#I am physically shaking PLEASE
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elise-the-potato · 3 months ago
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A girl in class called me cute today I'M GONNA IMPLODE. WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW JOYOUS AND WHIMSICAL I FELT. GETTING COMPLIMENTS FROM GIRLS HIT DIFFERENT
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jazzzzzzhands · 1 year ago
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Wally dating sim, Wally dating sim, WALL-
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byanyan · 2 months ago
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agggghhhhhhhhghghgh my love-hate relationship with writing character bios...
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morning-day-yew · 8 months ago
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I have no energy.
How is the day not over yet?
I thought that this was behind me!
All of this self hatred. All of the pain. All of the tiredness. But the numbness is gone. And that makes this infinitely worse!
I want to cry but I can’t. I don’t know how anymore.
Each day I get closer to where I was. Where I was preparing to give up every tomorrow I could have. Tossing aside a future that I still can’t see.
I’m drowning without any chance to catch my breath. Sinking deeper into suffering with a smile on my face. I’m not sure who I am anymore.
I don’t know if I am alone in this husk. If there is another in here, please help me! I don’t know how much longer I can tread water.
If there isn’t anyone else… I don’t think I can keep it all together. The shaking only stops when I can keep my hands busy. When I can have something to hold me together. But there’s too much. Too much light! Too much noise! Too many expectations. Too many asking for help. Too much blood, and skin, and hair!
When am I allowed to rest…?
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aspecbuddie · 10 months ago
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sttoru · 6 months ago
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 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. nanami kento x pregnant wife!female reader. smut, pwp. cunnilingus. pregnancy kink kinda. not proof read. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, honey, darling’
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kento nanami cannot leave you alone, even if you’re pregnant. he’s a natural provider and always wants the best for you. especially when you’re carrying his child—which he thanks you for every single day. one day he shows his appreciation through words of affirmation, the other day it’s with endless gifts.
this time it’s by relieving your stress underneath the table while you’re peacefully eating breakfast.
“fuck. . ken,” you tug at his hair with your free hand, the other holding the toast you’ve been nibbling on. your head rolls back and your breath comes out in short gasps as kento’s tongue flicks over your sensitive cunt.
you didn’t expect your morning to be like this, but you’re not complaining. kento always has to start off his day by worshipping your body in any type of way. he’ll rub your small baby bump while you’re cooking, whisper sweet nothings into your ear, kiss you all over while telling you how beautiful you look and even more.
this time his usual body worship had evolved into something more. from kissing your little pregnant belly and praising you for bearing his child, to him kneeling between your legs, slobbering all over your soaked pussy.
“i know, sweetheart. your dear husband will make you feel better, i promise,” kento coos, his voice muffled as his mouth collides with your glistening folds over and over again. he’s getting lost in your essence—the slick messily coating his lips.
his fingers rub your clit a little in the meantime, not forgetting to pleasure you to his best ability. your repetitive moans bounce off the walls of the kitchen, echoing in his ears. you sound like an angel and your body feels like one as well.
kento tries his best to keep his own grunts down. your cunt is dripping so much, amazing amounts of wetness cover his mouth to the point that it trickles down his chin. he’s without a doubt getting drunk on your essence.
the place between your thighs is considered a heaven on earth to the blonde man.
“mhh, are you feeling better, honey?” kento asks, opening his eyes halfway to look up at you, “am i pleasing my wife well?”
the sight of your husband kneeling in front of you, his hands holding your hips steady on the chair and his mouth ravaging your puffy folds makes you forget all about the morning sickness you’ve been complaining of.
“f-feels way too good,” your breath is shaky as you try to focus on eating. you can’t physically get that piece of bread to your mouth, your hand shaking from the pleasure you’re being granted. your pussy tingles and aches with each lick or suck—your hips trying to buck against kento’s mouth.
“that’s great,” kento murmurs, his nose bumping against the bundle of nerves that’s nestled between your folds. the place that makes you go wild, “that’s all i want.” you squeal and find yourself dropping your toast to place your other hand on kento’s head.
you tug at his hair and gain another groan from him. kento notices that you’ve stopped eating and he pulls away from your pulsing cunt for a second, kissing your inner thighs gently. “you need to eat up, darling,” kento’s hot breath hits your bare pussy as he stares at you with love and lust in his eyes, “you’re eating for two now after all.”
he taps your little bump and leans in to kiss your swollen skin. an affectionate smile appears on his handsome features, one that makes you melt immediately. you know kento won’t resume eating you out unless you take a bite of your food again.
“fine,” you pout and grab your toast. you take a small bite and at the same time, you feel kento’s lips kiss your core back. the tip of his tongue slithers up and down your slit, circling your pulsating hole before kissing your clit.
he’s taking his sweet time to make you cum. after all, this is meant to soothe and pleasure you. to take your mind off the negative aspects of your pregnancy. if there’s one thing kento can do as your man, as the father of your child, it’s to take care of you both mentally and physically, in any way you need.
“how about your breakfast, k-ken?” you ask through quick whines. your entire body feels like it’s on fire. kento’s large hands keep holding your body down on the chair so you wouldn’t have the chance to escape his loving gestures. your teary eyes look over the table, “your coffee is getting cold.”
kento chuckles at your worries. you’re selfless, even when he’s offered to pleasure you himself. he leaves a trail of kisses up and down your throbbing pussy, his saliva mixing with your slick and causing lewd strings of clear liquid to stick to his chin.
“don’t you worry. i got my breakfast right here,” kento answers softly while eating you out. every jaw movement is down with precision—it’s slow yet filled with passion. he slurps up any excess fluid every now and then, not caring if you’re making a mess on the chair or on his face.
kento smiles against your wetness when he hears you moan at his words. the way you look so ethereal, staring down at him with open lips, drooling a bit with bread crumbs staining the area around your mouth is absolutely endearing, “you’re so cute. keep looking at me, darling.”
you cannot believe this man. he’s so caring, so loving. you definitely chose the right person to marry and have children with. his rough fingers come up to rub your small baby bump again, not forgetting to show you his appreciation through subtle touches in the meantime.
“so sweet,” kento sighs as he swallows drops of your slick, “letting me take care of you like this . . . such a good wife.”
he’s getting drunk on you, definitely. the taste of your essence and the fact that you’re pregnant with his child right now—the fact that he’s the one who impregnated you and made you a soon-to-be mother—is driving him insane. his cock is dripping with pre-cum, ready to burst.
but, he’ll hold himself back for your sake. you’re going to be taken care of first since you’re his priority and always will be.
being pregnant is so worth it when your husband is kento nanami.
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backinmyphase · 17 days ago
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Are we still friends? - G. S.
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Synopsis: There were many times your friendship with Satoru was hanging on a tight string. You had always worked through it. But this time was different. Even if you loved Satoru... - It would be hard to forgive.
wc. 11.2k (I'm sorry :'))
Content warnings: Satoru is a bit of an ass, leaving someone alone in an unsafe environment, SFW, mention of alcohol, Angst, Angst MUCH Angst, comfort to the end, year long pining, Satoru is an idiot and I mean an IDIOT
A/n: Happy birthday Satoru Gojo, my dumb idiot <333 (I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. I also want to thank everyone who said they wanted a whole part of this drabble, I'm happy for every comment)
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Fall 2005
"Why are you avoiding me?"
You finally got him alone, without all his new friends surrounding him and making you feel small. Right here behind the sport gym of this old place you had to call your school. Finally you had a moment alone, to talk to him, after days of silence between you. Finally you could get this weird tension out of the way that had infested itself since the beginning of the school year.
After all it was just Satoru, right?
Just Satoru, who rolled his eyes, while turning his head away. "I'm not."
"Stop lying, you are." You followed his gaze, trying to read his expression. But there was no need for that, since he snapped his head back to you after you spoke, looking at you with that terrible expression which hid nothing.
"Oh my god, just because I am not running after you every day, does it mean I'm avoiding you!" He groaned, a hand in his hair making it messy.
"Jeez, you are so clingy."
You stared at him. Blinked to see if you just imagined that. Blinked again. Nothing changed. "Excuse me?"
He didn't say anything now, which only made your anger grow. "I'm trying to make sense out of your childish actions, Satoru! You are the one who just stopped talking to me, leaving me alone in English, even though we have a project together. And now don't tell me that's not avoidance!"
You were breathing heavily, while glaring at him but he only scoffed with a smile on his face, a smile you didn't know.
"Oh please, if you need help and attention that bad run after your little boyfriend!"
"What?" your voice rose a whole octave. "What are you talking about?"
"You know, Rayo or Ruya, whatever." he waved with his hand, pronouncing every letter of the name with almost disgust.
"Ryu? He is my partner for a physics project, for God's sake!" While shaking your head out of shock, you couldn't help but huff. Of all people, Satoru should know.
"Please." He chuckled with such a cold tone. You have never heard such a tone fron him. "Everyone knows you two are hooking up."
"What?" everything seemed to stop. Slowly you searched his gaze, but Satoru looked away.
"Who says that?"
You have never seen him acting that way. So detached. Why didn't he even look at you? Where was the Satoru who watched sad romance movies with you? Where was the honest Satoru?
Where was your best friend? Where was the Satoru you... Knew?
"Satoru, who is talking about me?"
He kept his head low, but you could still see a small glint of guilt in his eyes.
"Is it your friends?"
Something inside you was panicking at his lack of answer. At the lack of denial. What was also said about you? What did he gossip with them about?
"About what are they talking?"
You could see him gulp. But he still didn't say anything. Why wasn't he saying anything? If he let them talk about you, he at least had to tell you what it was about. Especially since he knew.
You had talked with him about your fear of high school and the way people gossiped and the rumors which ruined the reputation one had to uphold.
You had talked with him about trying to keep your head low.
"Satoru, what are they saying about me?" You couldn't help it, your voice rose.
And then he just started moving. Just walking slowly away. Didn't even look at you before. He could talk with these people about you but couldn't look into your face?
"Satoru if you just walk away now, I swear I will never talk to you again."
He stopped in his tracks.
"Satoru -"
"God, can you shut up?"
It was an ugly scream. But not as ugly as the expression he gave you as he finally looked at you. That was a look of disgust. And with an awfully calm voice he added;
"You are so noisy."
You blinked at him. One time. Two times.
That was not your best friend. That was a boy who was hiding whatever distain he had towards you for years. Years you thought he was the only person who understood you.
People change. People fall out.
"Forget it, Gojo."
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Fall 2009
"You are avoiding Satoru."
It's like being pushed into cold water in warm clothes.
The stirring of the kettle is the only sound in the kitchen, helping to keep the awkwardness away. Shoko sat at the kitchen table with a glass of juice, her look remaining on your back, as you made yourself tea.
"I'm not."
Only after the kettle rang you allowed yourself to move again. Carefully, you took the kettle, pouring yourself the hot water into your cup with the teabag.
"You are." She took a sip.
You watched as the water changed its color to light brown.
"He is worried, you know?" you heard the shaking of her head. "Can't stop pestering me."
You couldn't help but scoff as you turned around to her, hot teacup in your hands. You placed it down gently and took a seat opposite of her. "Of course he is."
She was staring at you with that stare you knew. The stare which was contemplating what to do and what to say. You stirred your tea with a small spoon and placed the used teabag on a small tissue. The tea was still way too hot. But you still took a sip.
It burned.
"What did he do?"
You looked at her face. Her eyes were gentle and for the first time since a while she wasn't just Satoru's good friend, she was your roommate. Your friend.
You couldn't help but smile. Even if it didn't reach your eyes.
"What did he tell you?"
And that's when you saw it. Her eyes twitching, glancing at her phone on the side of the table. Just that small glance was enough. You knew. Knew, he had made her start talking to you. Knew, he wanted her to push you to answer. Knew, of course, he sent his friends to ask you, instead of just leaving you alone.
"Just that you are mad at him for no reason again. His words not mine."
Satoru Gojo was such an asshole.
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"Sooooo... she didn't tell you anything?"
Satoru would be lying if he said he didn't wait the whole day to meet up with his friends. He had waited in the cafe for roughly an hour now, even though it wasn't the discussed time. But he just couldn't keep waiting. Waiting to get any possible news, any updates of what you could have said. Especially from Shoko.
But she just rolled her eyes at him.
"No Satoru, you should probably know what you did. If she is that mad at you, it's probably something big."
He shook his head, trying to think of anything he did that could've pissed you of. He glanced down at his hot chocolate - his third since he got here - and wondered why you just wouldn't tell him what he did.
After all, communication is key in a friendship, right?
Suguru shook his head at him. "Since when is she avoiding you?"
"Since 9 days." There was no need for math, Satoru had counted down the days since you wouldn't even glance at him, when he tried to talk to you. How you just walked past him in your own apartment, when he met up with Shoko and Geto. How you locked yourself in your room.
"I don't get why she is acting so childish now." he mumbled to himself.
No nod, no wave, no glance. It was crazy. It was dumb. It was just like five years ago when he was the one who shut you out of his life.
The loud sound of Suguru sipping his tea snapped him out of his thoughts. Suguru placed his teacup down on the table and tilted his head.
"Didn't you go out together nine days ago? That Friday?" 
There was a beat of silence in the room. Only the sound of the coffee machine in the background and the new customers ordering. Satoru blinked at his friends. One time. Two times.
"We did?"
Geto and Shoko shared a look. "Oh Satoru..."
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You couldn't help but groan when you woke up. Your body seemed so heavy as you stood up, like every morning. Well every one since that one.
You glanced around your room, feeling horrible as you saw the dirty dishes you used yesterday. But you just didn't want to eat anywhere else anymore. You didn't continue talking with Shoko yesterday, for all means you started to avoid her too.
You knew, to all your friends you seemed unreasonable. You didn't go out, didn't leave your room and of course ignored Satoru. You worked on your psychology major online, the professors also accepting your work. Overall you tried to avoid any contact with your friends.
Because you just had realized; all of them were also Satoru's friends.
And who of them would put you before him? Before the golden boy Satoru Gojo? The boy who you had held so dearly to your heart.
Too dearly.
Your phone went off, making you sit up. It was already 8 am. You had to go to work or else your boss would be mad.
With one push you got out of bed, making yourself ready. Your phone lit up again. The last days you had started to ignore it. But still you took it everywhere you went.
You tiptoed your way into the kitchen, hoping to avoid running into Shoko. And you sighed relieved, - lucky you - she seemed to still be asleep. No used glasses or dishes. Just you and your kettle.
A coffee machine was too expensive so tea had to hold up.
While the kettle was working, you made yourself a slice of bread, with butter and cheese. Tea and bread, the breakfast of the winners. You took your first sip out of your teacup, sighing at the hot feeling, which warmed you. It was starting to get really cold, you needed the warmth.
It was mornings like these, which made you like fall.
The walk to your workplace was beautiful, the trees all in different colors, painting a picture worth of drawing. But unfortunately you were no artist. You were just a college student working as a part time barista. So you had to hurry up, to please your manager.
The woman wasn't happy with you, since you took the last couple days off. You knew it was hard in this environment, since it sorely relied on the broke students nearby, which were as employees really unreliable. Or at least that was what she was always complaining about.
But you needed the break, or you would have come to work with tear streaks on your cheeks.
You opened the door to the small coffee shop, met by the annoyed look of your manager. She stood at the counter with her arms crossed, her face only lighting up by a small bit as she saw you.
"There you are! Hurry up, we open in 10 minutes. So change into uniform!" she went into the backrooms, her voice echoing in the room. "Hurry, I said!"
You couldn't help but sigh, as you retreated into the small changing room.
There was something so heavy, when you started dressing in the apron. An uncomfortable feeling, a feeling telling you you are sick and should head home. But you had to pay to have a home.
You made your way back to the counter, leaning on it, while hoping there wouldn't be as many customers as usual.
