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ventismacchiato · 12 days ago

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12 stuck with you — kiss kiss fall in love !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The ringing of a phone pierces through the quiet and drags you from sleep. Disoriented, you blink at the dim light seeping in through the skylight. The sound was vibrating against the bedside table and as you reached for it half-asleep you felt the unmistakable warmth of someone's body tangled with yours.

Your eyes fly open. Scaramouche.

You feel the way your body tenses up, as it usually does when you’re with the idiot. You turn your face and find him just inches away from yours. The pillow you’d place between you two long gone on the floor as the only thing separating you both was the thin comforter.

For a moment, Scaramouche looks oddly peaceful, with his dark hair tousled against the pillow and his brows not creased in its usual scowl towards you. That’s until his eyes open from the sound and he sends you a glare.

“Shut that up,” he grumbles, sitting up and reaching over you to shut it off himself. His body hovers over you and you can see his shirt hang low enough to see his stomach. The warmth of his body radiates through the thin fabric separating you both, and for a split second, you’re hyper-aware of just how close you are. The gentle weight of him leaning over makes your pulse quicken.

You expected him to make a snide comment about how your legs were still tangled together but he doesn’t. It's as if waking up practically wrapped around each other is just another morning for you two. He doesn't acknowledge it, doesn’t even meet your eyes, and for some reason, that silence makes the moment even more charged.

With the phone in hand, he flops back into his spot beside you, muttering something under his breath, the tension between you two as palpable as the fading echo of the ringtone as he wordlessly lays away from you.

“Fuck do you want you old hag,” Scara grumbles, putting the phone on speaker.

“Good morning!” Yae Miko’s voice is far too cheerful for this hour. “We’ve got a little emergency. Some rumors are starting to circulate about the show being fake.”

Your blood runs cold. “Wait, what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Yae continues, almost too calm for the bomb she's dropping. "Which means we need you two to handle it. Get dressed and head to the hot tub. We’ll film a ‘leaked’ kissing scene to throw people off. Make it look real.”

"At five in the morning?" Scaramouche groans, his voice laced with annoyance.

Yae’s voice, ever so sly, comes back through. “Is there a problem? Oh, and don’t forget to make it convincing. The public loves a good scandal!”

You reach over and hang up without answering, already dreading the awkwardness that’s about to unfold. You both lay there for a few minutes, your upcoming fate and lack of sleep not motivating either of you.

“I can see you both slacking off!” Lisa’s voice from the intercoms yell, causing you both to sit up abruptly.

“Fucking perv,” Scara mutters, sliding the comforter off as you follow suit.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He scoffs but doesn’t argue, instead dragging himself up and throwing on the same outfit from last night. You do the same, trying not to think about the fact that you’ll be practically glued to him in about ten minutes.

By the time you make it to the hot tub, the early morning air bites at your skin, the sky still dark. The hot water looks almost inviting compared to the chill, though the thought of what you’re about to do makes your stomach churn.

You lower yourself into the water, already feeling the tension settle in as Scaramouche follows suit. It’s quiet—too quiet—until he mutters, “So, how are we doing this?”

You sink lower into the water, heat creeping up your neck. "I guess… I sit on your lap, and we angle ourselves so it looks like we're kissing."

He gives you a look, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, before nodding. “Fine.”

“Well, get on with it!” Yae’s voice yells from god knows where.

Reluctantly, you move closer an inch. And then another. And then one more.

“For fucks sake, we’ll be here all day,” Scara huffs, reaching out to slide a hand around your waist and yanking you closer. You yelp at the suddenness as you slide onto his lap. His hands find your waist, holding you steady as your heart pounds in your ears. This position is way more intimate than you’d expected. There was nowhere to look but at him with his chest solid against yours. The steam rising from the water makes the air feel thick.

You tilt your head back, just enough so that it looks like you’re about to kiss, hoping that the camera will get the right angle without you two having to go through with it.

“This is good but while we’re here, why don’t you both just kiss,” Lisa yells from the intercom, "Now that will shut down the rumors.”

Your entire body stiffens at Lisa's suggestion, the weight of her words settling in like stones in your stomach. You shift slightly on Scaramouche’s lap, trying to ignore the situation at hand.

“You’ve got to stop shifting like that,” Scara says under his breath, holding your hips still with his hands. He lets out an annoyed sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “Let’s just get it over with,” he mutters, leaning in a little closer, his expression unreadable but tense.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you manage to stammer, “I’ve… never kissed anyone before.”

There’s a beat of silence. You brace yourself, expecting him to make fun of you, to twist this into some new way to tease you relentlessly. Maybe he’ll laugh about how he knew you were a virgin like he usually does or call you pathetic for having no experience.

But that doesn’t happen.

Scaramouche just stares at you, his eyes flickering with something—maybe surprise, maybe something else entirely—but then he simply sighs, and his expression softens just a fraction. If you hadn’t spent so much time glaring at him all your career you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Fine,” he says, his voice calmer than you expected. “I’ll guide it. Just follow my lead.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he takes one of your hands and places it on his shoulder, the other by his nape. The heat from his skin is almost unbearable in contrast to the cool air, and you can feel the slight tension in his muscles under your fingers.

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But Scaramouche’s eyes are steady on yours, his lips close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Relax,” he murmurs, as if that’s an easy thing to do. His hand on your waist moves up slightly, settling just beneath your ribs, grounding you as he tilts his head a fraction closer. “It’s not that hard, dumbass”

Your body feels like it’s caught in two different worlds—one of panic and another of dizzying anticipation. You’ve never been this close to anyone, let alone someone you’ve spent so much time despising. But there’s no mockery in his gaze now, no smug grin. Just a quiet, unspoken agreement between the two of you to get this over with.

The last thing you see before shutting your eyes are Scara’s lips, which fall gently open the moment he leans in to kiss yours.

Scaramouche closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant way. It’s not like you imagined a kiss would feel. It’s… gentle, almost patient, like he’s allowing you the time to catch up. His hand shifts, guiding you closer as the kiss deepens, but not by much—just enough to make the world outside of this moment blur.

Your body, tense from anticipation, crumbles into abandon. The beat of your heart is too loud in your chest, emotions lodged in your throat, and soft dark hair curling through the spaces between your fingers.

You find yourself following his lead without thinking, your fingers tightening slightly against the back of his neck as you lean into the kiss. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s almost like he’s teaching you without words, each movement purposeful but slow, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm you. It’s a contrast to his usual demeanor, where he seemed like he was always one step ahead. He seemed so out of reach.

But now here he was, barely an inch away from you and letting you catch up.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only by a few inches, and his gaze lingers on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You’re too stunned to respond right away, the world around you coming back into focus in slow motion. The water, the cold air, the fact that this was all supposed to be for show. But for a moment, you’d forgotten that.

“No,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess not.”

“Your lips were chapped,” Scaramouche adds with a smirk, because of course he does. The teasing lilt in his voice grates on you, breaking the moment that had felt so strangely…intimate.

Without hesitation, you flick his forehead, the satisfying thunk earning a small grunt from him. Before he can retaliate, you quickly slide off his lap, distancing yourself in the water. The warmth of the hot tub is nothing compared to the heat still lingering on your face.

“That was GREAT,” Yae’s voice screeches through the intercom, cutting through the awkwardness like a knife. “THAT TWITTER USER CAN EAT MY ASS!”

You can practically see her smug grin, and it makes you groan internally. Great. Now your first kiss is going to be broadcast as a PR stunt to shut down rumors. You shift uncomfortably, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest—annoyance, disbelief, and something you can’t quite place. Your lips still tingle from the kiss that wasn’t even supposed to happen.

Yae gives the signal that they’ve got the footage they need so you get ready to leave. As you move to climb out of the tub, Scaramouche stays behind, seemingly unfazed. You’re doing your best to ignore him, but his voice cuts through the steam and your scattered thoughts.

“It doesn’t have to count.”

You pause, turning your head slightly. “What?”

“The kiss,” he says, his tone almost casual, like this whole conversation is no big deal. “If first kisses are something stupid you care about… this one doesn’t have to count.”

You blink at him, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”

Scaramouche’s gaze flickers over to you, his face unreadable but his voice softening just a bit. “Your real first kiss can be with someone you actually care about. Doesn’t have to be this.” He gestures vaguely between you two, as if the kiss you just shared is nothing more than a contractual obligation—just part of the game. Which it was. But at the end of the day it was still your first kiss.

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the words he just said, of the way his tone has softened like he’s actually trying to spare you something for once.

“It was still my first,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

Scaramouche's eyes flicker, a shadow of something crossing his face before his expression hardens again. He leans his head back against the edge of the tub, arms crossing over his chest. “Look,” he starts, his voice dropping to that low, lazy tone he uses when he’s about to say something he knows is going to piss you off. “I know I’m an asshole most of the time—”

“Most of the time?” you cut in, eyebrow raised.

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat in it. “Shut up and let me finish, will you?”

You bite back the retort bubbling in your throat, nodding slightly for him to continue.

“I’m an asshole, yeah,” he says again, a little slower this time. “But I’m not that much of an asshole. If… if this is something that matters to you, then don’t let it. You can still have your real first kiss with someone who—” He hesitates, eyes shifting to the side for a second, and you could swear you see the faintest hint of uncertainty in his gaze before he forces it away. “—someone who means something to you.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick and heavy with something unspoken. You can’t tell if he’s saying it because he genuinely believes it or if he’s just trying to make this whole mess easier for you. Either way, it’s not like him to care, and that fact alone makes your chest tighten with confusion. Maybe he just pitied you.

“Anyway, don’t get all emotional about it,” he adds, his voice back to its usual flippant tone. “I’m not gonna hold your hand through it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you snap back, but there’s no bite to your words. Instead, you’re left with the lingering thought of what he just said, the weight of his strange attempt at comfort settling in your chest.

Before you can say anything else, Scaramouche pushes himself up from the water, his hands gripping the edge of the tub as he turns his back to you. “Let’s just get out of here before Yae comes up with another stupid idea.”

This was what you’d expected. Scaramouche being uncomfortable with you both being so close and you feeling sick at the thought. There was a kind of comfort in predictability, and you and Scara’s relationship was so goddamn predictable.

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, tell us all about that little kiss that got leaked!

SCARAMOUCHE: It was alright. YAE: [GESTURES FOR HIM TO KEEP GOING]

SCARAMOUCHE: It was great and…[SQUINTS AT SIGN YAE IS HOLDING] life changing, their lips were soft as flower petals and…Yae this is stupid, I’m not reading this. Who wrote this? It’s terrible.

YAE: I wrote it! It’s romantic!

SCARAMOUCHE: It’s gross. Who the hell describes a kiss like this?

JEAN, SIGHING: Why don’t you use your own words to describe it? SCARAMOUCHE: Fake.

JEAN: Cut!

[00:17:38] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

YAE: Let’s try this again. Can you describe the kiss in your own words?

SCARAMOUCHE: It wasn’t planned, okay? It just…I don’t know.

YAE: That’s all you’re giving us? C’mon, this is your big moment. Tell the fans something juicy!

SCARAMOUCHE: [EXHALES SHARPLY, LOOKS AWAY] I don’t know… I guess I… I feel bad about it.

YAE: Bad? Why would you feel bad? Was the kiss not good?

SCARAMOUCHE: [RUNS A HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR, HESITATES] I’m not the kind of guy people would want their first kiss with. And, yeah… it was their first. I know it was supposed to be this whole act, but I… I shouldn’t have taken that from them, not like that.

YAE: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] So, you actually care?

SCARAMOUCHE: [AVERTS EYES] Care? I… [PAUSES] No. Maybe. It just wasn’t fair to them, that’s all.

LISA: When you say “not like that” do you mean you wished you’d kissed them in a different setting?

SCARAMOUCHE: [GLARES AT LISA] I’m not answering something stupid as that.

YAE: Oh, come on! This is what everyone wants to know. Don’t you think the fans deserve a little honesty?

SCARAMOUCHE: [CROSSES HIS ARMS] I’ve given you plenty. I already told you, it wasn’t fair to them. Isn’t that enough?

LISA: [SMILING] Just admit it—you’re dodging because you actually feel something.

SCARAMOUCHE: [LEANS BACK, SIGHING] Look, if you’re expecting some big confession, you’re wasting your time. It was a job. That’s it.

YAE: [SHARING A SMIRK WITH LISA] Right, because I also kiss my coworkers passionately all in the name of “just doing my job.”

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

YAE: Alright, Y/N, let’s dive in!

Y/N: [FROWNS AT CARD] Why does the thingy say kiss this time?

YAE: Because we all want to know what went down in the hot tub with Scara!

Y/N: [SQUINTS AT YAE'S SIGN] I can’t even read the script you’re holding. My eyesight’s terrible. Does that seriously say, “His lips felt like heaven?”

YAE: [GRINNING] Yes! It’s good, right? Very romantic!

Y/N: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] Romantic? It sounds like something out of a cheap romance novel.

YAE: [GIGGLING] Well, Scara said my writing was terrible too. You two are totally synced, it seems.

JEAN: [SIGHS AND PLACES HER HEAD IN HER HANDS] We might be here a while…

YAE: Cut! Alright, let’s reset. [DEEP BREATH] Take two.

[00:05:43] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE TWO

YAE: [ROLLING HER EYES] Okay, just… talk about how hot his body was or something. Give the fans what they want!

Y/N: [STRAIGHT-FACED] I’d rather not.

LISA: [GIGGLES] Then maybe just tell us what it was like losing your first kiss to him.

JEAN: Lisa! That’s kind of insensitive…

Y/N: [SHRUGS] It’s fine. Surprisingly, I’m not that mad about it. I’ve known Scara for years, so… at least it wasn’t with some stranger.

YAE: [GIGGLING, LEANING IN] So… was it any good?

Y/N: [ROLLS EYES] I mean, I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to.

YAE: [TEASING] So you’re saying he set the bar?

Y/N: [CROSSES ARMS, SHRUGS] I’m saying I survived. Let’s leave it at that.

JEAN: [UNDER HER BREATH] Why do I feel like we’re making this worse?

LISA: [CHUCKLING] Because we probably are.

[00:00:00] BEACH INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, Childe, tell us—how are you enjoying the beach so far? Getting some time to unwind?

CHILDE: [SMILING] Yeah, it’s been nice. But it’s a little too quiet without Scara and Y/N bickering in the background. You’d think I’d enjoy the peace, but… kinda miss the chaos, you know?

YAE: [CHUCKLES] Oh? Seems like you got used to it. How’s everyone managing without Scara?

CHILDE: Well, he was the best cook, surprisingly. So now everyone’s struggling. Dinner last night was... [SHUDDERS] Let’s just say nobody knew how to work the stove.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Sounds rough. So, I have to ask—any romance brewing in the group?

CHILDE: [GRINS, LEANS IN] Between you and me, I keep seeing Xiao and Kazuha sneaking off for these little “walks” along the shore. But hey, maybe they’re just out there for a smoke or something.

JEAN: [OFF-CAMERA, SIGHS] Childe, don’t bring up smoking!

CHILDE: Right, right! I mean, they’re, uh… stargazing. Totally innocent. Just two guys appreciating the stars.

YAE: Cut!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

lmk if the written portion below pic helped, if i’m able to fit in it i’ll include it from now on

a few tags don’t work anymore so if u wanna be in the taglist lmk in the comments and ill keep it in mind

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i rlly do wanna update more but college is kicking my ass so pls be patient with me :’) my semester ends in a few weeks and then next spring my classes won’t end at 7pm every night so i should have more free time 🙂‍↕️

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc

#stuck with you smau #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you #kunikuzushi smau #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x male reader

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keyotos · 1 year ago

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well aware, you are always mine

summary ⎯ bf headcanons w/ hsr men!!

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, jing yuan

tana's thoughts ⎯ keyotos being active and writing?!!!?!!?!?!

dan heng

⎯ TOTAL acts of service bf. cuts fruit for you, organizes your closet with you, helps you rearrange ur bookshelf. like all of that. he is ur #1 helper in all situations and is probably the most reliable person u know. if ur ever having problems, you always call dan heng bc he always solves them for you

⎯ considerate bf. listens to all ur song recommendations and also your book recommendations. never takes your word with a grain of salt (most of the time)

⎯ not a big fan of shopping trips, but will go with you anyway. he will carry all your bags and help you pick out clothes. AND HE WILL GIVE U ACTUAL FREAKING ADVICE INSTEAD OF BEING LIKE, "it all looks good on you."

⎯ like dan heng will pull up with, "that color washes you out," or, "that does not match your color pallete at all." he's detailed wit it too?? the only reason why he knows all of this is bc he pays attention to you.

you see something you like? let's find it in that color that matches w/ ur fav pants so you can wear it all the time. don't worry, i already found it.

you look dissatisfied? dan heng thinks he knows why: you think it won't look good. oh, he was right? well, he can help you style it in a way for it to look good. you can wear that with the shirt you like so much, with some added jewelry, of course.

⎯ does not spend ANY TIME in his room (but who could rlly blame him). he's always in yours and he's lying down in your bed. he takes the phrase, "make yourself at home," to another level. but i guess he gets a pass bc you literally are his home.

⎯ he's sarcastic asl. since his guard is down with you, there's not really a need to maintain seriousness at all times. his dry and sarcastic humor really comes out when you're around him specifically. dating dan heng would make u a victim of the sassy men apocalypse.

⎯ dan heng is the type of person to stare at you lovingly (like HEART EYES are coming out) while you guys are taking a photo together. and you wouldn't even know until you saw the photo. like picture this: you are over here smiling and being cute or whateva. and then dan heng is there. he's obliviously staring at you: like how the light perfectly bounces off your face and how perfectly your eyes crinkle when you smile.

⎯ when he feels secure around you, he is the definition of lovesick. longing stares from far away (even tho ur dating)? yes. touchy (you make sure to tease him about it)? yes. buries his head in the nape of your neck? duh. like he is the whole package and he can never seem to let you go... like ever. you are constantly stuck in his head and also his body.

gepard

⎯ hilariously bad at taking pictures. like you tell him to get one angle and he gets the exact opposite angle. manages to always catch you off guard in every. single. picture. his excuse for this is, "but you look good in all of them :/"

⎯ when he gets super tired after work, sometimes when he gets home and finishes showering/etc, he just flops onto u. like. literally flops onto you. you're always shocked at first, but you move him into a position where he can comfortably sleep (and hold you) in and then you relax. he always apologizes for it later in the morning and makes sure to shower you in more affection than last night, but you always reassure him that it's fine.

it's only bc u take the time to take equally bad photos of him #payback.

⎯ you have to water his plants for him. we all saw this coming. but on the bright side, that means ur home more often!! and when you greet him on the couch after a long day... like you've never heard a deeper sigh of relief before. doesn't collapse on you like other days (thankfully). you two just spend the night eating dinner on the couch and watching reality tv. sometimes, when you fall asleep on the couch, gepard always brings a blanket from your bedroom and drapes it over you. and then he carries you into bed.

⎯weirdly good at cracking your back for you. like if he wasn't the captain of the silvermane guards, he could very well be a freaking chiropractor. like he knows all the right joints to pop, all the right places to put his hands, and all the right places to press down. and it feels SO GOOD. you've never asked him about it.

⎯ gets you really cute and considerate gifts since he isn't around a lot. sometimes gets lynx to deliver them for him. and they're always paired with your favorite flowers too. all his gifts r things that he remembered you liked/wanted (new shampoo brand, new book pela recommended, new plants).

⎯ still asks if you wanna go out even if you two have been dating long term. like he would text you and be like, "would you like to go out with me for coffee," all formal and wtv, and you would respond like, "gepard we have been dating for five years. you do not need to ask."

he would get all flustered when you would bring it up at the coffee shop. pays for your coffee so you could forget about it (you don't: you tease him endlessly).

⎯ learns other things for you. he's dedicated and loyal to you like how a soldier is dedicated to their general. if you wanted a specific kind of dish, gepard would learn how to create it. if you wanted to learn how to plant certain seeds, gepard would run to the florist (and pela) to ask for many tips. if you spoke a different language, gepard would be running to duolingo.

though there is always his duty, a part of his heart and soul will always belong to you.

blade

⎯ contrary to gepard, takes the BEST FUCKING PHOTOS of you. he should be a professional photographer or something because, all the photos he takes, makes you look like a MODEL. he gets all the angles perfectly right + he always makes sure the lighting looks good. and u look back at all the photos he took and ur jaw is DROPPED

⎯ hates going outside x goes outside 24/7. you're big on exploration and fun while blade wants to lie low. but either way, you two manage to have fun in your own respective ways. blade watches you from a distance (of 1 foot) and only intervenes if he needs to. other than that, you drag him around the entire place. he is not complaining: one stupid and cheeky grin from you, and blade realizes he is an absolute goner.

⎯ a little too supportive. it's a good thing in all aspects except for one: making decisions. this mf is like, "whatever you do, i fully support your decision." BUT THE PROBLEM IS THAT YOU CANNOT MAKE A DECISION. THAT'S WHY UR ASKING HIM.

⎯ this problem comes up very often during shopping trips. where dan heng excels at shopping trips, blade... not so much. blade is the type of bf to say, "everything looks good on you." but not bc he doesn't care enough: he genuinely thinks you look good in everything.

in his mind it's like: how could you think you look bad in that outfit when you are radiating luminosity from every crevice of the room??? does anyone else see that glow coming from you, or was it just him??

⎯ did not have a favorite color until you. he actually didn't have a lot of favorites before he met you. now his favorite color is blue (you like looking at the sky), his favorite scent is peach blossoms (the shampoo you use), and his favorite food is fried rice (it's the only thing you know how to make).

⎯ does ur hair for u. expert in hair care but it's not uncalled for (his only friends⎯not counting you⎯are silverwolf and kafka). you need to braid your hair? blade has already offered before u could even pull up a tutorial. a new cute hairstyle you wanted to try? don't worry, your boyfriend is there to help you part, section, and clip your hair.

⎯ pretends to give off big scary dog energy, in reality he is a small little lapdog. desires your love and affection so often. does not go out without you. grabs things n carries them to u like a cute little dog would. he's very devoted okay?? let him bring u stupid little trinkets and stay by ur side all the time.

⎯ you send him stupid ass memes all the time. one time u sent him one of those stupid 'good night' memes and he threatened to block you (lovingly). but he found that his reactions always make you laugh (and blade wants to keep you happy forever), so he just lets you send them to him atp. most nights, he sends a simple, "good night" text back. but when he wants to tease you, he sends a goodnight meme back.

⎯ those nights, he thinks that he hears your ecstatic giggles from down the hall. you sound so giddy that it makes his heart want to blow up. those are the good nights.

sampo

⎯ bro is mischievous. he leaves little sticky notes for you all around the house and makes it a game for u to find them. they're not even super important too they're just little things like, "i miss you," or, "did u find all the notes???"

⎯ but he knows you get bored easily, so he made those notes so that you could have something to do during the day. his intentions are adorably sweet, but his execution is so. um. A FOR EFFORT!

⎯ most of the stuff he gives you... hate to break it to u but they are usually stolen. if you choose to ignore that, great! most of the things he grabs are usually rare and u have no idea how he gets them. you swear he doesn't leave belobog, but some of the items he gifts you seem a little too... outlandish. but yk, it's the thought that counts!

⎯ manages to distract you from every single task. usually disruptive, but sometimes, very helpful. after an entire day of work, you can always come back home to where sampo is, because he will always find a way to distract you from whatever stress you have on your plate. whether it be cooking you dinner or simply talking you through his day, you always find yourself feeling slightly better around him.

⎯ has a good relationship with your family. yeah this was very unexpected on both ends. your parents love him: they love his humor and his looks and literally are charmed by him. even tho is a CON ARTIST. anyway. sampo loves your parents and messes around with you by calling them as their parental names (mom/dad). you are not amused.

⎯ grabs dinner before he comes back home. always manages to swing by a place you like and he always gets free food (you've gave up trying to question his methods). before, when he brought home food, it was usually a special occasion because he would never be home often. now, it's a common occurrence: he's wanted to be with you more, and now he brings home food every day.

jing yuan

⎯ the xianzhou's nagging king. this is not a good thing. he nags at you for a lot. did you take your allergy meds? did you eat breakfast today or just drink coffee? did you forget to clear out the pencils on your desk? he does it out of endearment. it does not make it less annoying (lies).

⎯ so accustomed to your little routines together that he can do it with his eyes closed. how do you want your tea? easy: he can list it within ten seconds. he can make it with his eyes closed. and he will always make it perfectly too.

