#accidentally made the chapter really long

[wearysparrows]

I (Almost) Shot You Down

Summary: A chance encounter with Sylus snowballs something much larger, and you're pushed even deeper into the depths of his world -- whether you like it or not.

Chapter 1: A pillar of Salt

After being forced on leave from the Hunter's Association, you try to find respite outside of the safety of your apartment. By chance, you see Sylus engaged with someone else. You nearly take his head for it -- but he gets his way, in the end.

CW (18+): Sylus/reader, no use of ' Y/N,' Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Guns, MC is chronically depressed and exhausted, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Gambling, Reader is MC, AFAB reader is implied but no pronouns are used

A/N: This is my long, ongoing work that is still being updated. There are many more chapters up on ao3, and I'm working on getting them to tumblr. They're also being edited and improved from their original postings, so if you've read it before, there may be some changes as I upload!

You had finally begrudgingly accepted a few days off from your work with the Hunter’s Association, at the behest of your primary care physician (citing your declining physical health), your boss (citing your declining work performance), and your work partner (citing your declining mental health). The aforementioned meddlers had teamed up in an effort to finally tear you away from hunting, and would not allow you to return, despite your valiant attempts at protest. Work was your escape – from yourself, from the reality of your life, from your relationships – and everything in between. Hunting never changed, and you only got better at it. 

Your blatant disregard for yourself had failed to continue to go unnoticed by those who cared about you, though. Now, here you were, sitting in your empty apartment with only the all encompassing silence to keep you company. Left alone with your thoughts. Again. You hadn’t bothered to kick the lights on. Only the sound of the heater clicking filled the otherwise empty air around you. Your mind went where it always did, then. That day. No bodies were ever recovered. You didn’t even have something to bury. Caleb’s dog tags had found their way into your hands at some point, and you gazed at them listlessly in your palm. You could still feel the heat from the residual fires of the explosion radiating off of the metal. The warmth of his hand in yours. It was all you had left to prove he ever really existed.

You desperately needed to get out of the house. Anything was better than being here, and perhaps you would accidentally run into some wanderers while the ghost of you made its way about Linkon city. Throwing yourself at hordes of wanderers was the only coping mechanism that had shown any signs of taking your mind off of things. Sort of. With this scheme in mind, you quickly dressed yourself in your usual, strapping your gun to your thigh, concealing its comforting weight under your coat. It wasn’t like you were on forced bedrest, so a walk wouldn’t hurt, right? You stashed Caleb’s tags in your nightstand drawer, returning them to their safe place. You imagined that someday, they’d burn a hole in that wood, and you’d come back to nothing at all.

You left your apartment with no particular aim in mind, being sure to lock the door behind you. The biometric lock shifted into place with a soft whirr behind you. You may have been utterly exhausted, but you were never complacent. The weather outside wasn’t ideal for a walk, and the wind buffeted your hair about your face, and bit at your skin, as if you were offending it with your mere presence outside. Your eyes watered, protesting the assaults by the air. You opted to ignore these sensations, and continued to walk in what you thought was the direction of the nearby shopping district. Your appetite had long since left you – months ago now – but you knew you could find a small measure of pleasure in a cup of coffee on a day like today. 

After many twists and turns, your weary feet led you to an area you weren’t wholly familiar with. Maybe it was new? This was more upscale than your usual, you realized – your Hunter’s salary was decent enough, but definitely not this decent. Cobblestone that looked suspiciously new made the click of your boot-heels echo loudly off of your surroundings. You scrutinized the buildings before you, searching for somewhere that your presence would not offend, where you could also acquire what you were after. Everything was just a touch too upscale, too unwelcoming. All of the storefronts blurred into one image, one place where you weren’t welcomed. You chased thoughts from that same morning out of your mind that threatened to break through as you were forced into a moment of mental silence, and the still of the air and the lack of bustle kept returning you to reality. The last place you wanted to be. 

After a time of aimless searching, you spied a place that looked acceptable. It was smaller than the other establishments, tucked away conservatively into an alley, lit by warm sconces along either side. Unlike the other buildings, it was painted in a warm, sandy beige. You couldn't tell much else about it from the outside, other than that the interior was dimly lit. The imagery of the cup of coffee on the signage was enough to guide your way. You pulled open the heavy glass door, and half expected it to be partially empty on the inside, but you had no such luck. It was bustling, but warm as a result, and you realized how cold you had been before you had stepped in. The change in temperature almost immediately made you feel too hot in your coat.

The patronage was definitely outside of your tax bracket. The patronage was clad in an array of expensive looking furs and fabrics, all speaking to each other in the lowest of dulcet tones. You felt their eyes on you, but disregarded them. It wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to be here, regardless of how out of place you may have looked. Which, you thought, wasn’t that much. You might not have been born into high snob-society, but you took good care of your looks. Your fingers were still moving slowly in protest to the inclement weather as you fished your wallet from your coat pocket, stepping towards the counter with the intention to order. You hardly glanced at the menu. You didn’t even have a drink in mind. Just something as a distraction. Liquid, hot enough to burn your tongue. A sensation to chase the thoughts away.

This course of action was quickly interrupted, however. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of a shock of white hair on someone who seemed to tower over the rest of the people in the room, even while sitting. Clad in blacks and velvet reds, he both fit in perfectly and stood out starkly all at once. He was talking to someone else you couldn't see in a hushed tone.

Sylus?

Surely not. Why would he even be here, of all places? Sure, it was nice, but not places-Sylus-frequented nice. Or at least, the places you imagined he frequented. You still didn’t have a full idea of all of the things Sylus did with his free time. Short of that, what was he doing cavorting about in Linkon in public? Your eyes bored holes into the back of his head, trying to catch wind of what could have possibly brought him to a place like this. You side stepped into a corner table that allowed you to get a better look at who he was speaking with.

A woman?

This clearly wasn’t just any woman, either. A cascade of elaborately curled blonde hair fell down her back in elegant waves, and a deep red dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining her perfectly against Sylus’s dark form. A small nose, and full lips. Long, dark lashes. She was saying something to him, but you couldn’t make out the words in the den of the conversations from the other patrons. He laughed in response to her words, and leaned closer to her. She was smiling at him, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Her other hand touched his shoulder.

Stones stacked neatly in your stomach as you watched them. You felt like a voyeur. They looked exquisite together – it was undeniable. She was even wearing the perfect color of red. It looked as if she had exsanguinated someone and dyed the dress in their blood – a perfect match for Sylus. Everything else �� everyone –  in the room paled in comparison. Sylus was still smiling at her, full of charm. You thought about what Zayne had said to you before forcing you to take time off. 

You look like you’re two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Well, his observation was more astute than he realized, clearly. You certainly felt that way now, in light of the spectacle that was playing out before you. Maybe only one step away. Half a step. You told yourself this was none of your business, that you should just quietly take your leave before he noticed you had ever been here. There was no reason for him to take notice of you while he was attending to his private matters. You were just passing through his life. Brushing through his fingertips. Never actually touching him in any way that mattered. Physically, mentally, spiritually. 

You decided you needed to leave. Urgently. Despite telling yourself staring down the couple wasn’t bothering you because there was nothing between you and Sylus anyway and what the hell was your problem, you had begun to feel nauseated. You clutched your arm about your midsection, and hurriedly peeled yourself out of your seat. Every one of your muscles protested at the movement, reminding you that you should be at home right now. On forced bedrest, probably. 

That just wasn’t in the cards. You weren’t sure you had a hand to play at all. You silently cursed the great dealer in the sky.

You made a beeline for the door, but not before you took one final glance at Sylus and his companion. Even if you were to turn into a pillar of salt for looking back, you just needed one more glimpse. To satiate your curiosity. But luck wasn’t on your side (when was it ever?), because you met Sylus’s eye as you looked, as well as those of the beautiful woman. You saw surprise pass over his features, and thought you saw his lips part as if he were going to say something. The woman peered back at you curiously. You cast your eyes away from the bewitching image before you. 

You could feel all the water being sucked from each of the cells in your body, one by one. You would shrivel up on the spot, and leave behind only the base impression of yourself in the wake of your shame. Hopefully, your rotten yearning soul would be freed to roam elsewhere, far from here, in this place you didn’t belong.

Ah, take me, O salt pillar!

There were no such mercies in this life, of course. You left the cafe as quickly as your feet would allow. The glass door slammed behind you. You were running now, for reasons you couldn’t (didn’t want to) quantify. It wasn’t as if he was chasing after you, coming to explain that no, she’s just a friend, just someone I work with, don't worry.  Faster you went, the need to see the comforting outline of your apartment against the sky becoming more desperate by the moment. Fortunately, the run home was certainly shorter than the walk to the cafe, and the image you so desired to see appeared before you, blessedly. 

Only then did you allow yourself a moment to rest. Your lungs screamed in protest at your outburst, and you sucked in great mouthfuls of air, trying to forcibly still your rapidly beating heart. It was always betraying you in one way or another, even now. You bent over, your hands on your knees, and took a moment to collect yourself. You were grateful no one had been around to see this display, from you leaving your apartment, to running away from a damn coffee shop empty-handed. You curled a fist in your hair, willing it out of your face as you righted yourself. A few stray strands came away in your fingers. That had been happening more and more often, as of late.

The walk up the stairs was nothing else if not excruciating, and you thanked even your unluckiest stars that Xaiver didn’t seem to be home from work yet to see the unfortunate events of your life play out as they were. You stumbled into your apartment – being sure to lock the door behind you, as always. 

The safety of your home did good work to soothe your nerves, a stark contrast to the horrid occurrence in the cafe. You shrugged into something more comfortable: a camisole and a pair of soft, cotton pajama shorts. This set had yet to let you down in the comfort department. Even as you changed, the events played over and over through your mind, and you burned with the embarrassment of it all. Sylus’s smile at that woman, his laughter. The way his gaze had twisted into something else entirely when he saw you. Your nausea refused to calm. Your mouth kept filling with too much saliva, over and over.

Why did you have to run away, of all things? You had left like a petulant child who was unable to cope with the sight before them, instead retreating to your small corner of safety in the world. 

Wry thoughts came to you. This is what I get for taking a day off. You knew you had been wrong to do so. Your prophecy was always fulfilling itself. Take that, Dr. Zayne. 

Still, you were yet unwilling to heed the siren’s call of your bed, despite the increasing intensity of its song. You flopped onto the couch instead with a sigh, the air entering and leaving your lungs easier now. You longed to be rid of the image of Sylus entangled with someone else, and decided you needed to busy your hands with something to scrub the thoughts from your mind. 

As a result of not taking nearly any days off lately, you were definitely behind on the maintenance of your weapons. It technically wasn’t work. It was only related to work. You bent over from your position on the couch, and peered underneath it. Here was where your smallest gun safe lived. Perhaps not the most ideal place for it – but it wasn’t as if you had company over often, anyway. Save for Xavier, your steady and ever-reliable partner. And more recently, Sylus, who you hadn’t yet found an accurate definition for. His presence was usually accentuated by some excuse to intrude on your space.

You unlocked the safe. It was an old-school version, not biometric like the newer models. Pure, vintage analog goodness. A gift from Grandma when you had entered the Hunter’s Association. It came open with a soft, satisfying click. Only two weapons were usually inside – your Hunter’s issue handgun, old faithful. You returned it to its rightful place, now, as it had dutifully attended the cafe fiasco with you. With it was a piece that had forced itself into your possession – or rather, Sylus had forced it into your possession. You eyed the offending object, picking it up gingerly and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. It was considerably heavier than your standard issue. It had thunked onto the glass of the table, as if it were moderately offended to be there. Did even his gifts take on aspects of his personality? His influence seemed to know no bounds, so nothing would surprise you at this point. He certainly had a penchant for creating objects with personalities, if Mephisto was any measure.

This gun wasn’t the only firearm Sylus had thrust upon you. A gift, he had said. You weren’t wholly unconvinced he wasn’t using your house as his millionth-whatever-armory. You had accrued so many weapons that you had to acquire a secondary safe, the hulking mass of which sat in your bedroom forebodingly. It held all of the other “gifts” inside, tucked safely away in the darkness, waiting to be used for their dark purpose. You hid it underneath a spare sheet. The second safe was another gift from Sylus. It reminded you of him, in a way – it imposed its presence in your house: tall, cold, stark, and white. It didn’t fit here at all. And it was full of things meant to rend flesh from flesh, flesh from bone. Life from this plane into the next. You thought about the first time you met Sylus, and how he had obliterated a man from existence before your eyes with his evol. There hadn’t been so much as an ounce of recognition in his eyes for the life he had taken. The memory made your nausea threaten to return to you.

Your eyes came back into focus on the gun in front of you. You liked guns, and as much as you hated to admit it, this one was no exception. It was a beautiful article – a faithful reproduction of a vintage Colt 1911.  A classic, by anyone’s measure. It was a forty-five caliber, with an eight-plus-one round capacity. The recoil of your Hunter’s association issue paled into comparison to this, and it affected your accuracy negatively. You had recently replaced its bullets – standard full metal jackets – with hollow point rounds. Higher accuracy, higher damage. You planned to test this on the next Wanderer who was unlucky enough to be at the other end of your barrel. Or the next man. Those had only recently come into your sights, as a result of your exploits – at the request of Sylus. He had never actually asked you to gun a living person down, though. You weren’t sure you were even capable of doing so. Or if he would ask. 

The wood grip was custom engraved with your name, and encrusted with jewels, courtesy of him. Naturally. The body was scrubbed of any serial number. Naturally.

Ugh. 

You placed it on your knees, with the intention to take it apart to clean and maintain it. You intended to add a suppressor, which you had purchased with your own money. Not a gift from Sylus. Small victories.

Just as you began to take the weapon apart, you caught a sound. There was a sort of shuffling at your door, as if someone were standing behind it. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, prickling. Your intuition told you that whatever was behind it was something to be feared. You loaded the spare magazine of hollow points into the piece with a soft click. You flicked the safety off. Your hands had already begun to sweat.

You pointed the gun at the door. It was too heavy in your hands. 

Whoever was behind the door was making quick work of the lock, despite it necessitating your biometric data to unlatch. 

What if it was the same people who had taken the lives of Caleb and Gran? Had they finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse, and come for you?

You held your breath to steady yourself. The extension of Sylus’s violence wavered back and forth in your grip. The door came open at a painfully slow pace, and a large figure in black slipped through. You cocked back the hammer, which had previously given you difficulty. Now adrenaline bolstered even the strength in your fingertips, any previous weakness forgotten. The figure turned, closing the door behind him. Upon seeing you on your makeshift gunner’s perch on the back of the couch, he raised his hands in surrender, showing you the calloused tan of his palms. One of his hands was nearly the size of your head.

“Sylus?”

His eyebrows had initially shot up in surprise at your current posture, but he quickly relaxed his face into that of his usual mask of easy confidence. You hated that about him, his composure. You adored it, too. He couldn’t even bother to look afraid at the end of a gun. The gun he gave you. You exhaled the breath you had been holding through your nose.

“Expecting someone else?” 

He sounded pleased, of all things. You suddenly felt very exposed, in nothing but your camisole and shorts. Despite the gun in your hands, it was as if you were at the other end of his. Your head felt hot. Your forearms began to protest at the weight of the weapon. You blinked new wetness into dry eyes. 

“Why the fuck are you breaking into my house?” 

You didn’t lower the gun. You didn’t want to.  It wasn’t as if it was the first time you two had ended up like this. You, trying to kill him. Him, accepting your choice. Probably not the last, either. You were angry with him – not for breaking in, no. Not for his casual nonchalance in the face of death (could he even die?), not for his disregard for your poweress as an opponent. But for his date with someone else. Someone who was decidedly not you. The feeling bubbled up, stronger and stronger until it was burning you from the inside out. Shame accompanied it, hand in hand.

Of course, you had no real justification for this feeling. You and Sylus weren’t dating, as you needed to remind yourself more and more frequently. You weren’t even sure you could call your relationship friendly – it was somewhere in the bizarre stage of you wanting him, and him accepting your every move with grace. He took you for all you were in stride, met you for all your whims, and you trailed after his every word. You had something he wanted – what it was, you were never quite sure. It changed with his tides. You couldn’t pry it from him. Questions were only answered with more questions, so you had given up on asking them. Sylus’s response to your question cut through your thoughts. His voice was soft, imporing. 

“You didn’t answer my texts or calls. I was knocking for a while, too, but there was no answer. With the way you left, I came to make sure.” 

Make sure of what?

You hadn’t heard any knocking. You also hadn’t checked your phone.

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and they came in a slow, steady stream into your consciousness. You thought about the first time you had shot him. How his blood erupted from his chest in hot streams. It stained your hands as you tried desperately to stop his bleeding, pressing against the pulse of the open wound. When you thought you had taken his life. When he had pressed the trigger for you. When he didn’t die. The heat of him was still there, under your palms. It wouldn’t wash off. He was under your skin.

“I’m glad you like the gift, by the way.”

He took a step towards you as he spoke. You adjusted your grip. He was still in your sights. Your breath came quick, your mouth dry. You licked your lips, cracked from worrying your teeth on them so often lately. You thought about the woman and Sylus. Together. The red dress. Sylus’s blood. His laugh, for someone else. Not you.

“You’re welcome to take my life again,” he murmured soothingly, “But it might disturb the neighbors. Particularly the one downstairs. Of course, I’m willing to help you deal with the aftermath. Either way.” 

He still had his hands raised in submission. The image of it was practically ridiculous. This wasn’t a posture that Sylus took up under any other circumstance. You knew it was all a show for your benefit, and that you were no match for him, despite your own prowess. Something about his unrelenting acceptance of his own death at your hands (again) dragged you out of your stupor by your achilles heel. You lowered the gun. Sylus took the opportunity to stride forward, and quickly slipped it from your hands with his own. You let him. His touch lingered just a moment too long, fingers pressed to yours. He was warm. Too warm for someone who had just been out in the cold. You resisted the urge to take his hand. His evol materialized, and quickly turned the safety on, ejecting the magazine. It returned the gun to the safe, shutting it away as if it had never happened. The red cloud disappeared as quickly as it came, as if it never were at all. The process took no more than a few seconds of silence between the two of you.

“You were going to modify it?” He asked, nonchalant. As if you hadn’t just been almost making an attempt on his life. He glanced at the suppressor, now cold and lonely on the coffee table.

“Yeah. I was going to...add a suppressor.”

You could hear the flat affect in your voice. It reflected how drained you were beginning to feel by all of this, on top of everything else. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it.

What the fuck was this conversation, actually? 

Sylus nodded, still managing to look pleased with the situation. You felt your life force actively draining from you as the seconds ticked by, as if you were the one who had almost been shot. His gaze shackled you in place, still. The sterling of his hair and the garnet of his eyes were just as enticing as ever. Radically out of place in your modest apartment. 

“Can I help you down?”

His soft inquiry brought to your attention that you were still perched with one foot up on the back of the couch, poised to kill him. Your hands were now very much without the gun. Nothing connected you to the world below you concretely, anymore. Except him. He was standing before you with an offered hand. At some point during your conversation, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing the rippling capability of the muscle of his forearms. It enticed you without voice. You took his outstretched hand, wordlessly. To your surprise, he pulled you over the back of the couch and towards him, catching you like you were nothing, his free hand supporting your waist. You landed softly on your feet in front of him, still in his arms, hand in his own. For a moment, the posture reminded you of how you had danced with him at the auction. You looked up at him, he down at you. His expression was inscrutable, save for a little smile. You were close enough to see the soft sweep of his eyelashes. The circles under his eyes. Proud nose and soft lips. You pulled away, hugging your arms to yourself. It was much colder for his lack of touch. His hands hovered at the place where he had held for a moment, and then fell back to his sides.

“What has you so wound up? I tried to call out to you this morning, but you bolted before I could greet you.” 

Sylus had his head cocked at you now, as if the answer you had for him was something very simple. He adjusted one of his sleeve garters. You averted your gaze, studying a now very interesting speck of dust on your floor. You wanted to put all of this behind you, to forget it had ever happened. You would have never brought it up had he never shown his face. But he had to be here, asking questions. Making you lie to him even more than you already did. You had never been a liar until you spent time with him. You tried to keep your tone level as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.” 

Even saying it made your insides crawl. You spat the last word out with more venom that you had intended. Your lower intestine was trying to creep up to your diaphragm, and seemed to be succeeding. Sylus raised an eyebrow in your direction.

“Date?”

 He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement made his biceps all the more prominent. He sounded puzzled, and was scrutinizing you, now. You couldn’t comprehend what was so hard to understand about all of this. You sighed, despite your best attempts to keep your emotions from bleeding through your cracks.

“Yes, date. What would you have me do? Come up and introduce myself while you’re clearly in the middle of something?”

You were aware you were completely out of line here. None of this was any of your concern in the first place. You had stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Sylus had, quite literally, no obligation to you whatsoever. Certainly not to explain himself, or who he chose to spend his time with. You wanted to shrink and disappear into the floorboards. Perhaps you could seep through the cracks like smoke, and escape this confrontation all together. But you didn’t have that kind of power – unless Sylus was with you, holding you in his arms.

He had been quiet for a time. He started again.

“The woman I was with today is one of my contacts in Linkon. She helps me smuggle things in and out when I can’t attend to them personally. I’ve been working on...procuring something. For you.” He cleared his throat a little, as if he had just told you an embarrassing secret. 

You gawked at him. He was still smiling at you. His eyes met yours. Seeing everything you didn’t want him to see. He didn’t even need to use the protocore in his right eye. It was all bared to him, regardless.

“And yes,” he continued,

“I would have been very pleased to introduce you. You only let me show you off every so often – I wanted to seize the opportunity by the horns.”

There were too many things you didn’t understand. How he could move about Linkon so nonchalantly. How he could be having conversations about smuggling in an upscale Linkon cafe. How the man before you, who gained all of his income from untold numbers of criminal activities, was the same who willingly spent his free time with you playing Kitty Cards and screwing around in the arcade. It was too much. You turned from him, and instead returned to the safety of the couch. You sat on it, grounding yourself with the feeling of your own belongings. You heard him follow after you. His shoes were still on, but you didn’t have the heart to scold him for his disregard for your floor's cleanliness.  He sat next to you. The couch sunk under his greater weight, and caused you to slip a little closer to him on the furniture. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sylus.”

It was all you could say. Better to keep the respectable distance between you just as it was. Any further and you wouldn't be able to keep up this facade around him anymore. He kept pulling at your threads, trying to reveal your insides. 

“No one owes anyone anything. But I wanted to tell you. Besides,” you felt his evol touch your hand, ever so gently. It was as if he was holding it without actually holding it. The little red extension of himself curled around your fingers playfully. You remembered how it had choked and shackled you in the past. Now it sat in your lap like a beloved pet, curling about your knees and fingertips. It’s usual crackling intensity was gone, now only a light, pleasant buzz against your skin. You focused on the sensation. It was warm, like him.

"Here I was, excited to think that you were going to shoot me because you thought you saw me out with someone else. I’m a little disappointed that wasn’t the reason.”

He was chuckling, like what just occurred had amused him. Something to spice up the usual banal repetition of his everyday life. You felt yourself deflating. There was no more hot air left inside – just the residual exhaustion, both emotionally and physically. You found yourself wishing, again, that you hadn’t taken a day off. If you hadn’t, Sylus wouldn’t have broken into your apartment to explain he wasn’t out with someone else. To you. The person he was also decidedly Not With. You fiddled with his evol in your lap. You had been around him often enough to know this teasing was his way of trying to cheer you up – to take your mind somewhere else besides exhausted and angry and I want to leave this plane of existence.

“I’ll be sure to follow through with it next time.” 

There was no real bite to your words – to your ears, you only sounded exactly as you felt. Like you were threatening the man you had feelings for who did not return them, yet still refused to leave you alone. A plaything for his own amusements. Sylus merely nodded. His evol had since made its way to the drawstrings of your shorts, and it was tying them in various intricate knots, there. You wondered at it. It seemed to have a mind of its own – but you were certain that this, too, was another idle whim of his.

“I’m looking forward to it, then.” 

His statement was quiet, nearly a sigh of pleasure. The back of your neck and ears burned in tandem. You examined the knots that were now likely forever tied into your poor drawstring. 

What the fuck kind of knots even were these?

You pointedly ignored the minor arousal that threatened to arise at this.

“There’s something wrong with your brain. Seriously.” 

“It takes a thief to catch a thief, my dove.” You could hear the smile in his words as he spoke.

“You have a few days off, right?” He was rolling the previously abandoned suppressor around in his fingers, examining it. You swore he had somehow gotten closer to you on the small couch – with the way his legs were spread, his knee was just barely touching yours. 

“Yeah. Wait, how did you know?”

He ignored your question. As he almost always did, as it suited him. Instead, he responded with another question of his own.

“Why don’t you come back with me to the N109 zone? You can rest there, instead of here. Or, we can go out. Whatever you’d like.”

You were about to deny him, but his voice took on a more serious tone as he continued to speak.

“This place is going to claim your life if you don’t leave it every once in a while.”

You look two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Why was everyone in your life so thoroughly convinced of your impending collapse? Even your criminal mastermind was in on it. You scrunched Sylus’s evol up in your hands. It wiggled, protesting your treatment in your fingers, but not dissipating. You wondered if he could feel your touch through it. If he could feel it when he killed. Maybe you did need to leave – maybe this place was killing you. If it wasn’t Wanderers, it would be your own disregard for yourself. Maybe the air was forever tainted by the death of your family, and the miasma would never quite leave your lungs. Maybe running away was the best thing to do. Sylus was giving you an out – at least for a little while. Maybe there were strings attached. There had to be, without a shadow of a doubt.  He was silent while you mulled it over. You expected him to comment on your lack of response, but he said nothing.

Irritatingly patient.

You sighed. You turned to Sylus.

“Fine. But I only have a few days. Give me a few minutes to pack my things.”

Sylus had the good grace to look surprised at how easily you had agreed to his suggestion, but it quickly turned into a look of barely concealed smug satisfaction. His evol vanished from your grip, and you found yourself missing its comforting touch.

“You technically don’t need to pack anything. I have everything you could possibly need at the base. Clothes, food, weapons, shampoo, conditioner…the kinds you like.” He trailed off. You couldn’t tell how serious he was being, what with the expression he was serving you. You shot him a look.

He raised his hands, showing you his palms, submitting once again. 

“Like I said. Give me a minute to pack my things.”

Sylus leaned back on the couch, relenting. He dropped his hands.

True to your word, gathering your things for a trip to the N109 zone took little time at all. It wasn’t that you were particularly Spartan with your assets – but rather that Sylus really did keep all of the things you needed around, and much more. Knowing you could trust him on this front made warmth creep to your face, and the cold began to seep from your bones. After changing, you returned to the living room with your bag, where Sylus was patiently awaiting your return. He was peering out your window. The sun hit him just right, and it illuminated his eyes with its beams. The red only intensified in the light, the color of blood only just exposed to air. You could have stared at the image of him forever. He always claimed to be unlucky, but it seemed to you as if every aspect of the world bowed to him. For someone who was so weak to its rays, he was lit brilliantly by the sun. He turned to you, squinting. Your eyes fell to your gun, which was in his hands. You recalled that he had definitely returned it to the safe, previously. He waved it at you, careful not to point the barrel in your direction.

“Don’t forget this.”

He stood as he spoke, and stepped toward you. His form loomed over you, and you felt him slip the gun into your thigh holster (where you had planned to put your standard issue) underneath your coat.

  Bastard. 

His hand lingered on your hip before he put it in his coat pocket. He smelled good. He was wearing something today that you couldn’t quite place. His natural scent was there, too. 

Rosemary? Figs? Cloves?

“Shall we?”

His voice cut through your mental musings on men’s fragrance notes. You nodded, following after him as he led you out of your apartment. You were sure to lock the door behind you. Again. His bike was waiting faithfully for you in the parking lot. Sylus slipped your helmet on for you (why did he even have a second helmet on him today in the first place?), making sure your hair was tucked neatly away behind your neck. After repeating the action on himself, he kicked the stand out from under his bike, and you got on behind him. You always had no choice but to wrap your arms around him when you rode. You wondered how it made him feel – or if he felt anything about the contact at all. His back was broad, solid, and warm underneath your touch. You swore you could feel his muscles ripple underneath you, even with the barrier of his clothing between you. You squeezed him a little tighter as he began to drive. Even through your jacket, the air nipped at you for your speed. As he pressed the bike harder, you felt something tickle around your waist. You peeked down as best you could through the visor of your helmet. Sylus’s evol was keeping you neatly attached to him, as if your arms weren’t enough. The inside of your helmet suddenly felt hotter. You tried not to think about why he did the things he did. Sylus offered no acknowledgement or explanation for any of this. As always.

The bike sped on to the N109 zone, eager to return to where it belonged.

[feyd-meowtha]

A Pain That I'm Used To Ch 13: Haunted House

When Paul awoke the dawn was grey, highlighted in blues and yellows where the rising sun hit the frost. At some point while he had been asleep the fire had burned out and the embers twinkled in the hearth, playful and inviting. Paul spared a look at Feyd who was lying with his eyes closed. Something about the stress in his shoulders made Paul suspect that he wasn’t actually asleep but he couldn’t be sure so he didn’t disturb him, thinking it best to let him rest. Coaxing the fire back to life was a quick task and soon they were once again toasty warm, the thin layer of ice that had formed on the windows thawed and dripped in miniature waterfalls onto the window-sills making rhythmic pattering sound.

[malachitezmeyka]

Naming OCs actually sucks so much sometimes, especially when the creators of the source material have no fucking idea which culture they’re drawing from

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Chapter 10)

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: oral, bathroom sex, strap-on, smut, mommy kink, little bit of angst at first

Author's note: so sorry this took so long to post lol things have been crazy

Taglist (hope I didn't miss anyone, and if I did, I'm so sorry!): @stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch

When you had found out your dad was cheating on your mom two years ago, you could feel the numbness seeping into every crack and crevice in your body. You remember looking at his phone while you two were watching a tv show and seeing the dirty texts he sent to a woman he used to work with. He was never very subtle about texting her, and you just had a feeling. Deep down, you knew what you were going to find. 

That didn’t mean it still didn't hurt. 

The betrayal, the anger, the sadness. They all rushed over you but you’re still not really sure if you actually felt any of it. You were in a daze for the rest of the day, the need to scream building in your throat gradually. 

You finally couldn’t take it anymore and you went for a run the next day, which is something you never would usually do. The thumping of your feet against the pavement sounded like why? why? why? Why would he do this? Why would he choose her over his family? You ran until it felt like your legs were on fire and your lungs were about to burst until you finally doubled over, bit down on your hand, and let the guttural scream claw its way out of you. Your teeth had broken your skin and you could still see the small white scar if you flexed your hand just right. 

After that, you locked the pain somewhere deep down inside you. You hadn’t even gotten to really confront him about it.

But when Agatha says that your dad is having an affair, you feel your stomach drop and somewhere, the buried feelings start begging to get free, rattling on the bars of their enclosure. 

“What?” You ask quietly, a lump growing in your throat as you crane your head up to look at her. Your hand on her stomach stalls. She has a distant look in her eyes. 

“Monday night after you left, your dad couldn’t find his phone so we were looking for it. I found it on the kitchen table while he was looking in his office and he had just gotten a text. I glanced at it and it was from a woman.” Agatha doesn’t continue, but you can only imagine what the text said. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump getting bigger. You remember making that mean comment to her the first night you got dinner about him cheating again. 

She laughs ironically. “I guess I can’t be mad. I mean, look at us.”  

You glance up at her to meet her sardonic eyes. “Yeah, but look at who you cheated on versus who he did. I’m sure this other woman isn’t even half as hot as you are.” 

She softly smiles and then leans down to peck your lips with hers. “That’s sweet of you to say, honey.” 

“So what are you going to do?” 

She sighs deeply and starts gently tugging on the ends of your hair. “I don’t know. Confront him? Get a divorce? I’ve spent the last two days just trying to figure something out.” 

Her cold silence makes sense now. So does the way she fucked you earlier. 

You turn your head and press a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, because what else is there to say? “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Her fingers tighten in your hair and they pull to tilt your head so you’re looking right at her. “I can think of something,” she says, a teasing lilt in her voice. 

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyebrow raises and she smirks with a daring nod. “Anything for my step-mother.” 

You kiss down her stomach, making sure to sink your teeth into her delectable abs and suck hard. She moans and arches her back off the bed. Soon enough, her midsection is littered with red marks and fuck, it’s hot. 

If your dad is too much of a fucking idiot to appreciate this woman, you’ll just have to take matters into your own hands. 

You settle between her thighs on the bed and slowly drag your tongue up the inside of her right thigh. A noise slips out from her lips and you do the same thing on the other side to hear it again. 

“Stop teasing, baby,” she warns in a low voice. She’s glistening. 

You chuckle and then lick up through her folds. She groans and raises her hips so you can get in closer. Your tongue swirls around her clit. 

“Fuck,” she swears under her breath. You begin to lap at her, heat growing between your own legs at the way her breath stutters and her thighs begin to shake. 

“Did he ever make you feel like this?” You ask, words garbled since your mouth is full of her cunt. But she rolls her hips on her face seemingly involuntarily, so you know she understood. 

“Never,” she says breathlessly and you pick up the pace, swirling and sucking, wanting her to feel good. 

She cums quickly and then she pulls you up into a deep kiss, tongue moving over yours to taste herself. 

“What does this mean for us?” You wonder aloud after she cleans your face and you both are cuddling again. If Agatha and your father get divorced, will this affair end? Will it become more?

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“I don’t know,” you say, because you don’t. “I like this, though.” 

She kisses your forehead and you can feel her smiling against you. “I do, too.” 

***

Dinner tonight with Agatha and I? is what your dad texts you the next day while you’re at school. You frown and quickly shoot Agatha a text about it. The two of you hadn’t spoken any more about what she was going to do about your father’s infidelity so you just want to be aware if you’re walking into a trap. You’re not sure you can take another dinner where your dad sits you down and tells you that he’s getting a divorce. 

