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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

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❤For Your Eyes Only❤

Email 1: "Don't be ridiculous, Daddy. Give them your card." | Masterlist

CC: [email protected]; [email protected]; @pinksirensong; @aralezinspace; @sloanexx; @deniixlovezelda; @targaryenmoony; @risefallrise; @slavyanskiyahui; 🔪DO NOT OPEN THIS EMAIL ON YOUR WORK COMPUTER🔪 Dear Aemma, Daemon just called me poor for wearing jeans and a t-shirt outside. AND I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY, little miss allergic-to-low-quality-fabric, but damn, I was going to the SUPERMARKET! With Love ❤

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, sugar daddy themes, smut (man handling, choking, degradation kink, humiliation kink, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, fingering), elitism/classism, fashion police!Daemon, Daemon 'im too rich to be working in the office' Targaryen, fluff, slice of life, typos, etc.

"Daemon, you need something?"

Daemon turns from the computer on his desk to over his shoulder. His face contorts as he looks me up and down, "what are you wearing?"

He swivels on his office chair as I walk up to the counter behind him to get my keys, "I'm going to the supermarket."

"No," he furrows his brows, "I asked what are you wearing."

I stop in my tracks, looking at him as his lips curl in disgust. I make a face and shrug, "jeans and a shirt."

"That you slept in," his forehead wrinkles. I look to, yes, the shirt I wore last night as he digs his heels into the floor, rolling his chair towards me. Once he is in front of me, he grabs my left thigh and squeezes it.

"I took a shower last night," I raise a brow as he rubs my denim clad flesh. I brush his silver blonde hair back, "in case you've forgotten, you were there."

His hands dig into my waistband, fingers fidgeting with the button.

"Daemon-"

"You have to change," he mutters, looking up at me with his violet eyes.

I raise a brow, "change huh?"

I push him off when he undoes my button and fly. His chair rolls back slightly. He repels the motion by tugging himself forward by my leg. His chair rolls forward. He bites my hips through my clothes.

"Daemon, later."

He hums and lifts my shirt to bite my skin. I grunt at the feel of his teeth. He mumbles hotly against me, "I'm serious about you changing though." Daemon leans on his back rest, hands still on my thigh. He rubs me up and down, "this is a crime against humanity."

I roll my eyes.

"You look like you can't afford convenience store snacks."

I scoff, "WOW."

He shakes his head in disdain, "you look like you work for minimum wage."

"FIRST OF ALL," I shriek in annoyance, "who are the fucks that refuse to increase wages so that people like us can actually look nicer?"

Daemon narrows his brows, "I don't employ minimum wage workers."

"You mean you don't give a shit," I swat him off.

He releases me and sighs. He waves his hands around, "what's with the people like us business?"

Daemon waits for me to respond but I don't.

"You're mine," he points, "you're my person. There are no other people like you."

I snort and roll my eyes yet again. Regretfully though, could not hold back the chuckle that leaves me.

Daemon smirks, utterly pleased with himself, which was why he rolls back to this desk without a care, not that he ever actually cared, "go change."

I look at him and knit my brows, "you can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious," he turns to me, "I don't need to see another photograph of you online looking like a homeless person."

Sigh. The repercussions of dating a nepo baby.

"Daemon, the paparazzi don't take photos of me if you're not there."

He hums as he turns back to his PC and moves his mouse around, mumbling under his breath, "tell that to the journalists blackmailing me with pictures of you."

I freeze. Blackmailing? "What?"

Daemon's clicking stops. He stills then slowly turns to me.

"W-what kind of pictures-"

"Just ugly ones where you look homeless," he leans back with a stoic face.

I am rigid in my spot.

He sighs then stands. He wraps his arms around me from behind. He leans down to kiss my neck and squeezes me tightly, "it's nothing compromising," he brushes my hair back, "they just want to extort as much money as they can from me by captioning your pictures with bullshit about how badly you dress as the lover of some old money dickhead."

I release a breath. He brushes his nose against my cheek. I turn to him and give him a look, "I'm just going to the supermarket."

"I know," he purses his lips, "but I bought you all those dresses to wear, not to store."

I raise a brow, "you want me to wear designer dresses to the supermarket?"

He lets me turn to face him as he licks his lips, "no, I want you to wear designer dresses everywhere."

"Pfft," I blow a raspberry, "even at home?"

"Especially at home," he nips at my lips, making me squeak and pull away. Daemon grins as his hands scour down my body. He squeezes me tightly as he says, "wanna see your pretty arse in the shit I buy."

I roll my eyes exaggeratedly as he chuckles like a cheeky school boy.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he holds back his smile, "my man brain likes to see my woman in the clothes I picked out for her."

I press my lips together, fighting my own smile back, "ah... you picked them out, huh? You didn't just buy the first thing you saw and asked for it in my size?"

"What does it matter if it was the first thing I saw?" he looks down at my breasts and begins to massage them, "I still picked it."

I sigh but break into laugh. I swat him off and turn back, "fine," I walk away, "if you're so repulsed by jeans, then I'll change, your highness."

Daemon bites his lip and slaps my ass, prompting him to shoot him a dirty look, "unfortunately, my dear, you've got me so pussy drunk-"

I groan at his crassness.

"-I'd find you attractive even if you were covered in shit."

"Nah," I wave a hand, "you're just a kinky troll."

He laughs.

I rub my wrists together, spreading the perfume, as I walk out of my bedroom and head to the living room. I find Daemon's bored and hardened face staring blankly at his computer screen.

I snort at his clenched jaw and crossed arms. The clicking sound of my pumps reverberate in the silent room as I head over to him.

Before I reach his desk, he turns to me and immediately perks.

I smile at him as he straightens up in his chair; his hands move to his armrest. Knowing he was in the middle of an online meeting, I point to the door and mouth, 'I'm going out'.

He turns to his computer screen once then back to me, raising a hand. I shift on my spot, placing a hand on my hip as I watch him type away on his keyboard.

Two clicks later, he stands and rips out the wireless earphones from his ears. He places them on his desk and walks over to me.

I raise a brow and bring my arms to the side, "meeting's done?"

"No," he huffs, grabbing my arm, "but I sure did want an excuse to leave that fucking meeting."

Daemon pulls me into his chest and rubs my sides. The silk of my dress is smooth to the touch and it makes him smirk, "don't remember buying this for my pretty fucktoy."

I grunt then sneer at him, grabbing his jaw with my manicured nails, "that's because I bought it for myself."

Daemon smirks at that and bites at my hand, prompting me to pull away.

"Yuck," I say flatly as I wipe his saliva on his shoulder.

He steps back and brushes his hands down my bare arms. He brings one hand overhead and spins me around, eyes raking my body intently. He hisses as the skirt flares as I twirl, a teasing glimpse of my stockings-clad thighs eliciting it. Daemon pulls me back into his chest, hand on the small of my back as he nods, "very good."

I smile back at him, "well, I have good taste."

Daemon's lip curve and his eyes narrow. He fiddles with the thin chain necklace on my neck, one of the many he's gotten me, "and how much was this dress, pretty girl?"

I purse my pink painted lips. I fawn naivete, "pretty girls don't look at prices, daddy."

He chuckles deeply and grits his teeth, one hand coming to my hair, pulling my head back slowly, "daddy's card is not a toy, cupcake," he nuzzles into the crook of my neck, breathing in my scent. I knew how much he loved the smell of the perfume on me.

I whimper as I wrap my arms around him for support as he pushes me back. I let out a soft sigh when he bites down on my skin. Still, I manage to retort, "but you like it when I play with you."

His hot breath tickles me as he chuckles, "byka rene," little slut.

Daemon pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips as he says, "you're right. I like it when my stupid whore taunts me so I can make her cry."

My stomach rolls when he begins to bunch up my skirt in his hands.

"Tell me," he knits his brows, pretending to be serious, "where are you going again, dressed up like a perfect little slut?"

He digs his hands into the waistband of my stockings and yanks then down, "mmm, to pick up that shit from your parents."

I release a breath as his hands circle around my hips beneath my dress.

He raises his brows.

I place my hands on his shoulders, "t-the mall."

I simultaneously shudder and yelp as he thoughtlessly pushes me aside like a ragdoll and releases me in front of his desk. My heels skid on the floor and I nearly trip on my feet. Thankfully, I crash into his table and my hands on the surface keep me upright.

Daemon rips my stockings down to my ankles then turns me over. My hands dart to his chest and I push him back back with a grunt, successfully evading his kiss. He tenses with confusion.

"Please, don't ruin my makeup," I shake my head, "I spent hours on it. Don't wanna do it all over again."

He pulls his head back in evident offence and chuckles dryly, jaw slacking, brows raising.

I feel my lungs constrict as his hold tightens on my airways. He roughly begins to rip at my clothing.

I yelp when he flips me back over and shoves me forward. I hit his PC and his keyboard which knocks into the mouse, making it fall off the desk. My breathing strains when he pulls me back with a hand to my throat. He huffs hotly against my ear, "you think a brat like you can act out and get her way, mmm?"

"Please don't, please, please, please, please-" I trail off, using the last remaining breath I had to convince him. Soon, I begin to feel lightheaded that I have to dig into his clutch.

I catch my breath when Daemon finally loosens his grip and rips my panties down.

"Please, please, please Daemon. I really don't wanna-"

I continue my desperate pleas as his hand finds my slickened folds, fingers firmly rubbing the area. My body reacts instantly to his familiar touch.

"Enough," he barks, hand ripping away from my core to slap my ass. He releases my neck and shoves me forward. My abdomen roughly collides with the edge of the desk, even though my hands took in a great force of his blow.

"Spoiled bitch," he mutters under his breath as he frees himself from his pants.

I make a sound when he grabs my hips and begins to carelessly pound into me, intent on making a point with his roughness.

I whimper when he pulls my hair back; my hand comes to his wrist on instinct. Daemon grunts and he pants into my ear, "with all the fucking money you spend on makeup," thrust, thrust, thrust, "it should at least be able to withstand a good fuck, don't you think?"