You turned around to look at the menu and you were surprised, there were a couple of new additions on it. Macchiato and Flat white, which you have never made before. You hoped it could just be made by the expensive coffee machine next to the menu.
There were also new teas added to the menu. Lemon and Mint were new kinds, but personally you wouldn't drink them.
A ring behind you startled you. Great. You glanced at the clock next to the big menu. 9:05. Insane people.
You kept your look on the coffee machine, searching for the buttons you will have to use, trying to calm yourself that it was only one person. Even if their steps to the counter were very determined, surely they were just a normal person, wanting a normal coffee? Not a big order, you had to triple take to get right, surely?
You turned around. "Good morning, how can I -"
You stopped as you saw the white hair.
There he stood, leaning forward on the counter, white hair standing a bit up and those ocean eyes staring up at you.
" - help you."
That's why you needed a break. Because he knew where you worked. And you knew he would show up, distracting you, making you furious with just his smug face.
"You haven't answered my texts."
While squinting your eyes, you said again with a firmer voice; "How can I help you?"
He frowned, taking his arms off the counter while standing up straight again. But as he studied your expression, he seemed to get what you wanted to get across. He sighed.
"A hot chocolate please."
You nodded, while pretending to type things into the Cash register to keep your eyes down. Avoiding his piercing look.
"Here or take out?"
"Here. I will sit over there." he pointed at the small table, which was probably the nearest to the counter, making your inner self groan, which was hoping he would just get his drink and leave. But no, this was Satoru and of course he had to pester you even here.
"Alright, take a seat, your drink will be there in a second."
You waited for him to go to his table, but he didn't. No, he just stood there before you, like he was waiting for something.
You went over to the machine and started working it, but he still just stared at you. Making no effort to sit down. Even the sound of the machine pouring milk into the cup didn't fill the awkward silence.
"Is there something else you need?"
You could hear him clearing his throat. "You weren't here the last days."
And you were? Well good, you took the last days off. You took the finished cup of hot sweet delicious browness and placed it on the counter in front of him, while still not looking at him. "No, I wasn't. Is that all?"
He continued to stare at you. You were watching his hands, which were slowly engulfing the hot cup, while he still looked at you. You waited for him to finally go to his seat. He didn't. "Why won't you tell me what I did?"
"Is that all?" you raised your voice, leaning a bit back and turning your head a bit so you could glance at the back rooms. "If so, please let me work in peace."
"It was that Friday night, right?" he was whispering. "What did I do? What did we do?"
You froze. There was something so surreal of him asking what he did wrong. Like that was a reasonable question. Like you were mad for a small forgettable reason, something one could just forget about.
Like someone one could just forget about.
"Is there an issue here?" the head of your manager popped out of the backrooms, staring at the two of you. Well, at least someone listened to what you were saying.
"Not at all." you looked up and smiled at Satoru. "The young man here was just about to sit down at his table."
"Right?"
His face hardened at your words. But with a lot of self control, he also formed a smile, while starting to move. "Yeah, was just having a lovely chat with the barista about the new menu."
Your boss nodded and went back into the back rooms while Satoru finally sat down at the table. Your rapid heart beat, which you hadn't even noticed slowed down by the larger distance between you and him than just the small counter.
But there was still the tension between you, since no one else was in the shop, just you, him and your annoyed boss.
And his gaze was locked onto you while he drank his hot chocolate. Why was it so hard to avoid his piercing eyes? They were like magnets you really wouldn't want to be hung up on because just one look and a panic inside you rose, making you want to lock yourself up in the bathroom. And even though he had his laptop set up before him, he didn't spare it a glance.
Why did Gojo Satoru have such a presence?
You glanced at the clock. 9:36.
Would he stay here for the next 6 hours of your work? No, that would only one insane person do. Right? You dropped your gaze on the cashier register. Why couldn't you just be left alone?
God you needed a break.
A ring of the door made you look up again and you saw a soaked Utahime coming through the door, cursing at her broken Umbrella. Huh, you didn't even notice it had started to rain outside. Even though now, the sound of the water falling against the windows seemed so loud.
"Of course it starts, when I try to get to work..." Utahime muttered while placing her umbrella near the entrance. But her face lit up when she saw you.
"Oh, thank god you are back, it was hell without you! I had to deal with -" But as she looked at you her gaze dropped to Satoru, who was now really interested in his laptop.
"Oh. You are also here Gojo." Her face changed into a frown, while she walked close to the counter. She looked at you with a grimace. "What a surprise."
Satoru just huffed, but kept his gaze on his laptop. "Always a pleasant one, Utahime."
"Utahime?" The voice of your boss was coming from the back rooms, now louder than before, in the tone which meant trouble. "Get here immediately!"
Utahime looked at you and rolled her eyes, making a couple of gestures to illude to throwing up. But her voice was still kept professional. "Coming!"
"Someone is in trouble..." Satoru was grinning to himself while he typed something into his program. Utahime just scoffed while she went to the back rooms door.
"Well, I am not the only one, am I Gojo?"
Oh god, he didn't like that, you could see it in his falling grin. And while Utahime disappeared into the back rooms, you hoped he wouldn't open his mouth. But of course your hopes were for nothing.
He stood up and went to the counter with his now empty cup. Placing it with a bit of force on the counter. "Okay, I get it you know. I fucked up."
"But you could at least give me a chance to talk it out."
Just one look at his oh so deep eyes, made you avert your eyes to his cup. His words making you feel alone, exposed and so so uncomfortable. "Do you want to order more?"
He groaned and his hands found their way into his hair. "Please, drop it and just talk to me! You are making such a big deal -"
"Are you even listening to yourself?" your voice was much quieter now, barely a whisper. "You are already belittling me even though you don't know what my problem is. You already assume it's something small and stupid."
You looked up at his dumbfounded face. He blinked at you. You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief. "This whole time you are talking about making things right and that you need to talk to me, but not once have you thought about giving me space this last week!"
You pointed at the small room around the two of you. "I mean you are even now here, at my workplace!"
His voice was filled with uncertainty now. "Yeah, because you wouldn't talk to me or Shoko -"
"Which should be sign enough to leave me alone, Satoru. How would you say it?" A small scoff left your lips. "I think 'Stop, being so clingy?'"
A silence filled the room. The quiet talking of Utahime and your manager could be heard, but the words to unclear to understand. Satoru held his head low now, almost averting your gaze.
"But-" your voice was shaking and you wanted to hit yourself for it. "If you want so desperately to know what I am mad about, I guess I can freshen up your memory."
Still silent. You guessed you should keep going. "Last Friday, we went to that club, you wanted to show me, you remember?"
"The one where you ditched me for all these other people?"
You looked down at the cashier register and hoped hoped you could hide the vulnerability in your voice. The room was completely silent. The only sound the falling raindrops against the window.
Until he laughed.
The sound of the little chuckles made something inside of you turn, you felt like throwing up. You looked up at him to see a relieved face. A. relieved. One.
"What are you laughing about." it was hard to speak while your teeth were pressed together with more force you had ever used.
Satoru stopped but the little smile remained. Your hand was itching at that smile.
"Sorry, sorry." he cleared his throat. "But I mean we can spend more time together, if you want that? I mean you still mean much more to me than thes-"
"Satoru." you raised your hand signaling him to stop speaking. "Why do you think I was avoiding you?"
"I - I don't really get...?" he was stopping mid his sentence, now looking confused. "You know it's okay if you were jealous, I never meant to make you -"
"JEALOUS?" You gripped the counter so hard, your fingers were turning white. "You think my problem is jealousy?"
He shut his mouth, blinking so clueless like again. It was exhausting.
"No, Satoru, my problem is not that I was jealous you spend time with other people." you gritted out, while typing in his hot chocolate, to distract your hand before you were hitting him. "My problem is that you abandoned me. Alone in a club, I didn't know."
"You left me drunk and clueless alone at a club with no one I knew. Miles away from my apartment. Left me to ask strangers where my ride was, while they pitied me, because the great Gojo Satoru had already left."
You dared to look up into his eyes, hoping he could finally see your mental state. Finally getting why you were so petty. Making such a big deal.
"That's why I am mad."
His look turned wide and blank. You couldn't keep looking at it and broke the eye contact. He didn't move, just stood there before you. But you could see his hands gripping the cup, he was holding.
Just as you saw him open his mouth again, Utahime came back, now with her uniform on. She had a blank smile on her face and a sharp glare on Satoru. "Do you want to order? I can take yours."
He gaped a bit at that but his face quickly turned stoic. "No, thank you. I was just about to pay and leave."
You nodded took the cup he was just holding on. It was warm. "That will be $4.30."
With a bit of force he pressed a $5 dollar bill on the counter and turned to his seat. While grabbing his things, you could see his eyes focusing on the floor. And you knew there was no reason, but you felt bad. Something about this felt like it was your fault. Like you were overreacting. Even though it was just how you felt.
The door shut softly behind him. He disappeared just as fast as he had appeared.
"Thank you." You whispered to Utahime, and she smiled at you gently.
Truth be told, you wouldn't call her a close friend. You just knew her through Shoko, since she was your roommate and Utahime was a couple of times over. Thus you knew her still over Satoru.
But she did help you get this job and was always a pleasant coworker.
"No problem. You want to share it over a cup of coffee?" she winked at you while leaning on the counter.
"Are you working over there?" the voice of your boss echoed through the room. "Get to work!"
Utahime rolled her eyes. She spoke now in a careful whisper. "I guess after work?"
Well, it wouldn't hurt to have a person who wasn't so close with Satoru, would it?
"I would like that."
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Spring 1995
"Come on sweetie, say hello to Satoru."
You held onto the leg of your mother as you stared at this strange boy. There was something ominous about his eyes and his white hair. You had never seen someone like him before. And he had that intimidating look...
"Hi."
Your mother placed a hand on top of your head, laughing a bit as you tightened your grip on her. "Good job. Now go play with him, while we make the cake ready, okay?"
You looked up to her and nodded. She smiled back and gave you a small nod, signaling you to let her leg go. With a heavy heart you let her go into the kitchen with the other woman, who she called Mrs. Gojo.
You looked back at the boy, who was still staring at you with those intimidating eyes. Why did your mother bring you with her again? She said something along the lines, it would be important to fit into the new neighborhood and greet them properly. But right now?
You just stood there awkwardly, trying to understand this strange boy.
He would probably never speak to you, you just hoped the time would pass as quickly as possible. You wanted to eat the cake Mrs. Gojo made as a welcoming gift...
He opened his mouth and closed it again. His eyes now focused onto the ground before he started to speak;
"Do you like Digimon??"
He looked at you with big eyes, which suddenly didn't seem intimidating at all. He fidgeted with his hands, while tilting his head.
"I guess... But I don't know much about it."
His eyes lit up and he smiled so excitedly. "That's not a problem! I can show you!"
And just like that he took your hands, pulling you with him into his room. The room was big, much bigger than your own. There were a couple of posters, of what you guessed were some mons, you didn't know.
He let go off your hand to pull out a big box. And when he opened it, there were a couple of cards inside, which you had never seen before.
"What are these?"
"I will tell you, just sit down." he let himself fall down next to the box, now going through the cards. He took a couple of them out and looked at them each individually.
You carefully sat down, while watching him. His big blue eyes had an excited glint in them and his white hair was shining under the light.
Satoru Gojo was a strange neighbor...
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Fall 2009
"And he just left you alone at this club?" Utahime frowned, while placing her cup of coffee down. "And he forgot about it?"
You shrugged, glancing outside the window. It had stopped to rain in the afternoon. You were free now, since your and Utahime's shift had ended and you were glad Satoru didn't come back.
"I guess he did."
She shook her head and scoffed. "And now he comes to your doorstep-"
"Well actually, it is not mine but the coffee shops-"
"-asking why you are ignoring him? The nerve!"
A loud sip later she continued; "Gojo has to be humbled, my god!"
You couldn't help but smile at her antics. It was kinda sweet how she got so worked up over your business. You were glad she wasn't just on his side. You watched her sip again and sighed. "If it wasn't for that guy who drove me home, who would guess what could've happened?"
She huffed.
"If I'm being honest I would reflect upon the whole friendship. It just shows how self absorbed he is."
You sipped on your bitter coffee.
"Yeah, well he is still Satoru."
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Summer 2003
"Wait for me outside later, okay?"
You smiled as you read the note Satoru had left on your windowsill. There was just such a feeling of excitement every time you read one of his notes, it made your heart race and your face hot.
That was normal right?
"Mum!" you ran into the living room, hoping to catch her before she went to get groceries. "Did you get me the kimono for the festival??"
She way already ready to leave as she sighed at your question. "Yes, sweetie I did. And I also told you that yesterday."
"Can you help me lat-"
"Yes, I will help you get it on, now shoo." she laughed and pointed towards the kitchen. "Young madam, you can worry about the firework after you did the dishes!"
You gasped as you remembered the mountain of dirty dishes you had to clean before the evening and started rushing towards the kitchen. "Already on it Mum!"
You heard her laugh as the door shut behind her leaving you alone. You let the water run into the sink, while organizing the dishes. You took a sponge and started cleaning the plates, which never seemed to end.
Oh, how excited you were for later! It was your first real festival here and Satoru had promised to show you around. And there would be fireworks, now; in summer! Your first own kimono, and your first time visiting a festival you would spend with a friend.
You placed the finished plates next to the sink, taking a towel to dry them. After you finished them, you sat down before the TV and watched what was on.
You didn't even notice how fast the time passed, til you heard the door click from the keys from your mother. You looked at the clock to see it was already 18:30 and shrieked.
"Mum, mum, can you help me now!! Pleaseee?" You jumped out of your seat on the couch and sprinted towards her, looking at her with the eyes you put on when you begged for something.
"Yeah, you can go into my room while I organize the groceries, okay? The kimono is in the closet." she took of her jacket while smiling at you exhausted.
"Okay!" and just like that you turned around and ran into the small room of your mother.
Her closet was always something magical, if it were the high heel or the jewelry you tried to put on while she was away. Your heart was beating fast as you opened it slowly. As you saw it you gasped.
The kimono dress was so pretty. Almost to pretty. You gently took it between your fingers, gasping at the soft fabric. You liked it. You really did. But...
Was it maybe to pretty for you? To fancy?
"Alright, sweetheart." your mother clapped one time as she stepped in, a soft smile on her face. "Let's make you ready, okay?"
"Yeah.." you took a look in the mirror on the cupboard of your mother and tried to imagine, just imagine, what Satoru would say if you were completely overdressed. You tried to shake it off, trying to get as excited as before, but you just couldn't. The excitement gave a bit of space away for the growing doubt and fear.
Maybe you should play sick...
"Alright, firstly try to put the under dress on and i will help you with putting the kimono dress over and so on." she chuckled and took the kimono out of your hands, eyeing it. She placed it onto her bed gently and went up to the door again. "I will go outside while you change. Just call me when you need help."
"Okay."
You sighed as she closed door, eying the under dress you had picked out. But even though you didn't feel comfortable anymore and the ball of doubt in your stomach was eating you up, you still took of the other clothes and slipped into the under dress.
You didn't like how it fit you anymore. Your stomach hurt. Why did it suddenly hurt?
"Everything alright, sweetie?" the voice of your mother was filled with a slight tone of concern.
"Yeah, you can come in." you glanced at the pretty kimono dress on the bed and feared how it would look on you.
"Okaaay-" she stepped back in and smiled as she saw you. "Perfect! Then let me put the kimono dress on."
She helped you into the kimono dress, watched as the ends of the dress fell onto the ground. Focused, she took the ends and checked something before she tightened it.
"What are you doing, mum?"
