can spend hours staring at his sculped chest, muscles hard and wide, covered in tattoos.

And you don’t even want to drag your eyes lower, where his cock is standing tall, demanding your attention.

Usually, you would be more than happy to give it all the attention you have. But Azriel has stopped you moments ago and proposed something different. Something you have never tried, although it has crossed your mind sometimes. Multiple times, actually.

“I will be fine” he assures you for the sixth time that evening. “I promise, darling. I’m a trained warrior, I push my body each day to the limit in the ring with Cassian. If I can take down Illyrian warriors, I can hold your weight”

“Or not” you rebate. “You can’t compare sparing to Cassian to me sitting on your face”

“Certainly not, I’m sure it will be far more pleasant”

Sex with Azriel is never monotonous, he makes sure of it. Even if the shadowsinger is an introvert and quiet on the outside, inside the bedroom he shows you a different part of him. You are used to playing games, some of them involving his shadows, ropes, and even wax.

You have enjoyed each and every of them, and you know you will enjoy what he is proposing even more. But still, you are doubtful about it.

“I could hurt you without meaning to. And what if you can’t breathe? How am I supposed to notice?” you repeat the questions, and he just blinks unamused. “We don’t know if it’s safe. Maybe someone has died and no one has reported it. Death by asphyxiation, under mysterious circumstances. Maybe their partner was shoving their – “

“What better way to die than between your legs?” Azriel cuts you off with a deep, loud chuckle. Tired of the banter, he grabs your hand and pushes you forward. “My shadows will make sure I live to do this again, don’t worry. Now let me have my dessert”

Any other time, you hope, you would have been more hesitant. But you have been both naked for a long time now, lazily making out and grinding against each other in bed. There are purple spots all over your neck and chest, where Azriel has been buried minutes ago. And your nails are printed all over his back and ass.

Before you can act on your newest fantasy, Azriel brings you close. He presses his lips against yours, as he has done already a thousand times that night.

They are swollen and soft, his hand holding the back of your head to keep you close. It brushes gently your hair, easing your worries away. His tongue traces the edge of yours, as if he hasn’t almost shoved it down your throat an hour ago.

Azriel eases the both of you until you are laying on his chest, wings sprawled under him. All it takes is for your sneaky fingers tracing the membrane of his left one for him to break the kiss.

His left hand gives you a playful smack on your ass and pushes you forward.

“Come on, Y/N” he growls, his shadows pushing you forward too.

“Let me know if it becomes too much” you remind him as you get to your knees.

“Sure”

“And if I’m too heavy, please don’t die” you place your hands on the headboard.

“I won’t die, I promise”

“If you feel like you can’t breathe, you touch my – “

“Get here”

You are still hesitant, hovering over his face with your knees at either side of his head. But Azriel, who has quite patient, doesn’t let you finish. He grips the top of your thighs and pulls down, his shadows fixing your hands on the headboard so you can’t pull yourself up.

And damn.

Any coherent thought leaves your head as he licks a long strip through your soaked folds, parting them without any care. You suck a breath when he reaches your opening and doesn’t stop for a second before digging in.

His shadows are the only thing cold on your body as you almost melt against his face, not caring anymore about asphyxiation or crushing him. Azriel is griping you so hard that there will be purple fingerprints on your legs the next day. And if the shadows holding you in place and his mouth devouring you isn’t enough, one of his hands gropes a handful of your ass and pulls you closer to him.

“You’re so sweet” Azriel mumbles from under you, his teeth grazing your clip and taking a deep moan out of you. “Coul be here all day”

“Az”

“My sweet pussy”

He isn’t possessive, at least not when you are public. Behind closed doors, he owns your body and soul. Your grip on the headboard almost flatters when he sucks hard on your clit, taking the small button between his lips, brushing his tongue underneath.

All you can smell is him, his arousal, and all you can hear is him lapping your juices. You don’t have to look back to know there’s a hand wrapped around his cock, a hand that isn’t his entirely. His shadows must have touched a sensitive spot, because his body is bucking up and you almost fall to the side, if it wasn’t for his hands holding you in place.

You try to get one hand free. Maybe to pull at his hair, to cover your mouth. Azriel doesn’t let you.

“Let me – I need a hand” you moan again when he starts leaving kisses from your clit to your opening, covering any reachable spot. “Azriel, let me go”

“No”

His voice resonates in your cunt and that is almost enough to bring you close to the edge. Only his presence would be enough, the presence of an Illyrian male that falls on his knees in front of you, that is completely yours.

Azriel knows your body and knows you’re close, so instead of letting go of any of your hands, he speeds up. All you feel are his teeth, his lips and his tongue on your pussy, on your folds, on your clit. He rounds the sensitive spot as the shadows rip a moan out of him, and the next second he has his tongue in you, his nose brushing your clit.

Like a madman who hasn’t eaten in days, he devours you whole. You are almost sure he has stopped breathing a while ago, but before you can make sure he’s fine, you’re cumming.

Without your hand to cover your mouth, anyone within hearing range hears you breaking down screaming his name as you cum on his face. He rides through your orgasm without even changing the pace, and black dots appear on your line of sight.

“Az, I can’t – Azriel, stop –“

He doesn’t, and before you know it, your tights are trapping his head between your legs and you’re having the best orgasm of your life. He continues licking any juice that leaves your body, alternating between eating you out and assaulting your clit.

The shadows let go when there’s nothing left in you to give, and Azriel has barely time to catch you as you fall to the side, completely spent.

He manages to pull you back to him, and when you open your eyes again, you’re met with his hazel ones looking down at you with only love and adoration. His lips and chin are shinning with your juices, and without breaking eye contact, he licks them clean.

It’s certainly enough to make you notice the shadows around his shaft.

“I’m alive” Azriel smirked. “Are you?”

“That was the best orgasm of my life”

Your confession drags an ego boost out of him, that you feel through the bond. You smile when his hand finds your cheek and caress it loving. If you asked, you are sure he would turn around and try to sleep with a painful boner. And if you asked, he would totally use his shadows to keep you up and go for a second round.

Before he can propose any of them, you prop up on your elbow and drag your nails down his chest.

They follow the pattern of his tattoos, and he watches you with a raised eyebrow. His expression quickly changes when your fingers find his nipple, your thumb flickering it gently.

“Return the favor?” you propose, with a knowing smile.

The next thing you know, Azriel’s lips are once more on you and his cock pressed against your stomach.

You’re in for a long night.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[kybercrystals94]

Fine

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 18 - Prompt: Loss of Identity

Rated: T | Words: 511

Fives and Echo. 

Echo and Fives. 

Now, it’s just Echo. 

Echo. 

Echo.

Echo. 

“Echo,” Rex says, sitting down next to him, “How are you doing?” 

Awful, terrible. Everything hurts, soul deep to the surface of my skin. Even my missing limbs ache, and they aren’t even here anymore. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense…

“Better,” Echo says. He smiles, because if he doesn’t he’ll cry. He holds up his arms, the sleeves of the shirt he borrowed from the big clone – Wrecker? – far too long and drooping at the ends. “Although, I feel like a cadet in these.” 

Rex chuckles. “We’ll be able to find you something with a better fit once we’re back to the base.” 

It’s supposed to make him feel better. He knows it is. He knows. He knows. But the thought of trying to find something that will fit him, the way he is now instead of the way he was…there’s no comfort in it. He’s lost the muscle mass he’d gained, and gained cold metal where he lost his limbs. 

No, he has to change the subject before he spirals to depths he won’t be able to climb out of. 

Echo glances at Wrecker, snoring loudly in a crash seat across from the pull down cot he’s sitting on (they had tried to get him to lay down, to rest, but closing his eyes is the last thing he wants to do, the glare of ones and zeroes still seared to the inside of his eyelids). “Tell me about them. What’s their story?” 

Rex follows his eyeline. “Clone Force 99? I don’t know much about them myself. Cody called them in. As capable as they are insane, that lot.” 

“I assure you, insanity has nothing to do with it,” Tech says, coming into the hold, eyes trained on his data pad. “To properly answer your question, Echo, we are an elite squad of clones developed to have desirable mutations. Therefore, we are uniquely qualified for high risk missions given our advanced skill set.”

Rex sighs. “That’s exactly what I was going to say,” he mutters to Echo.

“Liar,” Echo murmurs back. 

The attempt to lighten the mood almost works, and Echo pretends it does. Because, if he pretends long enough, that he’s fine, that everything will be fine, he’ll start to believe it. Because this is his new reality. A world separated by then and now, connected by a bridge long since burned that he can’t cross back over. And he will be fine. He isn’t dead. 

Fives is dead. 

Rex didn’t have to tell him, Echo didn’t have to ask. 

But Echo will be fine. He’s already decided. 

What’s two missing legs and an arm? What’s internal organs replaced and spliced with cybernetics? What’s a brother lost forever, his last word to you, your own name? 

Rex bumps him with his shoulder, and Echo bumps him back. 

“I’ll be fine,” he says, voice so soft it is almost just an exhale, answering the unspoken, reiterated question. 

But what if I’m not?

END

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[hajiimes]

fine.

pairing: oikawa tooru x gn!reader tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, breaking up warnings: allusions to post timeskip word count: 1.1k author's note: if this looks familiar, that's bcuz it's a repost from another one of my old blogs (httpoiks) from abt a year ago if i remember correctly! i revamped this one because i absolutely love this one so much and i hope you do too!!!

masterlist

“I wish I could love you,” He says absentmindedly, the cruelty of his words and the way they tumble from his mouth easily betraying what he felt in his heart. His hands fidget nervously, fingers tapping against his knee thoughtlessly—as if he needed a distraction to be near you, like he didn’t want to focus on you. He acts like he’s pained to even be in your presence, eyes flicking across the room as he passes right over your form. 

He doesn’t even see you, but your hand reaches out for him. Muscle memory betrays the fact that all you want is to comfort him, but he pulls away just as your fingertips brush his quivering palm.

Shaking hands and brown eyes devoid of tears finally look at you, his lips pulled into a tight line—thin and solitary. You remember pressing your lips against his, kissing that pout off his face during his dramatic outbursts. Where did that display of care get you? Where are you now in relation to him? Standing in your kitchen during an early morning confrontation, begging him to stay as he begs you to leave. 

Oikawa Tooru, you realize, has never been one to stay. Never has he ever sacrificed his urge to run and decided to stay with the ones he loves and those who love him in return. You should’ve known better. His friends had told you stories of before on silent winter nights, cicadas chirping as you sipped a glass-bottled soda in the sweltering Argentine heat. They’d told you of his life back in Japan, his urges to run as far as his legs could take him, his hatred for being held down, and the way he’d fled Miyagi without looking back—leaving behind friends and family that only wanted to lift him in their arms and care for him. 

You were a fool when you met him, thinking he could change. You were still a fool for making yourself think he would stay. 

It’s four in the morning—too early for either of you to be up, but there you stand. Chestnut locks of hair sweep across his forehead, framing his face in that charming way you’d always loved. He looks like an angel in the sparse light that illuminates the stove, impeccable even in the hours when he should be sleeping in your shared bed. There’s a perfection to him you only see when he dons his facade and something in your body aches as you recognize it. 

You wish he would come back to bed, shed his coat, and slip back under the covers with you. He won’t, he can’t, but you just wish he would. 

He’s ready to leave. 

A shaky breath rattles in your chest and you harshly blink away the tears that had began to form behind your eyelashes. You face him head on: “Why are you lying to me?” It’s an unfair question, one that you’d known would catch him off-guard. So many times before, he’d been able to leave without question, without someone explicitly telling him to stay. 

He pulls back as if he’s been shot, staggering backward with a hand pressed gently to his heart. “Please,” You continue, “Stay.” 

Oikawa looks at you sadly, opening his mouth to speak before closing it tightly once again. 

“If you won’t stay, then… just hurry up and go. Don’t tell me if you love me or if you don’t, I can’t take it. If you’re going to leave just go and let me pretend I never knew you.” You cross your arms tightly over your chest, guarding the space where your heart sits. It’s a futile attempt, you’d already given it to him so long ago. Empty space rests in your chest, sternum guarding an open cavity. 

“Y/n, I-” He starts, stopping only as you push yourself away from him, out of arm’s reach. You back yourself into the cold white tile of your too-small kitchen, scampering as if you could escape the sound of his voice. 

The tile is stiff and cold when it hits the small of your back and you lean further into it, basking in the familiarity of that space you shared. Your mind goes back to mornings like this from before, when he’d give into bouts of nostalgia and cook meals his mother used to make, pressing kisses to your shoulder as you watched the rice cooker count down the minutes. You used to bask in his presence, satisfied with the way the early morning sun would catch his hair and eyes, turning chestnut to amber in your steady hands. The nights were even better—propped up against the sink as he rummaged for ice cream in the freezer, joking about already breaking his diet. The shared sodas in the afternoon, the way his hands would brush yours as you washed dishes together, the stolen kisses away from the prying eyes of your friends—the love shared between two people filling a space, vacant and void now. 

“Don’t tell me you love me, please. Tooru, I can’t take it.” You plead with him, pressing your arms further into yourself, guarding that cavernous chest of yours. 

Oikawa falls into a broken silence then, mouth left half-open. He wants to comfort you—you can see it in his body language, but his eyes are as dry as the most scorching desert. You wish he would cry for you, to show you that he at least cared. Instead, he swallows thickly and purses his sandpaper lips. “Fine.” He says, shrugging his shoulders casually as if you’d just asked him about his day. 

“Fine.” He repeats, pretending you hadn’t just asked him to forfeit every memory he had of you, every mouthed confession against the nape of your neck, every second spent together. 

Years and years and years of love shared and exchanged, given up and abandoned in a single moment—a single word. 

With a sense of finality, he turns away. He picks up his suitcase by the handle—already packed for his flight back to Japan. You can’t help but wonder how long he’d been planning this, planning to leave you in the dead of night without a word of explanation. His treacherous hands drop his keys on the counter in front of you and he leaves you there, alone once more. 

It’s only when the door slams shut behind him that you sink down, back sliding against the cabinets as your body crumples into a ball on the floor. Harrowing sobs wreck the quiet stillness of the morning, your sorrowful cries reverberating around the apartment—forever yours, never again his.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Could you do number 55 'would you just shut up and kiss me'? For torres 🥰🥰

Nick Torres: Shut Up & Kiss Me Prompt NSFW

I have a problem with short stories. I can’t seem to just do a blurb. I want to much plot and backstory. I hope you enjoy anyways! <3 

It had been a close call. Too close. You had seen the damage to his bulletproof vest. Then to his ribs. You had frantically come into the hospital when Gibb's had called and told you that your boyfriend was getting checked out after a shootout.

He had been sitting on the bed in just his jeans. From the back, he looked as invincible as always. Strong taut muscles cover by olive skin. It was only when he had turned and you saw the ugly bruising. Dark shades of purple, blue, and black. You eyed the bruise

He looked up at you all bravo, "It's nothing." You looked at him incredulously.

"You were shot!" Your voice's pitch goes higher than you intend.

"In my bulletproof vest. It doesn't even hurt." Your eyes narrow at him. You absolutely hated it when he minimized situations. You don't know what you were thinking when you reach out to press firmly on his fresh bruise. Nick yelps and jerks back. It brings a sense of satisfaction along with an immediate pang of regret.

The two of you had discussed the dangers of his job before. More than once. Some had been more heated than others. You have seen the evidence of how dangerous his job was. Cuts and scraps on his face. Bruises to different parts of his body. Skinned knuckles and black eyes. But in the year that you had been together, he had never been shot. Logically you knew that he had been in firefights before. More than he had told you. More than he could probably keep track of.

"Don't blow smoke up my ass Nicholas Miguel Torres. You could have died." His dark eyes turn innocent as he reaches out to you.

