#also because i keep missing phone calls. consistently.

[sukirichi]

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you. 

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to  not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him. 

His head snaps in your direction. 

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter. 

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering. 

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem. 

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs. 

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state. 

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child. 

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut. 

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.  

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep. 

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city. 

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go. 

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?” 

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder. 

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him. 

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t. 

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs. 

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath. 

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the  best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life. 

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer.  You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you. 

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind. 

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye. 

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV. 

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

[luludeluluramblings]

Dick Grayson's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: Why dialogue hard? Why so hard? Y'all I tried, once again. I saved Dick for last because I really really really did not want to screw up his character. I did end up adding a scene from Part Seven in here. Just to give it some pizzazz.

A/N: Part Eight is in the works, but it’s either gonna be massive or I’m going to have to divide it up. Also, people be posting so straight up fire in the Yandere Bat tags lately. Good stuff, I needed that.

Warnings: Yandere themes, physical affection.

Out of everyone, Dick was the most enthusiastic about Reader coming to Wayne manor, while also being the most melancholic. The tragedy of their arrival wasn't lost on him, despite the thrill he had over the thought of having another person to add to hi life. Already, the need and wanted to smoother them in comfort and care was there. But, the life experiences he had allowed him to realize it was probably best not to overwhelm them.

Therefore, it came out in short burst of staggering affection at times. But, only when he was visiting. (There was no denying the fact that he was extremely tempted to call them on the phone just to make sure they were settling in just fine. And, that he fought that temptation every single night.)

That didn't stop him from feeling some minor annoyance with Bruce for keeping the fact that they existed a secret. Dick had seen the affects of this life and even felt them, but to let the family nearly miss out on something so honeyed with normalcy was cruel. (It would have been preferred if they didn't have to lose their parents in order to join the rest of the family, but it was hard to think like with how busy his schedule was and soft they felt in his arms.)

Admittedly he may have latched on to them too hard in the beginning. They felt stiff the first time his arms wrapped around them. The guilt of it gurgled in his throat, which is why he cut it short and went about his business. But, he couldn't stop the urge to do so each time they crossed each other's paths in the manor halls.

And, much to his glee, they start to soften. Slowly, but surly, they start to cling to him a little longer when his arms wrap around them. They start to depend on him. For once the thought of someone so conventional depending on him as Dick rather than as Nightwing, because everyone seems to depend on him as Nightwing, doesn't fill him with anxiety. It makes his chest flutter in a different way. Not with anxious butterflies, but with a flicker of a warmth.

It's completely innocent, the way the craving starts. He has to talk himself out of rearranging his entire schedule to be around them. Especially after the kidnapping incident. But, the Rouge break out gives him plenty of work to distract himself, and more frequent chances to find them in the manor for a dose of his new source of comfort.

His feelings finally start to become clear when rather than holding him longer and tighter, they finally reach for him themselves.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

“And, how is my favorite person today?” Already Dick has his arms opened wide for you when you walk out of the kitchen. He always appears from the depths of the manor, before he wraps around you like a slow creeping vine blooming with all sorts of sentiments.

"Alfred was doing good last I saw." But, by now you've grown to appreciate the way the tendrils curl around your limbs and burrow themselves into you. A small grin forming on your face at the chance to finally have someone to talk to, even if he isn't consistent company.

"Alfred isn't my favorite person, and you know it." The banter between them enjoyable and the undertones of his words ignorable in your obliviousness. "But, seriously, how are you doing today? You look like you have something on your mind. If it is you can tell me, you know that right?" The concern pouring put of his lips, as his grip tightens.

He had seen you through the cameras and had overheard the longing phone calls. The fact that your birthday was coming up had crossed his mind, and the realization that this would be your first without your parents did register in his brain. (But, it would also be you first with them. With him.) Bringing it up to you seemed like a bad idea. But, he would still try to encourage you to spill your feelings to him.

"No, no. It's nothing I promise." Your reply was soft and dismissive. But, the dishonesty was noticeable in it still.

Dick's arms seemed to tighten around you as you spoke, as if he was trying to decode the root of your troubles from the way your heart was beating against his chest. Eventually, he does loosen his limbs around you.

As he looks down, you known and he knows you’re lying. For a moment you think he going to push. To try to choke the words out of your lungs with another tight squeeze. But, he doesn't. Instead he lets you breathe.

"Okay," is all he says.

No extra nor unnecessary words. No constant reassurance that he'll always be there for you. Just a single word and the room to breathe. Those other things have already been said. Multiple times, in fact.

It's this one instance where he lets you breath that somehow gives you lungs the air it needs to blurt out what's bothering you as he pulls away.

"I wanna go home." The words escape your lips when you finally exhale and reach for him. The words coarse. "I just really want to go home for a bit. I miss home. I miss my family. I just—“

Dick doesn't even let you get halfway before he's enveloping you again. A slight tremble in his hands as he sprouts around you once more.

This. This is what he's wanted. You coming to him with your raw feelings. And, he knows he's the first person you've said this to at all.

"How can I help you?" He asks instead of questioning the statement.

"Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?” The tentative way you ask and look up at him has him caving immediately.

"Of course!" Perhaps it was a good thing you didn't grow up in Wayne manor. If Bruce hadn't spoiled you, he most definitely would have. "I'll bring it up to B as soon as he gets back."

"He's gone?" You hadn't been informed of him even leaving, but then again, you were hardly every informed about anything it seems.

"Yeah, work emergency. It wasn't a big deal, but he'll be back soon." Dick can sense the mild tone shift, but manages to shift it back to something more lighthearted. "I'll make sure to butter him up for you. I swear. Puppy-dog eyes and everything."

It works, because before he can even clutch you to his chest you already wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled yourself towards him. Just the way you hug him tells him how genuine this type of embrace is. This is how you hold people. And, now, this is how you hold him.

"Thank you, Dick. Thank you." Comes your muffled reply into his chest.

The way you nuzzle into him like that's where you belong, because that's where you do belong, and the way you say his name causes his heart to melt. And, his mind to slowly sinks into the puddle it became.

Dick could stay like this for hours, but you start to pull away after a solid minute.

"I should let you get going. I know you got a lot of stuff to do." Your words sound so hopeful and understanding as you him go. The way you look up at him like he is your hero just for this simple small thing is touching.

Inwardly, he curses. The criminals of Gotham. The criminals of Blüdhaven, the team, the family, his schedule. Everything. He curses it all for that moment, because he could be holding you to his chest longer and having you look up at him like that instead. But, he lets it pass. He manages to let it go just as you pull away.

"Yeah, I do. But, don't think I'm going to brush off helping my favorite person in the world." Plastering on a well practiced pretty smile as he speaks.

"So, that means you got somebody more important off world? I see how it is." You tease in return as you fall for the practiced charm.

"Maybe." Dick lets the banter easy his mind. In reality, even off this world, you're probably his favorite, still. It should scare him, but it doesn't. "I'll let you know how Bruce takes the request. But, I'm prepared to sneak you out of here if necessary."

"I'll get the spy music ready, just incase." Things are starting to look up, and it's nice to have someone in your corner in this massive estate.

"Mission Impossible theme?" His grin become less practiced at the thoughts of having an adventure with you.

"Nah, the Pink Panther one. Just for the shenanigans." Your own grin growing wider and wider.

"Now I want to sneak you out just for fun." And, he means it. Already mentally planning your trip back home with him escorting you. And, then you possibly coming and staying in Blüdhaven with him in his guest room. Just to get you out of the manor, of course. Clearly you need it.

He can't ignore the way his pocket keeps buzzing, though. Clearly the others are in the cave waiting for him. But, they can wait a bit longer, he thinks diving in for one last embrace.

As you wholeheartedly reciprocate, he can see one of the secret security camera out the corner of his eye and he can't stop the smug smile from forming on his face as his gives you one last squeeze in front of it.

With the way his phone stills, he can tell the rest of them saw. It's not his fault they're too scared of physical affection to actually hug you. But, it does give him a monopoly on it with you.

As he makes his way down to the Batcave there's a skip in his step and that smug smile is still on his face.

He makes sure to look at everyone's faces as he joins them. Soaking up their envy. All of that wasn't to make them jealous, but it's kind of nice to have.

"Was all that necessary, Grayson?" Damian being the first to break the silence by practically spitting the words out through his gritted teeth. Even with his perfect poster the tension coiling in his limbs is visible to the untrained eye.

"Someone's got to be the one to do it, little D. And, clearly, they needed it." Dick's tone was placating, but his smile wasn't. The way he stands in the center of the room reminiscent of an orchestra conductor.

"Don't use them as an excuse for your touch-starved tendencies, Dick." Barbara retorted, rolling in her chair towards another computer. She immediately began typing on it at a furious pace, clearly trying to distract herself.

"Low blow, Babs." He whistled in return. Everyone else seemed focused on giving him the silent treatment causing his grin to widen further. "I can't help that I'm a naturally-"

"I just texted Bruce about it." Duke suddenly says, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. He face had been blank before, but the way his eyes glanced up at Dick and the others when there heads jerk towards him showed off a hint of self-satisfaction.

"That's cheating." Childishly spills from Dick's mouth. This was suppose to be his favor to them. His. Not anyone else's.

"Bruce doesn't get text while in the Watchtower." Stephanie points out while uncurling from her seat, but the damage is done.

"Could we contact Father in the Watchtower?" Damian practically leaps from his seat and rushes to the Batcomputer where Tim sits. Alliances quickly being drawn up.

"He'd be pissed if we contacted him for something like this." Jason adds with a grin. He doesn't bother looking up from cleaning his guns, just not at all bothered by the prospect of pissing Bruce off.

"But, then message would be logged into the League data base." Comes Barbara's stern voice from her computer, her typing coming to a pause. Tim still keeps at whatever he was working on before Dick walked into the cave, but on the screen there is a flash of airline websites so it's fairly easy to conclude what his plan of persuasion is.

Cassandra watches the exchange reading the emotions through everyone's movements. Silently, she throws her bid in as well. Choosing to slide over to Stephanie and signing the making of a plan.

From there it spirals into an all out argument between each and every member of the family. Debating logistics and exchanging petty insults that seems to go on for hours. Hardly anything gets done while words are being thrown around like bullets.

In the back of his mind, Dick once again curses everyone and everything for ruining this for him. But, he reassures himself, the banter from earlier comes back to him.

It's a decent plan, he thinks. Sneaking Reader out of the manor. Convincing Bruce would be ideal, but it wouldn't be the first time he's broken the rules. And, it's for their happiness and well being. They need him. They asked him for his help. Not the other's. Not anyone else's. His. Bruce will understand.

Besides, it would be nice to see the Smalltown they grew up in. It sounds like a quaint little place. What could possibly be wrong with it?

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

[masterlist] [chapter 1] [chapter 3] [taglist]

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

 YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I��ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

“What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

  IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

“Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange. 

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat. 

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days. 

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give. 

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

  PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

Bonus:

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

  IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret.  “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

special thanks to: (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @maraya-007 @thisismarisaaa @reeyy0-2 @littlemisspropaganda @cherie026

[giamee]

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝟐 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄!

୨♡୧ pairings :: blade x reader ; sampo x reader ; gepard x reader ; dan heng x reader ; jing yuan x reader ; luocha x reader

୨♡୧ gia's notes :: writing this as a quick lil thing because i just finished school and i want to like,,, pay homage to the crushes ive had on my classmates LMAO this is so self indulgent i'm delulu... gonna miss seeing them in the hallways ,,, this one kinda mid i wrote it on my phone while half asleep AND ITS EXAM SEASON RAHHHHHH

୨♡୧ contains: modern!school!au, fem!reader sorry, most definitely ooc because these are based off of real people oops, just cute lil crushes man feel free to judge my taste in men !

𓆩♡𓆪 BLADE

-he's in your biology class, but not close enough to really get to talk to him

-you're not sure what to make of him, but you see him in the gym a few times when you're there as well

-his stony exterior, however, is shattered in your eyes when you enter the gym one day to find it empty other than just him in there, blasting his playlist out loud

-out of all of the possible genres he could he listening to, you weren't expecting a drill remix of anime osts

-you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips from what you're witnessing, and blade freezes upon hearing it before whipping his head round to face you like a deer in headlights

-he scrambles to turn it off as you set up at a squat rack, and it's almost endearing to see such a stoic classmate look so flustered

-you almost felt bad for the guy, and you hesitated before asking blade if he could spot for you

-and just like that, the ice was officially broken

-the two of you talked more frequently now, even becoming sort of friends through your shared class and the gym

-more frequent talks gave way to the more intimate aspects of blade's personality- as it turned out, he was quite touchy

-lingering touches when spotting you in the gym turned to his leg pressed against yours when you sit next to each other- leaning into your personal space a little too close to call it casual, and the bastard enjoyed the way you got flustered when his face got near to yours and the way that people looked at the pair of you and whispers, rumours, started to fly

-"if you keep sitting that close to me, people are going to think that we're dating," you huffed at him

-blade didn't even glance up from his phone that he was scrolling through with one hand, the other resting against the back of your chair

-"good." you were glad that he didn't look up to see the way that your eyes widened and you turned your head to the side to hide the giddy smile that was creeping onto your face

-and despite you enabling this, all the harmless flirting, there was some unquellable part of you that screamed to be set free and hoped for something more. that when he made you look him in the eyes with a finger under your chin, he wasn't just doing it to tease you

-there was undeniably something going on between the two of you, but there was also the unspoken mutual decision to not mention it

-and so you resigned your self to the realm of just friends. it would be easier this way, to move on without any ties before uni

-yet on the last day, you found him scrawling his phone number in your yearbook with a demand to stay in touch, and it left you looking down at the inked digits with the thing in your chest set free, telling you that your feelings might just be reciprocated

𓆩♡𓆪 SAMPO

-your deskmate in chemistry because of a stupid seating plan that didn't change the entire year

-you've never really spoken before, but he's well-known for being rowdy

-his friends sit nearby, and most of his conversations consisted of talking to them loudly while leaning across your desk, while you try to balance your chemical equations

-other than that, you keep to yourselves mostly

-it isn't until your chemistry teacher is going on a tiresome rant about the bohr effect that you shift your attention away from the board, your eyes instead focusing on sampo and the pen in his hands as he twirled it through his fingers effortlessly

-you nudged him slightly, pointing to his hand and mouthing at him "how do you do that?"

-sampo smirks, leaning in closer to you and keeping his voice at a low whisper to avoid alerting your chemistry teacher

-"so you hold the end like this..." sampo whispers to you, demonstrating with the end of his pen. you nod and try not to think about how small the pen looks compared to his fingers, fixing your grip

-"and then you hold it loose, and flick it around your thumb" sampo demonstrates it effortlessly, catching the pen in his hand and smiling at you

-you concentrate on your own, feeling his gaze against the side of your face instilling slight tremors in your hand

-you attempt the spin, watching as the pen teeters before falling and landing on your desk with a clatter

-you hear sampo snort beside you, and your teacher whips his head around and fixes the pair of you with a glare

-"am i interrupting something?" you and sampo both snapped your attention back towards your teacher as he looked at you both pointedly before continuing with his lecture

-you braved a peek at your deskmate, seeing the way his eyes were stubbornly facing forwards while a slight smirk adorned his face

-it became almost a ritual for you to attempt sampo's stupid pen trick each lesson

-it looked so simple, you didn't get how you were still struggling to do it, and your focus was pretty much anywhere except on the lesson

-sampo watched on in idle amusement at your frustration, sometimes demonstrating it to you again just to rub it in before getting elbowed by you

-besides him poking fun at you, there was also a sweeter side to sampo

-there was a day where you had forgotten to wear your contacts, and were effectively blind the entire day

-despite being nearer to the front, you couldn't even read the board when you squinted

-you ended up asking sampo to read what was on the board to you, and with an exaggerated sigh he did so, whispering the words to you in the same low voice that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up

-"you owe me, you know," he told you jokingly, pointing at your homework

-you rolled your eyes, sliding it over to him

-"i don't know why you think that the answers will be right, but sure"

-"hey, at least you did the homework"

-uhhhh idrk how to end this SORRY

-you guys got along well and then the year finished and you weren't in the same class any more

-whenever you see him in the corridors you smile at each other though

𓆩♡𓆪 GEPARD

-he sits in the seat opposite from you in your english class

-you can't help zoning out when the lesson gets boring, and more often than not that results in you inadvertedly staring at gepard until you snap back to reality and realise that you've locked eyes with him, resulting in both of you hastily looking away with pink dusting both of your cheeks

-it's hard not to look at his handsome face, and your wandering eyes often get drawn to him against your will

-the sun hits his hair just right from the window behind him, and he looks like an angel with a halo when he's concentrating with a furrowed brow and taking notes about chaucer

-he's not too bad of a person to be sat across, in short

-you see gepard from time to time in the library, and by luck's draw, one of the only free seats in a particularly busy hour ends up being next to him

-he glances up when you place your books down, shooting you a quick smile before turning back to his own work

-you're about to put on your headphones and start revising, but you catch the faint melody of an ice spice song blasting from gepard, oblivious to the world

-it takes a lot of self control to not burst out laughing in the middle of the library, but you text this information to your friend instead while biting back a smile

-she responds after a few seconds with a link to gepard's spotify account, telling you to take a look through his playlists

-risking a glance at gepard, still heavily focusing on his work, you click on the link and begin to scroll through his account

-you find yourself growing more and more blown away by his music choice

-someone who was so serious and stoic didn't seem like the type to have one of the most insane tastes in music you've ever seen, but you liked it

-it offered you a more human side to his aloof self

-when you saw him start to subconsciously mouth the words in time with ice spice, though, that's when you snorted a little

-and when gepard looked up at you in confusion, you waved him off

-maybe you would try talk to him after class more

𓆩♡𓆪 DAN HENG

-although he doesn't share a lesson with you, dan heng actually takes the same bus to get home from school

-you have a tendency to oversleep in the mornings, so you've never had the opportunity to realise this as the buses you take arrive at school minutes before the bell

-and after school, you can leave as soon as lessons finish, and your differing timetables kept you apart as well

-but after a day at the library in school, you ended up getting a bus nearer to the end of the day rather than your usual time

-because of this, you found that most of the other students at your school were getting this first bus back, and a lot less of the seats were available

-you scanned the seats, searching for an empty spot when you got on, and you saw dan heng sat on his own, looking out the window with his earphones in

-you recognised him as a guy in your year and headed to where he sat, gripping your bag tighter for emotional support

-"could i sit here?" you spoke before realising that he probably couldn't hear you over the sound of his music, and you hesitated before tapping him on the shoulder

-his attention snapped to you before he shuffled slightly, leaving you with ample space to take a seat

-you didn't talk much, feeling self conscious of your feed as you scrolled through your phone next to dan heng, waiting for the stop where you would get your second bus

-you were lucky that you were sat closer to the aisle, and didn't have to make things more awkward by asking him to get up too

-you pressed the button to stop the bus, picking up your bag and getting off

-but to your surprise, as you looked behind you to check if it was clear to cross the road, you saw that dan heng had gotten off of the bus as well

-which wasn't too weird, really. there were plenty of other buses to take from here

-yet your suspicions were confirmed as you realised that you and dan heng were headed for the same bus, stopping in the same queue with him just behind you

-normally you would keep to yourself, but you must have been feeling extra talkative that day because you decide to strike up a conversation with him

-"so you take this bus as well?"