"Hace to check if it is above your ankles. It shouldn't touch the ground while tightened." she stood up and patted your dress a bit down. "It's supposed to be a bit big up here."
Her concentrated face was a sight to see, while she adjusted how the dress was sitting. She took a step back and gently placed the obi on the rope which was tightening the kimono. After it was sitting she took a step back again and whistled. "Such a pretty lady!"
The dress was comfortable, even if you felt a bit out of place in it.
"Soooo-" your mother turned you to the mirror, making you sit down on the bed. "Now your hair."
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Fall 2009
You threw your bag onto the wardrobe as soon as you stepped into your apartment, groaning from exhaustion.
"Someone's grumpy." a playful laugh rang softly. Shoko poked her head out of the kitchen watching you take your jacket and shoes off.
"You could've warned me that he will visit my workplace, you know?" you grumbled while pushing softly past her to get into kitchen. She huffed with a small smile on her face.
"I would've, if you talked to me."
"God, I need a hot tea..." you shook your head while turning on the kettle. "It's raining cats and dogs outside. And of course it only started again, after I left the shop."
Shoko chuckled a bit, now making her way over to the fridge. "I wanted to make noodles today, do you want to eat with me?"
The kettle rang again, making a smile steal its way onto your face. "If you have enough for two?" You poured yourself a cup of tea, the water changing its color to light red.
Today you chose fruit tea.
"Yeah, don't worry." she opened the fridge and took her orange juice out of it. "Just missed eating and talking with you."
You took a sip out of your tea and sighed at the heavenly warmth flooding you shortly after.
"You're not going to talk about Satoru, are you?" you turned around to her, to see her sigh as she closed the fridge.
"Only if you want to." She took a glass and poured herself orange juice into it. "But I don't need to. I mean, if I'm being honest, it wasn't the nicest thing of me to pressure you to into talking about it."
She sipped a bit, smiling a reminiscing smile. "Was just worried about you and him, since he was constantly texting and venting to me about his worries."
"Oh."
You sat down at the table, cup of tea in your hand and just warmed yourself. Shoko sat down at the opposite side, tilting her head a bit. "Utahime texted me a couple minutes ago. Asked if you made it home safely."
You couldn't help but smile at that. "Greet her from me and you can reassure her that I made it."
Shoko nodded and started typing on her phone. A couple of seconds later she began to smile at her phone and looked up at you. "Hey, Utahime and I wanted to meet up here tomorrow to watch some movies. You wanna join?"
"Yeah, sure." you watched as she typed a new message and hit send.
"Great!" Shoko rested her head on her left hand, while she held her phone in the other. "Oh, and I can give you her number if you want to? She told me that you had a lovely conversation."
You laughed a bit before pulling your phone out. "I would love to have her number." And just after a couple of minutes you had Utahime's contact and a meet up tomorrow.
"Alright." Shoko put her phone away and stood up, making her way over to the stove. "Enough with that, the noodles don't make themselves!"
You watched as she cooked, a comfortable silence making it's way into the room. Something inside you had changed after you had spoken with Utahime. Something inside you was happy. Happy you weren't alone in your frustration and anger towards Satoru. That your feelings were valid.
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Summer 2003
You waited a long time.
You stood alone before the entrance of the festival, waiting for Satoru just like he had asked you to. People were going by, most of them older than you. Some of them stopped to ask you if you were okay, only leaving if you reassured them you were alright.
You felt anxious like never before. Satoru was late.
"Hey, are you okay?" a boy probably in your age stopped by, just like the people before him.
"Yeah, I'm just waiting." you smiled at him, trying to convince him, but he frowned.
"For what?"
"My friend." you muttered, trying to keep your calm. You didn't want to think about what your long wait could mean.
"But I have seen you standing here an hour ago, are you sure your friend is still coming? If they aren't and you keep waiting, you will miss the fun." the boy pouted.
You watched the next people going by, a couple walking by while holding hands. You heard some whispers about the fireworks and you couldn't help it, tears were starting to build up.
You knew it was dumb. But today you had wanted to say it. You had wanted to say it to him during the fireworks. You had wanted that, but he seemed to have forgotten you were waiting for him...
"I've to go, my parents are calling for me." the boy looked behind him, before he turned to you again. "Try to enjoy your stay here, okay?"
Then he just ran away.
Just like that you were standing there alone again. You felt so stupid for getting dressed up, to care so much about this. Why did you care so much?
And even though you didn't feel like it, you followed the boys advice and walked into the festival.
The stands looked fun and they had cool prices. You saw an older guy win a plushy for his friend, shoetly after placing a small kiss on his cheek. You looked away shortly, feeling like a creep for watching them.
And even though it all looked fun, it didn't feel like it when you were walking here alone.
"Hey, do you want a candy apple?" A woman called out behind a stand, smiling at you.
"Oh, no thank you, I don't have that much money." you apologized but she shook her head, waving fo you to get closer. So you did slip through the people in your way to the stand.
"Don't worry, it's on the house." she winked as she gave you one candy apple.
With a bit of hesitation you took it from her. But you weren't hungry, so you just kept it in your hand while continuing to walk.
And after a long walk you finally reached the watch place of the fireworks. It was under a hill, there were already many people, sitting and talking with each other. And after you saw that you couldn't keep the tears in.
You cried hot tears, because you felt so stupid.
While sitting down on a bench on top of the hill, you gripped your candy apple. The ugly sobbing just didn't stop, didn't matter how much you tried to stiffle it. Oh god, why couldn't you stop-
"Hey." His voice startled you. But even though it was loud because of the people you knew it was Satoru who spoke from behind you.
"Please don't cry." he walked up next to you, sitting down next to you onto the bench. But you couldn't look at him. Not when you still had tears in your eyes.
"You are late." your voice was hoarse, god it was so embarrassing.
He was silent for a couple of seconds. Then he spoke;
"I know, I'm sorry. I wanted to get you flowers but-" he stopped and turned to another direction. "The flower shop was closed and I didn't know. So I - Well, I -"
You blinked at him, the last tears flowing down. And then he turned to you and you saw them. Daisies. He hold onto just a few of them. They weren't fresh, most of them already hanging their heads.
But that somehow made them even prettier.
"I wanted to bring you Daisies." he muttered and looked down at them.
You couldn't help but softly laugh, the sobbing dying out. Your cheeks were drying, and your candy apple didn't seem like your last holding point anymore.
"Thank you, Satoru." you whispered with still a hoarse voice. "But why Daisies?"
That's when a loud bang made you look up into the sky. The first firework was raining upon the sky, the red lights illuminated the sky, painting a beautiful picture.
"They make me think of you."
You turned to Satoru and for the first time tonight looked him in the eyes. His beautiful eyes. The fireworks somehow made them even more gorgeous.
"I'm sorry I came late, I really am." he glanced at the candy apple in your hands. "You probably enjoyed the evening more without me."
Another bang made you look up again. The new firework was a yellow one, looking like it was raining gold from the sky.
"Do you want it?" you held the sweet apple in front of him. "I don't really want it."
He blinked at you, his face going from guilt to embarrassment. "You can't do that!" He muttered. "You can't just give me your candy apple."
A purple firework lit up the sky again. You tilted your head as you looked at him. "Why is that? You like sweets."
He wanted to say something, but only seconds after, he did take your candy apple. He handed you the Daisies, which were changing color through the lights. Just like his hair.
He hesitated, but bit into the candy apple, while holding it with one hand. It looked a bit clumsy but also endearing.
You felt tired but something inside you was so happy. Yeah, he was late. So what? He still cared about you. And that was what counted in the end.
You could feel him glance at you as you looked into the sky watching the different colors exploding and painting the dark night. And then you felt it.
His hand engulfing yours.
"You look pretty in that kimono."
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Fall 2009
"Satoru, stop drowning yourself in the shower, I have to shower too!"
Satoru groaned at the voice of his roommate and friend. The cold water was so relaxing, like it was washing a bit of his uneasiness away.
Of the girl he made out with that Friday.
"Chill, I'm almost finished." he called out while going through his wet hair again, while the water rained down.
God, the weekend was awful. You just hadn't left his head, he couldn't believe that he did what you accused him of doing. He didn't remember that Friday precisely. He had probably drank too much. There was only one thing he surely remembered.
There was this guy who had flirted with you while you were working in the coffee shop that Friday. God, the way he looked at you made him want to-
The rest of that day was vague. He remembered that girl that was clinging to him. She wasn't really his type but he was drunk so he had let her kiss him. But he didn't know what else he did. But to just forget you? That didn't sound like himself.
"Satoru!" Suguru called out again.
"I'm coming!" Satoru turned of the shower with a huff. He took his things and dressed himself in sweatpants and a hoodie.
"Someone has to make sure you don't do something stupid." Suguru muttered as Satoru stepped out of the bathroom.
"Well, it's not you, you do equally stupid things." he grinned at his best friend and stepped to the side, to make space for him. "The shower is yours."
"Yeah, yeah, Satoru."
Suguru disappeared into the bathroom, lifting a heavy weight of Satoru's shoulders. He didn't want to keep worry his friend. Yeah, he felt shitty but he didn't have to make it everyone's problem. Oh well, he tried not to.
His room was dirty. He hadn't left it the last three days, only to shower and to get food and water. He had watched every comforting movie, but even those weren't helping, since he just remembered they were always comforting because he had watched them with you. Whose reactions can he watch when he is sitting alone in his room?
Normally Satoru would call himself as a rather put well together person. But when it came to you, he acted irrational, dumb, stupid, overall he was just not thinking. With you the emotions were always stronger, didn't matter if good or bad. And he knew that wasn't healthy.
But he didn't know how to change it.
He didn't want to have bad things between the two of you. He wanted to make it right, to make you look at him again. But he also didn't want to push your boundaries anymore. Even though it was itching in his fingers to get up and go to your work to apologize.
But that wouldn't work, he knew that. So he had to apologize differently.
Ring!
His phone buzzed and for a slight second he hoped it was you. But it wasn't. It was that privat unknown number that kept calling him, even though he ignored it.
And he knew he shouldn't, but his energy was low, so he just answered. "Hello? Who is there?"
There was a bit of rustling on the other side and a gasp could be heard. "Satoru, I gave you my number, didn't I?" It was a female voice he couldn't quite decipher. "Didn't you safe it?"
"I'm sorry, -" he felt a bit uneasy at the tone of the voice. "But who are you?"
There was a second gasp. "You wound me Satoru! After we had such a lovely evening..." Her voice went a bit lower. "Oh, wait... Did you forget me?"
Her giggling after that made him confused. "Anyway, I'm Haoka, silly!"
"Well, I don't know you, so please stop calling me." He was already on the button to end the call as she called out; "Wait! You really don't remember? We were together that Friday, in the 'Crying Angel', that club."
Oh god, he wanted to face-palm himself. Why did he give anyone there his number?
"We shared some glasses of wine and some of the fun stuff the bartender brought..."
Slowly some memories came back. Pictures of him sitting in that uncomfortable couch, but feeling so at peace...
"And then you pulled me onto your lap and kissed me-"
He remembered vaguely how he felt something big and warm against his chest as he had zoned out. He knew he had made out with some girl beforehand, but that he gave her his number...
"Haoka, was it? I'm sorry but I was literally drunk out of my mind, would you stop harassing me?" He heard her be quiet for once. "Thank you."
"Wai-" he stopped the call and sighed.
Well, he had to apologize to you somehow.
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A week later
"L/n!" you flinched as you heard your manager call out to you from the door of the coffee shop. You sighed to yourself while walking to your workplace. It was 8.30am foe God's sake. Couldn't you just walk to work in peace without being told to hurry?
"I'm coming!" you called out, and walked a bit faster. A couple of seconds later you were on the doorstep of the little shop.
"New flowers came for you." your manager shook her head while pointing to the counter. "That's nice and all, but if you can, tell the one who is sending them, that they should send them to your address and not to ours, okay? I'm not always here to get them for you."
There on the counter they were. Fresh, healthy daisies, waiting for you.
"Yeah, sorry." you muttered and disappeared into the changing room. Behind the closed door you wanted to sink into the floor. And you wanted to die from embarrassment, because there was also a bit of giddiness in side your stomach.
Dumb.
After you changed you walked behind the counter, the white flowers were shining up to you. And of course there was a small note attached, just like with the rest. The last days, there was written:
I'm sorry. I know I was an ass.
Is there something I can do? I don't want us to fall apart.
Can we talk?
They were always small notes and you wished you didn't, but you did keep them with you. The last nights you always read them again and wondered if you should call him. Taking your phone and staring at it for half an hour. But in the end you always chickened out.
The coffee shop door opened and Utahime came in, yawning. "Good morning."
"Good morning." you smiled at her as she came up to you. "Slept well?"
She scoffed while taking of her bag from her shoulder and placing it behind the counter next to you. "Don't even start."
She was already turning to go to the changing room, when she stopped in her tracks. Her look hanging on the new flowers in the small vase. She rolled her eyes and scoffed again. "He's still sending them?"
"Yeah." you kept your gaze on the white flowers.
"You know, I don't want to influence you too much. You know I was never a fan of Satoru." Utahime was whispering now, her voice gentle. "But don't let him pressure you with these gifts, okay? If you want to talk to him, do it, but don't forget what he did just because of some pretty flowers."
There was something big in your throat. You tried to swallow it, you really did, but it just didn't succeed. So you spoke with a hoarse voice; "Okay, I won't."
She smiled softly before she turned and went into the changing room.
You knew there was a new note. But you were so scared to look at it. Because even though he wasn't here, it was still a confrontation with Satoru. And you were scared of talking to him right now, because you knew how sentimental you can get when it came to Satoru.
You didn't want to keep thinking about him. Especially at work when you were alone with your thoughts and the coffee. But with these flowers beside you it was impossibile to think of anything or anyone else.
You wanted to know. Wanted to know how he responded to your lack of response.
Carefully, you separated the note from the flower it was attached to. The flower was the only one whose head was slightly hanging. The paper felt like fire in your hands. You heard Utahime's steps towards the counter and you knew she had seen what was in your hands. But she didn't act like she saw, she just turned to the door waiting for a costumer to come in. So you opened it.
You couldn't help it. You've got to know.
Are we still friends? - G. S.
Your eyes were starting to burn, your vision blurring before your eyes. You couldn't, you shouldn't but you did. You started to tear up.
"Hey, you okay?" You heard Utahime's soft whisper next to you. You wanted to answer, you really did, but your mouth didn't let you.
Utahime started to move again as she heard you sob one more time and went into the back rooms. You didn't hear it loud and clearly but you could decipher the words she spoke to your manager.
"L/n isn't feeling well. She-" The door shut completely behind her and you didn't hear more.
You tried to catch your breath, however it seemed impossible. Slowly you took a breath in, a breath out. In. Out.
It was 9 am. You were at work. Everything was okay.
"Hey." You didn't notice Utahime was next to you again, missing her steps towards you. "I spoke to her, you can go."
"What?" you looked up at her in surprise.
She sighed. "I hate to say it, but it won't get better if you don't talk it out with him. You don't have to do it today, but you are obviously not in the right state to sit here next to these flowers for hours, or are you?"
You slightly shook your head head. She smiled softly. "Then get going."
For a second you just blankly stared at her. But then it hit you. You could leave. Should leave. And today you would do it. You would talk to him and speak your whole mind. Yeah, you would tell him how you felt after the last confusing years, where he treated you like the sun one second and like shit the next. Not tomorrow. Today.
"Thank you." you hurried to the changing room, poking your head out before closing it. "Thank you!"
You heard her laugh, while you hastly changed. The apron was off in seconds, you had to stop and take a breath, before you opened the door again.
You hurried to take your bag and as you arrived back at the counter, your gaze fell onto the flowers on the counter. It was dumb. But you took them out of the vase and held them dearly to your heart.