"Cariño, no te enfades. No te voy a dejar mi niña hermosa. Lo siento mi amor perdóname (Sweetheart, don't get upset. I'm not going to leave you, my beautiful girl. I'm sorry my love forgive me)"

You roll your eyes at his sweet words while he starts rubbing at your shoulders and back. He knew that his Spanish sweet talk was your weakness. It wasn't just your weakness though, nobody could resist Nick Torres's charm. Much to your dismay when it was to beautiful women.

He continues as his hands wander down your back and waist to the back of your thighs. "Simplemente no quería que te preocuparas. Prometo tener más cuidado. Cruza mi corazón. (I just didn't want you to worry. I promise to be more careful. Cross my heart.)

"Nick, would you just shut up and kiss me."

His lips find yours. They are warm, full, and demanding. You can feel the life and energy pulsing through him. He nibbles your bottom lip and your hands start tracing down his chest. Your hands accidentally find his bruise again. "Aiy!"

"Sorry, sorry baby." You mumble against his lips as you break kisses between words. He waves off your concern again. He grabs around your thighs and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He turns setting you on the hospital bed.

"Let me make it up to you." He drops down to his knees in front of you. "siéntate quieto para mí. (sit still for me)" He slides his hands up your sundress wrapping his fingers around your hips. He yanks you forward so your lace-covered pussy presses tightly against his face. His mouth open and hot on your cunt. You gasp as your hand shoots to the back of his head, gripping his short hair.

His fingers delve under your panties and pull them to the side. He licks your cunt making your leg jerk. You move your legs further over his shoulders, urging him on.

He pushes you to climax quickly and purposefully. His fingers join his mouth in pursuit of your pleasure. Your thighs tighten around his face. After the white-hot pleasure passes you look down to make eye contact with your boyfriend. He has a mischievous smile on his face along with your juices. "Am I forgiven?"

[juniperwoodwell]

Hello! I am so glad I found your page. I hope you are still taking requests.

I was thinking of one with Adam Sackler and a very level-headed significant other. Adam was always hot-headed and tended to erupt during times of argument or emotional distress. I always wondered what it would be like to have him paired with an emotionally mature girlfriend that only wants the best for him and tries to get him to open up to her and deal with his problems in a healthy manner.

I believe that the scenario can open up an opportunity for angst if during a moment when she's trying to talk him down, he throws something and she accidentally gets hurt.

The prompts that came to mind were 13. "Don't push me away." and 46. "Are we gonna talk or are you just gonna sit there and sulk?"

Thank you!

The Edge of Us

Adam Sackler x F!Reader.

Warnings: Verbal Aggression, Angst, Throwing things (Only one thing), Cursing.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for your request, it's such a great idea and I just had to write it!

It's not much but I made sure to add in those prompts! I hope you like it.

The argument was over something entirely stupid. Or at least, that’s how it felt to me. Adam, on the other hand? Well, he was Adam.

He sat on the couch, legs spread wide, arms crossed tightly over his chest like a defiant child. His jaw was set, brows furrowed, the storm brewing behind his eyes as obvious as the tension suffocating the room. I mirrored his posture as I stood in front of him, the coffee table acting as a barrier between us.

"You do know I have a life outside of this apartment, right?" I said, my hands finding my hips as I met his glare head-on.

He scoffed, the sound bitter, his lips twisting in that condescending way that never failed to make my blood boil. "Of course I do, but you’ve been out every night with your friends. You act like you hate me when you get home, then you completely ignore me in the morning before work."

I let out a sharp sigh, rolling my eyes. "That's such an exaggeration, Adam. I’ve gone out twice this week. Twice. And once was with my sister. We even invited you—remember? You said no. I don’t hate you. I have no idea where you’re even getting that from. But every time I come home, you’re on this couch, either glued to a game or watching something mindless. After a while? Yeah, I stopped trying to get your attention."

His posture snapped forward, the muscles in his arms flexing under his crossed grip as he stared me down. "That’s not true. Yesterday? I hugged you the second I walked through the door, and you didn’t even acknowledge me."

My voice dropped, steady but laced with growing frustration. "Yeah? You wanna know why?"

He shrugged, and the silence felt heavier than the words hanging between us.

"Because," I bit out, "two days ago, I asked you to pick up milk and bread—literally two things, Adam. Two. And when I got home, I couldn’t make dinner because you forgot. So I had to go out and do it myself, after working all day. And you? You just sat there like it was nothing."

His face twisted, mouth opening in that silent oh as his gaze dropped to the floor. He looked caught for half a second—before the stubbornness returned.

"Yeah, well, I told you I was gonna be busy that day," he muttered, voice tight, defensive.

"The store is next door, Adam. Not across town. You’re just too caught up in whatever you’re doing to care about this relationship. You do realize I can’t do everything for you, right? I’m not your mom."

That hit the nerve. I saw the shift, the way his body went rigid, the tension snapping like a wire stretched too thin.

Adam shot to his feet, the coffee table between us feeling too small all of a sudden. His brown eyes, usually warm, were sharp—cutting.

"Don’t give me that look," I warned, heart pounding faster than I wanted to admit.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous, his words practically vibrating with suppressed anger.

"You certainly act like my fucking mother, Y/n."

And just like that, the dam broke.

He grabbed something from the coffee table—something fragile. His hand closed around it too tightly, and before I could react, it shattered, the shards scattering as it just barely missed my head.

The sound echoed, sharp and final.

I stared at him, my body tense but my eyes steady, unsurprised.

“Oh, so we’re throwing things now? That's how we get our point across? Real mature, Adam.”

My voice was calm, but I took a step back as he rounded the coffee table, the tension in his movements coiling tighter, heavier.

We stood chest to chest, his face inches from mine. He was taller, broader, glaring down at me with those wild, furious eyes, his breathing ragged like he was barely holding it together. But me? I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cower.

He was a storm trying to swallow the room whole, and I refused to get swept up in it.

“Screw you, Y/n.” The words came out in a low snarl, venom lacing every syllable. His face twisted with something ugly—hurt masked as anger, the kind he didn’t know how to express.

Then, like the child he was acting like, he tore his glare away, shoulder checking me just enough to prove his point before storming down the hall.

The bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls.

I exhaled, a long, slow breath as the silence pressed back in. My hand dragged over my face, fingertips pressing into my temples in irritation.

So much noise. So much anger.

And yet, nothing had actually been said.

I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back as I steadied myself. This had to be solved—now—or we’d just keep spiraling further apart.

The tension still clung to the air, thick and stifling, but I refused to let it settle.

With careful, measured steps, I approached the bedroom door. My knuckles rapped lightly against the wood, the sound hollow in the silence.

"Don't shut me out," I said softly, voice calm but firm as I reached for the handle.

It turned under my grip.

The door eased open with a quiet creak, revealing him hunched over on the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed, hands tangled in his hair.

The anger that had fueled him minutes before seemed to have burned itself out, leaving only this—defeated. Raw.

"Get out," he grumbled, voice muffled and rough, like he was barely holding the cracks together.

I didn't move.

"Are we gonna talk," I asked, keeping my voice steady, "or are you just gonna sit there and sulk?"

His head snapped up.

There it was again—that flash of fire in his eyes, a spark reigniting. "Sulk? Really?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but it was brittle, the edge dulled by whatever he was holding back.

"Yeah. Sulk." I crossed my arms, standing my ground even as his glare sharpened. "This—" I gestured to him, slouched and brooding, "—is sulking. You're mad? Fine. Be mad. But throwing things? Storming off? That's not solving anything, Adam."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin as his hands curled into fists.

"You don’t get it—"

"Then explain it to me!" I interrupted, voice rising just enough to cut through his. "Stop shutting me out and tell me what you're so pissed off about!"

Silence.

For a heartbeat, I thought he was going to lash out again. His breathing was harsh, his chest rising and falling as if he was physically holding back the words.

And then, his face crumpled.

His shoulders sagged, head dropping back into his hands, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, cracked.

"You make it so damn easy to feel…invisible."

That stopped me cold.

The anger I'd been clinging to slipped through my fingers, replaced by something heavier.

"Adam…" I softened, taking a hesitant step closer.

But he shook his head, as if rejecting the comfort before I could even offer it.

"I see you going out, smiling, laughing. And I’m just—here. Stuck in my head. And I hate it. I hate feeling like I don’t matter to you anymore."

I felt my chest tighten, his words striking deeper than I expected.

"You do matter to me. But you can't just…explode every time you feel like you're being ignored. You have to talk to me, Adam. Not break things. Not shut me out."

His head lifted, eyes meeting mine. The anger was gone now, leaving only hurt and frustration in its place.

"I'm trying," he whispered.

"So am I," I whispered back.

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Tag List: @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 23: Talk it Out

“So, when’s the party going to start?”

“Five. My brothers prefer to party into the night, instead of starting in the afternoon like normal people.”

“Are you going to work beforehand?”

“Mm, probably, yoi.”

“Are you going to work on your actual birthday?

“… I’m suddenly afraid to say yes to that.”

“Even I take my birthday off work.”

“I don’t sleep overnight at the clinic.”

“…Touché.”

“Don’t worry, the staff won’t let me overwork that day, yoi.”

“Mm, this food’s almost as good as Sanji’s.”

“Yeah, Zeff doesn’t slouch, the recipes are solid even when he’s not actively preparing them, yoi. We should try and catch the Baratie when it’s nearby.”

“It doesn’t dock though.”

“Afraid of sailing?”

“Not… implicitly.”

“I’m sure we can ask Sanji to have Zeff come really close, yoi. Couple hours out at most.”

“I feel like I’m abusing my friendships doing that.”

“I bet Sanji won’t see it that way.”

“Humph, no, he wouldn’t.”

“… You have any questions? About earlier, yoi.”

“Yes, and no. He called you an old friend, do you see him that way too?”

“There’s no bad blood there. But we have different definitions of friend.”

“It’s just… This is going to sound weird no matter how I word it, but I don’t want to be nice to him if he hurt you, is all.”

“… Oh.”

“When you blush a little it’s hot, but I’ve never seen you so red…. You’re getting redder.”

“You’re killing me, yoi.”

“I… find I can’t honestly apologize.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ahem. Things just didn’t work out. I don’t think it was anyone’s fault, yoi. Shanks is… a lot, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s probably genuinely happy about all this.”

“About… us?”

“… Yeah.”

“…”

“…”

“It’s hard to talk about, and it shouldn’t be.”

“You’re not wrong, pretty bird.”

“Because it’s happening so fast, but who says you have to wait X days before you can do something, or say something, or whatever. I… I wanted to… I want to invite you to stay over.”

“I thought I was staying tonight?”

“No, yes, I mean, yes, but I meant like… bringing over a toothbrush, and… and work clothes, and you know, staying over.”

“That’s -.”

“Too soon, yeah, but I mean, it’s been on my mind and, I just needed to say it.”

“Pretty bird-.”

“If we could carpool at least, I just want to… um… see you more… Even if you can’t stay over, because maybe there’s reasons for you to go home to your brothers, and I don’t want you to think that you have to decide between them or me or anything like that. I understand if it’s too fast or too soon I won’t be upset, and -.”

“Mi cielo.”

“… Yes? That’s… that’s me, yes?”

“Yes, and I want to… stay over as well. I’ll bring over what I need, and… we’ll go from there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not… I mean, it is kind of fast, but, it’s not too much?”

“It’s not too much, yoi.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“You were quiet the rest of the ride back, what’s on your mind?”

“I… didn’t let Kid into my house for months. Not for coffee, not for… anything. Everyone else I dated was either just visiting, or… yeah. I just… I’d say I don’t know what to do with this, but I do, it’s just-.”

“Scary?”

“… Vulnerable.” You admit, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

“Same thing sometimes,” he says, sitting beside you and pulling your legs across his. Warm hands start to massage your calves and you can feel your bones melting already. “You don’t have to say it right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Where’d you learn to do this?” Your words are slurring a little as Marco’s fingers push and rub the muscles in your legs.

“When my family sailed a lot.” He explains, continuing his work. “Vitamin deficiency could happen even with the best planning, and you mix in strenuous work in the hot sun and all those factors lead up to muscle cramps. Especially in legs.”

“Family trait then?” You murmur.

“Little bit. I was, effectively, the ship’s doctor. I’d been apprenticing since I was a kid, and at ten I started learning medicine and techniques like this.”

“Then you became a vet-trim… veteran… puppy doctor?” You’re pretty sure your leg muscles are connected to your brain with the way he’s turning your entire being into mush.

“Glad to see I haven’t lost my touch, yoi.” He muses. “But yes, when we settled here, my generalized medical knowledge translated into Veterinary care easier. I bought the practice for someone getting ready to retire, and here I am.”

“Here you are.” You smile, flexing your toes and legs before moving them aside and slowly sitting up. Marco reaches out and helps you, teasing you about your melted bones even as you move - and he moves you - onto his lap.

A leg on either side of him, sitting on his thighs, eyes moving up his stomach to his chest. He’d spent most of the day in a t-shirt, having worn a heavy jacket when you’d gone out. His hands are loosely set on your hips, but he’s not moving as he watches you look at him.

“Here we are.” You say after a long moment, eyes shifting to his. You can see his eyes shifting a little, searching yours, trying to see what was behind the irises that he seemed to take every chance to lose himself in. Searching, but also waiting, wanting you to say what you wanted, when you wanted.

“I’ve… never felt toward someone what I feel toward you.” You admit, pressing your lips together and looking away a little. Despite your desire to continue, you still found yourself painfully shy on the matter. “I’ve felt connections with people, but not like this.”

“Never scary like this before.” He agrees.

“Yeah, never quite so strong.”

“Steals the breath from you before you can even breathe.”

Your lips are a whisper away from his. Your next words are quiet. Painfully quiet, but you know he’ll hear you - there’s nothing else but you and him.

“I have a devil fruit.”

“I know.”

“What if this is because of that?”

“It’s one and the same.”

“We’re… just vessels bringing them together?”

“Thousands of islands, miles of ocean, six seas, and here we are, yoi. Years on the same scrap of land, working in the same city. They aren’t that patient.” He insists. “How did I not see you all those times in his café?”

“I kept my head down.”

“You couldn’t have kept it down far enough.”

“M-Marco, haaa-nnngh!”

“From the moment you stepped into my clinic.”

“Ah, hahah, oh gods, but everything was going wrong that day!”

“I don’t think it could’ve gone better.”

“Yooooo-ur haaaaa-ands!”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“I know.”

“I already know, yoi.”

“I know.”

“I should’ve seen you sooner.”

“There’s years ahead of us.”

“One life isn’t long enough.”

“Yesteryears don’t matter.”

“I won’t focus on the what if’s, I promise.”

“I’m here now.”

“You are.”

“We are.”

“We are, mi cielo.”

“Marco.”

“…”

“I love you.”