⎯ lets you sleep on mimi (you could say you go mimimimi). not even gonna lie, sometimes he wishes he was mimi. you just sleep so peacefully on her, but you refuse to sleep on jing yuan. you make up stupid excuses like, "your bicep is going to be numb by the time we wake up." but that is simply not true (it is).

⎯ favorite times of day are when it's night. okay that didn't make any sense but he really just likes spending the night with you. it's quiet and the world is much less loud, and it feels like being with you redefined the definition of happiness. everything is so much more peaceful, and plus, you were there.

⎯ being a cloud knight general has its negative aspects. so, much like gepard, he would probably also crash into bed with you at night. but this time, he doesn't need you to move him, because he traps you in between his arms every. damn. time. it's like this man cannot fall asleep without you.

⎯ sitting down with him is like a chore. if you two are sitting down, jing yuan likes to grab your legs and move them onto himself, so you two would be closer. this isn't just on the sofa, by the way. armchairs, conference chairs, office chairs. the chairs don't even have to be connected. he'll just find a way to connect you two anyway.

⎯ you are the first person he looks for in a crowded room. in a place full of people, jing yuan's eyes will only scan for you. his height makes it easier to do so btw. but anyway, you are someone of great importance to him. he doesn't want to lose you like how he lost so many. and when he finds you, it's like the sun shines directly on you: it's always a surreal sight when jing yuan sees you, because he always thinks the sun has risen.

⎯ it hasn't. he was always looking at you.

AND GOOD NIGHT. jfc.

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #gepard x reader #gepard x you #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #sampo x reader #sampo x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #i forgot how fun it is to write hcs #i didn't put much thought into these which i kinda miss ngl

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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Text

tight knit | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

spa 2021, where a knitting hobby comes in handy

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 401,874 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: hello spa !! one of my fave tracks and i'm so excited for this weekend AND for those who asked, here's my current project, it's a sweater :)))))))

view all comments

user1: oh to receive pics of charles like that

user2: i love how she's like here's my fine ass bf but more importantly here's my update on my knitting

danielricciardo: is the man on the second slide single?

yourusername: HE'S MINE BACK OFF (p.s. i love you dan, but don't joke about that shit i have approximately 200 teenagers in my dms threatening violence everyday over him)

charles_leclerc: cherie, i didn't know that :(

yourusername: i'd fight all of them and more for your hand

charles_leclerc: my knight in shining armour

danielricciardo: okay i was trying to make a joke, it was not an invitation to prove how in love you guys are we get it

user3: i too wish i had a bf rich enough that i could travel and knit full time

pierregasly: have a day off for once

yourusername: keep on like that and you'll never get that panda

pierregasly: but you promised !!!!!

yourusername: be nice then

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,208,760 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: calm before the storm at spa

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user4: now where does y/n get all of these cut head accessories?

yourusername: vinted babes

user5: we love a thrifty queen

user6: storm meaning driving the ferrari shit box

yourusername: wow you look great, banishing me to the row behind you just to take this photo was defo worth it

charles_leclerc: you were there for two mins max then you sat with me stop these false narratives

yourusername: lies it was five minutes cause you didn't like the angle

charles_leclerc: i want to look handsome is that too much to ask

yourusername: you're always pretty baby

user7: can they stop like i am so lonely i can't see this

carlossainz55: let it be known that the only way charles can beat me in chess is with y/n's help

yourusername: nooooooo i never helped i was knitting

charles_leclerc: i wasn't cheating !! y/n was just being nice to me

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 708,954 others

tagged: yourusername

f1: well, that's one way to spend qualifying's red flag. y/n y/ln spent her time in the ferrari garage working on her knitwear.

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user10: she said in her spa post it's a jumper i hope it's for charles

yourusername: it is, lord knows that boy needs all the help he can get in the wardrobe department

charles_leclerc: rude !!!! you never say anything

yourusername: you're always so proud i can't tell you it's bad

charles_leclerc: life ruined

yourusername: but you're so pretty no one cares about your criminal trouser collection

charles_leclerc: back handed compliment, but a compliment nonetheless

user11: she's so unbothered i love her

alexalbon: okay but when is my jumper coming @yourusername i ordered it last month

yourusername: it's coming i swear !!!

alexalbon: you let charles skip the line again didn't you

yourusername: maybe ...

yourusername

liked by lilymunhe, charles_leclerc and 481,056 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: hoping for a drier sunday, drowned rat is definitely not my aesthetic

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user12: the first picture i am going to rip my skin off

charles_leclerc: is this the appropriate time to say save a horse ride a cowboy?

pierregasly: this is why ferrari is a red flag

yourusername: howdy

pierregasly: you people are gross

charles_leclerc: you talk about ur dick at any give opportunity

yourusername: and no one actually calls you tripod

user13: damn.... couples that drag together stay together

pierregasly: ok. i will refrain from talking about your sex life publicly.

user14: i love that y/n posts about knitting just as much as she posts about charles.

yourusername: charles is the side chick

charles_leclerc: it's true i've been told to roll over in bed to make more room for the yarn

f1wagsupdates

liked by user15, user16 and 2,304 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: appreciation post for my favourite wag !!

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user17: i want to be her when i grow up

user18: i need her hair care routine asap

user19: can we stop putting these women on a pedestal for like no good reason?

user20: usually i'd agree but y/n has nothing but kind and a good role model, so if you idolise one wag it might as well be her

user21: her style is so underrated

user22: i need the jacket in the third slide

scuderiaferrari

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 770,984 others

tagged: yourusername, charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari: there's two types of people during a red flag at spa

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user23: they're so precious to me

charles_leclerc: i wish i could relax that much in the ferrari garage

yourusername: i am not relaxed, i am actually the most stressed, i just hide it well

charles_leclerc: maybe we'll confiscate the needles for the actual races

yourusername: probably the only wise strategy in that garage

user24: i love how y/n keeps going for ferrari's neck and charles just can't reply

carlossainz55: it's so cold can i get my christmas jumper order early @yourusername ?

yourusername: that's a big queue to skip chilli i'm not sure i can comply with that

carlossainz55: if i changed my name to charles would this change?

yourusername: maybe 🤔

user25: the sky camera is obsessed with her and i am exactly the same thank you for the content

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 508,673 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: it's a bit cold in spa so charlie's new jumper (just finished) is coming in handy straight away

view all comments

user26: LORD PLEASE I HAVE SEEN WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS

user27: okay this is cute and all, but DAMN that jumper is so fucking cute y/n is so talented

charles_leclerc: i think the phrase is: came in clutch

yourusername: you're welcome baby

charles_leclerc: i retract my previous statement about confiscating the knitting needles and i will give up more space in bed for the yarn if this is what i get

yourusername: not us having a polyamorous relationship with KNITTING

user28: so like i need y/n to open up a shop

alexalbon: i hope mine comes next

yourusername: i'm on it already albono

lilymunhe: on his jumper or the one for me that he asked for

yourusername: yours obvs

alexalbon: mugged off again

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,409,874 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: words cannot describe how much i love you (and your knitting). as george would say i am snug as a bug in a rug and it's all thanks to you

view all comments

user29: SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG CHARLES WHO ARE YOU

yourusername: can they start the race so we can go be snug as a bug in a rug back at the hotel?

charles_leclerc: omw to the fia hq rn

yourusername: thanks baby

georgerussell63: i thought this was my job but thanks charles i guess

charles_leclerc: man of the people and the cuddles

user30: lord i am so lonely

danielricciardo: y/n x enchante collab when?

yourusername: coming to mclaren rn

charles_leclerc: so my cuddles mean nothing?

yourusername: have you seen this man's pricing we'll be rich baby

charles_leclerc: we are rich baby

note: pls enjoy, requests may take a while cause your girl managed to break her finger lol

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc instagram au

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months ago

Text

awkward || keira walsh x reader ||

Keira likes you, but doesn't really know what to do about it.

Keira watched from the sideline as you juggled the ball around. Grace and Ella were cheering you on, your former Manchester teammates eager to see you set a new personal record for yourself. The media cameras were also on you, and Keira was glad that she was far enough away to not get caught staring. At least that was what she had thought.

"Oh God, don't tell me that you're staring at (Y/n) again!" Georgia exclaimed as Leah laughed. Both women had been watching Keira stare at you, and they both took note of the blush on Keira's cheeks at being caught.

Truthfully, neither of them minded Keira's crush on you. Since the breakup with Lucy, both Georgia and Leah had been worried about Keira. There had been a few dates with different girls that Keira had mentioned in passing, but nothing that ever stuck. Leah was kind of glad that nobody really managed to hold Keira's interest for too long, not when you were also very single.

"You should talk to her mate," Leah suggested. Keira dismissed Leah's comment with a scoff. You and Keira had known each other for years now. Your homes had been within walking distance in Manchester, although, Keira had been with Lucy during that time.

"No way, Keira would never talk to (Y/n). She's way too awkward," Georgia pointed out. Leah laughed at that, unable to argue against the shorter woman. On paper, you and Keira couldn't have been much more different from one another. However, Leah knew that your differences would help to balance each other out.

"Not to mention that (Y/n) is very obviously with Grace. I mean, look at them," Keira said. She hoped that would be enough to get them off of her case, but instead, it caused both of her friends to start laughing. "What's so funny?"

"That would be like us dating, you dummy!" Leah exclaimed.

"Whatever, let's just drop this," Keira huffed. Georgia and Leah shared a look as they let Keira walk off ahead of them. There was still a bit left to do at practice, and Keira kept her distance from her friends. That wouldn't have been an issue if you didn't assume that Keira was just the odd man out and paired yourself up with her.

"So, um, Sarina said that everyone needs a partner for the next drill, and it looks like Georgia and Leah are already together. I don't know if you were planning on going to Lucy or not, but Grace hates doing this drill with me. Do you think that maybe we could work together?" Keira had no idea why you were so nervous to speak with her. She knew that she didn't have the friendliest of personalities, but you didn't act that way with anybody else. If Keira hadn't completely convinced herself that you liked Grace, she would have thought you liked her.

"That's fine. Trust me, there's nobody worse to do this with than Lucy. I was her training partner for years," Keira joked. You let out a small laugh, glad that Lucy and LJ had already paired up with each other. Almost all morning, several of your friends had been trying to get you to talk to Keira. Ella and Millie were on the verge of just making a literal sign for Keira to ask you out on a date. They were sick of watching you just stare at her longingly and knew that if she transferred to the WSL, it would only get worse.

The two of you didn't talk much, but Keira found herself utterly lost a couple of times. It wasn't her fault, not really. The sunlight just happened to hit you at the perfect angle several times during the exercise. Keira knew that she was on the verge of ruining her starting spot if she didn't clean her act up around you, but you made it so difficult for her to focus on anything.

"Nice passing," Beth teased as she nudged Keira. Keira was about to open up her mouth and say something when you stepped in between them. Beth was nice, and you knew that she didn't mean it as more than a little rib, but you still felt a little surge of protectiveness over Keira.

"She is one of the best passers on the team. Who knows how wide I'd be going on a daily basis if not for Keira showing me pointers." You put your arm around Keira's shoulders. All you were paying attention to was Keira, so you missed the way that Lucy and some of the others were quietly making fun of you. Lucy knew about Keira's feelings for you, and she knew that it would be a death sentence to openly pick on you in front of the midfielder for any reason. "Thanks Kei, I'm really lucky to get to play with you."

"Y-yeah, no problem." Keira tried to seem confident, but she faltered. Beth rolled her eyes and walked away as Keira muttered under her breath, "You're so cute."

"What was that? Sorry, the pollen is making my ears feel a bit plugged up," you said. Keira's face turned red immediately, and for a moment, she thought that she was in for it.

"I, uh, I said you look like a boot," Keira blurted out. Your face fell a bit as you sat with her words. It had to be an insult, but it wasn't a very good one. You had heard Keira effortlessly knock people down a few pegs, so you knew that couldn't have been what she really said.

"Um, okay then…" you trailed off awkwardly. You began to rescind your arm from around her shoulders, but Keira stopped you.

"Wait! That wasn't what I said. I said that you were cute because you're really cute, and I like you a lot. Maybe when there's a break in schedules, we can meet up somewhere and go out."

"Are you asking me out, Keira Walsh?" you asked. You couldn't believe it, not really. Keira had been one of your biggest crushes since you signed to Manchester City's youth team. Georgia had finally stopped being teased as the fangirl when the girls noticed your very obvious crush on the very taken Keira Walsh. Now, things were different, and it seemed that she was the awkward one between the two of you.

"I am? Yeah, I am asking you out. I like you a lot, and I'm willing to work through a lot of things to give this a shot. So, I really hope that you think about what I've asked you, and get back to me," Keira said. You bit your lip as you pulled her in close. Keira looked a bit surprised as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, but she didn't say anything about it.

"Grace is spending the night with Alessia, Ella, Mary, and Millie, so my room is open. I'm not saying that we, you know, do anything, but you should come over and watch movies with me. There's a horror marathon on tonight, and I just hate watching scary movies all by myself." The last bit had been a bit of a lie, but you wouldn't let such a good opportunity to have Keira over and cuddling with you go to waste.

"I'll be there right after dinner," Keira promised you. You beamed at that, and gave her one more kiss on the cheek before racing off to the showers.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #keira walsh x reader #keira walsh imagine

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yuwuta · 1 month ago

Text

I HAD TO HAVE THIS TALK WITH YOU, CAUSE I’D HATE TO HAVE TO ACT A FOOL — MEGUMI FUHSIGURO

cw this exists in the same rich kids/boarding school au as this piece, which are slowly forming their own universe, implied (past) drug use/underage drinking, more of megumi being your guard dog everybody cheer

Megumi scowls as yet another phone call goes to voicemail. He’s been standing outside the racetrack for fifteen minutes, watching Yuuji absolutely pummel Aoi in polo, and waiting for you. He huffs, just as Yuuji loudly celebrates another point, thumbing a text to Yuuta, asking if he’s seen you all morning. Yuuji claimed you’d left him all by himself after your shared morning class, Nobara was still in Switzerland, and Tsumiki also seemed to be ignoring his messages.

He needed answers, and quickly, because this is the free period that Muta and his goons also have free, and he would hate to go back on his promise to stop egging him so soon after you’d asked him so sweetly to knock it off.

Yuuta (received 12:57pm) — She’s fine, Tsumiki and I are with her. Picnic tables outside of the building 703. — Warning, your least favorite upperclassmen are here too, but don’t make a scene. They’re annoying, but not trouble yet.

Megumi squints, turning on his heels towards the large building opposite the racetracks. As he rounds the side that opens into a field, formally known as one the many lawns dedicated in the Gojo family’s name, and informally revered as your favorite lunchtime spot, he hears the familiar sound of Tsumiki’s laughter, and the unpleasant squawking of his least favorite upperclassmen.

Seeing you, Yuuta, and Tsumiki sitting at the picnic bench under the blooming wisteria was business as usual; seeing Hakari and another senior infiltrating the seating arrangement was not. Megumi frowns, strolling up to the table to halt the conversation when he’s noticed by you, and sized up by the upperclassman.

“Oh, uh—hey, I—good afternoon, Fushiguro!” the other senior has the decency to greet him, stumbling with their overly-chipper tone. Megumi eyes them and blinks. Their face is a familiar shadow to Hakari’s, but he never could recall their name, no matter how many times he had the displeasure of running into the duo.

“It was,” Megumi drawls. He turns his head to face you again, “You’re late.”

From this angle, you have to tilt your head up to make eye contact with him. There’s an innocence behind your eyes, genuine warning, weary concern; and still, so beautiful it makes Megumi’s thoughts venture elsewhere—only for a moment; he supposes he should be grateful for Hakari’s presence, just this once, because the interjection of his grating voice pulls Megumi back to reality.

“Relax, Fushiguro, we were all just talking, having a good time,” Hakari whistles, a dirty grin on his lips, “Ain’t that right, Kirara?”

Ah, Kirara. That’s their name. Megumi doesn’t have time to mull it over, or pretend to commit it to memory; the majority of his energy is focused on preventing himself from throwing a punch. Briefly, he makes eye-contact with Tsumiki, a silent warning in her eyes to not be violent; so Megumi looks to the other side of the table at Yuuta, whose hollow eyes are apologetic, but cautious. Megumi can tell they’ve both been doing their best to neutralize the conversation before he arrived, without setting off your own alarm bells.

They’ve been patient, but he won’t be: “Get lost, Hakari.”

“Whoah, no need to rush things. Come on, I didn’t even get a chance to invite you to our party yet,” Hakari’s grin widens, “I just figured I’d get your owner on board before I pet the puppy, yeah?”

Tsumiki and Yuuta share a look. Megumi bares teeth to growl, rests his palms on the picnic table and leans over to deliver his message again, “Get lost.”

“Kin, don’t be so rude!” Megumi can hear Kirara’s teeth chattering beside him, a chittering voice attempting to cut through the tension, “What—what he means is that you’re all invited, really!”

Megumi turns his head, not to acknowledge Kirara or to back down to Hakari, but to look at you. He knows that you know that there are three options to how this ends, and given that he’s already got a strike in your book for bullying Kokichi, and that Yuuta’s route would cause significantly more drama than his, he’s hoping you’ll settle this yourself.

He tilts his head just enough, raised eyebrows in warning and wait; and then, you give a conceding blink, a small sigh, part your lips to speak, still looking at Megumi when you say: “Hakari, Kirara, you two should grab lunch. They’re going to stop serving the hot food soon.”

A command hidden as a suggestion. It makes the upperclassmen scowl, but still Hakari motions across the table to Kirara, and they both gather their belongings. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “You know where to find us when you want to have some real fun.”

Hakari flashes you a wink over his shoulder before he and Kirara make their way around the building and towards the main dining hall. When they’re out of earshot, you smile, look away from Megumi, and back down to your lunch, grabbing the single, wrapped daifuku and tearing open the packaging, before looking back up to him with a smile, “Well, have a seat, Megumi. Join us.”

Megumi scoffs, standing up straight again, “You’re supposed to be in a meeting with Gojo right now.”

“I already had Yuuta do my bidding this morning, because he was so sweet to wake up before noon,” you reply, taking the desert out of the plastic, flashing Yuuta a brief smile before looking up to him again, “So I told him lunch was on me, and we ran into Tsumiki on our way. It’s so nice out, isn’t it? Come on, sit with us, enjoy the weather. Yuuta was telling us about the new coup he bought.”

Tsumiki chimes in about her lunch, looking over at Yuuta’s half-eaten tray and wishing she’d got beef instead of chicken. He offers her what’s left of his plate, and she politely declines, before Yuuta insists, pushing his food across the table to her, and you pitch in, putting the remainder of your sauce next to her. The three of you seem to easily pick up where your conversation was presumably before Hakari and Kirara crashed your lunch.

Megumi’s scowl deepens. He knows that you know that he wants to know why Hakari and Kirara were here in the first place, he knows that you know that their party invitation was just a scheme to get you into trouble and get a rise out of him, he knows that you know he’s going to kick their asses six ways to Sunday unless you tell him not you.

“Megumi,” you cut through his thoughts, words noticeably heavier, “Sit.”

He rolls his tongue in his cheek, and you squint a bit, tilting your head to motion to the empty space beside you on the bench. You only spare him a sharp glance, before giving your attention back to Tsumiki, clapping happily as she shows you something she bought on her phone.

With a huff, Megumi rounds the table, sets his bag down on the soft grass and swings his legs over the bench and next to you. Tsumiki turns her phone to Yuuta, and your attention is back to Megumi, breaking your daifuku in half and offering a piece to him. He puts an elbow on the table, leans his cheek into his palm, a defiant expression on his face you pay no mind to—you scrunch your nose with a deceptive smile, bringing the mochi to his lips, and opening your mouth mockingly for him to follow. He blinks at you, slowly; once, twice, a third time before his head dips every so slightly, mouth a jar, letting you place the dessert between his teeth. Only after he has it in his mouth do you begin to eat your half, sparing a hand to raise your arm and pat the top of his head, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Megumi tilts his head further into his palm. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“When you called, I was eating lunch. It’s rude to take calls when you have company,” you defend yourself.

“Yuuta answered my texts.”

“Yuuta is scared of you,” you chirp, “And unlike you, he cares to not have write-ups on his transcript. He keeps his physical encounters off-campus.”

“I am not scared of Megumi,” Yuuta scoffs, leaning over to poke at your forehead, “I’m scared of Tsumiki. And I did not want to be scolded for getting blood on her new Chanel skirt.”

Between the two of them, Yuuta was certainly the more reformed one; it only took one incident of Tsumiki pulling at his ear and scolding him about using his words instead of his fists for him to actually listen to her. Megumi couldn’t blame him, Tsumiki was hellish when she was truly angry, and he feared Tsumiki as much as the next person, but he also knew how she had a soft spot for her younger brother; a mercy that Yuuta, Yuuji, and Nobara were not privy to when their violent streaks got the best of them.

Besides, when Tsumiki couldn’t get to him, you were there to tug on his leash and reign him in.

“Wimp,” Tsumiki coughs, “And simp,” she taunts her brother, “We ought to pick new bodyguards in our next life.”

You laugh softly at her teasing, but still, you rest your elbow on the table to mirror Megumi’s position, “You’re right. I call dibs on Yuuji.”

Your joke makes the others laugh, and Megumi rolls his eyes as you all chuckle. Still, he shifts to lean his head against your shoulder, sly as he knocks his head against your neck and reminds you of a simple fact: “That’s too bad. You’re stuck with me, in this life and the next.”

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alastor-x-reader-stories · 2 months ago

Text

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 2

You....really shouldn't have bitten Alastor.

It was a threat, yep, and the guy did need to learn his actions had consequences, but...er. Was that really worth this?

The Radio Demon had practically been your shadow for the past week. His expression never changed, his tone never shifted. You were like, 90 percent sure he was thinking of the best way to kill you for maximum pain.

Pain wasn't good. You were allergic to it.

...That line usually got a chuckle out of whoever heard it, or in your case, whenever you thought it. However, this time, it didn't quite tickle your funny bone as it usually did.

Because Alastor was standing right there.

And staring at you.

In your goddam bedroom.

"....Hi." You said, chewing on your bottom lip.

Alastor's gaze darted for a second to your lip, then back to your eyes. And he said nothing.

"...Did you need something?" You said.

He continued to stare at you, unblinking.

You sighed "Listen, if you're going to kill me can you just hurry up already? I'm sure it beats how awkward this is."

Other than the slightest twitch of an ear, he still didn't respond.

You huffed, narrowing your eyes as a growl permeated through the air. "At least say something!"

He didn't.

"OKay, fine!" You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air. You crossed them over your chest with a pout, giving Alastor a mean side-eye. "Keep standing there doing nothing. I guess I could use a new hat rack anyway."

"...You don't have any hats?" He said, tilting his head to one side.

"I'll get some so I can justify having a hat rack." You said, tail flicking.

"Mhm... So, how sincere is this threat?"

"What?"

Alastor straightened his posture, taking a couple long strides to stand right at your bedside. "You make a lot of threats, my dear. And I've only ever seen you carry 1 out."

"Usually people listen to me." You said, rolling your eyes.

"So you've never actually follow through before?" He tilted his head to the opposite side than before. His grin seemed to stretched a bit, ears becoming less stiff.

"Does that make you happy?" You said, turning to face him "That you're the first idiot who made me actually do something?"

From how he practically beamed you can only assume it did. You sighed, flopping down onto the bed on your side. The intent was to ignore him until he got bored and went away or got sick of you and killed you.

Instead you found a shadowy tendril wrapping around your middle, rolling you onto your back. Alastor grinned down at you, his body a perfect 90-degree angle bent at the waist.

"I'm the first one you've bit?"

"...Yeah?" You said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean. I think I bit people when I was little and pretending I had rabies, but not really intending to hurt them..."

His grin widened. "How did I taste?"

...

"What."

"I want to know. How did I taste?"

Oh right he was a cannibal. You grimaced internally. Was that just something cannibals got giddy about? 'Hey I'm the first person you've eaten hurrah!'

The tendril around you gave a firm squeeze. You sighed and met Alastor's crimson eyes, giving him a flat look of your own.

"Dry and tough- like badly made jerky."

He laughed. "Well, of course! You bit into my jacket! Silly creature, you."

"....Well, you asked."

"That I did, that I did." Alastor hummed. He tilted his head too far to one side, leaning in closer to you "Would you care for a taste without my jacket?"

"No." You responded curtly.

The silence was palpable. Neither of you broke eye contact or changed your expressions for several moments. Those moments seemed very, very long.

His eye slowly twitched up and his ears dropped ever-so-slighty-

"Hm. Well, it's not like you'd manage that anyway."

"Probably not. Are we done?"