Agatha responds that she hasn’t talked to him yet. You did know that he was away on business – although, that could just be code for having an affair – so he hasn’t been home. And you don’t think Agatha would be one to confront him over the phone. 

You text your dad back that you’ll be there. You’re curious to see what it’s about. 

The rest of the day passes quickly while you worry about what dinner could bring. You take a quick shower when you get home from school and put on a casual black dress. You don’t really care about looking nice for whatever restaurant you go to, you just want to look good for Agatha. Your mouth almost waters at the thought of whatever she will wear. She always manages to look ethereal. 

Your phone buzzes with a message from Agatha. Your father is meeting us at the restaurant. I’m outside. 

You can sense the tension radiating off the older woman the moment you step outside. She tersely watches you walk over to her car and slide into the passenger seat. Agatha’s wearing pants with a silky button down shirt and she looks hot. 

“Hey, baby,” she says, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“You okay?” 

She grimaces and puts her sunglasses on. “I’ve barely talked to him since he left on his trip. He just asked if the three of us could get dinner.” 

Your brow furrows. “Are you going to say anything tonight?” 

Agatha purses her lips and reaches over to pat your leg. “I wouldn’t do that with you there. I’m not putting you in the middle of this.” 

Your heart warms because your mother did not hesitate to put you in the middle of her problems with your dad. She had broken almost every boundary and turned you into her therapist, and it now fills you with immense gratitude that Agatha won’t do that. 

Even though you are very much in the middle of it, with you and her having sex and all. 

“Thank you.” 

You both launch into small talk until you pull into the restaurant parking lot, where you see your dad waiting out front. Your stomach begins to sink just at the sight of him. 

You can’t believe he did it again. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Agatha asks, voice tight with worry. She must see how you’re looking at him through the window. You’ve never opened up about your parents with her, but you can tell that she at least partly knows how you must be feeling. 

You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. “I’m good.” 

You try to not get angry when your dad’s face lights up at the sight of the two of you. 

“My favorite girls!” He booms and pulls you both into a hug. You can feel how tense Agatha is and you’re sure you feel the same. “How are we?”

“Good,” you mutter and Agatha says something along the lines of that as well. 

He made a reservation so you’re immediately led to a booth tucked in the back of the restaurant. You sit opposite your dad and Agatha doesn’t hesitate before sliding in next to you. 

“How was your trip?” Agatha asks, tone laced with something sharp like she’s trying to catch him in an act. 

Before he can answer, the waitress comes over. She looks a few years older than you, with brown hair and pretty blue eyes. Almost like a younger version of Agatha, you think. She takes your drink orders, her gaze lingering a bit too long on you as you ask for a sprite. 

You can see Agatha scowling at her out of the corner of your eye. 

Your dad starts talking about his work when she leaves but you suddenly lose all focus when Agatha slowly moves her hand to your thigh and grips it possessively. 

She clearly does not like the waitress, who comes back a few minutes later with your drinks. Fully aware of this, you reach out to take your sprite from the waitress and your fingers brush right in front of Agatha’s face.

Her nails dig into your leg and you subtly smirk at her. Her eyes have completely darkened. 

After everyone orders food, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You’ve started throbbing from the tight hold Agatha has on you – both literally and figuratively – and you’re not sure you’ll last another minute without some relief. 

Just as you push open the door, someone grabs your wrist and shoves you inside. You gasp and whirl around, fear clenching your heart, only to find that it’s Agatha. 

She closes the door behind her and locks it. You’re so thankful it’s a single-person bathroom. 

Agatha advances and you step back until you hit the sink. 

“I know what you’re doing,” she hisses, trapping you against it by putting her hands on either side of you. 

“What do you mean, mommy?” You ask innocently, enjoying the way her dark eyes flash. Her hand comes up to wrap around your throat and a thrill runs through you. You’re sure you’re absolutely dripping now. 

“You were making eyes at that dirty waitress,” she accuses. “Looks like you need a reminder of who you belong to.” 

Before you can ask what she means, she flips you over so the sink is cutting into your hip bones and you can see the reflection of you both in the mirror. You look like a mess. And she looks like she is enjoying every bit of it. 

And then she grinds her front against you and you feel something hard in her pants. You watch your mouth fall open in the mirror. 

“You-” You don’t even have the words and the ache inside you is only getting worse. A smug smile spreads across her face as she reaches down to unzip her pants. Her other hand moves your underwear to the side, not even bothering to take it off.

She drags her strap-on up and down your slit, laughing cruelly at the way your hips move to try to get her inside. 

“Please,” you whine, feeling empty. 

She leans down so she can whisper in your ear, “Who do you belong to?” 

“You, mommy,” you say desperately and you let out a loud moan when she finally pushes into you.

“Be quiet,” she jeers and spanks you hard. You bite down on your lip to keep from moaning, but also to keep from telling her that spanking makes noise, too.

She sets a rough pace from the beginning, grabbing onto your hips with bruising force. You let out little gasps as she thrusts into you, over and over, already bringing you close to the edge. She reaches around you with one hand and starts rubbing your clit and your head falls forward in pleasure. 

Agatha pauses for a second so she can yank you back up by your hair. “Look at yourself,” she says, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror. She resumes her fast pace. “Look at how well you’re taking my cock for me. Look at how much of a slut you are for me.” When she calls you a slut, you physically can’t stop the sound that comes out of your mouth. 

“Mommy, please,” you pant, your entire body feeling like a livewire. “Wanna cum.”

“Do you think a brat like you deserves to cum after making mommy jealous like that?” 

“M’sorry, mommy, I’ll be good,” you practically cry. You meet every thrust, eyes rolling back in your head from how perfect she feels. Your body is on edge from all the effort it’s taking to not cum. “Need to, so close.”

“Who do you belong to?” 

“You, only you,” you sob. 

“Good girl,” she says, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Cum for me, sweetheart.” 

Two more thrusts and a rub of your clit and you cum all over her cock. It’s explosive and you bite on your lip so hard that you taste blood. She begins to slow down as you come back down to earth and you rest your head against the mirror to recover. 

Someone knocks on the door and you freeze since your step-mother is buried to the hilt inside of you at this current moment. 

But she just sweetly calls, “Occupied!” and you can’t help but laugh breathlessly. She pulls out of you and you wince. 

“Wow,” you say as she helps you clean up. “You know I wasn’t flirting with the waitress, right?” 

She smirks and pulls you in for a deep kiss. “I know, baby. I just couldn’t spend another minute listening to your dad talk.”

“Join the club.” 

You feel like everyone is watching the two of you as you make your way back to the table, but in reality, they’re not. Your dad is on his phone texting someone – you think you see a woman’s name at the top – but he quickly swipes out of it when he notices that you both have come back. You glance at Agatha just in time to see her eye twitching. 

“There you ladies are! I thought you had gotten lost. Everything okay?” He asks. You think you’re just imagining the condescending tone, but Agatha stiffens next to you so maybe not. 

“Actually yeah,” she says. “I’m filing for divorce.” You gape at her as she spins on her heel and walks away. 

You turn your head back to your dad, who looks back at you, dumbfounded. 

“Sweet pea-” he starts but you hold up your hand to cut him off. 

“No. Fuck you. You don’t deserve anyone.” 

And then you leave to follow Agatha, feeling suddenly like the weight inside you has finally lifted. 

[usagii-bun]

PART 2|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+

PART 1 , PART 2

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 3 parts)

this is extra long cause i combined chapters 2 and 3 together from ao3 <3

word count: 12.3k

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

Alhaitham stumbled back into the apartment, the faint buzz of alcohol still lingering in his system. He was slightly tipsy, though not as far gone as his roommate Kaveh, who was practically hanging off his shoulder, muttering nonsense.

"Man, you’re so uptight, even when you're drinking," Kaveh slurred, squinting at Alhaitham as though he were the most complex puzzle in existence. "I swear, you could be at a rave and still look like you’re solving a theorem." He laughed, his voice echoing through the empty hallway.

Alhaitham rolled his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe I just have better things to think about than your drunken rambling," he shot back, guiding Kaveh to the couch before retreating towards his study. He'd had enough of Kaveh's inebriated philosophies for one night.

But Kaveh, as persistent as ever, wasn't finished. "Why don't you ever just… loosen up? You're going to get wrinkles from frowning so much." He waved a lazy hand in the air. "You should find a cam girl or something. It'd do you some good."

Alhaitham stopped in his tracks, turning to glare at his roommate. "That's not exactly my thing, Kaveh."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Kaveh mumbled something else, but by then, Alhaitham had already shut the door to his study, the noise fading behind him. Sitting down at his desk, he stared at the open books in front of him, trying to push the absurd conversation out of his mind. But Kaveh’s words lingered—annoyingly so. Loosen up, huh?

He huffed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of Kaveh’s drunken comment gnaw at him. It was ridiculous, really. Alhaitham didn’t need to "loosen up" in the way Kaveh suggested. He was perfectly content with his routine. Yet, for some reason, his mind kept circling back to Kaveh’s joke.

Cam girls.

Without much thought, and more out of curiosity than anything else, Alhaitham pulled his laptop closer, typing out a quick search. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just mindlessly scrolling through the thumbnails of various profiles. None of them really caught his interest. It all seemed so superficial, so far from anything that would actually intrigue him.

Until he accidentally clicked on a profile.

He almost clicked out of it immediately, but something made him pause. The girl on screen—her features were soft, her expression carefully masked, but there was something in her eyes. Pain, discomfort, maybe? She shifted, and he could see she was trying to hide it, to maintain the performance, but she was clearly not okay.

Before he realized what he was doing, his fingers flew across the keyboard, tipping her to stop. He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was the urge to help, or just the fact that he couldn’t stand to see someone in obvious pain without intervening.

A notification popped up on her screen, and she blinked, pausing in the middle of whatever she was doing. Alhaitham watched as she read his message, a look of surprise briefly crossing her face before she stopped, offering a small, grateful smile in return.

He could have left it at that. He should have. But something kept him there, his hand hovering over the request for a private session. It wasn’t about pleasure—not in the way Kaveh had implied. No, this was different. He was curious, intrigued by her reaction, her vulnerability. Before he could second-guess himself, he sent the request.

When the private session began, her demeanour was noticeably more relaxed. She wasn’t putting on the same kind of show for him as she might for others, and that suited him just fine. They didn’t talk much. He asked her if she was okay, she reassured him that she was, and for the most part, he just watched. Not in a voyeuristic way, but as if observing something—someone—he didn’t quite understand.

And when it was over, he left.

He hadn’t planned on returning. Alhaitham chalked the whole thing up to an odd impulse, one brought on by Kaveh’s careless words. Yet, as the days passed, he found his mind drifting back to her. To the softness of her features, the way her smile had changed once she knew he wasn’t there to demand anything from her. The way she had looked so at ease, even in that strange, intimate setting.

It didn’t take long before he found himself on the site again. And again.

This time, he didn’t stop at curiosity. He began to indulge, slowly, cautiously, but undeniably drawn to her. There was something about her presence—her calmness, her smile—that tugged at him in ways he didn’t fully comprehend. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or maybe it was the contrast between her work and the moments where she let her guard down. Whatever it was, it kept pulling him back.

As the days slipped by, Alhaitham found himself returning to the site more often than he expected. It had started innocently enough, just curiosity, but now something deeper tugged at him. He’d try to focus on his work, bury himself in books, but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind.

One night, after yet another exhausting day, he found himself logging in again, the familiar tension rising in his chest. He clicked onto her profile, waiting for the livestream to start. When she appeared on screen, his breath caught. She was wearing soft, black lingerie, the delicate lace hugging her body in a way that made his pulse quicken. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight—subtle, alluring, but also personal. Intimate, almost as if this performance wasn’t for the masses but for him alone.

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the screen casting a soft glow over his face as he watched her. She was teasing, slow and deliberate with her movements, but what really held him captive was the way she seemed… comfortable. Confident. It wasn’t just a performance anymore, and that realization stirred something in him.

When she shifted, her fingers trailing over her skin, he felt a heat pool low in his stomach. His gaze was fixed, his mind lost in the rhythm of her motions. He tried to keep himself detached, like he had before, but this time it was different. This time, he couldn’t stop the slow, building desire creeping through him.

She began to interact with her chat, answering questions with a soft, teasing smile, but it felt like her attention was elsewhere—on something more personal. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Alhaitham couldn’t shake the feeling that she was aware of him watching, that she knew he was there. As if the connection they had in that first private session hadn’t been fleeting.

And when she finally glanced at the camera, eyes half-lidded, her fingers trailing lower over the soft fabric of her lingerie, something snapped in him.

Before he could stop himself, he sent a request for a private session. The notification appeared on her screen, and her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She accepted immediately, and the screen shifted, blocking out the rest of the audience until it was just the two of them.

The atmosphere was different this time—heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries, her fingers moving with more intent, a soft hum escaping her lips as she settled into the space they now shared. Alhaitham’s eyes followed every movement, the heat building inside him impossible to ignore now.

“Enjoying yourself tonight?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, though there was a flicker of genuine curiosity behind her words.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as his nimble fingers typed a response.

User1102: You could say that.

Her lips parted in a slow smile as her hands continued their path across her body, teasing the lace of her lingerie aside just enough to reveal more of her soft skin. “You seem… different tonight.”

Alhaitham's fingers tightened around the edge of his desk. He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she wasn’t wrong. There was something about tonight, about her, that had shifted. Maybe it was the soft glow of her room, or the way the pink fabric contrasted against her skin. Maybe it was the knowledge that this moment was private, just between the two of them, that made everything feel more… intimate. More real.

He watched, entranced, as she slipped her hand lower, her breath hitching slightly. His pulse quickened, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. He could feel his own restraint slipping, the lines he had drawn for himself blurring.

This wasn’t just curiosity anymore. This was something else entirely.

His fingers quickly typed up a response, his breath already shallow as his eyes lingered at the top of her supple breasts.

Alhaitham didn't know what to feel but the feeling of his cock already straining against his pants, he's about to get his money's worth.

He was shirtless already due to the warm summer but he was already racking

up a cold sweat, he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his cock, hissing as it throbs at the sight of her in lingerie.

User1102: why don't you surprise me today, take control.

Her eyes glistened at his reply as she giggled. Her hand reaching out behind her as Alhaitham’s eyes widen.

"Fuck" He groans out, body shuddering at the large dildo she had in her hand. Her eyes flickering from the camera to the dildo as her lips trailed along the length of it sensual.

He watched with keen eyes as she brought the dildo down to her puffy pussy, juice already leaking from the hole— so much that she didn't even need lube to lubricate the dildo.

Alhaitham’s fist wrapped loosely around his hard cock, the veins pulsating against his hand as his brain became foggy.

He watched as she slowly pushed the tip inside of her, her pussy clenching tightly at the tip a high pitch moan escapes passed her parted gloss lips. Alhaitham's hand glided up his cock and to the tip as he squeezed it, imagining it was his big cock pushing through her tiny pussy.

He mimicked her pussy with his hand, imagining how tight she must be as she slowly pushed the dildo inside of her. Her thighs shaking, sweating glistening on them as she quickly reached down with her other hand to play with her puffy clit.

Alhaitham reached out with his one hand to type in a response as his cock was pulsating in his fist.

She was waiting for his next command even though he gave her the green light to do her own things.

User1102: such a good bunny. Such a good girl for me. Your pussy looks so stuffed, wished it was my cock in their instead.

Her eyes skimmed through the message, a messy moan leaves her mouth as she moves the dildo in her , a sloppy sound being her.

"I w-wish it was your cock. F-feels so good, would feel so much better if it was your thick cock in me-ahh" her words came out in a moan at the end as Alhaitham started moving his fist tightly on his cock to match the rhythm of her moving the dildo in her.

If he was there, he would move much faster. Pound her tight pussy until she was overflowing with his cum.

you’re so pretty, cheeks flushed and lips parting into the perfect orgasm face as your shaking arm reaches for your clit, eyes so hooded that you can barely see the screen in front of you.

Alhaitham’s hand pumps his cock a little faster, following the rough and fast circles you’re subjecting your aching clit to. He allows himself to groan loudly, gripping the arm of the chair as he thrusts up into his hand, pre-cum spilling over his shaft.

your high pitched moans are music to his ears and the twitching of your legs are proof of the pleasure that he’s indirectly causing.

your head’s thrown back, exposing your neck as your hips roll against the dildo, juices from your cunt sliding down your ass as it drenches the sheets below you.

“s-sir please! can i cum? please let me cum! i’ve been a good girl!”

tingles run down Alhaitham's spine as he hears your whiny voice beg.

His hand reaches out to type a quick response as his other furiously jerks his pulsating cock.

User1102: cum for me.

The chair creaking as he fucks his hand and your eyes scan the chat, you pinch your clit and scream, body convulsing as you cum all over the dildo.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m cumming !” you wail, back arching off the bed. your body stiffens at the uncomfortable position as a stream of clear liquid shoots out of your pussy, drenching your soiled sheets even more.

Alhaitham follows suit, moaning as white spurts of cum shoot out of his cock, staining his thighs and abs. eyes dark and mind hazy from his orgasm, your eyes are heavy and lidded when you sit up, chest heaving and nipples aching as the toy slowly leaves your pussy, whining as you feel your juices slide down your ass.

Alhaitham's eyes widen when you fumble around the dildo and pulled the toy that’s shining and glistening with your essence.

you put the wet and warm toy in your mouth, sucking and licking like you would on a real cock. Alhaitham groans, closing his eyes as he hears you moan, tasting yourself on the toy.

The sound going straight to his cock again as images start to form in his mind, imagining you doing that to him, choking on his cock before he grabs your hips, giving ut a squeeze and slaps your ass, entering your needy pussy in one hard thrust.

you practically crawl towards the laptop, eyes sultry and inviting before you pull the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and throw a dazzling smile at the camera, as if you didn’t get ruined by a silicone cock a few moments before.

“i hope you enjoyed the show, sir. but i wish it was your real cock that made me cum and squirt like that.”

with one last wink to the camera, you end the stream.

Alhaitham body slumped on his chair, eyes staring at the blank laptop screen as his gaze fell above him on his ceiling. His breathing erratic as his gazes falls on his cock that had harden once again.

'Fuck'

'Fuck'

Alhaitham stood at the entrance of the lecture hall, his usual calm exterior masking the storm of disbelief swirling inside him. His eyes scanned the room, moving over the rows of students until they landed on you. There you was—sitting in the back, casually leaning over your desk, looking as though you was about to drift off to sleep. You looked so different from the confident, alluring woman he'd been captivated by just last night, completely unaware of the private session that now hung heavy between them.

The sudden images of you sucking on the dildo flashed in his mind, your moan echoing in his head as he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep moving, though his steps felt heavier. His thoughts raced. How could this happen? Out of all the people who could have been sitting in his classroom, it had to be you—the woman who had unknowingly shaken him to his core.

Clearing his throat, he stood at the front of the room, addressing the class. “There will be a pop quiz today, ” he announced, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of tension. The class erupted into groans as he forced himself not to roll his eyes "you would know this if you saw the email last night and prepared."

“Old-fashioned, on paper.” Alhaitham also stated as he began handing out the papers, his focus was everywhere but where it should be. He moved down each row, handing out the sheets with mechanical precision, his gaze subtly darting toward the back where you sat, unbothered by the sudden quiz.

Reaching your row, he slowed. You was sitting at the end, your usual nonchalance etched on your face as you glanced at the blank paper. He handed the quiz to the student beside you, who passed it down until it reached you. But something within him made him pause.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the next sheet in his hand. As he approached you, your hands brushed—just for a moment, just enough to send a jolt of awareness through his entire body. Your skin was warm against his, and the contact sent an unexpected tingle up his arm. It was as if time froze, the casual touch sparking something deep inside him.

He pulled his hand back quickly, almost too quickly, and felt the weight of your gaze lift to him. He could feel the heat rise to his neck, but he kept moving, walking down the next row as if nothing had happened.

But something had changed.

Alhaitham sat at his desk, attempting to focus on the papers in front of him, but all he could think about was the feel of your skin brushing against his. His fingers still tingled, the sensation lingering in his mind far longer than it should have. He glanced up, watching as you lazily scribbled answers on your quiz, unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

He shook his head, mentally chastising himself.

' You’re her professor. This cannot happen.'

His gaze falls back on his laptop, an email from the Dean of the university had popped up. His eyes furrow to see that she would like to talk to him after his current lecture. An annoyed sigh escaping past his lips.

'Great. They problem want me to do something for them.'

And he was right.

Alhaitham leaned against the wall of the dean’s office, arms crossed, his mind a tumultuous storm of conflicting thoughts. Rukkhadevata sat across from him, a knowing look in her eyes as she shuffled through a few papers on her desk. The room was adorned with academic awards and a bookshelf brimming with scholarly texts, giving it an air of seriousness and authority.

“Alhaitham, I appreciate you coming by on such short notice,” she began, her voice calm and inviting. “I wanted to discuss an opportunity for a student who’s expressed a keen interest in linguistics and academia.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet wary. “Who is it?” he asked, though he already felt the shadows of doubt creeping in.

“Her name is [Your Name]. She’s in her fourth year, and I believe she could greatly benefit from shadowing you during your afternoon lectures with the first-year students.” Rukkhadevata paused, observing his reaction.

Alhaitham's brows scrunched in thought, he had heard the name a few times from other professors and also knows he has someone named that in his class but he don’t know how that person looks.

“I see,” he replied,, dryly. “But does she have the necessary background to assist? I teach advanced concepts that require a solid foundation.”

Rukkhadevata nodded, her expression resolute. “She’s demonstrated exceptional aptitude in her studies, particularly in linguistics. This experience could be pivotal for her. You know as well as I do that sometimes, a little guidance can ignite a passion for research and teaching in a student.”

Alhaitham contemplated her words, it would be a good learning ground for him to. Understanding the mind of a student and how they think when teaching a lecture but also it means his personal time in his office will be cut short as the student will need to shadow him.

“What if I’m not comfortable with the arrangement? There are other professors who can take her on,” he suggested, his tone more curt than intended.

“Alhaitham,” she replied, her voice steady and reassuring. “I understand your reservations, but I truly believe this is a unique opportunity for both of you. If you don’t take her on, there’s another professor, Tighnari, who would be more than willing to open the spot for her. He already has a student named Collei shadowing him but I don’t want her to miss out on this chance as you're qualified in the linguistics department.”

With a sigh, Alhaitham pushed himself off the wall “Very well,” he conceded, the words slipping out before he could fully process them. “I’ll take her on.”

“Great! I’ll inform her immediately. You’ll meet with her after her morning lectures, and we can discuss the schedule,” Rukkhadevata said, a pleased smile gracing her features.

As Alhaitham left her office, his mind drifted back to you. His mind in a turmoil not knowing what to do. How is going to lecture in a class knowing that he gets off to one of his students ?

The next day, Alhaitham sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the clock as the minutes ticked by. Ten minutes late. His jaw clenched slightly. He didn’t tolerate lateness, especially not from someone who was supposed to shadow him. He hated wasted time, and this student had already made a poor impression.

Just as he was about to rise from his chair to leave the office to attend to other matters, the door creaked open. His irritation sharpened, but as the door swung wide, his thoughts ground to a halt.

His eyes widened as he realized you were standing in the doorway.

You walked into the room, slightly out of breath, looking a bit flustered. At first, it was just shock. Of all the students, of all the people—it was you, the cam girl he'd been watching for a month, the same girl who had held his attention in ways he couldn’t quite understand. Seeing you here, in front of him, outside of the screen and now close up, was a jarring collision of his two worlds.

For a moment, he was silent, his gaze trailing over you. You looked different in person, softer maybe, but still just as striking. His eyes flicked to the way your hair framed your face, the way you nervously shifted from foot to foot. But then reality hit him like a cold wave. You were here, standing in his office, his student.

He quickly masked his shock, his expression hardening. “You’re late,” he said, his voice colder than he intended, almost biting. “Ten minutes late.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting the harsh tone. “I’m sorry—I got a little lost.”

He let out a small, frustrated breath, trying to gather himself. “Being lost isn’t an excuse. If you’re going to shadow me, I expect punctuality. I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

You nodded, looking slightly out of place, like you weren’t sure where to stand or what to do with your hands. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

He glanced at you again, his mind still whirling. He couldn’t believe it. The girl he had been watching from behind the safety of a screen, whose cam sessions had been a guilty distraction late at night, was standing right in front of him. And you had no idea who he was other than being your professor.

“Your name is Y/N, correct?” He forced his voice to remain steady, trying to push aside the surreal nature of this situation.

“Yes,” you answered, shifting under his gaze.

“Good,” he muttered, his hand tightening around the edge of his desk. He had to regain control of this conversation—this situation. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by you, not now, not ever. “We’ll start tomorrow. You’ll shadow me throughout the day. I’ll send you your schedule later.”

You nodded again, still looking somewhat nervous, and something about it tugged at him, though he immediately pushed the thought away.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some normalcy in the moment. But the tension lingered, thick in the air. You noticed, of course, the subtle way he shifted, his eyes darting away from yours as if trying to hide something.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, your concern genuine, though you had no idea why he was acting this way.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, but then, catching himself, he softened his tone. “I’m fine. That will be all.”

You looked like you were about to say something more, but instead, you simply nodded and turned to leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His mind raced. He had thought about assigning you to someone else—maybe Tighnari—but now that idea seemed impossible. The thought of someone else mentoring you made him feel… unsettled. No, he would have to handle this himself, regardless of how difficult it might become.

He closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the room wash over him. Tomorrow, he would have to keep his distance, keep things professional. But even now, your face lingered in his mind, and he knew it wouldn’t be as simple as he hoped.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

It was the first day, and you were already regretting being assigned to shadow Professor Alhaitham. After how he had embarrassed you for being late for class and yesterday, you dreaded the idea of spending more time with him. He was a sharp-tongued, cold-hearted ass, but you couldn’t afford to pass up this opportunity. Shadowing him would be invaluable for your studies, even if his attitude grated on your nerves.

You glanced at your watch. It was almost 1 p.m., the time for Alhaitham’s first-year lecture. With a sigh, you reached into your bag and pulled out a compact mirror and lipstick, deciding to retouch it before the lecture started. As you carefully applied the soft shade to your lips, the reflection in the mirror shifted, and you caught sight of him standing at the doorway, staring at you.

Heat rushed to your face, and your hand paused mid-swipe. You could feel his gaze burning into you, intense and unwavering. His eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes in the mirror, and you quickly snapped the compact shut, turning around to face him with a flustered expression.

Alhaitham didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not sure why you’re putting on lipstick right before a lecture,” he remarked, his voice smooth but laced with the kind of dry sarcasm that left you unsure whether it was meant to insult or simply observe. “It’s not like that will help you retain the content better.”

Your blush deepened at the jab, but there was no real malice in his tone. It was just his way. You pursed your lips slightly, resisting the urge to snap back, instead choosing to stay silent. He crossed the room with that same calm, collected air he always had, handing you a stack of papers.

“You’ll need these,” he said, his tone shifting back to business. “I’m giving them a quiz—similar to what I did with your class the other day. After the lecture, you’ll stay back and mark them with me.”

You stared at the stack of papers in your hand, feeling the weight of both the physical and mental load. The thought of sitting with him after school, going through these quizzes together, made you groan under your breath, though not loud enough for him to hear clearly. The last thing you wanted was to spend more time than necessary with him, especially after his cold remarks the day before.

He raised an eyebrow at your reaction but didn’t comment, his expression unreadable. “Complaining won’t make the work go away,” he said mildly, as if already expecting your frustration. “Better get used to it.”

You forced a small smile and nodded, begrudgingly accepting your fate. There was no point arguing. You had signed up for this, after all.

As you followed Alhaitham into the lecture hall, the low hum of students settling into their seats filled the room. You tried not to think about how you’d have to sit with him for hours after school, marking these quizzes. The thought was frustrating, but you kept reminding yourself it was just part of the process. You could handle this.

You settled yourself at the front of the room, laying the stack of quizzes on the desk. Alhaitham began the lecture with his usual confidence, pacing in front of the first-years as he spoke. His voice was steady and sure, effortlessly commanding the room’s attention. It was infuriating how composed he always seemed, never faltering, never showing the slightest hint of emotion beyond his cool detachment.

You found yourself staring at him again, and it annoyed you. How could someone be so frustratingly perfect? His words flowed perfectly, understandable yet his aloofness made it difficult to even like him. It didn’t help that his eyes flickered in your direction occasionally, almost as if he was checking to see if you were paying attention.

Halfway through the lecture, he handed you the quizzes to distribute. You moved through the rows of students, handing them out with a forced smile. Some students gave you sympathetic looks, clearly sensing you were stuck with the task of marking them all later.

As the lecture ended, the bustling sounds of students leaving the hall began to die down. You stood at the back, waiting for the right moment to catch up to Alhaitham. Your fingers drummed nervously on the edge of your notebook, replaying the conversation from earlier in the day. You are stuck with him for the rest of the semester, shadowing his every move as part of the research assistantship you needed for your degree.

He’d embarrassed you once already, calling you out in front of the class on the first day for being late. Now, even though you couldn’t stand his arrogance, you couldn’t afford to let this opportunity go. The problem was, he knew that too. You saw it in his eyes when he handed you those quizzes earlier. There was something so self-assured about him, a smugness that made your blood boil. But still, he had that quiet, undeniable intelligence about him that, annoyingly enough, you found yourself drawn to.

By the time you reached his office, the sun had begun its descent, casting the room in a warm golden hue. Alhaitham's office exudes elegance and order. A polished mahogany table sits at the center, topped with a laptop, a pen, and leather-bound notebooks. Behind it, a high-backed leather chair adds authority and another simpler chair was seat across his table. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and files line the walls, matching the table’s dark wood. Soft light filters through a large window, highlighting a plush Persian rug beneath. A corner features two leather armchairs and a small coffee table, perfect for meetings, while subtle luxuries and framed art complete the space’s refined atmosphere.

Alhaitham's office mirrors his sharp, organized mind—sophisticated, orderly, and rich with knowledge.

 He motioned for you to sit down, his gaze lingering on you as you did.

“here is the quizzes for you to mark. Atleast today you start off with something light.” he said, handing you a fresh stack of papers, his fingers brushing yours again as they had earlier. A small, unintentional jolt of electricity ran up your arm from the brief contact, and you quickly withdrew your hand, focusing on the task in front of you. You tried to ignore the way his presence loomed across the desk, calm but somehow intense.

As you started marking, the silence between you grew thicker. It wasn’t the kind of silence that brought comfort—it felt like there was something unspoken, hanging heavy in the air between you. Every once in a while, you could feel his gaze shift toward you, studying you before returning to his own stack of papers. You nibbled on your bottom lip absentmindedly, concentrating on the quiz in front of you, when you felt it again—his eyes on you.

You looked up, catching him staring at you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a moment, a flicker of something in his eyes, before he quickly looked away. Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting in surprise. What was going on with him?

After a few moments, he broke the silence. "Grab that book for me, will you?" He pointed to a high shelf behind you, his voice cool and even as ever.

You stood, walking over to the shelf and craning your neck to reach the book he’d indicated. It was too high, and as you stretched up on your tiptoes, your skirt began to lift slightly. You felt a twinge of annoyance as your fingers just barely grazed the edge of the book.

Behind you, Alhaitham remained silent, but unbeknownst to you, his eyes were locked on your figure. He couldn’t help but notice the way your skirt rode up slightly, revealing the plump of your tighs, those exact same thighs that were squeezed into tight sheer stockings, with liquid from your greedy pussy soaking them. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts racing despite himself. His mind wandering just how soft those thighs would feel arpund his head, squeezing him as he gets to feast on your pussy.  

He had to keep it together.

Finally, you gave up with a sigh, your arm dropping back to your side. Without a word, Alhaitham stood up and walked over to you, his tall frame easily reaching the book that had eluded you. 

"If you’re going to struggle, at least do it more efficiently," he muttered, the words laced with a faint edge of amusement.

You scowled at him. "You could have just taken the book yourself," you replied, trying to mask your irritation. His words weren’t exactly harsh, but there was always that intellectual superiority in his tone that grated on you.

He had a subtle smirk graced upon his lips "from what I've heard, my mentee should be hands down and do anything I ask." His voice putting more emphasis on 'anything I ask' his light turquoise eyes stare at you, something hidden behind the light glaze in them. You quickly look away, a red coat of blush on your cheeks as you walked back to the desk.

After you both settled back into marking the quizzes, the soft scratching of pens filled the small office space. It was quiet, but the air between you still buzzed with unspoken tension. You tried to focus on grading the papers, but your mind kept wandering to him—his presence just across the desk, the way his gaze sometimes lingered a little too long.

You were halfway through another quiz when a shadow loomed over you. Alhaitham had stood up and moved around the desk, coming to stand right behind you. His tall frame towered over your seated position, and you froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The subtle scent of his cologne—clean, earthy, with a hint of something spicy—washed over you, clouding your mind and making it difficult to focus on the paper in front of you.

"Why do you think this answer is wrong?" he asked, leaning down slightly, his voice low and calm but close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you forgot how to speak. You glanced at the paper, trying to recall what you had marked incorrectly, but the heat radiating from his body and the soft scent of his skin distracted you completely. The closeness of him was overwhelming—his presence, his scent—it all clouded your thoughts until you had to force yourself to snap back into the present.

"Uh… they got the concept of phonetics mixed up with phonology," you stammered, swallowing nervously. "Phonetics is about the sounds themselves, while phonology is about how those sounds function in particular languages."

Alhaitham said nothing for a moment, just staying there, hovering behind you. His proximity made your pulse race, and you could feel the warmth of his body just inches from yours. He leaned in a little more, his fingers tracing the lines of the quiz. Your heart was hammering now, and you cursed yourself for letting your mind wander so much.