[roundtriptojupiter]

i just sprinted across campus to escape the rain, and now i want to talk about my experiences as a cane user while i remember how to breathe again.

i started using a cane 4 years ago, at the end of elementary school. i’ve been chronically disabled (likely fibromyalgia, but currently diagnosed with myofascial pain syndrome; it’s an inaccurate diagnosis, but at least it’s something) my entire life—i struggled to sit cross-legged in kindergarten because it hurt too much, and the first accommodation i ever needed was permission to sit in a normal chair during circle time. i was born early, and both of my parents had issues with their legs in their lives; my father as a child learning to walk, and my mother in her teens, until she got knee surgery when she was 19, but neither were the same as what i have.

i’ve always been an indoor person. i’ve never enjoyed sports, but to this day i don’t know if that’s because i genuinely don’t like them, or because i always end up hurt. so my parents always thought i was just lazy and exaggerating and needed to get in shape. the third one always makes me laugh. when i look at myself in the mirror, i can count all of my ribs. i inherited it from my dad; his nickname was ‘rice’ in high school because he was white and skinny. maybe i’ll grow out of it, i don’t know. people tell me i look sick, and it kind of sucks to tell them that they’re right.

the old pastor at the church i grew up in was a professional volleyball player. there was an inter-church volleyball tournament held every year, and monthly volleyball games within the congregation. when i was in elementary school, i loved it. i loved volleyball more than any other sport i’d ever played; for the most part, i didn’t have to run anywhere, and that was what made the difference. and players were swapped around a lot, so i got a lot of breaks, and it seemed like... maybe i had just been lazy. maybe this was my lucky break.

and my parents signed me up for volleyball camp. i don’t remember how old i was—maybe twelve, thirteen? i could do the math, but my brain is too exhausted. it was only a week long. we did drills, we played games; every day i went back to my parents sobbing and exhausted, with burning red marks on my arms, barely able to stand and far worse than any other child there, even the other ‘lazy’ ones. that was the moment everyone in my life finally realized that something was wrong.

thus started a long, frustrating process and the wonders of the canadian healthcare system.

people love to compliment canada’s healthcare. they love to compare it to usamerica’s, they love to stand on their soapbox and say how great it is— i can always tell whether those people are disabled or not. because, yes. there are a lot of pros. but anybody who preaches that it’s wonderful and flawless will get my cane to their shins. because the reality is, the wait lists span years, and even when you live five minutes away from one of the best youth hospitals in the country, maybe even north america, sometimes they’ll put you through hell for three years straight, then give you the wrong diagnosis, throw an attempt at fixing you at the wall that doesn’t work, and then expect you to move on with your life.

i only have two vivid memories of that three-year process while i was still in elementary school: the beginning, and the end. my first major specialist appointment was with a neurologist. he stuck pins in my leg and arm and sent electric shocks through them to evaluate muscle responses. it was one of the worst pains i’ve ever felt. to this day, i can’t sustain a static shock without my leg buckling or my hand seizing up. my mom held my hand, and i was screaming; i still cry when i think about it. the test came back with nothing.

the end was when i finally saw a physiotherapist. at the time, it felt like a miracle; he spoke to me for what seemed like only ten, fifteen minutes, and gave me a diagnosis and a physiotherapy plan. that was in 2021. the physiotherapy turned out to be hell; i only lasted a few months, even doing the most basic of exercises, and my parents grew sour at the idea of driving me to the other end of the city on a regular basis. so that all shattered into nothingness.

but that’s all just an aside: the real point is, the first time i used a cane was on a school trip to a large city, at the end of elementary school. it was going to involve a lot of walking; something i knew by that point would be difficult. and so my mother gave me a gift. an old, simple, dark red, wooden cane. the same one she’d used in her teen years before her surgery, and kept just in case. i genuinely don’t know if it’s good or not; i don’t know if i could afford a better one. i’m still using it. i think buying a new one would make the reality too real—that i will not get a magic fix, like my mother did.

on that trip, my very first time using a cane, with my grade eight class, was the also the first time that anybody made fun of it. while walking through the city in small groups, another boy in my class called me a grandma from across the street. i ran after him and hit him (not hard) with it, and he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trip.

when i started grade nine, my high school was a twenty-to-thirty minute walk from my house. (another aside, shorter this time: after almost every other form of exercise was slowly nixed out of my life, walking became my everything. it still kills, but it’s better than anything else.) and it was too much. by the time i reached school every day, i was unable to stand for the national anthem. that was when the cane became a regular part of my life; i took it with me every day for support while i walked, and even when i didn’t need it, it made my disability somewhat more visible. the respectful people saw it and realized that there was something wrong with me. the assholes saw it and were assholes.

here’s another thing about me: i used to have a cousin. i have a lot of cousins, actually, but the one in question was almost my twin. we were born in the same week, and shared a birthday every year growing up, and looked nearly identical—when our hair was the same length, that is. he and i were complete opposites in most other respects; i was a quiet, well-behaved (read: neurodivergent) kid, and he was a loud, trouble-making (read: neurodivergent) kid. but we got along. and we went to the same high school, and it always stunned people to find out that we were cousins.

in grade nine one of my cousin’s friends made fun of my cane, in front of him and me. my cousin shoved his own friend against a locker and threatened him because of it. i wasn’t made fun of for my cane at that school for the rest of my time there (unless you count the things that people say when they don’t mean to be mean, but have also never witnessed someone my age with a cane before. i don’t, but they still hurt.)

my cousin’s gone now. he overdosed on xanax and killed himself in october. it’s my fondest memory of him, when he turned on his own friend to defend me. i didn’t see him for two years before he passed because of covid quarantines and precautions. i genuinely don’t remember the last time i did see him.

and here’s one last thing: people think that growing up disabled with a parent that had suffered similarly would make things easier. but it was the opposite. because my mother wasn’t chronically disabled. she had horrible knee problems that were fixed after years of physiotherapy and a major operation. she was also labeled as gifted and diagnosed with something i forget the name of, which means that it takes more effort for her to perform tasks than it does for other people. and all that has done is this:

a more recent story. i’m currently spending a month living in québec on a university campus. initially, i was slotted to be staying in an off-campus apartment; they moved me to a residence building before i arrived because they knew of my disability. my room is on the fourth floor. there is no elevator. i wonder every day if my would-have-been apartment would have had less stairs.

my mother drove me there. when we arrived, she carried my suitcase up the stairs for me, because i was incapable of doing so myself. and when i complained, mostly lightheartedly—“oh, doing these stairs is going to suck all month”—she turned on me and told me that when she had been just a little bit older than me, she’d done a program in québec and lived on the third floor with no elevator, and she’d just had major knee surgery. and she’d been fine.

it was nothing for her. i still remember her exact words, four weeks later. i don’t know if she’ll ever truly take me seriously, because to her, she was disabled too, and she got through it. i’ve yet to find a way to convince her that it’s different. that not everything has a magic cure if you just work through it.

i’m eighteen now. she was nineteen when she had knee surgery. maybe when i turn nineteen, i’ll finally get a new cane. it’ll be symbolic, of something. i don’t know what. hopefully i’ll figure it out.

[offthefieldsmau]

⚽ 2.129

Ed pulled Stede into a nearby supply closet, closing the door behind him. Stede flicked on the light, turning to face the coach. Who was looking at Stede with all amusement in his eyes gone, now replaced with something new. Something angry; tight, flexing arm muscles crossed in front of his chest.

“What is it,” Stede sighed, “are you going to yell at me now?”

“Stede, for fuck’s sake,” Ed throws his hands up in the air, “yes, I am going to yell at you now.”

Oh. Stede wasn’t expecting that.

“And you had to drag me here because…?” Stede found a spare netted bag of jerseys to sit on.

“Because if I do want to yell at you,” Ed stepped closer, “I’m going to do it in private and not in front of all of suburban Southern California. What the fuck is your deal, mate?” Stede realized, unfortunately for him, that there was no getting out of this.

Alma was already so mad at him, Mary already chastised him, and while Ed had a right to be upset, Stede was at his wit’s end of being criticized for things.

He deserved this, at the very least. Blowing up like he did made an ass of him and Ed, and the angry glances Ed kept tossing him during the game definitely hinted at annoyance. Ed had the opportunity to ruminate on this all yesterday and during the game — but at that point, Stede was tired. He was done with the animosity and he thought that they could move on from it. 

Stede was wrong. Whatever minor irritants Stede thought he caused Ed, he was deeply, deeply wrong.

Ed looked furious.

Ed looked hot.

“You cannot act that way during games,” Ed scrubbed a hand over his face, “you almost got us carded! I had to talk the ref down from the ledge to keep you from getting ejected. At a kids’ soccer game.”

Is that what the little colored cards were for? No one ever explained it to Stede, he thought they were simply there to add some flare, truth be told.

Ed wasn’t done, “You can be mad at me all you want, but going off on the ref every time someone gets near one of our players is absurd,” he fumed, “and that’s not even to mention the way you blew your fuckin’ lid over the third goal! I can’t believe you know so little about this sport and think you have a right to scream from the sidelines like that.”

“Excuse me?” Stede asked, indignant, “I know how the game works. Besides, you were screaming just as much.”

“That is called coaching.” Ed leaned back against a rack of balls and crossed his arms, “You know so much?” He gestured with an open palm for an answer: “Okay, what’s the difference between a keeper and a goalie?”

Stede scoffed, crossed and uncrossed his legs. He waved a hand, “They’re— they— formations, of course.”

“They’re the same position.” Ed said flatly, “So, maybe you let me do my job, since I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“You absolutely do not know what you’re doing!” Stede mirrored Ed’s body language; who was Ed to claim that?

“What!?” Ed stepped closer, “The fuck do you expect— the fuck do you want from me!? Do I need to remind you that we fucking won our game today!?”

Stede stood and got closer in Ed’s space, in his face, “I don’t care if you win the league,” he sneered, “as long as you threaten their safety like that—”

“None of the other parents care like you!” Ed argued, “So whats the fucking truth, Stede? What is your fucking problem with me!?”

The proximity was too much for Stede to not do something stupid.

“I think I made myself fairly clear yesterday,” he moved towards the door, “as I am not a fan of how you’re putting their safety in jeopardy with your coaching style. They’re going to get hurt.”

“Well, that’s soccer,” Ed almost pinned Stede to the door with his proximity, and then he dropped his voice low, “don’t know if anyone bothered to tell you this, but that’s how the game works, mate. Get used to it.”

Proximity was Stede’s enemy today, considering how they were even closer than before.

[chemengblr]

Steeple szn means studying in bed because my legs need extra love and attention

[evansbby]

➳❥ 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Lloyd Hansen x innocent!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dubcon, noncon, dark, minors dni, daddy kink, age gap - reader is early 20s, Lloyd is late 30s, coercion, dark Lloyd taking advantage of super innocent reader, like seriously reader is very innocent, corruption kink, babying, extreme dumbification, dd/lg undertones, mention of gun, use of gun in sexual context, choking, spitting, kidnapping, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, blood mention, killing mention, manipulation, gaslighting

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Lloyd promises to let you go, but he demands a depraved repayment. (In other words: Lloyd pops your cherry).

𝐀/𝐍: This is really fucking depraved. Please, please be warned. 

“My dad’s gonna come for me!” You burst out tearfully, tiny fists clenching at your sides and nails digging into your palms, “H-He loves me! And… And I’m not scared of you!”

Lloyd yawns, “Honey, this whole heroic act was cute two days ago. But now you’re just boring me.”

“N-Not acting!” You lie, jutting your chin up and hoping he can’t see how your hands shake and lower lip wobbles. Your dad had always taught you to be brave in the face of evil. And the man sat in front of you, with his neatly trimmed moustache and perfectly styled hair; his elegant white pants and tight black turtleneck that showed off every ridge of muscle on his body…

This man was definitely the face of evil.

“As I said, boring.” Lloyd practically sing-songs, crossing one leg over the other, his blue eyes gazing at you from where you sit on the bed with the pink satin sheets. “Why don’t you try a different schtick, sunshine? Maybe be a bit bratty? Gimme a reason to rough you up a bit before I send the videos to your father?”

Brows knotting together in confusion, a pout forms on your lips, “What videos?”

Lloyd can’t help his gleeful smile, “You’ll see.”

He gets up from the gilded armchair that he usually sits on when he comes to ‘visit’ you, making his way over to the four-poster princess bed where you sit cross-legged. The whole room that he’s put you in is soft, pink hues with gold accents – admittedly the prettiest room you’ve ever lived in. You’re thankful Lloyd didn’t throw you into a dark, scary basement when he kidnapped you – but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to leave.

Dad’s gonna come for me, you assure yourself.

But right now, it’s just Lloyd (and the guards stationed outside your room). Your captor casually walks towards you, twirling his gun in his hand in a way that makes you cringe in fear. He smirks when you exhale sharply, your eyes widening when the brunet takes a seat next to you on the pretty satin sheets.

“Why, honey. You’re hurting my feelings – I thought you said you weren’t scared of me.”

You swallow harshly, “N-Not scared!”

“Then why are you shuffling away from me like a kicked puppy?” Lloyd licks his lips, suddenly grabbing your calf and dragging you over to him. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger too – with those muscles that bulge out of the tight shirts he wears. You squeal in pure fear as places you neatly on his lap, arms encircling around you.

“Shhh, baby. Just shut that pretty mouth up for me, okay? I need to tell you something.”

Immediately, you clamp your mouth shut, sitting rigid against him while he strokes your hair. You’d never tell him this – but he’s the scariest man you’ve ever met. In the two days that you’ve known him – from when he stole into your bedroom in the dead of the night and took you up until now – you’ve seen many different sides of him. He can go from soft to insane in two seconds flat, and you’ve even seen him kill people.

“M-My dad said we shouldn’t play with guns.” You can’t help but point out when you see Lloyd continuously twirling his loaded gun with his fingers. And he’s doing it so dangerously close to you, as if he doesn’t care at all if he accidentally hits the trigger.

Lloyd snorts, “That’s because your dad’s too busy playing with his tiny dick, sunshine.”

You gasp at his crassness, and the older man can’t help but laugh at the expression on your face.

“God, you’re a little airhead, aren’t you? Makes me almost sad about what I’m gonna say next.”

Ears perking up at his words, you shuffle around on his lap until you’re facing him, blinking up at him shyly and waiting for him to speak.

“I’ve decided I’m going to let you go.”

Elation fills your trusting heart, and you bounce up and down in his lap in excitement, not noticing the way he suppresses a growl and steadies you with his large hands on your hips. “Really? Oh, Mr. Hansen, thank you!”

“Yes, sunshine. Thank me indeed. Turns out your father’s useless, and by extension, that makes you useless. And do you know what I do with useless people, baby?”

Eyes wide as saucers, you shake your head.

“I kill them.”

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the loaded gun in his hand, the one he so callously plays with all the time. Blood running cold, you gulp up at him, “B-B-But…”

“Shhh, baby.” He presses his finger against your lips. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m feeling nice today, honey. So instead of killing you, I’m going to let you go. Isn’t that nice of me?”

He’s giving you whiplash with his words, but you nod quickly, “Y-Yeah! My mom says to always see the good in people, so I think you’re being really nice, Mr. Hansen. Thank you! When do I get to leave?”

Lloyd almost moans out loud at your innocence, digging his boner up into your ass while you blink up at him, so deliciously unaware of his intentions.

“Now sunshine, don’t get too ahead of yourself.” Lloyd clicks his tongue, finger tracing shapes on your bare thigh – you’re still in your little pink nightie that you were wearing when he kidnapped you. “I’m doing you a huge favour here. In fact, I’ve done a lot of favours for you in the past two days, wouldn’t you say so?”

“Huh?”

“Aw, you’re a dumb little baby, aren’t you?” He chucks you under the chin, loving how goddamn innocent you look, how your perfect little lips form the shape of an ‘o’, how you look like you’re hanging on to his every word, “I kept you in this pretty room instead of the scary basement, I gave you food and a soft princess bed to sleep in, didn’t I?” He pinches the flesh of your thigh when you don’t reply, “Didn’t I?”

“Ow– Yes! Yes, you did!” You cry out.

“So then it’s only fair that you repay me before I let you go.” Lloyd is vary casual with his words, making it sound like this repayment is so painfully obvious. He’s playing with the strap of your nightie now, pushing the silky strap down your bare shoulder and making you shiver.

“I… I guess so.” You’re confused, but your dad has told you in the past that if someone does something nice for you, then it’s always a good idea to repay them for their kindness. And although you’ve seen Lloyd scream at the guards and his other men (as well as maybe shoot a few people), he’s never really been mean to you. You sit up straight, nodding your head as you feel a bit more confident. In fact, you’re sure your dad would be proud of you for how you’re negotiating like an adult right now, “Okay, Mr. Hansen. What kind of repayment would you like?”