"D-Da-"

"I'm not done speaking, brat," he cuts me off by pulling my hair.

I feel my eyes begin to water at his apathy and brutish movements. Yet, at the same time, I feel my thighs quiver with welcomed electricity.

He hums, "should I take it out on your skanky dress if I can't ruin your lipstick?"

My lips quiver, "p-please don't."

"Say something?" he mocks.

"Daemon, please."

"Louder."

"Please don't, Daemon."

He releases my hair. I lean forward on my hands. His finger dig into my my hips, "beg."

I huff as my toes curl in my heels, "please, Daemon."

"I can't he-"

"PLEASE."

He huffs.

I squeal when he touches my clit. "And what exactly are you begging for?"

"W-wanna... wanna come."

I let out a sound at one of his particularly rough thrusts.

"Greedy whore," he groans, "such a taker. Are you a gold digger?"

My body feels heavy with his ministrations on my clit. I catch my breath as I feel my imminent high build.

Daemon's hand rubs up my to my breasts, which he then squeezes. He leans into my shoulder, "I asked you a question, sweetheart," he kisses my skin, "are you gold digger?"

I huff through my nose and gulp, "n-no."

"Wrong," his hands go to my hips again, "you are a gold digger. Now say it or I'll come on your dress."

"I'm- I'm a-"

Before I can finish my thought, my knees buckle and I come undone against him. I feel myself clench around him, and he in turn takes a hand to my neck and rips me back against him. I let out a sound as my belly tightens and flutters.

"Well?" he asks impatiently as I whine.

He nips at my ear, "good girl."

"Mm- m'a go'digger- ma gol' d--"

With that, Daemon releases a lewd sound against my neck as he spasms against me. I squeal as I feel his heat spill into me and my thighs begin to shake.

Once we've both calmed down, I hear Daemon gulp as he catches his breath and pulls out of me.

I whine as he does this, leaning into his desk. He carelessly walks back to his computer and tucks himself in his pants, plopping down on his office chair.

I give him a look as he smirks at me and mutters, "makeup still looking good, babe."

I feel a wetness drip down the side of my thighs as I straighten up. I huff and gather my skirt as I bend down and pull my stockings up so I could actually walk off.

Daemon watches as I waddle away, "you're dripping you know."

"Yes, thank you," I quip dryly.

He smirks and leans back on his chair, "that good, aye?"

"Shut the fuck up."

He chuckles as he picks up his mouse, "fucking make me."

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introvertedandscared · 20 days ago

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i was recently given a writing prompt simply titled 'blue' on an online forum i use, and wanted to try my hand at doing something for it.

i'm actually really proud of it- i dont know if its my best work, it always feels that way after i make something new, but it was really therapeutic to write and hey, practice makes perfect. ill never be any good if i dont work towards it.

this piece is an expression of my gender and identity, told through a narrative perspective. most of these events are either heavily fictionalised or not actual events in my life, and i'm unsure if the main character is actually me or not, but it is heavily related to my personal thoughts, feelings, and history.

its about 959 words, a short read, enjoy! and keep an eye out for more writing on this blog if you liked this ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

Blue

My favourite shirt is blue. Not a bright, attention-catching blue, but a soft one. Like blue hydrangeas. That’s not why it’s my favourite—I don’t even like the colour blue all that much—but it’s what everyone notices about it. When my mother comes into my room and asks for the laundry, she’ll point out ‘the blue one that you wear all the time’. When my friends and I are coordinating our Halloween plans, they ask to borrow my blue shirt for their costume. My brother will tell me that my blue shirt has somehow ended up in his closet. I’ve come to think of it more as a title than anything else. My Blue Shirt. All words capitalised, because they are important.

The reason it’s my favourite shirt is because it’s mine. I bought it with my own money—I had a whole 15 bucks I’d earned from babysitting—at the small thrift store on the corner after school on a Tuesday. It had been the first thing I’d picked up off the rack, not even checking the price or size. I had a curfew, and I knew that if I didn’t buy something that afternoon, I never would. I was 12, and the shirt I grabbed was 3 sizes too large, but I didn't care. I wanted it.

I still remember the woman behind the counter that day. She was probably middle-aged. At the time, I was transfixed by strands of her greying hair. She seemed radiant and wise. Untouchable. She was beautiful.

When I laid the shirt out in front of her, she looked directly at me for the first time since I’d entered the store, an amused expression playing across her face.

“You know this is for a man, right?” She asked, taking in my short stature, my girlish pigtails and sport shorts. My t-shirt that had recently started clinging to all the wrong places on me. I hated my clothes; my mother bought them all. She asked me for my opinion, sometimes, but I was only ever given the option to choose between the lesser of two evils. This shirt or that one. Those skirts or these jeans. Lately, I’d just let her take over completely, letting my eyes wander through the aisles while she shopped. No matter what store we were in, my gaze would always land on the men's section. I always let it linger for a second too long.

“It’s… for my brother. Last minute costume change for his, um, dance team. He needs something blue,” I mumbled through my excuse, terrified the woman would question me more, but she’d already started ringing my purchase up. The bubble of hope that had been growing in my chest ever since I’d ridden my bike out of the school gates that afternoon finally burst, into something bright and fiery and right. Something completely new.

Later, at home, I tried the shirt on in front of my mirror. It reached down to my knees and looked utterly ridiculous, but it also didn’t hug my torso and hips trying to accentuate not yet existent curves. It made my body little more than a formless mass of cloth.

Five minutes after I put it on, my brother walked by my bedroom door. He took one look at me and laughed, and I laughed with him. He said I looked ‘stupid as shit’—words I still found scandalous at that time—and I’d agreed, but once he left I couldn’t bring myself to reach my own eyes in my reflection. I was scared of what I’d see.

It’s been four years, and I still have that shirt. I’m wearing it now, bent low over the bathroom sink, scissors clutched tightly in my left hand, watching my hair swirl down the drain. I feel bile rising up in my throat at the sight, but it’s not from… disgust or panic. It’s- fear. I am scared to see myself. I am scared to know, because once I do there is no going back. It may not seem like it, but I am not one to dwell on the past. I live in the now. The now where I have just sheared away all of my hair at 3 AM, in the house my great-grandparents built with their own two hands. I wonder if they would be disappointed in me.

I don’t know if my mother will be mad—it’s hard to tell with her—maybe she’ll scold me, or laugh and schedule an appointment to get the mess I’ve made fixed, or maybe she’ll reach out, eyes soft. Maybe she’ll finally see me.

But I need to see myself first. I have been blind for far too long.

I steel myself—taking a sharp, shuddering inhale of air—and look up into the face of the mirror before me. I look up, and it feels like the final piece slots into place. The final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve for four years. For my whole life.

The face staring back at me is no longer a reflection but a reality; the burning feeling in the centre of me flaring to life, consuming everything I thought I was.

I press a gentle hand to my chest, pressing down the two masses of fat and connective tissue that have always seemed to burden me more than my peers. I let the folds of blue obscure them until it almost looks as though they are not there. I wish more than anything that they weren’t.

I take myself in, gaze reverent and disbelieving.

My blue shirt is my favourite shirt, because unlike all my others, it fits perfectly. Ever since I first bought it, it has fit perfectly.

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 2 days ago

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gainerstories · 1 year ago

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Dispatches: Spring Break

Portland, OR / April 10th / Dorm Room

Hugo awoke from his nap plastered in jizz, chocolate syrup, and ice cream. He was already hard again, his erection comfortably sandwiched between his expansive thighs and ballooning gut. He started jerking absentmindedly but then remembered he had to save his loads for when he was stuffing. He always ate more when he was horny.

He lurched out of bed, his stomach sloshing with an unholy combination of cafeteria food, Boost VHC, and ice cream. He burped and rubbed his stomach, fingering the four stretch marks around his belly. He was determined to add a fifth and sixth by the time spring break was over and his roommate returned to the dorm.

After rinsing off in the shower he pulled on a size small T-shirt. Hugo had never fit into a small. His pig brain took one night and he ordered it online whilst fapping. It was the perfect shirt to wear to the grocery store. A solid two, maybe three, inches of belly fat hung free beneath the hem. Some gray sweatpants showed off his half chubbed dick and caked up ass. A denim jacket that could no longer button accentuated his protuberant gut.

Wobbling to the market on foot Hugo relished the stares his exposed overhang garnered. This was the only exercise he got without any classes. He was at the grocery store nearly every day, racking up charges parents’ credit card. The swoosh of the automatic doors felt like the embrace of an old friend as his eyes lit up at the aisles of food waiting to fatten him up.

He grabbed a cart and started in the frozen food section. Pizza, chicken wings, pasta, you name it. His criteria when shopping: does it look good and is it fattening. He moved on to ice cream, multiple tubs, and then alcohol. He tended to stick with boxed wine because it was cheap and went down easy. Next was the dairy aisle, his favorite. Butter, whole milk, heavy cream, whipped cream, sour cream, they all made it into his cart. This was usually when people started to stare.

He knew what he looked like. A young fat white slob whose clothes didn’t even fit him, gorging himself on dairy and junk food outside of his parents’ watchful eyes. People regarded him with shock and disgust, sometimes pity. He relished every moment.

After a long meander down the snack food aisle and a quick detour through produce just for show, Hugo went to the register. The cashier awkwardly rang up the food while trying not to look at Hugo’s exposed lard, hairy and hanging heavy with stretch marks. The total was nearly two hundred dollars and at that moment he realized he had forgotten his personal cart for the walk home. Hugo was blighted with carrying all of this home by hand, unless…

He pulled out his phone and ordered a rideshare. It was only three blocks, but what was a fat boy supposed to do? Go home empty handed? Or worse, burn all the calories it would take to carry this back himself?

The rideshare driver regarded Hugo with more disgust than anyone at the grocery store. With the backseat filled with groceries, Hugo sat in the front. He made a show of breathing heavy and scratching at his stretch marks, even burping a couple times on purpose. The driver could barely contain himself when Hugo asked for help unloading the groceries. He still obliged.