"Good," he finally said, straightening back up and, to your surprise, gently patting your head.

The simple, unexpected gesture sent a rush of warmth straight to your cheeks. Your heart fluttered, and you were sure your face had gone bright red. You bit your lip, willing yourself to stay composed, but your thoughts betrayed you. The small pat—so casual, almost paternal—made your mind spin in ways you didn’t expect.

As he moved back to his seat, you sat there for a moment, frozen in place. You couldn’t help but think about how his hand had felt, the gentle pressure on your head, and the surprising warmth it brought. You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus again, but the thought lingered. What if he patted your head every time you gave the right answer?

The idea was ridiculous, but it made your heart race anyway. You could feel the heat rising to your face again, and you had to fight the urge to look at him. You wondered if he noticed how flustered you were, but when you glanced over at him, he was already back to grading, his expression unreadable, as always.

Keep it together, you scolded yourself. This was your professor, and you had to maintain some level of professionalism. But a tiny part of you—the part that was growing more curious about him by the minute—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had noticed your blush.

After the marking, Alhaitham stood up again, gesturing for you to follow him as he headed to his bookshelf. You were still dazed from earlier, but you followed him. He asked you to grab a specific book from the top shelf, but again, it was just out of your reach. You stretched as far as you could, the hem of your skirt lifting slightly as you did. You could feel his eyes on you again, a little more intense this time.

He stepped forward, his presence suddenly looming behind you once more. His hand brushed yours as he reached up easily to retrieve the book. He didn’t say anything at first, but as he handed it to you, his lips quirked into a small, barely-there smirk.

"Struggling again, I see," he muttered, the words laced with that same intellectual superiority you’d come to expect from him. It wasn’t exactly mean, but it stung enough to make your cheeks burn.

You huffed quietly, taking the book from him and returning to your seat. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as he walked back to his desk, but you refused to meet his eyes, determined to ignore the strange tension that had only grown stronger between you.

The marking continued, but your focus was slipping. You kept sneaking glances at him, noticing the small things—how his fingers moved deftly over the papers, how his jaw tensed slightly when he was deep in thought. And then, there were those moments when his eyes would flick to your lips, just for a second, before he quickly looked away.

You absentmindedly nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you’d had for years, but this time, when you caught him staring at you, his gaze lingered a little too long. His eyes traced the movement of your lips, and for a brief second, something flickered in his expression. He quickly shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and returned to his work.

By the time you finished, the sun had set completely, and the warm glow from the office lamps cast a soft light over the room. Alhaitham glanced at the clock, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place.

"It’s nearly past 5," he said, standing up and gathering his papers. "You’re dismissed."

You exhaled a sigh of relief, standing and grabbing your bag. As much as you had been dreading this day, it had passed more smoothly than you expected, though it had left you with far more questions than answers. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you.

As you both stepped outside, the cool evening air hit you, much cooler than you had anticipated. You rubbed your arms, feeling the chill sink in, and muttered under your breath, "Strange how chilly it’s gotten, even though it’s still summer."

Alhaitham paused, glancing over at you before shrugging off his coat. He held it out to you, his expression unreadable.

"Here," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

You blinked in surprise. "I’m fine, really. I don’t need—"

"Take it," he interrupted, his gaze steady.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the coat, wrapping it around yourself. It was far too big on you, but it was warm, and the subtle scent of him clung to the fabric. The same scent that had distracted you earlier in his office now enveloped you completely, and it made your heart race all over again.

"Thanks," you mumbled, adjusting the coat around your shoulders.

He simply nodded, and the two of you continued walking in silence. The tension between you had shifted, but it was still there, just beneath the surface, and as you parted ways at the end of the path, you couldn’t help but wonder—was he thinking about you the way you were thinking about him? Did he know?

As you watched him walk away, the weight of his coat on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, like it carried with it all the unspoken words and lingering tension between you.

As you walk home, the weight of Alhaitham's coat feels heavier than it should, not just physically, but emotionally. The warmth still clings to you, along with that subtle, distinct scent that belongs to him—earthy, clean, and with just a hint of spice. It feels oddly intimate, like a lingering piece of him you hadn't expected to carry home with you. Each step you take, wrapped in his coat, makes you more aware of its significance. It’s just a piece of fabric, but the way it rests on your shoulders, warm and protective, makes it feel like more than that.

When you finally reach your apartment, you sigh, pulling the keys from your bag. Inside, you place the bag of takeout on the table with little care, too tired and too distracted to do anything but collapse for a moment. You peel off the coat, draping it on the couch, and immediately feel the loss of warmth as it leaves your shoulders. For a brief moment, you consider folding it neatly, but instead, you leave it there, trying to detach yourself from the way your thoughts kept wandering to him—your arrogant, handsome professor.

You settle at the table, opening the takeout container as your mind drifts back to the way he had looked at you earlier in his office. That gaze of his—intense, intelligent, and just a little too observant—had lingered far too long. You shake your head, trying to focus on eating, but it’s impossible. His voice, his presence, the feeling of his hand patting your head—it all keeps pulling you back.

You finish eating faster than usual, your thoughts occupied with him the entire time. As you pick up the coat from the couch to take it to your room, you catch a whiff of his scent again. You freeze, the familiar scent sending your mind spiraling into thoughts you shouldn’t be having. Images flash through your mind—his tall, strong build, the way he had stood so close behind you, his fingers brushing yours when you reached for that book. The fog of those inappropriate thoughts clouds your mind, and for a brief moment, you can’t stop wondering what it would feel like to be closer to him, how he looked under that dress shirt he wore today.

Shaking your head quickly, you scold yourself, forcing those thoughts away as you hang the coat in your cupboard, making a mental note not to forget it tomorrow. You won’t let it cloud your judgment any further. You take a deep breath, pushing those thoughts out of your head as you begin getting ready for your cam session.

As you're about to log in, your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from the screen. You grab it, expecting some usual notification, but your eyes widen slightly when you see the message is from Alhaitham. You hadn’t even realized he had your number—until now.

Alhaitham: I got your number from the system. You’ll need to make a vocabulary list for the first-year lecture tomorrow. I’ve attached some resources to help. Be sure to finish this before class.

You groan, dropping your phone onto the bed. Of course, he’d send you more work just when you were about to start your cam session. You sigh deeply, throwing yourself back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. There’s no avoiding it—he's your professor, and as much as he irritates you with his superior attitude, you can't ignore his requests.

Sitting up, you rub your temples and switch gears, deciding to get the task done first. As much as you’d rather jump into your session, you can’t afford to leave it undone. You spend the next hour or so compiling the list, working through the vocabulary terms as your mind buzzes with thoughts of how annoyingly persistent Alhaitham is. He always seems to know just when to give you extra work, like he's testing your patience on purpose.

By the time you finally finish, it’s much later than you'd planned. 

You noticed something different as you scrolled through your cam site, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. User1102 didn’t show up tonight. In fact, he hadn’t for the past few nights. A wave of disappointment washed over you, though you weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t like you knew who he was. But still, he had always been there, watching, engaging, giving you a sense of consistency. Now, his absence felt louder than the other users’ presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sadness.

Shaking off the thought, you closed your laptop and leaned back. It was just a coincidence, right? People came and went all the time on these sites. But as you prepared for bed, you found your mind wandering to him—wondering why he wasn’t there, wondering who he really was. Little did you know, Alhaitham had been avoiding the site ever since the first lecture.

It has now been nearly two weeks. From those two weeks you only spent about 6 days after lessons in his office helping with filling forms. You had gotten used to your routine with your professor, he gives you work to do, you do it and if he feels 'generous' he gives you a thick stack of papers to mark, now handing you long essays that make your brain ache. 

You noted that there was still an awkward tension between the two of you, he seemed to want to avoid you as much as possible. When you are alone with him, he would sit far from you but you could feel his sharp eyes on you from time to time. 

One of the days you wore a short skirt, the skirt was going to shorten Alhaitham's life. It showed your supple thighs, a pen fell. Cliché but you of course had to bend down to pick the pen in front of your poor professor who caught sight of your pure white cotton underwear.

 This lead to him dismissing you harshly to go home early. Poor little you thought you did something wrong, so the next day you went to apologize to him for anything you had done to annoy him, this caused the arrogant professor's heart to skip a beat, from that day on he started to talk to you in a calm tone. Alhaitham noticed you thrived on praises.

He once slipped and had called you a 'good girl' and gave your head a gentle pat, when you had completed a whole pile of essays, each one checked properly. Your face turned a pretty shade of pink. 

The words "t-thank you professor" stumbling out of your plump lips, this left Alhaitham's imagination to go wild that night, jerking off to his sweet student, who has such an innocent facade when she is fully clothed but when she is bathed in the LED lights of her room and wearing a sheer outfit..the innocence long gone.

 Alhaitham however, did stop watching her session as much as it pained him but he felt guilty to watch you now, knowing that you're his student and he is your professor..however the idea of bending you on the very desk the both of you shared always crosses his mind. 

It was the end of another long day, and you were packing up the last of your things in Alhaitham's office when you noticed the rain pouring outside, drumming steadily against the windows. The thought of walking home in that downpour made you shiver, and to make matters worse, you had forgotten your jacket. Again.

As you stood there, awkwardly rubbing your arms for warmth, Alhaitham appeared in the doorway. His expression was, as usual, unreadable, but his sharp eyes quickly assessed the situation.

“You forgot your jacket again,” he observed, his voice low and calm.

You gave a sheepish nod, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, seems to be a habit at this point.”

Without a word, he slipped off his coat—the one he always wore that made him seem so imposing—and handed it to you. The fabric was still warm from his body, the faint smell of his cologne lingering on it. You hesitated for a moment, but the cold air persuaded you to accept it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you murmured, slipping the jacket over your shoulders. It was far too big, enveloping you in its warmth.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes lingering on you, though his face remained stoic. “You shouldn’t walk in the rain like this. I’ll drive you home.”

You blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, already making his way towards the door.You reluctantly, following him, it was clear he wasn’t letting you walk in the rain tonight.

Outside, the rain had picked up, and you were more than a little relieved that Alhaitham had offered a ride. But what you hadn’t expected was the sleek black sports car waiting for you in the lot. Your eyes widened as he unlocked the doors with a soft click.

“This is your car?” you asked, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Yes,” he replied simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You slid into the passenger seat, feeling slightly out of place in such an expensive, low-riding car. The leather seats were cool against your skin, and the interior was immaculate. Alhaitham climbed in beside you, starting the engine with a soft purr. The sound sent a shiver through you, though you weren’t sure if it was the car or just the fact that you were sitting so close to him.

As he drove, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he handled the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a practiced ease, and his posture was relaxed, but there was a certain control in every movement. You found yourself stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering in a way that felt all too unfamiliar. The rain blurred the world outside, making the inside of the car feel small, intimate.

Your thoughts began to wander, and before you could stop them, you found yourself admiring the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes stayed focused on the road with that quiet intensity he always had. Everything about him seemed so… controlled, so perfect.

You bit your lip, trying to push the thoughts away. This was your professor, after all. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart sped up each time you caught a glimpse of him.

As if sensing your gaze, he cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving the road. “You’re quiet.”

You blinked, feeling caught. “Oh, sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?” he asked, though his tone didn’t push for an answer.

“Nothing important,” you mumbled, feeling your face grow warm.

The silence returned, heavy with tension, and you found yourself growing more aware of how small you felt in his car. Every bump in the road seemed to jolt your heart, especially with the way he drove—smooth, fast, and with a precision that made you feel oddly vulnerable.

Finally, he pulled up outside your apartment building. T.he downpour was relentless, heavy raindrops hammering against the sleek black car as you sat next to Alhaitham. The windscreen wipers were moving fast, but it was as if the rain refused to let up, trapping you both in the warmth of the vehicle.

You glanced outside, watching the rain blur the streetlights into hazy orbs of light. "I guess I should go," you murmured, though you didn’t make any move to open the door.

Alhaitham's hand remained on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the rain. "Wait," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It's coming down too hard. You’ll be drenched in seconds."

You looked at him, startled by his concern. His expression was unreadable as always, but there was something about the way his gaze softened as it shifted from the rain to you. The inside of the car felt too small suddenly, the air charged with something more than just the weather outside.

"You're right," you agreed quietly, settling back into the seat, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The silence stretched between you, the sound of rain enveloping the car in a bubble of quiet tension.

After a few moments, Alhaitham spoke, his voice breaking through the soft patter of the storm. "You don’t mind waiting, do you?"

You shook your head. "No… not at all."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked out at the rain again. "I’ve never really liked storms," he confessed. "Too unpredictable. But I guess that’s what makes them interesting, isn’t it?"

The unexpected admission surprised you. Alhaitham was always so composed, always so in control. Hearing him speak of unpredictability was strange, almost like he was revealing a part of himself he usually kept hidden.

"I suppose," you replied, your voice softer now, feeling the undercurrent of something deeper. "But sometimes, unpredictability can be… exciting."

His eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable passing through them. "Exciting?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah. It keeps things from becoming too… predictable."

The corners of his lips lifted slightly, a barely-there smile, but it sent a rush of warmth through you. His hand shifted on the gearstick, fingers brushing lightly against yours as you moved to rest your hand on your lap. The touch was so fleeting, so subtle, yet it made your pulse quicken.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice low. "Do you like storms?"

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement, every breath. "I… don’t mind them. I think they can be beautiful. Powerful."

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. "Powerful, yes."

There was a pause, and then he added, "But dangerous too."

You felt the weight of his words, the way they seemed to carry a deeper meaning, one that made your heart pound in your chest. The rain continued to pour, but the world outside felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man sitting beside you, his voice, his presence.

"I guess," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "there’s beauty in danger too."

His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening as if your words struck something within him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, the air between you charged with an almost unbearable tension.

"You have a unique way of looking at things," he said finally, his voice so low it sent a shiver down your spine. "I’ve noticed that about you."

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment. "Oh… I—thank you."

The rain began to lighten, the heavy downpour turning into a soft drizzle. Alhaitham shifted in his seat, but he didn’t start the car. Instead, his eyes remained on you, as if searching for something in your expression.

"Why are you always walking in the rain without a coat?" he asked, his tone almost teasing now. "You’ll catch a cold one day."

He was referring to the few mornings you entered lectures soaking like a drowned rat, either the coat your wore just got soaked completely through or you were rushing and forgot half of yourself back at home.

You let out a small laugh, though your heart was still pounding. "I… don’t know. I guess I never really think about it. Besides, it’s not that bad."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not that bad? You’re soaked every time."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but the way he was looking at you made your mind fuzzy. "Maybe I like the rain."

His lips quirked again, and he reached for the coat you he let you borrow before. "Keep it," he said, draping it over your lap again, the fabric warm from his touch. "I’d rather not see you walking around soaked again."

You stared at the coat, your throat tightening. His jacket smelled faintly of him, a comforting, subtle scent. Your fingers gripped the edges of the fabric, feeling overwhelmed by the simple act of kindness.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft patter of rain.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, watching you for a moment longer before speaking again, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You look good in it," he said, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks flush.

Your breath caught, heat flooding your face. You tried to laugh it off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight. "I—uh, thanks."

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle now, but neither of you moved to leave the car. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, yet you didn’t want it to end. The closeness, the warmth—it was too intoxicating.

Finally, you cleared your throat, trying to break the spell. "I guess… I should go."

Alhaitham nodded, but before you could open the door, his voice stopped you. "Goodnight," he said, his tone softer than you had ever heard it. "And… be careful."

That did it. You felt your face heat up instantly, the blush spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. You couldn’t even look at him, your fingers clutching the coat tighter as you fumbled for the door handle but you sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Goodnight… Alhaitham," you whispered, using his name for the first time.

The way his eyes flickered at the sound of his name on your lips made your stomach flip, but you quickly slipped out of the car before you could lose your nerve and correct yourself. You hurried towards your apartment, the drizzle cooling your flushed cheeks, but your thoughts were spinning.

 As you walked toward your apartment, your heart pounded in your chest, every step making you more flustered. You could feel his eyes on you still, even with your back turned. When you finally reached the stairs, you hesitated, glancing back. His car was still there, the engine quietly humming, headlights cutting through the rain.

He was waiting.

You quickly turned back around, your blush intensifying as you hurried up the stairs, fumbling with your keys. Once inside, you shut the door and leaned against it, breathless and heart racing.

He waited.

The thought made your head spin. Alhaitham—the cold, composed, seemingly distant professor—had waited to make sure you got inside safely. Your mind was racing, overwhelmed by the sudden realization that had been building for days, weeks even.

You had a massive crush on him.

Without even thinking, you peeped through the curtains, just in time to see him drive off into the night, his sleek car disappearing into the rain. You slid down to the floor, your face burning as you pressed your hands against your cheeks, trying to calm the dizzying flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

He’s so… You bit your lip, a small, giddy smile breaking through despite yourself. He’s such a gentleman.

Sitting there in the quiet of your apartment, wrapped in his coat, you couldn’t stop thinking about him—how impossibly perfect he seemed. You had no idea what this all meant, but one thing was certain: you were in deep.

Two days had passed since Alhaitham had dropped you off after that nerve-wracking yet thrilling encounter. Your heart still fluttered at the thought of him—both your professor and the enigmatic man who had captivated your attention in ways you never anticipated.

As you wrapped up your work in the office, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the windows. You sorted through your notes, the soft rustle of paper providing a comforting background noise. Just as you were about to leave, you caught sight of Alhaitham leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a relaxed smile on his face that sent a flutter through your stomach.

“[your name]” he called, his voice smooth and inviting, laced with an undertone of warmth. “Are you ready to head home? I can drop you off”

You glanced up, feeling your cheeks heat slightly. “No need, sir. I can manage on my own.”

His expression shifted, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint frown. “I’ve kept you late too often lately. It’s only fair that I take you home.”

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one clouding your judgment. He’s your professor, you reminded yourself, a few years older than you and incredibly accomplished. Why would he want to spend time with someone like you? Surely he could find someone more suitable—someone his age, someone more… refined. But his persistence won out, and you found yourself nodding.

As you both stepped outside, the evening air was refreshingly cool. The slight breeze played with your hair as you walked side by side to his car, your hearts beating faster with the thrill of being alone together. The tension hung thick in the air, each shared glance igniting sparks between you.

“You’ve been a great help lately,” he began once the both of you entered the car, his tone light yet earnest. “I thought it would be nice to treat you to dinner. There’s a little place nearby that I think you’d enjoy.”

Your heart skipped at the thought. “You didn’t have to do that, Professor.”

He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I wanted to.”

The two of you arrived at the quaint little restaurant, a cozy atmosphere that felt intimate despite its bustling clientele. Alhaitham held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, feeling like a whirlwind of emotions. The soft chatter around you was comforting, but your focus remained on him.

Seated across from each other, you took a moment to appreciate how he looked in the warm light—his hair perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline accentuated by the soft glow. He was undeniably handsome, and it made you feel small in the best way possible. As he ordered a drink, you noticed the way his hands moved—confident, graceful, and somehow incredibly alluring.

When the server brought out your meals, Alhaitham’s knee brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. You tried to play it cool, but you could feel the heat radiating from where your legs met. “Here,” he said, nudging a plate toward you. “You have to try this. It’s my favorite.”

You took a bite, and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is amazing!” you exclaimed, not realizing how close you were leaning over the table.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “What about this? Have you tried it before?” He gestured to the dish in front of him, inviting you to share in the moment.

You both ended up sharing food, your hands brushing together as you reached for the same dish, an electric charge buzzing in the air between you. Every fleeting touch felt like a promise, igniting your heart and muddling your thoughts. As you took a sip of his beer, you grimaced at the bitter taste, wrinkling your nose in displeasure.

“This is horrible!” you laughed, unable to contain your reaction. “How do people drink this stuff?”

Alhaitham chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. “Not everyone has your refined palate, apparently.” He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from the same glass, unbothered by the lipstick stains you left behind.

Your heart raced at the implication, and for a moment, the world around you faded. Was this an indirect kiss? You felt dizzy, the beer mixing with the heat of the moment, leaving you in a haze. The air crackled with tension, and you found yourself leaning closer, your pinkies almost touching on the table.

As the evening progressed, you became more aware of the way you bumped shoulders while walking out of the restaurant, how his hand would occasionally brush against yours. You couldn’t help but think about how Alhaitham would make the perfect boyfriend. A man who was intelligent, considerate, and undeniably charming.

But you shook those thoughts away, reminding yourself of the reality: he was your professor, an accomplished linguist, and you were just a cam girl with secrets. Still, the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—made your heart flutter, and you found it harder to resist the allure of what could be. 

The drive to your apartment was a light hearted one as you reached your apartment building, Alhaitham paused, turning to face you. “Thank you for your help today, [Your name]. I appreciate it,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Thank you, Professor Alhaitham,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you.

“Alhaitham is just fine,” he corrected softly, his gaze lingering on you.

With a nervous smile, you nodded, feeling like you were crossing some invisible line. “Alright, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping back as you watched him turn to leave.

But as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, your heart raced, and your thoughts swirled with excitement and confusion. You peeked through the curtains and saw him still parked there, and your cheeks flushed at the thought of his caring presence as you watched the car start to leave and fade away into the distance.

With a heavy sigh, you sank to the floor, your back against the wall, your mind racing as you realized you had developed a big fat crush on your handsome linguistic professor.

That dinner had been a whirlwind of emotions, and just when you thought the evening would settle, reality hit you like a wave.

You glanced around your apartment, noticing the bills piled on your desk and the ever-present worry about your finances creeping back in. You sighed, frustration bubbling inside you. Money was running low, and you knew what that meant. You had to do a cam session tonight.

Reluctantly, you shuffled to your room and changed into your outfit. You picked out a set of teal lingerie, the fabric soft against your skin, accentuating your curves in a way that made you feel both confident and exposed. As you slipped into the delicate pieces, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The bold colour brought out the warmth in your skin, and for a moment, you felt beautiful.

You quickly set up your camera and adjusted the lighting, trying to create the perfect ambiance. The familiar rush of excitement and nerves tingled in your stomach as you prepared to go live. With one last deep breath, you clicked the button to start the stream, greeting your audience with a sultry smile.

Minutes passed, and you fell into your routine, losing yourself in the performance. You teased and interacted with your viewers, each comment igniting a spark within you. You knew the thrill of being seen, desired, and appreciated, even if it felt like a secret life hidden from everyone else.

Just as you started to really get into it, a notification popped up. You glanced at the screen, and your heart dropped. 

User1102 has joined the stream.

You felt a familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach but brushed it aside, focusing on your performance. 

You just wanted to do something simple tonight, quickly. You pushed the small fabric that covered your mound, your fingers immediately went below, rubbing slow circles along your clit as your other hand groped at your covered chest. You let your eyes flutter, the image of Alhaitham's half-lidded gaze falls on you, a soft moan leaving past your parted lips. Your mind remembering every detail of his fingers. Strong and thick. You inserted two fingers into your soaking cunt, imagining your professor's fingers sinking within you feeling your walls flutter against him. Your mind remembering the smell of him, the warmth he radiated, his fleeting touches and the way he stared at you. A sob mixed with a moan leaves past your lips, your back aching off the bed adding more to your pleasure. 

His beautiful face came into view, you wondered how his tongue will feel agaisnt your neck, his large hands roaming your body, corrupting your body. The sudden image of you sprawled on his office desk came to mind, your fingers moving even faster, your sleek dripping onto the sheets, clit twitch as you squeezed your left breast Alhaitham's big hand squeezing it instead.

Then, without thinking, you let slip the words you never thought you’d say. “Ah, Pr-professor!” Your heart dropped as you realized what you had just said but your hand seemed to move faster, your toes curling in pleasure.

On the other side of the screen, Alhaitham’s eyes widened, shock and disbelief washing over him. He said he wasn't going to join your sessions again but tonight he was so allured by you, he missed you and wanted to see you again and just by luck you were live, but now hearing you call out his title made him groan, a mix of arousal and confusion coursing through him, his hand gripping tightly onto his cock as he starts to move his hand up and down fast, imagining that your tight hole was his hand instead. 

The sight of you in that teal lingerie, completely lost in your own world, only fueled his desires. He had thought about you too many times since that dinner, and now, knowing you were unknowingly calling out to him while you were so vulnerable, his mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Your voice continued, unaware of the effect you were having on him. “I-I can’t help it… I need more.” You cried out, your thighs trembling from pleasure. 

Alhaitham clenched his jaw, the tension building within him. The line between your two worlds had just blurred, and he found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he never anticipated. Did you really see him as a professor, or was there something more there?

You finally looked up at the camera, your eyes making contact with his teal ones as if you knew he was watching you a shaky sob escapes past your lips.

"Alha-AHH" the words that wanted to leave your mouth got cut short as your screamed from the suddenly immense of pleasure your brought yourself, you squirted. The clear fluid drenching your sheets and thighs as your fingers still moved in you to ride off your high.

Alhaitham's eyes widen at the words that wanted to leave his mouth. Was you about to say his name ? This caused his red tip to explode with cum, his release coming down in thick blobs as it ran down his hand that still moved up and down his overstimulated dick, his eyes blurry, body sweating from the intensity of his orgasm, a lazy smile itched on his face. His hand slowly coming to a still, his eyes darken as he watches you pull your fingers out and lick them. Your breathing erratic as your mind was jumbled as you thought that you had came just at the mere thought of your professor—your feelings for him swirling panic coursing through your veins as you registered the thin line that now separated your real life from your hidden desires for him. 

 Alhaitham tapped in 1000$ and sent it to you, closing the stream with a final click. His eyes remained shadowed, and his heart pounded erratically.

Oh he can't wait to see you tomorrow. 

Part 3

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.” 

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?” 

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door. 

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!” 

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner. 

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega. 

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know. 

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door. 

It’s going to be a long week. 

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent. 

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller. 

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged. 

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat. 

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much. 

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things. 

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?” 

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.” 

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.” 

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?” 

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.” 

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks. 

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom. 

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom. 

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.” 

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable. 

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.” 

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips. 

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.” 

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert. 

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up. 

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort. 

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room. 

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega. 

Their omega. 

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient. 

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right. 

Maybe they did need you after all. 

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water. 

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while. 

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back. 

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.” 

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?” 

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.” 

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.” 

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both. 

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?” 

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room. 

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest. 

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips. 

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back. 

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain. 

You went into heat. 

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark. 

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over. 

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs. 

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears. 

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week. 

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort. 

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this. 

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence. 

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?” 

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb. 

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.” 

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure. 

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.” 

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks. 

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.” 

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.” 

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done. 

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.” 

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all. 

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him. 

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.” 

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could. 

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks. 

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again. 

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant. 

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks. 

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame. 

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face. 

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days. 

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?” 

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.” 

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall. 

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw. 

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside. 

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.” 

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent. 

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases. 

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through. 

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in. 

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-” 

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.” 

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.” 

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible. 

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh. 

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.” 

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still. 

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-” 

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face. 

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.” 

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it. 

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta. 

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.” 

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees. 

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” 

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha. 

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.” 

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it. 

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says. 

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s. 

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks. 

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole. 

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass. 

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.” 

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.” 

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either. 

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before. 

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets. 

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again. 

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again. 

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.” 

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.” 

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank. 

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again. 

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further. 

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.” 

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise. 

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.” 

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more. 

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!” 

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is. 

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!” 

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done. 

They’re both in for a long night. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 1/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: hi friends !! wow, been a hot min since i wrote something of this caliber. feels good to be back in biz ;D did you all miss persephone! suguru? because there's a LOT of him here >_< i really wanted to publish this as a oneshot but....tumblr hates me so now it's gonna be a chaptered series! oh , joy! ps @nappingmoon i got u bae, this one is for you.

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you never really set out to be the face of smut-lit. 

in fact, you weren’t even really a face at all — just a “faceless” author penning scandalous stories for fans who devoured them, and haters who, well… tried to eat you alive.

you’d started out innocently enough, scribbling down your little fantasies and tropes that no self-respecting romance book would touch. then one day, a friend dared you to post one on booktok. 

you thought, "fuck it" and uploaded a snippet of your latest brainchild: a steamy billionaire x star-crossed chef fic called hunger games: not that kind of hungerer. it was, admittedly, extra spicy. 

and oh, did the internet have thoughts.

soon, your comments section and dm’s became a battleground for all opinions on “what qualifies as literature.” gems included:

who even writes this crap? did a middle schooler steal her mom’s laptop? i can feel my brain cells self-destructing as i read this 💀 girl hasn’t even been within a mile radius of a dick and it SHOWS

you'd had to admit… the last comment was right. but hey, they only added to the fuel. 

like moths to a flame, they kept coming back, and the trolling just made your followers skyrocket. a lot of people secretly liked the outrageousness, the drama, and the absolute audacity of it all. before long, your books were trending, and you were raking in numbers (and dollars) most “serious” authors could only dream of.

soon, you found yourself the subject of headlines you never thought you’d see:

the faceless queen of spice: how one unknown author is reshaping romance. trolled online, loved in secret—author sells millions in ebook downloads. social media says she has no idea what she’s talking about, but her bank account says otherwise.

and the kicker?

you’d never had sex with anyone, let alone…well, rocked worlds like your characters. 

here you were, a smut writer with zero real-life experience, who’d single-handedly created booktok’s, bookstagram and hell, even the people down at twitter's guilty pleasure.

but the day big publishers started knocking on your door, it was surreal, to say the least. 

you’d been fully prepared for the anonymous online fame — hell, you’d leaned into it, posting “faceless author life” videos and doing question and answer sessions where you dropped zero identifying details, save for some vague hand gestures and blurred-out backgrounds. but now, major publishing houses wanted in on the action.

“we think your stories have broad market appeal,” one exec had said on a zoom call, trying to make “billionaire mafia love quadrangle” sound dignified. “if we could get them on shelves, we’d reach an audience beyond booktok. international appeal is the goal here!”

suddenly, your filthy, albeit occasionally cringey, tales were going global. they got translated into french (where your enemies-to-lovers series got a fancy new title: l’amour et la haine). your spicy chef saga was reborn in italian as sapore di te, which roughly translated to taste of you (and made you blush, honestly). 

and when your personal favorite, the billionaire’s forbidden touch, hit the japanese market, they titled it 禁断の夜 (which… you didn’t even want to know the translation of, because you knew it was even worse than the original).

you had to admit, though, seeing these books spread worldwide made your head spin. what started as a joke online was now somehow sitting next to classics in international bookstores, becoming a hot commodity for fans everywhere.

but the cherry on top? 

oh, that came when you opened an email from none other than gojo-sonic, the world-renowned audio company best known for its highly specialized audiobook recordings. they’d taken smut literature to the next level, hiring voice actors who sounded like they were in the room with you, all breathy whispers and seductive baritones. people had raved that these audiobooks were “too real” — like they’d been recorded in a closed room with dim lights and a whole lot of… commitment.

they offered you a multi-million dollar deal to turn your books into experiences.

one of your friends, absolutely losing it, texted you as soon as they heard the news:

homegirl [5:21 pm]: “OMG OMG so you’re gonna do it right?? u realize this means ppl will be hearing ur lil virgin brain’s fantasies out loud in their headphones right” you [5:21 pm]: “no kidding. i’m freaking out. this feels illegal.” homegirl [5:22 pm]: “but u gotta!! pls this is ICONIC.” you [5:24 pm]: “they’re giving me millions. you think i’m saying no? lmao.”

it still felt surreal that soon, the whole world would hear your books come to life with professional voice actors — ones who knew exactly how to tease and breathe and make listeners feel like they were right there.

“bring my fantasies to life, huh?” you muttered to yourself, flipping through the contract that would secure your financial future, all because of your fictional men and their, uh, moves. 

who the hell were you to say no to that?

it was surreal enough to get an email from gojo-sonic, but now, sitting across from the ceo himself, gojo satoru, you were starting to wonder if this whole experience was some fever dream.

the man was stunning in an obnoxious, immaculate way. snowy hair, piercing blue eyes, and sunglasses balanced on his head like a headband. and, okay, you had to admit: it was a little weird that he’d named his company after himself — though, frankly, it just fit.

you tried not to laugh when he introduced himself. gojo satoru, ceo of gojo-sonic. the narcissism was off the charts, but so was his charm. as a quick google search before the meeting had revealed, gojo sonic had an impeccable reputation, and there was apparently not a single scandal tied to its name.

“nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand and trying to keep your cool. “kinda surprised a guy is running a… company like this. no offense.”

“none taken!” he replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “if i’m honest, i’m probably the last guy anyone would expect here. but,” he shrugged, “it works. my employees say i’m a ‘girl’s girl,’ whatever that means.”

the way he said it so nonchalantly made you smirk. apparently, the term wasn’t a throwaway nickname, either; the gojo-sonic gossip mill painted him as the absolute dream boss. rumor had it he’d given his whole office a free day off because his assistant had been dumped, and when a writer complained about unisex bathrooms making her uncomfortable, he’d personally had a “feminine touch” added to every single stall, complete with pink hand soap and luxurious lotions. he was kind, considerate, a man who just got it.

“people say i’m probably gay,” he added, laughing as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “and you know what? let ‘em think what they want.” he gave you a wink. “as long as they keep buying the goods, i couldn’t care less.”

honestly? the guy made a point. did it matter who he was taking home at the end of the day? not at all, as long as your bank account kept racking up zeros.

“speaking of,” he continued, “we’ve got the full studio ready for tomorrow. you’ll meet the voice actors, go over a few sections, and give input as needed. think of it like a live theater production, except it’s your book.”

“oh, i get to… watch them record?” you asked, wondering how mortifying it might be to sit there, watching actors give their all to lines like, “you’re mine tonight, darling.” 

yeah, you’d written it, but watching someone breathe life into it was a different level of… embarrassment.

“even better,” gojo grinned, looking far too amused by your nervousness, “you’ll get to guide them. they’ll take direction from you — however you want the line delivered, that’s how they’ll say it.”