The corner of Lloyd’s mouth curls up, his large hands rubbing up and down your arms in a way that has you feeling kind of light-headed and warm, “Call me daddy, sunshine.”

“What? But you’re not my dad!” You giggle softly, not understanding why you’ve suddenly got this throbbing feeling between your legs. And it only seems to increase when his hand slips down, now casually playing with the lacey hem of your nightie.

“But I took care of you, kept a roof over your head these past two days, and also kept you fed, didn’t I? That means I’m your daddy.” Lloyd says it slowly, as if he’s speaking to a toddler.

You mull over his words, “I guess that makes sense…”

The brunet runs a hand over his perfectly styled hair, trying not to get too excited over the fact that he really has lucked the fuck out, a sweet-looking broad with a head as empty as yours sitting pretty in his lap, believing every single word that comes out of his mouth. It’s almost too good to be true.

“It makes perfect sense, cupcake. You’re just a dumb baby, so maybe things aren’t so clear in your head. But a man who takes care of his girl is known as daddy. So, you better call me that from now on.” He trails the muzzle of his gun against your bare skin with an air of indifference that makes you whimper softly.

“O-Okay, daddy.”

Lloyd almost moans out loud when he hears you say it, his pants now uncomfortably tight and he wonders just how much of an airhead you are to not notice his hard fucking dick right underneath your ass.

“Now honey, I want you to listen carefully to what I say next. Because this is how you’re gonna repay me before I let you go.”

He takes your hand; your tiny, dainty little hand, and squarely presses it down on his hard crotch. And it’s almost music to his ears when you gasp, snatching your hand back in record time.

“I can’t touch you there! That’s your… thing!”

“Oh princess, you’re allowed to touch your daddy’s cock. It’s only natural.” There’s something about the lull in Lloyd’s tone, this soft, velveteen quality of his voice, that makes you want to listen to him. Plus, your curiosity gets the best of you, because you’ve never touched a man’s thing before… Slowly, you replace your hand on his crotch, gasping when he thrusts up into your palm.

“Daddy, why is it so hard?”

Lloyd’s played with dumb little girls like you before – so none of this is new to him. But it’s also safe to say that none of those other girls were quite as innocent and lovely as you, with your wide eyes and open mouth, gaping down at his dick as if it’s about to come alive and eat you.

“Honey, this is where your repayment comes in.” He grabs your hand once more, making you stroke his clothed dick slowly, “Daddy’s cock is sick, that’s why it’s so hard. And only you can help me fix it and make it soft again.”

“Only me?” You echo prettily, looking scared and honoured at the same time.

“Yes, sunshine. Despite the fact that you’re dumber than a brick, it has to be you.” With one hand holding yours and making you stroke him, he uses his other hand to brush your hair out of your face, being all deliberately tender till you’re looking up at him with shining eyes, “My dick’s so hard that it’s causing me pain. And you don’t want your daddy to be in pain, do you? Specially when I kept you so safe and comfortable during your stay with me?”

Again, you mull over his words. Lloyd could have thrown you in the basement or one of his torture chambers where he took the other bad guys (you’d heard the guards talking about it once). But no, he’d kept you in this pretty pink bedroom with the soft satin bed and fuzzy carpet. Lloyd was nice, so it wasn’t fair that he was in pain.

You nod slowly, “Okay, daddy. I’ll help you with your pain.” And then you pout, “But I don’t know how!”

He repositions you in his lap so that you’re straddling him, your knees on either side of him and the hem of your nightie running high, your pantie-covered crotch flush against his, making heat rise to your cheeks. You’ve never been in such an intimate position with a man before. But Lloyd is your daddy, and he’s a nice man and he’s going to let you go, so you will yourself not to be scared.

He cocks his gun, pointing the muzzle of it right between your breasts where the neckline of your nightie dips. You inhale sharply as he leisurely trails it down, leaving goosebumps in your wake as you feel the weapon slide down your body. All the way down to between your legs – the source of all the throbbing – and he presses his gun against your private place, making you jolt with a surprising thrill that courses through your veins.

“Do you know what this is called, sunshine?” He asks softly.

You gulp – of course you know! You’re a big girl, after all. “Y-Yeah, daddy. That’s my vagina. But I’m not allowed to have anyone touch me there. My dad said he’d kill whoever even tried.”

“Cupcake, your dad’s a fuckin’ tool.” Lloyd flexes his arm suddenly, pressing his gun against your core and you convulse from the contact. “Now, little girls like you can’t use the word vagina. That’s an adult word. Babies like you need to say princess parts, got it?”

Princess parts. That sounded pretty, and you’ve been living in this pink princess room with a princess bed and princess sheets, so it only makes sense; so you nod in agreement.

“Princess parts.” You say softly, liking how it rolls off your tongue, “I like that, daddy.”

“Of course, you do, sweet sunshine.” Lloyd smirks, gun still cocked between your legs while his other hand slips behind you, unzipping your nightie slowly. “Now, do your little princess parts ever get creamy, baby?”

Creamy? You widen your eyes in alarm – how could he possibly know?! Gulping, your hand freezes on top of his clothed dick and you bite your lip, ducking your head down in shame.

“I… I do get wet down there sometimes.” You confess, because Lloyd said he’s your daddy and surely, he won’t tell anyone. “But it’s not pee, I swear it’s not, daddy!”

Lloyd licks his lips like he’s the big bad wolf; and honestly, he might as well be with how he plans to take advantage of your innocence. Having unzipped your nightie all the way down, he lifts your straps and slips them down your arms. You’re too mortified over how he knows about your princess parts getting wet that you don’t even notice him doing it.

“Tell me how you got wet.” He orders you simply, a look of almost unrestrained lust on his face, “And you better tell me the truth, or else I’ll change my mind about letting you go.”

You squirm, “Well… Please don’t tell anyone, but once I was watching this movie on TV, and it had a…uh… a scene in it. A dirty scene.” Scrunching your eyes shut, you can’t help but replay the scene in your mind, the actor so handsome and ripped – although not even close to as handsome and ripped as Lloyd is. “And I know I should’ve turned it off, but I was curious.”

Lloyd’s thumb brushes against your bare nipple, dick so unimaginably hard underneath you at your innocent story, and also because he’s now got you topless on top of him and you haven’t even noticed. God, you’re so fucking dumb and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Th-Then I had this strong urge to go pee, but when I got up, there was a wet spot on the couch. And my p-panties were all wet too!” You lament, and you can’t help but bury your face in Lloyd’s strong and sturdy shoulder, embarrassed because a man as sophisticated as him shouldn’t have had to hear such a stupid, shameful story.

“Oh, honey,” Lloyd coos, humping up against you because he knows you’re too distraught to notice. “You’re such a dumb little baby, not even recognising your own princess cream.”

You hiccup, blinking up at him with huge doe eyes, “P-Princess cream?”

“Yes, sunshine. Princess cream. Babies like you get all wet and drippy down there with princess cream, and you’re meant to gift this cream to your daddies to make them feel better. Everyone knows that.”

You nod, finally understanding him, “Is that how your… thing… is gonna feel better? With my cream?”

Lloyd taps your cheek condescendingly, “Guess your head’s not completely empty after all.”

And that’s how you find yourself lying down on your princess bed, the satin sheets so soft underneath you as a man almost double your age hovers over you, taking your nightie off and leaving you clad in only your little pink panties.

“You know, sunshine, after you’re done helping daddy here, we can go into my room. I’ve got a huge TV, and we can watch all the dirty movies your little heart desires.” Lloyd is feeling nice after your little confession. Not so nice as to not take advantage of you, but nice enough.

“Okay, daddy, that sounds– Hey! Aren’t you gonna take me home after this?”

Lloyd chuckles, choosing to ignore you as he surveys your almost nude body, how it quivers so prettily. Rolling your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he then brings your hand over to his pants once more, “Unzip me, baby. Daddy’s dick’s hurting a lot.”

You take a deep breath, not knowing where this is going but knowing that you want to help your daddy because he’s going to let you go after this and you’re so super thankful for that. Fingers shakily taking hold of his zipper, you undo his fly with baited breath and a thumping heart.

Lloyd’s eyes are so dark, it looks like he’s about to eat you up. “Take it out, baby. Take daddy’s dick out.”

Biting your lip in concentration, you think about when you’re in pain. Like the time you tripped and fell down the stairs when you were younger. You’d twisted your ankle and it had hurt a lot. It’s sad to think that Lloyd is hurting like that now, and you’d help just about anyone to stop them from hurting.

Your eyes widen when you pull his cock out, because your fingers don’t even fully wrap around it. He’s thick like a soda can, and long too. And so, so hard. Angry and red looking, with veins running down the side. You wonder if all men are as big as he is, or if he’s special.

“So… So big, daddy.”

Lloyd can’t help but stroke your cheek, “Take your panties off, sweetie. Can you do that for me?”

He sounds so soft and nice, voice so beguiling that you don’t think twice in obeying. But maybe it’s because you’re so distracted by the darkness in his eyes, by his handsome face so close to you, by his dick that scares you every time you sneak a glance at it… But you’re slow in tugging your panties down, and Lloyd taps you harshly on the cheek.

“Faster, you dumb fucking baby. Unless you want me to hurt you.” He gestures towards his gun which rests on the satin bedsheet next to you. You don’t understand why he’s kept it so close – it’s so scary and you hate it, but the threat works. Tugging your panties off, you go to hand them to him but he shakes his head.

“No, baby. Wrap your pretty panties around your hand and then hold my dick.”

His instructions are clear, but you still look up at him dumbly, “H-Huh?”

Lloyd rolls his eyes, patience running thin. All he really wants to do is shove his dick up your virgin pussy but he knows half the fun is building up to it. “It’ll help with the pain, sweetie. You wouldn’t understand because you’re too dumb. But don’t fucking question your daddy again.”

The satin of your panties and your soft, hesitant fingers feel like heaven around Lloyd’s dick. His own calloused hand grabs onto yours, moving your palm up and down on his big dick until you get the hang of it and don’t need his help anymore. And fuck, he doesn’t know where to look now because your tiny hand on his fat dick makes him want to bust a nut, but the look of determination on your face gets him going too.

“Is your pain getting better, daddy?”

He grunts, “Slightly, baby. But the real pain relief is inside your princess parts.” Licking his lips, he gives his next order: “Spread your legs, dumb baby. Wider. Wider, I said.”

You yelp when he slaps your inner thigh hard, pussy glistening and on display for him as you spread your legs as wide as they’ll go. And now it’s like Lloyd can’t restrain himself – how can he when there’s a five-course fucking meal about two inches away from him? All quivering and wet and untouched?

Quickly, he shoves your hand and panties off his dick, replacing it with his own as he brings his dick up to your wet folds. And you suck in a breath when his tip glides against your slit, up and down, making shivers run up and down your lower body, and you jolt upwards to create more friction.

“Ah– daddy, that feels funny!”

Lloyd’s no longer in the mood to humour you, it’s like he’s reached his quota of niceness for the day and now he just wants to get his fucking dick wet with virgin pussy. The thought makes him salivate – he hasn’t had a virgin since his days at Harvard, and never one as sweet and naïve as you.

“Shut up,” He breathes, leaning down till his chest is flush against your breasts, one hand easily trapping both your wrists above your head. He aims the tip of his dick against your clit, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves and loving how you gasp. God, virgins were just too easily excitable.

“Oh, daddy! D-Do that again, maybe?”

That makes Lloyd bark out a laugh. “Naughty baby, you’re meant to be helping daddy out, not giving me demands.”

You hang your head in shame, “S-Sorry, daddy. I just can’t h-help it sometimes! My princess parts feel so tingly. J-Just wanna touch more– ah!” Something feral takes over you, and you reach down to grab his dick, positioning it in front of your leaking hole as if you really can’t help yourself.

Lloyd almost busts a nut right then and there, but he has enough willpower to smack your hand away, laughing when you pout and begin to cry.

“Don’t know what’s happening to me, daddy! Wanna feel you more! Feels like I’ll die if I don’t!”

He loves how prettily you cry, how you want to say you’re turned on but you can’t find the words to explain how you’re feeling. The tears welling in your eyes make him even harder and your soft cries are music to his ears.

“You ready to end daddy’s pain now, sunshine?” He asks you, leaning over you and a strand of his perfectly styled hair breaks free, brushing against your forehead. And oh my gosh, if he isn’t the most handsome man you’ve seen in the whole world! Like the heroes in the movies, or in those romance novels your mother is always reading.

“I’m ready, daddy!” You confirm, unknowingly bucking your hips upwards to meet his hard dick. But when he pushes his dick inside your hole, you gasp and push at his chest almost immediately. “D-Daddy, this is… this is sex. We’re gonna have sex?”

Lloyd really can’t believe how dumb you truly are, he gazes at you incredulously, and you bite your lip again.

“You said you would help me, sunshine. You can’t go back on your word now.”

“I’m not! I’m not!” You swear, “It’s just… I’m not supposed to have sex until I’m married. But I really want to, daddy. I wanna help you and I wanna have sex with you – I just don’t want my parents to be mad!”

Lloyd’s bored now. In fact, he’d grown bored a good five minutes ago. Maybe he could tell the guards outside to get him some ductape so he can shut your fucking mouth once and for all while he has his way with you. Or he could drug you. But then he wouldn’t be able to hear your pretty gasps and cries when he finally pops your cherry.

Decisions, decisions.

“Look, honey. I’m gonna fuck you now – whether you like it or not.” Lloyd gets straight to the point, “So unless it’s to moan and beg for my dick, I’d suggest you shut your fucking mouth.”

You pout – why is he being so mean? Isn’t Lloyd meant to be nice and caring like how he said all daddies are? You decide it’s probably because he’s in pain. Oh! His pain! You’d completely forgotten that you were doing this to help ease his pain, and you mentally kick yourself for being so selfish.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” You say pitifully, but Lloyd’s too busy fondling your breasts, leaning down to lick around your nipple before taking the hard nub into his mouth and giving it a noisy suck. And the simple action has you squealing in pleasure and excitement before he stops and gives you a wolfish grin.

“Okay, sunshine. I’m in a good mood so we’ll take this nice and slow, okay?” You nod happily and he continues, “I want you to count up till five. Can you do that, honey? Can your little baby brain count up till five?”

“Y-Yes.” You squeak, “One, two, thr– OW, OH MY, AH, AH, AH! DADDY!”

Lloyd doesn’t give a shit if he’s being cruel, but he’s not about to ease his dick into you when your drippy, tight cunt is right there in front of him. Which is why, in one hard and unforgiving thrust, his pistons his fat dick into your virgin pussy, ignoring the tightness that tries to squeeze him back out.

“God fucking damn,” He grunts, because your tight walls are squeezing him like a vice, “Goddamn this fucking baby cunt, fuck!”

And you’re crying and crying, chest heaving and limbs flailing at the intrusion. He’s so big, so, so, so big. How has he managed to fit inside of you? It’s the worst pain imaginable – and it’s indescribable how full you feel. So full of Lloyd’s girthy, fat dick – the only dick you’ve seen, the only dick that’s ever been inside of you.

“Hurts!” You cry, “Hurts so bad!”

Lloyd couldn’t give less of a shit if it hurts for you – because it feels fucking amazing for him. But seeing your eyes scrunched shut and tears dripping down your cheeks, he can’t help but lick up your face, gathering the salty tears on his tongue and groaning with pleasure as he bottoms out inside of you.

“Open those eyes, sunshine.” He says softly against your lips, “Open those eyes and cry harder for me. Like a fuckin’ baby. Daddy loves that shit.”

“Y-You said… You said…” You choke back tears, tiny hands gripping at his bulging biceps, and Lloyd can’t help but laugh at your broken voice, “You said to count till f-five!”