Another beat of silence passed before the shadows tendril dissolved into mist and Alastor was standing up straight again.

"Now, I wouldn't say this matter is done, but I suppose it could wait."

You sat up, staring at him. The more you stared, the more his eyes couldn't seem to decide on what to focus on. Was he...nervous?

That encounter didn't go anywhere else significant. He simply said a farewell and left you to your own devices.

===========

Your eye twitched as you took a long, deep breath.

Alastor was being so horribly, horribly annoying.

The last couple days he resumed his role as your shadow, but this time solely with the task of irritating you. He'd chew loudly, he'd step in an off-rhythm on purpose, he'd claw the surface of things you couldn't stand the sound of and it made your ears hurt and your jaw ache from how much you were grinding your teeth.

You had enough.

"Will you LEAVE ME ALONE!?" You snapped at him. He didn't so much as flinch, simply tilting his head and he leaned closer to you.

"Or what?"

"I'm going to shove your hooves so far up your ass you'll be coughing up horseshoes for a week-"

"I'm a deer, not a horse." He said, eyes crinkling up in amusement at your 'threat'.

You hissed out an agitated breath before taking a couple deep, long breaths and you felt your jaw lax (a little) and your temper die down a bit.

"...Yeah, you're right." You said after a moment "And I'm sorry. I didn't really have much of a reason to snap at you like that."

His eyes narrowed and you couldn't be bothered to wonder why. You said a curt goodbye and meandered off, feeling his eyes trained on your retreating form. You couldn't be bother to think about that, either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi it's me the writer. Letting you all know that this is not planned in the slightest and i'm just winging it. No smut will happen EVER though because I don't wanna write it. So kindly look elsewhere if that's what you want. I will put a poll here though with considerations for potential next installment

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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chaos-in-deepspace · 6 months ago

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LNDS Spicy Headcanons | 18+

Well I did generalized headcanons for the boys, now we need to get into the spice headcanons. Which honestly is one of my favorite things to write. I regret nothing when it comes to Rafayel's part.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: 18+ Headcanons, Cockwarming, Consensual Somnophilia, Sexting, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Bathtub Sex, Mentions of Oral (M!Receiving), Non-Human Anatomy

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

One of the kinkiest men you will ever meet. Is willing to try everything at least once if given the option. The worst part is he doesn't seem like the type at all until you're in the bedroom with him and you realize you might be in danger.

He is normally on top, but doesn't mind being a switch, especially when he's tired. If you want to take charge and pamper him, then by all means. As long as you don't tease him too much he'll let you do just about anything. If you tease him though...well you won't be on top for very long. The moment he loses control you'll be bent like a pretzel.

Xavier has more length than girth, and god damn is he able to use that to his advantage. If anything his dick is actually kind of pretty, with a few prominent veins on it and a soft pink tip. Now how he uses it...he will learn your body so well that he can perfectly angle himself inside of you and make you see stars. There is no saving you at that point.

Xavier can't say he has a favorite position when he's taking you. As long as he can be inside you in some way, shape, or form, he's content. If he had to choose though, he likes being in a spooning position with his cock buried into your heat, his hand on your hip and face in the crook of your neck while he whispers the filthiest things in your ear.

Despite having a larger sex drive than most would think, he doesn't masturbate as often. Anytime he's in the mood he might start, but if he doesn't have you with him it's not as exciting and he often times finds himself wanting to doze off. Only time he'll finish himself off in his own hand is if you're with him, or on call with him and he can hear you moaning as you touch yourself to the sound of his voice.

Xavier can and will send you spicy text messages while you're at work. He's a lot more careful with sending photos though since he'd hate it if you opened an image of him in public and had someone else see on accident. Not because he's ashamed of his body, but because he hates the thought of embarrassing you while you're working. He will, however, happily accept a spicy photo of you at any point in time. He even has a privacy screen on his phone so nobody can accidentally see it.

While Xavier is pretty kinky, he does have a few he is partial to. He likes cockwarming, especially after you two finish. If he had the choice he'd fall asleep with his length still deep inside of you. Another one would be somnophilia, as long as both parties consent to it of course. Xavier feels bad he's always sleeping, so if you ever wanted to use his body he'd be more than happy to let you. Not to mention it would make an amazing wake up call.

Zayne

Out of all three love interests, Zayne is the most tame when it comes to kinks. While he is happy enough to indulge you with whatever you want to try out, he is very much content with plain vanilla if that's what you request. Honestly whatever works out for the both of you is what he likes.

Now despite him being fine with vanilla sex, if you suggest trying something a bit more out there, he's probably all for it. Especially if you ask him to dominate you. He's already the top when it comes to sex, even if you're riding him he's holding your hips and controlling the tempo. If you ask for more Dom/Sub dynamics, he'll research it heavily before trying anything.

Zayne's dick is an absolute monster. Not only is it girthy, there's also quite a bit of length there as well and the veins lining the length only add to the sensations. It's the kind of dick that you have to whisper "Never back down, never give up". You won't be walking straight for days. It's the kind of cock that might put you in a wheelchair. It's a damn good thing he's a medical professional because his dick might actually destroy you, and yet you'll still be begging for more. Half the time he doesn't even put it in all the way so that you'll have a chance at being able to go to work the next day. And good luck sucking him off, not even a master could fit his entire dick down their throat.

Zayne's favorite position would have to be you riding him. He'll sit down on a couch with you on his lap, your chest right in front of him so he can nip and suck at it. His hands having an almost bruising grip on your hips as he guide you up and down on his length. Your small whimpers as he tells you how good you are for him. To Zayne, literally nothing can beat the view of you bouncing in his lap.

Zayne hates having to take matters into his own hands, literally, but sometimes if he doesn't have you with him he needs to do something. Memories of your nights together will be going through his head until he's painfully hard and can't sleep or work. He's not vocal when he masturbates unless he's on call with you, and even then it's small grunts here and there.

Zayne will avoid sending you pictures that are explicit. He might send more teasing photos to you every now and then, but nothing too bad. He's also careful about sending steamy messages. Normally if he does, it's to inform you of what's to come later in the day and it doesn't go too far. When you two are away from one another for long periods of time, he will video call you for some play time. Sometimes he'll even edge you, telling you not to cum until he gets home (which is torture for those business trips that last literal weeks).

Rafayel

As long as you're willing, Rafayel is more than happy to explore certain kinks with you. Of course only after you both look into it together. He loves teasing you about them while you two look into it, his body draped over your own while his hands explore your exposed skin, asking if you wanted to try the kink you're reading about right now.

He's a switch without a doubt. When he's bottoming he's nothing but a brat trying to be a power bottom and take control of the situation. When he's on top he is a huge tease, coaxing you into begging him for his touch. Either way, sex with Rafayel is always fun. Normally it's a small battle of dominance to decide who tops and bottoms.

Rafayel has more length than girth, and can definitely be called above average in that department. He isn't huge though, but just the right size to make you feel completely full. He also knows how to use it, making you whimper out his name as he slowly drags his length against your warm walls. His dick is pretty smooth as well, the veins not being very prominent. It is extremely sensitive to your touch though, and it's so easy to get him riled up just by running your hand over his pants.

To nobody's surprise, Rafayel likes to take you in the water. Whether it be in the pool, his tub, or the ocean. He has to admit you look amazing while the two of you are in the tub, your hands gripping the edges as you slowly ride him. His hands playing with all your exposed parts, teasing you and slowly bucking his hips into your own. Watching you cum and collapse onto his chest, panting his name as he continued fucking into you while you cling to him until he finishes, sometimes dragging another orgasm out of you.

Rafayel can and will masturbate to the thought of you whenever he has so much of a dirty thought. He's so down bad for you that he can't help himself. Just remembering how your skin feels against him, or how you whimper his name is enough to get him hard. He's not afraid to admit he's had to escape to the bathroom at one of his exhibits before just to get it out of his system. He can and will inform you about how it's all your fault and how you need to take responsibility.

Speaking of how you'll be informed if he masturbates, he will send you photos when it happens. His hand wrapped around his cock while in a closet during an event. Sometimes you'll see the cum dripping from the tip as he tells you n detail what you do to him. If he's at the studio, he'll call you up moaning your name, asking when you can come over. Of course this doesn't happen daily, but it is smart to make sure to have a privacy screen for your phone as well as headphones when you answer one of Rafayel's video calls if you're in public.

Lemurian Form

Rafayel is significantly more sensitive to touch in his Lemurian form. Feeling your hands tracing over his delicate scales will send shivers right down his spine.

He has two...and they're not small either. He has a slit in his tail that's softer than the rest and if you play with it enough, his cocks will come out. They're stacked, one on top of the other. The bottom one is about the side of his normal dick, but the top is significantly bigger.

They're tapered as well, coming to a soft point at the tips. The base of his cock has soft scales that are extremely sensitive (touching them the first time made him cum instantly). The rest of his length is a soft blue color that gradients to a more flesh tone at the top.

His cum is bioluminescent.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Xavier Love and Deepspace #Rafayel Love and Deepspace #Lnd #LndRafayel #Lnd Zayne #Lnd Xavier #lnd x reader #x reader #reader insert #lnd #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rabid rabbit hours

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teaboot · 2 years ago

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While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.

Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.

If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.

This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.

As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:

"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."

"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."

"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."

"I must have been wrong."

This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:

"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"

"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."

"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"

Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.

You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.

The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:

Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.

A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.

Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.

The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:

Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.

Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.

Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.

Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.

Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)

Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)

I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.

I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".

('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)

#Gaslighting #Abuse #Information #Psychological abuse

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months ago

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Carnival

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: Mary takes you to the carnival

Lockdown was both the bane of Mary's existence and the best thing in the world.

The worst thing because it meant confusion and fear and no football for a while. The best thing because it brought her you.

She fostered at first before moving to adoption when she found that she couldn't be parted from you.

With the lockdowns tentatively over now, things had started opening up again.

Like the carnival.

"They're rigged," You tell her.

You're still little but you speak well for your age, well advanced when compared to any of your peers.

"Rigged?" Mary laughs," Where've you heard that word?"

"I read it," You say," In a book."

"Oh. I forgot I was taking a genius out."

You make a little noise of acknowledgement before turning back to the carnival game.

It's most definitely rigged.

All of them are.

This one is one of those basketball toss games where you know the ring is only just wide enough for the ball to get through. If the throw isn't perfect then it'll hit the rim and bounce away.

Mary is looking at it with concentration though and you snag her belt loops, tugging lightly.

You hadn't meant to stop in the first place but you'd caught sight of one of the prizes.

One shot in got you a keychain.

Two shots got you a little inflated ball.

Three in meant the prize was a small toy.

Four was a medium sized toy.

Five was a big toy.

The big toys are displayed at the very top of the game. A lot of them a bears or big puppies but a handful of them are birds. They're in lots of different colours.

Yellow seems to be the most prominent colour but then it's pink. The one that caught your eye is blue though.

You like the look of it a lot but you also know the odds of winning it are slim to none.

Five perfect shots in a row is very difficult especially when the backing board behind the hoop is angled at a way that means if the ball hits it, it won't go into the hoop in the slightest.

"Mary," You say, tugging," Let's go."

Mary doesn't move though. "You want the bird?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"No."

"You don't even want to try?"

You shake your head, scuffing your foot into the dirt. "It's not worth it, Mary."

"Would it make you happy though?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"But-"

"Come on, birdie," Mary says," We'll try a few rounds and if we get it, we get it but if not that's fine too."

It costs five pounds for five balls and Mary fails abysmally for her first round.

It stokes something in her though, especially when your eyes dart away from the toy with every missed shot.

You've had a rough go of it, Mary thinks as she pays for another few rounds. Before her, you'd had a failed adoption. The couple had wanted you but then the wife had gotten pregnant and they realised what they actually wanted was a biological child.

It had fallen through and you'd bounced for a few days before being fostered by Mary.

She'd worked hard with you on understanding that she wasn't going to abandon you. She'd worked hard to get you to accept her as a maternal role in your life.

But that illusive word still evaded her.

She didn't need it, not truly. She knew what you thought of her and you knew what she thought of you.

She'd do anything for your happiness, including draining her bank to win you this stupid blue bird.

Your eyes had lit up when you'd seen it but you seemed fairly realistic for such a little kid.

These games were rigged but Mary refuses to let that stop her.

You want this stupid bird.

She'll get you this stupid bird.

Her hands are sweaty as she grabs her last ball. The others, surprisingly, have all gone in after nearly fifteen rounds of this stupid carnival game and it slowly dawns on her that this is the last shot.

She wipes her hands on her shirt.

"Mary?" You say and she looks down at you," Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine, birdie. One last shot and we can get your bird."

You glance down bashfully, fingers still threaded around her belt loop. "It's okay if you can't make it. We can go on the teacups instead."

Mary frowns, dropping to her knee so she can cradle your cheek in one of her big hands. "You don't want the bird?"

"I do," You say," But...I don't want you to feel bad if you can't get it in."

"Trust me," Mary says," I just want to make you happy."

You look into her eyes, searching for any hint of untruthfulness in them but you find none. You nod. "You should move slightly to the left," You say," And spread your fingers out a little more."

"Thanks, birdie."

She does as you've said and shoots.

The ball goes in and Mary breathes out a sigh of relief, already leaning over the counter to talk to the poor minimum wage worker that's had to sit through all her attempts.

"Yeah," She says," The bird. The blue one. Up top. Yeah, that one."

He has to get a big stick with a hook on the end to get it off and Mary takes it from him triumphantly.

She presents it to you and you gently stroke your hand over the fur.

She's still holding it but you bypass your new favourite toy completely, moving to hug her as tightly as you can.

"Thank you, Mummy."

Mary tries not to let you finally saying the 'm' word affect her, forcing back the tears that want to fall as she hugs you back, raining kisses onto the top of your hair.

"It was my pleasure, birdie."

#woso x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year ago

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BES Mizu x Reader - Tranquility

Summary: One evening, two odd fellows walk into your father's inn, requesting keep.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Reader believes Mizu is male, comfort, angst, use of he/him and she/ her pronouns for Mizu depending on POV

Humming gently, you busied your hands, bustling about the front room of your father's humble inn, dusting, polishing, sweeping- anything to pass the time. With your back turned, you hardly noticed the pair of men that wandered in, ducking under the curtain entrance.

"Welcome in!" you chirped over your shoulder, hearing footsteps approach the counter. Hurrying over and behind it, you turned to face them with a warm grin. "Good afternoon, sirs. How may I be of service?"

"We need a room," the shorter one said. He was significantly more slender than his companion and wore looser clothing and a wide kasa that obscured his face. "Two beds."

You nodded obediently. "Of course sir, and for how many nights?"

"One." He answered sternly, angling his head even deeper down.

"Alright," you processed his answer, making note of it. "And will you be requiring meals or would you prefer to dine elsewhere?"

"Here is fine," he replied, digging into a pocket to retrieve a sachel of currency. "Two dinners and two breakfasts. How much?" You quickly added up the total for the stay and four meals and told him what the charge was. To your surprise, he dropped even more in front of you. "I like my privacy, other than meal service, make sure no one disturbs me."

"Of course, sir!" you nodded profusely, swiftly making sure their payment was in the right place, before coming out from behind the counter. "Allow me to escort you to your room!"

-----

Now alone and behind closed doors, the pair of travelers began laying down their luggage, stretching from the relief of no longer having to carry their belongings on their backs. "Ringo," Mizu said suddenly, leaning her sword against a nearby wall as she sat down. "Go out and get us some more provisions, it'll be a while before we get to another village after we leave. Take this," Glancing up at her apprentice, she handed over a list of supplies and the same sachel of gold she'd paid with moments ago. "I'm going to rest while you're out, so try not to disturb me when you get back."

"Yes, master!" The man said seriously, a bit too much so as he saluted her before leaving. The samurai simply rolled her eyes at his unknowingly silly gesture and sighed.

It wasn't long into her quiet time that she was distracted by the softest knock on the wood frame of the door. "Service," your gentle voice called from the other side. Scoffing, Mizu called back, granting you permission to enter.

-----

You smiled when you heard the gentleman call back 'Enter.', sliding the panel away and lifting a tray from the floor before carrying it into the room. "Your meal tonight will be soba, but it won't be ready for a good while. I thought I'd bring you and your companion some refreshments in the meantime. Complementary, of course."

"Do all your guests get treated to free refreshments before dinner?" he asked, suspiciously, sitting cross-legged at a table in the center of the room.

"Well..." you blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you fell to your knees beside him. "Not exactly. Your meal will come with tea and sake, but I wanted to show my appreciation for..."

"You wanted to earn the extra money I gave you." he deduced. "I gave you that in exchange for leaving me alone so, admittedly, you aren't doing a very good job of earning it so far. I'd prefer you to respect my wishes than to bother me with special treatment."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and rejection. "I-I'm sorry," you sputtered, reclaiming the few things you'd set on the table in preparation to return the tray to the kitchen. "I'll just take this back, didn't mean to offend."

"Wait, you can stay." The mysterious man sighed, bringing his hand up and pressing his palm to the top of his kasa, removing it. Underneath it was silky midnight hair, tied back in a taught bun, with a rogue strand that framed his face. Though, most striking about his appearance, were his glasses. They were round and petite with an onyx frame and amber lenses. Noticing your attention, his eyes darted towards you. "Haven't you ever been told that staring is impolite?"

Shaking your head furiously, cheeks once again aglow, you returned to your current task. "Deepest apologies! I was only observing your glasses, they are-"

You could feel his glare on you intensify even with your gaze away. "They're what?"

"P-Pretty..." you muttered truthfully, instantly regretting using such a feminine adjective to describe something a man wore. "They're a nice color is all..."

The man shifted backward, seemingly surprised by your compliments, and for just a moment, his harsh demeanor faltered a bit. "Well...thank you," he muttered bashfully before clearing his throat and darting back into his shell upon noticing that you were beginning to pour a cup of sake. "Just tea," he corrected sternly. "I don't drink."

You straightened at his comment, pausing for a moment. "Apologies," you nodded, setting the vessel back down on the tray to remind yourself to take it back with you when you leave. "I don't believe I've ever served a man who didn't prefer sake." you mused with a small smile.

"I'm not other men," he answered shortly.

"Yes, you're entirely different..." you sighed with glowing cheeks, pouring his tea. "You're a true and honorable gentleman, I can tell."

For the first time since the pair had come in, the traveler smiled- smirked even. It was a cocky look that sent a shiver down your spine when you glanced up and his found sharp amber eyes staring back. "You're quite forward for a service girl, aren't you?"

Your eyes blew wide at his comment and your cheeks caught fire which spread even to the tips of your ears. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak so freely!" Somehow in your anxious haste, you'd lost your grasp on the tea kettle in your hand, and you quickly lunged forward to catch it, luckily saving it before it could spill- or worse, shatter.

Unfortunately, your cheer for victory was incredibly short-lived by the hiss of your guest, who had begun tugging his clothes away from his body. Stream rose from his torso and you went pale. It seemed that, in your rush to catch the kettle, you'd reached over the table and knocked the freshly poured cup of hot tea into the poor man's stomach.

Without a second thought, you immediately crawled over, pulling a handkerchief from the chest of your kosode and began dabbing at his chest and stomach, profusely apologizing all while. You could feel him tense beneath your touch, rigid an no longer wriggling form the discomfort of the steaming liquid coating his skin. To his horror, in your haste, you began to tug at his sleeves, pulling them off his shoulders slightly.

"I'm so very sorry, sir!" you cried, beginning to disrobe him. "I'm so clumsy! I swear I'll make this right, let me just-" you continued, untying his belt, his protests completely lost on you in your panicked state. "I'll take your clothes and launder them, free of charge! A-And I'll get you a full refund on your stay!"

"N-no, please," the man began to tremble, breath caught in his throat as you inched him closer and closer to nudity. "It's fine, all's forgiven, there's no need to-" His hands felt heavy as he tied to pry you away, and by the time he'd gathered the ability to calm himself, you'd already stopped. You were entirely frozen as the fabric of his shirt felt from your hand.

"I-I..." you sputtered, unsure of what to say, or even if to speak at all. You'd rather just stay frozen.

"I-I appreciate the offer to launder my clothes, but please," the traveler gave an exacerbated sigh, "Let me undress myself."

You slowly nodded, never breaking eye contact as he gripped his garment closed and gingerly traced the hem of it and where it fell on his chest. Suddenly, out of his peripheral, he watched you lift something off the floor, setting the object in his lap. Then he realized, you weren't looking at his body. Glancing down, he noticed his glasses, folded neatly and resting in the creased crotch of his baggy pants.

"Get out." he snapped, finally putting himself into gear. "I will leave my clothes outside my door for you to wash. Have them back to me as soon as possible. And yes, you will be refunding my stay." he seethed as you instantly jumped up and hurried out of the room.

-----

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mizu stressed, pacing the room, and tugging at her hair. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but her clothes were ruined, she'd at least have to wash them in some creek somewhere. But then, what about Ringo? She could leave him, but knowing him, he'd find her and lecture her about the importance of facing your problems instead of running from them. She'd forced you out before she'd had a chance to read your reaction, but then again, she'd never experienced a good one. You were probably on your way to tell someone- or worse, inform authorities on her whereabouts.

Even worse, she could her her chest bindings beginning to soak with tea, creating a terrible moist feeling between her breasts. She'd have to change the bandages, lest her skin begin to chafe. With every odd stacked against her leaving, she decided to stay. You only knew of her eye color, after all. At least you hadn't figured out all of her secrets.

All she had to do was keep her body hidden and charm you into not telling about her eyes, she could do this. You were tripping all over yourself over one snarky comment, surly she could convince you to keep quiet, right?

I hope you guys enjoyed this, there will be a part two coming (hopefully) soon, which I will link in this post when it is finished! Please like, comment, and reblog if you like this, it really helps encourage me to continue, and with this being a fandom for me to write for, it helps a lot to know what y'all interact with most!

#mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #ringo blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x reader blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai fanfic #mizu x fem!reader

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dilfl0v3rss · 11 months ago

Note

NEED more boxer!todo smut maybe one where reader is jealous of the fan girls ???

yes yes yes yes yes yes yessssss!!!!

you loved your boyfriend more than anything. he was caring, respectful, loyal, and most of all, he wasn't afraid to express his love for you. whether it be in an interview or literally in a middle of a match todo always made sure to let people know he belonged to you. though this was true, there always seemed to be those sex-crazed fans that saw your man as nothing but a piece of meat. eyeing him at every angle, just waiting to pounce on him when you're either not around or not looking. todo always told you not to worry about these women, but how could you when he'd do barely anything to keep them in check?

you were accompanying todo at yet another meet and greet, fixing up his locs into a much better bun than whatever he threw it in earlier as your beefy boyfriend sat uncomfortably in his seat. "wanna go the fuck home" he mumbled as he boredly watched the hundreds of girls scream their heads off at the entrance. your hand moved towards the back of his neck, plucking him lightly before lecturing him. "watch your mouth, these people are dying t'meet you and this how you repay them?" todo sucked his teeth in front of you, earning him another pluck on the other side of his neck as you moved in front of him, blocking his view of the entrance as you stood between him and the table. "ow! cmon mama, we both know that we rather be in the bed right now" the smirk on his lips already let you know what he was implying as he outstretched a wide hand on the plump of your ass, squeezing the fatty flesh as he peeked past you towards the door.

you quickly slapped his hand away, giving him a warning look as you began to move towards where the rest of his team and security were standing. "behave" you mouthed before both of your attention was brought to the swarm of screaming women moving towards the table. todo internally rolled his eyes at the sight in front of him. in his eyes he didn't understand why these women acted like this, never really paying attention to how he looked when he fought. you, on the other hand, understood completely. from his tight jawline to the sight of his sweaty, glistening body. you knew your man was fine, but that didn't mean you enjoyed when these women would act like this.

"oh my goshhhhh a.t please sign this!!!" the first girl yelled, practically shoving a picture of him in his face. he internally sighed at her behavior, his hand moving towards the picture before quickly signing his initials on it and giving it back to her. "there you go. loved that fight by the way, think i handled my business well. whatchu think about it?" the girl stood in embarrassment as she looked around the room, not having a clue in the world about what fight he was talking about since she probably got the picture from a random site online. todo turned towards you, a small smirk creeping on his lips as the girl quickly walked away. you couldn't help but laugh as you instantly thought back to the fight he was talking about. it happened to be the same fight you gave hime a little something in his dressing room before he went out.

the next group of woman to come up were much calmer, all wearing white t shirt with todo's face in the middle of a heart. of course they tied the backs of them, making their breasts nearly burst through the fabric as their one size too small miniskirts sat right over the bottom of their asses, they probably weren't even wearing underwear. "hi aoiii" the women said in unison, their high pitched voices making your eyes roll as the three of them leaned over the table. this time todo didn't seem as bored, his lip twitching into a smirk as he read the words on each of their shirts. the girl on his left wearing one that said "aoi", the middle one wearing one that said "is our", and the girl on the right wearing one that had a big pink "daddy" right under his picture. the sight of them made you cringe as you quietly scoffed in disgust.