“you mean i can… like… make suggestions? on delivery?”

“exactly!” he said with a small clap. “we want it to be perfect. i’ve already arranged for our top voice actor, toji fushiguro, to voice your main character.”

toji fushiguro?

if gojo-sonic was the industry’s top company, toji was the crown jewel of voice acting. the guy was a legend. 

he had that smoky, velvet tone that could turn a mundane grocery list into a full-on romance scene. he was also notoriously elusive; some people waited months to get him to even consider their projects. and you — the virgin author who’d stumbled into fame thanks to trolls and booktok — had him voicing your main character?

“wait, toji fushiguro is doing this?” you asked, jaw practically on the floor.

gojo chuckled, looking far too pleased with your reaction. “yep! i think you two are going to work great together. he’s intense but flexible; really good at taking feedback.”

you tried to imagine giving feedback to toji fushiguro of all people. 

“um, maybe say ‘you’re mine’ with more… conviction?” 

“can you sound a bit more possessive on that line?”

“i, uh…” you managed, trying to swallow your nerves. “okay. yeah. sounds… good.”

“great! i think you’ll be amazed. toji’s professionalism is unmatched, and he’ll bring exactly the level of…” Gojo paused, grinning, “intensity you need to really make your character come to life.”

“good luck tomorrow! i’ll make sure everything’s set up perfectly,” gojo had assured you with a big grin as you left the office. “don’t stress about a thing. our identities are always kept top secret here. toji’s included! he’s never done a face reveal, and your privacy is just as ironclad.”

oh god. tomorrow, you were really going to sit there while toji fushiguro acted out lines you’d written on a whim in your pajamas.

sure, not stressing sounded like a logical plan. but after that surreal conversation — and the realization that tomorrow morning, you’d be face-to-face with the one and only toji fushiguro, hearing him breathe life into your raunchiest fantasies — you did what any responsible, mature adult would do.

you headed straight to the nearest bar and got sloshed.

by the time you were three cocktails deep, the reality of tomorrow’s “firsts” hit you like a ton of bricks. first real direction on an audiobook, first time meeting a voice actor, first time dealing with your own steaminess out loud, and — oh god — the cherry on top, it was toji fushiguro himself.

sure, you thought, sipping from your fourth drink and trying not to scream as lana del rey sings “it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you,” i might be slightly freaking out.

another cocktail slid your way. you squinted, unsure if you'd ordered it or if the bartender was just reading your general mood, because yeah, you did look like someone who needed another round.

“tough night?”

“tough tomorrow.” you swirled your drink, laughing to yourself. “i mean… you ever written a, uh, totally inappropriate novel and had to watch a famous guy turn it into audio?”

“…can’t say that i have.”

you shrugged, downing a bit more of the drink, when the song on the speakers switched to avril lavigne’s complicated. fitting, given that your life had just become exactly that.

“why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” avril sang, like she knew.

the bartender, apparently used to the types who showed up for existential crises alone, leaned against the counter. “sounds like big stuff tomorrow, then. what kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“oh, just… smutty novels,” you said, letting it slip before you could stop yourself. “just… page after page of absolutely shameless, absurd filth. and now i’m, y’know, supposed to direct the guy. to make it sound like he’s really, um, in the moment.”

the bartender chuckled, raising a brow. “sounds intense.”

“you have no idea.” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “he’s this insanely talented voice actor. i mean, they’ve got toji fushiguro in there, which is like… god. if he knew who i actually was, he’d probably laugh.”

why’d you have to go and make things so complicated? avril continued wailing, her words your accidental anthem.

“well, whatever happens,” the bartender said, passing you a glass of water with a grin, “sounds like you’re about to have a pretty interesting morning.”

“i’ll drink to that,” you muttered, clinking your cocktail glass against the water. you downed it, hoping that somehow, it might chase the nerves away.

and as everytime we touch, i get this feeling started blasting on the speakers, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a groan. if there was a playlist made for romantic embarrassment, it was definitely playing tonight.

in your half-sloshed state, it seemed like a good idea to turn to the stranger who’d just sauntered up to the bar — a ridiculously hot stranger, tall with dark hair, and a scar slashing right across his lip. it was the kind of look that would’ve inspired an entire chapter in one of your books, but as of right now? it was just inspiring some truly regrettable choices.

“goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” you muttered to yourself, just loud enough to catch his attention, which felt smooth, in your totally buzzed opinion. so, of course, you swung around on your stool, plastering on what you hoped was an alluring smile.

oh god, here we go. “hey there, handsome…” you paused, hiccuping “… you come here often?”

the stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, leaning an elbow against the bar with a smirk that could kill. “depends,” he said, voice low and rough. “you, uh, always this friendly after a few drinks?”

oh god. 

oh god. 

but you couldn’t stop now. 

you were committed. 

you were bold. 

with all the poise of a drunk giraffe, you propped your elbow on the bar and leaned in closer, pointing a finger at his chest — totally unintentionally, because your depth perception was off by, oh, about a mile. “well, what can i say,” you replied, attempting a sultry grin. “good-lookin’ guys like you… don’t come around often enough, mister.”

“it’s like i’m drunk off your love,” played from the speakers, not helping your case at all. 

oh god, this was actually happening. 

he actually laughed, a warm, deep chuckle, as he watched you struggle through whatever pickup line was about to escape your lips.

he tilted his head, that smirk turning up a notch. “should i be flattered?”

“you should!” you exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “you’re like… i dunno, like one of my… you look like a… a fictional character.” 

smooth, real smooth.

“oh yeah?” his smirk widened. “so, what am i, a prince?”

“more like…” you bit your lip, trying to focus, “an antihero with a… tragic past and just enough softness in his heart to make him dangerous in all the right ways.”

he looked you up and down, bemusement clear in his eyes. “dangerous in the right ways? is that your type?”

you gave a shaky wink, nearly missing because the world was swimming a bit. “maybe.”

he chuckled, his voice all rich and velvety, and leaned in closer. “so… you’re here alone? i mean, besides all the fictional men you’re envisioning.”

“for now,” you replied, trying to sound mysterious, but it just came out as a bit… wobbly.

the bartender set the stranger’s drink down with a raised eyebrow, and he took a sip, watching you with amused interest. “you know, maybe you should slow down before you scare all the good guys away.”

“oh, trust me,” you replied, hiccuping again. “i don’t scare easy.”

he shook his head, clearly entertained, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze. you were about to continue — just as soon as the world stopped spinning — when you felt the slightest bit queasy, your stomach reminding you that you’d had one cocktail too many.

the stranger’s amused smirk softened. “you alright there?”

“i’m…” you swallowed. “perfectly fine. just, you know… making sure you’re… getting the full effect of my…” you barely managed the word “…rizz.”

he laughed outright this time, low and warm, like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were real. “is that so? lucky me.”

it was all going so well — okay, not well, but you were holding your own, kind of. you had him laughing, after all, which for someone with approximately zero charisma was an accomplishment! but then the first chords of firework by katy perry blared through the speakers, and as if on cue, your stomach decided to join in the grand finale.

“do you ever feel like a plastic bag,” katy crooned, but for you, it was more like a “do you ever feel like you’re about to ruin your night by barfing on a hot stranger?”

before you could process what was happening, the tequila-fueled fireworks decided to erupt all over this guy’s very expensive-looking shoes.

oh god. oh god.

you looked up, mortified, to find him staring down at his shoes, eyebrows raised. wow, would you look at the time? 

run.

“oh… oh no. i… i’m so sorry, i swear this never happens.”

he raised a brow, still looking somewhere between amused and horrified. “well, that’s… comforting?”

you grabbed a napkin, fumbling, still buzzing enough to not know if you should laugh, cry, or just make a run for it.

“guess that’s, uh, one way to make an impression,” he murmured, lips twitching in a smirk even as he assessed the disaster on his shoes.

“oh god. really, i’m… i’m so sorry.” you dabbed helplessly at his shoes with a cocktail napkin, somehow making things worse. “if it helps, i… i normally only vomit on hot guys.”

he chuckled, though you were sure it was mostly at you, and shook his head. “well, it’s one hell of an icebreaker.”

“baby, you’re a firework,” katy sang passionately in the background, but you were already ready to crawl under the bar and disappear forever.

you were surprised — actually, you were shocked — that the stranger hadn’t ditched you after the whole public-vomiting-on-his-shoes fiasco. instead, somehow, he was still right there, leaned in close and casually sipping his drink, just as much a mess as you were. hours had passed, and you’d been rambling about anything and everything, lost in an alcohol-fueled bubble that had turned the night into something you’d never have dreamed of.

maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the guy’s ridiculously calm attitude, but you’d opened up about your career, the absurdity of writing spicy novels as a faceless author, and even your terror about tomorrow. he’d listened with a smirk, offering the occasional snarky remark or grunt of approval. in return, he’d told you a bit about himself too — well, at least, you thought he did. at some point, the details got hazy.

“so, what do you do?” you asked, squinting at him like it was going to make his face stop swimming in your vision.

he shrugged, swirling his drink and giving a lopsided grin. “something kinda like… acting. you know, nothing glamorous.” there was a hint of amusement there, like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

you squinted harder, your mind pulling up images of random professions. “oh, so like… theater? or like, movies? or wait — commercials? are you one of those guys that has to pretend he’s in love with a bowl of soup?”

he let out a deep laugh, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “sure, something like that. though i’d like to think i’m a bit more convincing than a soup guy.”

you grinned, leaning in closer, your curiosity fully piqued despite your state. “convincing, huh? so you’re a good actor, then?”

“i do my best,” he said, voice low, that amused glint in his eye again.

“you have to be really good to make people believe in, like, totally unrealistic things, y’know?” you babbled, waving your hand. “like, imagine trying to voice —” you cut yourself off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you remembered why you’d gotten so sloshed in the first place. the irony of tomorrow, and how this entire conversation felt like it was straight out of one of your own stories.

but before you could get too in your head about it, he tilted his head, looking genuinely interested. “voice what? i’m curious, princess.”

princess. the nickname sent a bolt of something dangerously warm straight through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “oh, nothing…” you said, waving him off. “just, you know… the usual. people who… um, make people fall in love with their voice.”

“and what if i told you,” he leaned in even closer, smirking as if he’d just had the best idea ever, “that i could probably do that?”

you rolled your eyes, not believing him one bit. “oh really? think you could pull it off?”

“depends,” he said with a shrug. “what kinda character am i playing?”

you didn’t realize it, but you’d inched even closer, like you were hanging on his every word. “someone… someone rough around the edges,” you started, your voice dropping, completely lost in the moment, “but with a softness underneath. someone who could make the world stop with just a whisper…”

he smirked, eyes never leaving yours, and for a second, you felt like he was taking every word way too seriously. “i think i could manage that.”

you blinked, feeling a blush rise. 

this stranger had charisma — like, the kind of charisma you’d thought only existed in your characters. 

oh god, maybe you should write him into your next story. you shook yourself, blinking the daydreams away just as he started talking again.

“... and that’s why,” he was saying, “there’s a bit of an art to saying things just right. people think it’s all about the words, but it’s the way you say them that makes it real, y’know?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words as the room spun just a bit. “so you’re telling me, it’s all in the delivery?”

“exactly.” his gaze dropped to your lips, and he smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “even the… dirtiest lines sound good if you say ’em the right way.”

oh no. that dangerous warmth was back.

somewhere between his intense gaze and that slow, lopsided smirk, dancing queen by abba blared through the bar speakers, jarring you out of your tipsy trance. the upbeat, disco-infused rhythm filled the room, all but laughing at the “moment” you thought you were having with this too-hot-for-reality stranger.

was this a moment? or were you just ridiculously drunk? did he even have a name? or were you just too far gone to have bothered asking?

“you can dance, you can jive,” abba sang, practically mocking you as you stared, wide-eyed, at the man across from you, his scarred lip twisted in a little grin as he watched you piece it all together. he must’ve seen the dawning realization on your face, because he chuckled, reaching for his drink again.

“something wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning forward with a glint of amusement.

oh, great. i’ve already been promoted to ‘princess’ by a guy i might not know the name of. you were seconds away from facepalming.

“uh, nothing,” you said, waving a hand as casually as you could manage. “just, uh, thinking how ironic it is that dancing queen is playing while… we’re, you know…”

“... having a moment?” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“well,” you cleared your throat, cheeks blazing, “if you can call me drunkenly staring at you while abba serenades us a ‘moment.’”

“hey, it’s a solid soundtrack choice,” he replied, looking like he was suppressing a laugh. “besides, don’t pretend this isn’t kinda perfect.”

“you think dancing queen is perfect for this?”

he shrugged, sipping his drink. “come on, you’re hammered, i’m here keeping you company, and we’re both, what… living in the moment?” he quirked a brow, his smirk widening as he eyed you, like he was daring you to argue.

and then, maybe out of pure liquid courage, or maybe because the absurdity was too much, you laughed. “yeah, living the moment… with some guy whose name i don’t even know.”

“toji,” he said, offering his hand with a lazy grin, like he’d just handed you a secret.

“toji,” you echoed, shaking his hand. he held on for a second longer than necessary, his gaze never leaving yours.

 oh, this guy was trouble, and you were in so deep.

“and you?” he asked, still holding your hand.

you barely managed to whisper your name, but it came out like a sigh, and he repeated it back like it was something precious. “well then,” he said, smirking, “guess that makes two dancing queens tonight.”

“toji…” you muttered, the name slipping off your tongue again as you tried to place it. there was something familiar about it, like you’d heard it before, but in your tequila-drenched state, nothing was sticking. 

toji, toji… where had you heard that name?

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused as you stared at him like he was the world’s most frustrating puzzle. “something on your mind?”

“n-no,” you stammered, then immediately backpedaled. “wait, actually, yes. toji, right?”

he nodded, a playful gleam in his eye. “that’s the one.”

“toji… toji…” you repeated, squinting at him as if a clearer view would magically connect the dots. and then, it hit you — toji fushiguro. 

the voice actor who would be bringing your spicy, shamelessly dramatic main character to life. 

the same guy you were supposed to meet tomorrow, the guy who was probably used to making everyone’s knees buckle with just a whisper.

“no way…” you whispered, clutching your head, and you could practically feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. “you — you’re… that toji?”

he gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “what, surprised that i could be both hot and talented?”

you sputtered, trying to backtrack and failing miserably. “no! i mean, yes, but i just — tomorrow —  you’re… you’re the guy who’s voicing my main character?”

he leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the whirlwind of emotions he was putting you through. “didn’t think the universe would give you a sneak preview tonight, huh?”

your fuzzy brain struggled to compute this twist of fate. you were drunk, mortified, and beyond flustered, sitting in a bar with the man who’d soon be giving voice to all your filthy, shameless words. this was almost too much.

“oh my god,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i literally threw up on my main character’s shoes.”

toji let out a hearty laugh, patting your shoulder. “hey, if anything, i’d say it’s on-brand for the kind of night you’d write.”

just as you were processing the sheer, ridiculous insanity of the situation, a fresh wave of nausea hit you like a freight train. before you could even react, you leaned forward and… splattered the floor with a decidedly not-dignified stream of bile. this time, it was almost cinematic, complete with a dramatic gagging sound that had you doubling over.

you watched in horror as you once again spewed your insides onto the floor, narrowly missing toji’s shoes but definitely adding a new layer to the already mortifying scene. 

you’d probably just hit rock bottom.

“oh, god,” you groaned, covering your mouth with your hand as the bile burned your throat. “i swear… i’m not normally like this.”

toji chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he handed you a stack of napkins the bartender had generously supplied. “i’m starting to think i’m just a little too overwhelming for you, princess.”

you shot him a sheepish look as you wiped your mouth. overwhelming was an understatement. 

“yeah, maybe we can leave that out of tomorrow’s team introductions,” you mumbled, trying desperately to pull yourself together.

toji chuckled, tossing a few more napkins your way. “no judgment here. it’s a rough night for a first ‘meet-cute,’ but hey, you’re nothing if not memorable.”

you gripped the napkin, willing yourself to hold it together, at least until you could make a semi-dignified exit. “i don’t even want to know what story you’ll tell people about this.”

toji just laughed, completely unbothered, as if getting vomited on was a regular night for him. “don’t worry, i’ll keep it discreet.” his voice dipped, lowering to a murmur. “for a girl with secrets, i figure you’d appreciate that.”

he lifted his drink and gave you a small toast. “to first meetings — and unforgettable nights. and hey, maybe tomorrow, you’ll surprise me and keep it down.”

oh, god, you thought, as you attempted to bury yourself in your napkin. if only i could crawl under the bar and hide forever.

normally, you wouldn’t wake up with “dancing queen” stuck in your head, but as you nursed the remnants of a truly terrible hangover, it felt almost... pleasant? the upbeat melody cut through the fog of your brain, and you couldn’t help but hum along, even if the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of your embarrassing escapades from the night before.

“you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...”

wait, why dancing queen of all songs? you squinted at your alarm clock, your heart racing as the memories started flooding back like a poorly written rom-com. oh.

OH.

your eyes widened as you bolted out of bed with a speed that could make an olympic runner blush, frantically throwing on whatever clothes you could find — did you seriously still have a piece of glitter from last night stuck in your hair? gross! but no time for a shower; you had a meeting to get to at gojo-sonic, and you were about to meet — erm, remeet — toji fushiguro.

“ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...”

as the lyrics blared in your head like an incessant movie soundtrack, you dashed out the door, praying you’d catch a cab in time. the universe couldn’t possibly let you walk into this meeting looking like a hot mess — especially when your main character's voice was waiting on the other side.

“you’re a tease you turn ‘em on…leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone…”

you rolled your eyes at your own ridiculousness. who cared if you’d practically thrown up on the guy? all you had to do was survive your own personal dance-off with fate and hope toji didn’t remember the lovely little details from last night.

you took a deep breath, determined to channel all the confidence you could muster. today was going to be great. right?

as you walked into the meeting room, gojo practically huffed an air of relief. you couldn’t help but think it was a little dramatic — like, it’s just a meeting. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of your hangover and the lingering embarrassment of last night’s vomit-venture.

the room was brightly lit, filled with a few familiar faces, including toji, who was leaning casually against a table with that annoyingly charming grin plastered on his face. 

great. you’d somehow forgotten just how hot he was in the light of day. 

toji’s presence made your stomach flutter and flip, but you shoved that feeling down — this was business, after all.

you scanned the room and spotted gojo-sonic’s most valued investor suguru geto on a screen in the corner, his hair tied back and eyes sharp as he joined the meeting online. wow, great first impression! with a sudden wave of panic, you could almost hear the dancing queen lyrics mocking you in the back of your mind. what’s next, bursting into song?

“hey, look who finally made it!” toji said, amusement dancing in his eyes. perfect. if he was going to make light of your grand entrance, you had to think fast to steer the conversation away from the disaster that was last night.

“sorry for keeping you all waiting,” you replied, forcing a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced. “i had... a crazy night.”

toji raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “crazy night, huh? did you bring us any stories?”

you shot him a warning glance, your heart racing as you internally pleaded with him not to say anything that could ruin your career. thankfully, he just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back, letting the moment hang in the air without any revealing comments.

“i think we’d all like to hear that,” suguru said, his tone teasing as he adjusted the camera. “but let’s save the fun stuff for later, right? we’ve got work to do.”

you nodded, grateful for suguru’s timely intervention. “yes, absolutely! so, uh, about the voice work —”

the atmosphere shifted as the others exchanged knowing glances, and you knew you’d have to tread carefully. this meeting was crucial, and you couldn’t let last night’s incident derail everything you’d worked for. with any luck, maybe you could just keep your foot out of your mouth for the rest of the meeting.

toji always knew he was hot.

i mean, how could he not? 

with a jawline that could slice bread and a smirk that could charm the pants off anyone, confidence practically dripped off him like a cologne commercial. but the real question was: how to channel this hotness and turn it into something lucrative? great question! 

being a single dad to wasn’t easy, and running from odd job to odd job just to scrape enough money for the brat’s school was proving to be tiresome. until one day, a certain gojo satoru decided to drop a bombshell on him.

“toji, you ever think about using that voice of yours for something... more creative?” gojo asked, leaning back in his office chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“creative? what, like narrating my life as a sad single dad?” toji replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a page-turner.”

“no, no, hear me out!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing in his seat. “i’m talking about voice acting — specifically, erotic audiobooks. it’s the next big thing!”

toji blinked, momentarily stunned. “you mean to tell me that the former bouncer at an elite club would be voicing erotic audiobooks? saying those weird, cringey lines that women seem to love? you’re insane.”

“think about it! you have the looks, the voice, and the whole mysterious vibe down pat,” gojo urged, waving his hands dramatically. “besides, you need the cash, and i need someone to bring a little... heat to my company.”

“you really think people want to hear me read lines like, ‘take me, you wild beast?’” toji quipped, snorting.

fast forward to his first recording session, where everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck. toji was deep in character, delivering his best sexy voice when — bam! — the bathroom pipe exploded in his tiny flat.

“oh god, yes, just like that —” he started, voice dripping with sultry charm, when suddenly, a muffled splash! interrupted him, followed by megumi’s wail from the other room.

“dad! there’s water everywhere!”

toji cursed under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. “i’m coming! just... give me a second, i’m — ah, it’s getting so hot in here!” he struggled to continue, desperately trying to block out the chaos around him while the sounds of the pipe gushing water filled the audio.

but it turned out hormones took over the technical difficulties, because when the snippet was finally released, women and men of all ages were devouring it like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. it even went viral on tiktok, with cringe-worthy wannabes trying to recreate his sultry lines, failing miserably while toji sat back, amused.

“really? you think you can pull this off?” he chuckled to himself, watching one kid awkwardly mimic him. “nice try, kid. but good luck sounding this good while your mom’s screaming at you for hogging the bathroom.”

because toji wasn’t just a househusband — house father — anymore. he was a household name, and everyone knew him. his rise to fame was a wild ride, but hey, at least now he could afford to get the bathroom fixed — one line at a time.

he could hardly wrap his head around how he’d managed to move out of his tiny, crumbling apartment and into a much better place for him and megumi. it was like waking up one day and realizing he’d accidentally won the lottery. “wait, how did i end up here?” he’d mutter to himself, staring at the pristine walls and polished floors. “and how the hell can i pay megumi’s school fees on time without dodging dirty glares from the accounts office?”

he’d walk into the school, head held high, while megumi proudly puffed out his eight-year-old chest. “my daddy’s an actor!” he’d announce to anyone who would listen. toji couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. i mean, the kid wasn’t wrong. he was acting — acting like he had his life together, at least!

but did his new job stop toji from being a little hoe? oh, hell no. 

if anything, the fame went straight to his head — both up and down there, mind you. toji was like a kid in a candy store, and he was using his newfound charm to siphon money from literally every sugar mommy he could find. 

and daddies, too, if he was feeling daring. 

because people would die to be known as someone “close” to the toji fushiguro.

“oh my god, is that him?” a passerby would whisper, nudging her friend as they walked past toji at a private event.

“i think it is! i heard he’s dating someone famous,” her friend would respond, leaning in as if they were sharing a juicy secret. “i’ve seen him at that new club downtown. he’s just so... magnetic.”

“totally! i mean, if i could get him to call me ‘sweetheart’ just once, i’d die a happy woman,” the first friend would say, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

toji would smirk to himself, sipping his drink while casually overhearing their chatter. “yep, you’re right. i’m as available as a 24/7 convenience store,” he’d think, reveling in the attention. "i could probably charm the pants off a rock if i tried."

another group of giggling fans would walk by, whispering amongst themselves, “i met him at that charity event last week! he was so sweet! like, did you see the way he talked to everyone? he’s definitely a heartthrob.”

“sweet? you mean hot, right?” one of them would tease, and they’d all burst into laughter.

“please, if he looked at me, i’d die!” another would declare, all starry-eyed.

toji’s smirk widened. “keep it coming, ladies. i’m just here for the show.” he couldn’t deny it; being the center of attention was intoxicating, and he was loving every second of it.

with a wink and a little wave, he’d keep strutting through life like a runway model, knowing full well he had the power to turn heads and keep wallets open. “who knew being a hot voice actor could be this fun?”

great that you’d ask what toji did with all that sweet, sweet cash! save it all for his brat of a son, of course, even if he wouldn’t admit it. beneath that rugged exterior and playful swagger, he had a soft spot for the little sucker.

just the other week, megumi had been rambling on about wanting a really cool new video game console. “but daddy, alllll my friends have one! it’s so unfair!” he’d whined, big blue eyes practically shimmering with hope. toji had rolled his eyes, trying to act tough, but the moment he saw the kid's face, his heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. “fine, but only if you promise to finish your homework first.”

the next day, megumi had unwrapped a brand-new console, complete with all the latest games, and toji had basked in the sheer delight radiating from his son. “this is the best day ever!” megumi had screamed, wrapping his arms around toji’s waist. “thank you, daddy!”

toji grinned like an idiot, pretending to be unimpressed. “yeah, yeah, don’t go losing it on the first day, alright? and remember, no playing after eight!” he was basically a walking contradiction: a grumpy dad who secretly loved being the cool parent.

then there was that time megumi had been obsessed with this rare action figure from his favorite show. toji had seen the way his son’s eyes lit up every time he spotted it in a store, but it was always sold out. so, naturally, when toji found one online at a steep price, he didn’t hesitate. “i’ll just skip my overpriced rum for a week. totally worth it.”

when megumi had opened the package, he’d literally jumped in the air, screeching like a siren. “no way! you got it for me!?” and toji had played it cool, shrugging his shoulders. “what can i say? your dad’s a generous guy.”

of course, this indulgence didn’t go unnoticed by gojo satoru. the six eyes — er, eyes! — of the man always seemed to be on toji, especially when he noticed his friend was splurging just a little too much on himself — like that new leather jacket that looked ridiculously good on him. 

“i need a jacket like that,” gojo had muttered to himself, glancing at his own wardrobe with disappointment.

whenever toji treated himself, gojo would quietly slide a check over to him, nonchalantly muttering, “just a little something for megumi’s school expenses.”

some people would have viewed it as offensive or patronizing, but not toji. he’d always laughed it off, feeling grateful instead. in his mind, gojo was like a guardian angel — “if guardian angels wore sunglasses and had a taste for expensive sweets.” he saw it as gojo looking out for megumi, which made toji’s heart swell with warmth. “who else would want to help raise my kid? might as well accept it.”

“just don’t make a habit of it, alright?” toji would say with a teasing grin. “i don’t need you spoiling him more than i do.”

“too late,” gojo would quip, already plotting ways to sneak more gifts into megumi’s life. “it’s my new hobby.”

so, when gojo casually dropped the bomb that toji would be voicing one of the hottest, trending smut book — “mating with the demon king” or something equally ridiculous — toji shrugged it off. “simple enough job,” he thought. “and it must be good if they came to me for it.”

but when gojo suggested he read the book to get an idea of the material — “just a little prep work,” he’d said with that infuriatingly charming grin — things took a wild turn.

big mistake, toji would later reflect as he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows shooting up higher than a roller coaster. “who writes this stuff?” he muttered, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

the content was downright depraved. there were scenes that had him questioning his entire existence. 

“‘he thrust into her like a man possessed, each stroke igniting a fire within her’ — what even is that?” he read aloud, only to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. megumi, playing quietly in the other room, wondered why his daddy was cackling like a madman.

“uh, daddy? why are you reading that out loud?” megumi had peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity. toji quickly scrambled to shut the book. “uh, just… learning about, uh, cooking techniques!” he stammered, trying to play it cool. “you wouldn’t get it, buddy.”

but the laughter continued to bubble out of him, and he couldn’t help but read some of the more ludicrous lines. “‘his lips found her collarbone, trailing heat like a wildfire’ — who even talks like that?” he shook his head, utterly bemused.

by the end of the chapter, he was howling. “‘she gasped as he swept her off her feet and into a world of ecstasy’ — oh please!” toji chortled, clutching his stomach, imagining how this would all sound through a microphone. “my kid is gonna think i’ve lost my goddamn mind.”

but hey, if this job was going to pay the bills, he figured he could endure a little humiliation. “it’s all in a day’s work, right?” he muttered to himself, finally accepting that he was now the voice of “mating with the demon king.”

all that reading really took its toll on toji — physically, mentally, spiritually even. after hours spent tripping over lines like “pressed against the throbbing heat of his desire” (yeah, that one took five tries to get through without laughing), he needed to clear his head. so, he found himself at a bar, halfway through a drink, hoping to numb the embarrassment he’d just endured in the name of rent money.

then stumbles this stranger — a cute, very tipsy stranger who quickly parked herself right next to him and started chatting him up, wide-eyed and slightly unsteady. great, drunk people, he thought, resisting an eyeroll as she grinned at him, looking ready to either start a fight or profess her love. 

maybe both.

of course, what are the odds she’d go ahead and throw up on his shoes? yes, his brand-new shoes, because, apparently, the universe had decided that tonight, toji fushiguro would be the world’s personal punching bag. “can’t even get through one drink without some shit happening,” he muttered to himself as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. “we’re off to a great start here, huh?”

after some water and some awkward apologies (mostly her apologizing, mostly him trying not to laugh), they fell into surprisingly decent conversation. she was rambling about her job, the stress, the weird demands — stuff he could sympathize with, honestly. 

and that’s when he dropped it, just for fun: “i’m a voice actor.”

her eyes sparkled with recognition — a little too much recognition, actually, which made him narrow his eyes. “wait, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly all ears.

“toji. toji fushiguro.”

the second he said it, her face went from curious to horrified to... oh yeah, she knew exactly who he was. “wait,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “you’re... you’re the voice actor for my book.”

toji raised an eyebrow, deadpan. 

so this was the writer, the one who wrote all that nonsense he’d been struggling through for days. well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top. not only was this his boss but also the very person responsible for phrases like “pulsing need” and “moans spilling like honey.” and she’d just puked on him. 

talk about a power move.

“small world,” he said, his tone dry as desert sand. wonderful, he thought. my boss threw up on me. but, hey, the night was still young. 

he took a long sip from his drink, hoping she wouldn’t take this as an excuse to unleash some kind of creative critique.

“i... i didn’t know you’d be here,” she stammered, a shade redder than before, probably realizing what this made her look like — her, the lady behind the “throbbing heat of desire” shtick.

“don’t worry,” he said, giving her a smirk. “i won’t tell anyone the literary mastermind responsible for all that... romance has a weak stomach.”

you probably don’t remember much after you composed yourself following that second round of projectile embarrassment — but don’t worry, toji remembers. the man’s got a steel trap for the kinds of memories you’d prefer stayed buried. once he’d figured out that you weren’t exactly in shape to be left wandering around, he made the executive decision to get you home. yeah, he’d just met you a couple hours ago, but somehow, through the boozy haze and questionable life choices, he’d managed to catch your address. 

impressive detective work, really… or, well, you may have blurted it out mid-ramble about how “the streetlight outside is the only thing lighting up your lonely hallway.” 

a touch dramatic, but, hey, it worked.

so he got you back to your place (no thanks to the cab driver’s judgmental side-eye), got you up the stairs without you faceplanting, and, after propping you up long enough to unlock your door, he even went the extra mile and tucked you under the covers. you, meanwhile, mumbled something about “tequila being the devil,” blissfully oblivious to the poor guy who’d just witnessed more of your personal life than your closest friends. toji took one last look before heading out, chuckling to himself as you drifted off, probably already dreaming of whatever literary nonsense you’d be writing next.

but what really stuck with him? the damn “dancing queen” chorus ringing in his ears from the bar. maybe it was still playing somewhere out there in the night, or maybe you’d just cursed him with it. because as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets, there it was, looping over and over in his head. 

“you can dance… you can jive…” 

great, now he’d be humming it for days.

both you and toji were snapped back into the fluorescent-lit reality of the conference room, where gojo was still going on about… royalties? percentages? to be honest, the entire spiel sounded more like corporate white noise to you. 

toji, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, looking as disinterested as humanly possible without actually falling asleep. across the screen, suguru appeared in one of those stiff, all-business modes, nodding along to gojo’s speech. his eyes had that telltale sparkle that only appeared when money was the topic — “stakeholder perks,” as gojo would call it, though it just meant suguru got to rake in extra cash on the side.

“and once the audiobook’s live, the split from the sales will be recalculated quarterly, yadda yadda, yadaaa —” gojo’s voice broke into a sing-song, clearly amusing only himself. “anyway, you guys will see some real sweet checks from this.”

“royalties…” suguru interjected, a bit too smoothly, “remind me what those projected percentages were again, satoru?”

toji suppressed a snort. here they were, with the man himself who could barely be bothered to read a weather report straight, much less your raunchy magnum opus. good luck explaining earnings, gojo.

“oh yeah, royalties!” gojo cleared his throat, launching into a number-laden monologue that seemed to somehow both explain everything and nothing at once. toji barely listened, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. it was only when gojo pivoted, with a suddenly very pointed look, that toji actually tuned back in.

“so, did everyone do their, ah, homework?” gojo grinned as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on you with a bit too much knowing amusement. “read the… material?”

you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, and every other voice actor in the room suddenly found the table, the wall, or their own shoes very interesting.

all except toji, of course, who stretched back with the most obnoxious smirk you’d seen yet.

“homework?” he drawled, deadpan as always. “yeah, got right into it. wouldn’t want to miss a single word of that… fine literature.”

a few of the others exchanged awkward looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the dead-serious way toji said fine literature without a shred of irony. meanwhile, you shrank a little in your seat, not exactly loving the fact that the guy you threw up on was apparently the one voice actor who actually read your work cover-to-cover. not to mention, this was toji fushiguro, the voice actor who’d taken the world by storm with a single, leaked snippet. you'd heard your fans say that he was some kind of god-tier talent — practically a household name. and now? 

he was casually staring you down like he'd just read your diary.