“I did? Oh, sunshine, I guess I lied.” Lloyd’s barely even paying attention to you, his gaze shifting down to where you two meet. He pulls his dick out of you slowly, savouring your tightness and moaning internally when he sees his dick coated in your cream and your virgin blood. Fuck, if that ain’t the prettiest thing he’s ever seen…

“Not nice!” You sob harder, bracing yourself when he pushes back into you. And it hurts all over again, you just can’t wrap your head around how big he is, “Ah, why are you be-being so mean?”

Lloyd doesn’t bother answering your dumb question, instead grinding his hips down before pulling out and slamming back in. Grabbing your thigh, he pins it above his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck you. And he thanks his lucky stars that he didn’t use a condom, because fucking your baby cunt bare is nothing short of heavenly.

And he’s not completely opposed to the idea of knocking you up either.

“My dumb little baby,” Lloyd coos, cupping your face in his hands, “How does it feel to finally get fucked? I bet your old dad would be so proud of you, huh? Fucking his worst enemy because you think I’m gonna let you go after this.”

You shake your head, focusing on Lloyd’s navy eyes that are both so beautiful and so cruel. His pale skin smattered with scars from old battles, his strong, bumped nose and full pink lips. His moustache that tickles your face when he leans down over you.

“Daddy,” you cry out softly, dull thrill rippling throughout your body as he continues to thrust into you, the tip of his dick hitting a certain part inside you that has you gasping with pleasure. “Oh, daddy, still hurts but… f-feels all tingly again!”

“I’ll bet it fucking does,” He growls, picking up his pace and going into full jackhammer mode, wanting to see your cunt all messy and ruined, suddenly wanting to wreck you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that there was going to be anyone else getting between your legs. “Baby, say this is daddy’s pussy.”

“Th-This is daddy’s pussy!” You cry, all thoughts quickly leaving your mind except for Lloyd – his arms, his body, his dick, him. “Nngh, ugh! Daddy!”

There’s this pressure building up inside your lower belly, and every time his dick hits that spot inside you, the pressure mounts up further. You gasp when Lloyd forces your mouth open, spitting on your panting tongue and smirking when you look up at him in fear mixed with lust, his saliva sitting pretty inside your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You do as he orders you, completely submissive and slowly going dumb for him. God, it’s the prettiest sight in the world, you being so docile even when he’s fucking you so roughly despite it being your first time.

“Tell me you love my spit. Ask daddy to spit in your mouth again.” Lloyd grunts out over the lewd sound of his balls slapping against you with each hard thrust.

“L-Love your spit, please spit in my mouth again, daddy!” You beg him, and God, you sound so needy. Lloyd reaches out to pat your cheek, loving when your head lolls to the side. You’re gone. Fucked completely dumb and he’s barely even started.

Using his thumb and forefinger to pry your drooling mouth open, he once again spits, and then again. The first lands straight in your mouth again and you swallow like an obedient baby. The next glob of saliva lands on your cheek, and God, you look so messy. So messy and slutty yet innocent at the same time. Fuck. Lloyd wants to devour you.

Hand slipping down, he swats your ass once, twice, three times. The harsh smacking jolts you back into reality, and now you’re screaming in earnest. Your little princess bed is rickety underneath you, the headboard banging noisily against the wall as Lloyd fucks the living daylights out of you. Your pleasure is building up with each slam of his dick, his tip hitting your cervix and making you cry out his name needily.

“Yes, baby, give daddy your cream,” Lloyd finds himself coaxing you, his fingers wrapping around your pretty little throat and loving how you squeeze around his dick when he does that, “Mm, you’re a fuckin’ depraved little baby, aren’t you? You like it when daddy chokes you, huh?”

You let out incoherent gurgles and pleas, humping upwards to meet his thrusts as your eyes slowly begin to roll to the back of your head. “L-Like it, daddy! Don’t know – ah – don’t know why, but I like it – OOH, DADDY! FEELS TINGLY, FEELS SO – AH!”

Lloyd loves the look of pure bliss and confusion on your face when you clench around him and give him your first ever orgasm. He really loves the power trip that comes with the fact that he’s given you your first ever feeling of such intense pleasure, and you’ve squirted around his dick. He pins your hips down as your limbs flail uncontrollably, fresh tears in your eyes and moaning like a broken record player: “oh, daddy, daddy, daddy!”

“God, so fuckin’ tight, sweet baby,” Lloyd hisses, feeling his balls tighten, “Squeezing daddy so good, aren’t you? God, I love your fuckin’ baby cunt and how it swallows daddy’s fat dick. Little fuckin’ virgin cunt all messy and ruined, fuck! Make a mess on my dick, you little cry baby. Fuck!”

One hand gripping his bicep and the other fisting the pink satin sheets underneath you, you come undone in what is the most earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever had. It’s also the only orgasm you’ve ever had, and you scream so loud, his name on the tip of your tongue, “Oh, daddy! Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!”

“Not God, you dumb baby, just me.” Lloyd slaps your breast before squeezing it hard. With an almighty grunt, he releases inside of you. Filling you with his hot, searing cum, ropes and ropes of it, so thick and making you feel so full. You feel it inside your very depths, claiming you, making his mark on your body.

With a shudder, he collapses on top of your weak body, and you’re so frail and spent, breathing hard and eyes glassy like you’re about to pass out. You can’t even form a single thought, all you can feel is your body shaking from the remnants of your powerful orgasm, and Lloyd’s cum which doesn’t even fit inside you, dripping out lewdly from your used fuckholes and onto your princess sheets.

“My baby, all mine,” Lloyd croons, kissing up your neck and pecking your lips, “Can’t believe how easy it was to pop your cherry.”

You blink, completely dazed and unable to form any words, just gaping up at him and trying your hardest not to black out. His sweet kisses trail up your cheek, gathering your tears along the way.

“And you know the best part, sunshine?” Your captor sings, cupping your cheek with his calloused hand, “I’m never letting you go. And guess what? Your douche of a dad is downstairs. In fact, you can say hi to him because the camera’s right there.” Lloyd twists his body slightly and points up at the red light above the dresser.

You feel your blood run cold, but you’re still too fucked out to form a sentence, “Wh-What–”

“He’s been watching us, baby.” Lloyd says proudly, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger and making you forcibly look at the camera, “Bet you didn’t think your first time would be livestreamed, did you, sunshine? Bet your dad sang like a canary once he saw his worst enemy fucking his daughter while he sits downstairs, handcuffed to a chair and completely helpless.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, but your legs are still shaking from your orgasm, and you don’t have the energy to push him off you, “H-How could you?” You cringe away from the damning red light of the camera.

“Because I can.” Lloyd answers simply, “But don’t worry, baby. It wasn’t all business. Your tight little baby cunt is something I could get used to. I think I’m gonna keep you, once I’ve questioned your dad and gotten rid of him, of course.”

He covers your face in kisses, his moustache scratching your sensitive, tear-stained cheeks as you lie underneath him, stoic and shocked.

“What do you say, sunshine? Ready to be your new daddy’s little girl?”

THE END! What do you guys think? I wrote this all today because I was rewatching some The Gray Man scenes and got super inspired! Please, please, please, feedback is so important so do tell me what you think! Please share with anyone you think might enjoy this, and any Lloyd enthusiasts! Reblogs means the world to writers, so please reblog and share! THANK YOU! ILY!

[incandescent-creativity]

Can I interest you in a shapeshifter OC on a pirate ship? I turned her into a guard dog to defend her captain girlfriend :)

Context: Aspen’s POV, she just told her crew about the secret she’s been keeping for over a year. Her first mate is attacking her! 🩷

“I knew you had found something!” Venus yells, shaking me as her nails dig into my neck.

My fingers can’t get in between her hands and I’m too busy catching up to throw her off. The pain doesn’t help sharpen any focus I could have, and her words

“I knew it when we sailed north twice in a row, and I knew it when we never sailed north again, and you never told me!”

Her thumbs are pressing into the front of my throat with enough pressure that I couldn’t respond even if I had something to say. It’s difficult enough just to try and take gasping breaths. I’m losing the ability to breathe at all when the weight of my best friend’s assault suddenly disappears. I roll over to take in great heaving gulps of air as soon as the weight disappears. Venus yells as she is knocked off of me, and a guttural growl answers her.

It’s not the type of noise any human could make. The sound seems to burrow straight through me and wrap itself around my heart, speeding it up even beyond the adrenaline of Venus’s attack. Years of muscle memory try to make me move and protect whoever is facing that sound, but I’m still trying to catch my breath. The most I succeed at is pushing up onto an elbow to see what happened.

River stands a few feet from me, back leg planted and front leg extended far forward to cross over Venus, who is laying on the deck where she fell. My girlfriend has added a few feet to her height, and lengthened her hands into claws. I don’t know what else she’s changed, but it’s scary enough that everybody around us has backed away to create this ring of space. I only see the claws because River has raised up a hand in preparation to swipe down and strike Venus.

When I yell out “No,” it doesn’t sound like a captain giving an order. The scream comes out, scratched and panicked, like someone witnessing their best friend in mortal danger.

I’m just lucky enough that the danger will listen to me. River drops her arm and turns back towards me. She’s grown so many extra teeth that her face has had to shift to accommodate a snout, but she still recognizably herself.

“River, come here,“ I plead. Every word is a painful whisper, but I’ve got to get her away from Venus.

That same fear clutches at my heart when River turns away from me and back to Venus, leaning down over her. But she just opens her mouth as wide as it will go, showing off sharply pointed canines as she screams an inhuman roar in Vee’s face.

Venus doesn’t flinch. Even when a silver strand of slobber lands across her face, she just lies there. Just as I’ve always known her to, she faces the reprimand with stubborn courage.

Once she empties her lungs, River stands up a little bit more and starts moving back over towards me. She must have done something to her muscle mass, too, because she is hunched over with broader shoulders than I remember. I don’t think this form hurts her too much; when she crouches down near me, she seems more concerned about me than with any of her own pain.

Being careful of her new claws, River helps me sit up. She stays by my side while I cough and recover from the attack. And she’s my only clue that Venus has also recovered—she snaps her head around from checking on me and lets out another low, threatening growl.

Xena’s Share Day

this one’s for me :) do me a favor, open up your document, search for the word “teeth” and post whatever you find here !! anything to do with teeth. indulge a bitey creature like me :)

[cherryblossom-chopper]

》Patching Each Other Up《

Content: Luffy Fluff. Ambiguous Reader.

————— ୨୧ —————

“That hurts,” Luffy whines, tugging his arm away from you, “Why can’t you be nicer to me?”

You frown, looking down at the cuts and scrapes on his arms and legs. Why was he being so damn difficult all of a sudden? He took such a rough beating like a champ but now that you brought out the disinfect, Luffy was acting like a little kid.

“I would be nicer if you’d quit squirming,” You grunt, snatching his arm back by the wrist, “Chopper isn’t here to clean up your wounds right now, so I have to. Gods know Sanji can’t do it.”

Luffy pouts at you, which was rather cute-to bad that expression only happened when you were annoyed with him. “This is boring, babe,” Luffy complains, trying to wriggle away from you.

“Oh no,” you say, holding him, “You have to help me next. I got scraped up from your little ‘adventure’ too.” Sure, you have a few cuts and a little gash on your arm; it was nothing serious, but Chopper would have a fit if it wasn’t at least disinfected.

Luffy was surprisingly still after that. He hadn’t even considered that you were hurt. It’s true, you didn’t really give him time to ask before you were all over him, but he still felt guilty that it hadn’t crossed his mind.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Luffy says softly. He wants you to come along to all his grand adventures but hates the thought of being unable to protect you, even if it’s just a few scrapes.

You smile at him, and your fingers cup his sunkissed cheek. “Don’t be sorry,” you reassure him, “It’s part of my job description.”

The gentle sway of the ship and the late afternoon sunset couldn’t make the moment more perfect, so you kiss him. You kiss him softly at first, but Luffy is a greedy pirate captain. He deepens your kiss until his tongue finds its way into your mouth.

You indulge him, but only for a moment, he’s needy and will never have enough of you, so if you don’t stop him, Luffy will get inappropriate fast. He protests rather loudly when you push him away, though that can’t be helped, you suppose. Your captain was always loud.

“Kiss them,” he demands. Luffy doesn’t have to wait long for you to kiss him. He never waits very long for anything he requests of you.

You always bend to your cute captain, and he never pushes boundaries, not too much anyway. So you kiss his bandages and bruises and pepper his face with little kisses until you leave a final peck on the lips. When you do, it’s nearly all teeth.

Luffy grins so widely that you’re confident his face will split in two. He takes the bandage and antiseptic from you and treats your wounds like he does everything, with enthusiasm.

Oh, your beloved Luffy. He’s great at many things, but patching you up is not one of them. He makes up for what he lacks in skill and delicate touch in bedside manner.

He may handle you roughly and wrap your bandages too tightly, but that doesn’t stop him from soothing you with every wince of pain. He’s kissing your exposed skin and rubbing your back, uttering little apologies along the way. Maybe he would feel less guilty if Chopper patched you up; then he’d know everything would be fine. He could hold your hand and hear the doctor scold you for squirming too much.

For now, however, Luffy sits beside you on the deck of the Sunny. He’ll watch the sunset with you until the rest of the crew returns. Despite the scraps and bruises, Luffy feels at peace. When he touches you, rest your head on his shoulder, and his muscles slack. All his energy was put aside for one delicate moment with you.

————— ୨୧ —————

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🏷: @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @slurp-imagines @bolinhodadestruicao @kristaline2dmensimp

[sukirichi]

Breakfast for Choso with ingredients #17 and 34 with #2 sugar? Wine is optional.

EASY 

— Nothing is ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d push through hell and back.

meal order: breakfast + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + biting, scratching, choso eating reader out, sex on the beach

warnings: mature content, unedited fic, choso is mean and harsh when he’s angry

notes: thank you so much for this anon! I really enjoyed writing this and this totally made my day. I hope you like it!

word count: 10k+ LOL CHOSO BRAIN ROT

check out the fanart @tigressnej-chan made, it s so beautiful HURRR

Your day was absolutely ruined. Dark, deep bags covered your under eyes as you stormed through the convenience store downstairs your apartment, body clad in an oversized hoodie and socks visible through slippers, hair greasy and lips chapped. You’re aware you look like a mess, but did you care?

Absolutely not, especially when you haven’t been sleeping well the moment you moved into this cursed apartment because of a certain fucker.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That specific fucker – the cause of your ruin and the devil who prevented you from living a good life – waltzed inside the store, the small bell chiming to signal his presence. You scoffed at his confident, suave walk, further irritated because he just had to be insanely attractive – in an alternative, laid-back kind of way.

He wasn’t even your type; you preferred more refined men who wore pressed suits and leather shoes, but you had to admit this man was insanely attractive.

With deep, sunken eyes, a dark tattoo across the bridge of his nose and dark hair twisted into twin ponytails, large, muscular body covered in a black sweatshirt and a red scarf – he looked very much like a former member of a gang who retired because their barbaric ways wasn’t his thing. It was an odd theory, and you sat there at the corner of the store, glaring at the man who tiredly pressed the coffee maker machine for a dark roast.

As if feeling eyes on him, his lazy eyes slid over to yours, and almost automatically, one corner of his lips tilted up in humor. This fucker knew how much he annoyed you, and he only further pushed your buttons by walking over to you, the steam of his coffee nearly blocking your gaze.

“Good morning,” he greeted sarcastically, well aware that it definitely not a good morning for you.

“Have fun last night, neighbor?”

“Yes.”

“Jeez, you won’t even bother denying it?”

“I see no point in it,” he invited himself by sitting next to you, long legs crossed over his muscular thigh. You found yourself staring at how he seemed so firm even in loose sweatpants, averting your gaze and staring at your soggy ramen noodle cup instead.  “And you’re not trying to hide the fact you’re listening, either.”