"well this is new" he said with a chuckle, making the girls giggle as well. their breasts bouncing in their tight shirts as they basically eye fucked your boyfriend right in front of you. "we're such big fans todo, really!" the girl on the left said as she batted her long lashes at him. "yea we've been t'nearly every match!" "n'when we couldn't get tickets we'd watch you on tv!" the other two followed, leaning closer towards him on the table as he kept that dumb smirk on his face. "well i appreciate that ladies, i could tell y'all are big fans" you were getting irritated now. your nails digging into your palms as you watched the girl in the middle hand him a gift box with a bright pink bow on it, small smirks on their faces as they waited for him to open it. "want me t'open it now or later?" each of the girls quickly replied. "now!" a fit of giggles following as they watched the man slowly undo the bow.

as todo removed the lid he nearly choked on his tongue. inside the box sat three pairs of panties, each a different color which also happened to match the colors of the words on each of their shirts. the girl on the left's being baby blue, the girl in the middle's being black, and the girl on the right's being pink. his eyes widened before he slowly put the lid back on, picking up the sharpie and looking at the three woman. "w-what y'all want signed?" he said, clearing is throat after he spoke in which the girls replied almost immediately by pointing to the small line in the top right corner of the big heart in the middle of each of their shirts. of course this was also where their left breasts were located, making todo's heart nearly stop beating in his chest.

you were fuming now, feeling as if steam was being released from your ears as you watched this man, YOUR man, smile from ear to ear as he signed his name on each of their shirts. you couldn't watch the scene any longer, turning on your heals and walking towards the exit to wait for him in the car. todo didn't even notice until he heard the exit door slam onto the wall when you opened it, your back turned to him as you angrily walked away. "s'cuse me for a minute" he mumbled, getting up from his seat to follow you outside. the girls giggly attitudes were quickly replaced with sadness as they watched todo walk away as if all the things they just did meant nothing.

you were nearly at his car now, the keys already in your purse since he gave them to you when it was time for the event to start. "mama...baby where you goin?" you ignored him, continuing your search for his keys so you can just go. todo didn't give up though, walking up behind you before lightly pulling your arm around so you can face him. "what's the issue?" was he dumb? did he really not see the problem in what just went on? anger began to cloud your brain, making all your movements rougher and full of attitude as you snatched your arm from his hold and waved your hands in his face as you spoke.

"nigga are you dumb, stupid, or a complete fuckin idiot cause there's no way in hell you don't understand what the problem is" todo's face hardened at your disrespectful attitude, his jaw clenching as he stared down at you with serious eyes. "who the fuck you talkin to like that y/n? don't make me embarrass you out here." you scoffed, his words not putting a single drop of fear in your heart as you pushed your finger into his chest. "you already did that when you was in there signing tiddies and smiling all in bitches faces you hoe ass nigga. m'not finna go back n fourth wit you when i know i could have a new nigga in my bed by tonight so you can go back in there wit your little girlfriends and leave me the fuck alo-" before you knew it your view quickly changed from aoi's face to the upside down view of his lower back as he threw you over his shoulder.

"nigga put me down ion care if you a pro boxer i will fuck you up out here!"

"yeah yeah whatever you say, jus keep that same energy when we get in there."

'in where?' you thought. nevertheless, you continued slapping your hands on his back, trying to free yourself from his strong hands. before you knew it the two of you were back inside, the attention of almost every person in there on you and todo as he continued his journey to the bathroom, not paying them any mind. he became irritated with your small fists hitting his back, using his much larger hands to his advantage as he left a light tap on your ass, "cut it out ma, you only makin it worse for yourself." the three women still stood in their spots in front of his table, looks of jealousy on each of their faces as they watched you. your current state made you embarrassed as you looked at the group of girls the best you could as you hung over your boyfriend's shoulder. todo payed all of them no mind, silently walking into the bathroom and locking the door before putting you down.

as soon as he released you, you made quick work of giving him a piece of your mind as you fixed your dress in the mirror. "stupid ass nigga, now you standing there all mad at me cause i told you the truth. im not trippin over you aoi you can go be wit them bitches right now and i wouldn't bat an eye." you dug yourself into an even deeper hole as you continued to fix yourself up in the mirror, not paying the man any mind as he walked up behind you. he was close, leaving no room between your ass and his print as he dropped his lips towards your ear. "you done?" the sound of his voice made arousal rush to your core, but you feigned indifference. why was he so calm? on other days when you would get like this your boyfriend would usually entertain it, feeding into your attitudes by arguing with you, today felt different.

your gazed moved towards his in the mirror. you were going to speak, but the look in his eyes told you that maybe it was better if you didn't. the look he carried was one you've never seen up close like this before. this was the same look he had before getting in the ring with that one mouthy opponent. the same opponent that ended up getting sent flying to the other side of the ring in just the first round. so you settled for a slow nod instead, an apology already on the tip of your tongue as you felt his wide hand outstretch on your the middle of your back. "bend over f'me then" he left you no more room for arguments as he already had you bending over the sink with his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as he used his other hand to lift up your dress. "why you mad at me baby?" you opened your mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of his deep, menacing voice, "and before you answer that lemme remind you that ian flirt with those girls, didn't let em touch me, didn't even ask f'their names. just been polite and signed my name on their shirts so why you mad at daddy, baby?"

as you thought back to the events that happened you realized how wrong you were, you fucked up. you were so blinded by jealousy that you didn't notice how respectful your man was still being to you during the entire situation. tears began to well in your eyes, your bottom lip already trembling as an apology sat ready on your tongue. "sh sh sh, m'not hearin none of that right now. tell me why you upset" your tears escaped you as you spoke, your breathing already picking up speed as you tried to get through a single sentence without sobbing. "cause i was j-jealous" todo nodded his head at your truthfulness, freeing himself from his black jeans before lining himself up with your entrance. "and what did papa said t'do when you start feelin that way princess?"

your tears fell more frequently now, your voice quieting down almost to a whisper as you shyly told him the words he wanted to here. "said t-to talk t'you about it to avoid stuff l-like this" he nodded again, tightly gripping your hips as he slowly sunk into you. the moan you let out was sinful, the thin walls of the bathroom doing probably nothing to keep everyone outside from hearing the two of you. "auughh d-da-" "sh sh shh, you was able to remember everything you was supposed t'do, but still managed not t'do it. y'know what that means right?" you slowly nodded your head, earning you a hard slap on your ass. the stinging pain of his rough palm caused more tears to fall as your legs buckled under you. "y-yes, m-means i'm in tr-trouble"

todo hummed in delight at your compliance, one of his hands snaking up your back and into your hair as he gripped your hip firmly with his other. "m'glad you know, take what i give you and if i see you tryna run imma just go deeper, y'hear me?" you didn't even get the chance to reply before you felt every inch of his dick begin to move in and out of you at a slow pace. the sound of his hips and your ass already filling the room as you released whiney moans into the air. "m'so sorry p-papa, i didn't m-mean t'make you madddd" you whined, your hands clenching in a tight fist to keep you from pushing at his abdomen. todo ignored you, quickening his pace and strengthening his trhrusts to the point where the sink acquired a slight shake.

you knew that you wouldn't be able to last long if he kept fucking you like this, your back arched to perfection as he pulled you up slightly so you can watch him in the mirror. he quickly released your hip, moving his hand towards your chin as he made you look yourself in the eyes. "what's my name mama? say it real loud so all those girls could hear." his deep voice traveled right between your legs, your arousal only growing as he felt your essence begin to spread all over his thighs. your eyes lost their focus, nothing but your release on your mind as you began to fuck yourself back onto his dick. todo couldn't help a devilish smirk from growing on his features, your fucked out expression almost making him ease up on you, but almost wasn't enough...

the next thing you knew todo's thrusts doubled in power, his hand gripping your hair tighter as he left three hard slaps to your ass. "y'hear me pretty? say my name." he knew you could barely think right now let alone speak, but todo had a habit of pushing you past your limits. your pouty lips parted, smeared lipgloss making them shine as you forced out the name he's been dying to hear. "daddy, f-fuckkk s'daddy!" your words were followed by a plethora of moans and whines, your release on the tip of your tongue as you felt his dick kiss parts of you that could never be reached by someone else. todo just smiled, lust dancing in his eyes as he stared you down in the mirror. "s'right mama, it don't matter if a girl put it on a t shirt or on her fucking forehead. daddy only got one girl n it's you"

tears began to fall down your cheeks, your pleasure only growing as you listened to your boyfriend reassure you. at the sound of his voice your walls began to tighten, signaling to him you were about to cum. todo moved his hand towards your stomach, pushing your back to his chest as he kissed up and down your neck. "you gonna cum? gon make a mess on your dick?" you quickly nodded your head at his question, tear stained cheeks shining in the dim light of the bathroom as you moved yourself back harder onto him. "w-wan you t'fill me up daddy" todo felt himself twitch at sight of you, your low eyes and glossy lips making it hard for him to keep his orgasm at bay as he quickened the speed of his thrusts. "ill give you want you want princess don't worry, give you whatever you want as long as you listen. you gon listen to daddy now?"

you replied almost instantly with a drawn out "yessss!" making todo's heart skip a beat as he quickly connected the two of your lips. the two of you made out sloppily, not worrying at all about the noise as your release trickled out of you onto his dick. your vision began to whiten as your legs buckled from underneath you. of course aoi caught you, continuing his ministrations until he was filling you up with his thick load. as both of your breathing began to slow you slipped out of todo's arms and turned around to face him. "m'sorry for gettin jealous baby, i just don't like seein you around so many women." you shied away from his gaze, making him put a strong hand under your jaw so you can look at him as he spoke. "i know mama and i forgive you, now can we just forget this whole stupid meet n greet shit so i can go home and fuck you properly. i hate these things just as much as you do."

the two of you laughed, getting each other dressed before quietly exiting the bathroom. you were surprised to see that all of the women had left, their hopes of pulling the pro boxer being killed by the sound of the two of you fucking like animals in the bathroom.

"looks like they already forgot it"

#aoi todo x black reader #aoi todo x black!reader #aoi todo x black y/n #aoi todo smut #todo aoi x black reader #todo aoi x black!reader #todo aoi x black yn #todo aoi smut #jjk x black!fem reader #jjk x black!reader #jjk x black y/n #jjk x black reader

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lavendermunson · 1 year ago

Text

dancing with our hands tied — eddie munson

୨ৎ ˙ ˖

summary Eddie seems to live in constant hell except when he is with you.

tags +18. eventual smut. friends to best friends to lovers. angst. pining. no upside down. slight chrissy x eddie and jealous reader. fingering. p in v without protection; be smart irl. no use of y/n, eddie calls reader peach. lose of virginity.

tw eddie has an older brother who punches him. slight mentions of blood and violence. alcohol. mention of drugs. if i forgot anything lmk!

w.c 7.6 k

a/n hey people! it’s the first time i write something like this. the fic is divided in tiny chapters that are titled by the lines of taylor’s song (see title) i hope it’s easy to understand and let me know if you like the format ♡ enjoy!

I. First sight, we love without reason.

It came to you as a surprise, really. The moment he sat down on the nearest seat to start the tutoring lesson. The secret is Eddie has always been good at English, it’s a thing among others that he kept as a secret. You weren’t sure why he would hide it, even lie about it.

You and Eddie became friends easily. But you wish the relationship had more meaning, you weren’t friends just school friends. The worst kind of friend you could be with someone as cool and pretty as Eddie.

One day, in the early morning of a cloudy Thursday Eddie attended school with a black eye. He rushed past you mumbling a kind Hey and going his way. You said hi back but it was too late, he was gone.

You missed him the rest of the day, he didn’t show up to class. His friends were alone at lunch. There was no sign of Eddie until later, tutoring sessions.

He slumps on the chair next to you, taking a deep breath and scratching his scalp nervously. His hands were shaking as he started to scribble on your textbook.

Your mind wasn’t focused on the textbook once, you looked longingly at the maroon-tinted bruise on his eye. A cut, maybe 12 hours old, rested on the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting” you whispered “I can’t keep my eyes off…your… are you okay, Eddie?” you pointed your finger at his eye, and he turned his head to look at you.

“Yeah, no don’t worry” he sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair and taking a deep look at your face.

Your mouth has formed a pout and your brows are furrowed, Eddie tried to read your mind and he succeeded. You were worried.

“My stupid older brother, he comes in unexpectedly, and when I tried to kick him out of the trailer he punched me”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Eddie” You lean your head to the side, his face looks better from this angle.

He looks tired, the punch looks like it hurts a lot, more if it came from a person of his own bloodline.

“You know what, we can study another time and you can go rest” Your hands are quick to close the textbook, gathering all your stuff as Eddie’s body comes closer to you.

He takes your wrist on his hand, with a little more pressure than intended. When your mouth leans to the side he realizes he is hurting you (not too much, but still he didn’t mean it).

“No, I'm sorry” he drops your hand on your lap, delicately “We can study, I'm fine. Please I need the money”

“I know, I will pay you. But I can’t sit here and I can't focus knowing you are in pain or your mind is somewhere else” You smile at him, and he nods.

“Thanks…I'm having a really bad day. I cannot thank you enough, tomorrow we can study double I promise”

“Don’t worry, I got you” You head out of the library beside him “Take care of that, it looks like it’s going to stay there for a while”

He giggles at your comment, you are not sure why. You pay him for today and he smiles at you.

“Thank you, Peach”

He didn’t talk about his family much, he wasn’t entirely sure if there was something interesting to talk about. His mom left a few years ago, along with his older brother, leaving little Eddie and Uncle Wayne alone.

You knew Wayne from one of Eddie’s stories he told you about. He loves the man like he is his own father, but he is in a lot of debt with him.

Wayne takes care of Eddie as if he’s his own child. He surely loves Eddie like that. He works most of the day and night leaving his nephew alone in the trailer park.

One of those cold and lonely nights Eddie’s brother came to visit him at the trailer park only seeking some money. He was out of luck, and so was Eddie, when his furious brother came in and punched him in the face. Not once, but twice.

Eddie’s head and face hurt the rest of the night. He unfortunately overslept and didn’t get a chance to start school properly so he chose to show up just to the tutoring sessions. He needed the cash, you needed help.

II. Picture of your face in an invisible locket.

A week has passed since Eddie’s brother came to town. You’ve grown closer to Eddie than before.

You hang out after school now that tutoring lessons are over, he invites you to Hellfire Club to watch the campaigns and you sit there watching the whole thing unravel. He had a great imagination, and a wonderful mind full of creative stories and riddles. The kids enjoy his company as much as you do.

He talked about his problems at home with you, trying to get the ugly feeling out of his chest. You listened to him buying him a cup of ice cream and enjoying the wonderful summer breeze.

“I enjoy being with you,” he said “You are a great friend, Peach”

You smiled at him. He smiled at you. His dimples showed up for the first time since you’ve known him, a simple gesture that knocked some sense on you, you had a crush on him.

“Me too, Eds”

Your relationship with Eddie has evolved, not only do you have pet names for each other but it seems like you are best friends. It’s been some weeks since the first time he offered to tutor you and you accepted immediately.

You’ve always liked Eddie, he is his true self every time and he is proud of it.

You admire it.

People at school used to call him awful names, it was always like that until he met Chrissy. The popular kids are the ones that make more fun of him as if it wasn’t exhausting for them to be assholes and jerks nine hours a day. They have toned their jokes down knowing that the queen of Hawkins has a soft place for Eddie and he is more than happy hanging out with her sometimes.

That made your heart ache, it was a dreadful feeling.

After spending some time with Eddie you went home. Still under that lavender haze of accepting that you had a crush on him for a while. It was embarrassing to you only because you were so, so obsessed with him.

His face. His hands. His scent. His hair. Realizing everything about him made you crazy was scary, he only had eyes for one person who was the most perfect cheerleader in the history of high school.

To distract your mind from all the lousy thoughts you took a shower, it was quick, you needed to brush off the sweat and release some tension with a thorough massage on your scalp. The lavender shampoo lingered in the air, relaxing every inch of your body.

After the shower, it was time to eat some dinner. Instead of making a complicated meal you decided to heat some leftovers from yesterday and enjoy your evening eating and dancing in the kitchen with some of your old records playing upbeat songs to cheer you up.

A knock on your door makes you jump after finishing dinner. No one used to come by at this hour, not when your dad was out of town.

You get close to the door and look through the peephole to see who’s interrupting your godly moment. It was Eddie.

A gasp falls out of your mouth and you open the door as quickly as possible. You meet Eddie’s trembling body standing in front of you, his lip is bleeding and his eyes are watering.

“God, Eds…” you whisper, he leans closer to you, wrapping his hands around your neck and hugging you.

You didn’t say anything else, just mirrored his movements and wrapped his waist with your arms. Taking a few steps back and leading him in, you close the door with your foot and he stands there, still not letting you go.

You rub his back as he tries to ease his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go so I-” he takes a step back breaking contact with you, his head falls as his eyes look at his feet.

“He, he did this to you again?” he broke contact so fast you decided to stay in your place, careful not to overwhelm him with unwanted touches.

“Yeah, shit shit, sorry I should've called. My mind sort of blacked out and the only thing I could remember was your street and the color of your house, the one with the weird birdhouse…”

“Eds, it’s okay” you interrupt “Let me help you, alright? let me clean your wound and make you some hot chocolate”

He nods, walking with you to the bathroom and past your bedroom. You are quick to find the first aid kit, taking some rubbing alcohol and gauze to clean Eddie’s cut. He hisses at the stingy feeling in his mouth, you apologize and he encourages you to continue.

And there you are, with the boy that you like so much. He leans on the counter closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel at peace with you around him.

You stand between his legs, his inner thighs rubbing the exposed skin of your thighs. The ungodly thoughts need to go away so you blink pretty fast, focusing, it’s not the moment nor the place nor the person.

You finish up cleaning his wound and placing a band aid over it to avoid any sort of discomfort while it heals.

“It’s ready” Eddie opens his eyes, finding you in front of him. So close. The white light in the bathroom makes you look like an angel.

“Thank you, peach” he squeezes your cheek slightly. Neither of you move from where you stand, so close to each other but so far at the same time.

“It’s nothing, let’s make you some chocolate”

“Wait, I'm not really hungry. I need to clear my mind and feel at peace for a bit, ‘m just gonna go back to my place to rest but again… thank you” he stands up straight and you step back, missing the heat of his body.

“No! you can’t go back, it's dangerous. My dad is out of town, you can stay here”

His head leans down to one side, he looks at you concerned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for my best friend” you say. It’s the first time you call him like that. It’s the first time anybody has called him like that.

“Thank you, again, thank you”

“No problem, let me get you some fresh clothes”

You get Eddie some of your oversized clothes that only get out of your closet on rainy days. You give him some space to change and freshen up in the bathroom, getting him a new toothbrush and a towel so he can wash his face.

When he gets out you offer him the guest room, he immediately denies it and asks if he can sleep with you. You shake your head and show him a gentle smile.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or bother you” he asks while you get the bed ready to sleep.

“It’s okay, Eds. I get that you don’t want to be alone, do not worry”

You get in bed, he drops his body beside you. Both of you rest your head on the pillows while looking at the ceiling.

“You can stay here in the morning if you don’t want to go to school, I do have to go and hand in this paper I’ve been working on”

“Thank you, I owe you one,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest and letting out a sigh.

“You don’t, I’m happy to help you” You look at him, but he doesn’t look back. “Goodnight, Eds”

“Goodnight, sweetheart”

The pet name falls from his lips so beautifully.

You close your eyes with a smile plastered on your face, aware that the heat of your cheeks is present leaving a pink tint.

You are thankful it’s dark and Eddie is about to fall asleep so he won’t notice.

When you fall asleep Eddie does too. It takes him a couple of seconds to get into a deep sleep, he hasn’t slept like this in weeks, all thanks to the torture of his stupid brother and the constant thought of him coming back to punch him.

He feels safe around you and he is more than grateful to be your friend.

III. ‘Cause it’s gravity, keeping you with me.

Eddie has been staying over at your house multiple times, Your dad is out of town and you appreciate the company, his company. Sometimes he comes with you right after school, other times after he hangs out with Chrissy. You are not sure of what kind of relationship they have but it still hurts your heart every time he laughs at something she says.

You are thankful for having him over. The nights consist of movies, old tv shows, watching the commercials on the tv, and listing in your head what to buy next for these reunions.

The last slice of pizza remains in the box, it should be cold and washy but

Eddie is fine with it. He watches you from the corner of his eye, your gaze glued to him.

“Sorry, did you want the last slice?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts into reality.

“Huh? No, no you have it”

“Sure?”

“I hate it when the pizza is cold” Your mouth falls to the side, and you look at the slice with disgust.

“Bummer, I’ll have this baby for myself”

He raises his hand with the slice between his fingers, his head falls to the back and he takes a bite of the tip of the slice. You watch him in awe, not really thinking about how weird it is to watch Eddie eat, but your eyes can never leave his face. His mouth opens and his jaw tightens when he takes a bite, and another, and another until he finishes it.

“Don’t know why you pushed this aside, it was so good”

The corner of his mouth is full of tomato sauce and cheese grease, you laugh at him shaking your head.

“You have something… there” you point with your finger, Eddie furrows his brows and leans his head to the side looking like a confused puppy.

“Where? Here?” He wipes his mouth and smiles victorious, although it is the opposite side.

“No, here”

You get closer to him. His body is fully turned to the left so you sit in front of him kneeling.

He watches you getting close, he takes a deep breath as his Adam’s apple bobs as a result of his own nerves. You are too close, you’ve never been this close –just once when he hugged you – not even when you two are sleeping in your bed.

As you take the napkin to clean his face you get the opportunity to get closer, you wipe his mouth slowly and pinch his chin between your fingers. You breathe and he is mixing up, the room feels suddenly too hot.

Eddie wants to give in, he gets his head closer. He doesn't care about anything, just you. The only source of light is the TV which gives a shadow of multiple colors on your face, it’s adorable. Your body, your naked thighs, your pretty face so close. He is about to kiss you until you speak.

Shit.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot”

“How do you punch someone?” you ask, he shakes his head confused shaking off the thoughts he had earlier. He was so close to kissing you, but he couldn’t. You are his best friend.

“Wow,” Eddie laughs, grinning “Who do you want to punch, exactly?”

“I met someone”

Your news hit Eddie in the chest. He shouldn’t be feeling like this but he is… jealous?

“He told me to go to this party with him… and a friend told me I should be prepared for everything”

“Everything? Like if he wants to get in your pants you’d punch him?”

“Only if he is a real jerk and thinks he is too smart”

Eddie nods, he takes your hands in his standing up from the couch. You follow him.

“Alright, pay attention”

He drops one of your hands and takes your dominant hand in his, the cold rings on his fingers keep you from falling apart from his touch.

“The secret is in your hips and shoulders, that’s where the power comes from okay?”

“Yeah, but please don’t teach me how to kill someone. I just want to throw a little punch if needed”

“I know, peach” he laughs “Stand up like this” His stance looks professional, maybe he has done this before. Maybe to protect himself from his older brother.

“First things first, your stance gives you balance so you don’t fall to the floor and break your nose too y’know?”

“Am I going to break his nose?” you ask, a little scared of what you are getting yourself into.

“No! ‘M just saying. You don’t have a lot of strength to do that, don’t worry”

“Like this?” You mimic his stance, feeling a little awkward.

"Exactly. Now, focus on your fist” He hasn’t dropped your hand yet “Curl your fingers in, and tuck your thumb under them. This way, you won't hurt your hand when you punch”

“Why do I feel like I shouldn't be learning this?”

“You are fine, watch” Your hands form a perfect fist, Eddie holds it in his hands and tries to set you up on the perfect stance. Your knuckles turn a bit white as you focus on the lesson “See? Perfect”

“I got it”

"Now punch me,” he says, he is serious.

“What?”

“C’mon I’ve taken the worst punches, bet yours will feel light as a feather” he grins. Inside he feels dumb for aching your touch so much even if it means taking a hit “Twist your body and extend your arm in a straight line, then go straight to my cheek” his fingertip touches his cheek “Not my nose! Please” he remarks, but at the same time he is encouraging you.