“it’s… it’s not that bad,” you muttered defensively, feeling a prickling heat rise up your neck.

toji raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “oh, didn’t say it was bad. just, uh… thorough.”

you felt the blush intensify, but before you could reply, gojo jumped back in, undeterred. “great! since everyone’s read it now, we’ll dive into scene breakdowns tomorrow, with input from our illustrious author here.” he winked at you in that annoyingly playful way of his, as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing for kicks. “it’s all about bringing your vision to life, yeah?”

“looking forward to it.” toji’s tone was smooth, with just enough emphasis to hint at the mischief lying behind his calm expression. you could swear there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes, and the fact that he’d actually read the book — a book that you wrote in a creative haze, no less — was beginning to feel less like a weird coincidence and more like some cosmic joke at your expense.

suguru’s voice broke through, “and let’s hope that translates to success, right, gojo? my dividends would certainly appreciate it.”

“oh, don’t you worry, sugu bear.” gojo leaned in with that shark-like grin of his. “with toji voicing this masterpiece, and the author right here to guide us? we’re printing money already.”

with a dramatic flourish, gojo clapped his hands together, instantly breaking the tension. “alright, dismissed! snacks are out front — help yourselves, or not! more for me, after all,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he clearly envisioned his sugary hoard.

suguru took this moment as his graceful exit cue, giving a short nod before the screen blinked off. gojo sighed theatrically, clasping his chest. “oh, suguru, leaving so soon? you wound me! who’s going to discuss ‘dividends’ and ‘royalties’ with me now?”

nobody had the heart — or possibly the patience — to answer that question, which suited gojo just fine as he spun on his heel, making his way toward the snack table. 

you, meanwhile, considered vanishing altogether, at least until the next segment of the day when you’d actually need to make yourself useful. judging by the energy in the room, none of the other voice actors were in a rush to strike up a conversation with you. 

ouch. apparently, being the creator of their next project wasn’t that much of a social asset.

you edged toward the door, already halfway to freedom when, like clockwork, a deep, familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “leaving so soon?”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. obnoxious didn’t even cover half of it. “just… thought i’d give you guys a break from me,” you muttered, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, hoping it looked casual instead of like an attempt to bolt.

toji’s laugh was low, almost teasing. “a break? i don’t mind the company. in fact, i think the others are just shy.” his words were smooth, but there was a mischievous lilt to them, like he was very aware of just how uncomfortable you probably were.

“right,” you deadpanned, summoning every ounce of sarcasm you had left. “they’re all just shy.”

he chuckled, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the snack table. gojo was already there, unabashedly sampling a tray of tiny cupcakes. he shot you both a grin that was, in all honesty, more threatening than friendly. 

oh god, why is he looking at us like that?

“so!” gojo swiped another cupcake, leaning back against the table as he took in you and toji with an almost too-pleased expression. “getting along, are we? i mean, it’s not every day you get to work so closely with the voice behind your book, right?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if trying to ignite some sort of spark just to make things interesting.

toji, unbothered as ever, shrugged. “she already threw up on me. might as well be friends after that, huh?”

oh my god. 

you felt the flush rise to your face instantly, a mix of embarrassment and horror. he did not just bring that up in front of gojo, of all people.

“aww, how cute!” gojo crooned, looking absolutely delighted as he clapped his hands in that overly-enthusiastic, not-at-all sincere way. “bonding over bodily fluids. you guys are practically soulmates!”

“please, kill me now,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the snack table like it might provide an escape hatch.

toji leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “don’t worry, author. i’ve seen worse.”

“great, that’s… comforting,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed a snack at random. at this point, you were ready to make a quick exit, potentially before the day’s work even started if it meant escaping this scene.

“now, don’t run off too fast,” gojo added, wagging a finger at you with a sly grin. “i’m expecting all of us back here in an hour, nice and energized. don’t want any excuses!”

toji shot you one last look, equal parts teasing and unreadable, before he turned to grab a coffee. “guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer,” he murmured, a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes.

wonderful. absolutely wonderful. well, at least there’s cupcakes.

it’s only five minutes into the recording session, and you’re already wondering if there’s a job market for earth-burrowing positions. if there is, you’d gladly take it. anything would be better than this…circus.

the sound booth is packed with voice actors delivering line after line of your book’s carefully crafted (painfully cheesy) smutty dialogue. you bite your lip, both cringing and resisting the urge to laugh out loud as one of the actors, a slender guy with an unfortunate tendency to over-dramatize every vowel, reads his line with a tragic sigh.

“i can’t help it… i just want to devour you.”

devour you? you want to throw yourself into the nearest trash can. before you can stop yourself, you lean forward into the mic, managing a half-apologetic, half-pleading tone. “uh, could you maybe… ease up on the ‘devour’ part? like, less dramatic, more… suave?”

he nods seriously, doing a quick vocal warm-up before trying again. “i can’t help it… i just want to devoooour—”

“nope! nope, nope, nope!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, the cringe spiraling out of control. you quickly clear your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible. “let’s, uh, maybe just skip to the next line.”

from the corner of the room, you catch sight of gojo, who’s grinning so widely you’re genuinely concerned his face might stay that way forever. he’s watching you with an infectious enthusiasm that’s bordering on manic, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement. you’re half-expecting him to yell, “surprise! this is an snl skit!”

you rub at your temple, wishing the earth would do you a solid and open up beneath you, while the next actor — a petite, sweet-looking woman who’s visibly uncomfortable — takes her turn. she clears her throat, looking down at her script, and delivers the line in a barely-there whisper, “i… i want you to take me… take me as if…”

“um…” you grimace, instantly feeling the heat rise to your face. “maybe a bit louder? but, you know, sensual.”

she blushes, muttering something under her breath before raising her voice, though it’s still trembling. “i… i want you to… take me… as if…”

toji, who’s been watching the whole scene from his seat, chuckles lowly, and his smirk sends a jolt of embarrassment through you. “jeez, author, why don’t you just hop in there and show ’em how it’s done?” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not unkind.

you throw him a flat look, biting back an eye roll. not like i wanted to be here, you think to yourself. it’s just that somehow, the universe decided that today you’d be responsible for turning lines you’d never want to say out loud into something even remotely palatable.

and it only gets worse. 

another actor — a deep-voiced, well-meaning guy in his mid-40s — leans into his mic and reads out, in a gruff voice you can only describe as a rejected batman impersonation: “you’re driving me… wild.” his tone is so intense it’s like he’s threatening to fight the listener in a parking lot.

“okay… we might want to dial it back a little,” you say carefully, hoping to mask your horror with politeness. “just… a little less ‘supervillain,’ more… warm?”

you hear toji chuckle behind you, low and rumbling, clearly reveling in your suffering. and as you glance over your shoulder, you find gojo, once again, looking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. 

at this point, he might actually cry from laughing.

just when you think it can’t get any worse, toji stands, giving you a wink as he heads into the booth for his turn. he takes the mic, his face blank and unreadable as he starts reading the next line.

“i need you… right now,” he purrs, his voice oozing that lazy, sensual charm you’d envisioned for this character. it’s… almost unfair, really. 

there’s not an ounce of irony or overacting. 

toji’s delivery is so smooth, so confident, that it catches you off guard, a flush rising to your cheeks.

gojo lets out a low whistle, giving you a teasing look as if to say, see? was that so hard?

“finally,” you mutter under your breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. gojo raises a brow, clearly enjoying every second of your awkwardness.

you sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the recording. if nothing else, at least one actor seems to have nailed the tone — much to your embarrassment and gojo’s endless delight.

you clear your throat, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the recording session, which is proving to be harder than herding a pack of caffeinated cats. “right, everyone, let’s, uh, keep moving and go ahead with recording the dragon king’s lines. toji, if you’re ready?”

but you barely finish your sentence before gojo claps toji on the shoulder with that all-too-annoying bromance energy, grinning from ear to ear. “our star is ready, aren’t ya, toji? i mean, look at this guy! look at him! can’t believe i found this gem for gojo-sonic!” gojo’s voice carries that infuriatingly proud tone that practically drips with smug satisfaction.

you stifle an eye roll, and even the other actors exchange glances, half-annoyed, half-amused at gojo’s over-the-top fawning. but before you can jump in to cut gojo off, toji just smirks, sliding comfortably into the mic like he was born to deliver cheesy lines.

“alright, alright,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “let’s see what you’ve got, mr. dragon king.”

toji adjusts the headphones, his lazy smirk already primed. 

and then he begins, voice low and sultry, hitting each cringe-worthy word with the same ridiculous gravitas that has the whole room mesmerized.

“i have waited eons for a beauty like yours to grace my realm. come… be mine, and together we shall rule the heavens.”

you can practically feel everyone holding their breath, transfixed by the sheer sincerity in his tone, despite the line’s absurdity. you, too, can’t help but feel a blush creeping up your neck, which is just unfair given you wrote these lines. 

you knew what they were meant to sound like, but this? 

he’s delivering them like they’re damn poetry.

toji doesn’t stop there, though, his deep voice carrying each line as though he’s serenading the mic. “my heart burns with a fire only you can soothe. take my hand, and i swear to guard your heart with my very life.”

gojo is practically fawning, batting his eyelashes like a proud parent in the corner. “see, people, this is how it’s done! let the dragon king here show you amateurs how it’s really supposed to sound!”

you resist the urge to chuck something at gojo as the other actors’ eyes widen, watching in awe.

one of them mutters under their breath, “no way we’re topping that.”

and then, toji’s voice dips even lower, the next line coming out in a growl that somehow manages to be both dramatic and, disturbingly, kind of… enchanting.

“you are the breath in my lungs, the flame in my veins. without you, i am but a shadow… a beast in the dark.”

the room is dead silent. 

you’re all fawning, gushing messes, and you’re not even sure how it happened. it’s like toji’s somehow turned this trial recording into an absurdly hot moment. you can barely believe you’re hearing the same lines you once labeled “ridiculously cringey” in the draft.

finally, he leans back, looking pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just left everyone a little breathless. gojo practically beams with pride, nudging you. 

“so… i think you’ve found your dragon king, wouldn’t you say?”

you nod, still stunned, half in disbelief, half in begrudging admiration. if this was just the trial recording, you could only imagine how many blushing, starry-eyed listeners this final audiobook was going to leave in its wake.

the moment the trial recording session wraps up, gojo is the first one on his feet, clapping his hands like he's just watched the performance of a lifetime. “brilliant!” he practically shouts, pulling out his phone faster than you can blink. “suguru needs to hear this,” he mutters, already dialing his business partner like a kid who can’t wait to brag about his latest toy.

sometimes you really do forget that gojo is the ceo of a multi-million dollar company — an erotic audiobook company, no less. 

is he this passionate about the art, or is it just the money? either way, watching him fanboy over his own employee leaves you a mix of amused and exhausted.

there’s a charm to it, though, even if it’s a little baffling to witness in real time.

as the energy in the studio starts to mellow, you find yourself actually breathing a bit easier. for once, things seem to be going smoothly. 

maybe this whole collaboration wouldn’t be a disaster after all. 

you let yourself relax, even if a small part of your brain chides you with a quick reminder: next time, skip the cheap caffeine fix when you’re pulling an all-nighter writing smut. 

or… cheap anything, really. 

yeah, you don’t actually smoke, you remind yourself — except, well, that one time in college, but hey, that was a whole different you. one that should stay buried in the relics of questionable decisions, right next to your spiral-bound notes of embarrassingly bad poetry.

just as you’re praying to the universe that this is all going to wrap up without any extra drama, you hear it. the sound that’s become both your nightmare and… okay, maybe, a little less than that.

“well, princess,” toji’s voice rumbles, his tone as amused as it is teasing, “got anything else you want from your dragon king?”

you close your eyes and will the ground to open up beneath you, but nope, nothing. 

nothing but the sound of your heartbeat doing an awkward little tango in your chest.

of course he’d pick now to resurrect that ridiculous moniker from last night. like it wasn’t humiliating enough when he threw it out there while you were a couple drinks deep and all but glued to your seat at the bar. 

oh, you’re practically begging the universe to put you out of your misery — well, actually, now that you think about it, maybe being wrapped up in those beefy arms wouldn’t be the worst fate…

wow. get a grip, girl. this is the caffeine deprivation talking. 

definitely that.

but then toji smirks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if he’s just dared you to respond. and all you can think is… oh, lord, this man is trouble.

"c’mon, just a drink,” toji insists, flashing that devil-may-care grin that both ruins and improves your day within a matter of seconds. he’s leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world, casually ignoring how you definitely don’t. 

“trust me, princess, it’ll settle your nerves.”

it’s not like you need a reminder of the mess that was last night. every foggy memory swirls in your head, like life’s own cruel version of a mocktail — one garnished with shame, regret, and a generous helping of last night’s tequila. 

if anything, adding more drinks to this equation feels about as smart as walking blindfolded into traffic.

but toji’s already up, stretching like he’s completely unaware of the chaotic memories this whole “outing” is summoning. “just a quick look around gojo-sonic, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the maze of hallways beyond the studio door, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

“you’re new here, and it’s… important to know the lay of the land. work reasons.”

you can practically hear the quotation marks around that “work reasons.”

“you know,” he adds with a wink, “never hurts to see where the magic happens.”

yeah, right. you have a feeling the only magic here is him somehow dragging you deeper into your personal nightmare.

you don’t even get the chance to respond with a yes, no, or a “maybe next century” when toji’s phone lights up and his whole expression darkens. not exactly the look you expect from the guy whose voice practically ruined half the internet last month with that infamous line about... well, yeah, better not go there right now.

“satoru, the brat got into a fight,” he growls into the phone, and suddenly, satoru’s jaw hits the floor with such force you can practically hear it from across the studio. toji doesn’t stick around for a reply, though — he’s already striding toward the door like a man with a purpose, ignoring satoru’s spluttered, “the what did who?”

and somehow — god knows how — you find yourself tagging along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the thrill of seeing toji in full boss mode, or maybe it’s just because, oh, y’know, “responsible adult and responsibilities” instincts or whatever. 

but the further you walk, the more you realize that toji doesn’t mind you following one bit. in fact, he’s practically matching his pace to yours, as if you’re part of some unofficial escort mission to... whoever this “brat” is.

which, speaking of, who the hell is megumi?

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this was supposed to be a “quick tour” of the office and not, somehow, an impromptu escort mission to the world’s sleekest car, a porsche 911 turbo — yep, that’s right, the kind of car you’ve only ever seen in movies where the bad guy’s got a mysterious, sexy side. all you can manage is, “you own this?”

toji shrugs, slipping his keys into the ignition with an air of pure, unbothered cool. “you don’t?”

oh. okay. 

you barely have time to process this response before he’s peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, a snail-paced truck, and an old lady who’s almost sacrificed her wig to his driving style. but hey, all part of the thrill, right?

definitely not questioning life choices here.

by the time you pull up to a cutesy primary school — you know, the kind with pastel-colored gates and cartoon murals of bears and rabbits — you’re genuinely confused. 

toji seems like the last guy who’d be here unless it was some undercover op. and “megumi,” whoever he is, sounds like he could be the school’s playground menace.

“wait, this is where we’re headed?” you ask, eyeing the building like it might suddenly make sense.

but toji’s out of the car, moving so fast you practically have to jog to keep up. the school secretary gives you both a wary glance, likely sensing the storm of exasperation radiating off toji, as he strides straight into the principal’s office. there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl that screams “mini-toji,” is a little boy with spiky hair and an air of quiet defiance.

without missing a beat, toji asks, “megs! did you win?”

the principal, a kindly-looking woman whose expression is rapidly shifting from “calm mediator” to “i don’t get paid enough for this,” clears her throat. 

“mr. fushiguro, your son wasn’t... in the wrong, per se. it appears he was, um, defending his honor.”

defending his honor? you blink. what kind of second grader even knows what that means?

“that true, ‘gumi?” toji says, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbothered, proud dad of the year.

“he said my dad was a... weird voice actor,” megumi mutters, then shrugs. “so i said at least my dad works.”

you nearly choke, partly from stifled laughter, partly from the sheer absurdity of all this. here you were, thinking “honor” meant, like, taking down a playground empire or something. 

but no, megumi’s just a kid with a sharp tongue and a little too much of toji’s attitude.

“damn right, kid,” toji says, patting megumi’s head, then looking over at you with that familiar, annoyingly smug grin. “raised him right, yeah?”

“...sure,” you say, because what else can you even say at this point? it’s like you’ve stumbled into the weirdest sitcom ever, and the laugh track is somehow missing.

the principal’s expression morphs into something almost painfully polite as she addresses you, tiptoeing around the word wife with an impressive mix of caution and curiosity. 

“are you, ah... megumi’s guardian?”

and then, in perfect, unplanned harmony, you, toji, and megumi all blurt out, “no.”

the unity, the instinctual synchronization — it’s like you’re all on the same wavelength, for better or worse. soul-level understanding, or something. 

what the hell is happening right now?

with a polite smile and a “let’s never speak of this again” nod, you three finally leave the principal’s office. megumi, looking more bored than reprimanded, flicks at a speck of lint on his uniform, while you and toji attempt to navigate the hallway swarming with concerned teachers and worried front-desk ladies. and by “concerned” and “worried,” it’s more like they’re curious about toji’s parenting style and, let’s be honest, probably toji himself.

“oh, mr. fushiguro!” one particularly invested teacher coos, “we heard about the incident. is everything all right?”

toji, of course, laps up the attention, chuckling low and throwing in a wink here and there like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie dad role. the ladies are practically falling over themselves to get a response from him, their questions barely veiled as they assess you with raised brows and sideways glances, a classic “who’s she?” written all over their faces.

“and you are...?” one of the front-desk ladies finally asks, voice all sugar-coated and sharp.

toji slides in smoothly, cutting off whatever half-formed, awkward introduction you were about to stammer out. “oh, she’s a colleague,” he says, his tone effortlessly suave, like introducing a perfectly respectable coworker and totally not the author of his last, extremely explicit audiobook project.

you’re almost grateful until it hits you — this is the same guy who made a whole production of calling you “princess” in the recording booth just yesterday. 

as if he hasn’t played one of your absurdly corny dragon kings in all his full-throttle intensity. 

and now he’s here, all casual and cool, giving you a proper, respectable title like he hasn’t spent hours voicing content these people probably keep hidden under their pillows at night.

but at least he didn’t out you as the actual author of those… creative pieces. 

that’s something.

toji is out here, doing his social service to society. and no, it’s not about lending his voice to steamy audiobooks, thank you very much. 

today, he’s serving the community by providing these teachers with a generous five minutes of his attention, which they’ll probably be replaying in their heads until the next parent-teacher meeting. and — oh, what a surprise! — that’s exactly what they’re talking about now, circling back to how he must come to the next one for a “serious discussion” about megumi.

toji’s stance? why bother? if the kid’s acing his tests, staying out of trouble (mostly), and keeping a lid on the whole “honor” thing, why does he need to sit through hours of polite lecturing from the pta?

while he’s busy justifying his lack of parental enthusiasm, you feel a pair of eyes on you. glancing down, you meet megumi’s steady, curious stare. 

it’s oddly intense for a kid his age, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. you narrow your eyes, feigning a critical, assessing look, and he visibly falters, going slightly pink around the ears.

ah, kids.

as you three make your way out of the building — toji still being all socialite with the staff and probably postponing that pta date indefinitely — you suddenly find yourself in a mini interview  with megumi. it’s as if this eight-year-old has appointed himself the gatekeeper of his dad’s life and has decided you’re the latest applicant.

“so… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with an unblinking, serious stare.

“uh…” you pause, realizing the weight of your answer here. “blue. like, uh, light blue.”

he nods, considering. “good answer.”

a pause. “favorite superhero?”

“batman?” you try, glancing at him for a sign of approval.

“hmm. fine. but iron man would’ve been better.”

noted, you think, as he then moves to cereal brand, favorite animal, and even your preferred subject in school. you navigate each question as best as you can, almost feeling the burn of a final exam.

then, in a moment of quiet, just as you think the quiz is over, megumi looks down and asks, voice barely a whisper, “did i… do the right thing? defending my… my hone-er?”

“your… oh, honor?” you say, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as you catch his wide-eyed, earnest gaze.

he nods, cheeks tinting a bit as he scuffs his sneaker on the ground.

“megumi,” you say, kneeling a little to get on his level, “defending your honor is important. just… maybe don’t go for all the punches next time? sometimes words work too.” you give him a playful nudge.

he nods, seeming satisfied with that answer, then glances over his shoulder. “and don’t tell daddy i asked.”

“your secret’s safe with me,” you whisper back, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

toji’s arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the little interaction between you and megumi. 

he was always careful about the people around his kid, fiercely protective to the point that very few in his line of work even knew megumi existed. the only ones who had ever met him were gojo and geto — and that was already a stretch.

but something about how you handled the kid’s questions, actually entertained them with the same patience he’d usually summon up himself, caught him off guard. the way you knelt down to answer him, even kept a straight face through the hard-hitting topics of favorite superheroes and cereal brands... it was surprisingly nice. 

almost… reassuring?

ugh, what was he even thinking? you were still the same girl who’d written, and he mentally cringed as he remembered the line, 

“dragons may have claws, but they’re nothing compared to the grip i have on your…” 

yeah, yeah, he really didn’t need to finish that thought. the memory alone had him chuckling under his breath, shaking his head.

of course, that earned him a suspicious glance from both you and megumi.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, brow raised.

“yeah, daddy, why’re you laughing?” megumi chimed in, clearly puzzled.

toji waved a hand dismissively, realizing he’d just blown his cool for no reason. 

“nothin’, don’t worry about it. just thinkin’,” he mumbled, aware he’d probably looked a little unhinged just then. 

maybe he really needed to work on his awareness — or maybe he just needed to get a grip, period.

toji’s mind was doing somersaults, genuinely debating if he could manage both you and megumi tagging along for the afternoon. megumi’s insistence didn’t help; kid was determined that toji should keep you both company for the rest of the day, despite having school hours left. 

“you’ve got work, right?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious. “aren’t you supposed to be off doing big, important actor things?”

toji only smirked, whipping out his phone with the sort of confidence that made it clear he had a workaround for everything. he tapped open a message to gojo, fingers moving fast.

you [11:31 am]: hey. kid’s dragging me to the arcade. need a few hours off. gojo s. [11:33 am]: need or WANT, toji? ;)) you [11:31 am]: like i said, KID is dragging me. gojo s. [11:33 am]: oh sure, blame megumi. what, does he have you wrapped around his little finger or something? you [11:31 am]: think whatever you want, but you’re handling my schedule for the rest of the day. gojo s. [11:33 am]: wait, are you with...the AUTHOR? ;)) you [11:31 am]: quit smiling through text, it’s creepy. gojo s. [11:33 am]: i’ll allow it. but only cause i’m such a good friend.  gojo s. [11:33 am]: tell megumi uncle gojo says hi  gojo s. [11:34 am]: and he owes me 20 bucks. you [11:35 am]: he doesn’t owe you anything. gojo s. [11:35 am]: fine, but bring me something from the prize counter.

satisfied, toji pocketed his phone and shrugged. 

“all right, kid. we’ll hang out for a bit. but i swear if you drag me into any embarrassing games —”

“arcade!” megumi interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish. “i can show you both that i’m the best at every game! daddy taught me how to play, so you better watch out!”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“all right, let’s go. but you better not make me look bad, kid,” toji said, smirking down at his son, who was now practically vibrating with eagerness.

“arcade!” megumi yelled again, nearly bouncing as he grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

megumi barely lets you settle into the leather of the passenger seat before he’s bouncing in the back, practically vibrating with energy as he plugs toji’s phone into the aux. you’re trying to wrap your head around being in toji fushiguro’s car, the man who not only voices the romantic lead in your steamiest, most dramatic book but also owns a luxury car that could probably pay off your loans twice over.

"so, uh... passenger princess, huh?" toji smirks, catching you in mid-thought.

"i… what?" you stammer, feeling the heat creep up as he settles a hand on the wheel with all the nonchalance in the world. “i, uh —” but you’re cut off by megumi excitedly blasting his choice of artist: korn.

"your son listens to korn?" you blurt out, giving toji a mix of awe and disbelief.

toji just raises an eyebrow, deadpanning, “yours doesn’t?”

ouch. okay, fair point. 

because no, you do not have a kid, or a husband, or even a boyfriend…or any romantic prospects, really. 

toji’s question leaves you fidgeting as you try to muster a dignified response.

meanwhile, megumi is full-on screaming to the lyrics of "freak on a leash," and you catch snippets like “something takes a part of me!” which, yeah, relatable — korn is honestly hitting the mood. but of course, toji catches you staring out the window, attempting to look casual as he throws you a side-eye.

"so, what’s got you without a boyfriend?” he asks, way too casually, as if this was a natural segue from whatever korn-fueled karaoke session is happening in the backseat.

you practically choke on air. "what, me? no, i’m...," you laugh awkwardly, shifting in the passenger seat. “besides, i don’t meet many guys. i'm just… you know… doing my thing.”

megumi, pausing his headbanging just for a moment, turns and looks at you with an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face, as if being single was the worst possible fate in his young, eight-year-old eyes. 

but then he shrugs, clearly uninterested in this adult drama and goes back to screaming, “feeling like a freak on a leash!”

toji, still watching you, smirks, “so, doing your ‘thing’ includes no boyfriend, no husband... what, are you just swearing off men?”

"uh, no!” you say quickly, too quickly, and feel your face heat up. “just haven’t... y’know, met anyone worth dating. been busy.”

toji gives a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “busy doing what, writing your ‘torrid love stories’?”

you make a face, biting your lip. 

“they’re not that torrid.” but even as you say it, you hear the echo of a particularly cheesy line you’d written for his character in your novel, which, mortifyingly enough, involved the phrase “my darling flame, you set my very soul alight.”

toji chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. “maybe i’ll get to hear one of those lines in real life someday, princess.”

“can we not call me that while megumi’s in the car?” you mutter, glancing back, only to find megumi fully engrossed in his self-proclaimed vocal talents.

“noted.” toji snickers, shooting you another mischievous look as korn plays on, megumi happily singing about “breaking down” in the back.

“but hey,” toji says smoothly, hand resting on the gearshift, “just so you know, even my son knows a good band when he hears one.”

you roll your eyes at him, managing to mumble, “at least one of you is a bit mature.”

the porsche pulls up to the arcade with enough fanfare that heads start turning even before the engine purrs to a stop. not that the onlookers were ready for what steps out next: a towering, chiseled man looking like he’s on his way to a modeling photoshoot, a cute kid in full confidence mode, and, well… you.

still feeling a little dizzy from the korn concert that just took place, you barely register megumi bolting out of the car with a grin, leaving you and toji to get your bearings. his energy’s practically crackling by the time toji pays for the play card, and you’re pretty sure if he has to wait even one more minute, he’s about to combust.

“okay, okay, slow down, megumi,” you say, trying to keep up as he yanks you to the nearest neon-lit game. 

but the kid isn’t hearing it. he’s already dragging you to one machine, and then the next, moving faster than you can process where you even are. each one is seemingly more intense and blinding than the last, and you’re hit with a sensory overload of neon lights, retro game sounds, and the feel of the arcade carpet sticking just a little too much to your shoes.

toji’s watching the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk. you and his kid are like a whirlwind of neon and laughter, barely stopping to catch your breaths between games. the sight is somehow… comforting. like a scene from a life he hadn’t planned but couldn’t help finding strangely compelling.

but then he catches himself. seriously? 

he shakes his head. this is not the time to get all sentimental over his kid’s new ‘playdate’ or whatever. 

he’s just here because megumi insisted, and maybe he thought it’d be amusing to watch you get dragged around by an eight-year-old with zero restraint. that’s it. 

nothing more.

yeah, right. his internal grumbling comes to an abrupt stop as he watches megumi take your hand and pull you over to a classic claw machine. the kid’s looking up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, all excitement and pure innocence, like winning one of those knockoff plush toys is the pinnacle of existence.

“you got this?” you ask, grinning at him as he lines up the claw with intense concentration.

“of course! my dad showed me,” he declares, like he’s about to go pro in the claw game league.

toji, watching from a distance, feels a twinge in his chest. 

yeah, he’d shown megumi how to play this game ages ago, more to give him an edge over the other kids than anything else. it was a dad-and-son thing, just the two of them. but seeing megumi look up at you with the same pride and excitement makes him feel… something. 

and he doesn’t know if he likes it.

you’re so focused on megumi’s moves that you don’t notice toji’s slight frown, nor do you hear his quiet mutter of, “this is ridiculous.” 

but when he sees the way your eyes light up as megumi successfully nabs a cheap stuffed animal — a lopsided dinosaur, of all things — and the way you celebrate like he’s won an olympic medal, he feels himself relax, just a little.

he chuckles, shaking his head and crossing his arms as you high-five megumi, both of you beaming over a prize that probably cost less than the game itself. but toji doesn’t move. 

he stands there, rooted, as you two bounce from game to game, his thoughts too jumbled to focus on anything else.

but maybe… maybe that’s okay for now.

toji’s phone buzzes just as he’s leaning against the side of a vintage racing game, watching you and megumi practically lighting up the whole arcade with your laughter. he glances down to see satoru’s name pop up on the screen, already feeling a headache brewing.

gojo s. [12:20 pm]: so, arcade? 😏 you [12:20 pm]: yeah, i just told you. gojo s. [12:20 pm]: nah, i mean WHY the arcade? what are we celebrating here, toji? ;)) you [12:21 pm]: why does it matter gojo s. [12:21 pm]: CUZZZZ gojo s. [12:21 pm]: lemme guess, megumi's there with her now, right?  gojo s. [12:22 pm]: bet they’re having the time of their lives, while YOU gojo s. [12:22 pm]: you’re just there all moody on the sidelines😔

toji glances up at you and megumi, who’ve now moved on to a skee-ball machine, both cheering as you score a perfect 50-point throw.

you [12:23 pm]: like i said, work stuff. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: HAHA. work stuff, right.  gojo s. [12:24 pm]: work stuff that has megumi running around grinning like that.  gojo s. [12:25 pm]: bro gojo s. [12:25 pm]: you’re terrible at lying.  gojo s. [12:26 pm]: she’s a keeper if she can deal with YOU you [12:26 pm]: keep dreaming.

he slips his phone back into his pocket, unable to shake off the grin creeping onto his face as he watches you high-five megumi. the kid’s happier than he’s seen in ages, and he…

well, he can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed watching anyone just being with his kid.

toji stands back, taking in the moment — megumi’s laughter echoing through the arcade, your smile as you lift him up with an ease that has the kid giggling uncontrollably — and for some reason, his mind has turned the whole scene into a rom-com montage.

you are the dancing queen…

it’s absurd, really. 

he doesn’t even like abba. but there it is, the stupid song playing in his head, all set to the image of you holding his son, twirling him like he weighs nothing, both of you in fits of laughter.

young and sweet, only seventeen…

and for a split second, his heart does this awkward little stutter. 

he chalks it up to the neon lights. 

or maybe the greasy smell of the arcade food messing with his senses. but as he watches you hold megumi up, almost as if he’s flying, he can’t ignore that ridiculous, cheesy pull in his chest.

feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah...

oh god. 

is he seriously catching himself grinning at the way you’re both trying to get him to join in? megumi’s little hand reaches out, beckoning him over, and you’re giving him that smile, that “come on, get over here, big guy” look.

you can dance, you can jive…

the song hits that soaring note in his head just as he finally gives in and starts to walk over, and his pulse actually picks up, as if he’s not just at some run-down arcade but in the middle of some ridiculously sappy rom-com finale.

having the time of your life…

and then megumi is shrieking again, calling, “dad, hurry up!” like it’s life or death, and you’re beaming at him with that mischievous, encouraging look.

toji sighs, shaking his head at himself. 

just great. 

the two of you have officially dragged him into your world, soundtrack and all.

toji's trying his best to lock in. 

but as he walks out of the arcade — juggling not one, but four oversized plushies, two fancy new lego sets, a slinky, a bouncy ball, some glow-in-the-dark slime, and a rainbow slap bracelet — he can’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

between his loaded arms and megumi curled up fast asleep in yours, it’s a scene straight out of one of those cheesy family movies.

he shakes his head, trying to push down that weirdly warm feeling creeping up on him. 

stay focused, toji. 

he doesn't need any sappy feelings right now. he's a single dad with a kid and a job, not some washed-up rom-com character, damn it. 

but watching you gently adjust megumi as he drools onto your shoulder, snuggling deeper into the crook of your arm as you carefully slide into the backseat, it’s hard not to feel that tug again.

ugh, he thinks, climbing into the driver’s seat as you buckle up up front, giving him a soft, tired smile. 

“never held a kid before, huh?” he teases, eyes glancing from the road to the rearview mirror, where megumi’s still dozing, soft breaths muffling against your arm.

“nope,” you shrug, but there’s a softness to your voice as you gently rub megumi’s back, “first time for everything, i guess.”

toji’s heart does that weird skip thing again. 

oh god, he thinks, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he tries to ignore the sappy old man vibe overtaking him.

the air in the car feels... charged, but it’s not like either of you are exactly leaning into the tension. instead, you both sit in this weird, awkward silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio, like you’re suddenly too aware of just being there with each other.

and then, as if the universe wanted to toy with you, iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing. 

oh, god. you immediately wish you could just evaporate into the passenger seat.

“...and i’d give up forever to touch you…” the lyrics croon, filling the silence, and you can practically feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

toji clears his throat, obviously catching it too. “radio’s on a roll, huh?”

“yep,” you say, managing a weak laugh. “i mean, this is classic… everyone listens to goo goo dolls in, uh, total silence in the car with their coworker, right?”

he glances at you, a rare, subtle smile ghosting on his lips. “totally normal.”

“and i don’t want the world to see me… ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

you glance out the window, eyes focused anywhere but on him, biting back a laugh at how the song somehow keeps getting more dramatic. like, who’s writing this scene, seriously?