-dan heng nodded, taking out an earphone to better hear you as you both waited for the bus

-"yeah, in the morning too"

-"i'm guessing the early one? i always miss it because i sleep in"

-dan heng smiles and shrugs

-"maybe you should go to sleep earlier, then"

-"yeah, maybe"

-the pair of you talk a bit, and despite his appearance dan heng is actually quite fun to talk to, though he moreso tends to listen to you rant and occasionally provides some input, which seems to suit you both just fine

-come next morning, you found yourself waking up a little easier than usual, getting ready and leaving your house earlier than usual

-and as a result, you managed to catch the early bus

-you spotted his cropped dark hair almost as soon as you got on, and decided to sidle up to him again

-dan heng spotted you this time, though, and even offered you a smile as he pulled put his earphones as youvsat down next to him

-"so i'm guessing that you slept earlier, huh?"

-if it meant getting to talk to him more, you'd be in bed before it even got dark

-but he didn't have to know that

𓆩♡𓆪 JING YUAN

-he's that one guy in the year who's just universally loved, by teachers and students alike

-he's warm, he's studious, he's head boy, and he's practically everyone's friend

-it's not uncommon to see plenty of the girls in your year go up to him to try and flirt, and for others to look on in jealousy at their attempts

-and despite everyone's best efforts, jing yuan remained single

-as much as you didn't want to, you couldn't help but get a crush on him, just like every other girl in the year

-your heart beats out of your chest when you walk past him in the corridor and he gives you a smile and nod

-your knees feel weak when you see him in the library studying, his handsome face scrunched in concentration

-and though you may only be observing from afar, you're completely content with that

𓆩♡𓆪 LUOCHA

-luocha is a friend of yours that you made pretty recently

-there's a quiet charm to him that leaves you feeling at ease, and you've found it incredibly comforting to be in his presence when revising for exams

-even though he's a man of few words, he's managed to keep you as grounded as you can be during the stress of your last days of school before it's over

-it all came to an emotional headway at prom night

-you had been drinking a little, and with the night coming to an end the realisation that you wouldn't be seeing most of the people here again had you feeling teary eyed

-luocha found you on the dancefloor, pulling you towards him without a word and letting you just cling onto his suit as you both swayed in time to the slower song

-you let the soothing scent of him wash over you as you started to wind down at the end of the night, and you felt one of his gentle hands resting on your back as you began to wind your arms around his neck too

-"it was nice to know you," you mumbled to him, voice muffled by the material of his suit

-you felt luocha's grip on you tighten almost imperceptibly, a sign that he had heard you regardless

-"you can still know me" he murmured, and in your hazy state of mind you relaxed into him even further

-"that would be nice"

-as prom came to an end and after you had gotten over the air of finality, the pain from wearing your heels all night was beginning to kick in

-your car was parked a while away and while you did want to just go home, the prospect of taking another step was making you wince

-luocha was quick to notice your hesitance, and before you even said anything he was crouching down in front of you, telling you to "get on" which you gratefully did

-his warm hands wrapped securely around your thighs, supporting your weight as you told luocha where to go

-he made it to your car effortlessly, letting you down carefully and even opening your own car door for you

-you giggled at him being a gentleman as you got behind the wheel, smiling up at him with a bittersweet pang in your heart

-"thanks for everything, luocha"

-the man hesitated for a second, before returning your smile

-"any time"

-he ducked down, leaning in closer to you, and you felt yourself inhale sharply as he wrapped his arms around you, encasing you in a last embrace before you would part ways for the last time

-"keep in touch, okay?"

-"okay"

୨♡୧ honkai star rail masterlist

[blueeyedgirll]

Sneaking In - Sal Fisher x F!Reader

a/n: this is something i literally think about constantly :)> sneaking out was sal’s idea not yours there’s no delinquency here. unfortunately this is NOT part two of he’d loooove that because to be transparent i don’t know where to go with it! i promise i started it though it’ll come out soon •3•

this fic includes: boyfriend sneaking in trope, rebellion, sal ITCHING to see you, no use of y/n, for some reason you don’t have a screen on your window but whatever, established relationship, smooching, cuddling

The dark, late night sprawls outside as the twinkle of fairy lights keeps you awake. The chatter from the movie you were watching keeps your ears occupied as you consider texting or calling someone to ease the boredom overtaking you.

You settle on your boyfriend, Sal.

You and Sal had been dating for almost a year and a half. You started dating in the beginning of freshman year, and are still together now, halfway through sophomore year. Dating Sal had been nothing short of wonderful. He has always been such a kind and loving person, and it shows in your relationship. You and Sal are the kind of couple that people call “goals,” or talk about because they “need a relationship like that.”

You pick up your phone to text Sal, but upon reaching his contact, you decide to call him instead.

The line rings once, twice, and then he picks up.

“Hey, love. Are you alright? Why are you calling so late?” He says as less of a question for his sake and more to make sure you were okay.

“Yeah, I just missed you,” You respond.

“Well, I miss you too. I’m glad you called.” Sal pauses for a moment and you hear shuffling.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to move Gizmo off my bed so I can lie down.”

You laugh at the thought of Sal trying his hardest to gently move his very large cat off the bed.

“Just pick him up,” You say, realizing that it’s in his nature to be gentle so he likely wouldn’t.

“No, he’s comfortable.” You hear him scoff in frustration and the thunk of him hitting the bed. “I give up.”

You laugh and change the subject.

“Well, what were you doing before you decided to evacuate Gizmo?”

“Honestly… I was trying to study for my history test, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. It was really hard to try to remember what years the American Revolution took place when the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen kept crossing my mind.”

His sudden compliment made you smile.

“Why, thank you. Luckily I wasn’t doing anything productive, because I promise you I would’ve been in the same boat…” You think for a moment. You both really miss each other, so why not make plans for the weekend?

“Sal, I want to see you. Want to hang out tomorrow?”

He pauses before he answers.

“Why wait?”

“What?”

“Why wait until tomorrow? I miss you now.”

You consider his point. You missed him now, too. But the thorough punishment that awaited you if your parents found out hung over you like a storm cloud.

“Sal, my parents will kill me if I sneak out.”

“Then let me.”

“My parents will also kill me if they catch me sneaking my boyfriend in my room in the dead of night. Can’t you hear how bad that sounds?”

“That’s why they won’t catch me. Please, baby? I can be sneaky, I promise.”

You pause for a moment.

You consider.

You decide the reward outweighs the consequences.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then?”

You can hear him silently cheer. “Yes you will. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The phone beeps after the call ends. A rush of adrenaline and emotions flows through you as it fully processes that you’re sneaking your boyfriend in, but the risk just made it that much more fun.

A few minutes pass that consist of you switching between pacing your room and tidying up. You realize that Sal needs to get in somehow, so you turn to leave your room and unlock the back door. Before you could leave, however, you hear a tap on the window.

You throw open your curtains and it is none other than Sal. His electric blue hair illuminated by the moonlight, he stares up at you, eyes visibly crinkled through the eyeholes in his mask.

You open the window to let him in. He smiles up at you and hoists himself onto your windowsill before jumping silently onto your floor. He stops to look around for a moment, then pulls you into his arms.

“We have a door, you know,” You say teasingly.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You smile at him and draw your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. You reach to the back of his head and unbuckle his mask, and he bows his head to let you.

You pull the mask off of his scarred face and he looks at you longingly with his bright blue lovesick eyes. Before either of you can speak, you both lean into a kiss. His lips meet yours in a unification powerful enough to make your knees tremble. He wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you deeper into the kiss, allowing you to run your hands through his soft hair.

"Wasn't this worth it? And, hey, I bet your parents are still sound asleep. They don't have a clue!" Sal drags out the last few words of his sentence in an excited whisper.

"Yeah, it was. Thank you for coming over."

"No problem. I missed you and it made me really want to see you."

"I can tell."

He smiles at your comment and moves to sit on your bed. You set his mask on your bedside table and follow his lead by propping yourself up on the headboard, patting the spot beside you to urge him over. He sits right next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He's so close that you can feel how warm he is through his sweater and smell his body wash.

He turns his head to give you a kiss on the cheek. You wrap your arms around his waist and fit your head into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, listening to his heart steadily beating.

"I love you," Sal whispers. "I love you, too."

[hysteria-things]

TOUR (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s been on tour for about a month, meaning he hasn’t seen or done anything with you in a month. he takes matters into his own hands when he’s finally alone, but he does need your help with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, mentions underage drinking, swearing, male masturbation, overstimulation (kinda)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 830

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: umm guys i literally woke up to over a hundred notifications??? thank you SO much i didn’t expect this to happen at all. i’m having so much fun with this🥲

my notes app is COOKING right now and the ideas are ideaing. you guys and your support makes me low key emotional LMAO

i want to try and post once a day but i might do more than once sometimes instead because i am HYPE.

also conflicted if i should make a part two so let me know!

it’s friday night and you’re sitting in your best friend’s living room. the two of you and other close friends come together some weekends to hang out. you guys have been laughing, drinking (despite being underage by a year), watching TV, or playing games. in the middle of laughing, you feel your phone buzz repeatedly underneath your thigh. you lift your leg to retrieve it, seeing an incoming phone call from your boyfriend matt.

“hey, sorry. mind if i take this?” you ask the group, lifting your phone so they can see the screen.

“not at all.” your best friend smiles.

you get up from the couch. “thanks. continue the game without me.”

you speed walk to the bathroom and close the door accepting the call and bringing it to your ear. “hello?”

“hey.” he breathes out.

“hey, you.” you smile. “how are you doing?”

“fine,” he says. he’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “sorry i didn’t talk to you much today. it’s been busy, but we just finished the tampa show.”

you haven’t seen matt in over a month because he’s been touring with his brothers across the country. you couldn’t be more proud, but you guys miss each other like crazy.

“did you win?”

“damn right i did, baby,” he says hoarsely. he sounds a bit strange to you, but you shrug it off as exhaustion. doing shows almost every day can wear somebody out.

but oh boy are you wrong.

on the other line, matt sits on his bed in the tour bus with his hand wrapped around his dick. your recent post on instagram is displayed on his screen as you talk about your day on the other end, having no clue what’s happening.

the post consists of you posing, wearing a short navy blue dress. your tits practically spilled out of the top.

“…was crazy.” you finish. “anyway, is tour fun so far? it’s almost over already.”

“uh huh.” he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. he hisses, his movements gradually becoming faster. he’s sensitive, and it hurts so fucking bad. he needs to release, but only you have the power to make him come undone.

“matt? you okay? you sound off.” you ask concerned.

“keep talking, baby. i’m so close.”

you go to say something, but instead, press your ear closer to the phone. you hear shuffling and grunting. it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out what he’s doing.

“you’re being risky, matthew.” you say teasingly, a whine escaping his lips. he prefers being called matt, but with you, matthew rolls perfectly off of your tongue. “where’s everybody else, hm?”

“at the store,” he says shakily, his hand pumping faster. he takes his thumb and twirls it around his red tip where pre-cum is threatening to spew out. “i need to cum so bad.”

“then do it, baby. pretend it’s me making you feel so good,” you say seductively, biting your lip as you hear his sounds of pleasure.

you get that familiar feeling in your core, but because you’re at a friend's, you’ll feel weird doing it in her bathroom.

guess you’ll have to wait until you’re all alone.

“fuck.” he whispers, stomach jerking. he thrusts up into his fist a few times to finish the job. he whines as he makes a mess all over his stomach and thighs.

he whines again, purposely trying to overstimulate himself. “matt, don’t overdo it. you’re too sensitive.” you say, knowing he didn’t stop because you can still hear the commotion.

“please.” he exhales. “one more.”

“hold on,” you reply, opening the camera app on the phone. you pull the straps down of your dress and pull out your boobs, pushing them together and snapping a picture. you know how much matt goes crazy over them. you send the photo, waiting for his reaction.

you bring the phone back up to your ear to hear a sigh of “holy fuck” fall from his mouth.

“i need to fuck your tits so bad.” he groans, throwing his head back as he tries to reach his second orgasm.

you bite your lip to hide your smile, enjoying this a little too much. the wet noises on the other line drive you insane.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m cumming.” he lets out a loud moan as he makes another mess, his dick red and swollen. he’s still not satisfied, because you’re not there. he continues pumping his cramped hand, but you and he both know it’s no use.

“matt, that’s enough.” you say sternly. “don’t do it too much, okay? it’ll hurt.”

he obliges, removing his hand and lying there. his breathing starts to slow, but he’s still panting. “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too.” you coo. “just a few more days, okay?”

“okay,” he mumbles.

you lied.

what matt doesn’t know is that you have a plane ticket for tomorrow, to fly out to ft. lauderdale for the last show.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

[beebotea]

☁️ ˖⁺ thinking of collegeboy!kayn

pairing: heartsteel!kayn x gn!reader genre: fluff, crack cw: probably ooc ngl, hearsteel is a rising boy band, kayn is annoying asf, slight jealousy, idk classmates to crush ig, reader is an ezreal stan i.e.: collegeboy!kayn headcannons

[ drabble spinoff ] [ pt.2 ]

collegeboy!kayn who’s part of the rising boyband heartsteel

collegeboy!kayn who stands as one of their lead rappers and opens for their first single

collegeboy!kayn who has amassed a significant following outside of school for his looks and stage persona

collegeboy!kayn who has this arrogant, bad-boy-esque aura to him when he walks around the halls

collegeboy!kayn who you had the unfortunate luck to sit beside on your first day of class because he was in your program

collegeboy!kayn who often misses classes during band promotions

collegeboy!kayn who starts to fail his classes because of his horrible attendance and lack of study skills

collegeboy!kayn who you’ve been tasked by one of the department heads to tutor

collegeboy!kayn who was told to play nice during tutoring sessions or he’d be kicked from band activities if he failed a single class at the end of the semester

collegeboy!kayn who gets kicked out of all the public spaces you guys try to study at because he always makes too big of a scene at any minor inconvenience

collegeboy!kayn who brings you back to the dorms because you’re too embarrassed to step foot in public within a 10-meter radius of him, but he still needs you to help him pass his classes

collegeboy!kayn who gets annoyed when you start to fawn over ezreal when he greets you from the living room

collegeboy!kayn who drags you away by the wrist to cut your conversation off short, grumbling about not knowing what you see in the guy and how you’re sooo shallow for liking the pretty boy under his breath

collegeboy!kayn who yells at his mom yone for barging in during your study sesh and bringing in a plate of perfectly cut fruits

collegeboy!kayn who threatened to “beat the living shit” out of ez if he didnt stop flirting with you while he was trying to figure out maslow’s hierarchy

collegeboy!kayn who decides to lock the door after having k'sante peek his head in to “check on how you're both doing”

collegeboy!kayn who started to look forward to walking with you back to his dorm after class and spending time with you once a week

collegeboy!kayn who begins to do better in class with your consistent help every weekend

collegeboy!kayn who impulsively called you, excited that he got a b+ on one of his final exams

collegeboy!kayn who turns red in embarrassment when you tease him over the phone about never calling you prior (he always insisted he was a text-only type of guy)

collegeboy!kayn who couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when you laughed, saying that he wouldn’t need you to tutor him anymore

collegeboy!kayn who, without thinking, said, “no! im still stupid, you have to keep tutoring me!”

collegeboy!kayn who mentally facepalms when you laugh at him again for being such a loser about it but quickly gets over it when you agree to keep helping him

collegeboy!kayn who finds himself thanking someone for the first time with a slight smile on his face before you disconnect the call

collegeboy!kayn who throws the nearest pointed object at sett and tells him to "fuck off" when he gets teased for looking so lovesick over a phone call of all things

collegeboy!kayn who slams the door of his bedroom shut and comically lets himself fall face-first into his pillow because he’s realized he has absolutely developed a crush on you at this point

collegeboy!kayn who thinks to himself with a smirk and decides it shouldn’t be too hard to win you over with his undeniable charm and good looks… right?

a/n: should i release a one-shot or multi-part ver of this? i got MORE!!! also are league fics a thing? idt ive ever seen them but oh well heartsteel kayn is just too UGHSAHJGSHJG

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is. 