“Alright,” you do as he says, swinging your arm back and forth. Your fist comes into contact with his cheek and he groans in pain, his head falls to one side.

“Jesus H. Christ!” he caresses his cheek with the palm of his hand “I underestimated you” A chuckle falls from his lips, and you are covering your mouth with your hands surprised. Your eyes are glassy.

“No, no don’t cry I’m fine”

“I’m so sorry Eddie. I thought- fuck, I didn’t see that coming! I am so fucking-sorry, sorry” you cry, your cheeks glow red as embarrassment washes over you.

“No, don’t” he is still laughing “Oh god, come here”

Eddie opens his arms and wraps them around your shoulders. This is the second time you hug him, and this time it feels different. One of his hands rubs your back to calm you down as you keep murmuring sorry. He keeps thinking you are the most adorable thing on the planet.

“Do we count this as tutoring? Am I getting cash for getting punched in the face?” he chuckles.

You bury your face in his chest, hugging his body tightly. He feels you trying to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah if you want”

“I'm joking, peach, you did good!”

You smile at the praise, although he can’t see it.

“Thank you for teaching me”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It was a pleasure” he breaks the hug, and his hands come to rest on your arms. He is not giving up touching you “I hope whoever you punch… you do it harder than this one” he smiles.

As you watch his face, hypnotized, you smile back.

“I will, only if he is a jerk…”

“Or thinks he is too smart, gotcha” he interrupts, filling up the rest of the sentence “But you know if someone bothers you, you can call me and I will kick his ass right?”

“I’m a big girl, Eds. I can take care of myself”

“That I see! ‘M just offering, You did good honey” He pinches your cheek, and the new pet name hits right above your stomach where your anxiety rests. He has never called you that before, you feel the heat on your cheeks.

“We- uhm, we should sleep is getting late” You watch the clock, it is 3 am already.

“Oh shit, yeah. Let’s go”

IV. I’m a mess but i’m the mess that you wanted.

Watching Eddie kissing Chrissy was a punch on the tits. His hands are on her waist, she grabs his jacket getting closer. Their mouths were glued to each other. You were sure this was the night, this was the night you would tell Eddie your feelings, but instead, you decided to meet up with the guy you told him about. Ignoring your feelings for Eddie.

Nothing ever comes out as you wish, after punching the guy for trying to touch your ass after he didn’t even know you were in his math class, you punched him. Your hand hurts, but it was worth it.

You try to find Eddie but he isn’t around. Ignoring the feeling in your chest, you decide to fill the guilt and the secrets with alcohol.

After a lot of refills, the living room’s bottles are empty so you make your way around the house to find more. That’s when you find Eddie, you take your sixth? seventh? Cup of the night and walk to him.

“Eds!”

Your voice is like honey to him, he didn’t want to be here but as soon as Chrissy mentioned you were coming with “the guy” he wanted to be there. She was nowhere to be seen after spending some time with him.

“I did it! I punched him!” you mumble, proud of your achievement and so, so drunk.

“Fuck, I missed it?”

“Yeah, I have been looking for you everywhere to tell you” You lie, you’ve seen him multiple times and ignored him. It was a decision that sober you took. Drunk you is a little more insistent “I didn't think you were coming”

“Chrissy wanted to be here, I'm just keeping her company… was, she left” he looks around, but she is still somewhere else.

Her name rings in your ears, your stomach crumbles.

“Well, let’s get drunk!”

Deep down Eddie is grateful that the guy you were meeting up with fucked up everything and now you are with him. Chrissy is nowhere to be seen and you seem like you need someone to watch you. Take care of yourself.

You are so drunk, your whole body feels light and your head is in the clouds. Maybe you are a little bit high too.

“Can we find somewhere more quiet? I wanna smoke” Eddie finds himself screaming, the music getting louder with the minutes.

“Sure, let’s go”

You hold a red solo cup with something in it, enough to make you more tipsy. You follow Eddie outside, to the porch. The night is hot and Eddie realizes your dress is too short. He takes a deep breath, looking at your thighs as you take a sip from the cup.

Eddie lights a cigarette and takes a peek at the party from outside, The window leaves a space so the warm light of the house hits your face. The night at your house, the one when he almost kisses you comes back to his head. A side of your face lit up by the chaos inside, yet you look so peaceful, so beautiful.

“I need more of this. I- shit I forgot the n-name” you slur your words again, taking a step forward. Eddie takes your wrist in his hand, stopping you.

“What the fuuuuck?” you say.

“I think that’s enough for today, let’s go home”

Your whole body is on fire, all of your insides begging for more alcohol.

“Home? What? I didn’t know we lived together!”

“C’mon, peach. You know what I mean” Eddie’s cigarette bounces on his mouth, his voice is firm and his free hand comes to cup your waist.

“No, no. Let’s go dance here” You take his hand, the alcohol makes you bold. He follows you to the living room after dropping his cigarette.

The music is too loud, you empty the cup you had and throw it away.

“I’ll be right back, need to take a piss'” Eddie says, disappearing. You don’t hear him.

His “girlfriend” is still ignoring him, but he remembers what she said. She got mad because he was looking for you, and she got jealous too. Chrissy wanted all the attention but Eddie was giving it to you.

He stopped eating lunch with her, he was with you instead. Talking about random tv commercials that you thought were clever, it was some of an inside joke.

As he comes back from the bathroom he hears a crowd cheering, he is so done with this party, tired of the happy sappy music playing over and over, and the smell of sweat and alcohol makes him sick. He makes an effort to find you and he does.

There you are, standing on the table dancing. You were dancing, making some sexual moves that all the guys were screaming. Your hips move as the music gets to your ears, the whole room electrified by this little show.

Eddie’s face goes beet red, he can’t take this. He isn’t enjoying this.

Jealousy takes over him and he grabs your hand, yanking you down and letting you fall on his shoulder.

He carries you away from the table, a hand comes behind your back and he places his palm on your ass in an attempt to stop your dress from going up. You feel the cold of his rings again, your whole body lights up in anger as he carries you outside.

“Let me down! Eddie, I'm not joking!”

“Whine for as long as you want, I’m taking you home”

“Eddie please, I'm going to throw up”

He gives up, he lets you down and you pick up your breath. You place a hand on your belly trying to steady yourself and make the nausea go away.

“I need a moment… just give me a–”

“No! I know you will go back inside. You can’t even walk by yourself”

“Yes, I can! Don’t- don’t try to babysit me” you bicker.

He lets out a deep sigh, he is not letting you go back and you know it.

He wants to protect you, but more, he wants you to be with him and not dancing and showing off for anybody else. Yes, he was jealous and it was time to admit it. His feelings for Chrissy were never as intense as what he feels when he is with you.

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that!” you scream, his eyes open wide.

“Please just-”

He tries to hug you but you don’t let him.

“I'm not your sweetheart! The other day you called me like that too and I- what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t- fuck, what are you talking about?” Eddie is confused, you are acting like you don’t want him around, and that hurts him.

“I- I like you, Eddie! I fucking like you so bad but you… You don’t and I know it!” you have no time to breathe, the alcohol encourages you to confess your feelings.

“Peach-”

“No! No, I- I like you since that first day of tutoring… I’ve liked you since then and you don’t know how fucking hard it is to oh- sleep with you and you- almost fucking kissed me and I panicked. This, you, her- it’s too much ah- go away!” you cry out, your head is spinning and you can feel your temples aching.

This wasn’t planned, future you will kill you for this. But right now in the heat of the moment, you let Eddie know how you feel. Your whole body aches and your heart is shattered.

“I know you like her! Just- I don't want to talk to you right now!”

A salty taste lingers in your mouth, your tears. Your arms ache from the sudden cold breeze as the night gets darker. It’s maybe two or three in the morning. You are drunk and high. Eddie’s brain seems to stop working.

He is quiet, looking at the grass under his feet. It hurts seeing you like this.

“Fuck!” you turn around and start walking, thinking you can walk home from here knowing it’s impossible.

“Hey! Let me take you home”

You stop.

“Please, I won't stay. I’ll drop you off and go to my trailer- you can’t get home by yourself” he is right.

You don’t move. Too heartbroken to say everything else or even turn around to see him. You are ashamed, he can’t even look you in the eyes.

He sees you waiting for him and he asks you to follow him to his van.

The ride home is long and torturous. He didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but you don’t blame him. Who could fall for a mess like you?

You fall asleep in the passenger seat of his van, he opens the door carefully and carries you to your bed. He wants to change your clothes but he knows it is not okay, he does peek at your naked thighs before covering your body with the sheets.

His calloused fingers move the hair off your face “I like you too, peach” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before leaving. You can’t hear him of course, he knows it damn well.

V. Deep fears that the world would divide us.

The last time you talked to Eddie was two weeks ago. He didn’t know how to talk to you since that night, he didn’t know what to tell you. It is now summer break, you are in your bed facing the ceiling and letting the air from your window hit your sweaty body.

You were so bored. Without Eddie it feels like the world just turned gray, you regret everything you said that night. He never should’ve known.

He is now in his trailer, maybe with Chrissy. Your brain starts to think of a hundred scenarios. They could be spending time at the local pool, going to starcourt and eating ice cream, trying on some new clothes, or playing at the arcade.

You miss him. Your whole body aches without him by your side. Your bed feels so empty.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, you are all alone in this gigantic house. It doesn’t feel like home, not without him.

You can’t pick a book and read it to kill time because every book you own is about romance.

You can’t watch movies without Eddie’s sudden comments.

You can’t even watch fucking commercials without him.

So you just let yourself on your bed, waiting for the sheets to swallow you whole.

Night came by after a nap, it was time to close the windows to stop the mosquitoes. It was time to eat so you headed down to the kitchen, the leftovers seem to always keep you company.

You wish he came back. Knocking at your door and getting in. Kissing you.

It doesn’t happen. To you. But it can happen to him.

You take your keys in your hands and head down to the trailer park, it isn’t that late so you go by yourself. With your clammy hands tapping on the steering wheel and a feeling of uncertainty.

It takes you from ten to fifteen minutes to get there and you park your car close to Eddie’s trailer. You’ve given him a ride home before, you know where he lives.

As you get closer to his trailer you hear screams. The door of his trailer opens suddenly and makes you jump. A tall and slightly old man comes out of the trailer, his white tank top is covered with some blood.

No, no, no. You mumble under your breath and run to the trailer. You find Eddie with a cut on his lip, his eye is purple already and his nose is bleeding.

“Eddie?” you whisper, he panics.

“No, no you can’t be here” he gets up from the floor and places his hands on your arms, pushing you out.

“Why? Please I just want to talk”

“You can’t be here! He- if he does something to you I’m never going to forgive myself Please just leave” his breath quickens, and his chest rises up and down. He is nervous, he is scared. The feelings are contagious.

“Come with me, please. Eds-”

“Just fucking leave! please please please, leave right now”

Nothing you do is going to convince him you should stay, as much as you want to. You hear screams of an angry man getting close to the trailer.

Running out back to your car and driving home, the radio becomes an annoying background noise screeching. Your heart is beating so fast out of fear, and your hands are trembling.

You set yourself down on your bed once you get home. You are scared of what could happen to Eddie. You know he is in danger and you also know he doesn’t want to see you.

The tears come back, your eyes are blurry and the walls feel like they are closing in and are about to crush you. You cover yourself with the sheets, as some type of protection, just like when you were little and scared. Yes, you are scared now, so fucking scared. But there is nothing you can do now so you sleep, and you fall asleep crying, again.

VI. I'd kiss you as the lights went out.

The next day goes by quickly, it’s currently midnight and you are sitting in front of the tv watching a random documentary about dolphins. You’ve slept all day so sleep is not an option. A huge bucket of ice cream in your hands gives you a cold feeling of serenity.

A knock on the door makes you jump, the thing you’ve been waiting for.

You open it quickly, and Eddie is there. You look at him with sadness in your eyes, some of his wounds have healed since yesterday.

“Before you say anything… I am sorry, sweetheart” You don’t let him in, and he doesn’t take a step forward “I like you too. I like you so much. I tried to date Chrissy because I thought I could get my mind distracted by the fact that I'm crazy for you. "He licks his lips, he moves his hands in the air as he always does when he explains something or rambles about a thing he loves.

“I was scared to tell you, that night at the party I swear all I could think about was- fuck, I wanted to rip those clothes off of you and kiss every part of your body but I was fucking terrified” his chest rises up and down, his heart is bumping in his ribcage. “I didn’t want to say anything because

I didn’t want to lose you, You are too good to me and I didn’t want you to be with someone like me-”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me” you interrupt, your own heart is beating so fast it could burst.

“I know, I know. That’s why I'm here… is it too late to hang out? Look, I slept all day and some little bird named Steve told me the sunrise at Lovers Lake looks awesome and I really just want to be with you”

You look at him, he is standing at your door confessing his love to you and, weirdly, it doesn’t feel like a dream. It all feels too real, too peaceful.

“A date at midnight? Did you plan this because you look like you even showered”

He lets out a big laugh. You see those dimples you love so much.

“I- I wouldn’t see it as a date because I think we’ve had tons of them” he shakes his head, and his curls bounce with the movement. “Pretty please? Join me on this adventure”

“We must be connected by some kind of thread because I slept all day too” you chuckle, he laughs with you “Sure, I want to be with you. Let me change and I’ll be right back”

You head upstairs quickly as Eddie goes back to his van for something.

With the quickest movements in the world, you manage to get yourself some pretty clothes, a tiny bit of makeup and fix your hair.

Running to the first floor to meet Eddie, your legs stop working as he stands up in your living room with a bouquet.

“You did have this prepared” You are smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt, but you can stop it. After days of missing him, he is now here and everything feels right.

“I did. You look- you look beautiful” he looks at you from the bottom to the top, taking every detail of your figure. “I mean, you always look so beautiful I just-”

You come closer to him, he hands you the bouquet and you take it.

“You are beautiful too, Eds”

Your fingers touch his cheeks, he feels the warmth and breathes in to take everything in. Your scent, your touch, the closeness. Your cheeks have a pink tint from blushing and it makes you look so pretty. He leans in and in a second, his lips are touching yours.

You gasp at the sudden feeling, your whole body electrifies. His hands come to rest on your lower back, keeping you close to him. Your hands travel to his shoulders as you stand on your tippy toes.

His lips trap your bottom lip, sucking in your taste. Your whole heart flutters as your head goes back to catch some air.

“I wanted to do that for so long”

Goosebumps travel from your arms to your lips, missing him already.

“Me too” you bite your lip.

“C’mon, let’s go watch the sunrise sweetheart”

VII. Deep blue but you painted me golden.

The trip to Lovers Lake in the middle of the night resulted in love confessions and a heavy make out session, Eddie packed the back of his van with christmas lights, sheets, and blankets along with some pillows.

You and Eddie sitting in front of each other, his lips crashing into yours as sweet as honey.

“So yeah- that time when you sat down and started tutoring me I fought so hard to pay attention but I just loved the sound of your voice” You take a sip of beer.

“It was hard to teach you when your confused face is just so adorable.

Every pout you gave me was a kiss I wanted to give you” Eddie laughs.

“You can give me all the kisses you want now, I'm all yours”

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, his face glows pink and you let out a chuckle.

“Honey, I will” he takes a sip from his own beer, finishing it.

Alcohol makes both of you giddy, dozy, and dumb. Or maybe it’s just the love you have for each other.

“What time is it?” you murmur against his lips, his hands travel from your waist to the back of your head.

“I have- no idea” he stops, with his head leaned slightly back he watches you. Your lips are puffy and pink, his too. Both of you have a maroon tint on your cheeks. “It’s almost six, we have time” he peeks at the clock on his left hand.

“Alright, c’mere” With your hands placed on his shoulders, you try to get closer to him.

You kiss him. He is addicted to your taste already.

This time the kiss is messy and uncoordinated. His teeth collide with yours, saliva drops from the corner of your mouth.

With a firm hand caressing your back, Eddie helps you fall back with your body pressed against the sheets. Your head rests on a pillow as he gets comfortable on top of you.

You can feel the van getting hotter, a cloud of passion and love around you. Eddie makes a quick move with his knee as it presses against your hot core.

Absent-mindedly you start to grind against his knee, feeling the combination of friction with his sloppy kisses sending chills through your spine.

His lips now travel all the way to your neck, he presses sweet wet kisses against your skin.

“Eddie-” you whisper, letting the air out of your lungs. “I want you”

You have been dreaming about this, he has been dreaming about this.

This moment. This very golden moment is going to live in your head forever.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your collarbone, his lips tingling your skin.

“I’m sure, please”

He takes a break from the kisses, looking at your sweet face.

“Have you ever…?” he asks.

“No,” you bite your lip nervously.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise”

You nod, and he returns to kissing your neck. One of his hands travels to your thighs, he gives a slight massage on them making his way closer to the heat between your legs.

His cock gets hard against his pants as he feels the wet spot between your legs.

“You are so soaking wet, peach-”

With both hands, he takes off your panties, gently. He is so gentle with you.

“And so, so pretty”

Eddie starts to rub your clit with his thumb, his circular motions make your toes curl. It’s a sensation you’ve never felt before. With his mouth pressed against your jaw two of his fingers get inside you slowly, the pain of it quickly goes away and turns into lust. His fingers move in and out, making sure not to hurt you and make you feel good.

Your back curls and your thigh touches the bulge on his pants.

“Eds, please”

“What do you want, princess? Say it”

“I want you to fuck me”

Your voice makes his heart flutter. He leans in to kiss you more as he curls your fingers inside you.

“Oh god, Ed-Eddie” you mewl, your head too giddy to make up words.

“Good girl” his voice is now deeper, and his pupils dilate as his body perks up with electricity.

His fingers leave your pussy, you whine and he tells you not to worry.

He is gentle on taking your clothes off, smiling after admiring every inch of you. He wets his lips with his tongue admiring your figure.

“You are so fucking beautiful, princess”

“You too, baby”

The mood has clearly changed, you are still so horny and whining for each other. But Eddie has decided to take his time to make you feel like the princess you are.

Your hands help him take his clothes off, you admire his bare chest and your eyes focus on his tattoos. When he takes his pants and boxers off it is inevitable for you to take a look.

Your mouth waters at the sight. Eddie caresses your cheek and leaves small kisses on your lips as he goes inside you. You feel his hot cock

inside you, it twitches as you stretch and leave out a louder moan.

A grin shows up on Eddie’s face as he thrusts into you. Your nails scratch his back slightly. He feels his skin burn.

“Feeling good?”

“Yes, god yes”

He groans at the same time he increases the speed. Your moans get louder and he kisses your neck again, his bare chest meets yours and you whimper. He is moving on top of you, his cock inside you, and his chest rubs your nipples.

The tiny knot in your stomach untangles as chills go down your spine. You moan as your orgasm comes to you.

“You are such a good girl, go on cum for me”

His words are sweet, he keeps praising you as you finally come.

“So so good baby, I’m going to-”

He moves back but your hands are quick to tangle around his neck, not letting him leave.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over me”

Your encouraging words get into Eddie’s head, his thrust becomes sloppier as he relaxes and he comes into you as requested.

The hot sticky combination of cum slides down your legs as Eddie hugs you and pulls you to him to the side. His back is now pressed against the dirty sheets, your head falls in his chest.

He kisses your forehead and runs his hand through your back.

The sun starts to show up.

Eddie leans forward to open the back doors of his van, he comes back to his place next to you as quickly as possible and hugs you harder.

The lake glows with a yellow tint, the water now shows a baby blue color.

“I love you, sweetheart”

Surprised you turn your head to look at him, you give him a big smile.

“I love you too”

You stay there a couple of minutes, touching each other and loving each other.

there it is! my little baby. feedback is appreciated REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR! and DON’T throw a punch like it has been described!!!

tagging everyone who interacted, tysm 💕

@ali-r3n @witchwolflea @ghostlyfleur @littlegingerbat @live-love-be-unique @expiredcum21 @emma77645 @silent-stories @hellfirenacht @eddiemunson95 @tenthmoon

#leia writes ⊹ ꒱#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x f!oc #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x best friend

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muniimyg · 1 month ago

Note

omg u should definitely do a scenario where oc is on some kind of business trip away from zion and jk and they are both sulky or arguing w each other all the time and they facetime oc (although with her taking off work for a year it might be too late for this but it could always just be an in the future thing!)

jungkook feels defeated.

he’s over it.

he’s fucking done.

it’s well past zion’s bedtime and he has tried everything. from stories, warm milk, even a short lullaby—still, zion is tucked stubbornly under the covers, his little face buried in the pillow.

jungkook sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, when his phone buzzes. it’s a facetime call from you.

he swipes to answer, and your bright smile fills the screen, the familiar warmth in your eyes immediately lifting some of the stress from his shoulders.

“hi honey,” you say softly, “how’s it going?”

jungkook groans, turning the camera to show zion pouting into the pillow.

“he won’t talk to me. he won’t even look at me,” jungkook says, voice laced with frustration. “he only wants you.”

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. “isn’t it past his bedtime?

“that’s the least of my problems,” jungkook whines. “i genuinely think our son hates me.”

you gasp. “you’re exaggerating.”

“i’m not.”

taking jungkook’s stern face seriously, you sigh and attempt to put things into perspective for him.

“honey, you two are too alike… that’s the problem.“

zion’s little head lifts at the sound of your voice, his big eyes peeking out from the pillow.

“mommy?”

“hi, baby,” you say, your tone softening instantly. “what’s going on? are you giving daddy a hard time?”

zion pouts. “he’s mean to me.”

jungkook’s eyes widen. mean to him? when? in between playing with him, feeding him, and bribing him with ice cream and new toys—mean fits in where?

you snicker at jungkook’s reaction. “zion, you have such a big heart. i know you do, my love. i think you can make some space for daddy for be in it.”

“but why?”

“zi, i love daddy… so i want you to love him too.”

zion fidgets, his face scrunching up as he mumbles, “fine…”

“zion…”

“i don’t know, mommy! i just… i miss you. i don’t like it when daddy reads my bedtime stories! it’s boring. he can sing good but he doesn’t even know the words to my favourite songs!”

your heart melts as you watch him pout, and jungkook sighs, clearly sharing the sentiment.

“zion, you know daddy is trying his best, right?” you say gently. “and i love him very much, so i need you to be nicer to him, okay?”

zion shifts, looking guilty.

“i’m sorry, daddy,” he whispers, glancing at jungkook through the screen. “i don’t know why i’m being mean… i just miss mommy a lot. she’s gooder at bedtime than you.”

jungkook softens, his earlier frustration fading.

“i miss her too, buddy,” he says quietly, reaching out to rub zion’s back. “but we gotta be a team while she’s away, right?”

zion nods slowly, finally sitting up. “okay… i’ll be nice now. i’m too sleepy to be mean.”

you smile, warmth spreading through you at the sight of the two most important people in your life working it out.

“that’s my boy. thank you for being so sweet,” you say, and then look at jungkook, who gives you a grateful smile.

“we’ll be fine,” jungkook reassures you, his voice softer now. “just… hurry home, okay?”

you laugh, nodding.

“i’ll be back before you know it.”

jungkook looks at you, gaze soft and heart full. he knows you’re right, but he kept help but feel uneasy. he truly misses you.

“goodnight, honey. i love you.”

you blow him a kiss and then lower your camera angle to your baby bump. smiling, you pat your tummy.

“goodnight honey. we love you too.”