“I wasn’t listening!” you slammed your fist down the table – he didn’t even flinch, only continuing to sip his coffee as if you weren’t burning in anger beside him – as you hissed, “The walls are too damn thin and you’re so fucking loud.”

“No, I wasn’t. She was loud, though.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. He really was shameless. You already knew this man didn’t have enough shame in his body, but you didn’t think he’d have absolutely nothing.

Upon witnessing your stupefied state, he reached over to knock at your skull. “Still there, princess?” you cringed at his nickname for you; you didn’t even know this guy’s name, for pete’s sake! “Or are you still too bothered by the fact I got some good fucking last night?”

You flicked his arm away from you, nearly seething in your seat. “God, you’re insufferable. I should move out.”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best too,” he nodded to himself as he stared at his now empty coffee cup. Had it been that long already? Apparently, it was, because your noodles turned cold and your neighbor was already leaving your seat, dipping for a mocking bow. “Have a nice day, neighbor. Don’t think of my cock too much,” he teased, even going as far as winking until your jaw dropped.

You watched as he threw the paper cup in the proper bin, a little surprised he was decent enough to do mundane tasks like that. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget your neighbor was also a decent human being, but whatever.

You absolutely, utterly hated him, and you kept mumbling to yourself of the different ways you’d get your revenge on him as he walked out the door, his annoyingly gorgeous ass in view. “Yeah, right,” you scowled to yourself, “As if I can get that image out my mind now.”

He would not be an easy feat.

Despite your constant pleas for him to at least be silent during the weekdays to give you enough peace of mind to study for the finals, he didn’t stop. Hours just after the sun sets, you’d hear giggles and sloppy kisses on the hallway.

No matter how much you pressed your hands into your ears and set your music on full volume to block out the noise, you could always hear them.

Your neighbor was undeniably a fuckboy. 

Every night, he’d have a different girl dangling in his arms. You knew, because the voices squealing his name while he fucked them right next door were always different. Some days, it was deep and throaty, and on other days it’d be high-pitched and nearly scraping at your ears. They all said the same thing though, such as fuck, right there, you feel so good or harder, harder, please, I’m so close!

To say you were traumatized was an understatement. You never wanted to hear such things again, but alas, your neighbor apparently couldn’t give a single shit because he was fucking someone again.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the person he brought home this time around just had to have the most fucking annoying voice ever. Or maybe it sounded like the others, but you were in the middle of memorizing veins and brain chemicals in alphabetical harder when you heard the headboard of his bed slam against your wall, the sound hard and loud enough you dropped your book in surprise.

They didn’t stop. If anything, he kept going harder until nothing but his low sexy groans and his partner’s screaming – that was right, she was fucking screaming – like she was having her insides rearranged.

You didn’t doubt the possibility that maybe she really was. Your neighbor was such a huge, attractive guy, after all, it would make sense he was capable of such. Before you knew it, you could no longer understand the words in your textbook. You kept rereading the same line over and over again, but nothing registered into your mind. You were so close to screaming at them to stop and shut the fuck up because it was three in the morning and they were still going at it, but you weren’t that mean.

Yes, you hated him, but you weren’t going to blue ball someone or make sex awkward. Sex with your ex was always awkward, so you knew how painful it was to live with that memory. No matter how much you hated your neighbor, you wouldn’t go that far.

So you trudged all the way up to the building’s public balcony, bringing a blanket with you to survive the chilly bite of the night.

You used your phone’s flashlight to read all over the textbooks, keeping your little note cards organized and color coded beside you. Finally, you could make sense of things a little bit more, and you chugged at your Red Bull to keep you awake. Time passed by so fast whenever you were lost with your nose stuck in a book, and your attention was only ripped away when the balcony door swung open, revealing your neighbor with messed up hair and bruised lips.

He looked totally fucked out.

“Oh, fuck, no – what are you doing here?”

“This balcony is for all tenants,” your neighbor barely blinked as he walked closer to you, but instead of joining you on the table, he leaned against the railings and stared into the night sky. He seemed so placid, a little approachable despite his intimidating face even, and for a moment, you were studying his sharp, masculine features before he turned your way with a passive face. “Last time I checked, I’m a tenant, therefore I have the rights to be here.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted childishly, pulling your books closer to you as if he wanted to steal it. He only raised a brow at your actions, the large muscles of his arms bulging up from where he stood.

It felt so hard to not salivate at the sight, but for the sake of your pride, you had to push those thoughts down and remind yourself why you hated him so much. “I evoke your rights. You’re not welcome here.”

“You’re awfully harsh to a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re my neighbor who brings girls in his home every night and I can never get a wink of sleep because all I can hear is them moaning and the sound of balls slapping!”

“Vulgar,” he smirked, and he had no business looking so attractive with that arrogant smirk on his face that it took all energy you had in you to not whack him with your book.

“I think I deserve an apology.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

You stood up with a scowl, nearly shoving the book right in his chest. “Bro, I’m this close to slapping this book right in your pretty face. You see how thick this is? I’m not kidding, this will hurt. Listen, I’ve got a final exam and a suture practice this weekend. All I’m asking for is just a few hours of sleep – that’s all. I just don’t get why you always seem to be balls deep in someone at every god forsaken hour; I can’t focus on my work when the noises are so distracting. At this point, I remember their begging more than I’m familiar with nerves. I need to study, okay? I really want to graduate.”

He fell silent at your sudden rant, then, he tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his lips. “You think I have a pretty face?”

“After everything I said, that’s all you remember?”

“It’s kind of hard to listen to every word when I’m distracted by your eyes.”

His comment caught you off-guard, and your eyes widened, arm coming up to hide your face that soon began to felt warm. He only chuckled at your reaction, the sound deep and throaty that it went right straight into the pools of your belly. “My eyes – what are you talking about? Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re so creepy!”

“Hmm,” he snickered, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“What, no one tells you you’re creepy?”

“No, people always say I’m handsome,” he said it with such a straight face that you gave him an are you serious look, and he raised one shoulder to shrug. “I’m surprised you’re not attracted to me, to be honest.”

“Wow,” you drawled out, shaking your head with a laugh as you plopped down back to your seat in defeat. “Aren’t you full of surprises? First, I get a really horny man as my next door neighbor who keeps me up at night with his shenanigans, and now he’s got the audacity to ask me why I’m not attracted to him?”

“I mean,” he scrunched his nose cutely, a huge contrast to his domineering stature. “Why aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I give up. I’m just gonna crash at my friends tonight,” you mumbled to yourself while gathering your things, leaving your neighbor all by himself. As you reached the door, you called out to him one more time, “Oh, and by the way, you reek of pussy. Go shower or something.”

“So how’s your exams going?”

“They’re fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, slicing through the fish a lot harsher than you intended. The knife scraped against the plate and you winced at the sound, ignoring your father’s loud munching. “Not too much of a big deal. My professors are nice and my classmates are nice too. I’m fitting in really well and I think I’ll even come out on top of my class this time if it weren’t for that stupid little bastard…” your last words ended up as a whisper, eyes glazing to the side as you glared at nothing in particular.

“Stupid little what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you waved your hand in the air, “Someone’s just distracting me from my studies, is all.”

At the mention of someone distracting your usually composed and unbothered self, your father straightened up in his seat, a large smile on his face that made him look younger than he really was. “Is it a guy? Do you finally have a boyfriend?”

“Ugh, dad, really, you’re the only father who’s so eager for his daughter to have a boyfriend. Shouldn’t you be more proud that, I don’t know, I’m pretty and smart? I don’t need a boyfriend or anything.”

Your father nodded, “True, you don’t need them, but trust me when I say life is going to get pretty lonely when you grow old and you’re all by yourself. It’s still better – and life is a lot happier – when you’ve got a stable supporting and loving figure in your life.”

“I have you for that.”

“And you always will,” he patted your hand gently across the table, “But a parent won’t always be there for their child, and if you’re still not prepared for the future or ready to stand on your own two feet, then that means I didn’t do a great job at raising you; that means I’ve failed as a parent. Tell me, have I failed? Have I raised my wonderful daughter to be so repulsed by the idea of love that she’s willingly closing her doors and locking herself away in isolation?”

“No…”

“I didn’t think so,” he grinned to himself, and you watched with a frown as his eyes crinkled in happiness. Your father was such the complete opposite of you; he was always so loving and open to everyone, while you were mopey and afraid of attachment.

“Don’t be too afraid to love, child. It’s one of the most wonderful things in this world – it’s a blessing – the absolute core of our being. Why do we exist if not to love?”

“Not everyone is a romantic like you, dad,” you sighed, “Plus…how is it so easy for you to finally find someone after Mom died? Isn’t she your soul mate?” you questioned, putting your fork and knife down as you looked your father in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married again.”

“It’s already been years since she passed away, Y/N. And yes, she is my soul mate, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of loving someone again. Our hearts aren’t limited like that, and your mother wouldn’t want me to keep mourning her when she’s resting in peace,” he gestured to the both of you after swallowing his food, “She would’ve wanted the both of us to be happy.”

At the mention of your passed mother, your shoulders deflated, and your eyes watered at the thought of her kind smile. You wished you could see that again.

“I miss her…”

“I know, child, I know,” your father smiled encouragingly, “I also know the reason you’re so afraid to love is because you’re scared they’ll end up leaving you too, like how your mom just slipped past our fingers like that, but it’s only her body that withered. She’s still with us, right in our hearts and in our memories.”

“You really do sound like a lovesick fool.”

“That’s because I am,” your father laughed with a slap to his knees. When his phone buzzed for his alarm, he quickly dabbed a towel on his lips, standing up to excuse himself. “Now, this lunch was lovely and I dearly missed you, but I need to go back to work. We doctors just never get a break. This is a life you have to prepare for if you want to follow my footsteps.”

“I won’t follow your footsteps – I’ll surpass you.”

“I’ll be waiting for that to happen then,” he announced proudly; pride bursting in his chest at how determined his daughter was. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You squinted at the mischievous look in his eyes, wary of what your cunning father had in mind this time.

“You won’t outsmart me. You better bring a boyfriend or at least introduce someone to me on the wedding – or else I’m pulling you out of the university hospital.”

“Wha – Dad, that’s not fair!”

“All is fair in love and war, child, you’ll learn soon.”

“Oh, I just hate men!”

You really did hate men.

Your final exam was tomorrow already and you’d lost count of the coffee and Red Bull you’ve inhaled today, all so you could study one last time for the test, but no, something – or rather someone – just had to get in your way.

“I’ve had enough,” you announced before slamming your door open; not hesitating as your fists came banging down on your neighbor’s door. “Hey! Keep it the fuck down – someone’s trying to study here! Seriously, man, is it really that hard for you to keep it in your pants for one night? This is what, the sixth woman you’ve had around the past four days? Don’t you get tired? Because I sure as hell am very tired of you!”

The moans and the sounds of bed creaking stopped. For a moment, you almost smirked to yourself when they fell silent.

If only you knew it would be that easy to shut them up, you would’ve done so long ago. You were about to turn back into your room when his door swung open, and you were met by his sweaty and muscular chest heaving up and down – either in anger or from his previous activities – you couldn’t tell.

Your throat felt dry as you peered at him under your lashes, almost afraid of the way he loomed over you. Thank goodness he found the time to wear pants, though, because had he been baby naked, you would’ve run for the hills already.

His dark eyes cut through yours as he seethed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m the one who wants to ask you that,” you were surprised to find your voice despite the way your pussy actually ached just by the sight of his chiseled body, but when you did, you forced yourself to stand up taller, refusing to back down from his gaze. “It’s literally three in the morning and you’re about to fuck a hole through my wall!”

“I thought you said you’d be crashing at your friends. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to have your permission to come back home. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up, good sir. And for your information, unlike you, I actually don’t like bothering the people around me so I came home. Now would you please kick her out and shut the fuck up for once?”

“Babe, are you coming back here or what?”

Red acrylic nails wound from his body out of nowhere, and your mouth fell open as you watched the naked woman press kisses on the blades of his shoulder. You were conflicted, torn between feeling jealous that she got to touch him like that because damn was he fine, but you also felt appalled your neighbor would be this type of person.

“Babe?” you repeated with a sarcastic laugh.

Stepping away from your neighbor’s tempting pecs, you waved to the stunning woman behind him. “Hi, I’m his neighbor, I don’t mean to be a cock block or anything but I’ve been a witness to his fuckboy ways for months now. If you think you’re special to him, I assure you, you’re not. Yesterday he was just banging two girls until the sunrise. If you’re really as sane as I hope you are, I suggest you skedaddle before this man feeds you with more lies. You’re not special, hun, he’s just going to fuck everything that walks on two legs.”

“Is that true?”

“Nadia, you know how this works—”

“I was literally just on the phone with you last night!” the woman named Nadia pushed him away, but because he was bigger, he didn’t budge. Nadia turned to you, her lipstick smudged and a suspicious white stain on the edge of her lips. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look down her head, and you and your neighbor both watched as she got dressed and left, hands up in the air. “Thank you for this. I should’ve known better than to waste time and money on him.”

You snickered as Nadia pressed on the elevator buttons, a scowl sent his way. Turning to him with pride swelling up in your chest, you smirked, “How does it feel—”

“Happy now?” he growled, his eyes so dark and slit into tiny cuts you took a step back, your heart pumping frantically for different reasons. You never thought he’d be this bothered for not being able to bust a nut. “Satisfied now, Y/N? Do you even realize what you’ve just done?”

“Uhm, yes,” you scoffed, matching his tone. “I just saved that poor girl’s life. Who else knows what you would’ve done and said to her. We don’t deserve to be looked down on and treated like this, you know.”

“Neither did I. I’m just doing my job.”

“Job? You don’t even have a job! You don’t even go to university for fuck’s sake – your apartment is rundown and smells like sour cunt and feet! Maybe you should even thank me because I’m trying to give you ideas on better things to do!”

“Yeah, and be like you?” he snapped, tugging at the strings of your hoodie until you fell a step forward. “Dressed in loose shirts to hide the fact you’ve got no tits and your ass is flatter than your back? Lying to her neighbor that she’ll crash somewhere but ends up waddling back home anyway because she’s always cooped up in her apartment studying to prove that she’s not as worthless as she is and that she doesn’t have a life or friends to begin with?” tears pooled at your eyes at his words, and you knew it hurt because it was true, but did he really have to say it that way?

However, his anger got the best of him, and he didn’t stop there. “I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to skip meals and lose sleep studying for something I don’t care about because I don’t know anything else other than following daddy’s footsteps so he’d notice me more than his new bride. I’m happy with my life.”

“How did—”

“Like you said, the walls are thin. You’re not exactly so quiet to yourself, neighbor. It’s kind of pathetic you talk to the walls when you think I’m asleep because you’ve got no one else to talk to.”

Hands balled into fists at your side, you stood on your tiptoes to spit the words out. “You’re a terrible human being,” no matter how much you tried to exert dominance over him, your lips still quivered as you fought back the urge to cry. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re the one who needs to go fuck yourself and get laid,” he didn’t let you have another word as he slammed the door in your face, but you still heard him through the door anyway. “Uptight bitch.”

You were wrong.

Your neighbor wasn’t just difficult – he was completely impossible.

[Dad:] Don’t forget your date!

[You:] Dad…don’t push it.

[Dad:] I find it hard to believe my beautiful daughter can’t have one. Go out there and make some friends, Y/N, I know you isolate yourself too much. It doesn’t even have to be a boyfriend. You could date a girl for all I care. I just don’t want you to be too bored at the wedding. Bring a friend.

[You:] Fine, fine, okay.

[Dad:] But a boyfriend would still be better. Your old man isn’t getting any younger and I want grandkids in the future.

[You:] Dad!

[Dad:] love ya kid !