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet. 

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still. 

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.” 

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—” 

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother. 

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.” 

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue. 

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement. 

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify. 

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma. 

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body. 

And just age in general. 

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly. 

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is. 

Gifts.

From Joe. 

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery. 

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands. 

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent. 

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently. 

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan. 

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.” 

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.” 

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls. 

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”  

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.” 

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.” 

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.” 

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone. 

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected. 

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy. 

 If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed. 

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us. 

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text. 

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her. 

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants. 

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath. 

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away. 

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her. 

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now. 

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town. 

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings. 

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap. 

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?” 

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to. 

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit. 

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no. 

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you. 

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.” 

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.” 

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.” 

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid. 

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter. 

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that. 

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.  

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say?  No wonder she was crabby this morning. 

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter. 

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one. 

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school. 

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years. 

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is.  Was about that. 

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade. 

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂 

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you. 

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door. 

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject. 

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking. 

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously? 

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around. 

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic. 

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply. 

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad. 

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly. 

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well. 

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity. 

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset. 

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything. 

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet. 

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better. 

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial. 

Usually. 

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.” 

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N. 

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky. 

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see. 

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well. 

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

[bratdotcom]

SMALL THINGS I THINK THE BOYS WOULD FALL FOR + CHARLES !!!

( dethklok + charles x reader hcs !! this is my first time writing for them so if its ooc i apologize in advance 😭 )

NATHAN

- Being able to rest with you. He's an overthinker, even when it comes to resting

- He constantly wonders to himself if he's doing things right. Having you there to reassure him and bounce ideas with him makes Nathan feel much more confident about making big decisions for the band when Pickles is busy

- Reminding him to wear his glasses. Most of the time, he doesn't bother to unless the situation really calls for it

- Speaking of glasses, when he's in public with you and he can't see something , you become his glasses. ( When in private, he'll awkwardly tell you that you did a good job and that he loves you )

SKWISGAAR

- sharing

- straight up, just sharing anything

- Skwisgaar doesn't like sharing much of anything at all- you're the exception

- He secretly loves handing you sweets from his plate and watching your face light up when your eyes land on his fork (he pretends like it isn't a big deal, but it definitely is)

- He loves breaking pastries in half just to give the other piece to you

- Skwisgaar has a sense of pride whenever you thank him. He pretends like it's nothing (it's going to be on his mind for weeks)

PICKLES

- lazing around with you

- Pickles loves preparing the living room just for the two of you to watch on the various screens hooked up on the ceiling, snacks, blankets, and all

- if you're up for it, he'll gladly rewatch movies you've both seen a dozen times before

- does the trick where he pretends to yawn so he can wrap his arm around you ( does it because it makes you laugh every single time )

TOKI

- kisses!!

- pecks on the cheek, forehead kisses, butterfly kisses, Toki loves them all!!

- Especially quick pecks on the cheek when you need leave the room

- More than once, Skwisgaar has to tell him to pay attention during practice all because you kissed him

- Toki thinks kisses on the lips are the specialist of them all. He'd rather kiss you on the lips in private rather than in public

MURDERFACE

- listening to him

- due to how often he's overlooked in the band, he doesn't have anyone to share his thoughts with

- that was until you came into the picture

- William absolutely adores you. He knows that you won't ridicule him or cut him off when he's explaining battle facts or ideas he has for his own independent projects

- He also likes laying his head on your shoulder, but he tries playing it off as him being 'tired' from touring

- He tries to act tough but if you kiss him on the bridge of his nose his face will go entirely red (I'm talking about looking away and murmuring to himself type shit)

CHARLES

- calling each other

- even with how chaotic the boys are, Charles still tries to keep a consistent schedule so he can call you at the same times everyday

- Unsurprisingly, being Dethklok's manager is a time-consuming job

- Knowing that you're at home waiting for him with open arms makes him feel better

- He likes hearing you ramble about whatever over the phone whenever he has the time to call you

- On the rare occasion where he has nothing else to do, he often replays the voice messages you leave in his inbox, listening intently as if you were right in front of him. He misses you. A lot

[taeyegu]

confession is not flashy — 002. just for a month

previous // next

word count — 909

warning(s) — none... except a painfully whipped chan <3

lunch time at the hospital was always busy. today's lunch crew consists of the interns along with dr. moon from neuro and dr. hong from gs.

dr. moon took a small glance over at y/n who was currently pacing back and forth talking to someone on the phone. he then turned his attention to chan, "dr. jeon told me you actually met up with him for shadowing today--how was that?"

"it was fine…" chan sighed, "but y/n was with dr. kim today. i should have just followed them."

"you know dr. kim thinks you're really fond of pediatrics with how often you 'try' to shadow him." dr hong chuckled.

"he's only doing it so he can keep an eye on his girl." vernon said through a mouthful of rice. "we clowned him earlier today about it and i guess it was enough for him to finally follow his schedule with dr. jeon."

"oh? my girl?" dr. moon smirked, "when did this couple become a thing?"

"w-we're not a couple yet… unless y/n has said something about me…?" chan said in a hopeful tone. the whole table softly laughed at the youngest's antics surrounding his very obvious feelings. "a-anyways! sure, so what if i like y/n? it's not like it's that obvious!"

"it is very obvious." vernon deadpanned. seungkwan nodded along,

"you're always buying y/n lunch and never us…" seungkwan listed.

"that one time when you tried to arm wrestle dr. choi after y/n mentioned how strong he was and then dr. choi almost dislocated your shoulder…" dr. hong added.

"i also remember during the previous hospital dinner party, dr. kim and y/n were talking about their interest in eating chicken breast for protein and then you proceeded to eat an obscene amount of chicken that night and threw up…"

"okay!" the youngest exclaimed, "i admit, i am a little obvious…"

"i think all of the departments know about your little crush." dr. moon comforted chan, "we're all supporting you so don't worry!"

after finishing the phone call, y/n walks back to the lunch table and sits down with a sigh, "sorry that took so long everyone, did i miss anything?"

"is something the matter y/n?" seungkwan asked, "you look really tired after that phone call."

"it was just my mom again--she won't stop bothering me about the wedding!" y/n rubbed her fingers against her temples, feeling an oncoming headache at the thought of thinking back to the conversation.

"what happened?" dr. hong asked, "if you don't mind telling us."

"yeah it's not a big deal. seungkwan, vernon, and chan already know a little." y/n sighed once again, "my cousin is getting married and her wedding is like a month away. my mom has been pestering me nonstop to bring a date." y/n crossed her arms across her chest to display her annoyance, "i know she's worried about me with how busy school and rotations at the hospital have been, but i feel like a relationship right now wouldn't be the best for me."

"why does your mom want you to have a date so bad?" dr. moon questioned.

"i know she's just worried about me," y/n said, "but i also think it's because most, if not all of my cousins are in committed relationships right now. my mom thinks that i'm too focused on my career. she wants me to find a significant other before it's too late."

"that sucks y/n," dr. hong gave her a small pat on the back, "i'm sorry you have to deal with that right now."

"what does y/n have to deal with right now?" dr. kwon interjected as he placed his lunch tray down at the table.

"y/n has a family wedding to attend and her mom keeps pressuring her to bring a date." seungkwan summarizes to dr. kwon.

"why can't y/n just bring a fake date?" dr. kwon states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"a fake date? what do you mean a fake date?" y/n perks up.

"it's exactly like it sounds." dr. kwon says, "find someone to be your fake date for the night so that you can get your mom to stop pressuring you--there's a bunch of websites where you can just pay someone to do this for you."

"on this salary… i don't think i can afford that option." y/n says dejectedly.

"or you can just ask one of your friends to be your fake date for free!" dr. moon exclaims.

"i've never really thought of that… that's actually a really good idea dr. kwon." y/n turns to look at her three best guy friends, "seungkwan? vernon? would you guys be able to?"

"sorry y/n, seungkwan and i bought concert tickets for aespa that night… we've been planning it for awhile." vernon says.

"o-oh y/n i can be your fake date--if there's no one else!" chan stutters.

"that's perfect y/n!" seungkwan exclaims, "you and chan would be great together!"

"would you really chan? i'd owe you my life!" y/n beams at him.

"haha, no worries y/n!" chan smiles, "i'm down to be your fake boyfriend for the wedding…"

"then it's settled!" dr. moon laughs, "congrats to the new couple at the hospital! love is definitely in the air!"

"very funny dr. moon!" y/n chuckles, "it's just for a month!"

[borathae]

“Taehyung doesn’t possess patience when it comes to reconnecting with his boyfriend. Jungkook’s there to remind him to take it easy despite the aching longing.”

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire!Jungkook

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, some domestic Fluff in the beginning, Polyamory!AU

Warnings: Taehyung has major FOMO poor boy, he misses his poly family :(, then Kookie comes back home heheh, this is disgusting nasty porn yall, the neediest vampire sex ever, Hard Dom & Top!Jungkook, neediest sub & Bottom!Taehyung, tears, drool, painful anal without preparation at first because Tae wants it, before Kook decides enough is enough and prepares him, strength & muscle kink, feral play (this is a needy Ripper "hunting" a needy Normal besties), rimjob, anal fingering, anal fisting (the real deal), he takes him into a headlock as he does it, lube enema, dirty talk, huge ownership kink (Tae calls Kook "Owner" and Kook calls him "property"), slight dollification, praise, degradation, hair pulling, big dicks, non painful anal as well, oh Tae you impatient bottom, rough blood drinking, stuff goes up Tae's ass which shouldn't go up his ass jsjjsj, besties you have no idea how unhinged this is, but it is also insanely soft and safe, the most comforting aftercare, they're so in love omfg

Wordcount: 8.8k

a/n: this is based on anonie's idea, i probably made it way hornier than you wanted it but i couldn't help myself, i was ovulating as i worked on it fajdsjfa i feel like i need to write your idea as well hahah keep it tame because this is quite frankly nasty porn bahahha enjoy besties, this is so disgusting omfg 😩💜

Taehyung has been alone at the estate for five days. Truly and really alone. You, Yoongi and Hoseok are visiting Seokjin and Emma in Gordes. Jimin is currently visiting friends in London and won’t be home for another week. And Jungkook, well, Jungkook has been on a boxing camp trip for a week now. Which leaves poor Taehyung all alone at the estate. 

He could have obviously gone to Gordes as well or went with Jimin, and Jungkook would have probably liked him there with him as well, but Taehyung had a painting to finish. He really wanted to finish it. Being alone at the estate, trapped in the ecstatic state of painting was fun for the first three days, but Taehyung has been beginning to feel lonely. A painting can only distract him that much before the sad state of himself comes creeping up on him.

Taehyung hadn’t even realised how much of his day actually consists of being with his forever family. Be it voluntarily or just simply by existing in the same space together. Taehyung really began to miss those small moments of quality time. 

Painting doesn’t feel as nice anymore and he regrets not accompanying one of his friends. He could be in Gordes right now, sipping French wine with his friends, he could be in London right now chatting with Jimin and his friends, he could also be in some rural American boxing camp, watching Jungkook hit punches at other boxing lovers. He could be somewhere else other than his lonely, quiet atelier. 

Taehyung huffs out air in frustration and drops the paint brush in the water. He doesn’t want to paint anymore. 

He gets up and leaves the atelier and soon his wing. The estate is so big and so empty. Every room he passes makes him feel more and more frustrated. 

Perhaps he could talk to someone on the phone. The time shows eight at night, so everyone must still be awake.

He tries you first. You don’t pick up your phone, but a text message arrives soon after.

-          Sweetest ♡: I’m sorry, my darling but we’re currently at a wine tasting and I can’t talk here. I’ll call back later. I love you ♡ 

Taehyung pouts. A wine tasting?? This is so unfair! He wants to be at a wine tasting as well! 

He sends you an answer with a jealous pout on his lips.

-          Taehyung: Don’t worry about it. Have fun, my darling ♡ 

-          Sweetest ♡: We do. We’re thinking of you, sweetiepie eheh ♡

You attached a selfie of you and the others. Seokjin and Emma are glued together. Emma is grinning brightly, while Seokjin smolders like always. Yoongi has his arm around you, throwing up a peace sign with a toothless smile, while you in contrast show your upper and lower teeth in a cute smile. Hoseok is the one holding the phone, making a cute kissy face at the camera. You all have a wine glass in your hands. 

Taehyung smiles and pouts at the same time. As much as he feels sad about it, he also really likes this selfie. You took this picture just for him, thinking of him, but he wants to be on it as well! It’s unfair! He wants to be on the selfie and not here! 

-          Taehyung: I want to be with you :( I regret my decision of staying here :(

-          Sweetest ♡: Nooo Tete, I’m sorry you feel this way :( maybe you could still book a ticket and come here belated?

-          Taehyung: Perhaps I will truly do this. I shall talk to Jimin first. I need to hear human voices again.

-          Sweetest ♡: Gosh, I understand :( I promise once I have time, I’ll call you back ♡

-          Taehyung: Take your time. I love you ♡

-          Sweetest ♡: Love you more, darling sweetest sugerbutt ♡ 

Taehyung laughs, scrunching his nose. He likes it when you call him silly nicknames. This instantly lifted his mood. He sends you one last text which consists of laughing emojis and a heart, then tries to call Jimin.

His best friend picks up after the fifth ring. Loud techno music fills Taehyung’s speaker instantly.

“Hey Tete, I can’t talk right now. We’re at this rave and it’s crazy loud here. I’ll call you back later.”

The phone call ends again. Taehyung pouts. Well, that was a fail. This is so unfair! One friend group is spending their evening tasting French wine, while the other is getting drunk at a rave. Taehyung has never in his life felt more left out than he does right now. This is so unfair! 

He tries to call Jungkook. Perhaps he will finally give him the kind of human contact he needs. 

“Hey”

“Kookie, he-”

“You’ve reached my voicemail which means I’m currently not available. Leave your message after the beep, I’ll definitely forget to listen to it. Byee.” 

The phone beeps.

“For heaven’s sake, Kook. Why must you start your stupid message with a greeting? Do you have any idea of the hope that I just lost? The betrayal I feel? How could you do this to me? I am aching in loneliness and you betray me so cruelly. I won’t forgive you. Change your voice message”, Taehyung rants and ends the call with a huff of air and an aggressive slam of his finger.

Taehyung feels guilty instantly. This was terribly mean. He calls Jungkook again, hoping that he will pick up, even if he knows that he won’t.

“Hey. You’ve reached my voicemail which means I’m currently not available. Leave your message after the beep, I’ll definitely forget to listen to it. Byee.” 

“Please forgive me. I didn’t mean my last voice message. It is just that…I am so lonely and I need you with me again. I should have never stayed here. Oh Kookie, I miss you. Okay, uhm, goodbye.” 

He ends the call again and stuffs his phone into his pocket. Well, this didn’t help. 

Now Taehyung experiences major jealousy on top of all the loneliness as well. He wants to taste wine and dance at raves and be at boxing camps. He wants to be included! 

Taehyung spends the next hours sulking in the sitting room. Jimin doesn’t call back, you don’t call back and Jungkook doesn’t call back either. Taehyung is going to die alone. This is what is going to happen. He is going to die from loneliness and the grief of being so left out.

Taehyung goes to sleep without any kind of phone calls coming in, but wakes up to sorry messages from you and Jimin.

Jimin sent his message at around four twenty five in the morning.

-          Jimin ♡: I’m so sorry, I just came home from the rave. I tried to call, but you are sleeping already. I hope you didn’t wait for it for too long.

-          Taehyung: I didn’t. It’s okay. I hope you aren’t too hungover. ♡

He opens your chat next. They arrived last night at around two.

-          Sweetest ♡: TETE I'M SORRY IFGORIT TI CALL

-          Sweetest ♡: IM DRUNJ AND YONGUS IS TELLING EE TO STOP TEXT7NG 

-          Sweetest ♡: but I wanma text yiu and say sorry 

-          Sweetest ♡: TTET I.M SORRY I LOVE YOU SO MICH PLEAWE DONT BE SAD YOU VAN COME HEER IF YOI WNAT TO 

-          Sweetest ♡: 😭😭😭

Taehyung smiles. You are cute. 

-          Taehyung: It seems that the wine tasting was successful 🤣 just sleep it off, darling. I understand ♡

He locks his phone again and rolls out of bed. The loneliness still remains, but at least he feels assured that his friends tried to call once they actually found the time. Everyone except Jungkook. He is still giving Taehyung the silent treatment. 

Insecurity joins the loneliness and jealousy. What if he is doing it on purpose? What if Jungkook doesn’t want to talk to him? 

Taehyung spends most of his morning hours analysing every text message they exchanged and looking at every picture he sent. He analyses everything. Every word, every letter and every face he can spot in the pictures. He can see a lot of faces which are exactly Jungkook’s type. And even more body types which are exactly his taste. 

What if he is moving on with people from the boxing camp? What if he is forgetting about him because he has people way more his type by his side? 

Taehyung spends the early afternoon hours feeling sorry for himself and crying in insecurity. Yes, the abandoned estate is definitely not doing him well.