"Get well soon." Utahime winked at you as you stood at the door. You gulped, but smiled back.
"I'll try.
-------> At home
The door was shut fastly behind you, you hurried to the kitchen to get the flowers a small cup as a vase. There was a small blue one, which was also not too small, so you took it. Filled it with water, as your eyes fell onto a note on the fridge.
Will be away for the whole day, medicine exam is eating me up - Shoko
Oh. Shoko was with her study group. Medicine was a hard major. But to be honest right now you didn't really think much about it. The only thing in your mind was the phone in your bag.
You placed the little cup-vase onto the kitchen table. The daisies were smiling at you, just like they were six years ago.
You wanted to smile back but it didn't feel like the time for that.
Your hand took your phone out of your bag. You watched as you fiddled with it. Wondering if maybe you should do it tomorrow, since you were pretty exhausted-
No. Today.
Your fingers were shaking as you typed his number. Hesitating before the dialing button. But in the end you did press it.
Your anxiety rose by thousands as you heard the dialing tone. And by the third time it rang you wanted to hang up, until -
"Hello?"
His voice was a bit hesitant and quiet. You were shaking, wondering why you called him, without thinking what words precisely to say, why did you just call him without any plan-
"Stop sending flowers to my workplace." your voice was slightly shaking, just like your hands. "My manager can't keep picking them up."
"Oh." it was very quiet on the other side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you trouble with them."
A silence made it's way into the call. You heard him breath and you were sure he heard your anxious breathing too. God, this whole idea was a mess.
"Hey." he spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it? Are you ready to talk about it?"
...
"Yeah, I'm ready." your voice was a whisper.
The second silence followed, this one even a bit more tense.
"Can I come over, or is that to much?"
Your breath hitched, suddenly this seemed so real. You were stupid for it but you did miss him. You wanted to see him.
"It's okay." you muttered and heard a relieved sigh from him.
"Good, because I am almost there."
And just like that he hung up. Leaving you standing dumbfounded in your kitchen, the realization slowly settling. Wait, he meant immediately? You didn't think he would be already on his way, you still didn't know what to say!
God, you needed a tea.
Today was a green tea day. You worked your kettle, trying to keep your cool. But it was near impossible. How could you remain calm, when Satoru was coming over? Satoru, who was usual never wanting to have a serious talk?
Ring
You looked at your kettle, only to realize it had been the doorbell. Okay. It was time.
You opened the door of your apartment, to see a soaked Satoru standing before you, breathing heavy.
"Sorry for the rush, I didn't want to intimidate you." he muttered while his eyes were locked onto the ground. "I just had to see you in person."
"It's alright." Well, he still intimidated you, but in the end you wanted to see him in person too. At least you think you did, when you look at his wet, but still gorgeous hair. At his blue ocean like eyes. It was just Satoru.
You let him into your apartment, hurrying to your kettle, who was now ringing too. You heard him shut the door, as you poured yourself a cup of tea, watching as the water turned green.
His steps echoed through the apartment, until he stood there, in the doorframe of the kitchen. His eyes now locked onto you as you glanced at him. You took your tea cup and sat down at the table. Gesturing with your hand that he should sit down too. He did.
You saw him gulp, but he kept quiet. You took a long sip.
"So?"
His eyes widened a bit. Then he cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize to you. Like, really apologize. I know I messed up."
You could see his hands fidgeting but he still kept his eyes on you.
"I don't remember what I was thinking. And I mean that literally, I drank so much that I didn't remember even going to this club." he shook his head. "Not that that excuses anything. My first mistake was drinking carelessly. And I'm so-"
"Why did you?" you stopped him. He tilted his head a bit as you looked at him. "You treated me horrible that evening. You left me alone at the entrance of that club, drank your brain away and then disappeared. Why did you leave me alone at the entrance, why did you drink so much?"
His body tensed up and you knew you struck a nerve.
"And you know that's not the first time." you muttered. "It's like three years ago, when you suddenly made that shift to treat me horrible and then dropped me as a friend."
Silence made itself into the room.
"And then you come back to apologize and want everything to go back as it were, but it doesn't." you whispered. "I can pretend that it does, but it doesn't. Because I just don't feel appreciated as a person. For you I'm always-" Your voice broke a bit.
"For you I'm always just the safe backup. Because I always forgive you and you know it."
"That's not true." Satoru tried to grab your hands on the table, but you pulled them away. Any form of contact right now would kill you.
"Then what is it, Satoru? It feels like you never told me."
His eyes faced the table, now looking like he was sick. His posture was stiff as he fidgeted more with his fingers.
"I'm an idiot, you know?" he was mumbling. "A coward and a selfish idiot."
"What are you talking about?" you gripped onto your warm teacup. He looked at your hands, a nervous chuckle escaping him.
"It's just -" he stopped. While looking at you he shook his head and abruptly stood up. Speaking with his hands on his face, his voice a bit muffled but still understandable. "I want you to know that everything I will say is not me trying to justify my behavior, okay? I just - I own you an honest explanation."
You looked at him, as he seemed to hide himself behind his hands. You were scared. Scared of what he will say. But you knew you also wanted and needed to know. "Alright, then tell me Satoru."
It's silent again, the only thing you heard was the sound of a neighbor's key falling outside of the Appartement. Satoru was messing with his hair, while he avoided to look at you. You could see the gear wheels in his head working, trying to make out what to say. He took a sharpy breath.
"Every time I notice that we are growing more together or become closer, it's just so, -" he shook his head. "It's so scary. Because I notice how I start to feel and act and I -, well I get cold feet and try to push you away. Because I know, that it's stupid for me to feel how I feel, and I don't want to lose our friendship and-"
"Wait, wait, wait." you raised your hand. "You're pushing me away because you don't want to lose our friendship?"
He groaned. "It's stupid I know and in the last years I have become better, but it's just-, god, every time I see someone flirting with you and you look so happy, my emotions become so big and I get angry with everything."
"Satoru what do you mean? Why would you - I don't understand." now it was your turn to hide your head behind your hands.
"That Friday, before we went to that club together. I have seen you with that guy, who bought you a drink at your workplace. And you laughed so much, I just felt so shitty because I realized-" his voice is shaking. "I realized that I still have feelings for you."
The world seemed to stop spinning. You raised your head in slow motion and looked at him. His blue eyes were locked on you, showing vulnerability. You couldn't help but just stare at him.
"And I got scared!" his voice got a bit louder as he started pacing down the kitchen. "Because I have been in the friend zone my entire life and I thought I could live with that. But everything was so much, I saw red and just wanted to hide. I wanted to snap out of that feeling so I left you standing at the entrance."
He stopped pacing, his back now turned to you. "It's the same every time. I want to keep our friendship, but push you so far away that we become strangers."
"You really are an idiot."
You didn't notice until you spoke, that you were crying. Ugly sobbing filled the room, you felt like suffocating. "Not once did you ask yourself how I felt. You just wanted to keep yourself safe, didn't you?"
You could see his back tensing. You shook your head. "You made me feel like I was the friend you only kept in touch with, because our parents know each other. You made me feel so dumb for wanting to spend time with you. That's not how you treat someone you have feelings for!
You could have just told me."
He scoffed, now turning around. "Would we be still be friends if I did? "
"No."
You looked at the green tea in your cup. "We would be more."
You could hear his breath hitch. And in seconds he was standing in front of the table again. You felt his gaze on you. "What do you mean?"
You laughed while tears were streaming down your cheeks. "Satoru it was so obvious for everyone else. Why do you think I have forgiven you every time, no matter what you did?
I have feelings for you."
The silence came back. And with a silent sigh he sat down before you again, hwad in his hands again. "Why did you never tell me?"
"Why did you never tell me? Because I was scared of ruining our friendship. And you always seemed to have zero feelings for me that we're not platonic." you sobbed again, making him flinch. You saw his hand twitch, but this time he didn't move it.
"Please, don't cry." he was whispering with such care in his voice you wanted to cry harder. "Not over my stupidity."
A small try of a laugh escaped you. "I'm always crying over your stupidity, Satoru." you shook your head. "But also mine. I could have confessed too, but I didn't because I was scared. I'm sorry."
He moved a bit closer, his chair now as near as possible. "Don't apologize -"
"But I am sorry. Because now I don't know how to feel and..." you stopped, trying to catch your breath. "I want to forgive you, but I'm just so scared and -"
That's when Satoru stood up again. You watched through your blurry vision how he made his way to you, going around the table. There he stood looking at you with something so big, something so mighty in his eyes.
Carefully his hands made it's way next to your face, drying your tears and caressing your face.
"I know that I will do everything to deserve your forgiveness. No pushing away, no riddles."
He wiped your hair out of the way and placed a soft kiss onto your forehead.
"But I don't think I want to be friends anymore."
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"I thought I should stop sending them." Satoru had his signature grin on his face, while looking at the daisies on the table. "But you do like them!"
"I didn't say you should stop sending them, I said you should stop sending them to my workplace." you kept your gaze on the white flowers in front of you, even though you felt him staring at you. "And I didn't want you to think that you could buy my forgiveness."
"Oh, I never thought that! I just wanted to you to know that I thought of you." his close body raised a hand to take on of the daisies. "You remember that day at the festival?"
"Of course I do." you snorted. "I thought you were stupid for bringing daisies and claiming that they remind you of me, when they are white flowers."
He gasped dramatically. "Stupid? That was my heart laid out in front of you!"
You couldn't help but laugh at his playful 'hurt' face. "Then why do they remind you of me?"
"You were always new beginning."
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Taglist:
@lady-of-blossoms @mistygrovesarchive @hauntedcatnerd3 @ginginha
@watermelonslut @genxnarumi @lun4rchive @dekusdante
@eclecticmentalitypersona @ackermendick @luciiferslover @hyunsuks-beanie
@ri-sa20 @mew4-ever18 @cgmajor @gojojjknanami
@haikyuusimpsblog @starlightglimmersworld @sadmonke
@sheep-infog @ssetsuka
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shouyuus · 24 days ago
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VI FROM ARCANE WITH PILLOWPRINCESS READER?!?! PLEASEEE ILL TAKE ANYTHING DUDEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏
send me vi thirsts and i'll give u my hand in marriage
yes bc i feel like she'd love this lowkey midkey AND highkey bc vi's love language is def like 50/50 acts of service and physical touch and she'd love the fact that you trust her so much w/ ur pleasure, the fact that she gets to have this control, and you're always so obedient for her, always asks for permission -- the first time she'd gotten you to the edge and you'd sunk your fingers into her hair, thrashing beneath her, but still forcing yourself to look up at her with your big, watery eyes, asking --
"p-please v-vi -- can -- can i?"
she knew that she was done for like done for, the way she knew if she said no, you'd listen. the thought had made her head feel woozy, so much so that her fingers had almost paused inside you, and you'd keened, thighs squeezing around her wrist bc you were so, so close.
"holy shit -- yeah, sweetness -- fuck, yeah, come for me --"
and it's not like she doesn't know how much you like it when she manhandles you a bit; she likes it too, she likes it alot actually, how she can jerk you down the length of the bed, press your knees up all the way to your shoulders, wrap her fingers around your neck, or just hold you down and kiss you till you're shaking apart beneath her.
she likes too that all she has to do is say the word, and you'd drop to your knees for her, pliant and willing, your lips falling open for her fingers or her cunt, how you'd make these happy little mewling noises when buried between her legs, so long as she got a hand on your head, a thumb rubbing your cheek.
"do you... do you ever wish i'd do more... stuff?" you ask one day, crinkling your nose, frowning absently down at vi's hair as you braid the longer bits into a single plait, only to tug it loose and do it all over again.
vi glances over her shoulder, "more... stuff?"
"yeah like... be more active when we're, y'know --"
vi laughs, tugging you into her lap, "if you're asking if i'm happy with our sex life, sweetness, the answer is yes, very."
you sigh, nodding even as you tuck your nose into her curve of her neck.
"okay. just asking."
she runs her thumbs against your skin, drawing circles into your waist.
"why? are you happy with it?"
you nod so hard that you almost topple out of her arms, but she catches you, grinning. "yeah! of course i am!"
"then, what's the problem, princess?"
"nothing! just..."
"c'mon pretty, spit it out," she takes your chin between a thumb and forefinger, giving your face a tiny shake. your breath hitches; satisfaction unfurls in vi's chest.
"i saw something online about -- how being too passive isn't a good thing and --"
"ooookay, i'm gonna cut you off right there --" she hoists you up, twisting you around so you're straddling her lap, your face now parallel to hers. she loves the way you're so easy to read, loves that you don't hide your attraction to her, how all she has to do is twitch her lips and you're already gasping.
"open your mouth for me, pretty girl," she says, and you do, your mouth dropping open as she swipes a thumb along your bottom lip before pushing it forward till it's resting on your tongue. you whine softly, hips shifting, but you hold still till she nods her head, "go on, suck."
you close your lips immediately, your tongue laving at the pad of her thumb. she lets out a clipped groan, watching. a few seconds later, she pulls it out with a light pop, grinning as she tracks the slick finger down your chin, tracing up the line of your jaw till she's got her hand cupping the back of your neck.
"that feel very passive to you?"
your lashes flutter, confusion gathering in your eyes before you lick your lips, blush, and give your head a tiny shake. she smiles.
"good answer. so? are we good now, princess?"
"yeah. we are."
"good!" she gives you a quick kiss, patting your hip, "what'dyou want for dinner? i'm thinkin'... it's been a while since we've been to jericho's."
you pout, "what about that other place we've been talking about?"
"what on the wharfside docks?"
"yeah...?"
vi rolls her eyes, even as she sits up and motions for you to get up. you jump up with a bright smile. she sighs, folding her arms.
"go get dressed. ugh, passive -- dunno what you were thinkin' when you asked me that princess."
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judyvan · 3 months ago
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No Hands - Chris Sturniolo Fanfic
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。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★。・:*:・゚☆。。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★。・:*:・゚☆
Summary: After picking on Chris for being an extremely touchy person, the two of you make a bet. Will Chris be able to control himself long enough to win?
Warnings: MDNI/ smut/ chrisxfem!reader/ bf!chris/ unprotected p n v (use a fucking rubber)/ oral (fem receiving)/ touchy! chris x needy! reader/ competitive! chris/ use of "you"/couldn't tell ya how many words
A/N: Time for a Chris fanfic! I am still new to writing, so bear with me. The song loosely relates to the fic. Interactions are appreciated! Pls don't steal my shit. Thx!💋
。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★。・:*:・゚☆。。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★。・:*:・゚☆
"Keep your filthy fucking paws off of me," Nick says pushing his brother, Chris, away from him. Chris had wrapped his arm around Nick's shoulders as the two of them spoke.
Your boyfriend Chris is probably the most physically affectionate person that you know. He is always eager to touch those he cares about the most. Whenever it comes to you, Chris loses all self-control. He needs to be touching you in some way at all times; like he'll go insane without the feeling of your body against his in some way, shape, or form.
"You have got to be the touchiest motherfucker that I know, seriously," Nick continues, dusting the remanence of Chris' hands off of his shoulders.
"Shut up," Chris chuckles, pushing Nick backwards.
Nick looks up shocked. His eyes move back and forth from yours and Matt's, Nick and Chris' other brother. You and Matt begin to laugh uncontrollably.
"Please tell me you two fucking see this. I mean this is absurd! Even when I ask him not to touch me, he touches me. It's crazy!" Nick states completely dumbfounded.
Chris is laughing along with you and Matt. He begins to walk towards Matt, reaching out to grab his arm as he loses control of his body.
"Don't bring that shit over here," Matt says out of breath, wiping the tears from his eyes, failing to reel himself in.