And so it was the turn of your events that had you groaning in your swiveling chair, the grip on your phone so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up breaking it. As if your week couldn’t get any more horrible with your neighbor’s hurtful words still living at the back of your mind, your father hadn’t stopped talking about you to his co-workers and his equally crazy mother that your grandmother didn’t waste time in calling you.

You loved your nan, you really did, but more often than not, she was much more of a pain in the ass than your father was. The old woman was ruthless, shooting you question by question on why her pretty granddaughter was still single, then came the demeaning comments of how you “weren’t living life to the fullest.”

Frustration eating away at you, you let out a silent scream.

The escort site blinked back at you mockingly, temptingly, as if to remind you that your problems could easily be solved with just a click. You chastised yourself for always having the need to solve problems fast and as easily as you could, because before you even realized what you were doing, your heart started beating a mile a minute as the other line kept ringing.

You ended up lying to your grandmother that yes, nan, I have a boyfriend, can I study for my exams now please, to which the pressing woman responded with, oh, finally! well, I won’t bother you anymore. study well, my dear, I can’t wait to see him!

Just thinking about how she would react if you came alone at your father’s wedding had you breaking out in a sweat, and you chewed at your nails while waiting for the site to pick up.

You were truly desperate now, so much so that you were actually calling a rental boy site.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Kamo Escorts! I’m Ijichi, here to assist you. What can I help you with?”

You held back a really painful cringe, biting the insides of your cheek as you got your heart to calm down. “Uhm, yeah…so this is like my first time c-calling a site like this and I don’t know what to do but…yeah.”

“I see, we get new callers too. Would you like a guide?”

“Yes, please, that’d be great thank you.”

“Kamo Escorts is all about, well, as you can see on our webpage – we have men and even women you can hire to escort you on special events. We mostly cater to clients who only need a pretty face to dangle off their arm for social company or even care, or whatever reasons the client may have and the relationship is purely business and professional, but in some cases, the escorts may have sex with the client too under the condition they are paid more.”

The gasp that left your lips was barely stifled, and you furrowed your brows at the implication. “Wh-what, so that’s like a real thing? Isn’t this…?”

Ijichi chuckled from the other line, almost as if he’d been asked this question many times before. “In a way, it is, which is why Kamo Escorts is commercially advertised for purely social company only. You may, however, negotiate with your escort if you would like more services, but we do require that you keep our escorts’ dignity and not look down on them. The service we provide may not be your typical honorable one, but we are dedicated and equally eager to be of service to this society. Should we find that you’re dehumanizing or harassing our escort, we won’t hesitate to…take some action,” the light warning of his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and Ijichi took note of your hesitant silence. “Would you still like to proceed?”

“Ye-yeah, I didn’t want the sex anyway.”

“Very well, then. What event are we looking for?”

“It’s for a relative’s wedding,” you supplied, “I need a date.”

“Any preference in escorts? Male, female, tall, short, sociable or introverted?”

Your eyes widened, your back flattening against your chair. “Oh, wow, so this is like a Build-A-Bear, okay, wait,” you chewed your nails again, racking up on your mind on who or what exactly you liked. “My ideal guy is…someone tall, and has pretty broad shoulders…I think I prefer a more introverted one too because people with too much energy sort of drains me…and someone caring and attentive, yes. Handsome too – but if that’s too much to ask for then—”

“It’s okay, Miss. I assure you all our escorts are definitely blessed in the gene department.”

At his confidence, you scrunched your nose and made yourself small on your chair. “Okay, but now that you say it, if he’s too handsome then I’m going to look like a potato next to him.”

“We’ll find someone compatible for you; we always never fail to please our clients. We’ll be able to match you with a more suitable escort if you’re more descriptive with what you want.”

“Okay, okay,” you continued, “Oh, and I like guys with long hair too, but really, anything is fine. I just want someone to effortlessly pretend they’re enamored after just one date and that they’re very glad to be there with me on the wedding. It’s even better if they’re introverted but can communicate well and isn’t shy at all. My relatives are kind of…freaky.”

Freaky couldn’t even begin to describe the chaos of your relatives.

In fact, had you not been paying for this service, you would’ve almost felt bad for the guy. He had no idea what he had coming for him – but then again, neither did you.

“I think we’ve got just the perfect guy for you,” Ijichi answered after a beat, “May I ask when is this event and how long you’d like to book the escort service for?”

“The event is in two weeks. I don’t need to meet him before the wedding because I’m very busy with exams, so I hope this guy can just act really well. As for the duration…I think just one day is enough. After the wedding, I’m coming right back home.”

“Convenient then,” he mused to himself, and you heard slight clicking from his side. “Let’s see…someone introverted and able to communicate well…definitely not Satoru, and his entirely booked by sugar mommies too…” Ijichi whispered to himself, followed by a slight humorous snort. “One last question: would you like someone older, younger, or the same age as you?”

“I’m in uni – I’d be more comfortable if they were closer to my age.”

“Oh, perfect, his schedule is oddly open for the whole month. Wonder what happened, he’s barely had free slots before…” the man was speaking to himself again, and you sat there pouting, even more dumbfounded at how this whole process worked.

Ijichi talked about this escort service and guided you so easily you almost couldn’t believe that it was as…simple as that. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but deep down in your mind, you were waiting for something fishy or weird to happen.

“I found someone for you. He’s one of our best escorts and I believe he’ll be great for this event. However, due to privacy issues, the disclosure of contacts and personal information can only happen once the escort agrees to this service. We’ll shortly get back to you if he’s up for the job. If not, I’ll find you another one quickly; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, thank you so much!”

“It’s our pleasure. Thank you for contacting Kamo Escorts – we hope to see you again!”

Once the call ended, you fell back on your bed with a sigh. Your neighbor wasn’t around the whole day, leaving you in peace and silence, and you took advantage of the rare quietness by pulling out a book. Hours passed, and you were nearly finished with half the textbook, fingers slightly numb from practicing sutures over and over again when your phone lit up with a text.

It came from an unknown number, but the words were loud and clear. Hey, this is Choso, I’ll be your escort for the wedding. Please text me here for the details and what else you expect from my service. I’m only a text and call away, please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything else.

You blinked at your phone, unsure of how to process the whole thing.

So it was official now – you rented an escort and you had a date for the event. Quite frankly, you were kind of expecting that escorts would be a lot more…flirtatious or even eager to please, but this Choso guy sounded too formal for you to picture yourself having this stranger be a good company for your event. Ijichi sounded so sure though that you no longer questioned it; smiling instead now that you’ve finally solved one of your problems.

Life felt a lot easier.

At around four in the morning, you were too worn out to keep going. Your exam was in the afternoon so you still had plenty of time to sleep, your stomach grumbled, prompting you to leave your unit to get some snacks.

Keys in hand and feet cold in your socks, you locked your door, halting in your steps when you saw your neighbor. Different from his usual comfortable clothing, he was dressed in a formal white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his large, masculine hands coming up to loosen his tie. He wasn’t aware of your presence, almost blindly walking to his door and sighing. You didn’t miss the fact his shoulders were slumped, and he looked absolutely worn out.

For a moment, you actually felt worried, until you remembered what he said to you.

“What, no pussy to fuck tonight?”

He froze in front of his door for a moment, slightly tilting back to see your aggravated stance. Upon seeing it was just you, he shook his head and turned back to unlock his door. “No thanks to you.”

“Aw, did I ruin your reputation?” you mocked sarcastically, “I’m surprised people aren’t smart enough to pick up the smell of women’s perfume on you already. Seriously, are people that desperate for touch?” It was ironic; you’d never admit it, but you weren’t any better than them. You were equally desperate to be touched despite your aversion to romantic relationships, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s normal when you’re someone people are naturally attracted to. Not that you’d get it, of course, because it’s clear you don’t get some.”

“At least my apartment doesn’t smell like pussy.”

“At least I don’t masturbate every night then pass out after one weak orgasm.”

Your cheeks burned at his offhanded comment, and even with his back turned to you, you could see the slight smile tugging at his cheeks. He must’ve felt so cocky, thinking that he’d defeated you, so you blurted out the most intelligent thing possible: “How dare you!” while grabbing onto his shoulders to make him face you. “Look me in the eye and take that back!”

“Whatever you’re planning,” he crooned, head tilted to the side and making strands of his bangs fall over his eyes. He looked absolutely handsome under the flickering lights of the hallway in that moment, and you hated how you weren’t able to take your hands off of his strong shoulders, his masculine and spicy perfume clouding your mind. “It’s not going to work. Surprise surprise, but you’re not as cute as you think you are.”

Your eyes burned with fire, the nerves in your body so closing to popping. He infuriated you so much. “And you’re not as sexy as you believe you are!”

“Oh, yeah?” The positions are suddenly switched as he cornered you beside his doorframe, both of his arms planted beside your head. Because he was taller, he had to lean down to look you in the eye, his warm, minty breath brushing over your lips. You stared at him with wide eyes, fingers raking over the wall in a silent attempt to flee. Upon seeing your pursed lips, he laughed.

“Then why are you so shaky? Do I make you nervous?” his head dipped down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Say…you only pretend to hate me, but you actually wish it was you I’m fucking every night, don’t you? Tell me…do you touch yourself when you hear me eating someone out?”

“I-I’m not—”

Before you could combust under his gaze, he pulled himself away from you, a satisfied smirk on his face at your flustered state. He chuckled lowly, keys spinning on his thick finger. “I was just teasing you, princess. No need to get so worked up.”

“I never want you near me again!”

He raised both brows as if to challenge you, and you knew from the glint in his eyes he was up to no good. “Princess, you jumped on me first.”

“I didn’t!” You shouted, immediately slapping your palm over your lips after realizing people were sleeping. He snickered at your reactions, and you pushed past him back to your unit, suddenly losing the appetite to get your precious snacks. “God, I hate you so much.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

Difficult. Unbelievable. Complicated. Idiotic. Nothing was ever easy with him.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” your father scolded from his chair, his body barely moving as the stylists fixed his hair and makeup, but his eyes glared at you from the mirror. “You’re a lot more nervous than I am, and it’s my wedding.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

Your father sighed to himself, standing up after they were done with him. He checked his appearance in the mirror for a while, nodding to himself in satisfaction. It was still a little surreal that he was going to get married again, to a woman half his age of all people, but he was happy, and his bride seemed to really love him too, so you no longer questioned your father’s decisions. He was an adult, anyway, he could make his own decisions.

“You’re waiting for your boyfriend, you say?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he like?”

You stiffened at the question. Not wanting your sharp-eyed father to pick up on the smallest cues, you lied through your teeth despite not having any idea on who or what kind of person the escort was.

Other than discussing details of how you two supposedly met, conversations had been crisp and short. You were lucky that the escort seemed to be nice and smart enough to not always ask you to explain everything, and he was crisp and curt in his texts too. No flirty or suggestive messages, not even a single emoji. He seemed a little stiff, and while you worried if you could fake chemistry with someone who seemed like a wall, you were also assured by the fact he wasn’t some creep.

“Nice. He’s sweet. You’ll like him.”

“And when did you meet him?”

“Dad, do I have to tell this story all over again?” you groaned, “We met after exams, he goes to a different uni and he studies law—”

“Law. Impressive.”

“Of course you’re impressed,” you rolled your eyes. Coming from a family of doctors and engineers, your father, and pretty much everyone else in the family, also expected that you’d date someone who was equally intelligent and had enough connections in different industries at least. It just so happened you were really lucky your escort also really did study law for a bit before he became an escort; a detail you never got enough explanation for. “He’ll be here anytime soon. Just you wait.”

In reality, you were the one who couldn’t wait.

You were excited and nervous at the same time to see this mysterious escort, and you were in the middle of talking to your father and his bride when someone called you.

“Y/N?”

You turned around with a bright grin. That must be him! You clasped at the hems of your dress so you could meet this mysterious, rigid man properly, but the moment your eyes met his equally startled gaze, you choked on your own breath. “Y-you—”

Choso stood before you; handsome as ever in his suit and tie, his iconic twin tails still there. How ever would your father believe you now that he was a lawyer, especially with his messy hair and face tattoo? You loved it and found it sexy on him, no denying that, but your father was a little bit more traditional. But that aside, it was Choso?!

His professionalism arose and he regained his composure quicker than you did, the smile on his face so natural and alluring even you almost fell for it.

Choso wrapped an arm around your waist before kissing you on the cheek, and the skin felt extremely hot under his lips. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, because Choso was pressed flush against you, and he looked at you with stars shining in his eyes you didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.

Maybe a fucked up mix of both.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad,” he explained with a small smile on his lips, and he looked so handsome and smelled so good in that moment you were left gaping at him as he bowed to your father, arm politely extended. “You must be Y/N’s father. It’s very nice to meet you sir. I’m her boyfriend, Choso.”

To your surprise, your father eagerly shook his hand with the brightest grin he’d worn the whole night before he faced you with a laugh. “No way,” he beamed, gesturing to Choso. “He’s your boyfriend? You managed to snag this fine man?”

“Dad!” your ears burned with embarrassment. Choso only laughed; making you painfully aware of his large, warm hand resting at the small of your back.

“I heard you’re a lawyer, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

Your father nodded in approval, the two exchanging over words about what his plans were for the future and how his studies were going. You stood there with a pounding heart, fearful that Choso could fuck up any moment, but he was so effortless and easy going. Had you not been the one paying him, you would’ve been fooled too.

So this was the life of an escort.

“So how much did my daughter pay you?”

“Dad, I didn’t—”

“I mean, there’s no way she actually charmed you with her non-existent social skills. My daughter here can’t even talk to someone and look them in the eye, much less ask someone out, so how did this happen?”

Choso laughed at your father’s lighthearted comment, saving the day for what seemed like the hundredth time already. “I approached her first, sir. We were both eating in this small diner and it was cramped, so we shared tables and started conversation,” Suddenly, his grip tightened on you as he pulled you closer, your ear now resting above the lulling and steady beating of his heart. How was he so calm?

He lightly squeezed your hip and it had you freezing under his touch, stiffening even more when he looked down at you so adoringly. “Guess it went downhill from there.” God, you had no idea who this man was.

“Really? What did you guys talk about?”

Choso opened his mouth to speak, but it was there, that damned glint on those dark eyes again that you clutched at his bicep. He may be damn good at this job, but knowing Choso, he was enjoying this way too much.

Anything you couldn’t predict or control properly was a huge no in your game, and you pulled Choso away before he could say something downright humiliating.

“Dad, just go focus on your wedding. I want to spend time with my boyfriend, okay?” You couldn’t even begin to fathom the inward cringe upon your words, the feeling only worsening when Choso fought back a laugh masked with a cough. Before your father could say anything else, you dragged Choso rather harshly, but he didn’t mind; he followed you obediently. “Come with me. I need to talk to you,” You didn’t stop until you were both alone in a desolated corner, and finally, you hissed at him. “What are you doing here?!”

“I should be asking you the same thing – but it turns out you’re my client.”

“Client? So you really are my escort?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So those women…”

“All my clients,” he confirmed your thoughts. “I assure you they knew what they were getting into. In fact, they were the ones who asked for that special service that caused you to lose your sleep every night. That woman the other day was just pissed because she booked me for three days, but I lied that I was available until the duration she wanted when I wasn’t.”

“You mean you were still working an escort for somebody else?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Why did you lie then?”

“It’s more money,” Choso stared down at his hands before his eyes flitted back up to yours, his face unreadable. “I’m saving up so I can move somewhere else. Our apartment isn’t exactly the most ideal considering my profession. I need to find someplace quieter with thicker walls this time,” he smiled, “That way, I’ll no longer bother my sweet neighbor,” your lips felt dry at his words, your tongue darting out to lick at them while Choso scrutinized you under his gaze.