“just tell me where to turn,” toji says, breaking through your internal monologue, and you do, mentioning a landmark close to home, hoping he’ll take the hint.

but toji only raises an eyebrow. “near it? nah. i’m dropping you at the door.”

“oh, no, that’s really fine —” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.

“don’t worry about it,” he insists, a smirk in his voice. “besides, i remember where you live. from, you know… last time.”

wait. last time? as in… when you were embarrassingly, unapologetically wasted that night?

you want to crawl under the seat as the lyrics continue, “when everything’s made to be broken…”

so when toji pulls up in front of your apartment, there’s this odd feeling hanging in the air. you catch yourself wanting to... linger, just a little longer, even if you’re home. 

and lowkey? 

so does toji. 

it’s like the two of you have hit this weird teenage crush level of awkward — just leaning, leaning, like there’s some invisible string pulling you closer.

he’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him, and you’re both just… stuck there. you can’t even bring yourself to reach for the door handle, and it’s the same for him.

but right as the moment peaks, a tiny, innocent voice cuts through from the backseat. “are you two going to kiss?”

megumi’s question hangs there, blunt and childlike, breaking whatever spell had you both frozen. you both jolt back, blinking as if you just woke up.

“what? no!” you blurt, practically tripping over your own denial. 

your face feels like it’s about to catch fire.

toji coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, just barely suppressing a chuckle.

“kid’s got a helluva imagination,” he mutters, eyes anywhere but on you.

as you finally reach for the door handle, ready to slip out and say your goodbyes, you hear a little sniffle from the backseat.

“wait…” megumi’s voice is tiny, almost shaky. you turn around, and to your surprise, his face is scrunched up, his eyes glistening with tears that he’s trying so hard to hold back.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to face him. “i’ll see you again, kiddo.”

but his lower lip wobbles, and suddenly he bursts into full-on tears, clutching the giant plushie he won at the arcade. “b-but i don’t want you to leave!” he sobs, voice cracking. “can’t you stay just a little longer?”

toji’s eyes widen; he looks genuinely shocked. 

“megumi, you’re fine, she’s not going anywhere forever. what’s gotten into you?” he tries to keep his tone steady, but there’s an undercurrent of surprise. 

megumi doesn’t cry. 

ever. 

this is new territory.

megumi just shakes his head, burying his face into the plushie. “but she’s nice,” he mumbles, muffled but insistent. “and she plays games with me and —” he peeks out from the plushie with red, teary eyes. “and she talks to me like you do.”

you feel something stir in your chest at his words, this overwhelming urge to hug him even though you’d sworn up and down just an hour ago you didn’t know how to handle kids.

“aw, megumi,” you say softly, reaching over and giving his little hand a squeeze. “i’ll still see you, i promise. maybe we can even play again sometime, okay?”

“but you’re leaving now,” he says, his voice quivering, clutching your hand with a desperation that tugs at your heart. 

“and daddy didn’t even kiss you.”

the absolute silence that follows is deafening. 

you feel your face go redder than it’s ever been, and a glance at toji shows he’s equally flustered, mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find some way to steer this conversation back to normal.

“whoa, hey now,” toji says, forcing a laugh as he clears his throat. “that’s, uh — that’s not how it works, kid.” he ruffles megumi’s hair a little too hard, clearly floundering. “and hey, don’t go crying over someone just leaving for the night, you’re stronger than that.”

“i don’t care,” megumi sniffles, clutching your hand tighter. “i like her. and she makes you smile.”

toji freezes, the color draining from his face for just a split second. 

makes him smile. 

he doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling, maybe more in one day than he has in months. he glances at you, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

“well…” toji’s voice is softer now, almost cautious, like he’s testing out words he hasn’t said in a long time. “

maybe… maybe she could come around again. if she wants to, that is.”

“i do.” you answer without thinking, your gaze drifting to megumi’s tear-streaked face, which immediately lights up.

“really?” megumi’s eyes shine, practically bouncing in his seat. “you promise?”

“i promise,” you say with a smile, giving him a reassuring nod. “as long as it’s okay with you and your dad, of course.”

“’s fine,” toji grumbles, running a hand over his face to hide his slight grin. “besides, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson or two at the arcade next time.”

“is that a challenge, toji?” you quip, smirking. “because if i remember right, megumi here got more tickets than both of us combined.”

“that’s because i taught him everything he knows,” toji scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this.

megumi sniffles one last time, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “then… you’ll come over soon, right?”

“absolutely,” you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest as you meet his hopeful gaze. “but only if you promise to keep practicing at the arcade. gotta keep that winning streak going, right?”

megumi grins, finally letting go of your hand as he settles back with a contented sigh. “deal.”

toji just shakes his head, muttering something about the “drama” gene clearly skipping a generation, though the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

as you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to say goodbye, you feel the car click with the unmistakable sound of the child lock. you glance back at megumi, who’s nodding off against his plushie pile, and back at toji, who’s already climbing out to walk you up to your door. 

gentlemanly of him, sure. 

though, the way his eyes linger on you… there’s more to it than that.

“i could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say, falling into step beside him as you head up to your building. “it’s not that far.”

“maybe i just felt like making sure you didn’t trip and embarrass yourself,” he shoots back, smirking as he nudges your shoulder.

“very chivalrous, fushiguro,” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning anyway. “honestly, you’re like a walking textbook definition of ‘gentleman.’”

“yeah, well,” he clears his throat, looking just a bit smug. “maybe i was raised right. or maybe,” his voice drops a little lower, “i just wanted an excuse to stick around a little longer.”

you blink, caught off guard by the soft rasp in his voice, the way his eyes are just a bit darker under the porch light.

“oh,” is all you manage, though your heartbeat’s doing a little somersault. “well… uh. here’s my door.”

“guess it is,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he takes a step closer, leaning against the doorframe like he’s meant to be there, like he’s settled in the idea of being right here, with you. 

“y’know… not a bad place to end the night.”

“yeah,” you say, feeling the words catch in your throat as you gaze up at him, taking in every detail, every shadow. “definitely not bad.”

the two of you are just standing there, a little too close, the space between you narrowing with every unspoken word. he glances down at your lips, and your pulse spikes — he’s thinking it too, right? but just as the moment seems to reach its tipping point, toji smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

“you know,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “still can’t believe you’re the same girl who wrote that… what was it again?” he chuckles, clearly remembering. “oh, right — ‘her legs wrapped around him like a vice, his name spilling from her lips like honey’.”

your face goes nuclear. 

that line. 

of all the lines, that one?

“you… you remember that?” you manage, mortified.

“’course i remember,” he says, that smug smirk firmly in place. “you think i just skimmed through your stuff?”

“well — i — ” your words are a mess, barely coherent. “i mean, i just thought —”

“nah, i’ve been reading it all.” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he leans just a little closer, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “you’ve got quite the imagination.”

“s-shut up,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “i was just… doing my job.”

“i know,” he says, voice soft but unyielding. “you’ve got talent.”

there’s a beat, silence stretching between you, the weight of his words settling over the both of you.

“...and you’ve got this whole heartthrob thing going for you,” you blurt out, finally meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “kind of makes it hard to believe you’re my colleague.”

“heartthrob, huh?” he smirks, voice dipping lower as his fingers drift to your chin, tilting your face up. 

“so that’s what you think of me?”

“i — i mean…” you stammer, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “maybe a little. just… a tiny bit.”

“tiny?” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch away. “could’ve sworn you looked a little more than just ‘tiny’ interested.”

“oh yeah?” your voice is a whisper now, almost breathless as you feel his breath on your skin, his gaze never wavering. “what if i was?”

“then i’d probably do this,” he mutters, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, and before you know it, his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly gentle.

your breath catches, and instinctively, you lean into him, letting his kiss deepen, his hand tracing slow, lazy patterns against your cheek. it’s everything you’d imagined and somehow even better, his presence grounding and electric all at once.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft but searching. “so… do i still get to be a heartthrob?”

“only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you murmur back, grinning like an idiot.

“deal,” he says, chuckling as he pulls you in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours like a promise.

ah, shit.

as toji slips back into the car, he barely manages to close the door before megumi’s voice hits him like a lightning bolt.

“daddy kissed the pretty lady!” megumi shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger from the backseat. “i saw it! you have that weird face on!”

toji’s eyebrows shoot up. “weird face? what weird face?” he tries to play it cool, adjusting the rearview mirror, but the ghost of that kiss is still painted on his lips, his pulse betraying him with every beat.

“that smile,” megumi says, wrinkling his nose in a perfect mirror of his dad’s usual expression of disdain. “you look like a… like a…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “...like a love puppy!”

toji chokes, stifling a laugh. “a love puppy? where the hell did you get that from?”

“it’s a thing, daddy,” megumi huffs, crossing his arms. “you have that goofy look, and your face is all soft. you only look like that when you’re being weird.”

“me? weird?” toji glances in the mirror, catching megumi’s glare. “kid, i think you’ve got this all wrong.”

“no, i don’t!” megumi insists, practically bouncing in his seat. “you were all ‘goo-goo eyes’ and ‘smoochy-smoochy’ and ‘mwah mwah mwah!’” he makes exaggerated kissing sounds, complete with squished-up lips and hand gestures, utterly scandalized by his dad’s sudden transformation.

“alright, alright, enough with the ‘mwah mwah.’” toji tries to suppress a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’ve been watching too many cartoons.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression serious. “nope. i knew it. i knew you liked her.” he narrows his eyes, as if seeing through toji’s very soul. “so… are you gonna marry her?”

toji’s eyes go wide. 

“whoa, whoa, hold on. nobody said anything about marriage.”

“but if you kiss someone, that means you wanna be with them forever, right?” megumi asks earnestly, looking way too wise for his age.

toji stares ahead, caught off-guard by the kid’s earnestness. 

that kiss… he didn’t plan it. he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he’d leaned in, felt the spark pull him closer. but now? 

yeah, the idea of just walking away feels… wrong. he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing.

“kid, sometimes people just… feel things, okay?” he says, his voice softer, more introspective. “even if they don’t really know why.”

megumi tilts his head, watching his dad closely. “so you do like her, then?”

toji snorts, pulling the car out onto the road. “alright, detective, settle down back there. no more snooping.”

they drive in a comfortable silence for a moment, but the radio has other plans. 

as if on cue, the familiar, aching chords of iris by the goo goo dolls come through the speakers, and toji swears he could feel the universe laughing at him.

“and i don’t want the world to see me, ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

toji clenches his jaw, feeling the lyrics press into him, each line stirring something restless and warm in his chest. he’s always been a guy with his walls up, always knew the stakes were too high to let anyone in. 

but tonight… tonight, he let his guard down. just for a second. 

he kissed you, tasted the softness of your lips, and the spark left him reeling.

“when everything’s meant to be broken, i just want you to know who i am…”

“daddy?” megumi’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “do you think… maybe you could see her again? so she could come play with us?”

toji blinks, glancing at megumi in the rearview mirror. “you really like her, huh?”

megumi nods vigorously. “yeah! she’s… nice. and fun.” his face softens. “and… she made you look happy.”

toji’s heart gives a strange, unfamiliar twist at that. 

happy, huh? 

he’s been around the block long enough to know that happiness isn’t exactly his best friend. but sitting here, listening to megumi, feeling that residual warmth from your kiss… it makes him wonder. 

wonder what life could look like with you in it.

but he pushes the thought away, focusing on the road. doesn’t change the fact that you’re just his colleague. right?

“and i’d give up forever to touch you…”

ugh.

he shifts uncomfortably, hoping megumi doesn’t notice his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. 

that kiss wasn’t just some fleeting thing — he’d known it the second he felt the warmth of you linger even after pulling away. the idea of letting you go now feels… impossible. something’s tugging him back, making him want more.

“hey, daddy,” megumi pipes up again, breaking toji’s brooding. “you got that look again.”

“what look?” toji mutters, trying to focus on anything but the goofy grin creeping back onto his face.

megumi smirks, mimicking toji’s soft expression. “that ‘i kissed a pretty lady’ look!”

toji laughs, shaking his head as he glances at megumi in the rearview mirror. “alright, alright. i guess you caught me.”

and as he drives home, the final notes of iris playing softly through the car, he can’t shake the feeling that this… whatever this is… isn’t something he’s ready to let go of.

ah, shit.

as soon as toji sets megumi down on his bed, tucking him in amongst the mountain of ridiculous plushies he’d somehow won at the arcade, he heads back to his room. sliding his phone out, he finds himself doing something he never thought he’d do: texting gojo. of all people.

with a reluctant sigh, he taps out a message, feeling a pang of embarrassment he can’t shake.

you [8:47 pm]: how long’s her contract with gojo sonic?

a moment later, he watches the screen, regretting even reaching out. but, of course, gojo wastes no time with a reply.

gojo s. [8:50 pm]: ohohohohooooo her contract???  gojo s. [8:50 pm]: i knew it. you’re smitten. you [8:51 pm]: don’t start. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: too late! c’mon, dish it out, big guy.  gojo s. [8:51 pm]: you guys had a moment, huh? the chemistry finally snapped? what’d ya do, kiss her?

toji clenches his jaw, hesitating before typing back. his thumb hovers, wondering how much grief he’d get for saying yes. finally, he mutters a curse under his breath and just goes for it.

you [8:53 pm]: ...yeah, i kissed her. happy?

he can practically feel gojo’s cackle vibrating through the phone.

gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WHAT???  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WAIT.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: oh, i need details.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: full play-by-play.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: like was it one of those slow, cinematic moments?  gojo s. [8:54 pm]: or was it a grab and smooch kinda deal??

toji rolls his eyes, fighting off a grin he refuses to admit is there. of all the reactions, he’d been prepared for gojo’s nosiness, but it’s still as annoying as ever.

you [8:55 pm]: shut it. i already said too much. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: pfffff as if i’m letting you get away with that tidbit and no context.  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did she look at you all wide-eyed?  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did you do that thing with your voice??  gojo s. [8:56 pm]: or was it just an accidental, “oh no, we tripped into each other’s faces” sorta thing?

toji rubs his temples, trying to block out how much his stupid heart rate picks up just remembering the way you looked up at him, the softness of your lips, the way it all felt so natural. he shakes his head, forcing the memory aside.

you [8:57 pm]: none of your business, and it’s private.  you [8:57 pm]: don’t you dare send any of this to suguru. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: oh relax! suguru’s not that nosy.  gojo s. [8:57 pm]: okay maybe he is.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: but he’s a romantic.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: think of it as getting free relationship coaching!! you [9:00 pm]: i swear to god satoru i’ll leave the company if you spill this.

there’s a pause, and for a second toji hopes that maybe he’s scared gojo off. 

but, predictably, the next message makes his blood pressure spike.

gojo s. [9:05 pm]: ohhhhh no no you’re not getting off that easy.  gojo s. [9:05 pm]: i’m calling dibs on being the flower girl at your wedding. suguru can be the maid of honor.  gojo s. [9:06 pm]: no nvm he’d wanna be the best man gojo s. [9:06 pm]: I’LL GET MEGUMI TO CARRY THE RINGS gojo s. [9:06 pm]: genius.

toji practically growls at his phone, already regretting every second of this conversation.

you [9:07 pm]: i’ll delete this whole damn thread. this never happened, got it? gojo s. [9:09 pm]: aww, toji bear, don’t be like that. i’ll take care of your little love story for you, promise. consider me your personal wingman.  gojo s. [9:10 pm]: now tell me this — when’s round two of smooch central happening? you [9:11 pm]: goodnight, satoru.

and with that, he shoves his phone onto his nightstand, rubbing his face with a hand. he can still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss, the way his heart skipped, the unexpected tenderness that’s lodged itself in his mind. 

stupid.

he shouldn’t have even told gojo.

but as much as he regrets letting it slip, he doesn’t regret the kiss itself. 

not even a bit.

as soon as you slam your door shut, you just… stand there for a minute, heart racing, and press your fingers to your lips like it’ll somehow reverse what just happened. 

you kissed toji fushiguro. 

the toji fushiguro.

colleague extraordinaire, with biceps that could probably benchpress your entire life’s savings, and that smirk… oh god, that smirk that had you in a daze.

but the problem? 

there was a mini him there. 

a little him with matching black hair and a sharp gaze. 

you thought he was, like, the cool uncle? but… he’s a dad? 

and if he’s a dad… does that mean he’s married? are you the other woman?!

you pace around, practically stomping into the carpet. 

“okay, okay, let’s think this through,” you mutter, putting your hands on your hips. 

“he… he could be a single dad, right? it’s 2024, it’s not that weird for people to have kids without, like, commitment commitments. but then again, he does look like the type who’d… i don’t know, maybe be exclusive? probably?”

your brain is racing, and you’re spinning yourself into circles. 

“i mean, i haven’t seen a ring on his finger… but maybe he just doesn’t wear it?” you plop down on your couch, practically sinking into it as you cover your face with both hands.

ugh.

“did i just kiss a married man? or worse… what if he’s, like, engaged? or has a live-in girlfriend? or — oh my god, what if he’s in some high-profile relationship and i just stepped into the middle of it? —”

you groan, flopping back. “but he… he definitely leaned in first. i’m not hallucinating. he did! but then, if he’s that willing to kiss me, does that mean he’s… a cheater?”

you sit up and shake your head, wide-eyed. “okay, no, i refuse to believe that toji fushiguro, mr. brooding and brooding-er with a kid who listens to korn, is a cheater. there’s no way… right?”

your own voice is almost pleading as you try to convince yourself, pacing again. 

“i mean, maybe he’s just… really, really committed to… being mysterious. yeah, that makes sense. he’s keeping everything a secret, so that just leaves me spiraling about him… perfect. just perfect.”

you smack a hand against your forehead. “why couldn’t i have asked literally any of this earlier?” you shake your head. “right, because i was too busy kissing him.”

you throw yourself back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, the whole thing replaying in your head. 

that look he gave you, the warmth of his hand on your back…

stop.

but it’s too late. your brain keeps running with it.

“what if… what if he has no idea i’m freaking out?” you frown. “oh, he probably doesn’t. and here i am, making a whole drama out of one kiss.” you let out a deep sigh.

you flop onto your bed, heart still pounding, and stare up at the ceiling, fingers absently grazing your lips. 

burning loins, they said. melting from one kiss, they said. 

well, no one exactly said that — except every steamy novel you’ve ever read or written, but that’s beside the point.

you groan, kicking your feet up in frustration. this isn’t one of your own novels! it’s supposed to be real life! but now here you are, in the aftermath of what was arguably the best kiss you’ve ever had, practically combusting at the memory of it.

“if one kiss with toji — no, any man — can get me this hot and bothered, how am i supposed to handle it if i ever… you know…” your voice trails off, and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow as if it’ll smother the absurd train of thought. 

but then, just as you start to get your mind off it, his face pops back up in your head.

“oh god,” you mumble, pulling the pillow over your face. “this is pathetic.” you roll over again, laughing helplessly to yourself. 

if this is what one or two kisses do to me… what’ll happen if we actually have sex?

your eyes snap open. “okay, no. no! i didn’t mean toji, i meant, like… any guy! any guy at all! but, oh god, why is it always him?!”

you stare at the ceiling, huffing as your brain keeps looping back to him. 

his stupidly attractive smirk, the way his hand was firm but gentle on your back, how he looked at you as if you were his next breath. 

girl, get a grip.

“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, swatting at your face like it’ll erase his image from your mind. but it doesn’t work; he’s right there, all hot and smug in your imagination. ugh, this isn’t fair!

it’s like all those countless hours you spent spinning erotic fantasies are coming back to haunt you — and in the most inconvenient, infuriating way possible. you scrunch up your face, realizing with mild horror that maybe… just maybe… you wrote this scenario into existence for yourself.

“oh no… is this karma?” you groan, curling up and swatting the air in helpless embarrassment. “girl, this is not supposed to happen in real life. or with toji.”

but there it is: his face, and your wildly racing heart, and the undeniable, excruciating heat pooling in your belly that refuses to quit.

but even with the spiraling, there’s one thing you can’t deny: as much as it’s driving you crazy, as much as you’re practically scaring yourself into thinking you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life…

you kinda don’t regret it. and that’s the scariest part.

ah, shit.

you step into gojo-sonic, clutching your bag with a little more intensity than usual, and it’s as if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. 

the energy is somehow… different. you expect to be greeted with the usual casual nods and waves, but instead, gojo is practically skipping toward you, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming the new queen of the recording studio.

“there she is! our star of the show, our resident heart-throb wrangler!” he coos, louder than necessary. his grin is blinding, and you’re caught between the urge to backpedal out of the building or dive under the nearest desk.

“uh… good morning?” you reply, more like a question than a statement, glancing around to see if anyone else is picking up on his hyperness. it’s like he’s had twelve cups of coffee or ten bags of skittles. “gojo, you’re… kind of extra today.”

“extra? extra?” he throws a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming. “honey, i’m never just ‘extra.’ i am exactly the right amount of gojo for the occasion.”

“and what occasion is that, exactly?”

“oh, nothing much, just a certain someone having an… enlightening encounter last night,” he says with a wink so exaggerated it looks like he’s trying to shoo a bug off his face.

you stiffen. “wait, how do you…?”

“oh, come on,” he waves it off, laughing. “you think you can keep something like that from me? i mean, i might be blessed with an enormous amount of talent, looks, and charisma, but i also happen to have eyes and ears everywhere.” he taps his temple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“seriously?” you glance around, your stomach sinking a little, looking for any sign of smirking coworkers or curious eyes, but everyone’s just… normal? going about their business, not sparing you a second glance. relief washes over you, only to be swept away by gojo’s piercing stare.

“oh, don’t worry. i haven’t shared your scandalous rendezvous with the world. only i am privy to this delightful information — for now,” he adds, wagging a finger. “and don’t look so shocked! nothing juicy stays hidden from me for long. i know all the company secrets.”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. “gojo, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it’s not like…” you trail off, realizing he’s hanging on to your every word, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“uh-huh,” he drawls, drawing the word out. “not a big deal, you say? then why do you look like you’re about to start sweating bullets?”

“i’m not sweating bullets,” you say through clenched teeth, then give in and sigh. “look, we just… it was just a… i mean, we’re colleagues, and things got a little… friendly. it doesn’t have to mean anything!”

gojo gasps, mock-horrified. “oh, but darling, this is precisely why it’s so interesting! you, of all people, getting caught up with toji fushiguro? and here i thought you’d sworn off office romances.”

“it’s not an office romance,” you insist, voice practically a whisper. “we just… kissed. once. or twice. maybe. but it doesn’t mean anything!”

gojo leans in, conspiratorially. “and yet you look ready to combust from the inside out just talking about it.”

you huff, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “maybe it’s because someone is making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“you wound me!” he presses a hand dramatically to his chest, giving you an exaggerated pout. “but don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. i only told you so you’d know that i know. and, you know, to make things extra awkward in case mr. heart-throb walks in.”

“oh, so you’re really just out to make my life difficult?”

he grins, all teeth. “precisely.”

just then, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate, toji strolls in. he’s the absolute picture of normalcy, no hint whatsoever of last night’s… moment. 

in fact, he gives you a polite nod, a polite nod, as if he hadn’t had you pressed against your own door just hours ago.

“morning,” he says casually, voice smooth, tone nonchalant. he doesn’t even so much as smirk.

you nearly choke. polite nod? normal greeting? did he forget the entire thing? 

“oh, morning,” you manage, clearing your throat, feeling like you’re about to combust again.

gojo, however, is having the time of his life. he’s practically vibrating next to you, watching the exchange with glee.

“morninggg, fushiguro,” he greets toji, voice syrupy with unrestrained glee. “any exciting news today?”

toji raises an eyebrow, shooting him a confused look. “uh, no? everything’s pretty normal.” his eyes flick over to you, calm, almost neutral, as if he hadn’t kissed you senseless just last night.

you clench your jaw. is he really going to act like this? you nearly feel like gaslighting yourself into thinking last night never happened. maybe you just dreamed it, right?

toji’s gaze flicks away from you, unperturbed, as he moves over to get his things ready for the day’s recording. and that’s when gojo leans over and mutters under his breath, “you sure you don’t want to just… remind him?”

“i hate you,” you mutter back, trying not to smile, knowing that he’s secretly rooting for you to fall flat on your face with this whole ordeal.

“i live for your misery, my friend,” he replies with a wink.

meanwhile, toji was absolutely in another dimension of romcom chaos himself, feeling like some kind of high school kid who just had his first crush. he woke up grinning, actually giggling as he got dressed. 

giggling. when was the last time he did that? 

he nearly skipped out the door, and on his drive to work, he found himself humming, humming, to his car stereo like some lovestruck fool. and he didn’t stop there. oh no. 

by the time he reached gojo-sonic, he’d already run through a few extra vocal warm-ups in the car — something he never did this early. he cleared his throat and ran through his usual lines twice, even testing his pitch a bit. no, not because he wanted to be extra smooth today, of course not. he was doing it for the… for the paycheck. 

definitely.

but as soon as he walked into the studio, and he saw you standing there beside gojo, looking all kinds of pretty and polished… he practically heard violins. except no, it wasn’t violins. 

it was, somehow, worse.

his mind cued up dancing queen.

“no. nope. nope.” he muttered under his breath, trying to swat the ridiculous soundtrack out of his mind. but it wouldn’t stop. 

“dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh, yeah….”

why, in the name of all things sacred, was his brain doing this to him? he was toji fushiguro, not some idiot falling over his own feet for a girl at work. he gave himself a good shake, squared his shoulders, and tried to keep his composure. yet every time he caught your eye, his chest did a little flip — and dammit if he didn’t want to just pick you up and give you another kiss right then and there.

“morning,” he forced out, nodding as casually as he could.

and there you were, gaping back with that hint of nervousness, looking like you might combust from just a regular “good morning.” 

god, it was almost cute enough to make him actually laugh out loud.

“she’s just a colleague,” he reminded himself, over and over again, as he worked to keep the grin off his face. “a colleague. not some romcom lead you just made out with in front of her apartment.”

yet the way dancing queen kept droning in his head, as if mocking his every move? toji was seriously questioning whether he’d woken up in some kind of alternate reality.

and he just knew gojo was watching the whole thing with a smug look, likely dying to crack a joke, or worse, belt out dancing queen if he somehow figured out what was in toji’s head. 

and knowing gojo? he probably already had.

the studio door clicked shut as gojo swept out with an exaggerated bow, holding up his finger in a silent “one minute” before he launched into his call with suguru in a voice loud enough to be heard two floors down. gojo was probably already going on about the “incredible chemistry” between his favorite team members, or whatever nonsense he’d decided on for today. 

and with him out of the room, it was just you and toji. 

alone. 

in silence.

you shifted on your feet, eyes darting everywhere except directly at him, yet somehow landing right back on him. it was like your brain had a toji magnet switched on, and no matter how hard you tried to look elsewhere, you found yourself glancing back at him.

finally, the quiet got so charged that you both ended up blurting out at the exact same time —

“are you single?”

you both froze, then looked at each other, wide-eyed, like you couldn’t believe you’d just asked that out loud.

“uh,” toji coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “well. yeah, i am. single, that is.

“oh.” you tried to act cool, but it came out as a slightly breathless squeak. “good to know.”

“and you?” he asked, voice low, almost cautious, as if bracing himself for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“also single,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “which… is also good to know.”

there was a beat of quiet where you both just kind of looked at each other, a half-smile creeping onto his face as you kept shifting on your feet, practically melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“so…” you cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting a little as you gathered the nerve to ask the next thing. “didn’t know you had a kid.”

“oh, yeah.” toji chuckled, a hint of fondness lighting up his expression as he thought of his son. “he’s my kid, alright. handful and a half, that one.”

“he’s adorable.” you smiled, thinking back to the mini toji who had totally stolen your heart. “how old is he?”

“eight.” toji’s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone that you’d never heard before. “he, uh… he means a lot to me. not that i’d ever tell him that, though. don’t want him thinking he’s got me wrapped around his little finger or anything.”

you laughed, picturing the little boy with his big grin and fearless energy. “something tells me he already knows.”

“yeah, probably.” toji laughed too, and for a moment, there was an ease between you, a shared warmth that made the whole moment feel so… natural.

“so… um, are you, like… a single dad?” you asked, careful with your words, not wanting to pry too deeply.

“yeah.” his answer was simple, but there was a weight to it. “just me and the kid. been that way for a while.”

“that’s…” you bit your lip, not sure what to say without sounding weirdly sentimental. “that’s admirable. megumi’s lucky to have you.

“i don’t know about all that,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise but unable to hide a small smile. “just doing what i can, you know?”

“still,” you said, feeling a swell of admiration you hadn’t expected. “it’s impressive. and honestly… seeing you with him yesterday? it was… kinda heartwarming.”

toji looked at you, eyes softening in a way that made your heart stutter. 

“thanks,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “means a lot, hearing that.”

the two of you stood there, closer than you realized, in this weird bubble where everything felt warm and intense and perfect. just as you felt that strange magnetic pull drawing you closer, like maybe you’d just close the gap and —

the studio door banged open.

“don’t stop on my account!” gojo sing-songed, practically sashaying back into the room, a smirk plastered across his face.

you both leaped back, clearing your throats and suddenly finding the walls, the floor, anything else in the room utterly fascinating.

“alright, lovebirds, let’s get this recording started, shall we?” gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked between the two of you, not even pretending he hadn’t just caught a whole moment.

toji settled into the recording booth, leaning back in the chair with the script in hand, his voice dipping to that low, gravelly tone that made every line sound like an invitation.

“so,” he began, speaking as the dragon king to the main character in the script, his words practically dripping with intensity, “you think you can resist me? i see right through you… even the bravest warriors have trembled at my touch.”

your breath caught as he delivered the line, eyes wide as you watched him through the glass. 

you couldn’t help it — his character was practically staring into your soul, voice thick and slow, practically wrapping around each word.

“do you know what happens to those who challenge me?” toji continued, his eyes narrowing as he held the script in one hand, his gaze piercing. “they are forced to surrender… one way or another.”

outside the booth, you practically felt yourself melting, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt. 

toji’s voice, his delivery — it was all too much. how was it possible for him to sound that… that intense? it was like he was actually speaking to you.

“ah, beautiful.” gojo, standing beside you, broke in with a theatrical sigh. “our dragon king sounds magnificent, doesn’t he? i could practically faint!”

you shot him a quick glare, barely masking a smirk. “keep it down, gojo. he’s in the middle of it.”

“oh, i’m just here to appreciate the artistry,” gojo whispered back, feigning innocence as he leaned in to watch, hands clasped together dramatically.

“the choice is yours,” toji went on, his voice softer now, laced with something tender that made it impossible to look away. “join me… or keep pretending this —” he emphasized the word, letting it linger “ — isn’t exactly what you’ve been wanting.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the glass. 

was he delivering that line as the dragon king or as… well, toji?

but then —

“ohhhh!” gojo chimed in loudly, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by an arrow. “the passion! the romance! our hero’s heart is pounding!”

toji paused, rolling his eyes as he looked at gojo through the glass. “you really gonna keep interrupting, gojo?”

“oh, don’t mind me,” gojo said, waving a hand. “i’m simply enjoying the magic in the air! please, carry on. do go on.” he pretended to dab at his eyes. “so moving.”

toji gave a small sigh but threw you a barely-there smile before settling back into character.

“and when you finally stop running…” his voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through it. 

“i’ll be here, waiting… because you belong to me, whether you admit it or not.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer pull of his voice. 

you didn’t know if it was his talent as a voice actor, the lines he was reading, or him, but every word was drawing you in deeper, bit by bit.

“ah, what is it like to be so passionately claimed by a dragon king? how riveting!” gojo murmured dramatically, as if providing a play-by-play to an audience. “she’s helpless, entranced! they both know she’s falling!”

toji cast a pointed look at gojo, barely concealing a smirk. “you done yet, gojo?”

gojo merely grinned, shrugging. “hey, i’m just here to make sure the romance shines through. and oh, don’t worry — it’s definitely shining.”

toji rolled his eyes but kept going, lowering his voice to a rumbling murmur. “if you don’t know where your heart lies, then i’ll show you.” 

he paused, his words lingering in the air like a promise, like he was speaking directly to you.

by now, the studio felt suffused with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. it didn’t help that every time gojo piped in with another comment, it only made you feel more painfully aware of every detail: the way toji’s gaze kept flickering your way, the way your own pulse raced faster with each line he spoke.

“the truth is right in front of you,” toji continued, his voice dropping low, rough, something smoldering behind each word. “all you have to do is reach out… and claim it.”

“gorgeous! breathtaking!” gojo burst out, clapping his hands loudly. “i can practically see the sparks flying! ah, young love!”

toji finally broke character, raising a brow at gojo with a look of pure exasperation. “you gonna let me finish or not?”

gojo waved a hand. “fine, fine. but for real — if you two don’t kiss after this, i might have to stage a re-shoot.”

both you and toji threw your hands up simultaneously, voices raised in exasperation. 

“gojo, would you please stop interrupting!”

“yeah, seriously, man,” toji added, shaking his head as he glanced over at you with a shared look of pure frustration.

“okay, okay! sheesh!” gojo shrieked, actually shrieked, as he staggered back in mock terror, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “all i wanted was to witness some workplace romance! is that so wrong?”

“yes, gojo, very wrong,” you shot back, rubbing your temples. “this is literally supposed to be professional — you should know that.”

toji snorted, crossing his arms as he smirked at gojo. “for once, i agree. you’ve got all the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler.”

“excuse me,” gojo replied, flipping an imaginary hair strand over his shoulder. “i’ll have you know my artistic eye is very advanced.” he let out a huff, but from the grin on his face, you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

you shook your head, exasperated. “look, can we just get this recording done without any more —”

“interruptions,” toji finished for you, raising a brow as he glanced over at gojo.