Chris looks at you through squinted eyes. You simply open your arms as he walks towards you. He knew that you wouldn't turn down his touch. Chris stands in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head in the crook of your neck, laughing profusely into your skin.
"Can we please talk about this?!" Nick begins, still completely shocked. "I have never seen anything like this. Like he actually needs to be studied. He has always been "touchy feely", but ever since he got a girlfriend, it has multiplied by a gabillion." The room is still filled with the laughter of Chris and Matt, yours no longer producing noise.
"I mean seriously, I feel so bad for you. I can guarantee that you never get a fucking second to just breathe!" Nick exclaims.
You somehow manage to catch your breath and gain composure.
"It doesn't bother me. I've gotten used to it," you reply, rubbing your hand up and down Chris' back, attempting to calm him down.
Nick releases a scoff, letting you know that he doesn't believe you.
"Anyways, back to what I was saying," Nick begins shaking his head. He's looking at you, the only one stable enough to understand him. "Me and Matt are going to the store; do you want us to get you guys anything; besides some fucking giggle juice?"
"No, I think that's all we need," you reply, letting out a small laugh. Your whole body is now shaking at the intensity of Chris' reaction to Nick's last statement.
"Alright, we will be back in a few hours," Nick says, practically dragging Matt out of the door, him and Chris continuing to crack up.
The door shuts and Chris is eventually able to control himself. He pulls his head out of your neck and looks in your eyes, a huge grin spread across his face.
"Let's go to my room and find something to do until they get back," Chris says, his fingers running up and down your sides. You meet his lips with a short peck.
"I've got something in mind," you say smirking at him.
The two of you walk to Chris' room, holding hands of course. You have been trying to convince Chris to watch all of your favorite movies and now is the perfect time to start. Chris turns on the movie, "Five Feet Apart," and the two of you lay in his bed. As the film goes on, you can't help but think about what Nick was saying earlier. You are now very observant of how often Chris asks for a kiss or squeezes you tighter. When he gets up out of bed to grab a drink, you begin to laugh out loud at your own thoughts. Chris comes back into the room as you're laughing uncontrollably, trying to think of any moment he has spent any amount of time without physical contact.
"What the fuck is so funny?" Chris asks, taking a sip of his Pepsi as he stands in his doorway.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed to face your boyfriend.
"I was just thinking about what Nick was saying. I genuinely cannot think of a time that you went 5 minutes without touching me," you say.
Chris smirks and shakes his head. He begins to walk closer to you.
"Do you really think that I touch you a lot?" he asks, taking another drink.
"What do you mean think? You can't keep your hands off of me," you let out a small laugh.
"Yes, I can," Chris states in a cocky manner. "You touch me just as much as I touch you." He sits his drink down and gives you a smug look, stepping closer to you.
"Fine then. Let's make a deal. Until Nick and Matt get back, we have to keep our hands to ourselves. You can't touch me, and I won't touch you," you flick your brow up as you propose the idea to Chris.
"And why would I do that?" he says, laughing at your playfulness.
“To prove a point.”
Chris looks around the room for a second, thinking about what you said.
“How about we make this a little bit harder, since Nick and Matt aren't here,” he says, an arrogant look on his face. Chris bends down to whisper in your ear. “How about I do some things that make it harder for both of us to keep our hands off of each other.”
He then places an open-mouthed kiss to the spot right behind your ear. He tugs lightly on the bottom of your earlobe before pulling away. The combination of his warm breath, wet kiss, and teeth pulling on your skin, sends a feeling of arousal throughout your body. Chris looks at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly able to see what he's doing to you.
"And why would I that?" you say, mocking him. Chris' eyes trail up and down your body, not missing a single curve.
"If I win, I get to touch you anywhere I want, wherever I want, anytime I want for a week, and you don't get to say shit to me about it." Chris runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he finishes his sentence. Just the thought of having any part of you at his fingertips whenever he pleased made him grow hard.
"And if I win," you start, noticing the tent forming at the crotch of his pants, " I get to wear as little as I want, whenever I want, and you can look all you want, but you can't touch, for a week." You smile up at Chris, seeing him picture you in the smallest article of clothing in his head.
"I think you've got yourself a deal," Chris says, moving even closer to you.
You lift off of the bed slightly, sliding your hands underneath of your ass, pressing them into the bed. Chris places his hands on the bed, one on either side of your hips. Your lips connect almost immediately, the two of you aching to touch now that you can't. The kiss is deep and passionate, the both of you long for more. You remove your hands from underneath you, pulling off the shirt and pants you're wearing. Chris' lips leave yours and meet your collarbone without hesitation. His hungry kisses across your skin deepen your desire for him to touch you. Chris has seen you in a bra and underwear plenty of times. Removing your clothes doesn't seem to faze him much.
"This is too easy," you say, a smile spreading across your face. Your hands reach behind your back and unbuckle your bra. You drop it on the floor, scoot away from Chris, and lay down on the bed.
Chris stands up completely. His eyes roam over your entire body, lingering on your breasts. Lacking a good poker face, Chris' expression confirmed that you just made things 10 times harder for him, in multiple different ways. He tugs at his bottom lip as he soaks in the amount of skin you have exposed.
"That's not fair," he laughs, his eyes touching every part of your figure that his hands should be feeling.
Chris removes all of his clothes, only leaving his boxers. Your eyes trail over his body. Your eyes widen when you see the bulge in his underwear. A small chuckle escapes Chris' lips at your face. His eyes never leave yours as he removes his underwear seductively, his entire body now on display.
"Now we're even," he says. Chris moves across the room and climbs on top of you, careful to keep both of his hands on the bed.
The air chills your uncovered body. Chris' lips only momentarily heating the areas that they touch. It isn't enough. You need his hands on you. Messy kisses are placed all around your frame as he travels down you. After reaching the waist band of your underwear, Chris moves directly to your inner thighs, devouring them. Your hips begin to buck upwards, wanting his mouth on the place covered by soaked fabric.
"Take them off," Chris says placing a single gentle peck to the front of your underwear.
You shake your head while biting your lip. You earnestly wanted his hands on you and refused to help him out any longer.
"You do it," you said, your heart racing.
"I'm not losing this bet," he responds placing a gentle kiss to either side of your pelvic bone. Suddenly, his tongue slides under the left side wing of your underwear. He pinches the material between his teeth and slides one side of your underwear down to your thigh. He slowly moves to the right side of your body and performs the same motion. His intention is to draw this process out as long as he can, hoping you'll cave. Tongue, bite, pull, switch. Tongue, bite, pull, switch. As soon as one side reaches your ankle, you begin to shake them off yourself, flinging them into the floor.
"Someone's impatient," Chris smiles. He knows you won't last much longer.
His head dives between your legs, his tongue licking up the need that is dripping from you. You let out a whimper, gripping onto the bed sheets, miserably trying to keep your hands busy. Chris' tongue splits you in half as his nose applies pressure to your clit. He begins to speed up his motion, his tongue now forming small circles around your most sensitive area. Your legs begin to squeeze inward, Chris' head between them acting as a magnet. You can't help but squirm, the intense feeling of pleasure taking over your body. All of your movement is making it difficult for Chris. He is unable hold your legs down, forcing them to stay put.
"If you don't stop moving, I'm going to have to stop," he says, momentarily pulling his lips off of you.
Your moans get louder as Chris proceeds to eat you out. Your legs begin to shake as you attempt to keep from moving, not wanting him to quit. His tongue slips inside of your opening. Your back arches off of the bed. He begins to eat you as sloppily as he can, wanting more than just his tongue to be inside of you. Your toes start to curl. He begins to shake his head back and forth, his tongue flicking in all directions, only stopping to suck on your ball of nerves. You cling onto the sheets for dear life. You're starting to get close. Don't do it. Your hands lose their hold on the bedsheets and find themselves in Chris' hair as you practically levitate off of the bed.
"Oh fuck!" you scream, on the edge of release.
Chris pulls away from you. You did touch him after all. Suddenly his eyes meet yours from in between your legs. His thumb brushes over his lips, gathering all of your remnants before sucking them off of his skin.
"I win," he says with a cocky smirk.
In a swift motion, Chris grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder, plunging himself inside of you, burying his dick as deep in your walls as possible. As he thrusts in and out of you frantically, his hands touch every part of your body, making up for lost time. The two of you moan loudly at the feeling of him touching you inside and out. It doesn't take long before your stomach clenches and you reach your orgasm, Chris' warm cum coating your insides at the same time. As the two of you ride out your high, your hands continue to feel every part of each other. Chris slumps on top of you, wrapping his arms around you, and burying his face in your chest. Your arms embrace him, pulling him closer. After a few moments of relishing the feeling of you both on top of one another, Chris leaves your body to grab a towel and pull on his clothes. As he cleans you up, he makes sure to touch you in every way he can. He throws the towel on the floor and grabs your clothes, insisting on dressing you as well. He starts with your underwear and pants, wanting to see you topless as long as possible. Before putting your bra back on, he takes your breasts in both of his hands and squeezes, kissing you tenderly.
"You better get used to that," he says, pulling away from your mouth and sliding your bra on. "I've got a whole 7 days to do that whenever I want."
For the next week, Chris took as much advantage of his prize as possible. When meeting up with his family he would hug you as long and hard as he could. When around his brothers at home, he would palm your ass with both hands, squeezing roughly and kissing you with passion. Even when hanging out in public settings with your friend group, you would find at least one of his hands wandering from your thigh and meeting the sweet spot in between your legs.
。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★。・:*:・゚☆。。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★。・:*:・゚☆
To see how Chris takes advantage of him reward in more detail, click here to read: 7 Days (“No Hands” Extension)
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obsessivevoidkitten · 3 months ago
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Your Knight in Shining Armor
Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Whump Yandere Male Royal x Male Reader AND (separately) Yandere Male Dragon Hybrid x Male Reader CW: Painful noncon, blowjobs, minor physical abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, internalized homophobia, bullying, kidnapping, minor character death, implied minor character murder, non-human genitalia, emotional trauma, angst, hurt with little comfort, humiliation, degradation, shame, a lot of crying, general yandere behavior, possessive yandere, whump, Dead Dove: DO NOT EAT Word Count: 3.5k (I decided to make my own list of kinks/scenarios for kinktober. I am only posting every other day and not everything is a full fic, though there are several full fics in the mix. This has been a labor of love for you my beautiful readers, please enjoy!)
The Prince of Thornhollow, Percival, was pampered and spoiled by his royal upbringing. He seemed to have been almost blessed. Not just by birth but also in ability. In contests with his knights, he was always the victor, and in his hunts, he had always been successful. The skill he possessed only served to grow his sense of superiority.
He also delighted in cruelty. All of this was unleashed upon castle servants. Since you were his personal servant, you suffered the most abuse by far. The prince tripped you, made fun of you, ridiculed you for the smallest things, and smacked you around whenever he was upset.
A few times he forced you to jerk him off and look at him while you licked the cum from his cock. He loved the humiliation in your eyes.
"You should be thanking me for letting you taste the royal seed with your peasant mouth."
It wasn't a suggestion. You had to thank him. He berated you afterward for being a girl and liking dick. It was an open secret that you fancied other men, and it was a favorite subject for Percival to pick at.
Sadly his sexual abuse didn’t end there. One time, when he was drunk on wine and you had been cleaning his chambers, he suddenly pinned you against the wall and kissed you roughly on the mouth. Sloppy and uncoordinated, you could taste the wine.
You flinched from his touch, sure that it was a cruel joke. And even if it wasn't your first kiss, you should have been from someone you loved, not someone you feared.
Percival grabbed your wrists to stop your squirming.
"Stop fighting, slut."
His words were harsh but his voice had a certain softness that you were not accustomed to from him. It was obviously the alcohol.
"You're gay, I'm an attractive man, I know you want this."
You yelped as he spun you around and grinded against your ass. You had no choice but to comply with his every whim... he was royalty. He nuzzled your neck and cooed into your ear.
"You're shaking so much, I bet your trembles will feel so good from inside you."
Percival pulled your pants down, followed by his. He took a gob of precum from his cock and massaged it into your hole.
"I bet you can't believe your luck, having the prince do this to you."
He slid a finger into you, followed by another. You wept silently as he squirmed inside your ass to stretch you out.
"I'm not a gay freak like you, this is just your reward for being such a good servant all these years. You deserve it."
The prince sucked and kissed your neck as he slowly pierced you with his cock.
You gasped for breath as the pain made you speechless. You would have fallen to the ground had Percival not been propping you up with his strong hands. There was a resounding smack as his nuts hit your ass with every thrust. You tried to squirm free, instinct overriding the attempt to obey a superior, but Percival wrapped his arms around you tightly.
"Just try to relax. You'll love it. I know you'll love my cock."
He nibbled on your ear and trailed kisses down your neck.
"Stop crying, you're being really ungrateful... it's starting to annoy me..."
He began going at a crueler pace in his frustration. He felt between your legs and you were barely even hard. He thought you'd love this, there were prevalent rumors that several knights had used you as a convenient cumdump and he was obviously better than they were. Of course, you were a virgin, and the prince was robbing you of your first time in the most brutal fashion.
After filling you with his cum he let you slump to the floor as he sneered.
He was still drunk, but his orgasm brought a bit of clarity, letting his elitism and internalized homophobia bubble back to the surface where it mingled with his disappointment and insecurity at the fact that sex with him wasn't enjoyable for you.
He was too ignorant to know that much better lube and stretching needed to be used while you were more relaxed. Percival wiped himself off with a rag and then threw it at you with a look of disgust.
"Clean yourself up, then get the hell out and don't let anyone know, or I'll cut out your tongue."
You wiped the cum and blood from you quickly and staggered to your feet before hobbling away while sniffling. He didn't do anything like that again, not even force you to suck him, but he did treat you worse for weeks.
His disposition finally went back to his normal level of disdain when he finally got his new set of enchanted armor. It was white and black, with silver and gold filigree. It became your most important set of tasks, fetching, polishing, and putting away his armor as well as helping him into it. Though even when it was perfectly polished, it was not unheard of for you to get a minor thrashing at the hands of the prince.
The life you had was pretty miserable. Even though the prince acted as a tyrant to his personal servant, you, he protected his and the crown’s image. It helped that the royal family's policies and skills at governing resulted in a fairly content lower class. Percival, especially, was beloved by many. The handsome prince with his blood red hair and muscular physique. He was quite charming and had drawn the affection of many noble ladies. This meant you couldn't find an escape or even speak badly about the prince because you would surely be ratted out.
So you went about tending to the prince as best you could and just hoping that he wasn't in a foul mood at any given time. But the prince wasn't the only thing you had to worry about.
There was a dragon-man hybrid, Rinvir, that had been attracted by a certain shiny gleam. He found that it was the valuable armor of the prince.
Of course, it may be good to have someone tend to the armor sometimes. Maybe they could polish other treasures for him. When he watched you shine the armor, he couldn't help but think how nice it would be to have your delicate human hands tend to his "sword" too. And maybe how good it would feel "sheathed" inside of you.
Rinvir wouldn't just mate with a human for such a flimsy reason, so he stalked you and the prince. Whenever he was hunting with you as his assistant, whenever you were in the training fields helping him put on his armor, whenever you were alone and tending to your outdoor duties.
He hated the prince but fell deeply in love with you. You were so kind and soft-spoken, so diligent with your work no matter what the task.
Rinvir wanted you even more than the immensely valuable armor. He still wanted the armor in his hoard, though, too. It would spite the prince nicely.
The dragon-man waited until a lovely clear day when you were just about to help Percival into his armor. He was screaming at you to hurry up as you were struggling with its immense weight. Rinvir swooped down and snatched you right up, armor and all. A flash of shiny blue scales was all the prince saw before you were gone. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before collecting himself.
"But... that one was... mine..."