Hugo’s room was dark and dingy, covered in take out containers, smelling of dick. “Fuckin’ pig” the driver muttered under his breath when he first walked in. When they were finished, he looked directly at the soft roll of flesh hanging over Hugo’s elastic pants and said “hit the gym, man.”

Hugo shut the door and cracked a Boost.

Read the rest here

#gainer stories #weight gain #chubby chaser #chubby guy #weight gain fiction #gay gainer #gay bear #ex jock #gay weight gain

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calbeloved · 17 days ago

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finallyyyyyy getting this out 🤏🤏 i had it 90% finished for days cause i just kept forgetting to write the last part and now that it's over. just noticed the quick "ending" is like 800 words long. well. enjoy arthur and kaiser now and the almost whole 3000 words of them

set somewhere between osnf and opd, no real spoilers, just the setting

tw/cw for a panic attack (sort of), internalized transphobia and a lot a lot a lot of overthinking

Perhaps the most embarrassing thing of all is getting caught in an act. It's been like this for as long as Kaiser can remember; from a teacher spotting him copying homework to an old man catching him door ditching with Bruno, all he has ever felt is embarrassment. Shame and embarrassment, overtaking him whole.

The knowledge is the worst. You know the person noticed you– they know, and that alone produces enough shame to put Kaiser into a panic attack. And then the ancipetation and the anxiety; they always say something, it's just a matter of when. Will they do it in private, or around people? Will they only send a look or will they scream, or maybe just hit your shoulder?

The shame, the embarrassment… Kaiser knows, in the back of his mind, that it should not be like that. The thought of a cashier scanning his groceries should not make him want to throw up.

And yet it is exactly like that. Ever since he can remember.

…he tries not to let it bother him. It's just hard sometimes.

Because despite what everyone might think, Kaiser doesn't have many boxers. And all of them are either too small or uncomfortable to wear, other than one pair.

(The thought of going into a store and trying to pick them out while not only the workers observe him, but the other customers will too– He cannot even think of standing there so awkwardly; everyone who takes one look at him would know he doesn't have an idea what he's doing. What would they think? What if he does something wrong and the customers notify the workers and then they kick him out– but not before ridiculing him in front of everyone, God, he can already hear what they would say, feel the shame. He cannot do that. He can't.)

So he does what he does best. Uses the computer. Buys them online.

He does his own laundry (obviously) and tries his best to hide the different underwear. He doesn't speak about it– doesn't dare think.

And yet. When Arthur creeps into his room at night (or when he inevitably does into Arthur's) his friend is always in boxers and a loose fitting, old t-shirt. Kaiser tries not to stare each time, he does, but it's… hard not to. It's not because he likes Arthur's ass or anything– (well…) but Arthur looks… like himself. Comfortable. Used to it all. And of course he is, he's a man, and not the kind that Kaiser is, he's a man man. A normal one.

He tries not to think about it, but it's hard when Arthur starts coming into his room directly after showering and spends most of his time there– sometimes, he forgets his clothes. It's not… a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal, not anything other than a start of a joke, but…

Arthur leaves his boxers on Kaiser's bed. Sometimes.

If they're dirty, he usually remembers to take them back to his room to throw them into the bin, but it's less common if they're clean. Not just underwear either, all kinds of things end up in his room nowadays. Shirts, belts, money, guitar picks… everything, really.

And… Kaiser would never steal someone's underwear. Especially his friend's. That's just– weird, that has to be weird.

He doesn't want to be thinking about it, but he can't stop– it's awful and embarrassing and he'd rather Arthur stopped doing it. Even if him being there makes Kaiser feel better and light with laughter and when Arthur is next to him, breathing and fine, he can actually sleep instead of turning all night, and everytime he finds something that isn't his in the closet he's overcome by such domesticity and happiness and content– he knows they're close and something like a family, but to find proof of it…

So. It's… something. Not an problem, but an issue nonetheless.

But by the end of the day, it always ends with shame and a panic attack, no matter what pills he takes, or how much he tries to do the correct breathing exercises.

Which is exactly why he's sitting on the bathroom floor after Arthur asked him if he knew where his boxers went.

And it's not like Kaiser is stupid, he can lie, he knows how to lie, but he just cannot get a word out when all he can think about is taking that stupid piece of material into his own pile of dirty clothes and putting it deep into his closet after the laundry was done; Arthur surely has to know he's the one who took it, because who else would? And what kind of person does that, who steals fucking underwear of other people? What sort of person does that?

His skin burns and his chest feels tight– he wants to claw it all off, along with the boxers (not his) on his body.

It's embarrassing. It's weird. Why does he have to be so fucking weird?

There's a knock on the door and Kaiser wants to cry; he should have known he'd get caught, he should have just not done it. It's not like it's his house, even, he's living here because Ivete and Arthur wanted him to– where would he go if they decided they hate him? To the Order, where they'd see each other anyway? No, he wouldn't be able to take that; maybe moving to… America would work? He doesn't know enough English to communicate without misunderstandings, but if his father was there once and did fine, surely Kaiser can do it too?

“Kaiserrrr, come on. Are you this bummed about losing in Uno?” Arthur's voice comes from behind the door, only partially muffled. He's audibly smiling, yet there's a tightness to his words; he's probably thinking Kaiser could be having another attack. “I promise I'm going to let you win next round.”

Which… he's clearly not having any sort of attack. Obviously.

There's a pause. “Kaiser?” Another knock on the door, but this one seems more like Arthur put his hand on the wood instead, not even wanting to make a noise. “It's okay if you don't want to talk, we don't even have to play tonight– just open the door? So I know you're alright?”

And fuck, how can he do that? Meet Arthur face on?

“...I'm fine,” he tries to say instead, keeping his voice clear of coming out shaky as much as he can.

He doesn't think it works. It comes out both broken and creaking, too loud to be a whisper but too quiet to be a normal answer. Kaiser winces.

“...please open the door.”

Kaiser does. He's not that stupid.

It unlocks with a quiet click and less than a second later Arthur is already coming in and looking him up and down, concern clear in his eyes.

“I'm fine.” Kaiser repeats, and this time, puts more confidence behind it.

Arthur stops and looks, and steps closer to pull Kaiser into a hug.

Kaiser– Kaiser feels like crying. He doesn't, because that'd make Arthur more worried and he never wants that, but… It's a near thing.

“Do you want to go back to your room?” Arthur asks softly into his ear, and Kaiser knows that he means together. Only…

He doesn't know. Arthur doesn't know it was him.

Kaiser feels his mouth go dry and his throat tighten. He nods anyway, because– what, he's supposed to break it to Arthur? When he knows it'd make Arthur hate him? He can't do that.

And Arthur is as gentle as he always is when it's the two of them when he leads Kaiser into his room, and Kaiser wants to scream and never open his mouth again. Arthur's so fucking nice. How can he deserve someone like that?

The guitar, once again, is already in his room. Arthur sits him down on the bed and covers his shoulders with a blanket; he takes the guitar into his hand and leans back, so their shoulders are touching.

He plays.

Well. Strums, at the very least. Calming sounds that repeat themselves over and over before changing into a different tune.

Kaiser stares at the strings and thinks about things that don't matter to avoid thinking of… that.

He always wanted to play the guitar. But he never learned as a child and after that there was no time– if he asked Arthur now, he'd probably be glad to teach Kaiser. Sometimes Agatha asks about something to do with it and Arthur goes on a rant, or the Dragões Metalicos stop him to make conversation and if none of them have somewhere to be, they'll talk for hours. It's something he enjoys. It'd be nice to share that.

Kaiser… Fuck. He can't just sit here and pretend nothing happened.

“...Arthur.” His voice is quiet and raspy; if he were not so stressed he'd probably enjoy it more.

Arthur hums and doesn't stop the strumming– good, there's something to focus on, something to distract him from breaking down.

Kaiser tries to breathe. It's not that big of a deal. Arthur can hate him and it is a big deal, but saying it itself is not. He can do it. Easily. No problem.

“‘m sorry.” He feels tears prickle his eyes. So fucking embarrassing. Why is he crying over this?

“...for what?” Arthur's trying to stay calm; Kaiser knows him too well not to be able to tell. Fucking stupid Kaiser worrying him again with his stupid problems.

Fucking hell. Blood rises to his face and all he feels is hotness and he wants to die. Just say it. Just say it. “I took your boxers.”

Arthur blinks. He tilts his head and pauses the strumming. “You…”

“I didn't mean to!” He did. He did; why is he lying through his teeth? You think you can save this? Go on, Kaiser, start the fucking show, see if it'll make a difference. “They were just in my room and I didn't notice when I was doing the laundry and I'm so sorry, I didn't realise they were yours and I took them, and I–”

“Kaiser– Kaiser, it's okay!” Arthur interrupts with a chuckle; a laugh he knows very well. Arthur only chuckles this way when he has to deal with Kaiser's breakdowns. “Man, seriously– it's not a big deal. It's fine; don't even worry about it. Seriously.”

The breath catches in his throat. Not a big deal. Of course Arthur wouldn't care. What was he thinking? Of course it's fine.

Kaiser looks away and tries to get his breathing under control; embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. Why was he so anxious about doing this? He shouldn't be hyperventilating over this, it's not a big deal, it was never a big deal.

“...yeah. Okay.”

Arthur stares. He pushes the guitar to the side and shuffles closer to Kaiser. “Not a big deal. I can always buy more– it's okay.”

Fucking…

Kaiser closes his eyes as tight as he can. He won't cry, he can't cry, this isn't something he should be crying over.

It's okay.

He– He can't…

Arthur's arm slides under his armpit. It goes to his back while Arthur places his chin on Kaiser's shoulder. Stable, here, close, weight, not hurt…

“It's okay. Just breathe. We're all fine, cutie.”

He tries. He really, really tries. But he can't stop thinking about it, can't stop being so aware of them fitting to his skin comfortably– it doesn't bother him at all and that's what hurts.