Taehyung is in his wing, feeling sad and lonely, when he hears the front door open. He abandons his painting and uses his powers to get to the entrance. 

He doesn’t even bother to use the stairs, flinging himself over the railing so he can jump down this way. He lands quietly, but still startles whoever walked through the front door.

“Geez! You scared me, oh my god!”

“Jungkook! Jungkook, you are home!?” 

“Hey there, oof”, Jungkook says and grunts, stumbling back as he gets Taehyung throwing himself around his neck. His back knocks into the door from the force of Taehyung’s jump, making Jungkook both laugh and grunt. 

“You’re home! You’re home!”

Taehyung wraps his legs around his waist, using his strength to keep himself glued to Jungkook. The latter drops his bags and slides his hands under Taehyung’s butt to support him.

“Welcome home to me, I guess. Are you okay? Are you crying?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Baby, what’s the matter?” 

“Why did you ignore me? Did I do something?”

“I’m sorry Tae, fuck. I’ve been travelling since yesterday and didn’t have my phone turned on. Did you need something?”

“Yes. You”, Taehyung says and lifts his head.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, reaching up to wipe the tears away. His eyes are soft in adoration. He keeps one hand under Taehyung’s butt, using the back of his other hand to wipe his cheeks and on the side he can reach easier, he uses his thumb to dry his tears. Taehyung leans into the touches, sniffling with the biggest pout on his lips.

“God Tae, you old sap. I’m here now though.”

“Good”, Taehyung says and slams his lips down onto Jungkook’s.

“Mhm”, he lets out, accepting his fate with a fond chuckle. Taehyung isn’t going to break this kiss any time soon. That much is sure.

Jungkook collides with the wall, gasping loudly at the rough contact. Taehyung latches himself onto him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He whimpers and mewls, sucking on Jungkook’s skin as if his life depended on it. 

“Tae, fuck”, Jungkook purrs, rolling his eyes back sensually and tilting his head to the side. Taehyung’s fangs grace his skin sometimes, his long fingers dig deep into his flesh. His boyfriend is desperate and he lets Jungkook feel it.

“Fuck baby, that feels so good, fuck”, Jungkook purrs, groping Taehyung’s hips to get him closer. He even lifts his knee just enough that Taehyung can hump it. 

He was correct. Taehyung didn’t break the kiss in a long time. Jungkook doesn’t know how long he spent carrying him as he kissed him in the entrance hall. He probably would still do it if he hadn’t set him down gently and made the mistake of breaking the kiss. 

“Can I at least take off my coat?” he asked, but Taehyung didn’t let him.

Taehyung ripped it off of him and then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to drag him upstairs. Jungkook followed with laughter and attempted complaints to slow down, but Taehyung merely silenced him with deep kisses and needy groping. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how long it took them to get to Taehyung’s wing. The walk isn’t long normally, but Taehyung kept pressing him against whatever surface closest and then proceeded to kiss him forever. Truly, Jungkook didn’t even get to breathe properly, let alone speak words.

Taehyung lifts his puffy lips from Jungkook’s heavily marked neck. He groans as he does, grabbing his boyfriend by his clothes so he could drag him again. Jungkook lets it happen with a laugh, throwing his head back in joy.

“Fuck Tae, just let me come home. I was on a plane not long ago, I’m disoriented.”

“Come home with my help”, Taehyung answers him and throws him onto his atelier’s fur rug.

Jungkook falls, laughing loudly because the entire situation is hilariously cute to him. He loves being welcomed home this way. He really does. 

“Fuck Tae, you needy baby”, he laughs. His dark hair is a mess, Taehyung messes it up even more when he mounts his lap and then drags him into a sloppy kiss by his hair.

Jungkook purrs deeply, kissing him back happily. His strong hands come to grasp his boyfriend’s body, dimpling the softness of his thighs and marking his waist as his’.

By now, it is clear to him what this night will bring. Bodies reconnecting in the most carnal of ways. He doesn’t dislike this idea. On the contrary, the sweatpants he’s been wearing have become rather tight around his crotch and breathing is so difficult when all he can do is fight for air. He missed Taehyung. He really did.

Jungkook wasn’t supposed to come home for another week, but couldn’t take the distance anymore. With a yearning heart, he booked a plane ticket and decided to surprise Taehyung by coming home earlier than planned. The aching for his warm touch and lovely voice was just too grande. Jungkook had hoped that Taehyung would welcome him home passionately, smiling into the kiss now that it is finally his sweet reality.

Taehyung’s weight is atop his swollen cock, grinding and grinding and grinding against him in needy riding motions. The chuckles once present on Jungkook’s swollen lips get replaced by deep purrs of desperation.

“Fuck. Tae”, he murmurs between kisses, “I’m hard for you. Fuck. So hard.”

The kiss breaks through Taehyung’s will. Jungkook is left gasping and chasing his lips. Not for long however because then they are busy parting in shock as he watches Taehyung rip his own clothes from his body. Yes, truly and honestly rip. The fabric rips easily under his immense strength. Not even the leather belt stands a chance, getting thrown to the side.

“Damn baby…”

Once entirely naked and exposed, Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s shirt. His heavy, swollen cock slaps against his own stomach with each movement, but neither man cares right now. Taehyung because he needs to get Jungkook naked and the latter because he fears for his shirt’s life.

“Wait! Don’t!” Jungkook blurts out and sits up to take it off quickly, “don’t rip my clothes. I like them.”

“Hurry up, please”, Taehyung begs, leaking onto Jungkook’s lap because his cock is so, so lonely. He is kneeling for now, giving Jungkook space to move.

“Jesus fuck Tae, what’s gotten into you? I’ve never seen you that horny before” Jungkook mumbles, taking off his pants as well.

“I was so lonely. Oh Kook, I was so lonely.”

“I’m here now, baby.”

“Please don’t listen to the voice messages I left.”

Jungkook meets Taehyung’s eyes. He is smirking playfully while Taehyung seems embarrassed.

“I am serious.”

“You know that I really wanna do it now, don’t you?”

“No. They’re stupid”, Taehyung says and hooks his hands in Jungkook’s briefs.

Rip!

“Hey!” Jungkook gasps, watching with big eyes as Taehyung throws his destroyed briefs over his shoulders, “what the hell? I told you that I’ll do it, didn’t I? Huh? Where did you get that lube from? Tae wait, what are you doing?”

Taehyung scrambles onto Jungkook’s lap higher and pushes him down into the rug again. Jungkook moans, connecting with the floor in a low thump.

“Tae give me a min- holy fuck”, Jungkook gasps and arches his back, gripping Taehyung’s waist desperately. Taehyung is jerking his cock quickly, using lube to make it slip easier, “Tae…holy fuck ahmmm”, he purrs deeply, looking just a little dazed.

“I need you”, Taehyung chokes out and positions himself over Jungkook’s cock.

“Tae, you didn’t even stretch”, Jungkook gasps, sitting up in horror as he watches his terribly unprepared boyfriend lower his hips closer and closer to his cock. He grips his hips, tries to stop him but too late. His unstretched hole comes in contact with Jungkook girthy cockhead. The resistance even hurts Jungkook and he has the easier job of sinking in, “baby, stop that.”

“Be quiet”, Taehyung murmurs and stubbornly pushes down. He rim protests in stinging pain.

“Hey, you’ll hurt yourself, hey”, Jungkook tries to stop him. He really, really does, but Taehyung is stubborn and he is desperate for cock.

He tries harder. Jungkook’s thick tip breaches his hole. The resistance breaks with a snap and then Taehyung sinks down three inches within the blink of an eye.

“Ah”, he lets out, convulsing in obvious discomfort.

“Holy fuck, you’re so tight”, Jungkook croaks, gasping for air as his brows shoot up in surprise.

Taehyung sobs, pushing his hips down even if his hole begs him to stop.

“Hey stop it please Tae”, Jungkook speaks softly but with worry in his voice, “come on, get off. I’ll eat you out, finger you until you’re loose.”

“Shut up”, Taehyung spits, finally lifting his head and giving Jungkook view of his tear-stained face, “I don’t want to be stretched. I don’t care about the pain, I just want to be with you again. Stop telling me to get off of you. Do you not want me? Is that it?” he babbles and sobs.

“Tae, no”, Jungkook gasps, cradling his cheeks, “of course I want you. Hey, don’t cry, hey it’s okay”, he whispers and begins littering his face with worried kisses.

“Then stop saying that”, Taehyung gets out and whimpers.

Jungkook bottoms out. Taehyung’s walls are almost painfully tight around his cock, his rim squeezes so harshly around his base that it feels as if he was wearing a cockring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna make you cry. I just worry”, Jungkook whispers and wipes his tears, “doesn’t it hurt?”

“I don’t care. I want to be with you”, Taehyung says and drops his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck. He hugs him, burying his left hand deep in his hair and gripping his upper arm with his right hand, “please I want to be with you, please.”

“You can, baby. I’m not going anywhere”, Jungkook assures him, hugging him gently as his hand dances up and down his back.

“Do you want me?”

“Of course I do. I want you so bad.”

“Then show me.”

“What?”

“Show me”, Taehyung insists louder, squeezing Jungkook against him, “show me please”, he adds and whimpers as he tries to move on Jungkook’s cock.

The younger vampire understands. He wants him to do the fucking. Jungkook pushes his legs apart for better support and rolls his hips up. His cock has a hard time shifting inside Taehyung. The pained moan Taehyung releases was expected by Jungkook.

“Don’t you want to take it slow? I can barely move”, Jungkook says.

Taehyung shakes his head, giving his hair an impatient tug.

“Fine. One more time. I’ll move now”, Jungkook says and rolls his hips up.

Taehyung moans painfully again, scraping his nails over Jungkook’s scalp.

“Again. Now”, Jungkook warns him and bucks his hips up.

It is difficult for him to listen to Taehyung’s pained noises. He pulls him closer, trying to ease the pain by spreading his buttocks. It eases some of the pressure around his shaft, he hopes that it eases some of the burn for Taehyung as well.

“Again. Now”, he says and fucks his cock into his tight hole.

Taehyung shudders, fleeing the thrust instinctively.

“Please say something. Are you okay?” Jungkook begs and slides his fingers to Taehyung’s hole to soothe it. He rubs his burning rim in circular motions, keeping his hips still for now.

“It feels so good.”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re fleeing.”

“Please, I’m begging you, please”, Taehyung begs and sobs against Jungkook’s neck, “please don’t stop.”

“Fuck”, Jungkook gets out, gripping Taehyung’s ass to spread it. He rolls his hips up, biting down on his lower lip because the squeeze is incredibly intense. Taehyung’s tight walls basically drag Jungkook’s skin over his own cockhead, giving him sensations normally only a tight handjob brings with it. He drops his hips, squeezing Taehyung’s buttocks before he thrusts up again. It drags and drags and drags. He drops again.

“Fuck, I think you need more lube.”

“No, it’s perfect. Please.”

“It feels like your ass is fucking jerking me off. It’s so tight.”

“Good”, Taehyung convulses in a grateful sob, pressing his hips back onto Jungkook’s cock, “I’m serving you. Owner gets jerked with my useless ass.”

Jungkook throbs inside Taehyung. He widens his eyes, staring at the room with held breath.

“Owner?”

“I’m your property.”

“Tae”, Jungkook croaks and buries his right hand in his hair, “holy fuck, what are you saying?”

“Please tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re my owner.”

“I am. I fucking own you. Holy fuck, Tae”, Jungkook gets out and growls deeply, gripping Taehyung’s waist to keep his hips still. He fucks up into him. The pressure is still there, the squeeze of his rim didn’t get less.

Taehyung moans painfully, arching his back as he begs to be fucked through it.

“Keep breathing. I own you and I want you to fucking breathe for me, property. Understood?”

“Yes”, Taehyung mewls, nodding his head vigorously. He is drifting away into a headspace he hasn’t been in for a long time. Jungkook should have never ever been gone for as long as he did, because Taehyung should have never left this headspace for as long as he had to.

“That’s it. I like when you behave. I’ll do it again. Breathe in.”

Taehyung obeys.

“And out.”

Taehyung obeys for a second and then Jungkook’s cock stretching his hole makes him sob instead.  

“In.”

Taehyung obeys. It doesn’t hurt when Jungkook pulls out. It feels good. Like something, which wasn’t supposed to be there, is finally getting removed. Of course that’s it. Jungkook’s cock is still an unwanted object for his hole. Of course it feels good when he pulls out and therefore removes it.

“Out.”

Taehyung obeys. The burn returns. Taehyung can barely exhale before his throat produces another pained whimper. He pushes back. He wants it to stop burning. He needs his body to understand that Jungkook isn’t unwanted, that his cock is familiar to his hole and that he is exactly where he is supposed to be. His heart knows, his brain as well, so why does his body refuse to acknowledge it?

“In.”

Taehyung obeys.

“Out.”

A second then it hurts and he whimpers.

“Why?” he sobs.

“What’s the matter?”

“Why doesn’t it get it? Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not foreign. Why doesn’t it get it?”

“Who?”

“My body”, Taehyung lifts his head to stare at Jungkook with widened, teary eyes, “why doesn’t it want to accept you back? I want to have you back so bad. Why is it making it so hard?”

Jungkook frowns.

“Don’t look at me this way. Please, I’m not crazy.”

“Hey. Stop that”, Jungkook says and lifts him off his lap. He gets on his knees, carrying Taehyung in his arms. He keeps his cock inside because he is aware that if he pulled out, Taehyung might have a mental breakdown. It is obvious in how desperately he clings to him instantly and how he tries to clench even if that makes it hurt even more.

“You’re not crazy. You’re just impatient”, Jungkook speaks to him softly and full of patience. He lies him down on his back, supporting his head until it is safely engulfed in the fur of his rug. He pulls out.

“No. Please”, Taehyung begs, trying to pull him back with his legs around his hips, but Jungkook shakes them off. He grabs for him next, “please. Please don’t do this, please.”

“It’s okay, just keep breathing”, Jungkook assures him and takes Taehyung’s legs to slide them off his hips. He struggles for a bit as Taehyung tries to use his strength against him, “come on”, is all Jungkook needs to say for Taehyung’s legs to fall off of him like limp, useless things. 

“That’s better”, Jungkook praises and positions himself over Taehyung. 

Taehyung looks up at him. Sniffly, teary eyed and pouty. His normally big hands are balled into tiny fists, resting on his chest this way. 

“Who knows what’s best for you?” Jungkook speaks in a soft voice, staring deep into his eyes.

“You”, Taehyung whispers.

“That’s right. And what does that mean for you?” 

“Owner controls me.”

“That too, but…”

“I, I have to let you do what needs to, to be done.”

“Good job”, Jungkook praises and rewards Taehyung with kisses to his overly sensitive neck. 

Taehyung moans shakily instantly, rolling his head to the side as far as it can go. Every kiss placed onto his skin feels better than the one before. Every kiss painted onto his body leaves him trembling for Jungkook. It feels so good to be adored.

Jungkook doesn’t stay on his neck for as long as Taehyung would have wanted him to, but he doesn’t get to complain because he makes up for it by kissing his way down to his nipples and taking them into his mouth. 

Taehyung opens his legs as far as he can. He arches his back, gasps for air and whimpers even louder. His cock is throbbing, his hole is clenching and his veins are filling with electricity. It feels so good. Jungkook feels so good.

And again, he doesn’t stay on his nipples for as long as Taehyung wanted him too. And again, Taehyung doesn’t mind because he makes up for it.

Jungkook straightens up, kneeling by Taehyung’s side, and wraps his arms around Taehyung’s right thigh. He lifts his lower body off the ground and twists it just enough that he has access to his hole. He moans as he buries his face between his ass, closing his eyes because there is no sweeter taste to him.

Taehyung wails up in pleasure, gripping the fur of the rug and twisting it desperately just as Jungkook twists his body to gain access to his hole. He soothes the burn with eager licks, drawing the first moan of honest pleasure from Taehyung’s lips.

Jungkook purrs, furrowing his brows in bliss. Taehyung tastes like sweet lube and hints of his own cock. He licks it off of him eagerly until only the taste of his hole remains. Addictive. His taste is a fucking drug to Jungkook. He growls and buries his face deeper until his nose is surrounded by his musk and sweet scent.

“Kook…”

“You taste so good, holy fuck”, Jungkook lulls and fucks his tongue deeper, grinding his nose against his ass this way. 

Taehyung whines and wiggles, trying to flee because it feels too good to handle. It triggers Jungkook’s hunting instincts, resulting in the Ripper to wrap his strong arms around Taehyung’s hips and keep them still this way. He growls into him, shoving his wet tongue into his hole in an almost punishing rhythm.

“Kook”, Taehyung wails into the rug, “please. Please Kook please.”

Jungkook answers him in growls and his tongue curling deep inside. His biceps is tensing, his fingers are bruising the soft parts of Taehyung’s waist. He can beg all he wants, Jungkook is going to show him how well he can prepare him.

He hates when Taehyung is impatient. It angers him. His boyfriend shouldn’t hurt himself just because he is too needy for his own sake. He should take it slow, stretch until his hole is shaped for Jungkook. His impatience is offensive to Jungkook. How dare he not take the best care of himself. How dare he neglect himself.

“It’s too much please, it’s too much”, Taehyung begs, grabbing bundles of the rug far above his head so he can drag himself away from Jungkook’s eager mouth.

Jungkook breaks away from him, hunting him with a deep growl of his name.

“Don’t flee”, he orders, grabbing Taehyung’s hips to drag him back.

Taehyung slides over the rug with a squeak and his trembling fingers losing grip on the rug.