He had to have yo-, no, his... armor back. It was so valuable and had been forged partly by magical means. Luckily, his father, the king, agreed. It was an insult to their rule to let such a slight go unpunished.
Dragon-men were strong, but the prince had a good number under his command, his own talents, and the magic of the court wizard backing him up. He'd have his precious peasant back by any means! And this time, he'd not let silly shit like fear of rumors and homophobia stop him from holding you close in bed while rearranging your guts.
Oh, uh... and he'd have his fancy enchanted armor back... that was what he was really worried about... the armor... yeah...
Meanwhile, at the formerly abandoned lakeside temple that Rinvir called home, you were crying. A giant man with shaggy unkempt hair, huge blue wings, horns, and scales up and down his arms and legs had just made off with you. Surely he would eat you or kill you for sport.
"Shhh, calm down, delicate thing."
He took you to his underground treasure room and put the armor on a stand then gave his undivided attention to you.
"You're my new favorite treasure!"
He nuzzled into your neck and licked your cheek, causing you to shudder.
"I-I'm not a treasure... j-just take me back home!"
He laughed. That wasn't happening.
"And go back to that abusive royal? Not a chance. You're gonna be my mate."
At first, you were borderline hostile. Then you were extremely reluctant. But as the days and weeks turned into months, you became more and more amicable to your self-appointed boyfriend. Rinvir did so much for you. He set up a little garden so you could enjoy outside time because you always looked at peace during your brief moments in the palace gardens.
He caught food for you. Though you did have to prepare it, he was no chef. But you had to prepare fresh meat on the prince's hunts all the time. But now you got to cook it how you preferred and Rinvir left you the best bits.
When you were sore, he gave the best massages.
When you slept, he held you tight to provide warmth.
When it came to sex Rinvir was a patient and gentle lover. So far, you had only pleased him with your mouth and hands, and he had returned the favor. His cock was thick and slimy but you actually enjoyed how it felt in your hands and the taste wasn’t bad either. He never pressured you into anything and was content with letting you explore what you liked at your own pace.
He really was your savior. Your dragon in shining scales.
It had been three months. Three agonizing months without his manservant. His beloved. His father had ordered him to give up the search because at this point, it was getting costly, and the prince had matters of state that needed attending. They could always make new armor and still investigate in smaller numbers if there were solid leads about the dragon.
That wasn't acceptable to Percival. His servant was probably dead or, at the very least, being tortured by a beast. It had been so long, and there were no guarantees that you were still alive. Percival had to have closure and revenge. Even if you were alive, he'd need revenge for having to endure without you, and you had surely missed him. If you were still hanging on you probably felt abandoned.
His father wouldn't budge. And when, in desperation, Percival had told him he valued and needed your friendship, his father had laughed him out of the throne room.
Unfortunately for you, his father came down with a sudden case of "died in the middle of the night." It was assumed he had succumbed to his advanced age, though that wasn’t the case.
King Percival redoubled the efforts into finding that thief of a dragon. It took an extra month after his ascension to the throne, but he had discovered rumors of a shimmering blue dragon-man. Percival spared no expense. Took no chances. He surrounded the entire area with well over 100 troops and had hired an additional two mercenary mages to work alongside the court wizard. They had used great magic to keep the approach silent.
It was the middle of the night when they made their move. Rinvir heard them approach and woke you up quickly.
"I think the prince found us! There's a lot of them. I can't believe they got so close without me noticing!"
He held you in his arms and planned to fly off with you through the temple's tower window.
You were too frightened to speak, but you had confidence in Rinvir's ability to get you to safety.
Rinvir spread his wings and leapt from the window. But a beam of light made by the combined magic of the King's sorcerers pulled the two of you to the ground.
Percival's heart leapt at the sight of you. He could scarcely believe you were still alive. This was amazing. He'd take you back, marry you at once, keep you safe, and heal you from whatever trauma this brute subjected you to.
"SLOWLY!!! He has my betrothed!!"
Yes, he was quickly paralyzed with powerful magic, and you were pried from his grasp.
Your knightly king would have you soon. Percival would make up for every bad word he ever uttered to you, for every humiliation, for hurting you the first time the two of you had made love because he had assumed you were more experienced.
He felt silly for having brought a small army when all he had needed were a few powerful magic users. They brought you to him, and he hoisted you into one of the wagons that had been brought to take back the dragon's treasures.
Percival removed his replacement armor and pulled you right into his lap. You had been shocked into silence with everything having moved so fast. One moment, you were snuggled up with Rinvir, your love, and suddenly, you found yourself in the lap of the man who made you hate life. Who's touch made you want to vomit.
You tried to shake him off and escape his hold.
"M-my Rinvir... I got to see Rinvir..."
"Who? That glorified lizard? Has he brainwashed you!? They say the best way to break such magic is with the touch of a loved one."
His hands were all over you as he peppered you with small kisses.
"Forget that monster, you're safe now, I promise."
"Y-you don't understand! I love him! Please let us go!"
He held you tightly with one arm as he began stripping you down with the other.
"I know just the thing to break this bewitchment."
Percival figured even if you weren't under the power of a spell that giving you his cock and making you feel good would still help you get over your overgrown lizard. The king kept you on his lap but turned you to face him. He swallowed up all of your protests with a deep hungry kiss, his tongue rolling around your mouth as it invaded you.
You started thrashing more as his finger grazed your hole. He held you tight as he leaned over and grabbed a vial from a box underneath his seat. He had this wagon prepared for your rescue if it was successful.
“Please don't. J-just let me go back...”
He put the contents on his fingers and massaged them diligently into your hole, slowly adding more digits until you could handle four of them with ease. Then he slicked up his large cock.
"Don't worry. This will be so much better than last time. I'll be the only man you ever think of after this."
His mouth attended to your neck as he slid into you slowly, going at a slow pace and making sure he hit a spot in you with each thrust that made you shudder and keen.
Percival had to admit that it was his fault your first time was awful. But he had consulted books since then. If he had been this attentive the first time, he could have been bedding you for a long time. You wept silently as your body betrayed you entirely, Percival assumed that the pleasure was just too much for you. You came intensely, spurting cum all over his hard abs and chest.
He went faster, still careful to go at a pace that wouldn't hurt you, as he chased his own climax. Being inside you finally and seeing your face as it was so ruined by pleasure sent him over the edge, and he filled your bowels with his semen.
"See!? Isn't that so much better? We can do it all the time now! I forgot to tell you! I'm the king!!!"
He held you close, burying your face in his pecs as he rubbed your back.
"If anyone gives us shit for being gay I'll cut their tongue out."
Percival was worried because you kept shaking and sobbing, but when you cried about wanting to go back to Rinvir, his attitude went icy. He peeled you off of his dick and cleaned you up roughly but then sat you across from him.
He had to remind himself that you had suffered great trauma, and it would likely take time to heal since it clearly wasn't a mere spell that had been laid upon you. He had to remain kind to you because it wasn't your fault, and a king shouldn't treat his betrothed too harshly.
Besides, he still had to make up for all the torture he put you through.
But he was not known for his patience. As the weeks passed, he grew increasingly irritable and could no longer handle your ceaseless whingeing about Rinvir.
Percival arranged for you to meet the piece of trash.
He took you down to the dungeon where you saw Rinvir. He was encased in a solid block of some type of enchanted glass or maybe even magical ice, completely unable to move. You fell to your knees and pressed your hands to the surface of the material as you cried his name. You hadn't seen him since you were ripped from his arms, you hadn't even known whether or not he survived!
"He's still alive, you know?"
Percival leaned down and spoke softly into your ear.
"I was going to have him displayed in the throne room, but that would have been too cruel to you, and I do love you so."
The depraved king applied a special lube to his fingers. One that was guaranteed to make you cum hard.
"He can see and hear everything. Since you cry for him so much in my presence, it is only fair that he hears how I make you moan and cry in pleasure."
You were crying so desperately that Percival's words hardly registered at all. Only when he pulled down your leggings did you realize his intent. You squirmed and writhed as he put the lube in you, feeling a strange heat inside you as he rubbed it in.
He gripped your hips and lined up with your hole, your crying face looking down shamefully to avoid seeing Rinvir as Percival took you.
His cock kissed that spot inside you and instantly you started moaning. It was like he was pumping a surge of ecstasy into you with every thrust. Though tears fell to the cold dungeon floor as he fucked into you, you couldn't help arching your back and moving against every thrust in an effort to feel it more deeply.
It was something you had never done before while Percival "made love" to you.
Percival greatly increased the pace. He wanted Rinvir to hear the smack every single time he drove into you, wanted you to hear the squelch from the precum and lube as he pressed into you, and most of all wanted him to hear all the pretty little gasps and moans HIS fiancé was making that HE had caused.
Percival's throbbing cock spilled rope after rope of semen into you, causing you to practically collapse to the floor in a riot of bliss as you came. You buried your head in your arms in humiliation and guilt. Your loving king angled your head up and forced you to look at Rinvir.
"It probably hurts him a great deal to see you like this, don't you think? From now on, anytime you mention his name, I am going to bring you down here and breed you right in front of him."
Percival sneered evilly at Rinvir. He knew from your defeated expression that he had won. The king kissed and comforted you as he picked you up to take you to bed. You had a long day, and tomorrow there was a wedding to start planning... now that you were over your ex...
He left the mess that had pooled out of you right where it had fallen. Rinvir could look at all the cum he had put into you for a while as a reminder of what Percival did to those who would dare take what was his.
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hoshifighting · 3 months ago
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— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.
Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.
With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.
You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.
“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”
You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”
“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”
Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”
“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”
“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.
You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”
Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”
“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”
“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”
You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”
— // NEXT DAY // —
You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.
“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.
“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”
Here we go.
You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”
Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”
You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.
But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.
“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”
“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”
As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”
You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”
He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”
Your day only goes downhill from there.
An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.
As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.
By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.
You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.
“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.
She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”
From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.
“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.
He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”
You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”
As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.
[...]
The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.
It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.
Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—
Wait.
What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.
You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.
“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”
The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.
“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”
“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.
You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”
“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.
“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”
Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.
“Jihoon?!”
The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.
You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”
He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”
“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”
“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”
“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”
“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”
“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out. 
You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall. 
“You know what? I should call the police on you.”
His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”
You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”
Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”
He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.
You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”
“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”
Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.
“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.
He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear. 
You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”
His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”
You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”
Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”
For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.
“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”
You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.
Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”
Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”
“Strawberry!” he calls out.
You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.
He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.
Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”
You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”
He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.
No wonder people kept coming back.
Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed. 
You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.
“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.
Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”
You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.
Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”
You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.
“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”
You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.
“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”
Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”
He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”
You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.
“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”
The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.
You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.
“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”
He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”
The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.
And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.
Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”
You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat. 
The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.
Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.
Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.
Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"
Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."
You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.
"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.
Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"
You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."
Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"
You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."
His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"
"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."
Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."
"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."
He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.
"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.
You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."
Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."
You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."
Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."
You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."
He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."
You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.
"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."
Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.
As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.
Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."
The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.
Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”
He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.
You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.
He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”
You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.
As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.
You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."
Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.
As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.
His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”
You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.
Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."
"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”
An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.
"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly. 
She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.
As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.
"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.
"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.
"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.
With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.
After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.
"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.
"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."
You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."
He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.
"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"
He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"
You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”
Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"
You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."
His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."
"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."
He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."
"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."
Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."
As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows. 
The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.
Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.
Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.
Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.
“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”
Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.
“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.
You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”
She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”
Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.
Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”
You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”
You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.
The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.
As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.
Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”
Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”
As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.
After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"
You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."
“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”
“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”
Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."
The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.
You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"
He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.
"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”
Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"
He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”
You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”
Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.
You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.
You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”
He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”
You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”
Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space. 
He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.
He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”
You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.
Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."
He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”
Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."
“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”
You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.
His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.
You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.
“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"
He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”
You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.
"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”
He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”
You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.
“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”
His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.
He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”
Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.
His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”
His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough. 
His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.
His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second. 
Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”
He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.
You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.
You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.
Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.
You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.
"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck. 
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning. 
The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.
You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."
His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.
With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.
He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.
You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."
He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.
"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.
"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."
His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.
He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"
You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."
His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.
"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."
You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.
Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.
“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.
Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.
“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.
You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.
You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.
You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.
“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.
He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”
You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”
His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.
His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.
“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.
“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath. 
You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.
“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”
His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.
But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”
You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.
He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.
“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.
You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”
“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”
You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.
He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”
You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.
He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.
“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.
He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”
You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”
He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.” 
Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.
Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.
"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."
You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke. 
Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched.  Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.
His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.
“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.
God. Hot. So fucking hot.
You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.
“Pull my hair.”
His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.
His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.
“Jihoon…”
He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.
You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it. 
“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.
He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”
You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”
He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”
You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”
He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.
“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.
You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”
He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”
Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.
“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.
You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”
“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”
When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.
You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”
He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”
The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.
He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.
His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.
You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.
He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.
You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.
He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”
His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.
He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.
You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.
His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.
You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”
Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”
You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”
Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.
You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.
“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”
He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”
“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.
There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.
“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”
Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”
You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.
“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”
He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”
“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”
“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.
Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?” 
“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”
You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”
“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”
You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”
His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”
You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”
He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.
You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”
He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”
“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”
“I did baby girl, I did.”
You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.
“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”
The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.
One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.
As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.
He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.
His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.
You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”
Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”
You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”
Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”
Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”
Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”
You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”
He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.
Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.
“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.
You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”
He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”
“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”
Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”
“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”
Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.
“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him. 
“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”
His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”
“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”
You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.
Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”
You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”
The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”
Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”
The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”
You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”
She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.
“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”
You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”
Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”
You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”
Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”
You shake your head, smiling. 
[...]
You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.
Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”
You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”
Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”
You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”
As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control. 
He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.
You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.
As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.
By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.
He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”
You smile. “You could say that. You?”
Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”
You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”
He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.
From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”
As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”
Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”
He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”
[...]
The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.
You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate. 
His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."
You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”
His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”
“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."
He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.
You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”
He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”
You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”
That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.
For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.
When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.
“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”
You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”
He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red. 
“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”
“At least it's not my bakery.”
[...]
You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.
"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.
“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.
“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”
You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”
You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.
And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.
Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”
His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”
“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”
Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”
“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”
You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”
ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.
Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”
Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.
You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.
You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”
You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”
The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”
One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”
You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.
“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.
The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”
You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.
As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”
You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”
“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.
“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.
You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”
Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”
Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”
 “Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”
Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.
“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”
“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.
One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”
Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.
You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”
Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”
One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”
You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”
“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”
Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.
“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”
The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”
He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.
Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”
You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”
The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”
Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”
The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased. 
“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.
You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”
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gojos-version · 3 months ago
Text
What a slutty concubine
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Pairings- Y/N x Hein era! Sukuna
Summary- Your village gave you to Sukuna as an offering, so you became one of his concubines. He seems to ignore your presence for weeks until today.
Warnings- Monster fucking (if Hein era Sukuna counts as that), pet name (little one because you're physically smaller than him and he's 8ft. brat is used), his tummy mouth is used, mating press, double penetration, size kink, tummy bulge, very light choking, doggy style, full nelson and no protection.
Word count- 2.5k
Proof read- ✅
A/n- Hello!! This is the result from the poll i did yesterday! I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it :) I told yall id cook and make it filthy >:P Please feel free to request anything or drop any suggestions!! I hope you have a lovely day <33
⋆ ✩°。⋆ 𖦹。˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°。⋆ 𖦹。˚ ⋆
“Master Sukuna requests all of you to be lined up outside his chambers.” Uraume’s voice rings out, making you stop what you were doing. You nudge the woman next to you and whisper, “What’s going on?”, she nudges you forward softly whispering, “The king does this a few times monthly, or every few days depending on his mood. He chooses one of us to spend the night with.” She grins, “Come, let us go now or he’ll be mad.” You nod your head nervously and follow closely behind her. 