“fine, fine!” gojo finally backed off, dramatically sliding into a chair in the corner, arms folded in mock offense. “i’ll be silent as a stone. a beautiful, thoughtful stone.”

you exchanged another look with toji, both of you sighing in unison. 

something told you both that it was going to be a very long day, especially with gojo’s creative direction…

toji, after finishing a solid block of recording, had ended up chatting with the sound techs, leaving you flipping through your phone while you waited. 

gojo, in his usual meddling fashion, suddenly brightened up and declared, “oh! why don’t you have a little chat with suguru? i told him you were here. he insisted on saying hello!”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh, sure?”

gojo sent you a link to join the video call, and soon suguru’s face popped up on the screen. his calm expression softened slightly when he saw you. “well, hello there. gojo wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had a new ‘star’ at the studio.”

you laughed, feeling a bit flustered. “thanks, geto! i hear you’re a partner at a... famous wine company?”

suguru gave a modest shrug. “yeah, it’s called persephone. it’s a small project that grew bigger than i expected. i handle a lot of the sourcing and marketing — keeps me away from here most of the time.”

“persephone? i’ve heard great things about it!” you said, genuinely impressed. “the way gojo talks about it, it sounds like a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, glancing to the side as if recalling memories. “i started it with a... friend, actually. she was passionate about wine and had a vision that i couldn’t help but support. i guess i have a soft spot for her, and i... well, care about her a lot.”

you felt your heart warm a little at his sincerity, and the slight hesitation when he spoke of his partner. “it sounds like you two have something special going on,” you said, offering a supportive smile. “i’m sure she appreciates everything you do, especially with how involved you are. and honestly? best of luck. that kind of partnership sounds really meaningful.”

suguru gave a small nod, a faint, appreciative smile on his face. 

“thank you. i think she’d like you. maybe one day, if you ever make it out here for one of gojo’s wild wine-tasting parties, we can all meet up.”

“i’d love that!” you replied, already imagining how intriguing that partnership might be. and as you finished up the conversation, it struck you that you’d gotten a glimpse of a different side of suguru — one he clearly didn’t reveal often.

toji hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the second he saw you on a video call with suguru, laughing over whatever he was saying, he couldn’t help it. he’d been halfway listening to the sound tech drone on about waveform patterns, but all of that faded when he caught sight of you smiling on-screen. 

who exactly were you talking to like that? why did you look so happy?

the tech was still talking beside him, but toji’s focus was elsewhere. 

suguru. 

that damn calm, collected face of his. 

the same suguru who he’d seen only sparingly around the company, mostly through gojo’s random updates, but who was still one of the few people gojo actually respected.

toji squinted, his jaw tightening as he took a few steps toward you and pretended it was a casual stroll.

why was he doing this? it wasn’t like he had any claim on you, right? 

sure, there was that one kiss — or, well, those two kisses, actually. 

but still. 

he was a grown man, not some jealous kid. yet here he was, feeling like he had to size up suguru over a damn screen.

before he even realized it, toji had closed the distance. without asking, he leaned over your shoulder, practically shoving his face into the camera view as he met suguru’s face.

“hey, suguru,” he drawled, and the way his voice came out a little gruff didn’t escape him. “didn’t know you were interrupting a busy studio day here.”

you blinked, wide-eyed at his sudden closeness, but toji kept his eyes on suguru, ignoring your flustered reaction. suguru looked almost amused, raising an eyebrow at toji’s unannounced intrusion.

“toji. i’m just saying hi to the new talent here,” suguru replied with a smooth smile, clearly unfazed. “i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me meeting one of satoru’s top finds.”

“top find?” toji scoffed, feeling a weird pang at the words. “i’m the one doing all the work here.”

you shot him a look, somewhere between surprised and amused. “toji —”

but he just grunted and kept going, ignoring your attempt to intervene. “so, suguru, been busy with all that wine business, huh?” he went on, as if suguru’s whole life story had suddenly become his priority.

“pretty much,” suguru replied, a slight smirk in his tone. “it’s been keeping me busy, and i have a…close partner who keeps me grounded. speaking of which,” he turned his gaze to you with an amused smile, “she was the one who started persephone. i’m really just there to support her vision.”

“sounds convenient,” toji muttered, but suguru just chuckled.

you nudged him with your elbow, giving him a warning look. “toji, come on,” you whispered, as if he was the one being out of line here.

he let out a low sigh, then pulled back slightly, looking at you as if he’d just remembered himself. “what? ’m just makin’ sure you’re not getting dragged into any fancy wine scams or whatever.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “geto’s company is doing fine, toji. it’s called persephone.”

toji folded his arms and gave a dismissive shrug. “well, just saying. i know people.” 

the whole room seemed to go a bit quieter, and toji cleared his throat, looking away from suguru's patient amusement.

“nice meeting you, toji,” suguru added, with a slight tilt of his head. “take care of our new ‘top find’ there, alright?”

toji clenched his jaw a little at the words, then nodded, pretending he wasn’t glaring at the camera. “yeah, yeah. we’re all set here.”

as the call ended, you turned to him, eyebrows raised, clearly wanting an explanation. “what was that about?”

toji scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “just, y’know…making sure you weren’t getting yourself in with shady people.”

“oh? like, you?”

he let out a bark of laughter, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. “hey, i’m not shady — i’m just thorough.”

you raised an eyebrow. “thorough? right, that’s the word you’re going with?”

“yeah. and what — you mad at me for caring?”

at that, you went quiet, a faint blush touching your cheeks. 

and toji? well, he could only think of those two kisses again, and how stupidly close he’d just gotten to the camera just to… what? size up suguru? 

he mentally groaned. what was wrong with him?

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[ckret2]

Chapter 73 of human Bill Cipher still being stuck in the Mystery Shack but currently fearing back pain more than execution: it's Day 1 of Bill being off death row, let's see what everyone other than Soos is doing with their day.

When Fiddleford answered the door to Ford and Stan—Stan with the Quantum Destabilizer's case slung over his shoulder—the first thing Fiddleford said was, "That demon's still alive, isn't he?"

"Demon's still alive," Stan confirmed.

Ford let out a long sigh. "I was afraid we'd have to break the news."

"I figured when the power here flickered during your shot." He planted his hands on his hips. "You didn't use the NowUSeeitNowUDontium, did you?"

Ford shook his head.

"Well?" Fiddleford fixed Ford with an angry squint, lips pursed. (Maybe it wasn't an angry squint, Ford told himself hopefully. Maybe it was just because Fiddleford didn't have new glasses yet.) "Why didn'cha shoot him?"

"I couldn't. He escaped," Ford said. As panic began to bloom on Fiddleford's face, Ford quickly added, "But he's back! That's why I used the wrong fuel. Somehow he overheard that we'd made enough Dontium for one shot, and he—tried to persuade me to cover his escape. Firing a blank made him think I'd used the Dontium up and he was safe—"

"—So's he'd come back and you could get a proper shot at him! Ha!" Fiddleford jumped up, kicking his heels in the air, hollering, "Stanford Pines, you clever sonovagun!" His hooting and hollering died down as he realized, "So... why're you here with the destabilizer instead of shooting him?"

Ford and Stan exchanged a glance. Stan said, "Well—He—He's pretty harmless right now, really—And he's great with the kids—"

"Not with Dipper," Ford muttered.

"He's great with one of the kids."

Ford said, "And he's..." It would be a lie to say improving, wouldn't it? "He's... got the potential to improve. And we— We thought— If there's a chance he could do better..."

Sternly, Fiddleford said, "You let him get into your head again, didn't you."

Ford sighed. "I let him get into my head."

Stan held out the Quantum Destabilizer's case. "Which is why we're here. He's not in your head. You won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

"I getcha." Fiddleford accepted the case grimly. "You need me to finish the job."

Ford hastily added, "If—if it becomes necessary."

Fiddleford gave him a hard look.

Ford swallowed as he realized—as always, a moment too late—just what an enormous thing he was asking of Fiddleford and his fragile nerves. "But if you don't think— I mean, if you'd rather it stay in our hands—"

Fiddleford held the Quantum Destabilizer away from Ford. "No, no—you're right. It's safer here," he said. "You oughta shoot him. I'm never not gonna think you oughta shoot him. Especially now we know he knows how to escape. But, if you won't—better that this is in my hands than with the fellers what let that devil sucker 'em into thinking he deserves to live."

Ford wanted to say I'm sorry. If he was so sorry, why had he chosen to let Bill live? It seemed like his problems always became Fiddleford's problems—yet the only times Fiddleford's problems became Ford's was when Ford caused them. "Well—the good news is, even if he does escape, he can't get far. He's trapped inside Gravity Falls' weirdness barrier."

"Well, that's somethin'," Fiddleford muttered. Then he frowned and gave Ford a sharp look. "Wait," he said slowly. "Are you sure he can't get out?"

"I—" Ford tried to remember when they'd learned that. "Sure, we—found out that first night, didn't we?" It had been a very long night.

"Yeah!" Stan laughed. "Almost accidentally killed the guy by driving him into it."

Fiddleford nodded, his expression faraway and thoughtful. "I need to run some calculations," he said. "I'll let you know what I find."

He turned away, muttering to himself. Just before he shut the door, Ford saw Tate at the far end of the great hall, arms crossed, watching the proceedings sourly.

And then the door was shut without so much as a goodbye.

"Huh," Stan said. "Ominous!" He clapped Ford on the shoulder. "Welp, let's get home!"

####

Tate leaned into Fiddleford's lab. "Dad?"

Fiddleford was sitting at a space he'd cleared at a worktable, hunched forward and squinting to see his work as he ran through a towering stack of calculations, using a calculator to double-check his math and a second calculator to double-check the first one. As he often did, he'd put on an old record to help block out distractions; and an old country song was blasting at top volume as Fiddleford sang/yodeled along: "I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son! How I looong to shoot that sonuuuvaguuun. I'll seeee my boy when that triaaangle's done—cuz I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son—"

"Dad," Tate said louder.

"Tater!" Fiddleford sat up, automatically reached to adjust a pair of glasses he wasn't wearing, and just bumped the bridge of his nose. "What is it, son?"

"Couldja turn the volume down?"

"Turn th—?" Fiddleford looked at his record player, started when he realized what was playing, and quickly took the needle off the record. "Sorry, Tater, I—"

"It's fine," Tate said glumly.

"Didn't even realize which song'd come on. They're just words to sing along to. You know I don't really feel..."

"Just don't like Pluckin' Jim's yodeling style, that's all."

Fiddleford dropped his gaze. "All right, that's fine. I'll keep it down."

Tate stuck his hands in his pockets. "Might oughta be careful with that album, anyway. If any guests overhear it talking about the triangle and call the police..."

"Oh, I know, I know. You're right, I'll be careful. It's just..." He reached under his hat to scratch at his head like he was trying to massage his brain into working. "When it feels like the whole darn world's gone crazy, it's comforting hearin' somebody sing something sensible," he said. "I—I don't mean Jim's attitude toward his family. Just the rest of it."

"Mm." Tate nodded.

Fiddleford sighed and shook his head sadly. "I don't know—maybe I'm the one who's going crazy."

"Naw," Tate said immediately. "You're not. You're the sanest I've seen you since I was a kid, dad."

"Well—thank you, Tater. That means a lot."

"You're just stressed, that's all." Tate nodded toward Fiddleford's stack of calculations. "Don't overwork yourself, all right?"

"I won't, I promise."

"If you need help with all that math..."

"No, no, that's all right." Fiddleford waved off the offer. "It's got to do with Stanford's weirdness thingamajig." For the past few months, Fiddleford and Stanford had been working on a paper about the Law of Weirdness Magnetism—although that had seemingly ground to a stop at the start of summer.

Tate paused. "Okay, but I'm dragging you out of there for meals."

"Heh! I won't fight you."

As Tate left, Fiddleford set the needle back on the record, starting the next song: "The Three B's Poisoning Your Children (Booze, Bebop, and Bill)." Tate shut the door and let out a long sigh.

####

"I'll get it!" Dipper doubted anyone else could even hear the phone; Abuelita was asleep in the living room, Soos was upstairs hammering on something, and Bill and Mabel were at the far end of the house playing the piano and singing.

Dipper jogged into the office. "Hello?"

"Dipper!" Wendy said. "Dude! Just the man I wanted to reach."

"Wendy, hey! What's up?"

"Are you still looking for the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes! Why, did something happen?"

A couple weeks earlier, Wendy had shown him where her brother had seen the Fremont Nightwigglers; but by the time she showed him the path, they'd already come and gone a couple nights earlier. They'd found footprints and followed them to what looked like a campsite—there were odd empty burrows in the ground and traces of ashes—but when Dipper had tried to figure out where they'd gone after leaving the campsite, he'd lost their trail in the underbrush.

"Gus says he saw them on the same trail again last night," Wendy said. "Which means, if they were going back to that place we found with the burrows, and it was a campsite—"

"—then that's where they're camping today. So they'll still be there tonight!" Dipper laughed. "That's perfect! I can stake them out and watch when they wake up! Hey, do you wanna come along for a stakeout?"

Wendy groaned. "I wish. Gus freaked my dad out talking about the Nightwigglers. He says we have to stay home after dark and he's actually been checking our rooms."

"Aw, man. That stinks."

"But hey, tell me all about it at work, okay?"

"You got it! Oh—I could make a Guide to the Unexplained episode! I'll show you the whole thing."

"Oh, awesome. I can't wait to see these things," Wendy said. "Head's up, you probably wanna be quiet to avoid spooking them. Gus said they looked super skittish last night. They're probably wigging out because of gravity disappearing for a couple of days, lots of other wild animals are. I don't blame them, I'm still wondering what was up with that."

"Giant invisible flying axolotl from another dimension."

Wendy laughed in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! I'll tell you about it at work too." Probably leaving out Bill's involvement. Speaking of Bill, where had he left Dipper's backpack? "I've gotta pack for the stakeout. Thanks for the tip!"

####

Gideon knocked on the shack's back door and waited anxiously, tugging at his sleeves and shifting from foot to foot.

The door opened to the sound of distant piano music. Dipper stood there holding a heavy backpack and a box of granola bars. "Gideon?" He didn't sound thrilled.

"Well, hey there, Dipper!" Gideon tried to sound more chipper than he felt. "I don't suppose Mabel's ar—"

"Nope," Dipper said. "What do you want?"

Gideon took a deep breath. "It's about Bill—"

"Shhh!" Dipper cast a nervous glance back toward Soos's grandma asleep in the living room. "Keep it down. Only Mabel and I know you know about Bill and no one else can find out."

"Why not?"

"Because... Mabel and I will get in trouble for not telling them sooner?"

Fair enough. Adults didn't need to know everything, Gideon thought. Voice lower, he said, "I didn't notice him with the others at Rainbow Club this week, and I saw that big laser thingamabob at the shack,"—and the next day received a panicked call from a cultist who couldn't reach Bill—"and... well—I need to know if Bill's dead, or—"

Over the piano playing, an off-key voice sang at top volume: "AND IIIIIIIIII will never HATE yooOoOOou—!" In the living room, Abuelita started from her nap, blinked sleepily, turned up the volume on the TV, and fell back asleep.

Gideon's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"Still alive," Dipper said. "He has a really bad backache, though."

"Well, dang it!" Gideon kicked at a twig on the porch. It didn't move.

"Yeah, I know," Dipper said. "But... I kinda think Bill has to stay alive? I heard this prophecy that I think is about Bill saving everyone? Probably not voluntarily—he actually really didn't want me to hear about the prophecy—so... yeah, we might just be stuck with him. At least for a while."

"Well," Gideon said sourly. "Isn't that just wonderful."

####

As he trudged home, Gideon tried to think of a way out of this. For one day, he'd thought he was blessedly free of Bill; finding out he was wrong felt like getting hauled back to prison.

If the adults didn't know he knew about Bill, maybe he could tell the Stans that Bill had been using him—surely they'd forgive Gideon for using a little dream magic to brainwash the town, right? Stan understood the lengths a businessman had to go to to advertise his business, and Ford was apparently the one who'd recorded the spell in the first place—and maybe the two of them could prevent Bill from spilling his blackmail to the rest of the town; or maybe Gideon could arrange for the Stans to "accidentally" find out Gideon had been working for Bill, and then Bill couldn't blame Gideon for spilling the beans...

Or maybe he could just stop helping Bill. Simple as that. He knew he'd been helping Bill arrange escape plans. Bill had promised he'd keep quiet about Gideon's crimes as long as Gideon didn't pick up dream magic again; but he'd never required Gideon to help him. The only issue was what his contact in Bill's cult might do and whether she might out him as one of Bill's allies; maybe he could just tell her that his parents were getting suspicious and he couldn't be a go-between anymore...

When he got home, as soon as he opened the front door he could hear his father excitedly talking in the kitchen: "It's the darnedest thing! I don't know where they came from—must be tourists, I suppose..."

Gideon followed his voice into the kitchen. "Daddy? What's all this fuss?"

Bud was grinning from ear to ear; even Joy was faintly smiling, a half-washed dish forgotten in her yellow-gloved hands. "There you are," Bud said. "Son, I've got the most terrific news! I just sold the three most expensive cars on the lot, all on the same day! Can you believe that?!"

"Well, hot dog!" Gideon grinned as well, relief washing over him. "That oughta keep us going for a while, shouldn't it?"

"It sure will! I guess you were right—we never needed any magic hocus-pocus, just good salesmanship!" Bud beamed. "But it's just the darnedest thing," he said again, "they all said they'd been referred to the dealership by a Mr. Locke."

Gideon's smile froze and his stomach flipped.

"I don't remember any Mr. Locke passing through town."

"Oh," Joy said, "there was one a—a week or two ago. Some sort of talent agent, I think? He came to see Gideon."

"Did he," Bud said, clearly a bit deflated that it wasn't his prowess as a salesman that had lured these customers to town; but he quickly recovered, "Why, that's wonderful! Maybe looking to line up another television appearance?"

"No no no," Gideon said quickly, "no, it was—it was purely a social visit. I-I knew him last summer. I'm not doing that sort of... television thing anymore."

"Ah, well. Still! Having connections pays off," Bud said. "If all he wants to do is send customers our way, I'll be mighty happy! If he comes by again, invite him to stay for dinner, it's the least we can offer him as thanks."

"I think that's a—a wonderful idea," Joy said, voice even softer than usual. "He was very friendly."

"Son?" Bud called. "Where you headed?"

"Just upstairs, I remembered I need to make a call," Gideon said. He had to ensure Sue knew Bill was alive.

Seemed like he'd be working with her and Bill for a while yet. His family couldn't afford for him not to.

####

Dipper pounced the Stans the moment they entered the shack. "Hey! Great Uncle Ford!" 

"Dipper? What—"

"Grunkle Ford, remember you promised that as soon as we weren't dealing with any Bill bull, we could go on an investigation—?"

"Hey," Stan said sternly, "any Bill what?"

"Bull... soup?" Dipper tried.

Stan nodded, satisfied. "That's right. And if your parents ask, that's exactly what you think it means." At Ford's look of amazement, Stan said, "What! Last year the kids' parents said if they came home swearing, I couldn't take 'em over the summer again."

Dipper resumed his attack: "Well, we're not dealing with any Bill bullsoup today! Come help me track the Nightwigglers!" He held up his journal, proudly showing off his unfinished spread. "Wendy told me where they're camping today! If we're there before they wake up, we can finally see them in person!"

"Really? Tonight?" Ford asked. "We just had a late night yesterday."

"Can't we have two late nights and sleep in tomorrow?" Dipper pled. "They might not be there tomorrow night! What's more important: sleep, or seeing the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes, I see your point. You're absolutely right," Ford said. "I could take a nap now and we can leave after dinner."

"Yes!"

Stan groaned, "Great—the insomniacs are enabling each other." He shook his head and started upstairs, muttering, "I'm gonna see what Soos is hammering on."

Dipper said, "I've already packed my camping supplies! Do you need help packing? I can help you pack! Come on—I can show you where we're going, too!" He impatiently led the way to the elevator.

####

This weekend, Bill had escaped the shack, faked his death, and proven that the whole Pines family actually wanted him alive; and yet, for all that, Mabel thought he seemed pretty down in the dumps today. He'd been kind of off since the eclipse.

Actually, now that she thought about it, he'd been off since before the eclipse, ever since the day he'd been grumpy to her about the glass pyramid "Mysteries." She was pretty sure he wasn't mad at her about that anymore; so she didn't know what was wrong.

But even though Mabel could see him wince when he leaned certain ways or moved his arms too quickly, he was trying to hide that he was in pain and he was trying to hide his gloomy mood. He grinned when he played the piano, and he alternated between popular songs that she knew and could sing along with and a bunch of old boring things like jazz and opera. (Bill tried to sing along to everything, even when he shouldn't. Mabel was pretty sure he was the worst opera soprano in the world.)

She didn't know how to fix whatever was actually bothering him. She could hang out with him and sing and talk—that seemed to make him happier. But Bill needed more than that.

He needed more friends.

Bill attempted a run, one hand crossing over the other and back as he rolled up the keyboard; his hands tripped over each other and stumbled across several keys at once.

Mabel laughed. "That sounded like a musical fart!"

Bill blew a raspberry. "I'll show you a musical fart." He attempted the run again, and messed up again.

Mabel laughed again. "I don't think you've got that part."

"Hey! I'm usually great at that part. It's this body—I'm used to playing it with flat fingers, I haven't practiced it with an extra dimension before," said Bill, who was lying, and had never been good at that part, and truthfully was pleased he now had an excuse that let him pretend he was actually better than he was. "Playing piano in a human body really holds me back. It takes nine hands to play my favorite song." That wasn't a lie.

He started the song over and elbowed Mabel. "Hey. Something's eating at you. What's up, kid?"

She hadn't realized she wasn't hiding her gloomy thoughts well enough. "Uuugh, I want you to meet my friends, but this morning Grunkle Ford said I still can't invite them over even though you're off death row. I guess he and Grunkle Stan are still worried you'll brainwash them or something?"

"Pff. We're still—renegotiating the terms of my imprisonment."

"Oh yeah? What have you renegotiated so far?"

The corners of Bill's mouth turned down. Mabel suspected that might have something to do with his foul mood. "Hey, I've got an idea to get your friends over here."

"Yeah?"

"Tell your uncles that the girls' parents are starting to wonder why you haven't been inviting them over like you did last summer. Say they're beginning to think that something is going on over here, and they're worried you're not in a safe environment—buuut if their kids can come over and see everyone's just been adjusting to a new guest, maaaybe their parents will calm down, right?"

Mabel shot Bill a dirty look. "Bill! That's a complete lie."

"But it's the kind of lie that could easily be true, and might even be true in the future, so is it really a lie?"

"Yeah it is."

"No it's not! Besides, it'll get your friends over here and it won't hurt anything, won't it?"

Mabel grimaced. "Okay, I can try—but if I try it and it works and I bring my friends over, you've got to make friends with them."

"Hmm!" Bill's face twisted up. "I like Candy's taste in art. And her bloodthirst."

Mabel elbowed him. "What do you have against Grenda?"

####

Eight-year-old Grenda sat at her desk kicking her feet and staring at her $1 bill, waiting for the bell to ring for lunch. It was Chocolate Chip Cookie Monday, they were fresh and gooey, and she was ready.

For the first time, she noticed the design on the dollar had a weird little one-eyed triangle with a hat. She pulled out a marker and drew a little smile under his eye.

And then she added buck teeth to the smile.

And then she gave him a second eye, stupid glasses, and a spiky beard that poked out in every direction.

And then drew wavy stink lines over him and added a word bubble that said "I'M SMELLY!"

"Heh. Stupid looking guy," she mumbled.

####

With an air of haughty disdain, Bill said, "She knows what she did."

"Okay, but you'll be nice to her, right? Pleeease?"

"All right, fine," Bill said. "For you, I'll be nice."

####

"Grunkle Stannn can my friends please come over? Even their parents think it's weird that they haven't been here all summer! If Grenda and Candy come over they'll know nothing weird's going on!"

"Uhhh..." Stan grimaced. "The last thing we need is parents asking questions... Yeah, sure, you should probably do that sometime soon. Maybe after we figure out what we're doing with Bill for the rest of the summer—"

"Thanks!" Mabel hugged him, ran off, and decided she'd heard Stan say "yeah, sure, you should."

She pulled out her phone. "Candy! Grenda!" She kept her voice at a loud whisper. "Great news! Dipper's gonna be out with Grunkle Ford tonight and I kinda-sorta got permission for a sleepover! Get ready for a party. I have a plan."

####

(This is a bit of a transition chapter for a couple more plots, but I hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know what you think!)

[writingforatwistedworld]

Hi! Can i ask for a self aware twst when the reader surprises adopted Silver as their son. Like just pointing at him and saying 'you are my child now' with Silver, Lilia and Sebek. Hope you have a good day!

Hehe. Anon, you know what you are doing. In fact, I would say you even want the chaos. And for that I love you come here so I can hug you.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Diasomnia chapter spoilers (Lilias part, maybe Sebek), religion, violence, isolation, kidnapping, obsessive behavior

Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Silver/Sebek Zigvolt-Adopting Silver

Oh ok. Cool cool coolcoolcoolcoolcool

Well, at least that one room dedicated to you in the form of an altar can now be used for more practical uses (finally)

When Lilia heard you say those words and point at his son, he fell from the chandelier he was dangling from

Not only did he have to navigate through not accidentally telling his son that he was the blood related son of an enemy general and that exactly this general killed Malleus mom

But also that he had now a second parent that also happened to be god

Mhm totally normal

Conversations to strangers about his family were already playing out like this in his head:

Hi, I am Lilia Vanrouge, yes the one in your history book, this is my son Silver, yes he looks like a certain knight, and my lovely partner and also parent of this lovely human, yes, FU**ING GOD THEMSELVES

Ah yes, sitting in church will totally not be awkward after this

Bro legit sits you down with a pen and paper, asking you to sign the marriage certificate

Asks you what flowers you want to have on your wedding. Doesn't matter if you are a woman, man or identify as something else, he is planning that

Also has already planned out how to get you into the Valley of Thorns without anyone noticing

Because no matter how devoted he is to you, he will always be too greedy to share your attention with someone else

You could have said this as a joke or some other protective instinct towards the silver-haired male but all that man's father hears is a marriage proposal

Lilia is just happy that you feel some sort of positive way to his family member (makes things easier when you are stuck in that cabin)

I mean, he did see Silver as a present from you, a child meant to bring him back to the light after being so long in the shadow of war

And now the three of you were together! How lovely!

Which would mean that you planned this all along. Dear Overseer, if you liked the idea of you being a family you could have just told him so

He will be the best partner to raise a child together you could dream of

And should someone dare to interrupt the perfect, peaceful life you three (plus two more) had, he wouldn't mind swinging that sword again

Wait what?

What do you mean with that?

Are you sure you want him to be your son? Really?

Apparently he was not the only one surprised since he could hear the thud of his father falling to the ground behind him and Seek screaming somewhere behind him

Be prepared for a silver haired knight to look at you with the biggest puppy eyes and ask "Do you really want me as you son?"

Critical hit! Someone call a doctor. I think the Valley of Thorns god can be killed by cuteness

After that he is glued to your side (even though you have to part sooner or later since he is not living in Ramshackle)

One morning you woke up to the guy standing there with some food being like "I made some food."

Like where the Heck did he even get the keys for the dorm? (He broke in through a hole in the ceiling)

Silver always comes running to you whenever he does something and wants praises

Once he was best in one of his classes and he stood there with the report like he could turn into a dog and get headpats from you any second

But, as I am sure you are aware of, this is a blog with yandere themes and we have to say goodbye to the fluff at some point

That sword training comes in handy is all I'm saying

I mean, he has probably enough strength to break someone's leg with his bare hands by simply applying some pressure

And that one Diasomnia student that tried to take his son-status away from him was found again in a not-so-compatible-state-with-life kind of situation

I'm letting you imagine what happened

Like Lilia he is ready to burn everyone who dares to interfere with your little family

The forests of his homeland are pretty though so no need to worry about the appearance of your surroundings once they bring you to your new home (who needs social interaction anyways?)

A second of silence

And then the screaming started

“OH HOW KIND OF OUR OVERSEER! TO SHOW A MORTAL THEIR KINDNESS AND CARING SIDE!”

Seek would be lying if he said that he wasn't surprised

You, aka the Overseer, aka some higher being, AKA GOD, were known in the Valley of Thorns to be kind and caring, yet also distant and never approaching others directly

But then you literally adopt someone, making that person someone in your inner cycle?

Well, if Sebek knew one thing then that those Priests were going to have a crisis as soon as they learned about this

Totally not jealous

He would try to get closer to you since, apparently, you did allow others to get close to you

But he was happy as long as you were

After all, he was now the (not-so-official appointed) shield of the Valley of Thorns, something he got passed on by his grandfather

So of course he couldn't be family with you

That didn't mean he couldn't “help” you

Someone intruded on that dinner you had with Lilia and Silver?

Ouch… that punch must have hurt

Whenever Silver or his Father had to interfere because someone else came too close then they were some incredibly slick (looking at you Rook) or lucky person

Don't let his loud mouth fool you

This crocodile has done unmentionables in your name in order to make things easier for your new found family

For what? Oh you know, becoming his neighbor back home… forever

[sunderwight]

SVSSS "no Abyss" fluff AU where Shen Qingqiu just keeps accidentally proposing to a full grown disciple Luo Binghe in ways that don't register to him, but do register to Binghe, but Binghe also knows that his Shizun is clueless and doesn't actually mean it, so he's trapped in a hell of constantly getting what he desires most and fighting the urge to take advantage of the situation in order to actually claim it.

For instance, it turns out that PIDW has a knock-off version of Valentine's Day thanks to one really ill-planned VIP chapter. Shen Qingqiu found that one so egregious even he mostly scrubbed it from his mental records, but the long and short of it is that in the PIDW chocolate exists, but it's a symbolic treat that is only meant to be given to someone you intend to marry.

Of course, Shen Qingqiu discovers chocolate in PIDW and IMMEDIATELY hands it over to Luo Binghe, because he wants to see how Binghe's magnificent cooking skills can utilize this ingredient. Also he wants bon bons and this seems like the only way he's gonna get any in this lifetime.

Naturally, Binghe does make delicious bon bons, all the while fighting down the urge to be like "you proposed so we're getting married now, no take backs!"

Shizun eats the chocolates and Binghe counts slowly backwards from ten and reminds himself that getting what he wants by way of trickery would ultimately deny him what he wants most, which is for Shen Qingqiu to choose him of his own volition.

And of course, this shit just keeps happening. Somehow Shen Qingqiu keeps "forgetting" (read: subconsciously repressing) the little details about various proposal customs in PIDW (of which there are A LOT thanks to all the wife acquisitions) and proposing to Binghe almost constantly. This part of the world has a special ritual proposal wine? Better give some to Binghe! This demonic cult requires one to present a specific monster kill to their intended? Shen Qingqiu just so happened to kill one such monster himself and now he's given it over to Binghe to claim the parts (Binghe's cultivation would make better use of them!) They're visiting a neighboring sect where couples traditionally tie their wrists together with a particular type of rope as a symbol of engagement? Somehow, someway, Shen Qingqiu is going to find a good reason to tie himself to Binghe with the betrothal rope.

Not only is this dance giving Luo Binghe intense mixed feelings, and causing him to lie awake at night trying to figure out if Shen Qingqiu somehow does actually know what he's doing, and wants Binghe to bamboozle him into a marriage (or is that just wishful thinking??), it also causes him ever-more stress whenever SQQ goes on a mission with anyone else.

Especially Liu Qingge.

What if he does the clueless not-proposing to Liu Qingge? What if Liu Qingge proves to be less strong-willed than Luo Binghe (absolutely possible) and "accepts"? What if he's stupid enough to not figure out that Shen Qingqiu is a clueless idiot, and thinks it's genuine?

Shizun might marry him just to avoid having an awkward conversation!

Anyway things come to a head when finally, for once, Luo Binghe is the one who does the accidental proposal. And this time Shen Qingqiu does notice, and he gets all flustered and scolds Binghe to "be more careful" and "not waste such gestures on this old master, or anyone Binghe doesn't want taking advantage!" and Luo Binghe, who has aged one thousand decades in the past few years, still nobly resists the urge to lay out all the times Shizun has made this exact same "mistake" towards him and instead just confesses. Shoots his shot. Now or never!

He almost immediately regrets it because he had a whole plan for how to slowly ease Shizun into the idea over the course of several years, and he's prepared to be rejected now that he's fucked that up. Because he knows his master is delicate about stuff like this. Why else would he be so atypically obtuse?

But, well. Shen Qingqiu always said that the most realistic thing about the harem was that no one in their right mind would turn down a marriage proposal from Luo Binghe.

So he just, uh, says yes?

Binghe's like, you mean this whole time all I had to do was be the one to ask?!

But also he's really too happy to give a shit about the particulars either. They will have a beautiful wedding! No take backs. If SQQ gets cold feet then Luo Binghe has a list and compiled evidence of fifty million marriage proposals from him, so now he definitely has to follow through!

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol switcharoo (pt3)

Stan pines x reader/ ford pines x reader

Summary: 30 years pass and you meet stanfords family.

Warning: NONE

Sorry for another short chapter. Consider this a filler episode. Chapter four should be better.

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

30 years is a long time.

You can do a lot in that time.

You can live a lot of different lives in 30 years.

You started cutting your hair in that time, Stanford taught you to box, You'd gone on many different adventures. Most of which you often questioned the legality of, but they still made you laugh.

Now you mainly tended to the Mystery shack no more adventures, you wondered as you sat on the couch next to Stanford when you'd gotten so old. And when your life had changed so much.

You had almost forgotten all about anything before your family vacation. you and Stanford had grown into a pretty comfortable life together. You wouldn't lie you'd come to love the life you've grown into with him.

But you've also missed the adventures you used to go on, finding monsters , exploring the unknown.

But you were only met with gluing eyeballs to pieces of plastic halloween decorations and making up stories to make out of towns folk get a good laugh in.

You had tried to find Stanfords journals just to "relive the glory days" but with no luck.