“When I tell you that I wanna prepare you, you’re supposed to arch your back and let me do my fucking thing. Understood?”

“It feels too good, I can’t do this”, Taehyung mewls, fighting his boyfriend’s grip just so he can pull him back again. He loves this so much. To be so desired to be taken forcefully turns him on so much. This is exactly what he needed. He needed to be hunted and claimed.

“I don’t care. You’re gonna feel good. Now arch your back.”

Taehyung whimpers, getting to his knees and elbows to arch his back.

“That’s better. Such a good property”, Jungkook praises and buries his face back between Taehyung’s buttocks. He sucks and licks eagerly, feasting on his taste like a starved man.

“Kook please”, Taehyung chokes out, dropping his face on his own lower arm. He pulls his lips back in a mewl, furrowing his brows. He never should have gotten to his knees. It is difficult to keep the position when Jungkook makes his thighs shake so much.

It is moments like these which remind the two men how useless the passage of time is to them. The night ages, but they are still the same. Jungkook takes a lot of time feasting on his boyfriend’s sculpted ass. By the time he finally lifts his head again, Taehyung soaked the rug with his leaking cock and his legs barely want to support him.

“Holy fuck Tae”, Jungkook groans, “holy fuck, I need to bottle your taste so I can always have it. Holy fuck”, he moans and licks a thick stripe along Taehyung’s spine. He forces him onto the ground this way, using his body weight for it. It is an easy task to pin down Taehyung. He lets it happen willingly, tilting his head into unnatural angles just so Jungkook has access to his throat. Jungkook claims it with a guttural moan and his tongue leaving wet strips of ownership on his skin.

“Who do you belong to?” Jungkook rasps.

“You”, Taehyung whimpers.

Jungkook purrs, wrapping his stronger arm around Taehyung’s throat so he can take him into a headlock.

“Who owns you?”

“You.”

Jungkook drags Taehyung into a different position so he was spooning him. They are so close this way. Jungkook’s thick, swollen cock presses against Taehyung’s ass this way. Taehyung gasps for air in the tight headlock, drooling all over Jungkook’s arm.

“Who dictates your every step?”

“You”, Taehyung presses out and trembles.

“That’s right”, Jungkook closes his arm tighter around Taehyung, dragging his parted lips over his temple. He runs his other hand down his side, sliding it under his thigh, “lift your leg.”

Taehyung obeys happily, panting in excitement. Now it is finally time. He was patient and Jungkook will finally reward him with his cock. He lifts his bent leg as high as he can, arching his back so Jungkook has even better access to his needy hole.

“There we go. Such a good property”, Jungkook rasps and fills Taehyung’s hole.

With his finger. One of it. He is being purposefully cruel at this point. Taehyung could easily take three.

Taehyung huffs out air as much as he whimpers, pressing back into Jungkook’s hand in an attempt to get more.

Jungkook watches with a dirty grin on his lips, keeping his finger still so he can feel every desperate clench Taehyung’s hole is doing.

“Please”, Taehyung begs.

“Please what?”

“More. Please more.”

“But Tae. I need to prepare you.”

“Please Owner, please don’t do this to me, please”, Taehyung chokes out and grips Jungkook’s lower arm, “please, I need more please.”

“You’re adorable”, Jungkook rasps and buries two more fingers in Taehyung’s hole.

He can literally feel the relief in Taehyung’s sigh, watch it in the way his entire body relaxes and smell it in the thick droplets of pleasure seeping from his cock. He was so tense, but suddenly grows limp in Jungkook’s arms. As if Jungkook’s fingers pressed a button and shed his body of every burden ever.

His eyes roll back and close halfway, his mouth opens without ever closing. This is true bliss. This is how he looks when he finally experiences true bliss.

Jungkook feels a warm tug on his heart, his stomach flutters. He has the prettiest boyfriend. Look at him relaxing on his fingers. Look at him getting high on the feeling of them. Look at him being so perfect.

Jungkook leans down and kisses his cheek, keeping close afterwards. He begins moving inside him, fucking his fingers in and out slowly and curling them each time they press against his prostate.

“You’re so pretty”, Jungkook whispers.

“Kook”, Taehyung keens, spilling tears on his arm. He is pretty. He is desired, he is loved, he is wanted. His body grows so weak in relief that his leg drops and his hands slip from Jungkook’s lower arm.

“Hurts?” Jungkook asks, chasing him.

“More.”

Jungkook obeys, burying his pinkie inside him as well. His hole welcomes him greedily, swallowing his hand until he sits inside him to his knuckles. He throbs and convulses around him, burying his face in Jungkook’s arm. His moan is muffled like this, Jungkook feels it against his skin.

“Isn’t that so much better, hm?” Jungkook whispers deeply, “to let me prepare you and show you how slutty your hole can get? Mhm? Isn’t that so much better?”

“Yes”, Taehyung mewls, nodding his head vigorously. He pulls his lips back again, squeezing his eyes shut, “ah, ah, a-ah.”

“Keep moaning for me, that’s it. Such a good property. Fuck, I own the best boy”, Jungkook praises, twisting his hand deep inside Taehyung.

“Ohgnng”, Taehyung chokes out through gritted teeth, twisting a bundle of the fur rug. Jungkook watches it happen, just as he watches how much his fingers shook as he did it.

He repeats what he did before. Hand deep inside him. Twist it. Left and right, left and right, left and right. Shape his hole, stretch his rim, fill his walls. Twist, twist, twist.

Taehyung begins shaking so sweetly, drooling so much onto Jungkook’s arm that it is running down his sculpted paths by now.

Out again. Jungkook picks up the thick, wet pleasure Taehyung’s cock leaks and covers his hand with it. 

“How’s my boy doing, hm?”

“Good…”

“That’s good to hear. Such a good property, I love owning you so much. Now breathe for me.”

Taehyung obeys, feeling dizzy. This is the best and safest headspace he has ever been in. He is owned. Desired. Pretty. Wanted. Taken care of. He is so safe. So, so safe. 

Back again. Jungkook fills his boyfriend with his hand. No fingers left out. Hand slickened by Taehyung and body so close to him. Taehyung takes Jungkook’s fist as if he was born to do so, sobbing into his arm because nothing will ever prepare him for the fullness. There is no resistance, no pain. Just pleasure and the ecstatic knowledge that he is able to take an entire hand. His rim sits around Jungkook’s wrist, his walls pulsate around his hand.

“How’s that?”

“Good”, Taehyung whimpers, throbbing around Jungkook’s fist.

Jungkook curses under his breath, and drags his lips to Taehyung’s ear.

“You take a fist like no other, Tete”, he whispers raspily, twisting it inside him.

“You’re making me climax”, Taehyung mewls, convulsing around his fist.

“I am?”

He nods his head vigorously.

“Do you want it?”

He shakes his head vigorously.

“I figured. That’s my good property, you know your fucking place”, Jungkook praises and pulls his hand out.

Taehyung hole complains loudly, gaping around nothing.

“Oh god, it hurts”, Taehyung whines, twitching in the agony of getting edged.

“I know”, Jungkook says and sits up. He slides his arm from under Taehyung’s head and grabs the older vampire’s hips to lift them and fix his position. He turns his body so he was resting on his tummy, then places his hips back into the rug. He fixes the position of his bent leg, running his palm up the back of his thigh. He pushes his hips into the rug, forcing a shaky whimper to escape Taehyung because the movement grinds his cock against the fur. It sticks to his cock and feels rough. Taehyung opens his trembling fingers just so he can bury them deeper in the fur.

“There we go. You’re such a good property, letting me fix you like you’re my pretty doll.” 

Taehyung mewls, shaking as if Jungkook just fucked him deep and hard. He loves being a doll. He especially loves being Jungkook’s doll. He loves it so, so much.

Sometimes, when Jungkook makes him feel especially safe, he slips into a doll-like headspace and when that happens, Jungkook truly controls everything which happens to Taehyung. He carries him around, fixes his positions, plays with him, dresses him up and most importantly bundles him in cozy blankets once he is done. And Taehyung loves every second of it, feeling so so safe that sometimes he ends up crying happy tears in Jungkook’s arms.

Taehyung loves being Jungkook’s pretty doll. He loves it so, so much.

Jungkook’s hands leave his body. Taehyung lies limp just like Jungkook’s pretty doll is supposed to, waiting for him impatiently patient. The sound of something being twisted open meets Taehyung’s ear, the sound of something being placed aside follows. A slight wet sound, then something seems to spread the wetness. Silence.

Jungkook’s left hand touches his butt and spreads it apart. Cool wetness touches his rim. Pressure. A stretch. It is nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s fist.

Taehyung mewls, trying to make sense of what is happening. Jungkook just inserted something in his hole, he knows that much, but it doesn’t feel like his fist nor his cock. It is hard and has plastic rills all over it.

Something cold and wet begins filling him up.

“Wh-what?” Taehyung gets out, reaching behind himself until he can hold Jungkook’s wrist, “what are you doing to me? What are you putting inside?”

“Do you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“How does it feel?”

“Cold. Wet.”

“Guess”, Jungkook says and more of it begins filling up his insides.

It is liquid. Very obviously. Taehyung tries to think even if his brain is getting scrambled. Liquid. Jungkook clearly opened something. Whatever is inside his ass feels hard like plastic and has the exact rills on its shaft like a bottle does. The lube bottle. Jungkook is feeding him lube straight from the bottle.

“Lube”, Taehyung gets out and whimpers, arching his back into the sensation.

“That’s right. I’m giving you a good, thick lube enema. Mhm? I know you like that, property.”

Taehyung sobs, convulsing desperately. Jungkook chuckles almost tauntingly.

“I knew you would like that”, he says and stops applying pressure on the bottle, “you know what to do?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Jungkook pulls out the bottle. Taehyung tries to clench instantly, but fails. There is just way too much lube inside and Jungkook’s fist stretched him too wide. The lube seeps out of him in big, gooey globs, covering his ass on its way down.

“Sorry”, he squeaks, reaching behind himself in a desperate attempt to scoop it up and put it back inside. It doesn’t work. All it does is get his fingers messy.

“You’re cute”, Jungkook chuckles and swats his hands away, “you won’t get anywhere like this. Let me”, he says and presses Taehyung’s hips snug against the floor.

He pushes his cock between his ass, feeding his dripping hole his cock in one good thrust.

“Ah!” Taehyung screams up, throwing his head back. 

“There we go, that’s gonna keep it inside”, Jungkook lulls and chases the sensation with sensual rolls of his hips.

Taehyung curls his toes, arches his back, clenches his hole, shakes. He can’t control any of the reactions washing over his body. He finally gets fucked by Jungkook. He needed his cock like nothing else. It doesn’t hurt anymore, it simply feels wonderful. The stretch is nice. The girth and impressive length fills him up so well and because Jungkook put so much fucking lube up his ass, there is not even a hint of friction. 

“How’s that, my doll?” Jungkook asks him, running his big hands along Taehyung’s soft sides until he has his waist between his fingers.

“Faster, please”, Taehyung squeaks out.

“Like this?” Jungkook asks as his hips pick up speed skilfully. He keeps Taehyung pinned down with both hands on his lower back and his huge thighs caging in Taehyung’s. 

“Kook, Koo-ook, oh god Kook!” Taehyung moans, throwing his head back as best as possible.

“That’s so much better. Fuck, I love fucking your ass when it’s like that”, Jungkook growls, drilling his huge cock up his boyfriend’s noisy hole, “don’t give me any of that unprepared, tight shit. Fuck, I love it most when you’re stretched. So fucking good, you’re such a good fucking property. Fuck.” 

“Owner, ah Owner please.”

“Please what? Use your words.” 

“Harder. Please!”

“You drive me fucking insane”, Jungkook growls and puts strength into his fast movements. Skin slaps against skin, lube spreads everywhere.

Taehyung wails, convulsing under him in pure ecstasy. He is getting drilled like a fucking animal. His hole keeps squirting lube, his ass keeps jiggling with each impact. He can feel Jungkook’s hip bones bruise his ass. It will begin hurting soon. Good. That means he is getting fucked hard and fast. 

“Harder please! Harder!”

“Urgh Tae”, Jungkook spits and bares his fangs in an angry scowl. He doesn’t hold back anymore. He isn’t human and neither is Taehyung. There is no fragility needing to be considered, no weak bones or long healing times. Jungkook doesn’t need to hold back and it’s fucking glorious. 

The marble under his knees cracks and breaks, forcing him to sink just a little deeper into Taehyung because of the sudden dent in the floor. Jungkook growls, breaking marble again as his toes try to grip. 

“Fuck Tae. Fuck”, he spits, chasing the ecstasy of being so fucking free. No restraints. No fucking restraints. Freedom. Hot, wet freedom lies right between Taehyung’s legs and he is the only one getting it. He is getting all of it. Fucking all of it.

Taehyung wails, clawing at the rug because somehow he still hadn’t expected Jungkook to go so berserk on him. He wanted it, knew that Jungkook could do it and yet he still wasn’t ready. It feels so good that Taehyung swears he is in a constant state of orgasmic bliss. That would explain why his prostate burns so much and why his stomach keeps convulsing. 

“You’re making my fucking cock grow. Holy fuck, Tae”, Jungkook growls and Taehyung swears he might rip his hole apart.

He reaches behind himself, clawing at Jungkook’s wrists until the younger vampire takes his hands and pins them above his head. He growls above him like a predator, drilling his fully grown vampire cock into his hole. Not an inch he leaves out. Not an inch misses out on Taehyung’s wet, burning insides. 

“Stay still”, Jungkook commands in a demonic voice. He breathes in through gritted teeth, making a deep grumbling sound as he does. He breathes out, the grumbling is louder, bordering that of a growl. 

“Big.” 

“Yeah, I’m big. So fucking big”, Jungkook hisses and squeezes Taehyung’s wrists together, “take me. Take all of me. You’re my property. Holy fuck, I fucking own you. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. Mine”, his voice loses more and more of its humanity the longer he chants. 

Taehyung is crying at this point, drooling into the rug as his nose becomes a snotty mess. It is obvious by now, he can’t stop fucking cumming. Jungkook’s cock is so big. His hips are punishing. His grip possessive and his words territorial. It makes Taehyung cum without a break in between.

“Mine. You’re mine. Mine, urgh Tae”, Jungkook growls and gives in. He buries his fangs deep in Taehyung’s neck, forcing the older vampire to scream up in a mixture of shock, pleasure and discomfort. 

Taehyung tries to flee, writhe away, get the fangs out his neck. Jungkook doesn’t let him shake him off. He slams his hand onto the back of Taehyung’s head and applies pressure. The fangs in his neck grow, his cock does as well. Jungkook is losing his humanity. Even the last little bit of it. He is an animal, a monster. This is his truest form.

Jungkook growls and huffs out air like an angry bull, sucking on Taehyung’s neck as if his life depended on it.

Sudden acidic burning fills Taehyung’s veins. It truly hurts, forcing him to writhe under Jungkook helplessly. And the most fucked up part of it? Taehyung has to fucking squirt because of it. He reaches behind himself and twists Jungkook’s hair to pull him tighter to his neck while his own grown cock squirts into the rug.

Jungkook growls and moans, shooting his acid deep into Taehyung’s neck just as his huge cock shoots far up his ass. His. Taehyung is his. He makes sure that his body remembers in more ways than one. Pumped full of his cum and his acid, Taehyung is truly and perfectly marked as Jungkook’s possession. 

Jungkook tenses up soon, dropping onto Taehyung as paralysation sets in. His huge cock is still throbbing inside him, his mouth is open and leaking saliva diluted blood all over Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung is destined to lie still and let Jungkook regain his control. He is heavy and stiff on top of him, his hot breath smells like blood and acid. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, crying softly. He is owned. He loves being owned. This just healed him. To be a prey so desired, to be devoured and brought to his limits. Taehyung feels so beautiful knowing that he could get Jungkook to lose control in such ways. He was desirable to him. He was good. Taehyung feels so beautiful and loved. So, so loved.

Jungkook begins moving soon, huffing out growled breaths as he pushes himself up onto his hands. He is still dripping blood from his mouth, his face is contorted into his truest form. Taehyung stays still, not daring to move and check up on him. Jungkook sounds scary and Taehyung has been reduced to a trembling, scared little thing. A happy thing, but scared nonetheless.

Jungkook pulls out of Taehyung’s ass and grips the lube bottle. He flips it to the bottle side and pushes it into Taehyung’s gaped asshole. This is calculated. This had a reason. Taehyung shouldn’t close up yet, he shouldn’t lose Jungkook’s cum. The bottle was the only thing big enough to fill his gape.

Taehyung whimpers, writhing helplessly. 

“Don’t move. If I come back and see you having spilled my cum, I’m gonna hurt you till you’re crying. Got it?” Jungkook commands in a demonic voice and gives the bottle a soft push.

“Yes”, Taehyung squeaks.

“Good. Pray to my fucking name until I’m back”, Jungkook orders and stands up to leave Taehyung fucked and used up on the rug. 

He is stumbling and panting, using furniture and walls to support himself. Humanity has to return to him. Jungkook is fighting the voices on his way outside.

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and does what Jungkook asked him to do. He starts praying. Praying to Jungkook’s name as if his life depended on it. The bottle in his ass is cold and therefore hurts. Jungkook shoved it so far up his ass that it is impossible to push it out. Not that he wants to push it out. It isn’t Jungkook’s cock though. Taehyung begins trembling as he begins missing him.

As if he sensed his boyfriend’s longing, Jungkook returns. He kneels down behind Taehyung and touches his lower back. 