Spend the night with him? You think to yourself. What does that mean? Your heart races thinking it could mean..he’d kill you.. Or.. you stop yourself from thinking about that and shake your head. Not the time. It's not like he'd choose you anyway. He’s completely ignored you for weeks. You kneel down next to the other concubines bowing your head respectively. You hear his loud thump thump thump of footsteps. You want to look up at him but you can't bring yourself to. “They are here as you requested, Master.” you hear Uraume say and then Sukuna hums. “Excellent”, you feel his eyes scanning around the room, your heart racing feeling his gaze on you. 
“You. Come with me.” He orders, you lift your head up and Uraume nods their head at you, “Everyone else you are dismissed.” they order out. You feel your mouth go dry as the other concubines glare at you, some scoffing as they walk back to the room. The one you were talking to before smiles at you, giving you an encouraging “Don’t worry you can do this! Let me know how you go, okay? I’m Akari!”, You let out a small smile to her, “O-okay.. Thank you Akari, I’m y/n” you introduce yourself back. You didn't talk much to anyone when you got here, you did speak to Akari for a bit but never really got the chance to introduce yourself or know her name.
“Y/n, come. You don't want the King to be infuriated.” Uraume interrupts, you swallow thickly nodding your head and follow them into Sukuna’s chambers. You grip the sleeve of your kimono as you trail closely behind Uraume. They knock on the door, “You may enter.” Sukunas deep voice trails out. Your heart races as Uraume steps to the side and gestures for you to walk in. with shaky legs you walk into the room and the door shut with a soft click! “Don’t be afraid, little one. Come.” He orders. For a moment you take him in, 4 big muscley arms, a giant mouth on his abdomen, its expression mirroring his face. He's got 2 arms crossed and the other 2 by his side, all 4 of his eyes watching you. You step closer to him, standing in front of him. “What is it that you want, My Lord?” you ask, trying not to let your voice shake. He raises a brow and grins, “Answer me this, little one, are you pure?” Pure? Does he mean a virgin? If he's not happy with my answer what if he kills me?
“Um.. I am not pure” You answer truthfully. You've been with only one man in your life but, in the village you lived in before you were offered to Sukuna. You had a happy relationship with your boyfriend but god he didn't even say anything as the villagers pushed you towards Sukuna screaming out you were the offering. You see him hum thoughtfully. “Normally I'd kill you for it but since you were given as an offering, I'll give you a chance to please me.” Your eyes widen, you've only really done it once with your boyfriend. It was a fresh relationship before all this happened! It might not have been the best but to you it was more than enough.
“T-thank you, Lord Sukuna.” You bow politely. Now what? Do you strip? Do you wait for him to kiss you? Do you get on the bed???? His voice interrupts your thoughts, “Strip and sit on the bed.” He orders as he turns around to take off his own kimono and he hangs it, while you step out of your kimono and undergarments. Hesitantly you sit on the bed laying on your back. “Good.” He praises, he crawls on top of you and takes your lips in his. You kiss him back and god you feel his tongue dominating yours, your body heats up, his tongue working against yours making you moan softly into his mouth, it feels like electricity shooting through your veins from a simple kiss.
Your now ex?? boyfriend never made your body react this way with a simple kiss. His lips part from yours and he starts nibbling at your throat. “How many times was he inside of you?” He hums against your skin. Your mouth runs dry, “U-uh once”, You hear a hum of satisfaction. Sukuna moves down to your breasts sucking on your nipple harshly, groping and fondling the other one. You feel yourself get damp, slick dripping down your sopping cunt down to your ass. You've never gotten this wet this quickly. You were almost concerned you got your period early from how goddamn soaked you felt. One of his hands goes down, touching your tummy down to your cunt and oh he laughs when he feels how damp you are. “Look at how wet she is” he smirks, his palm cupping your cunt. Your heart stops when you feel something wet and slimy against your sopping cunt. “Relax, it's just a mouth.” He grunts out, putting more pressure against it. You gasp out a moan, your hands reaching out to grip his shoulders.
“L-L-ord- Ah-!” You moan out as the tongue on his palm pushes deep inside of you, bullying its way into you. “Yeah? Feels good, hm?” He says smugly, sitting back on his heels to watch you, he can see your slick dripping down your thighs and making a wet spot on the mattress under you. You feel a knot in your stomach tightening up making you gasp and moan wildly. “S-suk-una-! A-ah! C-clooooosee!!” you whimper out gripping the sheets with a steel grip, your walls clenching around his tongue. Suddenly he takes his palm off of you, “That’s ‘Lord Sukuna’, little one.”, “I-i’m s-sorry!” You say a bit too loudly. You watch as he slips his undergarment down revealing not 1 but 2 thick, long cocks. 
Your eyes widen and your mouth runs dry. “M-my L-Lord I-im not sure i can-” He cuts you off glaring at you, “You will take them.” your heart races. ‘It looks like 1 is painful. How the hell am I gonna be able to take both?’ You think to yourself, your body feels really hot, you're breathing heavily watching his every move; spreading your legs in anticipation. He notices and smirks, he hovers over you propping your legs up to your chest. You are folded in half your cunt in clear view, so soaked with your ass hole in his view too. He takes his top cock and rubs the tip on your slit, bumping your clit, his precum and your slick mixing together. You can hear his cock and your sopping cunt connecting and every move he moves his cock up and down your slit you can hear the wet squelches your cunt makes. 
He starts to slowly push the tip in, immediately the stretch stings from the sudden intrusion. “Calm yourself.” He mumbles but god he won't admit it outloud, your warm wet cunt clenching around his tip makes him want to shove his entire length into you and fill you oh so full of his cum. You nod your head blearily trying to relax yourself as you feel him sink his cock into you. 2 of his arms grip your thighs, pushing your ankles to your head while his other top arms grip the headboard. He thrusts the first few thrusts slowly allowing you to adjust but after that? His thrusts speed up to an inhuman pace, his mushroom red tip slapping against your cervix hard. You don't moan, you scream out from how heavenly you feel right now, if it's possible somehow above that. Suddenly his left top arm leaves the headboard and his palm covers your mouth, a mouth forming on his palm and it shoves its tongue down your throat making you let out muffled moans it greedily swallows. Sukuna looks down and god he could cum right then and there at the sight of your stomach having a bulge from how big he is. When he thrusts in the bulge is right there and when he pulls back to shove his needy cock into you again and again the bulge disappears and reappears with each motion. You feel a knot form and you feel like you're about to explode. You can't even warn him because he has his hand covering your mouth with its tongue down your throat.
Your drenched cunt grips his cock like a vice, your eyes roll back and you sink somehow further into the mattress and you see not stars, pure white as you start shaking from how good you felt. You hear him grunt out a few curses and he fills you to the brim of how much cum comes out. He lets go of your legs and removes his hand off your mouth. With a swift motion he flips you over, on all fours. “We aren’t done yet, brat I’ve got a lot more in me.” He lines up behind you and pushes his bottom cock into your cunt making you moan out in surprise. “T-there's- more-? A-ah!” You whimper out feeling his tummy mouth's tongue licking your ass, the hole specifically. He stills inside of you breathing heavily and his tummy mouth stops dampening your hole, his top cock bumping against your hole making you shiver in anticipation. 
“P-please..you can put it in..” and oh you feel so pathetic for saying that when he smirks and laughs. “Oh? You’re not so scared now, hm? What happened to your complaining, brat?” He mocks, his tip circling your hole. “I-i’m warmed up now- i didn't mean it before- Lord Sukuna..” You add, not wanting to make him mad. You definitely didnt want to lose your head, especially mid fuck. “Mhm, sure little one.” He laughs and starts pushing the tip in making you gasp and cover your mouth, not wanting to be too loud. He sinks his top cock into your ass making your body feel like jelly; your head slumps against the pillow. 
You let out a string of muffled moans feeling him loom over your body as he begins thrusting both of his cocks in each of your holes. God he was going to destroy you. You feel his hips pistoning against yours, pelvis and balls slapping making a lewd plap! Plap! Plap! Each time he abuses your cervix. Both your hands grip the pillow with all your might, “M-my L-Lord-A-ah!” You squeal out as you feel his cocks so deep inside of you. Your eyebrows pinch up as your head’s slumped into the pillow, your body being used like a fuck toy to satisfy his needs. 
You feel that familiar knot in your tummy, hazily you turn your head and look over your shoulder to find Sukuna breathing heavily on your shoulder, cheeks flushed with his lower set of eyes watching you and his other 2 shut. His mouth on his abdomen licks where you're both connected from your sopping cunt and your ass that's leaking with his precum. “Stop looking at me, brat.” He mumbles out, as you go to look away and apologise one of his hands wrap around your neck, not enough to hurt you but just enough to have the edge of your vision blurred. 
“I-I’m-” Is all you get to cough out before you're squirting messily over his cocks. “Yeah that's it, take it.” He grunts out before filling both of your holes, not to the brim but past the brim, his cum leaking out of you as he thrusts sloppily riding out both of your highs. You see white as you shake uncontrollably. His hand lets go of your throat and you gasp for air, suddenly when you think it's finally over it's not. 2 of his arms grip your thighs, the other 2 grab your middle and upper body which makes your body follow his as he lies backwards onto his back, 2 of his hands holding your thighs up to your chest pinning you against him as he thrusts both of his cocks messily into your holes. “H-ah! M-my L-Lord- p-pleaaasee-ah! Ah! Ah!” You scream out as he bottoms out inside of you with every quick, harsh thrust. 
One of his hands snakes down to your clit and a mouth forms on his palm, licking and sucking your clit making you scream and cry out wildly. “S-s-uk-n-ah!” You whimper out, he moans as your holes clench around him, he hisses slightly then covers your mouth with his free hand and a mouth forms on it the tongue, tongue fucking yours making drool from the corner of your mouth drip down to your chin. 
“You’re so nasty, brat” Sukuna hisses out and bites your neck, your moans and squeals muffled by his nasty mouth on his palm. Your body feels limp just sitting there and taking it. You can feel his heavy breaths against your upper neck where he's biting down, your eyes crossed as you mindlessly claw against his biceps. He's beefy. Huge biceps. “What a nasty, filthy, slutty concubine I have. I’d say your village made an exceptional offering.” You feel yourself flush at his words. Right now it feels like his cocks are trying to rip their way to your lungs, his tongue trying to go down your throat, his tummy mouth trying to soak your back and ass and his other mouth trying to bite your clit off. But right now the lines between pleasure and pain blurred the moment he stuffed you full of his cock.
Your puffy cunt and ass squeeze his cocks like you're milking him making a moan slip out of his pink, pouty lips. God youd scream right now if you could but thanks to his tongue fucking your mouth you can only let out muffled guttural sounds. Your stomachs warm tight knot knots up signalling you're oh so close to coming all over his cocks. Your vision feels faint and you feel light headed from the pleasure but youre so close. Your cunt and ass squeeze around his cocks as you squirt again soaking his pelvis and legs, your eyes roll back and the last thing you can feel is his warm cum filling you up once again as you pass out. “Brat, did you pass out?” When you give no answer he lets out a ‘Hmph’ as he pulls out of you, grinning in satisfaction as his cum leaks from your holes, your tummy plump from how much he finished inside of you. 
The sheets are soaked and so are the both of you. He puts a towel around his bottom half as his cocks soften up. “Uraume, take care of her.” He orders out, “Yes, sir” They nod, wrapping you in a towel and taking you to your bed. He hums to himself silently thinking, he’s definitely going to have more fun with you in the future.
⋆ ✩°。⋆ 𖦹。˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°。⋆ 𖦹。˚ ⋆
Masterlist<3
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rockingbytheseaside · 3 months ago
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omg, I am quite literally in love with your work.
pls I cannot tell you how frickin ecstatic I am when I read your stuff 😭 like I’m Fr Rolling on the floor and stopping every five secs bc of the butterflies-
AND! I saw that your asks are open!! (If I misread/misunderstood then I’m so sorry and just ignore this) I was wondering if you could do Harbingers x reader when they find reader quietly weeping- like reader thought they were alone and didn’t wanna burden them :3 romantic if you would !!
no pressure ofc!!!! fr I love ur stuff sm like I’ve been reading ur stuff OVER AND OVER😭😭😭
(bshdhsgdhagjds Okay, let me just hold in my tears- that’s so kind of you anon! Sorry for making you wait, I hope this is something similar to what you wanted) 
✦ How they comfort you when you cry
Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe
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Sometimes, your days might feel bitter, and sometimes the weight of your inner struggles can accumulate into a somber heap of self-doubt. Whether it was a minute inconvenience that resulted in your dampened mood, or stressful memories of the past – the reasons behind it fade into insignificance. Because next thing you know, you feel your shoulders slightly shaking, and your hand reaching to conceal your silent weeping. Thus, when talking becomes a burden and your breath runs short, your beloved is the first to listen to your sniffles.
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✧ Pierro’s already icy gaze becomes unreadable. Is it fear? Is it astonishment? Or is it the readiness to unleash hell upon anything that compelled you to shed these silent tears? He sees you hugging yourself, trying to shield yourself away from him. His gloved hands cautiously reach for your form, like a blanket wrapping itself around your shoulders. 
“My divine one, why hide your tears away from me? Why conceal the sadness in your eyes when you silently weep? Please, grace me with your gaze and look at me.” 
His voice is careful despite its deepness, suppressing his boiling temper at the sight of your sadness. He reaches for you tenderly, and when you turn towards him, you allow yourself to cry further into his chest. He cradles you silently, never once wasting breath on simple shushes or admonishments to cease crying. No, The Jester will hold you, let his lips press softly to your forehead, and let you cry as much as you need. He'll personally worship and wipe every teardrop off your cheek. 
Yet despite his gentle arms, you sense him shaking. His gloved hands hold you securely, yet subconsciously gripping. Because pray to the archons above, he will not rest until the source of your sadness is annihilated. 
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✧ Il Capitano never saw you cry before. He saw you as an equal in matters of battles, duels, and personal life. Through ups and downs, your best and worst. And yet the imposing, mighty Captain never witnessed his beloved’s face slowly scowl and emit those saddened sobs as you're doing now. 
“No… who bestowed such sadness onto you, my cherished? What sorrows are you fighting?” 
He asks, half in disbelief and worry. The Captain kneels down, the back of his armored hands gracefully meeting your face. He makes sure you’re not physically in pain, his touch asking permission for the simplest caress. You might feel embarrassed to explain why you're crying, but the Captain will coax you to talk only if you bestow him this honor. Otherwise, he never mocks or admonishes you for crying – “This is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of humanity in your strength.”
To soothe you, he'd drape an arm around your shoulder, bringing the side of his coat to shield you. If you desire, he'd immediately discard his coat entirely and wrap it over your shoulders. And if you desire neither this or that, he'd silently kneel, asking for permission to pick you up in his forearms, so you may rest on his shoulder while he carries you away. 
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✧ You cannot conceal your sorrows from Il Dottore. He suspects you are feeling dejected before you even realize it. Should your shoulders quiver and tears well in your eyes, he'll be the first to perceive it. His already tense countenance will harden, and in short, murderous intent, he’ll ask:
“Who did this to you?”
His first suspension is that someone foolish enough dared to hurt you, and his next task is to seek out that moron. And stars above, if someone did ruin your day, the Doctor will have a new cadaver on his lab table. You'll have to physically restrain the Harbinger in front of you by putting your hands on his shoulder and explaining hurriedly that no one did anything harmful. 
Il Dottore won't quell his inner rage so easily though. As you shake your head, and rub your eyes, it will require much persuasion to convince him that it’s not as dire as he suspects. Nonetheless, Dottore will keep a tight hold on your form. If he won't murder someone in rage, then he'll prepare a soothing beverage and wrap you up in a comfortable seating so you may rest your weary head. He’ll have to personally drag you to sit by his lap so you won’t desolate yourself into a depressive fit again. 