#ask muni #bts scenario #jk dilf #jungkook marriage au #bts marriage au #bts imagine #jk x yn

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howtofightwrite · 5 months ago

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i feel like, when it comes to people trying to use violence to knock people out - rather than avoiding methods that could cause permanent injury entirely, the previous anon(s) could just go for it while acknowledging the potential consequences in-writing?

so we can say that maybe, a kidnapper knocks another person out via head injury, and the KIDNAPPER doesn't care; but when the person is rescued the rescuers are worried for them because 'what do you mean you were hit in the head?!' and immediately checked for a concussion.

one could also have it so that the person doesn't know what head trauma or other bodily harm can cause and be appropriately horrified if/when they learn - or, if it's a character who uh. doesn't care for their body or health as much, they could hear this and refuse to care. follow what the character would do on that

they don't even need to actually have the person get a permanent injury. there can be a hospital scene or first-aid responder scene where they check the victim's head and go 'you are very. VERY lucky to not have a permanent brain injury from this', and insist on them to keep monitoring for any future symptoms.

there's a lot of other ways to go about knocking someone out, but iirc this will also apply to other methods of forced unconsciousness, like sleeping pills, sleeping gas or chloroform. in real life, it's always going to risk extra consequences because it involves forcing someone's bodily functions to shut down, if temporarily

and that shouldn't stop them from writing anyway, since fiction is often going to stretch the realm of belief a little with improbable situations, y'know? a lot of stories already take liberties with it. but it's both admirable and a good thing when someone wants to be more faithful to reality, regardless, so that's why i'd like to give my own thoughts.

if the person trying to find a non-lethal angle to knocking someone out is really worried, they could just make a disclaimer saying 'unrealistic depictions of violence/recovery' or 'creative liberties taken with the consequences of bodily harm' at the start of the story and go with their previous plans

but it's perfectly fine to just write as is while acknowledging the situation in-story too, is what i feel. or even have the character actually suffer the consequences. that angle is always interesting when explored.

timeskips are also a way to cheat on the recovery period, if you want it to be really realistic. imagine this scenario; a person gets knocked unconscious during a kidnapping. they wake up and manage to escape with a concussion - but they still have the concussion from the initial assault, along with other injuries during the hostage period. they are promptly hospitalised.

timeskip to several months after. the person has recovered! (or mostly recovered, depending).

a new kidnapper enters the scene! but they don't want the victim to actually be hurt, and the waiting period was hell, so they either just get their bouncer to grab them with no chance for reprieve, nab them while asleep, or threaten them via gun to head/consequences for someone else/etc to get in the car. no actual knocking out forcefully, only unconsciousness is falling asleep in the car.

consequences make for an interesting narrative too, is what i'm trying to say; and there's no need to shy away from it, but rather acknowledge that reality as fact.

I normally wouldn't light up an ask like this, but it is doing a lot of mental gymnastics to try to skirt around the central problems with violence.

So, let's start at the top: Acknowledging a problematic behavior as problematic can still result in the author endorsing that behavior, if they present the specific examples of that behavior in a positive light. If you're having characters casually knocking people out, you are endorsing inflicting extremely hazardous, and potentially life-altering injuries onto people, “but, it's okay, because I didn't kill them.”

The problem comes from an author wanting their upbeat, happy-go-lucky protagonist to also be an absolute bad ass, without interrogating the ethical issues inherent to their “heroic activities.” Worse, in many cases, they want their character to be perceived as a good person, regardless of the horrors they inflict on their fellow human beings.

The last time I covered this, I took a passing swipe at Batman, but it remains a relevant factor to consider about a lot of action hero characters. He engages in absolutely disproportionate violence against people who are engaging in criminal activity because socioeconomic factors that are beyond their control.

A lot of fictional violence gets framed in contexts where the nobility of the protagonist is preserved either because, “they don't kill people,” or, they specifically limit their violence to groups that are “socially acceptable,” targets.

In fact, you can even see an example of the latter in the listing above, with the express targeting of, “kidnappers.” Now, I have no love for human traffickers, but seriously consider for a second that this specific, highly-specialized, career path was called out as the group to engage in this behavior. I'm sorry, “why?” What is it about a kidnapper that makes them more likely to be willing to inflict harm on their victim than some other group? But, that's not the point. The point is so that when your protagonist does truly horrible things to those kidnappers, they're still “a good person,” at the end of the day. (There's also a little goofiness about kidnappers in the ask, because they care more about the physical health of their victim than most criminals would. Think about it this way, a mugger wants your wallet, and you're just an incidental obstetrical between you and their target, for a kidnapper, you are the wallet. They want their victim reasonably intact. Whether that is for a later sale, or for a ransom, they don't get paid if their victim is “non-functional.”)

Actually, a really messed up example of this, on this blog, was a few years back, when someone was asking about their “vigilante” characters gunning down drug addicts. Which, yeah, that's pretty fucked up.

When the author botches their, “acceptable targets,” (which is the point of that Batman critique, by the way), the entire illusion can start to break apart. And it can really expose the idea that you're trying to pretend your character is a good person, because their actions target people who the author felt were, “undeserving,” of continuing to breathe.

Falling Down (1993), with Michael Douglas and Robert Duvall is an excellent interrogation of some of these concepts. I don't want to say too much else, because the film is open to interpretations, (some of which are extremely scathing), and I think the film speaks for itself better when no one is telling you how to interpret it. Just be prepared for an uncomfortable viewing.

Back when we were both regularly active, ScriptMedic and I used to have a bit of a back and forth about pharmaceutical means to subdue someone.

Chloroform is a classic example in fiction, and it was popular in crime thrillers from 80-90 years ago, in an era when ready clinical information to laypersons was far more limited. First of all, the rag over the mouth doesn't work. This is a gas used for anesthesia, and you need a lot more than a single vial to keep someone under. Second, you need to keep applying it to keep them under. Again, that rag isn't going to hold enough. Third, if you somehow got enough chloroform onto that rag, it would sedate everyone in the vicinity, because it's an anesthetic gas. (The liquid form is extremely volatile, and will quickly convert to a gas at room temperature. That gas is what is supposed to knock someone out.) Fourth it used to be a common additive in toothpaste, and frequently occurs as an out-gassing from polymers and adhesives. Popular culture hilariously overestimates how potent this stuff is. You need a lot to put someone under, and you need a trained anesthesiologist to keep them under without accidentally killing them. Also, prolonged use results in liver damage and cardiac issues, which is why we no longer use it for anesthesia. If you try to put someone under without an anesthesiologist, and you manage to sedate them... they'll die. Turns out, it also suppresses the respiratory system, and they suffocate.

It's a similar story with most anesthetic gasses, and in fact, chloroform is one of the “sleeping gasses.” Not all of them have the liver or heart issues, but none of them are, “fire and forget.”

ScriptMedic was a fan of Ketamine for knocking out characters. And, to be fair, Ketamine is fantastic for anesthesiologists. Exceeding the necessary dosage just puts the patient out for longer, which may be inconvenient, but it's vastly preferable to, death. The problem is, it's not great for fire and forget tranq adventures. Ketamine does not suppress salivation. Which isn't a big deal on the operating table, as you can pretty easily keep someone from drowning in their own spittle, but if you just inject some poor mook, and leave them on the curb, they're going to drool themselves to death.

Actual tranquilizer guns are a real thing. They're frequently used in animal control. You don't use these on people because TV lied to you. You get darted, and if you decide to keep the dart in your neck as a peculiar fashion statement, you've still got somewhere between fifteen minutes to an hour to finish up whatever you were doing, before someone rudely added a nap to your schedule. Oh, yeah, and if the dose is too high, these anesthetics can kill you. Dosage calculations with these things are educated guesses at best, and it's why sometimes animal control really can't afford to use tranq guns. It's not callousness, it's a calculus between the threat the animal poses to others, and if they have the time to wait and see if the tranqs work.

What you really need to not shy away from, is the idea that if your character engages in violence, there are going to be consequences for that violence. Unlike in real life, as the author, you are responsible for applying those consequences to the participants. This creates a real problem when you have authors who intentionally try to skirt around the parts of the events they find uncomfortable it reduces the impact of that violence.

To drag up that Batman example, the reason it's a slightly peculiar and subversive take is because it's outside the scope of the comics. Batman goes in, beats up muggers, comes out completely unharmed, and it's all okay because we know Batman's a good person, doing this for good reasons, and the muggers are still alive to reform and become better people in society.

Except, if you step away from the idea of a superhero comic, none of that makes any kind of sense.

The story you're trying to tell doesn't need every instance of violence to be followed with an extensive interrogation of the philosophical implications of what your characters did. However, if you're trying to tell a story where violence is a spectacle that happens in a regular rhythm, it's not going to hit in the same way.

I'm pretty sure I've said this many times, but violence has diminishing returns in your story. The more you use violence (particularly non-consequential violence), the less it will matter, and like any other tool you can call upon, the less your audience will respond to it.

There's nothing wrong with putting some violence with your story, but the one thing you do need to do is be honest with yourself about it. You can lie to your readers. (Though, that's something you want to be very careful of.) But, if you lie to yourself it will harm your story. Sometimes that does require doing some serious soul searching about what you're trying to do. Because, what you're trying to do right now is tell me that you want serious violence, without really coming to grips with how that constrains your options about how violence and physical harm work.

Again, there's nothing wrong with popcorn action. But if you want to write breezy fights between superheroes, you really need to admit, to yourself, that's what you're doing. Your story will be better for it.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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lilac-5ky · 11 months ago

Text

The Assistant (officeAU!Geto x Fem!Reader x officeAU!Gojo)

based on this request, tumblr hates me.

Plot: Senior Partner at the prestigious Gojo Group's legal department, Geto Suguru never expected to fall for his newly-hired personal assistant. But when his lifelong best friend and boss takes an interest in you, Suguru fins his own feelings rapidly escalating into an uncontrollable obsession.

Tags: Office!AU, Geto POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Secretary!Reader, Lawyer!Geto, CEO!Gojo, Office Sex, Oral Sex (m.receiving), Doggy Style, Degradation, Praise, Pining, Jealousy, Obsession, Sexual Coercion, Abuse of Authority, don't get your hopes up; this isn't a threesome, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Number one bestie, you still owe me Gojo smut. But here, 14k words to quench your thirst for Suguwu.

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

“How about this one? She’s pretty hot, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru waves yet another paper in Suguru’s face, his excitement wearing off the moment he catches his best friend pinching his nose bridge between his fingers.

“Satoru, we are picking associate candidates, not swimming-suit contest winners.” Suguru chides in a calm tone, crossing out the woman’s name from his list with a red line that’s identical to the line above and the ones that rank above it too.

This is the 78th candidate whose CV is rejected by the two men, their task of finding Suguru the perfect assistant turning rather daunting after five emptied cups of instant coffee.

Suguru insisted he could’ve done it alone—similar to how he’d insisted he could’ve kept handling his own affairs by himself and argued against a congratulatory party in honor of his promotion. But certain wishes outweigh others, and in the legal department of Gojo Enterprises, Satoru’s word is as good as the law—one of the many perks that come with being the president’s only son.

“What’s wrong with swimming suit contests?” The white-haired man sulks, long limbs hanging gracelessly from over his chair’s backrest. He zooms in on the woman’s picture one final time before crumpling the paper into a ball that’s flung straight into the garbage bin by the door. "Hey, that was a three-pointer!"

Sigh.

Even though the two of them have been friends since Suguru can remember himself, sometimes it feels as if only one of them outgrew their fourth-grade selves. It’s nothing new for Satoru to confuse play time with work time, yet as the man who will come to inherit the entire Gojo empire, he should at least focus on how to better the company, not tear it apart.

“Nothing wrong with swimming suits or gravure models, but we should choose someone based on their skills. Remember what your father always says: a business is only as successful as—”

“‘Its team is,’ yeahyeahyeah , spare me the preach. My ears are tired of that old man’s nagging.” Satoru spins around in his chair, the rollers squeaking under his weight. “Just because someone’s pretty doesn’t mean they can’t be competent. Take me for example.” His thumb and forefinger shape an angle below his chin.

A quiet chuckle evades Suguru as he sorts the files before him and slides the next batch across Satoru’s side of the table. “Fine, if we don’t find someone who checks both criteria, then you can be my assistant.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Satoru rips another instant coffee packet open. “My hands are full already.” Throwing his head back, he empties the powder into his mouth and washes it around until the sugary substance dissolves.

“I can see that,” Suguru murmurs, masking his distaste by returning to work.

The stacks of paper soon decline, with Satoru needing a cursory look to dismiss the candidates and Suguru meticulously processing their accomplishments down to their high school extracurricular activities. Work at the firm is hard enough as is. He’s seen far too many young, ambitious interns crack under pressure and pop pills into their mouths like candy just so they can keep up.

Narrowing down his options, Suguru gets a decent idea of what he’s looking for: adaptability, flexibility, and drive. Those traits are common to all three finalists, with two of them having touched a variety of fields and the other having a background in volunteer work.

He’s all but decided on candidate number 99 when a paper plane crashes into the side of his head.

“Oops!” Satoru’s shoulders scrunch up coyly, though both he and his partner know it was very much intentional.

Suguru catches the plane, appreciating the craftsmanship behind the carefully folded wings, before he sets it on the table.

“Satoru.” His voice gains a slight edge after he spots candidate 42’s face decorating the underside of the aircraft, a comically large mustache drawn on top. “Was anyone else to your liking, or did the rest become fodder for your fleet?”

He watches his friend fish a paper crane out of his jacket, clearly pleased with himself, and he has every right to be, considering the paper is seamlessly trimmed without any scissors. Cute. Suguru smiles, withholding his praise lest it become another point of distraction.

Rolling his chair away, Satoru jumps up and slams the desk with enough force to break it. “Number 98!” He declares.

“98?” Suguru asks, and in seconds, Satoru is found hovering above his shoulder, one hand drumming against the leather chair and the other covering the (presumed) woman’s picture.

“Good grades, prestigious papers, and all that education shit you’re so fond of.” His forefinger trails between the lines. “University of Tokyo, Department of—blah blah , Essex something something, worked three years as a paralegal for the Kamos. Whole damn package, and the best thing?” He draws his palm away, slowly enough to build anticipation. “She’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Satoru, I told you—”

Whatever was supposed to complete that sentence withers at the tip of Suguru’s tongue, amber irises blown as they take in every detail of your face, animating your features as if you’re truly there with them, and for a moment, he tricks himself into thinking you are.

He sees your lips—those pretty lips he swears taste like honey without kissing them—drawing away from your teeth, the mellifluous sound of your laughter coating the rumble of prints being made somewhere in the background. He knows that a picture can’t possibly hold such power, and yet the subtle floral notes in your perfume reach him, prevailing so easily over the stench of ink and coffee and enchanting him into agreeing with his friend.

She is gorgeous. Perhaps the most gorgeous woman he’s laid eyes on.

You are.

“Come on, Suguru. This one’s super cute!” Satoru argues in your favor, his jaw piercing his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, if you’re not hiring her, then I am. I can always lay off one of my—”

“Looks like you are off the hook, Satoru. This one will do.”

“And this is the kitchen. I recommend making the most of our espresso maker or heading to the cafeteria on the first floor—unless you don’t mind your coffee tasting like watered-down sugar.” Suguru nods toward the pyramid of instant coffee boxes stacked in the corner, conscious of the doe eyes that track his every gesture.

The picture barely did you any justice. You are so much prettier in person with your well-fitting two-piece suit and the pocket notebook you carry, penning down everything he says, down to the locations of kitchenware and the names of employees you meet along the way. He can’t tell whether you’re not confident enough in your ability to memorize things or simply overzealous. No matter the case, he finds your little habit endearing, but then again, the opinion of a man who endeared himself to you ahead of your acquaintance is not to be taken at face value.

“What’s the matter?” He cocks his head to the side, gaze drawn to the pen stilled in your grasp. “Too much info?”

“More like too many handles and blinking lights. One wrong button, and the whole building detonates.” You glance at him over the pages, your tone delineating a smile he cannot see.

He returns it, piecing the bang that typically never bothers him behind his ear. “Sato—I mean, Senior Partner Gojo received this as a gift from Zen’in Naobito when we moved to this building.”

“Is that so? I thought Zen’in Group was notoriously at odds with Gojo Group.”

“Oh, they are. But it’s common business tactics to trade one overpriced gift for another to see who breaks bank first.” Suguru hums, grabbing a clean mug from the rack and initiating the twelve-step process required to brew a single cup of coffee. “If I remember correctly, our side sent them a private sushi chef. His work hours were paid; the fish, not so much. Sugar?” He smirks, stirring the amount you call in your coffee.

“What happened after? Off the record.” You tap your notebook shut, and the smile he thought he heard is there, seen on your lips and felt in his heart, warmer than the beverage his hand offers.

“They kept him around for about a month before politely declining our generosity. I guess there’s a limit to how much bluefin tuna the rich can stomach.” His narrowed eyes crinkle fondly while he watches you blow the steam from your face and take your first sip. “Hope it’s to your liking.”

“The coffee or the story?”

“Both. But mostly the coffee.”

“It’s really good.” You nod appreciatively. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” Suguru disposes of the used coffee beans, failing to, however, rid himself of the soft smile perching on his lips. “It’ll take a while to get used to it, so feel free to come to me whenever you need more coffee. Or another story.”

“I could never disturb you for something like that.” You shake your head along with your hands. “What kind of assistant asks her boss to make her coffee?”

The word “boss” carries a negative connotation coming from your lips; the few inches that keep you apart rapidly expand into miles, and he hates that. It’s a gap he doesn’t want to see widened any further.

“How about you think of us as partners, then?” Suguru takes a leap while the distance’s short. “None of us gets paid to make coffee either way.”

You seem hesitant to agree, holding the weight of his stare until your determination crumbles. “Fine. But only till I get the hang of it. Then you’ll be greeted with a cup of freshly brewed espresso on your desk every morning.”

“That’s very thoughtful, but I’d rather be served tea instead. Red with one sugar?”

Overzealous , he decides as you hurriedly flip through the pages to scribble his order.

He wonders what your handwriting is like. Whether it’s scrawled and stumpy or eloquent and delicate, which isn’t the most fascinating thing to wonder about a person, but he can’t help himself from trying to pierce through the hardcover for a glimpse at your thoughts, unwittingly attracting your attention.

You share a look that flourishes over a second and withers within an eternity, its remains scattering into an airy chuckle as the machine cuts in with a sudden choo .

“I’m s-sorry!” You bow your head, bottom lip sticking out while you fail to suppress your amusement. “I didn’t expect it to sound like this. It’s just like—”

“Mhm, it does resemble the bullet train to Sendai a bit, doesn’t it?”

Suguru doesn’t necessarily think of himself as a funny man. But witnessing the little dance your fingers perform as you struggle to keep the cup steady, he might as well be the funniest man in the whole wide world.

“Shall we get going?” He prompts. “I still haven’t shown you to your office.”

“Please lead the way. Partner.” You add, unaware that the man who cruises you by almost trips over his feet. In his mind, at least.

Walking among the cubicles where various paralegals have their noses buried within tower-height stacks of memoranda, Suguru goes over your shared schedule and what is expected of you in the upcoming days, silently praying that you don’t question his insistence to wipe his sweaty palms against his slacks. He hasn’t been this stressed since he and Satoru were studying for the bar exam, and even then, it wasn’t him he was stressing about.

He recites, and you diligently take notes, up until the compact desks lessen and you find yourselves standing in front of an open space with its own reception. The senior partners’ offices—or, in other words, your boss’ and his boss’ offices.

“Hey, Shoko. Got anything for me?” Suguru asks the disinterested brunette seated at the front desk.

The woman’s eyes dart between the two of you. She acknowledges your presence with a curt bow, hardly bothering to put out her cigarette in the tray behind her. “Just this.” She pulls a yellow folder from one of the drawers and hands it to him, smoke wafting when she speaks. “It’s a letter of intent; Nanami brought it himself. Says it’s important.

“How much longer do I have to keep this up?” Shoko asks, a red imprint from where her wrist was previously propping her cheek against her elbow.

Suguru takes out the papers, skimming through the lines before stuffing them back inside and giving her a tiny smile.

“Thank you for your service, Shoko. You are fired.”

“Yay!” The woman excites in the same deadpan tone, grabbing her bag and almost knocking you down with how quick she is to flee the company premises.

“Is she—”

“Don’t worry about her.” Suguru’s attention returns to you. “She’s just a friend filling in for us.”

The way he uses the term friend is deliberate. Normally, he wouldn’t care what people make of his and Satoru’s relationship with the third member of their group, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

Tucking the folder under his armpit, Suguru proceeds to lead you to your office, situated in the same open space although much closer to the wooden door that spells his full name and title in capital gold lettering—another of Satoru’s fanciful insistences.

Your desk is half as wide as the reception’s, yet twice as spacious as the cubicle ones. The company’s logo bounces across an idle computer screen, dust particles dancing amidst the glaring light of high noon. There is a telephone and some stationery that’s either sorted in a silver pencil holder or frames the hefty planner at the center, though it’s the sticky notes dangling from its pages that end up piquing your interest.

Suguru suffered through the teasing of a lifetime for spending his entire weekend summarizing case files just so your first days wouldn’t be hectic.

(“Good for you, Suguru.” Satoru snickered from his sumptuous recliner, a tennis ball bouncing from the wall back to his hand. “Getting your first crush at the age of 28. What’s next? Drawing your initials in little hearts for her to see how well your names fit together?”

“Shut up." Suguru clicked his pen against his head, stretching his feet below the workbench-turned kotatsu. "Some people happen to function better in organized environments.”

“Mhm , all I’m hearing is Suguru and Y/N sitting on a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Satoru sang at an annoyingly gleeful pitch.)

“This,” you reel him back to the present. “You did this?”

Your eyes gleam like twin stars in their sockets. Clear, brilliant, and bright, but most importantly, boring into his.

Good for you, Suguru. Getting your first crush at the age of 28.

Suguru nearly waves his hand over his face to disperse his friend’s voice. It’s not a crush. He doesn’t think it is. Admitting to what is beautiful and reacting to it is a natural human response that has nothing to do with feelings of any kind. This is ephemeral.

“Y-yes.” A dry cough clears the hoarseness in his throat. “Thought it’d make your life easier if you knew where to focus instead of running around like a headless chicken.” He shifts through the pages in your hands. “Naturally, the indicators attached to closer dates are more urgent than the ones pushed further back, though they’re also sorted by color. Green means you can do it at your leisure, while bright pink means—”

“Danger, death, don’t skip?” You smile, and he nods eagerly. A bit too eagerly. Just like a schoolboy who was praised for giving the right answer, even though you were the one who answered correctly.

Maybe kissing on a tree wouldn’t be so bad.

“Thank you for doing this. And for hiring me.” You suddenly grow timid, bottom lip trapped in a shy smile as you extend your hand to him. “Working for this company is a great opportunity on its own, but working under—with ,” you correct yourself, “someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.” A chuckle slips. “Apologies, the different colored sticky notes got to me.”

Soft. So damn soft. Your hand is so fucking soft, enveloping his own, that he curses himself for not coming up with the idea of a handshake when he first welcomed you at the lobby. It is a problem because he doesn’t want to let go, and when he does, he does so begrudgingly, his rougher finger pads dragging over your smooth skin and lingering above your polished fingernails with such delicacy as if they were freshly bloomed rosebuds.

“There are more in the drawer.” He nods toward the first drawer, a smirk coming as an afterthought. “Paper clips too.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a stapler in there too!” You gasp dramatically.

“Guess you’re gonna have to see for yourself.” His head droops to the side, and he smiles.

Your head droops to the side, and you smile back. You. Smile. Back.

The notion settles in his heart before registering in his brain, nestling where nothing can pry it off and inking itself as an indelible memory that’s bound to haunt him throughout the review of the Tengen shares redistribution, on which he better get started.

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

He manages about three steps away when your voice has him stopping in his tracks.

“Mr. Geto, you shouldn’t have!”

There are quite a few things he shouldn’t have done. For starters, waking up two hours ahead of his alarm, mixing the salt with the sugar in his morning tea (though something tells him that was the work of someone else), wearing his watch on the wrong wrist, and letting himself be smitten with his brand new assistant, whom he’s barely known for half a day. But you don’t know about any of those things. At least he hopes you don’t.

So, which one is it?

He turns around slowly, jaw almost dropping at the flower field spanning between your arms, roses redder than the blood boiling in his veins and peonies pinker than the tinge rising high on your cheeks—an arrangement bound with ivory wrapping paper.

“How do you like your welcoming gift?” The harbinger of disaster, conveniently known as his best friend, boss, and apparent competitor, makes his entrance.

“You are—”

“Gojo Satoru—local entrepreneur of the year, number one in Forbes’ 30 under 30, featured on the cover of Times magazine, most eligible bachelor in the world after his highness, the Archduke of Austria, and ringleader of this establishment—in the flesh!” He introduces himself like a certain character from Game of Thrones would, taking an excessively dramatic bow and rushing to your side with a wolfish smile that sharpens his otherwise gentle features.

“And you must be Y/N, right?” Without hesitation, Satoru hops into first name basis, cerulean eyes casting an indiscreet look over his sunglasses as he bends forward, hands kept on his knees. “My, you are even more beautiful in person! The picture did you no justice at all!”

And just like that, every single word that’d steadily been brewing in Suguru’s mind is taken away from him, Satoru praising you with the same ease and unparalleled confidence he bought the extravagant bouquet in your embrace, one that befits a lifelong lover more than a newly acquainted colleague.

“Mr. Gojo, I—I don’t know what to say.” Your eyes remain glued to the flowers, tense shoulders slightly squirming.

“Hmm, how about you start with dropping the honorifics? I hate having barriers between me and my employees.” He didn’t seem to hate barriers when he made Ijichi address him as Grand Emperor Gojo for a month straight as punishment. “We are all the same age here. Call me Gojo unless,” he smirks playfully, tilting his head to where you can no longer escape him, “you feel bold enough to call me Satoru.”