“I can't– I'm sorry, I can't, I can't–” He tries to breathe. The air is escaping his lungs and refusing to come back and he's getting dizzy now; he knows this, he just has to calm down, just has to breathe, it's okay.

Arthur's finger slowly make circles into his skin and it's so gentle. He wonders what Arthur would think if he did that just a bit lower– what would he say if he knew how much of a weirdo Kaiser really is?

But he doesn't dare to ask that out loud. He doesn't want to know.

It takes a while; of minutes where he's almost there and remembers exactly why he's crying and everything starts again, silent sharp inhaling of air and the occasional murmur of Arthur's “it's okay”.

…Kaiser doesn't want to talk. His heart is still beating uncontrollably fast when he rests his head on Arthur's shoulder, and if he speaks, he's going to die. He can't do this. He can't.

Arthur's hand goes up into his hair– twirling the long strands between fingers. “Yeah?” His voice is a low murmur, familiar and safe.

…this guy. He knows Kaiser as much as Kaiser knows him. It makes him smile, just a tiny bit.

He does not want to speak– probably can't, anyway. Just nods against Arthur's skin.

“Mmhm. What's going on, then?”

“It's nothing. Stupid.” He moves his own hands too– tightly grips the back of Arthur's shirt between his fingers. “Fucking–”

Well. He can speak, as awful as it is. And Arthur knows that. Obviously he does. He knows how much of a fuck-up Kaiser is in this case; how words stop making sense at times like this and every sentence turns into a chain– chains that keep multiplying and weighing him down until he's drowning again.

“I'm just being stupid. It's nothing.”

He can practically see the smile on Arthur's face. “Is it really stupid, or you just think that?”

Of course it's stupid. Not only the… act itself is weird and stupid and embarrassing– he couldn't even say it. How much more stupid can that get?

Kaiser lets himself snort. “Stupid.”

Arthur tugs him a bit closer in response; guides Kaiser's head deeper into his neck, covers more of his back. Safe. “I don't think it's stupid if you feel bad about it, you know.”

Of course you don't.

“I took your boxers, dude, that's just weird. It's stupid.”

“I'd take Joui's boxers if I could, if that makes you feel better?”

It doesn't, but it would be funny to see that. Just a bit.

“Pffh. Sure you would.”

He snorts and knows a pout has appeared on Arthur's face. He can see it with his eyes closed at this point. Arthur does it a lot, especially when they play board games. An event that has become familiar to him by now; it's surprisingly nice to get all together and just… be.

(Kaiser can appreciate game nights at his big age; back when it was only him and his mother, there weren't a lot of board games they could play, just the two of them. Maybe cards, but Kaiser didn't like those too much, so they never did that often.)

“I can always take yours, don't test me.” Arthur snickers and he…

…no. He cannot bear to even imagine Arthur's expression if he were to open the drawers in Kaiser's room. There's a reason he hates having people in here when he himself is not present, why he locks the door when they go out, even if all other ones stay open wide.

There's a pause. Kaiser doesn't speak. Arthur falls silent.

“That's a joke. I wouldn't do that, if you don't want me to.”

Kaiser swallows. It's okay. Arthur is fine. He's not nosy like that. It's okay. He wouldn't just do that. “Yeah. I don't."

This time, Arthur's hand goes all the way down to the ends of his hair when he brushes it. He does it a couple of times before wrapping around Kaiser's back once more; tight but loose enough to get out of if he wanted to.

“Well– guess we have to go shopping, then. Tomorrow, if you want to?”

…shopping. “What?”

Arthur breaks the hug. He leans away just far enough so they can see each other's face. He's smiling.

“...I guess.” He looks down at the guitar and tries not to bite his lip. Arthur would notice that one.

“To buy me more boxers, duh. We can get you some as well– Man, we need to get a matching set!” He tilts his head and the smile doesn't wash away and it's… honest. Not some ploy to get Kaiser to look stupid or make him the butt of a joke. (How would he do that, if he doesn't know? Arthur has no reason to believe he is anything but a man. And that's good. It's… good. He doesn't need anyone to know. Or want. Obviously.)

He thinks of being in a store with Arthur– Arthur who is loud and shameless and would take up all the attention with a grin. He'd make jokes and try to get him to buy something stupid like the boxers with the hearts on them, but it'd be easy to buy in the same size. He could get something good. Feel the fabric before purchase, see how the material stretches, actually see if he likes it before he wears it.

Fuck it.

“Yeah. I'm free tomorrow.”

Arthur grins in response. “Neat.” He looks back at the door and back at Kaiser; “...Did you really not want to play Uno? I'm feeling up for a game.”

“Can we just- sit here for a moment? I want… I want to hear you play for a bit longer.”

“Awh. Of course, man.”

Kaiser feels his cheeks blush– but he just snorts in response. He leans on Arthur's side and lets himself relax. Of course it'd be okay. Of course Arthur wouldn't care. He's just like that, isn't he?

(Kaiser has no idea how he deserved someone like him. But he does not want to cry again today; he just lays his head on Arthur's shoulder and presses himself a bit closer. There's no reason to hide his smile, so he doesn't.)

#this was supposed to be just a tiny thing cause i was having a bad day and needed to take it out #um #yeah it grew #based on the fact that arthur canonically leaves his underwear on kaisers bed shshsh #i love them #trans kaiser trans kaiser trans kaiser 🫶🫶🫶#also. please do note that i dont actually know anything about boxers #sorry if i?? got anything wrong??? thats a very niche topic i feel like. uh. yeah #calworks

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 years ago

Text

Being in a relationship with Kure Raian...

You’d think that Raian, although he’s the black sheep of the clan, would be as obsessed over strong people and fighting as everyone else is - Just like Karla is obsessed over Ohma not because she likes him, but because he’s strong and could produce strong offsprings and whatever - But Raian isn’t that way.

In fact, even if people like that catch his eye, he would fight the urge to march up to them and strike up a conversation - Rather, if he does find strong people, he might just beat them up.

But there is something that would make Raian all hot and bothered - And that is getting ignored.

Yeah, that’s right.

Raian would literally spontaneously combust if he wants someone’s attention, and he’s getting blatantly ignored or brushed off.

That’s exactly what happened when his younger sister, Fusui, brought over one of her friends. At first, he didn’t care. You were just some pretty face, like many, many others he’s seen... But somehow, your aloof personality and the resting bitch face you were sporting, a complete opposite aura from Fusui, who held the most cheerful grin on her face - Okay, he was intrigued. Not only that, but from what his sister said, you were just a normal person - A cute, little rabbit in a den of lions - Yet you seemed completely at ease and unafraid.

In an instant, Raian found himself towering his large shadow over the spot on the grass where the two girls were having a picnic. He had that psycho grin of his ever present. Fusui greeted him cheerfully, though she sweatdropped, realising that he might be so bored that he wants to scare her friend away.

Y/N simply gave him a lazy wave of her hand - Her attention was still on Fusui, and she didn’t once break the flow of their conversation. He frowned. Not even a hello? How rude!

Raian’s voice became louder, but also grittier, like the sound of nails scratching a blackboard. He was throwing the most random profanities, and telling Y/N about his latest assassination mission he had, hoping to creep her out with the gore details - Much to his surprise, the small girl casually got to her feet and looked, incredibly bored, into his eyes.

“Hey, Ryan, where did you get this shirt?” Raian blinked, his smile dropping immediately, feeling the girl gingerly pick the hem of his shirt and feeling it. “It feels like cashmere. Is it cashmere? It’s really good quality.” “My name is Raian, you bitch! Get it through that thick skull of yours!” Fusui immediately reprimanded him for insulting her friend - But the insult fell on deaf ears. “Tell me where’d you get it from, Kevin. I kinda want to get one myself.” her hands slowly traced up to his abdomen, but Raian was so flustered up and irritated by getting called such weird names, that he didn’t notice. “I SAID MY NAME IS RAIAN, ARE YOU DEAF?!” he was shouting so loudly, that Y/N could have sworn her eardrums ruptured. “It would be better if the store had an online site - I don’t really have much time to go shopping myself. Actually - Do you think I could have it delivered for Kure Miguel?” Fusui was sure her friend had a death wish, but at the same time, it was kinda hilarious seeing her brother so worked up over his name. “WHO THE FUCK IS MIGUEL?!” his screech was so powerful that he’d put a Banshee to shame. “Dunno.” Y/N shrugged and pushed Raian into the small water pond right behind him. The water barely reached his waist as he was sitting in it, a lilypad on his head. “I’ll kill you.” his voice was so ominous, low, dark, menacing - And solemn, above all else - That Fusui’s heart froze in fear for her friend’s life. “WAIT, NO, RAIAN DON’T ---” but Y/N was laughing so cutely, that Raian stopped abruptly, glaring down at her. Instead of killing her, he threw his arms around her, hearing her groan. “I~ Got~ You~ So~ Weeeeeeeet~ ♪ Babeeeeeeeeeee~♪“ Fusui has never seen her brother like this - She could just stare in complete disbelief. “Technically speaking, I made you wet, Fritz.” the girl put her palm over his face, pushing him away from her. “Now you’ve done it.” Raian grinned widely. Y/N realised his master plan, and she sighed in defeat. “You’re gonna throw me in the water, aren’t you?” he let out a ‘yup’ sound, before he threw her in the pond. If the water was any higher, he’d have jumped with her - But with how little it is, she probably would have barely gotten wet at all. He was laughing so hard, his sides were aching, but he couldn’t stop. She looked like a wet, grumpy dog - Until she, too, started laughing. “Alright, alright, you got me. Good one. Now help me up, psycho.” Raian missed the mischievous smile on her face, and as he crouched down, extending his hand for her to take - Only for her to tug on his hand and have him fall in the water again. “You’re the psycho, not me!” the two looked at each other and started sniggering like two idiots. Fusui just stared at them, perplex, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. Did Y/N just manage to tame the Black Sheep of the Kure Clan? Something that not even their Patriarch could do? “You owe me your shirt.” she said blankly, stopping her laughter abruptly. “Any time~♪“ Raian nonchalantly took his shirt off and let it fall on her head. “...Okay, I might have just sabotaged myself.” she sighed, getting up and out of the pond. “I was supposed to have a sleep over. I don’t have any dry clothes anymore.” she stole a glance at the man. “I suppose I can’t stay over anymore. What a pity. Time to get home, I guess.” she shrugged nonchalantly, waving at Fusui and walking towards the exit of the large garden, only to feel herself being picked up bridal style.