“Wasting your breath and energy on crying is a futile endeavor. You'll only tire your body out… so rest in my arms before your mind starts weaving more puny sentiments.” 
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✧ The ever-prideful and strict Scaramouche would find himself faltering into silence when the unfamiliar sound emanates from your being. The hiccupped sounds of choked cries are not foreign to him - he recognized them very well and was personally acquainted with the physical pain of crying. But seeing the closest being, the one he calls most cherished, to unexplainable weep was a new form of pain he had never experienced. 
“... Are you-? What's wrong, are you hurt? Did something-!”
An expression of shock and fear bestows the Balladeer, his hands are reluctant and afraid to cross your boundaries when you cry in front of him. His first instinct is to believe that he has erred, that he has hurt you or spoken insensitively. Anguished, his fist tightens, dreading your stern rejection. Yet, all it takes is a gentle shake of your head and a soft reassurance - no, he hasn't actually done anything wrong.
His brow will remain furrowed, and only under your permission, he would glue himself to you in a reassuring embrace. It's only after he's assured of your safety and well-being that the Harbinger begins to ease up and scoff. Maybe, just maybe, he will go and bring your favorite sweets afterward. Regardless, his hands kept cupping your face, thumbs gently wiping your tears.
“Ha, you’re that sensitive that you’d weep at the most minor inconvenience? Fine, I’ll stay here. But don’t get too comfortable. And you better stop apologizing for crying. You should never say sorry for something like that. It’s in your right to cry… Just come to me when something’s troubling you, alright?”
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✧ You cannot recall a single instance when Pantalone's captivating smile ever wavered. The man has perfected his charismatic, million-mora smile that only you can discern if he’s being genuine or not. But to witness it dropping completely in a cold stare while you cried was chilling. You felt scared, as the Harbinger grew eerily silent with each slow step, he demanded:
“... Give me names and I will make sure they will disappear permanently.”
You jolted. This was bad, and it sure didn’t quell your sobbing as you hurriedly shook your head. Pantalone took a deep sigh, his brain forced to flip a switch and change to a more tender tone so he wouldn’t scare you further with his sinister rage. He will deal with the causes later. What mattered now was your shaken state. Hence, like the dotting lover he is, he softly inquired whether you wish to talk or have some privacy. 
If you willingly welcomed his physical touch, then prepare yourself for a day filled with him enfolding you tightly. He will draw you near, letting you cry your frustrations out until you get fatigued and rest against his lean chest. The Regrator always fulfills his pledges, gently rocking you back and forth. He will vow to spoil you on the next shopping spree and purchase everything you desire - luxuries, clothes, perfumes, or fancy meals, all of it is yours with a snap of his fingers (even if you reprimand his indulgence). His embraces are tenacious, endless kisses raining down on your face until you plead and whine to be released from his insistent hugs.
"My heart, how can I possibly release you when you should be adorned with kisses instead of tears? I am afraid I won’t be so easily reassured until I see your smile again."
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✧ Tartaglia’s highlight of the day is mirroring your luminous smile; hence when he first heard your sorrowful sniffles, it felt like a sudden dark cloud washed past him, pouring cold water to wipe his smile off in an instant. Without hesitation, his hand found itself on your shoulder as he guided you to sit first.
“Hey, hey… What’s wrong, darling? I’m here, it’s alright.”
He observes your attempt to explain the root of your troubles, but as you try to elaborate, your tears only intensify against your own will. Kneeling in front of you, his gaze was resolute - he now had a mission. He will immediately soothe your mood with tender words of endearment, lighthearted banter, and the occasional joke here and there, anything to make you crack up with that sweet smile he so adores.
Tartaglia will remind you that first and foremost, he is your Ajax - the one who will bring laughter through his playful teasing and delightful humor during your times of melancholy. The one who will cook you the best Snezhnayan Bliny better than any pancake restaurant. And the one who will always be there so you can lean your head on his shoulder and just feel his heartbeat as he embraces you deeply. In any other circumstances, he is the 11th of the Fatui Harbinger who will work and bloody his fists for your safety. However, for now, you shouldn’t occupy your thoughts with such concerns.
“Hey, it’s alright… You don’t have to feel embarrassed for crying. We all have bad days from time to time. How about this, leave today’s dinner on me. I shall cook your favorite even better than you could imagine! Or else what sort of boyfriend would I be if I’m not spoiling my darling.” 
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sanguineterrain · 4 months ago
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Kurt wagner and tail stuff!!! I love that boy! I love how you write! I love the tail! Smashing them together we got a a little piece of heaven! So Kurt wagner with s/o and some tail action pretty please!!
(Like if you need some more then that: for example, the times before they were together Kurt’s tail always seemed to gravitate towards reader (I’m an advocate that Kurt’s tail is like a fricking mood ring) wrapping around them, touching them. The times when they were together! And the time reader wraps their hand or something around his tail or something)
Love your writing! You’re awesome and amazing! And I want to say in advance, thank you so so much for doing this ask! I will treasure it dearly! And if you don’t do the ask then thank you so so much to taking the time to read it! Have a lovely day!
ouuu this is a sweet request <3 tail boy! thanks nonnie :) hopefully I did him justice 🫶 changed the request a bit but kept the same idea about the tail. may write a part 2... we'll see!
kurt wagner (nightcrawler) x gn!reader. fluff, cooking, gambit and rogue trying to talk some sense into the reader.
note: I tried to capture kurt and gambit's accents. however, as always, I'm open to feedback on them. It's definitely not my intention to offend or miswrite anyone!
****
The smell of bubbling cheese wafts from your pot as you stir. It's been a while since you were able to cook for yourself and have a nice meal, always running out to do something or another for the good of the planet.
"Smells good," comes a familiar voice. A moment later, a tail curls around your wrist as you shake some paprika into the pot.
You look away from your stirring into golden, irisless eyes. Kurt grins at you.
"Mac 'n cheese," you say by way of greeting. "Want some?"
"Please und thank you."
Anytime you cook, you offer Kurt to share. You frequently have the thought that you spoil the hell out of him, but you can't help it.
He helps you out by putting away the milk and cheese. But he's never far; his tail remains on you. It slackens from your wrist, then explores up your arm and around your elbow.
It's nothing new, of course. The first thing you learned about Kurt Wagner is how physically affectionate he is.
"That tail seems to have a mind of its own, elfie," you say, smiling down at the pot.
"What do you mean?"
"It's always holding onto me." You turn off the burner.
"Ah." Kurt drops his tail. "My apologies. I can ease up, as you say."
You shake your head. "Don't. I don't mind. Never have."
So Kurt gives you one final tail squeeze. The fur on his arm tickles you as he brushes past. You watch him in confusion.
"Where are you going?" you ask, halfway through scooping two servings of the pasta.
"Not far," he says brightly. "Jean wanted me to bring spoons from the kitchen." He holds up three metal spoons with his tail.
"Spoons?"
He shrugs. "An experiment. Who am I to question a scientist's whim? I promise I will be fast."
He teleports away, and you have a mind to cover Kurt's bowl with a plate. You bring both bowls to the table. At last, a proper meal.
You don't mind eating alone, but that hardly ever happens with Kurt around. Even if he's just eaten, he'll nibble on whatever you've made. You don't know where he puts all that food—perhaps in another dimension—but he makes it a point to eat with you, regardless of whether you've cooked or not. Even if you're in the middle of the forest eating a tin of beans, Kurt will plant himself right next to you and keep you company.
He's a good friend. The best friend you've ever had, actually.
"Woo, smells good!"
Gambit comes in first, followed by Rogue, since the two are never seen apart anymore. Gambit, nosy that he is, makes a beeline to Kurt's covered bowl.
"And what's in here?" he asks, lifting the plate.
"That's Kurt's," you say. "You can get some from the pot."
"Mais, it's Kurt's, huh?" He glances at Rogue, who grins. "Hear that, chère? Not sure if I should take from the pot. Might take my head, too."
You squint as they share laughter. "What're you talking about?"
"Oh, nothin'," Rogue says sweetly, taking the seat diagonal to you. Gambit sits next to her.
Your frown deepens. "I didn't say you couldn't have some, G, I just—"
Gambit shakes his head. "Don't go worryin' 'bout that. I'm just teasin'. I think it's cute how you feed the furball."
"Excuse me, I feed myself first," you say, and shovel a forkful of pasta into your mouth.
You hate not being in the know. It happens frequently, being that you're not a mutant. You're here on a personal invitation from Charles due to your "technology skills."
Really, you'd been brought here to fix Cerebro. And after that, you'd sort of just... stayed at the school. Charles had offered you a room, Kurt had won your friendship (or, perhaps, you'd won his), and you'd never left.
"Well, what do you mean, anyway? So what if I feed Kurt," you say, unable to stand not knowing.
"Just seems like where you are, Kurt's never far," Rogue says, watching you eat.
"Yeah, so? He's my friend."
"Oh, un ami. Is that what we're callin' it?" Gambit asks, eyes gleaming with mirth.
"What else would you call it?"
They look at each other in that Siamese cats way. Often, you've had the thought that they can read each other's minds—no powers needed.
"You really don't know?" Rogue asks, voice softening.
"Know what?" you ask impatiently.
Gambit makes a quiet noise in his throat. "Y'all don't know. He's gone on you."
Your brows rise. "Kurt? Don't be silly, Remy."
"Oh, great. You're both in denial," Rogue says, rolling her eyes. "Haven't you noticed how touchy he is around ya? Always huggin' and clingin'."
"Kurt's like that with everybody," you say. "He's like that with Logan!"
"Mais, the tail, it never lies," Gambit says with all the wisdom of someone centuries older. "He don't go wrappin' that tail 'round anybody."
Rogue nods sagely. "True. And he's always puttin' that tail around you."
"But he's..." You put your fork down in frustration. "That's ridiculous. Kurt would've said—I mean, there would've been a sign. He would've told me. Kurt doesn't hide anything from me."
"This is new for him, honey," Rogue says. "He's never been in love for real. He's not gonna act rationally."
"Alors, look at it this way. La Raison parle, mais l'Amour chante. Hm? His body betray his words. It sings to you. Jus' like I sing to ma cherie."
He reaches to take Rogue's hand, eyes practically heart-shaped. Rogue lets him, smiling in that secret, shy way of hers whenever Gambit is sweet on her.
L'Amour...
"Kurt is not in love with me," you say. "End of story."
They both heave sighs.
"Just watch his tail," Rogue says. "Kurt can hide a lot, but he can't control how he—"
BAMF!
You flinch as Kurt teleports into the kitchen. He grins and waves, then bounces around the table to greet the others.
"I'm back!" he says. "I hope my mac did not get cold. Will you be eating with us?"
"No, that's okay," Rogue says, looking at you meaningfully behind Kurt's back. "Rain check. We've gotta go train."
Gambit winks at you. "See y'all."
They disappear quickly. Kurt turns to you, blissfully unaware of your newly formed nerves.
"I am sorry I was gone for so long," Kurt says, sitting down to his bowl. "Jean had some questions about my abilities. Apparently, she's trying to replicate them in a machine."
"That's okay," you say. "Rogue and G kept me company."
Kurt beams. "They are so good for that, yes?"
He shovels a mouthful of mac 'n cheese into his mouth and groans in appreciation. His tail instantly curls around your wrist.
"Amazing!" Kurt says. "Perhaps your special ability is your cooking, hm? I would believe it."
You laugh. "Danke, elfie."
"Bitte schön," he says, eyes lighting up at your German. He frequently informs everyone about how good your German is becoming, even though you hardly know ten phrases.
His tail begins to stroke your arm. You wonder if he's aware of it. If he knows how his tail betrays him.
But no, that's outrageous. And even if it was true, it's not like the feeling's mutual, right?
"Oh, and," Kurt says. "I got us tickets to that show you wanted to see. They're playing it at the theater downtown. We can go on Saturday, ja?"
"You... oh. Wow. I told you about that ages ago, Kurt. You remembered?"
"Why wouldn't I?" he says, tilting his head. Like it hadn't occurred to him to be anything less than thoughtful.
"No, I'm just—thank you. That's really nice of you."
Kurt beams. "I am excited to watch the green witch und her pink friend sing!"
He keeps eating, unaware of the way he's made your world tip on its axis. Because now you know.
You're in love with Kurt Wagner. And the feeling just might be mutual.
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spicy-apple-pie · 2 months ago
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Can someone PLEASE write a Cass joins the Batfam early fic???
She and Jason are the same age and this is kinda the first time she meets someone her age. When he reaches out a hand to shake, she fucking Judo flips him and pins him to the ground.
Bruce quickly gets Cassandra off and gently explains to her that Jason is a friend and we don’t hurt friends. Jason wants to be mad, but she looked absolutely petrified when Bruce raised his voice and actually really ashamed that she hurt him. So he forgives her pretty quickly.
Jason also loves reading to her. They start with picture books, as they allow her to connect the images with words and such. But she’s a quick learner and soon can read books without pictures.
All according to Jason’s plan.
He quickly introduces her to his favourite books and he can babble on and on about them. He makes sure to ask Cass open ended questions so she feels encouraged to talk with him.
Dick comes for a visit and absolutely freaks out on Bruce. Like what do you MEAN you got another one? Why? I thought we talked about this?
Cass takes a while to warm up to Dick. But decides he’s her favourite after he bribes her with ice cream.
Bruce doesn’t know if it’s because Jason doesn’t like to be touched a whole lot, but he swears children are not as clingy as Cass. Bruce gave her a hug one time, and Cass has been on that dopamine rush ever since. All sense of personal space went right out the window when she experienced touch that wasn’t meant to hurt her. If Bruce is working in his office, Cassandra will come in, not address Bruce in anyway, and squirm her way onto his lap and just sit there.
She does this to like, everyone. She’ll lay next to Jason as he reads. She holds Alfred’s hand while he cleans. Once she straight up climbed Dick to sit on his shoulders because he held her up there one time and she just made herself at home.
This helps Jason become more comfortable with physical affection too. Jason will wake up from a nightmare to Cass staring at him.
“Agh! What the fuck, Cass!?”
“Scared.”
“What?”
“You are scared. Frightmare.”
“Yeah. I had a nightmare.”
“Nightmare.” Cass corrects herself.
“Yeah, am alright now though.” Jason goes to roll over and Cass stops him.
“Liar.”
“What? I’m not lying!” Okay, maybe it would take him a good hour to finally calm down enough to sleep, but he’s fine.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Cassandra teased him.
“Seriously, Cass I’m fi-“ Cass drags him out of bed and marches him to Bruce’s room.
Bruce sleepily questions what two bodies are doing his bed instead of the usually single body (again, Cass has no concept of personal space so often sleeps with Bruce).
“Jason had a nightmare.” Cass says as she forcibly tucks Jason in beside him.
“Oh, Jaylad.” Bruce rolls over. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah but…” Jason thinks about going to his bedroom, but Cass is already cuddled up beside him. “Is it okay if I sleep in here for tonight?”
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jellyfishsthings · 1 month ago
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Hold Your Breath My Darling
WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else
requests are open
part 2
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The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.
As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.
Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.
"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.
"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.
But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on her. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat
The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.
She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.
As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.
“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.
She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.
“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.
In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.
The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.
She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.
“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.
But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.
“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.
But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.
She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.
“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.
As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”
"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."
Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.
In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.
With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.
Then the darkness came.
The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.
“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”
“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”
“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”
Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”
“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”
The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.
Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.
Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”
Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.
Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.
He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.
“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.
Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.
“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.
“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.
He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.
Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.
And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.
Once.
Twice.
He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.
But no.
It was true. She was breathing.
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