“You kept it inside. Good job”, he praises and pulls the bottle outside. 

Taehyung hole makes a slutty sound and stays gaping. Part of his insides is showing itself to Jungkook. The latter traces it with his fingers, forcing whimpers out of Taehyung.

“I love when you gape”, Jungkook says and touches his thick rim with the tip of a buttplug. 

Taehyung tenses up, arching into the toy. He knows what it is. He can’t wait for it. 

Jungkook stops teasing and pushes. His gaped hole takes the toy easily, closing snug around it. It is a huge toy, but it is the only toy which could possibly fit right now. Jungkook shifts it from side to side until he is happy with its placement, then dances his hand to Taehyung’s inner thigh.

“There we go, now you’ll stay my property until I set you free”, he says and flips Taehyung with a push to his thigh. 

Taehyung rolls over happily, looking up at Jungkook with glassy, devoted eyes. The latter continues caressing his inner thighs studying his cum covered cock and messy stomach. His vampiric face looks back at Taehyung. Black blood covers his chin, neck and parts of his chest.

“This wasn’t the last time I pump into you”, Jungkook says, “got it? The night’s still young and the estate’s empty for another three days. You’re gonna leak my cum for a week once I’m done with you.” 

Taehyung whimpers, nodding his head obediently. 

“Good that you understand.”

Taehyung lowers his eyes.

“You’re a bully.” 

“You get off on it.” 

Taehyung glances at him. Jungkook’s hard expression softens. Humanity returns to his eyes. 

“How are you doing?” he asks him, massaging his waist gently. 

“Ruined. I feel used up.”

“You are. I used you up”, Jungkook says and climbs over Taehyung. He takes the latter’s hands and pins them above his head, looking down at him with warm eyes, “but I own you, so I can do whatever I want with you.” 

“You fed from me.” 

“You always say that I can.” 

“You can”, Taehyung blinks tears away, “I feel your acid fight my healing.” 

“Is it unbearable? I’ll suck it outta you.”

“It’s not. It’s proof.” 

“Proof?”

“Proof that I’m yours. That I’m your possession”, he spills tears, “that you want me.” 

“Tae”, Jungkook returns. The loving, soft-spoken Jungkook returns. He cradles Taehyung’s cheeks and wipes his tears. He kisses his trembling lips and kisses his closed lids until his lips taste nothing but salty tears, “Tae, of course I want you. Tae, come on. Of course I do.”

“I know”, Taehyung whispers and smiles, “I just need to know for myself. I was so scared that you would forget me.”

“You were?”

Their eyes meet, racing between each other as Jungkook keeps caressing his cheeks and Taehyung holds his waist. He is sitting on Taehyung’s stomach, putting weight on it. 

Taehyung nods his head, “I’ve analysed every photograph you sent me. I’ve memorized every face which wasn’t yours. They all look like your type.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “you are my type. Our poly family is my type. Not them. They’re just people who like the same sport as me. You were never in danger.” 

“I wasn’t?” 

“Of course not. Why do you think I came here a week earlier than planned?”

“Because you wanted your bed back?”

“No silly, because I missed you”, Jungkook says, pinching his cheek softly.

“Really?” Taehyung breathes.

“Of course. God Tae, I could never forget you my silly boy”, Jungkook says and begins peppering his face with kisses.

“Really?”

“Of course, my baby. Have you looked at yourself?” 

Taehyung lowers his eyes shyly, “I don’t know.”

Jungkook sits up and clicks his tongue in distaste, looking down at Taehyung with a disapproving gleam in his eyes, “good, now I know where I’m fucking you next.”

Taehyung gawks up at him with parted lips and bated breath.

“In front of the mirror so I can show you all the things I love about you.” 

“Oh”, Taehyung lets out and giggles. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose, chuckling fondly. He pinches Taehyung’s cheek, leaning down to kiss it afterwards.

“You’re cute. I love you, my teddybear.” 

“I love you too, my snugglebunny.” 

The two vampires exchange a giddy look before Jungkook can’t take it anymore. He climbs off of Taehyung for the sole reason of picking him up bridal style. 

“Where are we going?” Taehyung gasps, pressing himself closer instinctively.

“In front of the mirror. We’re continuing. I promise to be gentle this time around.”

“Already?” 

“Got a problem with that?” 

“No”, Taehyung giggles and leans his head onto Jungkook’s shoulder, “no, I don’t.”  

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Chaos and Calm

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1551 Tags: fluff, domesticity, single dads, pre-relationship, outings in the park, feeding the ducks, rain

Notes: For Day 1 of Dreamling Week 2024 as organized by @mr-sadman, for the prompt 'hunt'. Also dedicated to the wonderful @chaosheadspace, whose single-dads AU Castle in the Sand rotates in the back of my head quite often - I meant to have this coincide with your birthday but didn't quite make it, alas.

Summary: Searching for rain boots and meeting friends in the park. No real plot, just meandering domestic parenting vibes.

On AO3

"Robyn! You 'bout ready, kiddo?"

Hob winces at the sound of something heavy thudding on the floor above, and then his son appears at the top of the stairs. "I can't find my boots!"

Hob suppresses the urge to sigh. "Do you remember where you had them last?"

Robyn's brow furrows. "Maybe? They might be in the cupboard? But I think I might have used 'em as astronaut boots and forgot to put 'em back."

"Did you check by the washing machine?"

"Not yet."

"Okay. You keep looking in your room; I'll check down here and then come help you look if I don't find them."

"'Kay." Robyn scrambles back up from where he'd started down the stairs and dashes back to his room, and Hob heads to check the coat cupboard in the front hallway.

They're meant to be meeting Dream and Orpheus at the park in fifteen minutes. The day has turned out to be dreary and grey, light rain off and on keeping it misty and damp and a raincoat plus wellies are definitely called for.

If only he or his son could be relied upon to consistently put things back in their expected places. Ellie had always scolded them about it, gently, and for all the years since she's been gone Hob has kept trying to do better, but it's not always top of his mind and they're both surviving okay, despite the current inconvenience.

He checks the bottom of the coat cupboard; no boots.

He lets the sigh out this time, since Robyn's not there to see the frustration. He checks the utility room next, where last year's too-small snow boots are still sitting next to this year's because Hob hasn't gotten round to dropping them off at the charity shop yet. This year's snow boots will have to do if they can't find the wellies, but he's not giving up yet.

He's not going to tear the house apart looking, either, though; he's eager to get going. Letting Robyn spend time with his best friend is important, but also. Hob really looks forward to seeing Dream, for—well. For lots of reasons, that he's comfortably aware of but cautious about acting on because the kids would be caught in the middle if it didn't work out and that's the last thing he wants. Right now he just wants to let himself enjoy the possibilities. Hanging out, conversations while the kids play, watching Dream's pretty face go soft and expressive as they talk.

So. Best check all the likely spots in this comfortably-cluttered chaos he lives in, then, so they can find the boots and get going. It would certainly be easier if his home was less messy, but he's a single dad with a very active kid, he teaches secondary school, and taking the time to make his home look like a magazine spread is just not on his agenda. And sure sometimes it bites him in the arse, like now, but most times the chaos is of a manageable level and more importantly, it works for them.

Just. Not today, apparently.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, fires off a quick text to Dream.

May be a few minutes late We've a crisis of missing wellies over here Keep you posted

Dream's response comes through almost instantly.

I wish you luck in your hunt, then. We will wait.

Hob smiles, tucks the phone back in his pocket and heads up the stairs to join the search.

Robyn's room is a little bit of a disaster zone, as he's been throwing things around in his haste, and Hob kneels to crawl around the floor and help him look. He'll help him straighten up later, too, but for now they're boot-hunting.

Robyn is a little worried, as it turns out. "What if Orpheus and his dad leave before we get there? What if they think we're not coming because I can't find my stupid boots?"

Hob laughs, a small laugh full of kindness. "They wouldn't," he assures, pulling his kid into a one-armed hug as they sit on the floor. "And besides—I texted Orpheus's dad so they know we're running late." He drops a kiss in Robyn's hair. "Now let's find those blasted wellies so we can get going, yeah?"

The boots are not under the bed, or the desk in the corner; they're not in the toy chest, nor the basket for Robyn's dirty laundry, nor under the laundry that hasn't quite made it into the basket. Hob helps that last category get to where it was meant to be and sits back with a sigh, making a mental note—and hopefully he'll remember later—to be sure to run a load of Robyn's clothes.

"Alright, kiddo, is there anywhere you haven't looked yet?"

Robyn ponders for a moment, face scrunched in thought, and then lights up. "Oh!" He scrambles off the floor and over to the wardrobe, yanks it open. Hob would have thought that would be the first place to check, so he hadn't looked himself but obviously he should have, because Robyn dives into it with a little yell of victory and emerges with a boot held high in either hand and triumph radiating from his grin.

~ They're only a little bit late to the park; Robyn and Orpheus spot each other at the same instant and yell in excited unison, charging across the wet grass and crashing into a hug that also involves a lot of jumping up and down. Hob grins at their enthusiasm, eyes searching beyond them to find Dream looking for him as well; the smile that blooms on Dream's face, visible even at this distance, makes Hob's heart do a pleasant little flop in his chest.

"Your hunt was successful, I see," Dream says, when they are close enough for speaking; they are trailing after the boys, who are cavorting in the general direction of the duck pond, splashing in collected puddles on the path. Dream's got his umbrella up, even though it's not raining right this moment, which somehow just enhances his general goth vibe.

Hob stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, time to do a major cleaning. His room's a bit of a mess but we finally found his wellies in the wardrobe. Which honestly would have been the first place I checked if I'd realized he hadn't. Kid brains work on different logic, I suppose."

"True." Dream shifts a little, casts a glance sideways at Hob. "Robyn is fortunate to have a father so skilled at finding lost items."

"Got a lot of experience misplacing my own crap," Hob offers, laughing to cover the flustery warmth seeping into his chest at Dream's simple compliment. "And he found the boots himself, just needed some help thinking it through."

"As I said. He is fortunate to have your guidance," Dream reiterates, and Hob is saved from having to respond when Robyn comes running back to where the two of them have stopped at the path's edge. Orpheus is over by the pond, bending down to peer between the rails of the short wooden fence that surrounds it as several ducks swim toward him.

"Dad! Did you bring the peas? The ducks're hungry!" There's eager excitement in Robyn's voice and Hob smiles.

"'Course I did, kiddo, here." He rummages in the bag at his hip, slung comfortably across his chest, and hands over the snack-size freezer bag of peas; Robyn thanks him and dashes back over to Orpheus. Whether or not the ducks are 'hungry' is arguable, but Hob won't deny his kid the human joy of personifying the world around him nor of feeding the ducks, which is generally their purpose in coming to this park. He glances sideways at Dream—who is Hob's own private secondary reason for any of the activities they do together with their kids—and finds him watching the boys with the softest little smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

He's so beautiful.

It starts raining, then, just a light misty sprinkle. The boys put up the hoods on their raincoats and carry on tossing peas to the eager birds who've gathered for the feast; Hob is about to dig his own umbrella out of his bag but Dream steps closer and shifts his own broad umbrella over Hob as well. His arm presses up against Hob's, from shoulder to elbow, and Hob swallows the urge to lift his arm and put it around Dream's shoulders, leans solidly into the touch instead. It's nice.

It's so, so nice, and Hob revels in the imagined warmth he can feel seeping into the contact despite the layers between them, the way that seconds turn to minutes and neither of them moves away, how they both watch their boys in comfortable silence. Hob's thoughts and emotions often feel chaotic and jumbled up in the same way his house manages to be a mild-but-functional disaster zone but this—sharing an everyday domestic moment with Dream, the casual unremarked closeness between them—it quiets something in his head, makes anything and everything seem gloriously possible.

This, this is a feeling worth finding, a feeling he did not even realize he was searching for.

He is still entirely grateful to have found it.

= Started: 6/2/24 Drafted: 6/3/24 Posted: 6/3/24

[katsutora]

— DIAL

ft. isagi yoichi ; itoshi rin ; nagi seishiro ; bachira meguru ; itoshi sae

summary: call routine with them

note: i’ve seen some shit bro. being on this hell-site changes you fr. tag system is an absolute bullshit too. i can’t link jackshit. wow too many “shit” mentioned. shit.

⚘ ISAGI YOICHI

ㅤㅤcalls you at a sensible hour if you haven’t agreed on a specific time. he knows your schedule by heart so don’t worry because he won’t bother you in the middle of work, etc. if you do have a call schedule, then he’ll make sure to call at exactly that time. can be very punctual about this and will start seeing everyone as bowling pins once he realizes he’s gonna be a minute late. they don’t call him a STRIKEr for nothing. will listen and rant equally! he always has interesting stories; wbk being in a call with isagi is never boring. also expect his teammates popping up in the background because of course they want to bonk him in the head after running them over know the person who can temporarily turn him into chigiri. ah yes, the furious yelling ambient noise, a classic. “isagi yoichi istg—” “get your ass back in here wtf was that about?!” “you have a competition, princess.” “EVERYONE STFU!!!” never fails to make you giggle. bonus: screenshots you laughing because he adores you sm <3

⚘ ITOSHI RIN

ㅤㅤhe has a routine and you’re in it: three times a day; square meal style. his early calls are short and mostly consist of “good morning”, “have you had breakfast yet”, and “take care”; (borrowing his word) lukewarm shit like that. i love you. even though he usually prefaces his afternoon/evening calls with “i pressed it on accident” (back to back for months straight? yea sure), it’s clearly an excuse because he just wants to hear your voice but his pride isn’t letting him. i love you. it has also recently been brought up to his attention that he can’t seem to sleep peacefully without hearing your voice first. so tell him something, anything, or don’t. he’ll settle with just the comfortable silence after a “hello”. it’s also the only time of the day he’ll say it loud and clear: “i love you”.

⚘ NAGI SEISHIRO

ㅤㅤwhat’s a timezone? it can be in the middle of the day after practice or he can randomly hit you up at 2am after losing yet another round of game. acts out of impulse: when he misses you that’s when he calls you. it’s mostly video calls too! props up his phone so you can see choki his beloved but gets so pouty when you open up the conversation with “how’s choki?” before he can even show you the cactus lmao. “y’re supposed to be asking about me ( ´•︵•` )” he loooves long calls too (re: letting you watch him play without him saying a word whatsoever and no he did not lose track of time + the game after dedicating his next win to you?). is absolutely against ending it unless you really need to go. rip your phone battery.

⚘ BACHIRA MEGURU

ㅤㅤyou’re like an emergency call button but for whenever there’s something crazy going on. his living diary. a breathing, talking, and confused log entry. that being said, he contacts you at least once a day without a fail. well, that’s actually an understatement because he keeps calling then hanging up after telling you one (1) sentence?? “chigiri just ran me over; ok bye!” “my mom painted something inspired by you; later!” “rin-chan just said we’re all lukewarm, boo— ow, ouch!” gotta rely on his teammates to inform you about his well-being because calling him back is no use. “meguru?” “[unintelligible] [intense fighting ensues]” it’s fine, he makes up for it by showing up at your door later in the day. you think it’ll be funny if you close the door as soon as he finishes a sentence? “hi!!” [door closing] “h-wha- you won’t believe what happened today—” [door closing #2] “?? ok so it wasn’t chigiri who ran me over but isag—” imagine doing this after every sentence to teach him a lesson lmfao.

⚘ ITOSHI SAE

ㅤㅤhonestly? in the middle of a fucking interview because man is so unhinged i tell you. “so sae, are you ready for the next match?” ugh, this is so boring. “wait let me ask my s/o.” ??? this is broadcasted live, btw. you think just because he has a tight schedule and it’s nearly impossible to have a free time he won’t call you? he’ll find a way, he always does. likes to call you at the end of the day too and will never lose to the “who can stay awake the longest” game. is more of a listener than a talker, so go ahead and talk his ears off. he doesn’t mind if it’s you + he loves being the last one to end the call, making sure you get some rest (ps: he’s counting on you to wake him up the next day). you’ll receive a call from his manager in the morning saying that he won’t answer his phone and that they’re gonna be late for the next event. “goddamnit sae, not again.”

© 2023 katsutora ; do not repost and/or translate and/or claim my works

[canonicallyobserving911]

Eddie Diaz's "Ghost of a Second Chance"

IMO, in 7x7, Eddie Diaz will have a chance to see or hear how the life he always believed he was "supposed" to have with a wife and kids is not the life he's been WANTING. Based on his heart eyes and the way he's used Chris as a shield for his heart, his ideal life includes a husband (Buck) and their son (Chris).

Be clear, I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE!

I waited to post this because when season 7 started, it was unclear where the show was going to take Eddie's storyline and it appears the redirection of it that happened prior to 7x4 and 7x5 was not the original plan since it's been confirmed via interviews that Eddie was supposed to be with T*mmy instead of Buck. Also, now that it's confirmed Shannon Diaz will make a return in a future season 7 episode as either a ghost or a hallucination or whatever for Eddie, I decided I was ready to post this.

At the end of season 6 when Eddie asked Maris*l out on a date, I thought about the way the narrative has always shown Shannon is the only person who can help Eddie understand Chris doesn't need another mother. He's been carrying the weight and guilt of their relationship around with him for years because he thought him going to the Army broke her when in fact, they were two broken teenagers who were in over their heads and they were so busy trying to mimic the lives they saw Eddie's parents living that they never discussed what either of them wanted out of life.