Raian had taken her to his room and threw at her all cashmere clothes he had, while Y/N could barely hide her amusement. Clearly, she could wear some of Fusui’s clothes, after all, they’re around the same frame and they are friends - Or she could borrow the clothes of literally any woman of the Kure - Silly boy, so easily tricked. Or maybe he wanted to be tricked? Either way, Y/N found this, by far, the most hilarious situation she ever faced.

By this time, Raian kept bugging on Y/N and Fusui for the whole day, and during the evening, at dinner, Erioh and Karla and her brother had them all eat together. Y/N looked at her friend, her eyes pleading, embarrassed at the get up she was wearing. Suddenly, the whole joke was ruined and she was the one being tricked. How can she possibly go eat dinner with their 1000 year old patriarch and the rest of the family, when she’s barely wearing Raian’s shirt, and albeit long enough to reach the middle of her thigh, it was still improper. Raian didn’t give her any time to beg Fusui for a proper change of clothes, for he grabbed her wrist and dragged her and his sister all the way to the table. He was also still shirtless, so it only made things worse.

Y/N kept her head down the whole time, hoping that her face wouldn’t betray her embarrassment. Karla, Sarla and Fusui were talking casually about their assassin work, Y/N threw some comments here and there, the old man was quiet, and Raian was... Being Raian, and wolfing down a shit ton of food. Until Karla suddenly noticed there was no more water, and the fight for who would be the loser to bring another water carafe started. It genuinely felt like all the Kure children were going to put down the chopsticks and start a brawl to the death - But Y/N broke the tension. “Ah... There’s no more water. This food is so good, but it got me so thirsty... Can you please tell me where the kitchen is, to get more water?” before the old man could blink, Raian had already returned, and was pouring water in Y/N’s cup. “Oh! Thank you, Jericho!” ... Jericho? Erio had no idea what was going on, but he was genuinely impressed by how this outsider managed to quite literally manipulate the most rebelious clan member to do whatever she wanted... And prevented a war. And he was also shocked when he saw Raian placing his small rice bowl over her face, and laughing like an idiot, to the point he was rolling on the ground like a manic.

Y/N slowly removed the bowl from her face and used a napkin to clean all the rice, and she sighed. “Alright, I suppose I deserve it.” her nonchalance was genuinely so weird for all these proactive people. “Your stomach is going to hurt if you continue rolling like that.” she warned. “Also, it’s not nice, playing with your food. What are you, a kitten, Abraham?” Raian straightened up immediately and glared at the girl, watching her continuing to eat without sparing him a single glance. “WHO THE FUCK IS ABRAHAM?! AND I’M NOT A FUCKING CAT, YOU STUPID BITCH!” he shrieked loudly into her ear, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, the hand in which she was holding her own rice bowl slowly made its way to his face. Raian’s whole face had rice all over it, and Y/N wasn’t removing the bowl. “Take this off me, bitch, or I snap your neck!” that is what he said - Or, at least, what he tried to say, for the rice kept muffling him. “It’s not nice to speak like that, especially in front of your family... Or... To me. You really made me sad...” her voice was pouty and upset - Erio couldn’t believe the power she had over him, and as far as he was concern, this was the first time they met. By the looks of it, everyone was still in shock. “Y/N....” she slowly took away the bowl from his face, and with perfect precision, used her chopsticks to take a single rice grain from his face, and taunted him by eating it.

The whole room was quiet. They were preparing for the girl’s funeral. That is, until they saw her turn her head to the side, biting her lip and her shoulders were shaking. Raian’s face also suddenly split in a wicked grin. Suddenly, a few rice grains started falling off his face, and Y/N couldn’t keep herself in check anymore, and she started laughing, and so did the psycho. Y/N took another rice with her chopsticks, and they ended up laughing even harder. “Weirdos.” Fusui smiled wryly, completely surprised that her friend was getting along with her brother better than with her. “Y/N’s going to be our new sister, Fusui! I want to take care of your babies with Raian! I bet they’re going to be so strong!” the laughter stopped, and the atmosphere changed immediately. Y/N looked down, her face red with embarrassment, whilst Raian immediately wiped his face and glared at Karla, shouting at her for being an idiot. After this, no other fun moments happened, and Y/N returned to Fusui’s room.

Surprisingly, Raian doesn’t always act like he’s fucked in the head, nor is his voice harsh and loud. Late into the night, he sneaked into the girls’ room and woke Y/N up, and with a playful smirk, he urges her to follow him outside, and he takes her back to the pond. The two didn’t speak much, and just gazed up at the stars for a while. It was a serene and comfortable silence, though there was a certain tension between them, and neither spoke. It was weird.

Raian would take off his warm jacket and put it over her shoulders, as she was still wearing just his cashmere shirt - He knew it would be chilly outside. He knew he wanted to see her, but he had no idea what to say. Karla’s comment really threw him off his grove, and it seemed to have done the same for Y/N, who was able to purposely get a raise out of him so many times in a single day, to the point that he was so hot and bothered that he’d have claimed her on the spot. A hundred times, and more. But that vanished completely, and now he annoyingly felt like some kind of awkward teenage boy, and he hated it.

“Hey, Bruce Lee.” Y/N’s voice wasn’t challenging nor provoking, and though it irked Raian to be called by a wrong name again, the softness of her voice only made him grumble. “Do you know how to put 100 babies in a single bucket?” “Huh? What the hell are ya on?” he snapped his head at her, looking with a weird expression on his face. Y/N turned to face him, and her smile grew, as if she was trying not to laugh at herself for the stupid joke she was about to reveal. “In a blender.”

Raian stared stupid at her, eyes wide, unblinking - He almost looked as though he was analysing the very milimeters of her ever growing grin. Raian’s humour was shit. Dark jokes that involve carnage, or simply shock value... Maybe even a shit joke, but with a good momentum delivery... And Y/N’s joke seemed to check all the boxes.

His laugh resounded so loud through the Kure village that the two actually heard “SHUT UP” scolds right back. Y/N was trying hard to stifle her chuckles, but to no avail. “You’re actually kinda cute when you laugh.” “What’s big and smells like shit? GENOCIDE!” he was choking from laughing so much, while Y/N’s mouth twitched. Shit joke, shit delivery. “Your joke was about as bad as your sense of humour, Jose. But it’s fine. I’ll be the funny one of us.” she looked away, shrugging nonchalantly. “If ya call me by another name ONE! MORE! TIME!!! I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya, babe!” he sneered at her with a glare. “Do it, Dennis.” Y/N found herself being roughly pushed to the ground, though her head didn’t collide, as it was carefully pillowed by his palm. She did not see the starry night, but his face - Handsome, and so impossibly close to her own. He sniggered like a mischievous demon. “You’re trapped, babe~♪ What’cha gonna do now~♪?”

Y/N blinked, realising the situation she was in. Not only was she trapped in those big and warm arms of his, but his body was also almost flush against her own. They were so close, that she feared Raian felt how fast her heart was beating against her chest... And against his own also.

But Y/N’s response was unexpected - Gingerly wrapping her fingers into his cashmere shirt... Did he choose it intentionally? - She pulled herself up to plant tender kiss on his lips. For a maniac, he had very plump and kissable lips. Eventually, she pulled away and laid back on the ground, shyly looking at the completely unresponsive boy.

Kure Raian, the Demon, the Black Sheep of the Kure clan - Was blushing like a highschool boy with a crush. How is he supposed to react? What is he supposed to do? Just -- What just happened? He is so lost that he’s making Y/N uncomfortable with how he’s staring at her so intently.

“U-Uh... Wh-What do you call a baby with no arms and no legs in the middle of the ocean?” hearing her voice, albeit, shaky and unsure, unlike before, brought him back to reality. “What?” he breathed out. “...Fucked.” Y/N’s smile was so nervous and awkward. “Marry me.”

Since that night, Raian began his “Marry me” gimmick - And though it was obviously a gag, he half-meant it every time he said it.

Nobody ever believed that Raian would ever have a proper relationship, considering that everyone ostracizes him for being a merciless idiot, but the way he’s unintentionally simping SO hard for you is almost hilarious. How you learnt to tame the beast that he is, it’s a complete miracle. The Clan literally watches you, leaning at the base of a tree, reading leisurely, and you bait Raian into doing whatever you want, like - Make you a lemonade, or have him go get an ice-cream. All the weirdest things.

But if that wasn’t shocking enough, the fact that that boy can actually stay STILL for more than 5 seconds at a time, was absolutely fascinating. The patriarch would sit on the porch of the house and watch Raian sitting with his head on your lap as you absently play with his hair - And he actually stays there, and doesn’t laugh, or speak a thousand words per second, or throws profanities - He’s just laying there, a passive smile on his face, and living in the moment.

What a fascinating creature.

Raian always tells you all the most gruesome details of every mission he goes on, hoping he would creep you out - But you just nod at him dismissively and tell him to go on with his story.

Raian loves to show off when he’s training, knowing perfectly well that he’s attractive, wearing only his fighting shorts, with sweat dripping all over his flexed muscles... And then chases you around the garden to give you a hug, knowing you don’t want his disgusting sweat all over your clothes.

Fusui becomes your literal best friend, though you’re wary of Karla and her obsessive comments - She’s a good girl otherwise. Generally, you get along well with the clan, but both you and Raian agree that you need a break from them, so you crash at your own, away from all the madness the chaotic assassins dwell in.