“Satoru.” The monotone intonation of his name carries a warning the white-haired man heeds, sparing you in favor of using his friend’s shoulder as an armrest.

“Suguru! Are you done with showing our”—our?—“lovely new assistant around?”

“What’s with the flowers?”

“The flowers?” Satoru chuckles boisterously. “What are you talking about? That’s how I welcome every new member of our team!”

“I don’t remember receiving any flowers when I signed my contract.” A mumble is met with a light elbow to his neck.

“You get paid enough to afford your own.” Satoru huffs, switching back to his amicable persona in the blink of an eye—your watchful eye that’s been studying them without daring to interfere. Another chuckle, accompanied by a poke to Suguru's cheek. “Tulips or dahlias? Name it, and I’ll turn your office into a greenhouse.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Are the two of you close?” Your voice forces the two men to break from each other, a furtive glance shared among them.

“Suuuuper close!” Satoru squeezes his friend’s shoulders into another unwanted embrace. “Been best friends since—third grade, was it? Hah, remember the time you called principal Yaga mom during morning assembly, and he started growing out his beard ‘cause he thought he wasn’t manly enough? Hilarious.”

Anger seethes in Suguru’s guts like a shaken can of soda about to combust, fizzling out before it can reach its boiling point. “Satoru.” He grits his teeth. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the shareholder meeting?”

“The shareholder—” He repeats, almost surprised, laughing awkwardly to himself. “Oh, turns out I wasn’t needed much. Left Ijichi in charge; he should be fine. Probably .”

A caricature of Ijichi suffering a mental breakdown while trying to placate those senile, cymbal-hitting monkeys plays in both their heads, barring yours.

“Ijichi is President Gojo’s personal assistant.” Suguru explains, pinching Satoru’s sleeve away from his body—except he doesn’t budge. “He’s been working under Satoru for the past four months as his secretary, reporting directly to his father since his only son wasn’t so good at budget handling and had his allowance cut. Isn’t that right, Satoru?”

“Let’s not talk about such tedious subjects in front of Y/N.” The man pulls away at once, running a hand through messy strands of white.

“I actually don’t mind—”

“Measuring up to all your quirks and abiding by your crazy filing system should bore her enough on its own.” He cuts you off, speaking behind his palm as if his words are meant solely for you. “Has Suguru shown you his little planner? Took him two all-nighters to put it together, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

He rests assured in his victory, not counting on you being the one who knocks him down a peg.

“Mhm, he already did, and I already thanked him. I’m a firm believer that a clear desk means a clear mind, and a clear mind means efficiency.” The flowers are at last unloaded upon your desk, their lengthy stems covering about two-thirds of the furniture. “Cluttering your workspace with a bunch of unnecessary items will only stagger your progress and make you fall behind. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Gojo?”

It’s rare to catch Satoru at a loss for words, yet there he stands, completely still and utterly speechless at your mercy, his expression akin to that of a wrongfully sprayed kitten.

The two of you turn to Suguru, seeking some sort of recognition that would settle the score. Any other person in his shoes would side with the authority in the room, but your referee decides to sit this one out.

He knows what Satoru is thinking. Substance is dull without style, and tri-colored dango tastes best in spring. He never had to choose one over the other, but giving you a piece of his mind would make him look indecisive—or worse, shallow—and he doesn’t want that. He wants to look good in front of you, or else he wouldn’t have worn his most expensive suit and bailed out of the most important meeting of the month.

He dug his own grave, and unexpectedly, the helping hand that pulls him out belongs to the one who first cast dirt upon his casket.

“Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Gojo. They might not have a place on my desk, but they’ll sure make a lovely centerpiece for my table at home. Peonies, right?” Your smile is effortlessly disarming. “I don’t know much about flowers, but I hear they symbolize good fortune.”

“They do?” Satoru asks, slapping the stupefied expression off his face. “I mean, yeah! Of course they do!” He bounces back, soft dimples obliterating a deep-carved frown. “I hope your time here brings you lots of good fortune. I know the place already seems more fortunate with you around.”

You chuckle warmly, locking eyes with an impressed Suguru. No one’s ever made Satoru both lose face and helped him save some over the span of a single five-minute conversation. No one but Suguru himself.

He made the right choice by hiring you.

“The rumors about the future head of the company were true. You really are everything they make you out to be.”

“Huh? What rumors? What do they say about me?” Satoru chases you to your desk, an imaginary tail wagging behind him as he watches you pick up your notebook and flip to a blank page.

“How do you drink your coffee?” A tap of your pen. “I know it’s not much, but...I’d like to repay your kindness.”

Oh no. Here we go again.

“I’m pretty easy. I drink my espresso with six sugar cubes, my cappuccino with nine pumps of caramel syrup, sweet condensed milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle on top—and, of course, the six sugar cubes. In the summer— oh crap, I almost forgot, I also like mocha, both white and regular, again same toppings—I usually go for iced lattes with—”

Two minutes into taking his order, and about twenty seconds after your pen stops moving, you glance at Suguru for help. The man simply shrugs, amusement hinted in his cat-like eyes.

There is a good reason why the kitchen’s loaded on instant coffee, and that’s because it’s the only thing that can quench Satoru’s sweet tooth on the spot. You’re going to have to figure that out on your own, just like every other unfortunate soul in this company did when they stupidly offered to treat him.

“That reminds me!” A finger snap concludes his monologue. “Suguru, you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday?”

“You mean one-plus-one Tuesday. Ah, you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to my weekly croquette sandwich; wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if it wasn't for it. Erm , and you ,” he says, again running his fingers through his hair as he bestows you with another laid-back smile. “The two highlights of my week.”

Suguru sighs, convincing himself it’s the prospect of leaving so much work behind that doesn’t excite him and not the sight of Satoru’s affections being subtly reciprocated.

“So, you coming?” Satoru asks.

“I’m gonna have to pass.”

“What?” He gapes, hand clutching his chest like a child who just found out they’re adopted. “Why?”

“Because we are meeting with Tengen’s representatives at the end of the week and they’ll withdraw their investment unless we have a clear model for their merger.” Suguru reminds him. “Besides, Satoru, you don’t need me to buy lunch when you can literally buy out the place with one of your cards.”

Fixing his glasses higher over his nose, Satoru opens his mouth to complain, deciding against it at the last minute. He shoots a haughty look in Suguru's general direction. “Well, if you’re really that busy, then—ah, guess it can’t be helped. Least you can do is be responsible and send a replacement. And who could that replacement be—hmm, if only there was an available candidate.”

He scopes the place with a palm horizontal to his eyes, stopping once he supposedly detects your presence. “What do you say, new girl? Perhaps this could be our chance to get to know each other. I bet there’s so much you’re dying to ask me.” He says with a stare far too playful to be deemed salacious.

Round glasses come off as Satoru leans against your desk and plays up his charms. You are drawn to the blue spirals in his eyes, mesmerized by their sublime beauty, and in a way, it’s nature’s will for the stars to seek the skies, but Suguru can’t stand for it. Not when such bitterness floods his palate, spreading into his bloodstream like poison that prompts his body to move against every volition that isn’t his own.

“Let’s go.” He rasps in a nearly menacing tone, claw-like fingers closing around Satoru’s shoulder. “Your treat.”

"She is scary!" Breadcrumbs fall from Satoru's mouth as he takes another bite out of his lunch, tonkatsu sauce overlining his cupid's bow. "Terrifying even."

"I thought you said she was hot." Suguru states wryly, still in the process of peeling the fifteen layers of wrapping paper that encompass his sandwich, when he pauses to offer Satoru a couple of napkins.

He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like thank you, and wipes his lips clean, only to dirty them with another sloppy bite.

"She is," he agrees after gulping down, snowy eyelashes fluttering shut to a moan that has people from different tables turning heads to theirs. "Both scary and hot. Scarily hot. Mmm, so damn good~"

Another obscene sound vibrates in his throat, and this time, Suguru fails to hide his disgust, staring at his friend like a disappointed mother at a parent-teacher conference.

"What?" Satoru asks, the blue in his eyes expanding as he touches his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

"Satoru." Suguru shakes his head, speaking in a quiet voice all the while pleading with him to stop acting grossly in public.

It's safe to say his request isn't received well, although it takes just one mention of your name for Satoru to let go of his grudge and perk up again.

"Did you see how mean she was to me?" The giddiness in his tone fails to match his words. "Ready to walk all over me with those heels. Bet she would have if you weren't there."

"And? Giving up already?" Suguru teases.

"Who said I am?" Satoru chugs his coke. "Just hafta try harder."

Any joy Suguru might have felt at his friend's misery ends up parching in his throat, squinted eyes casting an inexcusably hard glare on the sandwich he grips with malice.

"God, did ya see her smile? Bet her lips taste like heaven."

"And what does heaven taste like?"

"Probably as good as this," Satoru says, nodding to his half-finished meal, "but sweeter. Infinite times sweeter. I'll let you know once I find out for myself."

Every word that comes out of Satoru's mouth causes Suguru's fingers to clutch tighter and tighter until the croquettes explode out of his sandwich, splattering the table and his hand with bits of potato and sauce.

"Ah. Sorry, I wasn't—" Suguru drops the remains on his plate, cleaning his fingers one by one. He isn't even sure what he's apologizing for.

"Want me to get you another?" Satoru offers. "I could go for seconds."

"It's fine. Not hungry anymore."

Gardenia or tuberose?

The same question repeats in Suguru's brain, begging to distract him from the slew of paperwork he's been asked to sign, but not from the actual distraction that is bent over his desk, making him question not just his sanity but also his self-control.

Tuberose.

He doesn't think much of either is left when he breathes in the perfume dabbed around your shirt's open collar, alluring to the point where he catches himself chasing after your neck like a hound dog—heavy breath hitching in his chest.

Gardenia.

He doubts he has any left when his amber eyes peer into your cleavage, tracing the contour between your supple breasts down to the first popped button of your shirt—large palms aching to seize them.

Tuberose.

He realizes he is not half the decent man he was about a month ago when his cock twitches at the sight of your pencil skirt riding higher on your thighs, the black seams of your sheered stockings promising a fast track to your tight little cunt—and how he’d love to gain access to that.

Gardenia or tuberose; who cares?

Figuring out the notes in your perfume is about the last thing Suguru cares about when every inch of his body urges him to blow your back against the lavish mahogany, signing the rest of these documents in a mix of your spit and tears. But it's what helps keep those intrusive thoughts from spilling out.

"One more signature here." Ignorant about his dark impulses, you shuffle through the papers and point at another blank place of signature he needs to fill. "It's a referral agreement for Miss Mei's services. She said the terms were verbally agreed upon, but feel free to go over them again and suggest any adjustments."

"That won't be necessary." With a few quick flicks of his pen, Suguru jots down his name. "Thank you for your hard work."

He struggles to meet your eyes without first halting at your tits as you collect the documents and hug them (regrettably) close to your chest, pulling away from his desk to stand before him.

"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Geto!" A sweet smile is plastered on your face, and he can't help but wonder whether you'd continue smiling at him if you ever caught a whiff of the filth festering in his brain.

He doesn't like what his feelings have matured into. He's not proud that every time your eyes cross, he muses over what they'd look like rolling to the back of your skull or how sometimes he'll lock his office door and beat his cock to the thought of your pretty nails digging in his thighs while he bullies his length into the heat of your throat.

He hates that those aren't even his own thoughts but were rather instilled in him by Satoru, who couldn't be more vocal and descriptive of his own fantasies if he wanted to. He's the same way about his advances, and it drives Suguru insane to see his friend making such quick headway because he remains Mr. Geto while he gets to be Satoru.

It's all because of that damn merger...

The first time Suguru heard you address Satoru by his first name came right after a business meal he was forced to sit out of. Someone had to deal with the last-minute amendment Tengen requested to their already-filed and approved work plan, while another entertained their prospective investors. Seeing as Satoru was the face of the company, he couldn't possibly miss such an important meeting, and so they divided responsibilities.

Suguru stayed back to deal with the crisis, but not without sending you on his behalf—all pretty and dolled-up in your navy halter dress and black pumps, shining like the evening star by Satoru's side, only to come back completely drained of light with the worst shoe bite known to man.

Ever the observant gentleman, Suguru ran to the nearest drugstore, returning to the office with his heart in his mouth and a bag full of supplies that dropped from his hands the moment he saw his best friend kneel before your feet, tying the shoelaces of a newly bought pair of sneakers.

Thank you, Satoru.

The same scene repeated itself many a time, his lesser romantic gestures outdone by a price tag he couldn't match and words he couldn't brace himself to say just yet.

A fluff of white hair orbited around your desk at a constant, like a bumblebee who'd discovered an inexhaustible source of nectar, and you grew close enough not to swat it—him—away. You'd answer his jokes with mirthful chuckles, and he'd answer your “Here's your stomach ache of a cappuccino, Satoru” with platinum-coated Mont Blanc pens and luxury Moleskine agendas. Plural.

Light touches, flirty smiles, and heart-eyes in both your voices, whose volume bypassed his closed door as an irritating buzz that had Suguru wondering whether there had been a change of offices.

The breaking point came two nights ago, when, in the spur of jealousy, he heaped you with enough work to keep your desk lamp burning all night long. He regretted it as soon as he got into his car, and then he stepped on the pedal, driving to that one Chinese place he and Satoru frequented while they were still students—driving again like a maniac to ensure the food reached you hot.

But great minds think alike.

By the time Suguru made it back into the office, a proper candle-lit dinner was held over the scattered papers on your desk that then doubled as coasters. A second chair was drawn near yours, two silhouettes huddled together. Shoulders nudging, chopsticks lifted—and he refused to stick around long enough to watch his best friend feed dumplings directly into your mouth, along with whatever was bound to follow.

Which pulls him back to the current reality of his foggy windows and the cold tea on his desk, with present-you staring at him, oblivious to his dilemma.

He knows he has no right to feel this way. You aren't his property, and contrary to what the media wants the world to believe, Satoru isn't some heartless womanizer who changes girls the same way people change socks. In fact, Suguru can't remember the last time he saw Satoru this invested in a person. You hitting it off is a good thing. He should be happy.

He should be.

He really should.

But he isn't.

He really isn't.

And he doubts he'll ever be, because in his whole life, he's never envied anything that Satoru has. Not his money, not his status, not his prestige—not anything. You're the first thing he's ever envied—the first he's ever wanted. Because you are his assistant, and within the wretched spiral of his desires, that should amount to something.

You should be his.

"So.” Suguru takes a sip of his tea, trying his hardest not to cringe at its unpleasant, lukewarm taste. "Any special plans for the holidays?"

You shake your head slowly and then with more confidence again.

"That's good." He blurts out, masking his relief with a low chuckle. "I mean—"

“I get it.” You chuckle back. “Not a big fan of the holidays, are you?”

“Not a hater either. Satoru,” he mentally curses himself for bringing him up now, “is the one who gets all excited about Christmas. Gives him the perfect opportunity to put on a show without being chastised by President Gojo. Hard to argue back when he brings up the morale of the team."

“Well, everyone seems to be excited for the party." You add. "Especially the interns; heard them gushing about it with Assistant Manager Haibara."

"I don't suppose Intern Fushiguro was with them, was he?" Suguru smirks as you confirm his suspicions. The boy might be Satoru's protegee, yet the two are like night and day when it comes to means of entertainment.

"It's Intern Kugisaki and Intern Itadori's first Christmas at our company, and the press always finds a way to glorify anything related to the Gojos." Suguru continues. "The annual Christmas party isn't an exception. Outsiders need a special invitation, and only a select few make the cut."

"We should consider ourselves lucky, then." You point out.

"Mhm," he hums. "Come think of it, it's your first Christmas with us too. Are you excited?" A teasing lilt colors his voice.

"Definitely am!" You humor him. "Especially after hearing about the ugly sweater contest."

"Fan of the sport or the prize?"

"Both. But five days at a deluxe resort in Okinawa do sound enticing."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you." Suguru folds his arms over his chest and tilts back against his chair. A condescending look spreads over his features.

You mirror his stance, sticking your right heel out. "And why is that? Are you competing perhaps?"

He snorts as if the notion alone is plain ridiculous. "I'm not, but Nanami is."

"Nanami? Manager Nanami?" You blink in disbelief, trying and mostly failing to contain your laughter. Not like he can fault you. A man as practical and square-minded as Nanami sporting sweaters that feature 3D reindeer heads is a sight one must see in order to believe.

"He's oddly passionate about this." Suguru explains. "He's won every contest for the past four years, just to enjoy a little time off."

"I should give it my best then."

"I'll be cheering for you." He promises with a wink, picking up on the faint blush that dusts your cheeks. A small victory.

You bite your lip and cast a gaze to the floor before lifting your head in search of the clock on his wall. He sighs internally.

"So." You return to the beginning of your discussion.

"So." He repeats with a softer tone.

"I guess I'll be seeing you at the party?"

"Guess you will." He nods, gesturing toward the door. "You may go. I need to finish these first.

You nod back and hold onto the door knob, turning around one last time to bow at him. "There's an extra umbrella on my desk. Feel free to take it."

Before Suguru can even consider his answer, you turn into smoke, leaving him with a hopeful smile he scolds himself for. A thoughtful gesture can't possibly undo all the sorrow and anguish he experienced over the course of a mere month.

And yet he still finds himself skipping to your desk, grinning now at the little piece of paper that dangles from the umbrella's handle. It's not a spare, that's for sure.

As lightning cracks the gloomy skies above, Suguru faces toward the window, tracking the thunder's tail down to gray cement, where colorful umbrellas dance around like anemones. Yours twirls like the most beautiful flower of all, vivid petals drawing into themselves as you're ushered into a white SUV by a hand belonging to a man he knows all too well—driven away while Suguru stands there watching, feeling as if cold rain pours over him instead.

He sets down the umbrella and returns to his office.

After the fifth replay of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" blasts over the speakers, Suguru begins to reconsider the answer he gave you less than 24 hours ago.

He hates Christmas—the buzz, the fuss. The forced happiness and the self-inflicted festive glee. The repetitive songs and the continuous camera flash. The stuffy atmosphere and the nausea-inducing blinking lights. How every snack gets labeled with an ambiguous "Christmas flavor," as if a holiday can have a taste in the first place; he hates all that.

But most of all, he hates not being the one to stand beside you under that damn mistletoe—a spectator among spectators and an outcast even among them.

Champagne trembles in his hand as he watches the crowd gather around you and Satoru, smothering you with cheers that sound a beat above the music, excessive clapping synchronized for the sake of a four-letter word chanted like a prayer. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

You don't give in to their demands. Not immediately, at least. There is some awkward fumbling, a hand weaving through semi-combed strands of white, and the pointy end of a heel dragging incomplete circles. You shake your heads in unison, giggling, making a very weak effort to get yourselves out of this predicament, though the people know exactly what they want. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

It's quick and painless. Chaste, as Satoru leans forward and pecks your cheek, grinning a shit-eating grin from one ear to the other when he pulls away and waves off the jeers. Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Louder this time. His lips move soundlessly, wordless speech bubbles emerging in faux protest as if he isn't dying to kiss you, as if you aren't dying to be kissed by the most important man in the room, as if this poorly executed play isn't staged.

Suguru finds himself wishing you'd get it over with, yet he can't bring himself to turn away. Much like everyone else, his gaze is fixed on you, enchanted by you since day one, and imprisoned in a dismal spell that continues to wring his heart for all its worth, threatening to leave him shattered.

You take initiative this once. Stepping in front of Satoru, your fingers seek the hem of his cream-colored cashmere sweater. You pull him to you, reeling and reeling and reeling, and—

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Geto!" A pair of impressionable eyes widen before him, stretched arms springing from the man's body as he jumps before Suguru like a jack-in-the-box.

"Haibara." He acknowledges with a sigh, uncertain of whether he should be thanking him or scolding him for blocking his view.

By the time his junior pulls aside, the spectacle is already over. Everyone has returned to their previous positions, resuming their conversations away from you and Satoru, who are left gleaming like Christmas ornaments, tinged red from head to toe.

"Mm, these taste so good! Mr. Geto, you need to try one," Haibara says, lifting a platter of canapés from the buffet behind them.

Suguru forces himself to smile as he throws a salmon spread into his mouth. He swallows without understanding any flavor, washing the crumbs away with some more champagne, the buzz of alcohol promising to dull out his affliction.

"Are you enjoying the party?"

"Very much so!" Haibara answers full of excitement. "So many new faces have gathered since last year; I'm so glad to be a part of this. Nanami even let me help with his sweater design!"

"Is that so?" Suguru chuckles wryly, scanning through the guests for the blond.

He spots Nanami loitering by where your desk is normally stationed (the majority of furniture relocated for the sake of opening up the space), and while he cannot see the front of his burgundy sweater, he can easily make out the antler headband sitting on both his and Itadori's heads, the two men seeming to have joined forces.

The discussion between Haibara and Suguru soon turns stale, with the former gushing about the inner happenings of the sales department and the latter absently nodding in approval, his attention monopolized by the exchange between you and Satoru.

Even when the occasional guest butts in, you remain inseparably bound to each other through your clothes (both of you dressed to the nines despite your intent to partake in the contest), your gestures, and the hands that gain familiarity over time. His slips around your lower back as he whispers in your ear; yours throws a playful punch at his shoulder, while you giggle at whatever he just said.

Probably some crappy Christmas pick-up line, Suguru decides. Something like, Wanna pop by my apartment later? No need for any mistletoe when we're both under my sheets, followed by a Satoru! Not here; people are watching .

"Mr. Gojo and Ms. Y/N sure look friendly." Haibara's observation comes as the final nail in the coffin.

Suguru murmurs in a low tone. "Think she's interested in him?"

"Hard to find a person who isn't interested in Mr. Gojo." Haibara earnestly replies.

“Right…”

"But the same goes for you too, Mr. Geto." Haibara's voice prompts Suguru to face him. A soft smile plays on the younger man's lips, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink. "I've been looking up to you since I first started working here. All of us do, even Nanami."

"You do?" Suguru draws confidence from his junior's timidity, enough to bestow him with a lopsided smile. "Why is that?"

"Because you are a hard worker!" Haibara declares. "Mr. Gojo is brilliant, but he was born into it. For us to reach him, that's impossible. You, on the other hand—you built yourself from the ground up. You are not only meticulous and good at your job, but you are also immeasurably kind! Both before and after your promotion, you've cared for us juniors and made the company a hospitable place for everyone. You are the goal we aspire to reach; you are our role model."

Working with someone who values their juniors and goes the extra mile for them is like hitting the lottery.

A role model, huh...

Your words mix with Haibara's, swirling round and round at the languid pace of alcohol in his brain, inebriating enough for him to not reject them like he otherwise would. He knows what needs to be said. I'm the one who's grateful. I wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for such capable juniors. Satoru is the one you should be thanking instead.

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru .

It's all him; it's always him. Everyone and everything in this room is here because of him, yet for the second time, Suguru is thanked for his efforts. For the nights he spent reviewing reports, fixing typos, and making overseas phone calls. For buttering clients up and spending every waking minute of his life networking. For talking people through their breakdowns and promising them their work makes a difference; that they matter.

It's almost enough to make up for all the unconditional praise his best friend received since birth, though Suguru refuses to let that be his consolation prize. Not when the perfect winning prize lies right ahead of him and waltzes into his office. Alone .

A glassy sound is produced as Suguru drops off his champagne and smiles at his colleague from over his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas, Haibara."

The door creaks softly behind Suguru as he enters his cloakroom-turned office, the faint click of a lock muffled out by the fading party music, its people fading with until it’s just you and him, away from distractions and interruptions, but more importantly, away from Satoru.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Your back’s turned on him, the golden threads of your sweater twinkling in the dark while you rummage through the coat racks, feeling out every texture with your fingertips. Wool, nylon, leather, and finally, cotton. The dark-colored jacket is slung over your arm, with your other hand digging into each pocket for… something .

Something that falls to the wayside once you become aware of the man’s presence and let out a tiny shriek.

“Mr. Geto!” There you go with that damn honorific again. “What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed into my own office?" Suguru sneers as he paces farther inside, his palms clasped behind his back.

"Y-you just scared me, is all."

He settles against his desk to study your startled features. You look even more beautiful when there's no one to steal your shine—a modern-day princess Kaguya, beckoned by the moonlight to return to its cratered land, although he’s made up his mind. Unlike the emperor in the story, he won’t let you escape him.

"Wasn't my intention." Drowning out his adoration, he cocks his head to the side and nods at your jacket. “Leaving already?”