You were never sure what happened to them, if he had accidentally tossed them out, if he had lost them himself or if that was part of what happened while you where away. Either way you stopped looking. You never asked about them either.

Stanford seemed to really enjoy his life with you too, you never got the idea he wanted to turn back or like he was waiting for some big adventure.

"This may sound corny but you and the mystery shack are my big adventure...I wouldn't trade you or the old shack for anything y/n. Not. For. ANYTHING."

So you stopped worrying yourself with the journals or the old research, let alone the real monsters that lurked in the woods.

You hunkered down, sold stories and bumper stickers in your matching suits and watched night time television before falling asleep on top of eachother every night.

This was the routine you'd fallen into. You found it odd if you had to sleep without Stanfords shoulder as your pillow or his jolt of laughter before he realized you fell asleep. It was odd for both of you to not debate who got giftshop duity over tour duties. (You always got gift shop.)

It was odd when a pair of twins arrived on your front lawn.

"You never talk about your family." You said following Stanford down the stairs to meet them. "Sure I do." He said clearly a little nervous.

"Mmm no...I didn't know you had a sister! Let alone great neices and nephews!..excuse us, Soos." You say almost chasing him through the gift shop almost knocking soos over.

He paused as both of you looked out the little door window at them. "Listen...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my family... to be fair... we aren't really close..but somethings came up and-" You could see his stress building up as he tried to piece together something that made you understand how important it was to make a good impression on those kids.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here with you... you can explain it all later, but right now, I'm right by your side, like always." He smiled and placed a hand on top of yours.

Before heading outside to me, you are in tow.

"I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A GREAT AUNT! A GRANT!? A GRRR...GRAUNT!?" The girl in the pair shouted excitedly after stan had introduced you to them.

"That's cause you don't. We aren't married y/ns a friend."

You laughed at the girl who energetically and enthusiastically introduced herself as Mable. The introduction was followed by several need to know now questions, all of which would later be scribbled onto a paper for you to fill out and return to her.

☆what's your favorite color

☆ do you like my grunkle stan?

☆if you were a magical creature, what would you be? Why? WHAT WOULD I BE? why?

☆do you LOOOOVEEE grunkle stan?

☆opinion on stickers?

"Alright, you two leys get you up to your room for the summer." Stan said, pulling Mable away from you and grabbing her bags.

You grabbed the second set of bags and followed stan and the two kids.

"Dipper, right?" You asked the boy who fell in line with you "oh yea! Yep that's me!" He laughed nervously.

"Very cool name,I like your hat by the way." You prayed you didn't seem like you were trying too hard to get them to like you.

"So you and grunkle stan run this place?" Dipper asked, looking at all your hot glue collages as Stanford decided to give them the grand tour before their room.

"Yup." You nodded.

"What's the point? Isn't this all fake? I mean... I can see the string on the invisible man's glasses." He said pointing out the attraction as you passed.

"Oh c'mon Dipper, how could you not love the jackalope!? Is he a deer? Is he a rabbit? I can't tell!" Mable said, carrying the creature in her arms like a teddy bear.

"I just don't get it? Why lie to people when I'm sure there has to be something real out there!"

You smiled at him. He sounded like you when you were a kid...he sounded more like Stanford before the shack. "You like the supernatural?" You asked.

"Oh yea, dippers a huge nerd he loves all that junk!" Mable said punching her brother in the shoulder.

"Oh, here we go! Don't get this one started on mystery and supernatural boogie men!" Stanford said, stopping to join your conversation.

"Y/n used to be big on hunting and looking for stuff like this." He said, wrapping his arm around you. "Used too...I haven't in over 30 years...it got too complicated." You opted to give them a simple answer as to why you stopped.

"Really!? That's so cool!" Dipper exclaimed. "If you ever need someone to go on adventures with, you can trust me."

Over the upcoming weeks, it was slightly rocky with the kids getting settled in, but eventually, they started warming up to the shack as well as yourself and Stanford.

You were quite pleased to have their company, actually. You felt something change in your everyday lives when they entered the shack.

"Depending on who you ask." You said continuing your story as you placed plates in front of the kids. "Your grunkle and I are married." The kids gasped. "Only through some silly machine in Vegas it wasn't real there was this one time -"

Stan chuckled to himself as you told the story of your fake marriage in Vegas as he watched the three of you laugh in the kitchen.

He smiled. Watching you frantically move your arms to further dramatice the story, a certain shine he'd noticed had been missing from your eyes for a few years now. You had it when he'd met you.

The same day, he knew things would be different for him. They HAD been different. You accepted him for everything he was. You went along with his crazy shenanigans. You gave up a whole life for him.

He remembered the birthday parties you had thrown for him. Even if you were the only person to be there for him.

He knew after a few years of you doing so that you would always be the only one there. He had the strangest feeling the night of his 35 birthday when he realized this.

He lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling when it occurred to him what the feeling was.

"Oh no."

He quietly snuck away from you and the kids, still hearing your laughter erupt through the house behind him. He made his way into the darkened gift shop and punched a code into the vending machine, and went down to the basement he swore to you he'd destroyed.

30 years, and all he had offered you was lies. After all you'd done for him after all the care you'd shown him after all you had sacrificed. He just wanted you to have a normal life. A good life.

Not something he had fabricated.

He spent most of his time thinking about the large machine that still sat in his basement, the other half worrying about you. If he was giving a good life if he was soing as good a job being in your life as you had done for him.

He worried about what might happen when, IF he was able to pull of bringing his brother back.

How would you react to being lied to for 30 years. Maybe you did really feel the same way he had felt about you for years and you would forgive him.

In order for that to work, he'd have to actually admit his feelings to you.

He wanted to, he also wanted do a lot more for you in the 30 years you'd been together but always failed before he could make a move or do anything really. He pushed aside a notepad filled with ideas of kind gestures he could do for you (most of which were crossed out) and replaced the space with the journal Ford had left him.

He would get it right.

All of it.

Eventually.

Then again.

He could always ask Mable.

While you laughed with two kids at a dinner table and Stanley beat himself up about lying and tried to rebuild his life.

The real Stanford pines sat out there amongst the stars with nothing but a creased photo of the two of you and wondered why it was taking you so long to find him.

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~

Taglist:

@muffin1304

@katharine3000

@leo4242564

@space1crow

@steveharringtongf

@mckennaishere07

@nothingbutcloud

@anicega

@i-am-tiredd

@babydoll-143

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

@bandaids-n-porceline

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[f0ofishies]

ᯓ★ Tutoring With Armin ⭑.ᐟ

nerd!armin realizing you need some help in that biology class you both decided to attend. He'll look at you, those ocean eyes gazing as you struggled on a test.

nerd!armin hearing you complaining to your friends how you flunk out that test. Your whining being heard throughout the hallways, a bit melodramatic in his opinion.

nerd!armin, who looked into your eyes when they sparkled right after he gave his contact number to you. Offering a two tutoring session with you for the next chapter for your biology class.

nerd!armin, who agreed to meet you up in the library. The way you thanked him multiple times on being free on a damn saturday night.. yeah.. he was atleast understanding with you.

nerd!armin, who you end unfortunately getting lucky. The library was closed at the weekends. Small curses from your end, as you told him, to cancel this whole tutoring session for today.

nerd!armin being kind enough to let you study in his dormitory, knowing full well the consequences if he got caught having someone in his dorms past late hours, which could cause a whole rumor.

nerd!armin giving you his notes from his leathered notebook, you could tell he used a hefty amount of money– making it even more funnier how he would take his class seriously.

nerd!armin's hand brushing against yours, not noticing the way his heart skips a beat. He never had anyone in his personal sanctuary before, let alone someone who'd he tutor.. he was a nice guy, definetly being nice.

nerd!armin, who's getting his living soul sucked off so badly on the bed. His pale palm, gripping at your hair, tugging on the loose strands. The way your tongue immediately flattened on his pink dick.

nerd!armin looking down as you pulled your cum stained mouth away to jerk put his orgasm again. "Told you, 'min a hands-on activity was a good idea?" You cooed as he let out another loud groan.

nerd!armin, who cums a massive load staining your loose shirt and even on your face! "Sorry– sorry..!" He huffed out long apologies, hearing your laughter under him. You gave a small peck to his puckering tip oozing out a bit more load. "wanna know what the other lips can do?"

nerd!armin , who is also a virgin, and that was his real experience of someone sucking him off. You were beamed that you were his first ever. As some of his load trailed down your throat, he unexpectedly reached out to wipe away but squeezed it a bit. It earned a stifled moan in you.

nerd!armin, that's trying his best to keep up with your thrusts.. your ass hitting back onto his pelvis. Hips rolling and everything as he moans out your name– he's really going to cum inside if you don't stop..! He ended up gripping your hips to try and slow you down, it failed miserably.

nerd!armin crying at you, screaming out apologies as he accidentally unpack his load all over inside you. It's oozing out lewdly, he liked it– of course he did, but he didn't want you uncomfortable at all.

nerd!armin, who now takes the lead in this fucked up situation you both made. He thrusts into you once again, not caring if the librarians or passerbys can listen. One hand on your throat, the other at the your hips.

"Keep your legs up f'me.. shiitt.. mm just like that bunny.. keep bouncing on–uh it.. yesyesyes.. so close.."

[seoulzie]

beyond the books

WHEREIN: two top students, initially just classmates turn out to be ridiculously in love with each other

彡 pairing: student!soobin x gn!reader 彡 genre: fluff 彡 warnings: none :)

⋆.˚𓆝 read the whole collection here!

you and soobin started as casual classmates, just two top students sharing a competitive camaraderie. it wasn't unusual for the two of you to exchange notes, help each other with tricky problems, or simply greet each other in the hallways. however, as time went on, those simple interactions began to evolve.

you found yourself catching his lingering glances during class, and your brief conversations started to stretch into long, meaningful talks. despite the increase in time spent together, you both managed to keep things relatively platonic—or so you thought.

one day, as you were packing up your books after a particularly challenging lecture, soobin approached you with a nervous smile.

"hey, y/n," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "i was thinking... do you want to maybe go to that new café near campus? we could have a study session there."

surprised, you looked up at him. "the one with the ryan pastries?"

"yeah, that's the one!" soobin's eyes lit up, his excitement palpable. "i heard they have a really nice atmosphere for studying."

you agreed, not thinking much of it beyond the usual academic assistance. "sure, sounds good. when are you thinking?"

"how about tomorrow after classes?" he suggested, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and nervousness.

"perfect," you replied with a smile. "i'll see you there."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the next day, you found yourself seated across from soobin in the cozy café, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods surrounding you. the atmosphere was comfortable, filled with the quiet rustle of papers and the occasional soft laugh and accidental touches as you reached for your drinks or passed each other notes.

"so, how's your preparation for the finals going?" soobin asked, taking a sip of his iced latte.

"it's going alright," you replied, twirling your pen between your fingers. "i still need to review the last few chapters. what about you?"

"same here," soobin admitted with a sheepish grin. "i was hoping we could go over them together."

as you both dived into your notes, you couldn't help but notice how close soobin was sitting next to you. how his arm brushed against yours, sending tiny sparks of electricity up your skin. the casual touches felt oddly intimate, and you found yourself hyper-aware of his presence.

"do you understand this part?" you asked, pointing to a particularly complex equation.

soobin leaned in closer, his shoulder pressing against yours as he studied the page. "yeah, i think so. here, let me show you."

his voice was soft and reassuring, and you felt a warmth spread through you as he explained the problem. his proximity made it hard to concentrate, but you tried your best to focus on the task at hand.

after a while, you both took a break, sipping your drinks and enjoying the comfortable silence. you looked around the café, noticing the cozy ambiance and the other students engrossed in their own studies.

"soobin, this place is really nice," you said, glancing back at him. "thanks for suggesting it."

he smiled, a hint of shyness in his expression. "i'm glad you like it. i thought it would be a good change of pace."

these "study sessions" soon became a regular thing, and it wasn't long before your friends started to notice how close you'd become. they teased you relentlessly, often saying things like, "just get together already!" whenever someone pointed out how obvious it was that you liked soobin, you'd get defensive, your face flushing.

"what! no! i'm not!" you'd protest, crossing your arms defensively.

but your friends would only exchange knowing looks, amused by your denial. "sure, sure," they'd say teasingly, nudging each other knowingly whenever you and soobin were nearby.

it was the same for soobin. he'd turn red and stutter through his denials, just as clueless as you were about the true nature of his feelings.

despite the teasing, neither you nor soobin seemed to acknowledge the growing attraction between you. you continued to meet for "study sessions" at the café, your conversations becoming more animated and your touches more deliberate.

one day, during one of these study sessions, as you and soobin laughed over a particularly silly mistake in your notes, you caught your friends watching you with amused smiles. 

soon, your friends joined your table with knowing grins, settling in as if they had been waiting for this moment.

"so, what's going on here?" one of your friends teased, nudging you playfully.

"just going over material," you replied casually, though your heart raced with anticipation.

"soobin, you're looking awfully cozy with y/n today," another friend chimed in with a grin.

soobin chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. "we're just studying... you know how it is."

your friends exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle. despite your protests, they could see what was happening between you and soobin, even if you couldn't admit it to yourselves yet.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

during one of your regular café meet-ups, you found yourself pondering your relationship with soobin. the way he made you feel, the way your heart fluttered at his shy smile—it was undeniable. you decided it was time to get to the bottom of things.

"soobin," you began, breaking the comfortable silence. "do you like me?"

his eyes widened, and a deep blush spread across his cheeks. "w-what? i mean... why do you ask?"

you smiled, feeling your own cheeks heat up. "it's okay," you reassured him gently, then turned your attention back to your notes. "i like you too."

the café seemed to fall into complete silence, the world outside disappearing as soobin processed your words. you continued to review your notes, acting as if you hadn't just dropped a bombshell. soobin, on the other hand, was frozen in place, his mind racing.

finally, he broke the silence with a tentative, "so... are we dating now?"

you looked up from your notes, meeting his bewildered gaze with a warm smile. "yep."

"oh," he said, still looking flustered. there was a moment of silence before he asked, "uhm... what now?"

you laughed, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours. "i guess we can hold hands tighter now."

soobin's lips curled into a shy smile, his eyes sparkling with happiness. "sounds like a plan."

from that day forward, your study sessions were filled with more than just academic discussions. you held hands openly, your friends' teasing turning into congratulatory remarks. the lingering glances turned into affectionate looks, and the long talks were now interspersed with shy kisses and sweet moments.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

one sunny afternoon, you and soobin were sitting under the large oak tree in the school courtyard, sharing a quiet lunch. he reached over, brushing a stray hair from your face and giving you that warm, adoring smile that always made your heart flutter. "you have something on your lip," he said softly, leaning in to gently wipe away a crumb from your sandwich.

your friends, seated a few feet away, erupted into a chorus of "awww" and playful jabs about how cute you two were. you laughed it off, leaning into soobin's shoulder. "i think they're just jealous," you whispered, causing soobin to chuckle.

"probably," he replied, his arm wrapping around you protectively.

walking hand-in-hand to class, you felt the world around you fade away. soobin had this way of making everything seem brighter, more beautiful. the hallways, once crowded and chaotic, felt like a serene pathway whenever you were with him.

during study sessions in the library, the two of you would sit close, heads bent over textbooks, occasionally sharing quiet conversations and laughter. one time, soobin had drawn a little heart on your notebook when you weren't looking. it was a small gesture, but it filled you with such joy that you couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

your relationship wasn't just about the grand gestures, but the little moments that made up your everyday lives. the way he would wait for you outside your classroom, the way you would share your favorite songs, and the way he would always know when you needed a comforting hug.

⋆˚࿔ taglist!  @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman ࿔˚⋆

© 2024 seoulzie

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)

Chapter 1: This child needs me

[part 0, here, 2]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)

Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.

If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.

Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.

It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.

And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.

He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.

Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.

(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?

Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."

Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."

(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.

It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.

Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."

The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.

Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.

It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.

"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.

Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."

The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.

"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.

"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?

The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.

It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"

".. No."

".. Are you a boy?"

sigh "No."

"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"

(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.

"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.

He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"

The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).

"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"

"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."

(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"

"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.

"I think I'll prefer Mom."

They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?

"Do you know what I am?"

Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?

Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"

"What is that?"

"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"

(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'

His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"

"Six."

Older than I thought..

(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.

An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.

His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.

"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"

"Ye-"

"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?

Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"

"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.

The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"

The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."

"Any medical issues I should know about?"

"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.

"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"

The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?

No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.

"I do."

Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"

The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.

He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"

It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.

"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"

"Look are what she's wearing-"

"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"

"Still I think-"

"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."

The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.

"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."

"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."

"Someone you could call..?"

"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.

Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?

Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."

"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."

"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."

The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.

It was peculiar.

Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.

This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.

Avery was clinging to (Reader).

[potatomountain]

Chapter Twenty-Five

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍Summary: "What You Wanted"

📍WC: 3.8k

📍AU: detective/mafia

📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance

📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, cnc, gun threats, gun play, choking, 'kidnapping' if you squint, size kink, stomach bulge kink, threesome (of sorts), manhandling, penetration with no barrier, cream pie, ripped panties, reader essentially consents, thrill kink, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia

📍AN: Guess whats back! And a day early! 5 chapters after this but honestly so much is gunna happen hehehe

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour

📍dividers and banner made by me!

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It occurred to you the alarm that had gone off wasn’t really an emergency, but a ploy to keep you from asking questions you shouldn’t. After all, Yeosang had been watching. You didn’t know where the camera’s were, or what he could see, but you were even more certain that was the case a week later.

You had purposely asked Haru if she knew of anything going down around that time, and she had just confirmed your suspicions. Then you picked up that later in the week the Guardians had interjected, backing up the Vipers just as you had told Hongjoong.

But the real suspicious activity was the Vipers’ increase of goods from the docks- they were doing business with the Black Pirates.

Some of the girls speculated that the Pirates were helping for more territory over the river; others said they saw that without the Vipers, they would be the target of the Wolves. You supposed both could be true, but if you were correct you knew the most viable answer: if the Vipers lost, then San was lost.

The conflicting emotions and morals inside your head and heart were starting to boil over, unable to look Seonghwa in the face as he picked you up for the night. It was later than usual, the club had been more packed than normal with quite a bit of players killing some time. You were quite good at bartending, adding a little extra alcohol for some to get their lips loose, losing track of time in the process.

Yet Seonghwa hadn't been waiting long at all when you came out the back, a reminder that Yeosang had been watching and probably told him when you started closing up. Adjusting your skirt that kept riding up you approached him, taking note of the subtle way he eyed your legs.

Good, that would make this easier.

The skirt rode up even more once you were on the bike, bare inner thighs pressed against his rear, pressing closer as the heat from the bike radiated onto your skin. Your arms were tight around His waist, chest against his back, usually shy deliberate touches were now bold ‘accidental’ touches you would constantly apologize for.

Like digging your nails into his hips when he would make a turn, or grabbing his thighs when he would stop so you could ground yourself. The way you “adjusted” your skirt every chance you got just to rub against him and press your chest closer. You could tell from the way his muscles tensed up, and the white-knuckle grip on the handles that he was affected.

Once you arrived at your apartment, you didn't immediately step off the bike, nor unlatch from him. Your hesitance to head inside showed, thankfully it played in your favor.

“Angel?” Seonghwa sounded concerned. Good. Perhaps this would make it easier to bring him inside.

Slowly you stepped off the bike, took the helmet off and appeared flustered. “Can we talk? Inside? Please?” When he appeared reluctant you added on “you told me if I had doubts to talk to you. You aren't going back on that now?”

He softened, shaking his head and stepping off the bike once he turned it off. “Of course not. Let's head inside.” With his hand on the small of your back you made your ascend to your apartment.

Each step felt like an added weight on your heels, glancing back as you held his hand. If he could tell you were nervous, he didn't let on. Maybe you could play it off with your concerns. Seonghwa was a smart man though, so who knows how long you could keep up with deception.

Hopefully long enough to subdue him.

Once inside your apartment you kicked your shoes off, taking his hand once more once his were off too. “What is it, Angel?”

His obvious concern felt like a knife in the already growing wound. “Has Captain told you… about what we did in the gym a couple weeks back?”

Only because you were looking for it did you see it: the slightest tell of recognition. He buried it quickly under a look of confusion. “No, he hasn’t. What did you do?”

That obvious lie was like a shot of adrenaline. A sharp reminder of what you had to do. Any thought you had about asking him straight out was dashed from your mind.

With a coy smile you pulled him by the hand to your bedroom, his gaze dipping to the way your hand worked off the zipper of the jean vest you wore, nothing but the lace bra under it. The undercover work required more revealing clothing, but this you wore with this moment in mind. “I sucked him off, I wanted to do much more than that but there was an emergency.” Your words clearly affected him, just as you wanted, but you were still cautious. “But I haven’t seen or heard from him since… did I do something wrong?”

Seonghwa followed your every step, letting you pull him into the bedroom as your vest was opened and chest displayed. “You didn’t do anything wrong Angel… I’m sure I would’ve known about it.” You were positive he did know though.

“Then… can you ease my worries? W-with Chan I-” You trailed off, playing the part of dejected woman perfectly as you pulled those feelings to the surface. “I don’t want any more uncertainties about if I’m wanted or not. Please? Just a reminder?” It helped you had been so vulnerable with Seonghwa before, he didn’t seem to suspect it was staged.

Not as he followed you onto the bed, lust taking over his features as he reached out, fingers trailing over the lace bra. “We’ve been neglecting you again haven’t we Angel?”

You nodded, scooting more and more back on the bed so there was plenty of room for you both. “Just a bit.” The closer he got, the more you shut off your emotions. The wants and desires to do this under different circumstances. To completely indulge in the way his gaze devoured your body, to trust him with your heart, and give yourself over to the partnership the eight of them had.

But you weren’t one to trust so easily, not any more, and you couldn’t handle the lies. Not after everything. This wasn’t a desire for them physically any more, or a need for respect in their work. His lips on yours felt like a game, as if they gave what you wanted just to keep you at bay, to twist and manipulate you so you suited their needs.

This was personal.

You kissed back just as you wanted to, because even as your world was crumbling you still desired him, desired them. His touch still had heat pulsing between your thighs, still had you so eager to lose yourself to the way his hands worshiped your body. Over your breasts, down your sides, pushing your skirt up so he could slot his thigh between yours.

With a ragged moan you rolled the two of you over towards your right, straddling his waist and grinding down on his hips with clear desperation. “Hwa~ You look so good like this, under me.” Your lips were back on his in a heated kiss before he could respond, rolling your hips to stimulate the growing bulge you could feel. You were throbbing imagining it inside you, hitting deep every time you slammed down.

Shaking those thoughts off, your hands slipped up his shirt, slowly pushing it up. His kisses became hesitant, pulling away once your fingertips met his perky little nipples. “W-wait Angel, my shirt…”

“What about it?” You trailed kisses along his jaw, pulling one hand away to grab his hand and place it back on your ass when he had pulled it away. “Are you shy?”

“A little… please?” He pushed at your hands, pleading up at you.

With a reluctant sigh, you nodded, moving your hands to brace yourself by his shoulders, capturing his lips again as your hand slid into his hair. “Just don’t stop touching me then.” Thankfully he listened, his hands back on your ass, kneading the flesh there as you continued to kiss him.

In an instant it all shifted, the gun you were now pressing to the side of his head the reason. You kept one in your pillow to help you sleep better at night ever since you started the undercover work, and it was a blessing once you started to suspect.

Slowly you leaned back, keeping the gun trained on him as you wiped away all signs of desire from your features. “Cut the bullshit Seonghwa.”

He too had a stone expression, eyes hard as he stared down the barrel of your gun. “What are you doing?”

“Getting answers. You know how good of a shot I am, so why don’t you just listen to what I say and you’ll walk out of here alive.”

“With Mingi right next door?” He cocked a brow, meeting your gaze.

You smirked. “Really? That’s your retort? Nothing about my morality or oath I made as a cop? But threatening me with Mingi next door? You don’t want to get the police involved in this, don’t you? Better to kill me and cover it up huh? If I’m willing to shoot you, don’t you think I’m willing to shoot him too?”

His jaw went tense, eyes flicking away for a brief moment. If you still believed that he did care for you, you might take that as a sign of remorse. “What do you want to know?”

“First-” Keeping the gun trained with precision, you grabbed his hands and pulled them up to the headboard where you had a pair of cuffs hidden. “I knew you would look good in bondage.” When he pleaded your name, you tightened the cuffs. “Don’t. You had plenty of chances to tell me.”

“Tell you what?” He insisted, seemingly unaffected by the gun as you moved down his body and pulled his shirt up. He went deadly still, your eyes falling on the very evidence you needed. Scrawled on his ribcage, were the words “Black Pirate”.

Gone was the last bit of hope, the last chance you could convince yourself that you were being paranoid and that your distrust was wrongly placed. And with it, you just snapped. Laughter boiled out of you, insane laughter like this was the funniest, craziest thing to have ever happened. “I- I can’t believe it. I was right?”

You didn’t want to be.

“Angel-” Seonghwa’s plea was cut off by the muzzle of your gun being pressed to his lips.

“No. Don’t call me that. I’m not that.” You sneered out, laughter gone. “I wanted to trust you. I did trust you. But this? The Black Pirates?? Seriously?” 

It irked you how his gaze softened, concern there like a mother wanting to comfort their hurt child. “We were going to-”

“Tell me? When? After I fucked you all? Killed someone for you? Got so deep in that I wouldn’t have any escape if- Oh my God you were huh?” You swallowed hard at that daunting realization. “You were only going to tell me when I was so far in that you had no choice. Not because you trusted or cared for me. But because you were stuck with me and once I had enough blood on my hands only then would you tell me?”

He couldn’t meet your gaze. It hurt even more.

“The team comes first, it’s our shared secret, our personal feelings don’t matter.”

With a rise of anger clogging your throat you pressed the gun closer. “You had me believe I could be part of that, but I’m not. I’m not part of the team, of any of this! You used my vulnerability over Chan against me. Took advantage of the way they just tossed me aside. I trusted you, but you couldn’t trust me? Not without…” You broke off, shaking your head and trying to clear your thoughts.

You were a detective first. You had the law to uphold. This was not the right way to do it. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself you climbed off him, keeping the gun trained on him as you patted down his body. You found a gun on a calf hostler, tossed it on the chair out of reach with his pants, patting both down for any wire or tracking device. You turned his phone off for good measure, knowing Yeosang could probably track the location.

The whole time Seonghwa was watching you with that look in his eyes that was making your blood boil, but he didn’t speak. 

With the silence it gave you a moment to think. What could you do, this was a member of the black pirates- the higher up would be pleased. But you were also aware you had no way of bringing him in alone. Your evidence was nothing more than the tattoos now and the fact Seonghwa wasn’t denying that yes, they were. It was the whole unit too, and being the department of organized crime- well they would be the ones who would normally be called in to deal with this.

But you also couldn’t just let him go. You’ve held him at gunpoint, threatened his and Mingi’s life, and you knew their secret. They weren’t going to give you a chance to get evidence against them, nor were they going to let you live for very long either. You had this one night to figure it out.

Burning the bridge with SK was now a very bad idea. You were entirely alone, and doing something reckless and stupid.

No wonder why you got transferred.

“Angel-”

You swung back around to point the gun at him again, your emotions boiling in the pit of your stomach. “Stop calling me that!”

“Then talk to me! I can’t help-”

You climbed on top of him quickly, pressing the gun to his forehead as you sneered. “Help? Why the fuck would you want to help me? Your team comes first, and I’m not part of that remember.”

“Is that what this is really about?”

“No!” Yes- screamed in your head. “The Pirates have been active long before any of you became detectives. Wooyoung isn’t even an official one, and with the way Yeosang can erase an entire person from the internet, with access to police records and sealed files, I’m sure he could make any crimes you all did just disappear. Could make me disappear.”

“And you’re smart enough that you know this entire situation only hurts you, whether I live or die.” Seonghwa attempted to reason with you, and you wanted it to work. “So let me help you. Let me go, we can go talk to Hongjoong, and we can resolve this together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You wanted, more than anything, to believe him. And you would’ve. You lowered the weapon, just an inch as you blinked back tears, only to jump into action when you noticed a shadow in your peripheral, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You plummeted to the bed, large hands pushing your body down as the gun was tossed from your hands.

Instead a large hand was on your throat, squeezing hard enough your windpipe felt tight. Yunho stared down at you with such a murderous glare that any belief you had in Seonghwa was dashed. How could you talk it over with someone who wanted to kill you?

“Yunho! Don’t!” Seonghwa pleaded as you choked, grasping at his gloved hands to try and get him off you.

“She had a gun pointed at you so don’t give me that shit!” He snapped back, tearing his eyes away for just a second long enough for you to turn the tables. You kneed his balls and then kicked his leg to have him stumbling to the side. With a timed punch to his own windpipe you were out of his hold and rolling off the bed to grab your discarded gun. 

He was quick to recover, grumbling curses as he followed after you, grabbing your leg to pull you back on the bed. With a silent gasp of surprise, you kicked back at any part of him you could, hitting his jaw then shoulder, just to have him grab your other leg and have more leverage against you.

You managed to get the gun, grabbing it and bringing it up just as he had you on the bed again. He stilled, staring down the barrel of your gun as he held your waist down. “You reeeally want to do that, butterfly?”

The nickname brought back flashes of the club, the desire you had seen then once more in his eyes which just astonished you. He was panting, busted lip and a smirk on his features as he stuck his tongue out and licked the muzzle of the gun, daring you to pull the trigger.

He used your befuddlement against you, lifting your hips with one hand so you could feel the bulge in his pants, catching the spark in his eyes as he stared down at your throat where you knew there were bruises forming. Bruises in the shape of his fingers.

“Yunho- don’t.” Seonghwa warned again, something different about his tone this time that had you afraid of something else. They were mafia, meaning they committed crimes, killed people and probably-

You swallowed, throat sore as you tried to speak. “I’ll shoot-” It came out like a croak, much less threatening than you hoped for.

He laughed around the muzzle, tongue still playing with it like he was kissing it. “Yeah? Do it. Shoot me. Come one baby girl, you can shoot me, or you can fuck me.”

“For fuck’s sake Yunho now isn’t the time!!” For the first time since you had pulled the gun Seonghwa began to squirm to escape, attempting to at least. It would have clicked sooner in your brain if you weren’t so fixated on the way he licked the gun.

“But it is… isn’t it? You wanted us, wanted to trust us, and now that you think we don’t want that you’re lashing out. You want proof yeah? That we still want you?” Yunho’s words cut deep but-

He wasn’t wrong.

At your core, you just wanted a place to belong. No matter how well you did on the job, how many things you achieved, it all meant nothing without someone to trust. Someone in your corner. You’ve never had that, and they have given you a taste of their corner.

You wanted that. But it meant nothing unless they wanted that.

All the fight was pulled from you as Yunho flipped you over, holding your hands above your head with one hand as he ripped your panties off with the other. He was rough. Two fingers shoved into your pussy before you could even react.

“She’s so wet Hwa- fuck. You get off on the fight baby girl? Like to be choked and tossed around? I like doing that to you.” Yunho whispered in your ear, nibbling at the flesh as his fingers pumped into you roughly.

The gun was still in your hand, you could easily point it at Seonghwa to get Yunho to stop. This was wrong, he was being mean about it and yet-

With a moan you dropped the gun, instead gripping the sheets and lifting your ass for more of what he was giving you. “Told you.” He chuckled darkly, fingers removed just to get shoved into your mouth.

Even as he let go of your wrists to undo his pants, you remained pliant under him, glancing over at Seonghwa while you sucked your own juices off the two appendages. He had stilled, watching the scene before him while biting his lip.

You held his eye content as Yunho pushed his entire length into you, a raspy cry leaving your sore throat and eyes going wide. You knew how this looked, especially on paper, but you made no effort to stop it.

Not when Seonghwa looked at you with such impatient desire your pussy throbbed around Yunho’s dick slamming into the deepest parts of you. His size matched Mingi’s, and there was the drag of metal on his tip that hit all the sweet spots with you still being so tight. No pleas to stop would be coming out of your mouth, just moans and pants as you just gave in.

Yunho fucked you with such a force the whole bed shook, his hand grabbing your throat again to bend you back, the shift in angle having you cream on his dick with the lack of oxygen. You felt high, even a bit like you were going to pass out, but you latched onto consciousness like your life depended on it.

In a way, it did.

“That’s it. Maybe San was right, you are made for us. Taking my cock so fucking well- I can see it bulging out your cute tummy. See that Hwa?” Yunho rasped out against your ear, staring down your front.

Seonghwa shifting into your view was not what you were expecting, his now freed hand pressing against your stomach and hissing. “You’re being too hard on her.” Yunho must have tossed him a spare handcuff key and you were just too delirious to notice.

“The brat was acting out, I’m just- ngh fuck- putting her in her place.” Yunho’s words were now heavier, his grip on your throat different from when he was choking you earlier, this time with the intent to be pleasurable for you. Couple that with Seonghwa pressing down on your stomach where you could feel Yunho bulging it out with each thrust, you felt completely fucked dumb.

Just let them do what they want to you, because at least they wanted you. Tears sprung in your eyes, from the pleasure, pain, and raw emotion that began to surface.

Seonghwa wiped them away, now kneeling before you and cupping your face in his hands. Finally you moved your own hands, grabbing his biceps to hold on as both you and the bed rocked harder from Yunho’s growing erratic thrusts. “It’s alright Angel, we’ll take care of you.” His soft words were a harsh comparison to Yunho’s roughness.

You couldn’t formulate any words as another climax hit you, this time your vision becoming hazy as your eyes rolled back. Fucked through your orgasm, as soon as Yunho’s hips stopped their assault you blacked out, the last things you felt were hot cum filling your womb and gentle kisses on your face.

In the darkness of your mind, both warmths eluded you… drowned out by how utterly broken you felt.

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!