When you’re hanging at your home, you feel more comfortable to act a bit more intimate. Don’t be fooled by his brashness, if you get together before he’s like - 20 years old, he’d probably brush off the idea of going any further - Unless you initiate it, then he’s game.

He just likes to be the best at everything he does, and while he was born into a family of fighting and killing, being intimate is something completely different, and it annoys him that he’s not a God from the very beginning - Although, he makes up with his eagerness and his absolute love of touching each and every part of your body and teasing you with a ton of kisses. He’s actually a natural, and the cute faces and sounds you make are his fuel, especially when he surprises you.

When you get intimate, he’s not afraid to experiment things and easily picks up on the things that you like and you don’t.

He also loves kissing you until you can’t breathe anymore.

Kisses with Raian are careful and soft at first, but quickly get deeper and more passionate, and he starts kissing and nipping at your bottom lip, licking and sucking on it before pulling you even closer to his body.

The problem is, he loves hugging you from behind and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck that he forgets he’s not always at home, in private, with you only, and he starts nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

The inside joke of calling him different names continues well into the years, and it confuses most people - The problem is, you often forget what names you used, and he teases you by pointing out you called him the same name twice in a week.

He wants to see you wearing his shirt at home and preferably nothing else underneath, while he stays topless and purposely flexes, to the point that he’s ridiculous.

Raian is incredibly playful, even if it goes borderline genocidal, it’s just how he is - And you always make fun of him for trying too hard.

Years after you met, he gets in the Kengan Annihilation Tournament, and of course, he refuses to go unless you’re with him - And honestly, how can anyone complain, considering you’re the only thing keeping him somehow stable? Though, you sometimes have the bad habit of letting him play around a bit too much.

You also kinda laugh when he’s threatening and playing around with Lihito in the bathroom, though you also scold him for dragging you in the men’s bathroom and unintentionally being forced to see that idiot’s... Privates.

You’re also a bit irked by his unnecessary sadist show against Mokichi, especially as he’s called out your name, and you wanted nothing to do with him killing the only guardian of a little girl.

When you scolded and refused to speak to him until he apologised, he got angry as all fuck and went on a rampage, and despite the Kure literally pleading to you to make him stop - You didn’t.

Surprisingly, though, he was humbled in the second round by Tokita Ohma - And you mentally thanked the brunet for being strong enough and putting a dent into Raian’s ever-going berserk attitude.

Though Ohma was in a coma, Raian woke up soon after, and he found in the infirmary, alone with Mokichi and Ohma.

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the oxygen machines, and you refused to even look at him, which angered him.

But then you explained why you were pissed with him, and also, why he lost so pathetically - And though he wanted to snap your neck for scolding him, he also knows she was right, not that he’d admit.

During the coup d’etat, he threw all of his frustrations into mass-killing, but once again, his bloodlust made him lose focus, and he got injured again.

Though you didn’t say anything, you did patch him up - He was so silent, that it made you realise he was actually reflecting on his downfall.

And you kissed him.

Over the course of almost three years after the Kengan Tournament, when Ohma comes over to the village to life and train with them, you can see Raian focusing more, and though the brutality is still there, he can actually control it.

Ohma became a trusted confidant and good friend of yours, and the two of you could comfort each other with the two Kure obsessing over you.

Raian’s gimmick with the marriage thing was amped up, though it was more or less to make fun of Karla... Not that she’d realise.

Over the years, Raian made sure to actually teach you how to fight to defend yourself, despite priding himself with being being so powerful that she’d never get herself in danger.

When you reveal Ohma to the world and go visit Koga and Ryuki at the hospital, you see Raian had climbed up the 5th floor and was mocking the young boys.

So you went up to him and pushed him off.

Everyone except for Ohma gawked, afraid for his life.

You just show him the selfie Raian sent you, while he was falling - He was pulling an overly exaggerated kissy face.

Dork.

He was a bit annoyed with how empathetic you were, comforting or cheering every fighter (except for Akoya) for their matches, so he keeps you caged in his arms, teasing you with small comments and kisses to your neck and cheeks.

To stop himself from going ape-shit from the wait leading to his own match, he snatched your hands and would absently play with them or kiss them.

Though the whole Worm thing was worrying you - You didn’t want anything bad happening to the family, or these Kengan people. They all looked like good people.

But then Raian’s match came by and he was fighting Alan Wu, a clear enemy.

You pulled Raian into a kiss, more or less to have the time to warn him not to lose his cool and actually focus on the match, not on his bubbling emotions.

He just grins and brush off your worries, saying he’s a changed man and what not.

But then he gets threatened with a knife, sees Edward Wu in the hallway...

And he rips Alan in two in a split second, running after his arch enemy.

You stare at the mess left behind that was once a person, and you curse out loud - Raian’s lost it and he’s gonna get in trouble.

You don’t care that Alan was killed, but you fear Raian and his impulsiveness might get him in such a tight situation that he might get himself killed.

Even though Erio and the other two are there.

You and Ohma look at each other, and together, you pick Karla and rush to look for Raian, ready to potentially help him in a fight.

Only to see Kure Erio on the ground and dying.

Raian was sitting on the ground, livid with anger, feeling defeated.

They should have won with no casualties! So why the heck did the old fart use himself bait?! And why wasn’t he strong enough to kill those fuckers without the need of aid?!

He was filled with so many feelings of self-hatred and anger, that even your arms around him, or your comforting words couldn’t drown them out.

You held his hand throughout the funeral and comforted him for days on end, but Raian was still bitter.

Since then, you took a more active role in searching for the Worms - You might not have been a fighter, but you were smart enough to come up with plans and do the brain work for them.

Since the patriarch’s death, Raian visibly mellows down, at least around you, and he finally realises how fragile life can be - And if even that old man, who was the strongest man he knows, who was the first Fang of Metsudo and whatever... If even he could die... What about someone like you, who’s such a fragile little bunny? What if he’s not there to protect you? Not that his presence mattered when Erio died. And, worse - What if you’re used as bait to get to him? What if you get killed in front of him?

Being an assassin means that he’s seen and done a lot of cruel things himself, so he puts all the worst in front.

The night of the patriarch’s funeral, you hold his body close to your own, his head on your chest, and you play with his hair, allowing him to vent his anger with any profanity he might feel the need to spew.

But his silence is far worse than all his anger.

During that very night, Raian came to the realisation of a lifetime.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, and hides his face in the crook of your neck, so you wouldn’t see the single tear of sheer self-anger and regret.

And in the most broken, vulnerable voice, you hear him voice the words that he’s been meaning to tell you for so long, but stopped himself, thinking he’d sound weak or something that didn’t matter anymore.

“I love you.”

---------------

Being in a relationship with Wakatsuki Takeshi... Being in a relationship with Yoroizuka Saw Paing... Being in a relationship with Kure Raian... Being in a relationship with Tokuno’o Tokumichi... Being in a relationship with Kano Agito... Being in a relationship with Gaolang Wongsawat... Being in a relationship with Gaoh Ryuki... Being in a relationship with Narushima Koga... Being in a relationship with Hatsumi Sen

#kengan ashura imagine #kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura #kengan omega #kengan omega x reader #kengan omega imagine #kure raian x reader #kure raian imagine #kure raian #kure karla #kure fusui #kure erio #tokita ohma #kure sarla

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scp230kinnie · 4 months ago

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HIII!!I just saw the goth reader head cannons I was wondering if you go to more (or a fic thing up to you😭) with hunter sylvester?‼️ -anon🕷️

I CLOSED AND FORGOT TO SAVE SO IM REWRITING THIS FOR THE SECOND TIME (kill me😻)

Hunter Sylvester x goth! Reader hcs PART 2!!!!

Once again guys I am not goth though I am alternative, so if I get any information wrong or that should be removed, please comment or dm me and I will correct myself as soon as I can

Also sorry if some of these are the same as the other one I’m not rereading it

He honestly doesn’t care how you dress, but I mean the fact that you’re wearing all black is a major bonus

It honestly depends. Sometimes he'd love it, and other times, it'd give him anxiety. Like, on one hand, it's super cute, and he loves how it looks, but it also makes him *noticeably* nervous, since he's worried that people are staring at "his" person. And yeah, there *is* obviously the chance that they're just wearing it to look cool, but he'd still be a tad paranoid, lol.

He absolutely adores you. He loves seeing you in those long flowy black dresses

I’m pretty sure I wrote this in the last one, but he loves to watch you do your makeup

He does complain about how long you take to get ready though

And if he’s feeling REALLY REALLY NICE (rare) he might (KEYWORD MIGHT) let you do goth makeup on him. Makeup here being used loosely. Trad goth.

Only if you let him do corpse paint on you

Sharing makeup with ur boyfriend LMFAO

The movie is set in Oregon, idk if you’re changing that based on ur head or if ur shifting or something, but that place is full of “normal” people I’d say

So before you started dating, if you were in the same school at least, you were one of the only “alternative” people in school, and he noticed that

This guy doesn’t usually get crushes okay.

He’s married to metal

But he liked your look

You can decide how you guys meet/start dating cause there’s infinite ways

He appreciates your individualism, and that’s a part of why he likes you

He’s definitely called you emo a few times (I’m so sorry)

Teach him somethings about goth culture.

He won’t sit down and let you lecture him, but occasionally if you say some comment about the culture he’ll probably retain that information

He doesn’t really care, but he wants you to be happy, so maybe he’ll do a bit of his own research

He loves concerts, so he will accompany you to goth concerts even if he doesn’t listen to the music

He uses his dads card to buy you clothes and accessories

He will come to thrift stores with you.