Unpopular Opinion: Eddie and Shannon were NOT this perfect high school aged Romeo and Juliet type of romantic couple some people keep trying to make them out to be because the truth is they weren't soulmates and they weren't compatible. While it's true they were best friends, they were never on the same page and they didn't know how to communicate. Instead of talking to each other, all they did was argue and have sex but matured relationships consist of more than just sex, hence the 7x5 depiction of Eddie's relationship with Maris*l. They don't know each other and the episode title, "You don't know me" confirmed it.

Full Disclosure: I'm not a Shannon Diaz fan and it has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH BUDDIE! It's strictly because she ABANDONED Chris, her biological son and the fact that she was a teen mother doesn't have anything to do with it because it does NOT excuse her behaviors. Teenage girls who were/are younger than her don't/didn't run out on their kids just because they need/needed time. If she didn't want to be with Eddie anymore that's fine but to leave and not attempt to contact her son for almost two years was NOT ok. She wrote Chris a letter that she wasn't even sure she would send but what happened to a phone call or her sending him a "Hey Chris, I love you and I miss you" email? Even back then there were too many ways she could have contacted him but the CANON FACTS are SHE CHOSE NOT TO. If Eddie wouldn't have called her to interview at Durand she would have stayed gone. Don't get it twisted because she was getting ready to leave Chris again so people should stop romanticizing their relationship and truthfully, so does Eddie. For CANON proof of these claims, all viewers have to do is LISTEN to the things she said to him in 2x17 when they were at the beach and when they were at the restaurant.

Eddie's my favorite character but he's not blameless in any of this either and by his own admission to Buck in 2x10, he left them first. But the difference is he made the DECISION to leave El Paso so he could provide a better life for him and his son even though his toxic mother, Helena (I'm not including Ramon because he had a redemption arc) offered to take Chris from him. He could have left Chris there but HE DIDN'T. He even told Shannon that being Chris' father taught him more about being a man than war ever could.

One last thing, Shannon and Maddie ARE NOT THE SAME! Maddie didn't abandon Jee-Yun, she left because she thought she was a danger to her and she went to get help. She wasn't in Boston galivanting around, shopping and partying like it was 1999, she went to a center for women to figure out what was wrong with her and why she felt like she did then she continued with therapy.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...

While I don't like Shannon's actions, I do believe she's probably the only person who can help Eddie understand that he doesn't have to marry a "woman" to be happy. Why do I believe this? Well, they were best friends and they were married which means she knows things about Eddie that no one else does. She was the first woman he "pulled" away from and since they were separated for a long time while he was in the Army and after she left them, it's likely she figured some things out about what he really wants that neither of them was ready to confront.

Since 2x1, Eddie's story has been told in bits and pieces and while a lot of people romanticized what he had with her, I didn't because they were young and neither one of them knew what they wanted. Did he love her? He said he did but IMO he loved her as much as an 18-year-old could but I don't believe he was in love with her. Did she love him? She said she did but just like him, based solely on her actions, she didn't know what love was either.

Reminder, the only reason Eddie proposed they reconcile in 2x17 was because she thought she was pregnant again. He said he was looking for a sign and he thought her begin pregnant was it but before that he didn't want to do it. If you don't believe it, rewatch 2x17 and LISTEN to the conversation he had with Bobby. Bobby was the one who told him he would be a great dad to a second child but Eddie wasn't so sure. At dinner, when Shannon said, "I'm not pregnant", he paused then responded, "That doesn't change anything" but she rebutted with, "It does for me".

It appears she finally admitted to him that the life they were trying to live was NOT the one either of them wanted but he wasn't ready to admit it. He was using Chris as a shield like he always does and he was hoping her love for their son would be enough for them to reconcile and continue doing whatever they were doing. He said something similar to Ana when he broke up with her in 5x3. He said, "Chris loves you so much" but he never said he did and now he's trying to figure out where Maris*l fits since she babysat twice while he was flying in helicopters going to fight matches in Las Vegas and to karaoke with TK.

Believe it or not, Shannon was getting ready to leave again. If she wasn't then she wouldn't have brought up the letter she wrote to Chris. Also, she said she was still learning how to be someone's mother (notice she didn't say Chris' mother she said someone's) and she said maybe someday, she could learn how to be somebody's wife (not Eddie's wife but somebody's). Furthermore, when they were at the beach, she asked Eddie, "Is that all I am to you, Christopher's mother?" but he responded, "Shannon?" and deflected the conversation. Then she said if that's what it is then it's ok. She proceeded and asked him what he wanted and all he said was "All of this" with a hand wave out towards the ocean. He never admitted what he wanted and it appears the reason was because he didn't want to say.

In 2x7, while they were arguing, Eddie asked her, "What didn't I give you?" and her response was "You!" Therefore, Eddie always kept a piece of himself away from her and she admitted it to him but he wanted it to work probably for the wrong reasons.

REMINDER: In 2x17, Shannon was the one who said they needed to get a DIVORCE! She knew they needed to move on but Eddie was the one who said, "But we're still married". It appears he was the one trying to hold onto the life he believed they were supposed to have and I think it goes back to the example he saw from his parents.

Here's the thing, in 6x16, Eddie admitted he didn't propose to Shannon, he just said, "Let's get married" after they found out she was pregnant. They were best friends in high school and they started an instant family that neither of them were ready for. When she abruptly died, he didn't have a chance to discuss all the things they'd left unsaid. That's why Shannon has to be the one to tell him that it's ok for him to want who he wants. Who's that? BUCK!

Shannon vs. Buck

Please understand the show has illustrated it time and time again that Eddie wants to marry Buck so they can raise Chris together. If that wasn't the case, then Buck wouldn't have been included in Eddie's flashbacks in 3x15 while he was trapped in the well as many times as he was. He was shown with Chris more than anyone else which means Eddie thinks about the life he wants to have with Buck A LOT!

Additionally, in 7x1, Buck, Eddie and Shannon all sat on Chris' bed in the same spot to illustrate how they're his three parents while the babysitter (Maris*l) was nowhere to be found (related post linked here).

Also, Shannon's romantic relationship with Eddie and her parental one with Chris were constantly contrasted with the relationships Eddie and Chris have with Buck and Buck has always been shown to be the perfect match for Eddie. Reminder, he agreed to have Buck's back in 2x1 but Shannon told him in 2x7 that he never had her back.

Eddie needs to HEAR he can move on from the first person he married from someone other than the people who've been saying it to him. Also, in the past, someone's ALWAYS told him what to do regarding his relationships. He was "strongly encouraged" to marry Shannon because he got her pregnant. His parents and Bobby told him it was time to move on from her in season 4 (YES! His parents did too because reminder, they stopped by their house to eat on their way back to L.A. after they left Austin, TX [in the LS crossover episode, Eddie said it to Judd] and two episodes later, in 4x6, Bobby told him he needed to move on). Then in 6x14, Tia Pepa pushed him to start dating again even though he tried to tell her he wasn't ready.

The point of this post is Shannon is probably the ONLY person who can show or tell Eddie that the life he thought they should have had, wouldn't have ever been because there would have always been someone or something that was pulling him away from her the same way it did when they were married 👀.

It appears Shannon will be Eddie's "Ghost of a Second Chance" but the question is, will her reappearance as a ghost or whatever for the second time in season 7 help Eddie admit the person he's in love with is Buck? Only the showrunner, writers and producers know the answer to that question.

[pinkroseblooms]

Usahara Tobikichi in love with f!Reader headcanons (sfw and smutty)

(look at this official art by gaku kaze, why is he so cute/hot?!)

SFW:

Usahara is (to borrow a trope title) a Casanova Wannabe. He likes getting attention from women and wishes he could pull off the playboy persona; the idea of being irresistible to women is a nice daydream, especially considering he seems to be consistently overlooked in comparison to guys like Kumatani and Uramichi

Despite having dated before, relationships never quite seem to work out, whether it be due to Usahara's partners not wanting to stick around after realizing how tactless and irresponsible he is or Usahara stops putting in the effort to keep the relationship afloat. He’s not intentionally mean or careless, but truly good intentions can only make up so much for his flaws.

With all that in mind, Usahara wants a girlfriend; he would take being devoted to one woman over being admired by dozens any day of the week, even if he’s a touch embarrassed to admit it.

In comes you: Usahara thinks you’re cute and immediately tries to get your attention. He doesn’t have high hopes, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to put himself out there. It doesn't take long before Usahara starts going out of his way to talk to you, firing off jokes and one liners at any given time, basically making a fool of himself for a hint of a smile from you. In a short amount of time this casual attraction develops into not so casual, knee buckling, sweaty palms crush. Usahara's heart will shatter into a million pieces if you decide to reject him.

You’re so cute, patient and sweet, being with you just feels right. Every time Usahara sees you that throbbing ache in his chest only gets worse. You’re probably too good for him, he knows it, everyone around Usahara won't stop reminding him when he looks at you with goo goo eyes and insists today's the day: he's going to take that leap and make a move on you. Usahara feels like he hit the literal jackpot when you agreed to go out with him. 

When the two of you begin officially dating, it’s like a light switch clicks in Usahara’s head. Maybe because he’s older and (at least somewhat) wiser, but he’s making genuine efforts this time around to not repeat past mistakes.

When you bring up the issue of his spending habits or taking a joke too far, Usahara will listen and work with you to fix the issue. It’s important to him you know he’s taking this seriously. Usahara wants to have extra money to spoil his girl and the idea of saying something to hurt your feelings gnaws at him. He's determined to be the best boyfriend you've ever had or will have.

He tries so hard for you; Usahara honestly didn’t expect to get so attached. It makes him a bit more reflective, but also paranoid of messing up; he's always been his own worst enemy. For how easy going and chill Usahara comes off as, he's way more insecure than you might guess.

Expect clinging and being spammed with texts at any given moment, maybe a phone call or a silly picture. Now that he has an adorable girlfriend, Usahara jumps at any opportunity to do couple things, go on all the cute dates, call you pet names, buy matching charms for your keys/phones, feed each other, etc. But because he’s so eager and already fairly attached, it can be a bit...much:

“Babyyyy, I had a rough day! 😭 I need cuddles. I’m free after work, can you come over tonight? 😘"

"How's your day going? I wish I could skip work and see you..."

"I miss you xoxo ❤️” 

"Babe, did you get my message? Are you busy?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Hey...are you mad at me?😥"

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spam you.”

“So, should I get food omw home? What are you in the mood for?” "

Besides me lol"

"....babe? Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m sorry, did I forget our 3 week anniversary? Month anniversary?”

"I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

“Baby???”  

And you will get all of these messages over the course of an hour or so. Yes, Usahara does calm down eventually; granted, he'll still spam you with texts now and then even after he feels more secure in the relationship, but usually only when he's out drinking and he wishes he was with you instead.

Usahara keeps things from exes partially if they’re useful and there is a sentimental aspect to it for him; that being said, if it makes you uncomfortable, Usahara doesn’t hesitate to get rid of anything you don't want him to hold on to. You’re with him now, and besides, Usahara needs room for all the things of yours he plans to keep at his place from now on.

And now, for the spicy stuff (and a little smut):

Eager to please is an understatement. 

Seriously though, Usahara struggles to keep his hands to himself, particularly when it’s just you and him. He doesn’t want to come on too strong or too desperate, but he wants you.

He’ll probably try to just go with whatever you’re ready for but if it was up to Usahara, he would never have to use his hand again. Not when he has your soft, warm body to touch and explore.

You’ll definitely need to tell Usahara exactly what you want, because again, he has a hard time going on instinct or reading subtle cues. And honestly, he kind of likes being bossed around in bed.

When you ask him to pleasure you and he gets it right, Usahara gets off on your praise and satisfaction. He’s practically glowing when he first makes you cum and the first time he gets to feel it raw and dripping down his dick makes him almost climax inside you right then and there.

Usahara’s preferred positions are either you riding him while he sits up right and he loses his mind a little when you suck him off. He just can’t get over what you’re doing to him; extra points if you let him cum in your mouth or even just on your face or tits. It’s dirty and you look so beautiful, Usahara can hardly believe you’re real. 

Praise kink aside, Usahara also gets off on soft domination, edging (maybe because he’s so impatient), dirty talk, and costumes, Specifically seeing you with thigh highs and a mini skirt or a too big shirt, with or without panties. 

Talk about fucking like rabbits. Usahara has a high sex drive and would fuck you every day if he could, but he understands you might not always been in the mood. He’s actually happy to just kiss or cuddle, anything to feel you and be close. His favorite thing to do is strip down to nothing and lay over you, head on your chest and hugging you tight while he listens to your heart beat. He’ll still be horny but it can wait. 

“I can’t help it.” Usahara whines, only half teasing as he starts rubbing himself against you, silently begging you to touch him. You have no idea how fast you turn him into a needy mess just by stroking his hair or kissing his neck; he thrives on your attention, he wants to lose himself in you. 

When he’s especially pent up, Usahara acts pussy drunk, doubly so if he’s been putting off the orgasm. Once you finally let him fuck you, your arms around his neck and thighs squeezing his hips, Usahara could cry from how good you feel. He can't believe he gets to be with you like this, that you want him as badly as he needs you.

“So good so good so fucking good, I wanna fuck you all night, gonna cum so hard in your pussy baby. Can I go harder? Pleeeease?”

Drool is trailing down the corner of Usahara’s babbling mouth; he practically melts into your body, head resting in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped tight around you while he fucks you, barely pulling out of your gushing pussy with each sloppy thrust.

“I wanna cum, can I cum inside again? Sorry, I need it, need to fuck you. I can’t stop, fuck, fuck, oh fuck!” Usahara gasps, eyes blown wide as you squeeze around him, not even really meaning to; he hugs you tighter, nuzzling your neck, pressing soft kisses to the love bites he made earlier. It's all you can do to not go utterly limp and just allow him to use you like a living doll. Usahara pants, whines and whimpers like puppy as he mindlessly fucks into you, begging for you to hold him closer and spread your thighs wider. 

“So pretty, so good to me...I love it, love you," Usahara sobs and clings closer, cock is buried as deep as he can go while he rocks his hips. "Baby, I'm really gonna cum, gonna cum, please, wanna cum, I love you so much, baby, can I cum inside? Please? Just one more time, please, please, please!?”

[bopbopstyles]

I JUST WANT A LOVER

RATING: R/smut (graphic sex, alcohol use, cigarettes)

WORD COUNT: 6.8k (i'm getting back in the swing of things, okay!!!! sorry this isn't my normal 20k lmao) (also like 75% smut) (i make no apologies)

CATEGORIES: one night stand!harry

PT. 2 | MASTERLIST | TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

a/n: i know it's been about twelve billion years, but thank you for bearing with me. i had the urge to write some smutty smut, so i did — not sure how consistent i'll be, but i'm back, baby!!!!!

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.” 

“And what do you think?”

“Hmm…” You let your sentence hang while you figured out what to say, your tipsy brain scrambling for something flirty but not too weird. “Decent, but concerned you won’t be able to take it without a chaser.”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

His arm brushed against your side, and you tried to not pay attention to it too much. It was taking every fiber of your body not to freak out and overthink this, because this was the first man since your ex to flirt with you in a bar—or even come up to you in a bar— and he was hotter than your ex by a landslide. Which was both flattering and also frightening. “I won’t let you follow me to the dance floor,” you answer him, plucking what little courage you had and employing it, praying it didn’t fall flat. 

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing yours to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

or

Y/N is newly single and Harry's really into her

You’d come out at the request of your best friend, but to be honest it didn’t take much to get you out there these days. The breakup with your ex had occurred a month and a half ago and since then you decided you were done being sad, and wanted to have fun. Fun that you hadn’t had in months. Fun with your best friends in the smallest amount of clothing you could get away with, and lips lined in a deep mauve that always made you feel like the baddest bitch in the room. 

It was working too. You could feel your confidence and happiness creeping back piece by piece, every time you were dancing in a bar, screaming lyrics to your favorite songs and sweat slipping down your back, you felt one step closer to the person you remembered being. A person you had loved being too—full of life, the person people called when they wanted to have a fun night, the host of many a party, the best dance partner, and the perfect person for a heart to heart over pizza at the end of the night. 

“I missed this!” Your friend Abbey said when you’d walked into her apartment with a bottle of gin earlier that night. She swept you into a giant hug and you couldn’t help but smile. “Like, I know I’ve seen you recently, but I missed going out with you—missed being happy with you.”

“I missed it too,” you’d replied, and meant it. 

Now you were in your favorite bar in the Lower East Side, waiting impatiently at the bar amidst the many other patrons, tapping your phone on the counter to keep your mind busy. The combination of old Britney Spears songs pounding through the stereo and the rush of alcohol in your bloodstream made you full of joy, and a little more wild than usual. 

“Gin and tonic and a fireball shot,” you requested, and he nodded before turning around.

“Fireball, huh?” The voice was deep and smooth, and you couldn’t help but turn around to discover who the owner was. He was tall, at least six foot, with dark brown hair and light green eyes, tattoos littering his arms. There was a ghost of stubble on his jaw, which only made it looked more chiseled. 

He was so fucking hot it seemed unnatural. “Yeah,” you replied. “Feel like being a little crazy tonight.”

His lips curled up at the corners at that, and he took a step toward you. “Sounds like fun.” He raised his finger, grabbing the bartender’s attention, and requested a shot as well.

You took his distraction as an opportunity to study his side profile. His hair curled slightly around his ear, and his nose curved up ever so slightly at the end. There was a dash of freckles on his cheeks that you could barely make out in the low lighting. As your eyes traveled down to his clothing, you decided that he was ripped—his arm muscles bulged ever so slightly in a delicious way. He was so attractive it felt illegal to even be looking at him, much less talking to him. And having a drink with him, apparently. 