“I have to admit though – you asking for escort service is the last thing I’d ever imagine you doing. Not that I’m complaining since it’s still money in my pocket, but you’re not the most pleasing company to be with.”

“Oh, you bet, Choso. Had I known you were going to be my escort, I would’ve declined long ago,” you groaned, your head dropping in your hands. “What was Ijichi thinking when he said I would be compatible with you?”

“You’re not,” he stated, “But I am compatible with you – as I am with pretty much everyone else. I’m one of the best escorts, and soon you’ll see why.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by then, but it seemed Choso was quite eager to show his skills off when he dragged you back inside the reception event. The whole time, you couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else other than Choso. It still felt hard to believe that the whole time, he really was doing his job, and upon seeing how easily he had people believing you two were an item despite you just standing silently beside him, you felt guilty that you disrupted his “work” like that.

Guilt gnawed at you as Choso made everyone laugh, and soon your relatives were cooing, praising you and congratulating you that you were “happy” now.

Back then, you always looked down on him and even called him a mere fuckboy, but Choso was so much more than that. He was intelligent; his past as a lawyer proved that, and whatever happened that caused him to work in this industry kept lingering in your mind.

There was no denying it now.

You respected this man – admired him even.

“And now it’s time to join the newly married couple on the dance floor! Come on, people, bring your dates up here for a twirl!”

You remained planted in your seat, too comfortable with Choso’s jacket draped around your bare shoulders. You’d lost count of how many times your head ducked down for the lack of sleep, and as much as you loved your dad, you wanted nothing more than to go home and rest.

Choso offered his hand to yours, a teasing smile on his face. He wriggled his eyebrows up and down, and he looked so utterly ridiculous that you couldn’t believe the boring man you were texting was the same infuriating yet undeniably attractive bastard who was your neighbor was the same fun. The world is very small, it seemed, and you weren’t sure whether you were brave enough to venture these strange places and feelings.

“Uh-uh. No. I’m not dancing.”

“Two left feet?”

“No, I’m wearing heels. My feet hurts.”

“Then take it off.”

“And get my feet dirty?” you scoffed. As if to prove your point, you snuggled deeper into his jacket that smelled heavenly like him, closing your eyes as you pretended to sleep. “Sitting here isn’t so bad. Plus, look at them, all staring at each other with goo-goo eyes. It’s revolting,” you shuddered.

Through the sickeningly romantic music playing in the background, Choso fell silent. You cracked an eye open, frowning when Choso studied each of your features carefully. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem to hate the idea of love.”

“Because it’s pointless.”

Choso narrowed his eyes at your answer, brows bunching up at the way your shoulders squared to keep yourself away. Then, he stood up and sighed, offering his hand to you once more.

“I won’t really ask you to explain why, because frankly, I don’t care,” you stared at his large palms for a few seconds. There must be a ghost possessing your body because you looped your fingers through his and allowed him to guide you on the dance floor despite your mind’s protests, and soon, Choso’s eyes were all over you. “But if you don’t want your money to go down the drain and you really want to convince everyone, I suggest you forget about that mindset for just a few more hours,” his voice dropped down to a low whisper, his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes turned solemn, his hand on your waist gentle. “Dance with me. Let’s show them how madly in love we are with each other.”

“We met just last week, remember?”

“Love at first sight, princess,” Choso kissed your forehead, sending your heart thumping and running to another dimension. Oddly enough, you didn’t mind, and your hands travelled from his strong arms to his broad shoulders instinctively. “Take your heels off. You can step on my feet and I’ll dance for us both. Just put your arms around my neck – yes just like that,” he nodded with a smile when your fingertips nervously played with his hair, and Choso began to dance you both in time with the music. “Are you good?”

“I don’t like this lack of space between us.”

Choso smirked, “Why, do I get you all hot and bothered?”

“Jesus, Choso, you can’t be serious for a minute, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard to be serious when you’re so flustered and adorable right now,” you pulled at his hair in response, but of course, he wasn’t really hurt.

“Look at me,” he demanded, but you refused, keeping your gaze planted on your bare feet on top of his again. “Hey. I said look at me,” he tilted your chin up until you’re forced to be like prey under his gaze, his breath tickling the bow of your lips. “I am your escort for tonight – and I humbly ask that you do your part as my client so I can perform my job well. I need you to look into my eyes and pretend you’re in love with me.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone,” you suddenly admitted, “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be,” he replied, softly this time, and his hands ran down tenderly to your hips to pull you closer to him. “I’ll be there to catch you.”

You couldn’t remember who leaned in first. The only thing you remembered was that the music faded in the background when you kissed him – or maybe he kissed you – fuck, you didn’t really remember. Eventually, the kiss grew too heated, his hands squeezing your waist while you moan at the taste of chocolate and wine on his expert tongue.

Choso easily read your mind and swooped you away from the crowd, the both of you stumbling until you made it out to the venue and onto the beach.

The salty air kissed your skin while Choso carried you bridal style, arms looped around his neck while he kept moving his lips above yours. He was laughing through the kiss with how messy and eager you were, tugging at his shirt to encourage him to unbutton it. Choso set you both down on the darker, isolated part of the beach where nothing but the sound of waves lapping against one another could be heard with your breathless pants and his chuckles.

You were lying on his jacket, dress bunched up to your chest while your legs were spread wide open for him. “Ch-Choso,” you choked out when his tongue ran flat across your slick folds, his hands keeping your hips pinned down to the sand. “I-I, please.”

“I got you, princess,” was all he said before he completely dived into your heat, his sharp nose brushing into your cunt.

It didn’t take long until you were spasming in his hold, legs closing around his head. Choso groaned into your pussy, a finger working its way inside your sopping cunt while he licks and slurps your arousal like it was fucking water. Now you understood why those girls always lost their mind – Choso was a fucking expert when it came to worshipping pussy.

Choso pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, but he was kind, eager to please you that he immediately replaced it with his tongue.

You cried out when you felt his tongue entering your hole, one thumb pulling the hood of your lips up to reveal your sensitive pearl. Choso rubbed your clit fervently, his other hand reaching up to squeeze and tug at your breasts while he drank your juices dripping down his tongue as if you would be his last meal – and he honestly wished you were, because you tasted like heaven on him and he wanted more.

Once he felt you clamping down on his tongue so tightly he struggled to retrieve his warm muscle back, he helped you reach your high by pinching your clit. You moaned out his name, the sound sending blood straight down his cock, and he groaned into your pussy the moment you grinded on his face as you relaxed from your orgasm.

Choso didn’t give you the chance to recover from your orgasm, pulling you up to his lap before he’s kissing you again. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue, his face and cheeks sweet from your arousal and cum.

You should be ashamed, but you couldn’t find a single bone in your body that felt shy right now. Choso was right – there was no point in being shameful when it came to your pleasure.

The kiss was sloppy, more tongue than lips and teeth clashing onto another. Choso grinded you on his hardened erection in search of your heat that would bring him relief, but he slowed down and pulled away from you, a string of saliva connected from your lips. He wanted you – wanted to fuck you so badly – so he searched your eyes for the answer when you aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Is this okay? Are you sure with this?”

“Yeah,” you gritted your teeth when his tip entered your tight cunt, your walls sucking him in greedily already. Choso’s head dropped down to your shoulder, his teeth sinking down to your shoulder. You slowly sat down on his thick length, but then froze before he could bottom out. “Wait, no, I’m broke! I can’t pay for your extra services!”

“It’s free for you, princess,” he rasped out, “Now sit on my lap so I can feel you around me already.”

“Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

Through the pleasure that had his abs rippling, Choso managed a laugh. “You might want to get used to it.”

“Why would I?” you breathed out, eyes shutting tight once he fully slid into you. He allowed you to get used to the sudden stretch; it had been too long since you’ve been touched this way that you were impossibly tight around him right now. Your chest rose and fall with each faltering breath, your nails running down his back when Choso gave a deep, experimental thrust that immediately hits your sweet spot.

You moaned, cheek resting on his shoulder as Choso set the pace, squeezing your ass as he bounced you up and down his cock. “You’re gone after this. Once this contract is over, you’re moving away and I won’t get to see you anymore. I-I won’t lose sleep anymore after hearing you fuck all those women and gosh, I hate you so much, you know that?”

“I hated you too,” he groaned through your skin, “Or at least, that’s what I told myself so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Hurt? I would never hurt you,” Really, you praised yourself for still being able to form coherent sentences even after Choso kept fucking into you.

“I’m an escort, princess, I’m everybody’s and nobody’s at the same time,” he explained almost angrily, and his lips zealously sucked love bites to the sensitive flesh of your neck, “Even if you won’t hurt me, we’re bound to crash and burn at some point. This is why we’re not allowed to get attached to anyone,” his lips brushed over her collarbone, his canines dragging along to make red marks. “Why we’re not allowed to fall,” he squeezed her breast in the palm of his hand, twisting the peaked nipple until you whined, hips bucking deeper into his cock. “Why we’re not allowed to love.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“I’ve always liked you,” he laughed through the pleasure, holding your hips down so he could drive his cock deeper into you. Yes, he was selfish, yes, he was frustrated – and his feelings burst through the way Choso powered into you. You fell limp in his arms and he easily caught you like he always did, his eyes blown wide as he stared right into your eyes, his dick still pummeling through your gummy walls.

Choso inhaled sharply when you clenched down on him, an elongated moan spilling past your lips. “I liked you the moment you moved in and you fell flat on your face before you could greet me.”

“Shut up, don’t remind me of that!” you raked your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood, and Choso concealed the pain with light chuckle, the pain only prompting him to absolutely use you. “You’re seriously bringing it up now when you’re – ah, fuck – b-buried in me?”

Choso tugged at one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, the sudden change of angle had you pressing down deeper into him. It felt like you were sinking closer and closer to his cock, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you’re crying out in his arms, scratches evident on his back.

“For now,” he breathed out, “I want to at least be selfish enough to want you now, just for now if fate won’t still allow it.”

“W-we can try,” you said in your lust-filled gaze, lips crashing down messily to his while you bounced on him, your hips slamming down at the same to meet his thrusts. “It’s not going to be easy, but we can try, right?” You cupped his face, surprised with the sudden vulnerability from his hooded eyes, looking so innocent and beautiful as if he wasn’t painting your insides white.

“Okay,” he nodded, brows pinching together. And that was all the both of you needed before Choso sank his fangs down the column of your neck to hold on his low groans; your head thrown back as you both drown in the pleasure of being with one another.

In the blink of an eye, all tenderness is Choso’s touches replaced by the hunger in his eyes and the power of his lust-filled thrusts. You were a moaning mess by the time your hips sit flat on his pelvic bone and his balls brush on your ass from how deep he was hitting you, and you felt his teeth nibble at the side of your breasts again as he warned, “But for now, I’m not going to go easy on you – not when I’ve wanted you for so long and I’ve been so hard for you these all time.”

And you allowed him. Because nothing was ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d try pushing through hell and back.

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: kazutora x reader

♡   —   summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡   —   a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones​​ for being my lovely beta <3

♡   —  masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa.  “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash. 

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again. 

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

[angeldcgs]

as a therapist who didn’t shy away from the tricky clients who needed more specialized care, fern was more than used to them showing up ridiculously late, not showing up at all, or even barging in on another session with some sort of crisis that required immediate action. arlo was early, but he had been sitting out there so patiently and politely for her, and he did go out of his way to bring her a coffee. sacrificing her short break to prep between sessions just to accommodate his needs wouldn’t be the end of the world. fern never had to do all that much to prepare for arlo, anyway— their sessions had begun to feel ingrained in her routine, not to the point where they were predictable or boring, but where she felt comfortable enough to just go off the cuff and roll with whatever he brought to the table that week. “that memory of yours is incredible,” she marveled. it would never cease to amaze her, just how much he’d been hiding under that reserved exterior of his, but it fit. most of the world’s most truly brilliant people were quiet, and troubled. “i’d love it if some of that would rub off on me… i almost left my dry cleaning at home a grand total of three times this morning, and after all that, i still forgot to bring the book i wanted to show you! i can’t even blame being old, either… see, this is why i say you’re better off staying away from the parties, and the drugs, all that bullshit.” it wouldn’t hurt for him to dabble now that he was at least a fully grown adult, but fern had gone a little too far a little too fast from adolescence all the way through her twenties, and there were lasting effects to this day. that wasn’t enough to stop her from getting her degrees, though, an achievement she could always be proud of because she knew that it was all earned by her intellect, and not her looks or charm. sitting across from arlo, she found herself genuinely eager to hear how things had progressed since their last session, becoming slightly personally invested in his journey no matter how hard she tried to detach herself from him emotionally. “quiet isn’t bad. was it peaceful quiet, or lonely quiet?” sometimes it could be both, but fern was guessing he experienced the latter. one thing he was sorely missing from his life was connection with his peers, as many young people she worked with were. “that’s ok, it’s not your fault! i’m sure you’re trying your best, but after so many years of your brain functioning one way, it’s gonna take a while to get it to reprogram. the most important thing is that you just be kind to yourself while you’re training it, ok? it’s like strengthening any muscle, it takes time and patience.” tapping her pen against the open notepad on her lap, fern crossed one leg over the over and took a moment to think about her next approach. “there are a couple more unconventional treatments we could try, since your anxiety seems to be fairly resistant to our current efforts... i guess what i wanted to know is, what’s your trust level with me? i know i’m still kind of a stranger to you, so it can be scary putting your trust in me when it comes to anything more than just sitting and talking, but just know that there are other options we can try in addition to talk therapy, if this doesn't feel like enough for you.”

on the days he didn't show up early to sit in her waiting room, happy to live in the possibility she might come out early and talk with him for a short while before their session started, arlo still maintained a habit of punctuality and stayed in his car, nervously tapping his fingers across the wheel and wishing the minutes to tick by faster. it wasn't a habit he had strictly developed for fern, he had always despised the concept of being late and yet that fear had only increased in his attempt to make the older woman grow fond of him. the promise of having a longer session was more exciting than he let on, he gave a shy smile and resisted the urge to look down at their hands as the coffee cup was exchanged. the smallest of touches from her had become intimate in a way he couldn't have imagined when he'd first signed up for a session. they weren't meant to touch, boundaries were in place for a reason but if they made him feel better, then he couldn't make sense as to why they should be withheld. "you mentioned it in one of our first sessions." arlo followed after fern as she moved back inside her office and shoved his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his skinny jeans to stop himself from fidgeting. he wouldn't stalk her, that would be ridiculous. he knew some boundaries. if he wanted to find something out about her, it made more sense to be straightforward and ask her, even if it had to be in a roundabout way. to a stranger it might not have appeared like he respected her, but arlo couldn't have disagreed further. everything he did was out of the deepest respect, he believed she was the most intelligent woman he'd ever known, she had dedicated her life to helping other people, he couldn't have admired her more if he tried. "i said i was having trouble sleeping and you asked if i was having a lot of caffeine, and i told you that i didn't like coffee." as always, he sat down on the couch parallel to her chair, slightly hunched over to draw himself closer to her, and to close himself off from being seen too intently. "you thought that was funny because you can't survive without a coffee in the morning, and then i asked what sort you usually get because maybe i hadn't found the right type for me." his memory had been a problem for him throughout his life, his sister had told him once that he only chose to remember the bad things about their lives but that wasn't the case, he remembered everything and it just so happened that a lot of his life hadn't been the happiest. once fern had made herself comfortable too, arlo thought back to the week he had had. "it was... quiet." he admitted. "work, studying, i didn't really see anyone." he struggled to connect with the people on his degree, it had been an ongoing thing they had been working on, but it was hard to put the effort in when the one person he wanted to talk to was twice his age and almost entirely unattainable; it didn't stop him from trying though. "i've been practicing the techniques we talked about but... i don't know, i can't make my brain quieten down. i keep trying but... sometimes i think i'm not very good at helping myself."