He’ll say he thinks it’s stupid

Something about how he wouldn’t wear someone else’s clothes

Just force him to go through t shirts and maybe he’ll find some good band tees (neither metal nor goth but I have found sws and mcr shirts at thrift stores)

Even if he does buy some thrift store band tees, he’ll probably complain about how he could get them new from concerts or online or something

But he’ll buy you whatever you want

Imagine doing that one tiktok trend that’s like “guess whos outfit is whos 😁” and forcing him into some black dress LMFAO

speaking of tiktok, social media, whatever, he doesn’t like posting. He’ll scroll through and look and metal memes or something, but he doesn’t like posting himself and is hesitant to let you post him

But if you do post videos/pictures of him and compliment him and do couples trends, he’ll say it’s embarrassing but he secretly likes it

I imagine him telling someone about you and the other person is like “goth girl *lip bite*” or something thinking you’re like an e girl

First off, he’s a little possessive of you

Second off, (assuming you’ve taught him some stuff about being goth) he yells at them and tells them off and something about how e girls are weird

If you teach him how to take good pictures, he’ll be your personal photographer, especially if he really likes your outfit

If you actually go and ASK him to take pictures of you he’ll complain and tell you to do it yourself but he’ll do it for you anyway because he loves you

If you wear those long boots, (same goes for emos who wear knee high converse) sometimes he’ll untie them, just pull the laces or whatever just to fuck with you

He’ll go to record/cd stores and see one of the bands you like and he’ll buy it for you

He loves you no matter what you look like. I mean maybe not if ur a country person but… for the sake of fiction he loves you

———————————————————

Leave sweet home requests if you’re reading this

Also what piercings do you guys think I should get (I already have septum, navel, industrial, and ears)

#headcanons #fluff #scp230kinnie #tumblr #fanfic #metal lords #hunter sylvester #hunter sylvester x reader #hunter #hunter sylvester headcanons

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sukunasun · 2 years ago

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could we get mma!geto fics

deep sigh...

geto suguru doesn't mind getting up close and personal—but only when it comes to the fighting of course.

says he likes to see the pain and anger simmer in their eyes with every swing he throws, every punch that feels more like a bite. amidst the bloodied knuckles and broken bones, his body, his being becomes a weapon, like there's a beast housed in there. an unstoppable force. nothing holds him down, not an iron cage or the fear of loss, of death. so capable and equipped, not to win but to kill. he picks them apart by their weakest points, precise and powerful, striking where it'll hurt the most and leaving no traces but broken hearts and bruised egos behind.

"he's more than just a fighter," you say, with clenched fists and passion-flamed eyes, "in one word, geto's kinda...legendary," so enthused, so enamoured. it's not your biased heart talking here because you're an expert at these things.

although you wouldn't call yourself a fan when devotee sounds more accurate given the countless hours you've dedicated to research and impulse buying—scrolling through wiki pages, analyzing old interviews, watching late-night matches on a glitchy livestream, catching a tiny glimpse of his figure from a shitty seat in a stadium, or buying an ugly t-shirt from his online store when the one made by a fan artist is cheaper and looks way better in your opinion—still, you'll do it now and again because he isn't like everyone else, he is a perfect being, untouchable, you'll love him from afar like this, settling for whatever bit of scraps you can get hoping to get closer, and yet...

"you don't know me," geto simply says when he's come face-to-face with you. well, technically he's looking down at you from where he stands tall, heads above you. he's every bit as handsome as you'd expect, the kind no injury or scar could hide. you think to say something, gush over him, the man of your dreams in the flesh, a long-awaited meeting now realized but it's all too much.

his sweat-glistened skin, his flushed cheeks, the soft panting breaths, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the way he ever so gently flicks his hair away, not to mention that dripping line of red that seeps from his nostril shouldn't make him look as sexy as he does, something about a bruised and bleeding man practically makes you swoon. oh how you'd always dreamed of this image, your imagination supplied you with multiple scenarios of him atop you and most preferably inside you too.

to be this close to him, so close you could reach out and touch. but a bigger girl always takes the temperature of a room before walking into it, only now you've made the crucial mistake of forgetting where you are, and who exactly could be listening. "um...i didn't mean–" your eyes scan across a sea of judgemental eyes taking you in, contempt written all over their faces. there's a heat pooling in your eyes, a lump caught in your throat, visibly constipated would be the word to describe it, but geto doesn't feel pity for you.

instead, his expression contorts into scorn, rolls his eyes at your desperate attempt to explain when you're choking on your words and flittering around like a headless chicken. he must think you're so awkward, so lame, just another one of those people with nothing better to do with their lives. "you should leave, you're taking up space," he says, pushing past you with a shove like you were merely a nuisance to him, your shoulder bumping into his torso. but it doesn't hurt honestly, not as much as the disappointment, the humiliation he's left you with.

——————————————————

back home, you dismantle the shrine. an altar made with the labour of love, and many long nights spent crafting this holy site. suguru is a name you can't look at the same way, now riddled with sour definitions. mean, rude, arrogant, and all the synonyms bundled into one. suddenly, the pictures on your wall stare back at you differently, geto and his camera-ready poses, in designer pieces, perfectly curved happy smiles and sultry smirks turning against you. "he brushed me off like i was nobody, like i was nothing," you sniffle.

with shaky hands, you tear them down hastily, omitting to start from the corners or to roll them back into tube containers. making it quick so it'll hurt less, like tearing a bandaid off. "psh, taking up space..." you shake your head in disbelief, "what a fucking asshole."

stuffing the bins with crumpled magazines and the journal entries you were enthusiastic about, another collage you've put together, the pencil writings have faded, laser stickers peeled from the edges. however, the binders and photo cards have been kept well, pristine even, and you consider if there are notes and letters you wrote to him tucked into the spine, believing you'd send them someday, but you refuse to keep them.

flipping through, you can't help but cringe at the thought of a man being this famous as an athlete. you understand sponsorships and brand deals, but turning into a celebrity, a commodity...maybe it was an act all along, a persona he's crafted. there was no underestimating the man's capabilities, the ease and precision with which he strikes a punch or spews cutting words are unmatched, why would it be different when it came to your first meeting.

"you've idolized him, it was a parasocial relationship at most..." you say. given the circumstances or the 'end of an era,' as you've put it, there'd be no other way to comfort yourself but with the hard truth.

and it shouldn't feel this...hollow. an empty space left behind without any notice, like it ended too abruptly. you'd always known the phase would come to a close, but you had pictured meeting him at the end of an aisle, twirling in his arms under heavy rain, or a bittersweet goodbye at an airport maybe. anything resembling a whirlwind romance that would replace the daydreaming. anything but this.

people meet all the time, people fall in love, was it too much to believe you'd be one of them. and you tell yourself you'll get over him, it wasn't meant to be anyway, what did you expect, that he'd see you and fall in love? you wouldn't know any different, the closest you ever got to love was...obsession really, he was never a real person to you. "all this for a man who never knew i existed." you're sure wherever suguru is, he'd be absolutely fine, happy even, and not the least bit gutted about what he'd done.

——————————————————

the rest of geto's day plays out like usual—he fights, he wins, then tends to the nosebleed. nowhere in those allocated time slots for cryotherapy and post-match interviews does he think about you. or the way your eyes fell. or that he instantly regretted it the moment he left you standing there.

across the gym, nanako calls from where she sits on a boxing ring, "that wasn't nice, papa!" perching her head against ropes, her legs swing off the edge. beside her, mimiko nods in agreement, cuddling her dolly closer to her chest, "you were being mean..." she mumbles. the sandbag crushes and swings to the rhythmic, muffled beats of bandaged fists meeting leather. resounding, familiar, enough to tune out the disappointed tone in their voices.

his punches come to a halt, "i know," he sighs exasperatedly. pressing his forehead to the sleeve and watching the sweat pool by his feet. drip, drip, he takes a deep breath in. willing himself to think of something else, anything that could ease the tightness in his chest, the grinding of his teeth. the guilt that bubbles up becomes unbearable, itchy and prickling all over his skin. heat creeping up his neck, to his ears, he's embarrassed, ashamed. he should know better, he'd been better. a part of him grieves, long gone were the days of geto suguru and his straight As and pressed uniforms, always thanking the teachers and using honorifics in between.

geto learns that he doesn’t react to it as smoothly as he would like—your wobbling lips and puffed up cheeks, teary eyes shining, lashes clumping with tears, an expression he can't seem to forget, like your world was crumbling before your very eyes—he knew it was wrong, knew you were vulnerable and he did it anyway.

when was the last time he got this hung up over a couple of badly chosen words, all for some fangirl? you've got him giving away easy hits and fucking up his game-plan, ruminating. he's supposed to be training, working on his form, looking up the next guy he's meant to beat to a pulp and analyze his moves, all that and eating these tiny meals he abhors, the ones made up of bland chicken breast and broccoli.

bottom line, he's meant to brush these things off as he always does. but the urge to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness is almost as strong as the urge to punch something. he only settles for the latter because geto never gets on his knees, and he never begs, the thought alone is enough to send a shiver down his spine, why does he even think of it as an option.

"she got to me didn't she?" is less of a question, and more of an admission but the twins giggle as if they know he's already done for.

——————————————————

geto sits across from you at a crepe place a week later. famous for its strawberry sauce and the whipped cream they make from scratch, it's a good choice for a first date spot. the tables are covered in red and white checkered linen, there's an upbeat pop tune playing in the background, and sitting right between the two of you is a centerpiece made up of fresh daffodils.

but this isn't a date. there's nothing romantic or intimate about it and how he's even managed to find you is still a mystery let alone what his intentions are with choosing such a scene. "my daughters like this place," is the only explanation you get.

he's wearing what can only be described as undercover chic. greeted you by the door dressed in black head to toe. along with sunglasses and a face mask, but the earrings give him away. well, that along with the cut on his lip and the stitches over his eyebrow. "you got my letter," he merely states, without a 'hello' or 'thanks for meeting me on such short notice'. he doesn't mention why he's sent actual mail to your office instead of texting or calling like a normal person—how easy it was for you to recognize those familiar black inky lines scribing a time and place on paper with zoo animals decorating the edges—you might have ignored it, reported it, if not for the part of you that wholeheartedly gives into him, the infatuation still hasn't worn off.

"so um," clearing his throat and keeping his voice low, geto's arms fold across his chest. it makes him look too big for his seat, bulky and broad, "about what happened the other day—" he chokes out.