“No, uh.” You fidget awkwardly, shoving whatever it is that your fingers caught back in your pocket. “Satoru asked—”

“Satoru, huh?” His tongue clicks in distaste. "You do anything Satoru asks?"

“What?” You question your own hearing, though he knows you heard him just fine. He sees it trembling in your eyes—feels it fanning against his jaw as he pulls away from his desk and stands before you, looking down on you in more than one way.

"I said, you'd do anything as long as Satoru is the one asking?"

"I...I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't?" His tone is syrupy, yet not sweet—a smile too condescending to be compassionate. "Allow me to rephrase, then. If Satoru asked you to spread your legs for him, would you?"

"Mr. Geto, I think you had too much to drink.” You chuckle nervously, gesturing toward his shoulder while simultaneously avoiding his stare. “Should I call you a cab? I don’t think you’re in a condition to drive.”

“No.” Suguru snaps, swatting your hand away. “No, you don’t get to play good assistant now. I asked you a question. Answer.”

He doesn't miss the hesitant bow of your head, which only confirms his suspicions. You want his best friend, and for once, he doesn't care that you do. It doesn't upset him. If anything, it offers him greater incentive to keep going without regard for your feelings or his own.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" The last vestige of bitterness follows him to the coffee table, where he grabs a seat by one of the two chairs, wood screeching like nails across a blackboard. Mounting one leg atop the other, "Can't say I blame you. President Gojo is growing too old to be running things, and Satoru already handles the majority of his affairs. Won't be long until he assumes office, and when he does, whoever is on his side will benefit the most."

Your silence encourages Suguru to continue. "But as things currently stand, you aren't all that important to him, are you? And if you were to suddenly lose your position, his interest in you would probably diminish."

"What do you want?" Your voice is meek when you speak—a pitiful sound begging to tug at his heartstrings.

Except he has no pity left.

Suguru leans forward and spreads his thighs over the cushion. His elbows prop against them, with his intertwined fingers providing a seat for his clenched jaw—dark eyes ever drilling holes into your fragile skull.

“It’s not about what I want, but about what you want. You said that working at this company is a great opportunity, and you’re right. It really is. I’d hate for you to lose it over a simple matter of allegiance.”

“Allegiance?” You echo.

He nods. “Don’t you think an assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her? You get paid to do what I say, not whore yourself to Satoru. If I tell you to jump, you should jump, and if I tell you to drop on your knees and stick your tongue out, that’s exactly what you must do. Getting the picture now?”

“Is that…so?” A hum answers your question. “Very well.”

Amber irises harden below knitted eyebrows, their transparent warmth giving way to opaque desire as he watches you approach with steady strides, his cock stiffening in his pants from the sharp intonation of your heels alone.

Something has shifted within you, though he can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s like he sees you for the first time, confidence emanating from your very being as you drop off your jacket and gracefully sink on the floor before him, pleated skirt pooling around your bent knees—cherry lips licked together as your hands trail up his slacks and undo his belt, zipper next.

Is this really happening? Was it really that easy?

“Could you lift your hips, please?” You ask demurely, in the same considerate way you’d offer to refill his cup every morning.

A moment passes before Suguru obliges, part of him failing to separate fantasy from reality. He’s dreamed about this so many times that if it weren't for the soft palms rubbing up and down against his thighs, he’d be pinching himself awake. But you are definitely real, and you’re definitely there, and despite his conscience screaming that this is all wrong, he doesn’t let a future regret hold him back.

Shimmying out of both underwear and pants, Suguru’s cock springs free, already hard and twitching in anticipation, its slight curve pointing at your agape mouth. Your warm breath sends tingles up his spine as you inch closer, your lips rounding and then puckering hard around the fat tip. It's almost enough for him to lose composure, kissing his teeth when he feels your tongue drag a teasing circle on the underside of his shaft, wet and hot and far more skilled than he's ever imagined.

You let go before any praise evades Suguru, studying his lustful expression with a complacent smile that ends up rubbing him the wrong way. How many smiles have you offered Satoru while looking up at him like that? How many times have you practiced your technique on him to hone it to perfection? How many laughs have the two of you shared at Suguru's expense, knowing he's hopelessly wrapped around your dainty little finger?

Quick to wipe the hubris from your face, he takes hold of his cock and delivers a derogatory smack across your cheek.

"Test my patience one more time, and you'll be crawling out of here." His voice retains its smoothness even as he rubs the leaky slit against your lips, smearing a thin coat of glossy precum before he pushes his way back inside. "Better give me a good reason why I should keep an ungrateful slut like you around."

Suguru takes his time to explore your mouth, mapping out the wet cavern in its entirety. Your teeth are tucked behind your lips, their gentle firmness complementing the expert strokes laid by your tongue. Your cheeks hollow to accommodate him, air sucked and drool wetting his throbbing cock, some of it trickling to your chin. It's an extremely tight fit that grows tighter with every inch he stuffs you with, hitting the back of your throat long before he's wholly sheathed.

"Fuck." His head tips back in pure bliss. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Doe eyes flick up, their lecherous innocence holding him captive. He thought he'd forsaken all affection held for you, yet his heart begs to differ, lurching at the sight of your bare knees bruising against the polished marble.

He's tempted to call it quits and pull you to his lap, praying that the sweet words piling in his brain seep into your ears like poetry and register as an apology. That, somehow, you forgive the selfish arms cradling you and excuse the greedy lips drinking from your mouth as if it were a chalice; that you allow a heathen like him to express his reverence with deep thrusts and profound pleasure that will make you worship him as much as he longs to worship you, names tangling in a breathless mantra.

He's about to do just that when suddenly he's reminded of how moments ago you were locking lips with his best friend in front of a live audience, and the resentment within him swells anew, expanding like a black hole set on devouring him. He shouldn't hope for more, because you won't be coming back for more. After tonight ends, you'll go running back to Satoru, and he'll be lucky if his attorney's license doesn’t get revoked.

So much for being a role model.

Might as well enjoy himself while it lasts.

Brushing the sticky strands of hair away from your face, Suguru pulls them into a makeshift ponytail that he uses as leverage to drive himself in deeper, letting out a stuttered groan once he bottoms out. Tears well in your eyes as he holds you completely still, heavy lashes blinking rapidly to filter them out.

"Lookin' so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Suguru rasps in a candied tone, his thumb rubbing against the apple of your cheek with tenderness before he forces your head to bob back and forth on his length. "Wonder what Satoru would say if he saw you like this. Perhaps we should call him in, mm ? Have him see what good that little mouth is when it's all plugged and can't talk back. Maybe he'll want to take turns using it. Maybe you’ll walk outta here with a bonus. My capable—ngh—assistant promoted to office slut."

There’s no way for you to respond. Even if he pulls back this instant, the wit he fell in love with will still be gone. Right now, you’re nothing more than a hole for him to take out his frustrations—no better than an average whore choking on dick.

The party music continues to blare strong in the background, your soft gagging barely enough to mute the rounds of applause that still reverberate in his gauged ears—so he fucks your face faster and harder, his hips slamming forward in tandem with the mean fingers gripping your skull, each thrust producing a sound more sinful than the one before.

He’s hellbent on erasing that kiss from his memory, keen on replacing his friend’s taste with that of his cum, and he’d be damned if he didn’t feel amazing in the process, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your jaw purely addictive.

And when he catches you rubbing your thighs together, he almost busts on the spot.

“You—hah—you really don’t care who it is, do you? Whether it’s me or him,” Suguru stammers, his tone whinier than he’d hoped. “As long as there’s cock in your mouth, you’re satisfied, aren’t you? Be honest; you aren’t even doing it for the job. You just get off on being used.”

He’s slowed down enough for the pleasurable vibrations on his cock to be felt, your eyes screwed shut with a hand lost between layers of skirt, searching for some sort of relief—relief he decides you don’t deserve.

“Ah-ah-ah! Who said you could cum, hm ?” Suguru chastises you by yanking you off his cock, a string of saliva chasing after your jaw as you stumble backward. “Told you to give me a reason not to fire you, and you did what exactly?” He tilts his head curiously. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. Not even worth the trouble.”

“W-wait!”

Before he has the chance to leave you high and dry on the floor, you scramble across your garments and tug at his pants in a pathetic attempt to get him to sit back down. He indulges. Not like he was serious about leaving anyway.

Your palm wraps around the base of his cock as you lean closer, licking a sloppy stripe from the base to his tip, and then all the way down again, sucking one of his balls into your mouth while simultaneously jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” Suguru breathes out, grabbing at the arms of his chair—his hips bucking into your palm. “Such a nasty little slut. Must really want this cock, huh? Come on. Show me how much you want this.”

Your eyes shine as though he praised you, and this time, you hold nothing back. You moan like you’re the one who derives pleasure, humming and even mewling as you switch from one ball to the other, your nose nuzzling to his warmth.

You pump him without a break, furiously rotating your palm over his cock head and squeezing right below with a ring shaped by your thumb and forefinger. Only he knows how he manages to hold back, pleasure so dizzying that his head spins, rearranging the furniture in the room.

“Th-that’s enough.” He voices amidst a broken moan, gently prying your wrist away—your mouth unlatching soon after.

Everything falls back into order as Suguru provides you both a much-needed reprieve, which you spend soaking in each other’s expressions. Dark strands of hair have fallen from his bun, clear beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. The shadows cast by the blinds conceal his flushed complexion, whereas the contrasting light exposes yours. Your chest heaves with every labored breath you take, mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and lipstick transferred from your lips to his cock, painting the pink tip scarlet red.

You look utterly debauched, but it’s not enough for him to call it a day. He wants more of you on him and more of him on you—more evidence that tonight wasn’t a figment of his imagination, taking place in the men’s room in between insufferable business meetings. Rather than keeping things a secret, he wants the whole world to know what transpired behind the closed doors of his office, and that sparks an idea.

He needs to put more of him in you.

With a small smile playing on his lips, Suguru helps you up, steadying you against his arms until you're able to stand on your own. You thank him with a hoarse voice and wobble on your heels as you're made to follow him to his desk, assuming position without him needing to speak a single command. You bend over the hard surface like you did the previous day and all the days before that, except your skirt's now rolled well over your thighs, and nothing obscures his view of your panties.

“How eager,” Suguru murmurs as he caresses the curve of your bare ass down to your clothed cunt, parting with a sigh when his pointer traces over the drenched fabric and prods it into your slit. “So wet from sucking my dick? Sure you weren’t thinking of someone else?”

“N-no.”

“No?” A smirk rings in his tone. “You don’t sound too sure.”

“Y-yes. I mean, n-no—oh fuck, r-right there!”

Your hips push back against Suguru’s hand, grinding against the long fingers that tug your panties to the side and slip into your wet hole.

He lazily works you open, each thrust concluding with his fingertips curling right into your sweet spot, coaxing soft whimpers to spill from your lips.

He pulls out once he feels you're sufficiently stretched, taking a second to admire the thin essence that dribbles down his digits before he uses it to lather up his cock, fighting back moans of his own whilst fisting himself to the lewd sight of his assistant offering herself to him.

Under different circumstances, he would've taken things slow. Under different circumstances, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and sitting where you could comfortably watch him disappear between your thighs. You'd call out his name, and he'd lap at your juices until you're unable to hold yourself from cumming all over his face. Only then would he pepper your trembling thighs with kisses and tell you how well you did for him—what a good girl you are; his good girl.

“Doesn’t matter.” Suguru says for himself to hear, and it really doesn’t. Those ideal circumstances he dreams about are a thing of the past.

With a firm hand pressing on your back, he straightens you against the desk and runs his swollen cock head through your folds, voice laden with desire when he whispers, “Let’s see whose name you moan now, mm? ”

His thoughts hush as soon as his girth catches into the tight entrance of your cunt—a sigh gritted through his teeth as he finally sinks in.

He gives you a second to adjust, when in reality, it's him who needs the breather. All the longing and desire, the frustration and despair that'd been pooling in him for the past few weeks, culminate in this one perfect moment where your velvet walls hug his throbbing length, constricting around every inch he feeds inside you.

It's cathartic.

He remains breathing through his nose for a good while, too scared to open his mouth, lest he say something embarrassing enough to want to smack his head with the silver name plate on his desk right after. He's aware of how ridiculous it'd sound if he suddenly blurted out that he loves you, yet the warm feeling coursing through his veins can only be described as such.

Luckily, his final choice of words ends up being far more sensible.

“S-so fucking tight—”

“For a whore?” You interrupt, your droopy head lifting from over your slumped shoulders to bestow him with yet another winsome smile. God, you’re pretty.

“Never called you a whore.” Suguru's lips crack into a smirk of their own, while his fingers knead the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks for him to see the point where you connect. A pearly ring has formed at the base of his cock from your fluids combined, his balls snugly squished between your hips. God, this is so hot.

His gaze shifts away. If he keeps looking, he just might cum without getting to even fuck you properly.

“You didn’t? My bad. Must have been someone else.”

"Aren't you cheeky?" A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, escalating into a loud groan as his hips pull back and jerk forward in a thrust that knocks both the wind and smugness out of you, the recoil causing your body to jiggle against the desk. "That fucking audacity of yours is what got you in this place to begin with."

You try to say something that he doesn't care to hear, muting your words with a sharp thwack across your ass. You whimper in response, clenching so hard around him that he repeats the motion on the other cheek for good measure, your pathetic whines going straight to his cock. It's scary how much he enjoys this.

"Talking about other men," Suguru begins his recital of your crimes, his hips rutting in time with the smacks inflicted on your reddening flesh. "Accepting gifts and whatnot, letting yourself be paraded around like a fucking trophy"—the hardest slap yet—"guess that really makes you a whore."

Your body doesn’t know how to react, whether to moan from the pain or cry from the pleasure, with your upper half squirming and your lower half stilled against him, taking everything he gives you without complaint.

He pounds into you like an animal, wrapping strong arms around your waist to bring you closer, his cock barely withdrawing before being slapped back inside, fucking straight into your pulsing core.

“D-don’t worry.” Suguru sounds delirious when he talks, with more and more ebony locks cascading from his disheveled bun down his face and shoulders. “We’re gonna fix that, mm? Gonna be mine from now on. Mine to kiss." His weight is held against your body as he leans forward, large frame dwarfing you as he plants his lips on your nape. “Mine to touch,” his arms squeeze even harder, “and—ngh, all mine to fuck. My. Fucking. Assistant.” He growls, punctuating every word with another thrust.

Suguru feels himself nearing his release, his balls tightening the longer your pussy grips him, until a knock on the door causes the sweat on his body to go cold and forces him to sober up.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

With quick reflexes, Suguru slaps a hand on your mouth, concentrating every bit of his willpower on figuring out the best course of action, all the while the knob rattles at Nanami's attempts to break into the room, complementary pangs echoing against the wood.

“I just need my coat; open up!”

Whatever took over Suguru seems to have vanished into thin air, leaving him to fend for himself. It’s only then that the severity of the situation becomes apparent. Not only did he coerce his assistant to fuck him, but he did so at a company event where reporters from every major news agency have gathered for a chance to dig up dirt on the Gojos. If word gets out, they're all done for. Suguru, Satoru, the company—every person’s livelihood that depends on the Gojo name will go to waste.

He's hit rock bottom, drowning in self-deprecation, when your fingers curl around his hand and drag it away from your mouth, your thumb squeezing the inside of his palm in a motion that compels him to trust you.

"Manager Nanami?” Your voice sounds so worn out that it's barely recognizable, but it's good. It makes your next sentence more believable. "I'm so sorry for the holdup, but I wasn't feeling too well. Could you, um, give me five to ten more minutes? I promise to bring your coat out myself."

For what feels like an eternity, silence reigns both inside and outside the room, the two of you holding your breaths while the man on the other side of the door decides your fate.

“Fine.” Nanami finally speaks. “Please don’t take too long. I have a train to catch."

"Thank you so much!" You sigh in relief, your forehead pressing forward against the furniture.

A few moments pass before Suguru braces himself to talk, feeling too flustered to let relief wash over him just yet. "Why did you do that? Why would you—"

"Because I'm your assistant." Only half of your smile is visible from that angle, yet it somehow appears more genuine than the previous ones. "You said it yourself. An assistant should be loyal to the one who hired her. It's my duty to look after you."

Your words make Suguru come face-to-face with a realization that, for the longest time, he's conveniently ignored. You aren't equals. You never were. No matter how hard he's tried to bridge the gap between you, it's still there, paralleling the one between him and Satoru, except in both cases, the sore loser remains no one but himself.

"Now, let's hurry up." Your ass rubs impatiently against his pelvis, reminding him that his cock is still snuggled in your cunt. "We don't have much time."

Postponing soul-searching for as long as he can, Suguru picks himself up and slips a hand between your thighs, easily spotting the neglected nub that throbs above your abused pussy lips.

His thumb swipes over your clit, testing a combination of short circles and light flicks that have you seesawing back and forth between his hand and hips, soft moans of pleasure playing like music in his ears. He much prefers them to your sobs.

"F-feels so good, ahh."

"Such a good girl. Learned her lesson, hm?" He hums, lusciously massaging your insides with his cock, his pace far more forgiving.

He gets to relish everything this time. From the intimate way you hold onto his free hand while pushing back to meet his thrusts, to the stuttered Mr. Geto's that complement your pretty whimpers. He feels himself burning up, the heat from your core circuiting his own body and permeating the deepest parts of his soul. He's drunk on you, feeling more heady when inhaling your perfume than he did sipping champagne all night long.

"Mr. Geto, I'm gonna—" The rest of your sentence is cut off, sharp nails digging into his flesh while your shoulders tense up.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" Suguru asks, adrenaline rushing to his thick cock that insists on kissing your cervix while his fingers continuously assault the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "Go ahead. My pretty assistant worked hard for it, didn't she? Proved how much she—f-fuck, she deserves her boss' dick. Cum on this dick, baby. Wanna feel you cum all over me."

"Please, Mr. Geto, pleasepleaseplease , right there, ahhh , please fuck me." Your begging has him losing his mind, the dam between his thoughts and his tongue breaking as he goes on to praise your very existence, no filter whatsoever.

"You were worth the wait. Wanted to do this since d-day one," Suguru pants out, shaking his head with a faint smile. "No, even longer than that. Been wanting you since I saw your picture, fuck—" He bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Feels like I've been waiting on you forever."

His confession overlaps with your release, your walls spasming and contracting while the rest of your body goes limp. Suguru knows he won't last much longer, his pace growing sloppier by the minute as the aftershocks of your bliss reel him in, sculpted abs clenching in sync with his heavy balls until his hips come to a complete stutter, ropes upon ropes of his creamy seedy sputtering into your warm cunt.

A string of curses is unleashed as he groans your name, and he's still shuddering when he pulls out, staring wide-eyed at the mess he made. His cum flows out of your hole in a steady stream, trickling down your thighs as if taunting him to plug it back in. He doesn't think he's ever finished this hard in his life, and yet his cock insists on twitching even in the comfort of his palm.

Mesmerized by the sight of your spent pussy squirting out your shared fluids, Suguru makes no real effort to dress himself until his eyes spot the sparse drops that have dribbled from his weeping tip to the carpet below, and panic rings in his head like an alarm.

Frantically, he scans the dimly lit room for some paper—a cloth or a towel; anything that'd help him clean up—only to be struck with disappointment. He keeps none of these items around, and while he's mostly proactive about emergencies, he doubts plowing his assistant qualifies as one.

He's off to find the light switch (not without awkwardly tripping in his pants like a penguin first) when you sneak up behind him, your outfit put back together, with a tissue hanging from your open fingers.

"Whores always clean after themselves." You smile sweetly as Suguru accepts the offering.

The dark-haired man crouches to pick up his pants after wiping his cock clean. A smirk is plastered on his face as he tucks himself back into his underwear and crumples the used paper into a ball that gets tossed in the bin beside him.

"Gonna keep holding that against me?" He asks once he's gone back to looking somewhat presentable.

"Hmm, probably until Monday." Your chuckle placates his heart, only to make it thrum against his chest a second later. "Unless...you don't mind speeding up the process."

Your eyes pierce through him, shining brighter than the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. He almost wishes the room were kept in darkness, for the sole reason that his surprise remains hidden, hope lumping in his throat.

"What are you suggesting?"

You clutch onto your jacket while pacing around the room, halting in front of the stacked bookshelves mounted on one of the four walls. Your head tilts slightly as you explore his collection of hardcovers and attempt to read the cursive characters on one of his certificates, your smile losing its vibrancy as you go back to facing him, your eyes focusing anywhere but his.

"Rather than neither of us doing anything special for the holidays," you finally speak, "how about we do nothing special for the holidays together?" You lick your lips together, cringing at the way your voice cracks over the last syllable. "Say, outside Meiji Memorial Museum around 6 p.m. tomorrow?"

Suguru catches himself holding his breath, nitpicking your words even when they leave no room for ambiguity. "Are you asking me out?"

Your head is held low as you nod. "I figured after what just happened, you might be interested."

The lump in his throat dissolves only to recur immediately after.

"What about Satoru?" He asks in a hushed tone, prepared for disappointment.

"Satoru is," a small smile creeps up, "he's the most amazing person I've ever met, and will probably meet in my entire life. But," you gnaw on your lips, briefly meeting his eyes, "I have a preference for dark-haired workaholics." He nearly disputes the color of his own hair, relying on the reflection in your eyes to confirm his identity.

"Is that how you see me?"

"That's how most people in the office see you. If you were to ask me, I'd add kind to the list. Generous. Warm. Sly," you giggle before whispering the next word, "sexy."

Heat rises to his cheeks as Suguru wordlessly gawks at you. To say he's taken aback is an understatement. Part of him feels so ecstatic that he could grow wings and fly off into the night sky, while another part wants him to fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

He's such an idiot. No, more than an idiot, he is an irredeemable bastard who deserves none of your sympathy after what he did, and yet you don't seem to blame him one bit. If anything, you gaze at him with more affection than you've ever shown to either him or Satoru, affection that obliterates any doubt.

It's him. For once, and for all, and against all odds, it's him who gets to stand under the mistletoe beside you.

"If you're gonna reject me, please do it now." You squint in the cutest way imaginable. "I don't want to ruin my make-up."

Suguru smiles, allowing himself to openly fawn over your concerned expression.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Might wanna," he says, vaguely gesturing at your face.

Your knuckles turn black after rubbing below your eyes. Horrified, you dig another tissue from your pocket, hurriedly scrubbing wherever you deem necessary. "Better now?"

"I'd still dash straight to the elevator if I were you." Suguru chuckles at the face you make, taking a step forward. He runs his tongue along his lips, his voice reduced to a purr when he speaks. "You're right. Don't think I can wait until Monday to see you again." The proximity between your heads begs to be nullified, and he's made up his mind. He can't afford to lose you. Not as an assistant, and certainly not as a woman. He's shameless like that.

Bringing his palm to your cheek, Suguru pulls you toward him, planting a soft peck on your lips that tastes like finally.

By the time he draws away, you're both smiling—breathless, despite the kiss lasting less than a second. His hand glides from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, caressing tenderly, while yours rises to his forehead, having mustered enough courage to tuck the the loose strands of hair behind his ear.

"I should probably go first." Your announcement prickles his heart like a thorn. Walking into this room, he'd braced himself for losing you, yet now he can't even stomach the idea of spending a minute without you. "Don't want Manager Nanami to lose his train."

Not being left with much of a choice on the matter, Suguru nods, sighing softly as he watches you grab Nanami's coat and loop it around your arm, heading for the door. Your goodbye is postponed as you turn around with a jewelry-sized box in hand, the same item you were caught fumbling with when he entered the room earlier.

"This is from Satoru." You explain. "I don't know why or what's inside, but he said I should be the one who gives it to you."

When Suguru accepts it, you smile again and bow your head. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."

On second thought, he's so happy he could die.

Suguru is tinged red from head to toe as he sends you off with the same wish, undoing the silver ribbon that holds the box together after the door closes behind you. It's too small to contain an explosive mechanism, that's for sure, but he doesn't hear much of any rattling as he shakes its contents. His confusion grows tenfold once he lifts the lid and is greeted by the folded piece of paper within.

Unfolding it, the note reads a single sentence whose meaning registers in waves that crash over him along with the memories of the past month, the truths and the lies debunked with every repetition of those seven pesky little words.

Now you know what heaven tastes like.

A/N: I know what y'all wondering, and yes. Nanami did win the competition. Oh, and Satoru totally didn't plot behind the scenes for Suguru to make the first move. totally.

Hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, since this is my first time writing for Suguru.

Disclaimer: He did nothing wrong and he remains a pookie.

Somehow.

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