"it's fine," you cut him off immediately. the last thing you need right now is to be reminded of it. took forever to wash away the embarrassment, to scrub off the eerie feeling of his dismissive gaze, his cold stare, a shining vaseline-lined face that would forever haunt you the rest of your days. "i don't even remember it," you wait for him to continue but he just..sits there.

head tilting curiously, suddenly interested. "not even the part about me being...what was it you said...legendary?" he teases, laughing to himself. it sounds lovely, bright and clear. almost so good you think he's rehearsed it but you know it's just another one of those things geto does, that adds to his charm.

your cheeks puff up as you chew, the jam is sweet and so are the little slices of fruit. you munch and chew, growing annoyed by the second, "it's not that funny," you mumble.

geto brushes off your offended expression, "relax, it's nothing i haven't heard before, let me guess—you love me, you're my number one fan, and you want to ride me and have my babies," he lifts an eyebrow, a self-satisfied smirk appearing.

your fist clenches tight around your fork, "y-you don't know that for sure, in fact, you don't know me at all."

geto scoffs, actually scoffs in your face, "i know what you're like, you're just another groupie who wants to get close."

"groupie?!" you exclaim, "as if i'd ever sleep with you after the way you've treated me—" your nose turns up at him, anger flaring up to the max, "i wouldn't want to be chucked around and felt up anyway, besides, you wouldn't be able to," you lie again, throwing the final jab to his overinflated ego for effect, to put him in his place. now emboldened by fury, by the urge to prove him wrong.

you're so loud the other customers turn their heads, somewhere in the back a plate drops to the floor, the shock is evident. mainly because of how explicit you're being but....anyone would be crazy to think so. to say such a thing. how blasphemous. suguru is so physically strong that he forgets not everyone can split wooden blocks into halves with their bare hands like it were the easiest thing, hooking sandbags up to a rig with one arm, you've seen him breaking doors down with a mere shove in movies, and how could you ever forget that one picture of him holding two litre water bottles in his hand and having it look so out of proportion, dwarfed by their massive size.

there's no doubt about it, not only could geto lift and toss you around like a ragdoll, feeling you up any way he desires, but it would be effortless.

he starts grinning, "is that a challenge?" geto quips, smirking and suddenly interested in the half-eaten crepe. he gives it a once over, lightly jabbing it with his fork. contemplates if he should try it when he's been off sugar for years but maybe he'll make an exception now. he could always just burn the calories later, maybe do an extra sparring session with gojo over the weekend, but just for the occasion, he thinks he could indulge a little because he makes a decision then.

"i like you, we should do this more often," he shoots you a look that isn't like the rest. assured, demanding, knowing you wouldn't deny him. "any objections?" leaning forward he cuts himself a piece of the pastry, lapping up every last bit of jam before he stabs at a large chunk of berry. taking a big bite of it, your eyes widen at the instant blush blooming on his cheeks because he more than likes it, in fact, he keeps at it til there's none left.

#wanted to make this one a slow burn ...#mma geto is the ice cream i have a lock on ... precious!#let me know if you wanna read more mma geto!#ask #anon #sunpiece #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #geto suguru #geto suguru hcs #geto x reader #mma geto #mma au #chubby reader #geto x chubby reader #jjk chubby reader fic

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twicesserafim · 1 year ago

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desperatly need a campus crush nwjns gip!minji! AKCKCKCKCKCK

G!p Minji

Smut heavy‼️

Not proofread

Third Person Pov:

Minji was a year above you, you've seen each other around, on campus, in the hallways, in between classes. You've ran into each other a few times. Haerin and Danielle were luckily your friends.

Well, not really close friends. But you knew each other, they were in your music class. "Minji's really been liking these shoes but she can't find any in her size" "what shoes?" you asked confused as the pointed to yours.

"what's her size?" "230 (6.5)" "oh, we're the same size" "really?" "yeah" "where'd you get yours?" "online, on this app. I don't think theres anymore though" "aw, that's unfortunate. what're they called again?"

"jordan 4 retro sail i think?" "oh? is it new?" "yeah, came out, end of september 2023." "ooh, so they're like, really new." "yeahh, i can help her find it, maybe i can" "thanks, y/n." "i got you"

"oh also! what to you think of minjiii" "what do you mean?" "is she cute? pretty? what do you think of her?" "uh, i mean yeah. She's pretty and she's cute too, she's attractive." "really? you think that?" "yeah"

"would you say you like her?" "im not sure." That's a lie. you find her so attractive that you want to bash your head on a wall. You have the biggest crush on her. "hm.. that's interesting.. would you be down to go to lunch with us?"

"uh, sure. i don't think i made plans today" "okay, bells gonna ring in a few, pack your bags." "i never take anything out of my bags" "true that"

...

Hanni, danielle, haerin and hyein all pushed you and minji in the middle, making the two of you stand beside each other. "is it too crowded, we can walk behind them?" "sure" you agreed as the two of you backed up, the four of them walking in the front as the two of you walked in the back.

"how was class, y/n?" "it was fine, kinda boring. I was sleepy" "i always sleep in my classes.. nice shoes." "thanks" you muttered, looking down. Hoping you could find something for her too.

"so uh.. the stores over there, just a few more minutes" "yeah, i know, it's all good" you replied, turning to face her. You were about the same height. You were maybe an inch shorter? Similar height though.

The others ordered, you passed some money to hanni, she smiled and went to the counter. "y/n what do you want?" "anything, it doesn't matter." "okay"

You and Minji just sat there, the two of you sitting beside each other. "so.." "how's badminton?" Right. You're on the badminton team. "it's okay, it's like really hard at times." "really?" "i'm good at saving, i'm not great at spiking though"

"oh, that's important" "it is.. it's hot" you whined, you took the hoodie off as minji's breath hitched; Both at your whine and you taking your hoodie off. She gulped, taking a breath in. You were in a compression shirt so it showed off your body pretty well.

The cargo pants honestly showed off your lower body pretty well too, the thought made her nervous as she got fidgety and slightly sweaty. She doesn't usually think of these things, why was this happening?

Your hand brushed on her thigh before you placed a hand on her back. "are you okay?" "um.. yeah i'm.. ahem, i'm okay." "are you sure?"

...

Minji Pov:

Fuck. I'm hard. I'm fucking hard. That's so pathetic, fuck! why am i hard! im just gonna have to walk around school with a boner?! Fuck my life, oh my god. It's gonna fucking stick up! I'm literally going to end it all.

Bro why did i get hard?! Fuck my life. Fuck everything. Y/n's right beside me too. I have the biggest crush on her. She's so perfect. Fuck! stop thinking about her! i'm actually gonna burst through my boxers. This is so scary.

"minji?" The way she says my name. Imagine if she was screaming it though.. oh my god. "yes?" "are you sure you're okay? you've been staring at the table for a few minutes? the food is here, eat, okay?" "yeah.."

I cant focus. Im going to the washroom. "i gotta go to the washroom, i'll be back." I need to finish my business quickly.

...

Third Person Pov:

You saw it. You noticed it a while ago, a few minutes after Minji had left for the washroom, you spoke up. "i'll go check up on her" "go ahead" the washroom door could lock. You knew that.

As soon as you came in, you locked the door, "minji" you muttered, "huh? what's wrong?" "let me help" "what do you mean?" "don't act all clueless. do you want me to help or not?" "we need to be quick" "i know that. now open the stall up."

She did as your eyes widened at her size, her hand was still wrapped around it. "are you close yet?" "no. for some reason i can't seem to get the job done" "well i hope i can.. the floors dirty" you whined as minji rolled her eyes with a smile.

She threw her jacket on the floor and you closed the stall, kneeling down in front of her. Kissing the tip and pulling it out of her hand, into yours. "oh my god." she whined as you put the tip into your mouth. "i haven't even done anything yet"

"come on then." you took more of her in, minji groaned as she let out a shaky breath, taking her clean hand and gripping onto your hair as you started going at it, you bobbed your head up and down, gagging on her and just taking more and more of her in.

"fucking shit y/n.." she sighed, whining a bit. she pushed your head closer as her balls touched your chin, you hummed, sucking on her, drooling a bit and gagging. "too big, darling?" you nodded as she chuckled.

Fuck was that hot. Minji thrusted into your mouth a few times making you gag. "are you ready for it?" you nodded. "come on, baby. tell me. you want my cum down your throat?" "yes.. please" "as you wish, sweetheart."

She groaned, gripping onto you tighter as she let out a whine, cumming into your throat as you swallowed all of her, you pulled away making minji chuckle. "fuck you're so hot" she muttered making you shrug.

"you're hotter" "hey.. wanna come over to my dorm tonight? my roommates on a trip.." you just smiled and nodded. "i'll give you more of me this time" you muttered, cleaning up yourself and walking out making minji smile to herself.

"damn."

...

"hey" you said as she let you into the dorm. "hi baby" "i like you, you know that?" "straightforward. i like that." "thought you would" "i like you too" "so.." "my rooms right there" "great"

...

Your face was in a pillow as you let out a loud moan. "fuck! it's big" "relax, princess. i've got you." "minji.." you whined, your breathing shaky as she pulled you up, making you face her while straddling her.

She slipped the tip back into you, "slowly, baby." you slowly sat down on her, the two of you groaned. "come on, hun. once you get used to it.. that's when it gets fun" "whatever you say.."

...

You let out small moans before whines left your lips. "fuck.. i'm gonna cum.. minji.." "hm.." "please." "what are you supposed to call but you don't?" "unnie" you whined making her chuckle. "good, go ahead."

"do you have protection on?" "no.." "minji" you whined, she pulled out, "open up then" you opened your mouth as she pumped her hands up and down a few times, before shooting her load straight into your mouth.

"you're so pretty" minji muttered making you roll your eyes with a smile. "yeah, with your cum all over my face?" "exactly."

...

"if i'm your girlfriend.. do you think i could steal your shoes then?" "min" you chuckled, rolling your eyes. "are you sure you love me then?" "nah, i just like your shoes" "meanie!" "kidding, baby!"

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