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.” 

“And what do you think?”

“Hmm…” You let your sentence hang while you figured out what to say, your tipsy brain scrambling for something flirty but not too weird. “Decent, but concerned you won’t be able to take it without a chaser.”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

His arm brushed against your side, and you tried to not pay attention to it too much. It was taking every fiber of your body not to freak out and overthink this, because this was the first man since your ex to flirt with you in a bar—or even come up to you in a bar— and he was hotter than your ex by a landslide. Which was both flattering and also frightening. “I won’t let you follow me to the dance floor,” you answer him, plucking what little courage you had and employing it, praying it didn’t fall flat. 

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing your to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

“Deal,” he replied. The two of you bumped glasses, tapped them on the bar, and threw them back, the alcohol burning your throat. You watched as he, much to your excitement, didn’t struggle with the shot in the slightest. He just set the glass back on the bar and found your eyes. “Looks like we’re dancing, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment lit up your spine, and you tried to not smile too widely. The bartender came over and asked if it was on a tab or closed, and the man told him to put it on his tab without a beat—and that’s when you got his last name. Styles. Sexy, frankly. 

He turned back to you and nodded toward the back of the bar. “Lead the way.”

The Motto by Drake was blasting through the speakers and this was the tenth song you two had been dancing to. Your gin and tonic was nearly empty, and your right hand was thrown around Harry’s neck—that was his name. Harry. It was said in your ear with his lips far too close to your skin for you to not fantasize about how they would feel on the rest of your body, the melt of his accent curling around you like a fire. His hands were on your hips, fingers curved around you so he could move with you with ease, and the two of your alternated between staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity it made you have to resist the desire to kiss him every time, and the bar around you. 

Your back was sweaty from the heat of the dance floor, but the backless shirt you were wearing meant the material wasn’t sticking to your skin. Harry had informed you about a minute ago that the shirt was “one of the hottest things he’d ever seen” and that had made you smile coyly, or at least you’d hoped it was coy. You were enjoying the way his skin felt on yours, the press of his fingers, the warmth of his breath on your cheek. 

It had been a while since you’d done this—let yourself flirt with a stranger, bask in the excitement of someone’s desire—and it felt so damn good. You dropped your head back, letting your hair fall backward, singing the lyrics you knew by heart. As you did it, you felt the tightening of Harry’s fingers on your waist, and you smiled to yourself. In return, you wrapped your fingers in the bit of hair at the nape of his neck, scratching ever so slightly. This made Harry’s grip tighten again, and you liked knowing that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you. 

You let your head fall forward, gaze meeting his. It was burning into you, his eyes gliding from your face down your body to the rise of your breasts. The pressure of it, of his interest and desire, felt good, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a deep need to kiss him. The prospect of touching your lips to his, which looked so plush and inviting, a dark pink that looked far too kissable. The need burned at your chest, and you decided there was no reason not to give in. Tonight, you decided, you were saying yes to things that made you a bit nervous, and seeing what happened. So, you pressed your torso flat against his and leaned your head back, tugging at his with your fingers so your mouths met in harmony. 

It was like all he waiting for was permission, because the minute your lips touched he moved, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you even closer, the other moving upward, his hand cupping your throat gently. His lips were soft and plush, just like you’d hoped. You loved how they moved against yours with obvious desire, begging and pleading with you through the kiss. When he brushed his finger along the column of your neck, you let your tongue dart out, brushing against his lips, which he parted for you, and you swept into his mouth, finding his tongue. 

The kiss was messy and needy and exhilarating. From the press of his lips and the way they parted and pulled at yours, to his arm that was locked around your waist, fingers pressing int your skin, or the hand that was splayed at your neck, his fingers curled int your hair and the base of his palm on your throat.

It was, in all honesty, how you’d been wanting to be kissed for months. With desire, to feel needed and craved by another. It set your body on fire, and made you throw any apprehension you had to the wind. 

“Air,” you mumbled, pulling your mouth away. “I need air. And a cigarette.” 

He just smiled, nodding gently, and then threaded his fingers in yours, tugging you through the crowd. You hadn’t necessarily invited him to follow you outside, but you hoped he would get the hint—and he did, thankfully. There was a door in the back of the bar, a security guard standing next to it. Harry nodded at him, pointing at the door, and the guard pushed it open. It led to an alley, which had some other people down the way, but this section was empty. Perfectly, beautifully empty. 

It was quiet outside, the thrum of the bass from the music inside seeping out, and the honk of taxi cabs melding into the perfect sound of New York at nighttime. You leaned against the rough brick of the building, the bare skin of your back cooling against the brick, which felt glorious. 

“Cigarette?” You asked, reaching into your purse to pull out your pack and lighter. 

“Sure,” he answered. “But I only need half of one.”

“Share one with me then.” 

He smiled, and nodded. You placed the cigarette between your lips and lifted the lighter, flicking it so the flame appeared, lighting the end. You took a deep inhale, holding the cigarette in your teeth lightly as you exhaled out the sides of your mouth around it, placing the lighter back in your purse. Then, you took the cigarette from your mouth and offered it to Harry. 

There was something so erotic about watching him smoke the same cigarette that had just been in your mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at his mouth curved around it, the smoke leaking from his mouth as he exhaled. You wondered if he thought the same when he watched you smoke. 

“So,” you said as you held the cigarette between your fingers after taking a puff. “What’s your story, Harry?”

He stepped forward and pressed his hand to the brick at the side of your head, before leaning in and wrapping his lips around the edge of the cigarette that you still held between your fingers and taking another inhale. “I work in a record store and record some music on the side. Live a couple blocks from here with my friend Michael. Moved here a couple years ago.” He nodded to you. “And you?”

“Live in the village, work in marketing like everyone else,” that made him chuckle. “And have been here for three years.” 

“Like it?” He asked, and you nodded. 

“I do. I don’t think it’s forever, but I doubt that’s surprising. But I can’t imagine living anywhere else right now.”

He took another inhale of the cigarette before agreeing. “I know what you mean.”

“Are you here with friends?”

He nodded. “My roommate and some other people.”

“Will they miss you?” 

That earned you a smile, and a shake of his head. “Why, what do you have in mind?”

The cigarette, shot, and gin and tonic are fueling your confidence because you pressed towards him and whispered in his ear, “your bed, preferably.”

He looked at you for a beat and then pressed his lips to yours, his free hand that isn’t touching the brick wrapping around your waist and tugging you toward him. It was a fight for dominance, this kiss—heated in a way the other one hadn’t been. It was full of desire and need and curiosity, that curiosity of finding someone new and leaning what they like and how they like it. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, and that sound made Harry press himself into you, his erection obvious against the material of your skirt. It made you wrap your hand holding the cigarette around his neck, making sure to not singe his beautiful curls, and curl your other hand in the waistband of his jeans.

Your finger brushed against a sliver of skin above his boxers and below the hem of his shirt, and you heard the sharp inhale of air he took in as you did it, pressing firmly against you and deepening the kiss. You wanted him in a way that you’d forgotten how to feel, and it lit up your whole body, making you absolutely uninterested in pretending you weren’t incredibly into him. You tugged his lip between your teeth and sucked gently, before licking across it. He responded by tucking his chin and brushing a series of kisses down your neck, pulling and nipping at the skin in a way that had you digging your fingers into his skin. 

“Can we go,” you said, more a statement than a question in the way the words tumbled from your mouth. You couldn’t do this much longer or you’d end up begging him to fuck you in the bathroom of this bar. 

“Fuck yes,” he answered, placing a searing kiss on your lips. “Need to say goodbye to my friends and close out the tab. Meet me at the bar?”

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside to say your goodbyes. You found your friends, explaining the situation in excited tones, and kissed them all goodbye on the cheek, promising to text the address you ended up at. And then you went in search of Harry, easily finding his mop of curls poking out amongst the people at the bar. You headed right for him, and when he caught sight of you he reached out for you, tucking you into his side, his arm around your waist.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled into your hair after he signed his name on the receipt, and you followed him out of the bar and into the night. 

He kicked his bedroom door shut and walked to you in two paces, tugging you to him. Your lips met messily, all the pent-up tension from the evening and the walk here coming to a head. You decided to not mess around—you wanted to feel his skin desperately. The buttons of his shirt, a soft silk that was sweaty in the best way, came unbuttoned with ease, and you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, exposing his skin. It was tan and scattered with so many tattoos that you wanted to explore, but didn’t feel like you had enough time. 

“I love your tattoos,” you said, your voice cutting through the sexual tension and silence in the room. Your fingers brushed across the swallows on his chest, and you saw his muscles tighten at the touch. 

He didn’t acknowledge your statement. Instead, he was too busy staring at you. “Y/N,” he said, breathlessly, “can I take this off?” His fingers were playing with the hem of your shirt, and you nodded with ease. The material was pulled over your head in mere seconds, leaving you in just your skirt and boots. His fingers were on your skin immediately, cupping your breasts, lips brushing along the slope of your shoulder as he pulled on your nipples.

Your head fell back, a quiet “fuck” leaving your lips as his fingers moved across your skin, leaving a searing fire in their wake. He took advantage of the space, sucking on the skin at the base of your neck, nipping and pulling and you threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged gently. “Bed,” you exhaled, and he nodded, walking you backward until you fell onto the mattress. 

He leaned back and unzipped your boots for you, dropping them to the floor and then removing his own shoes. You pulled on the clasp of his belt, freeing it from his jeans, and then popped the button, pulling down the zipper. The thought crossed your mind that he was the first man you’d undressed since your ex, but you didn’t let the thought linger for too long. Instead, you busied your mind by pushing down his jeans and tugging him on top of you, finding solace in his lips. 

The kiss he gave you was deep and full of need, and you drank it in, loving each second that it held you. His fingers tugged on the zipper of your skirt and you wriggled to let him free you from it, leaving you both in just your underwear. You moved up the bed, pulling him with you, and tugged him down on top of you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him in, your centers meeting and both of you let out a moan. Hooking up with someone new was always an interesting experience, that edge of apprehension and unsuredness, but this was feeling more and more comfortable by the second for you. Maybe it was the way his fingers felt on your skin, the way he didn’t stop touching some inch of you. Or the kisses he placed on your lips and then your skin, or the way his breathing hitched when you rolled your hips. 

He was hard against you and you loved how it felt, how the friction felt against you. His tip was nudging at your clit through your underwear and you could feel how wet you were getting, and you wondered if he could tell too. You hadn’t done any of this in a little while, but you wanted him. Craved him in a way you hadn’t lately, and you wanted more. Wanted to feel the weight of him on your tongue and the press of him against you, that glorious feeling of being held by someone and the crash of an orgasm that exhausted your bones in a way nothing else did. How it made the world slip away for a second. 

“Can you roll over?” You asked, nosing gently at his jaw. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” he answered, flopping onto his back. You were on him in seconds, straddling his waist and swiveling your hips in a slow, tantalizing circle that had his hands reaching the curve of your waist. The pressure made you grind into him deeper and the moan that fell from his lips was intoxicating. You didn’t know how much more of him you could take, the pressure just building and building and building inside of you every time he kissed another inch of your skin. 

Harry was fucking obsessed with you. This random girl he’d found at the bar who he couldn’t stop staring at. The curtain of your hair that fell around him as you bent forward and scattered kisses down his torso, making him inhale sharply, the feeling surprising in all the right ways. His fingers were pressed into your waist and he let them drop to your thighs, enjoying the softness of your skin and how he could grip them and pull ever so slightly to make your hips move over his cock, the friction feeling heavenly.

He needed you in every way, and he was simply wondering what you would be willing to give him because at this rate he would take any scrap or morsel of you. 

And that’s when you suddenly shuffled backward and hovered over his thighs, lips ghosting downward to the top of his underwear. Fuck, you were going to go down on him. Would he survive? He wasn’t sure. 

He lifted his hips and let you tug down his underwear, the sweetness of the kiss you placed on his hip bone catching him off guard. Harry lifted up onto his elbows so he could watch you as your fingers brushed along the length of him. 

“You’re pretty,” you said, words dancing across his skin like another one of his tattoos. 

“Yeah?” He answered, fingers winding through your hair. “Think I’m pretty, angel?”

You giggled—fucking giggled—and it set him on fire. “Very,” you informed him. Then, you ran your tongue up the length of him and swirled your tongue around his tip, the sight making Harry drop his head back and moan again. It felt so good, the warmth of your mouth and the caress of your tongue, the way you were delicate yet intense. 

“More,” he mumbled, “please, Y/N.”

You didn’t hesitate before spitting on the length of him and rubbing your hand up and down, creating a ruthless pace that had him panting, circling your tongue over his tip repeatedly, making every inch of his cock light on fire. Then, you dropped your hand to his balls and gently rolled them as you took him in your mouth, and that’s when Harry looked back at you, not wanting to miss this moment. 

Your eyes were on him, watching his response to your actions as you sunk lower and lower on his cock. When his tip bumped the back of your throat he groaned, and it took every inch of his willpower not to buck his hips at the sensation. And then you pulled back a bit, and then back down, creating a rhythm, your lips wrapped around him, tongue gently licking stripes up the underside of him as you worked. 

It was heaven, your mouth. He hadn’t been with someone in a while, and you were unexpected but oh so perfect. He couldn’t stop looking at you, at the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth over and over again, the sight of your eyes watering ever so slightly when you took him particularly deep, the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. You were fucking drooling over him. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

When you pulled back and swirled your tongue over his tip and then sucked, he couldn’t hold back—he bucked his hips ever so slightly into your mouth. “Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled. But you just nodded, widening your lips and stilling where you hovered. 

His eyes about rolled back in his head. 

“You want me to fuck your mouth, angel?” You nodded, and Harry didn’t waste another second. 

He curled his fingers through your hair and pressed his hips up, using your mouth and you let him. You even moaned at one point when his tip brushed the back of your throat. It was like you loved this, loved the feeling of him using your mouth, and that made him even more intrigued by you. When you started sucking on his tip when he pulled back, he decided he couldn’t take this anymore—he was going to come if he didn’t stop. 

“Gotta stop,” he said, pulling your head off him. “Gonna come if I don’t.”

You looked up at him and smiled, before wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Liked how you felt,” you mumbled, crawling up his body toward him. He grasped your hips in his hands, and looked up at you, catching your eyes and smiling. 

“Liked it too,” he said. “Come ‘ere.” You lowered your mouth and kissed him, lips intertwining perfectly. Then you started grinding back and forth on his cock, and Harry realized how wet you were through your underwear—fucking dripping, in fact. “Roll over for me,” he requested, and you did as he said with ease. 

He hovered over you and fingered the waistband of your underwear. “Please,” you mumbled, and he smiled, before pulling the material off with ease. You were, in fact, glistening with arousal and Harry loved the sight. He pressed a kiss to your knee and began to bend down because he wanted desperately to go down on you, but you started shaking your head back and forth. “No,” you said, “Want you to fuck me. Please.” 

The please got Harry. “Yeah?” You nodded, and Harry moved closer to you, letting your legs fall to either side of him. “Wanted to go down on you, but I guess that’ll have to wait.”

Your hands swept up his sides, brushing along the tattoos that rested there. Harry pulled away just enough to reach his bedside table, grabbing a condom. Quickly, he ripped open the package and rolled it on himself, pumping gently, eyes glancing over your body spread out in front of him. Your breasts, perfectly large in all the ways he loved, the curve of your waist and the skin he was deeply enjoying holding onto, your gentle but wildly talented hands, the soft waves of your hair that smelled far too delicious to not bury his face in. It was like you were out of a dream. 

“Harry,” you said, hand reaching for his thigh and tugging gently. “Please.”

The begging really did it for Harry—he hated to admit it, but he fucking loved it when girls begged for him. Made him feel so wanted, so desired, so needed, which is exactly what he craved from sex. “Coming, I promise, love.” He rose up on his knees and nudged your thighs a little farther apart with his own, creating space for himself. Leaning over you, he caught your eyes as he nudged your entrance gently. He knew he was big, and he didn’t want to assume it wouldn’t hurt, so he was going to watch your expression to see how it felt. 

And what he saw made him keen. The way your eyelids drooped ever so slightly, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. Then, he felt your hips brush down a bit, slipping more of his cock inside of you, and a gentle moan slip from your lips. “More,” you requested, hand winding around his bicep and gripping him.

Harry didn’t make you wait a second longer, he pushed forward, watching your eyes to make sure it didn’t hurt, and it never did. You just shut your eyes and your mouth dropped open, no sound coming out. You felt like heaven—wet and warm and snug, and Harry remembered why he absolutely fucking loved sex. 

He pulled out slowly, and when you tugged slightly on his arm, as if to say Hurry up, he answered with a swift thrust in, groaning at the way your walls gripped him. You answered with a moan of your own, the words, “Feels so fucking good,” falling from your lips. 

That spurred him forward, and he built up a rhythm that was brutal in pace. You liked it hard, that was obvious, and Harry happened to love it too. He had missed sex and this pace was dizzying in all the right ways. The feeling of your thighs wrapped around his waist, keeping his hips close, and the sight of your breasts bouncing as he fucked you was too much for his brain to process. He couldn’t figure out what to watch. The sight of his cock entering you (which he really liked looking at) or your breasts, or your stomach which he for some reason had the desire to bite gently, the skin stretched there tantalizing. Your face was a dream too—the way you looked at him with desire and need and pleasure so obvious, the moans that left your mouth without a filter, not caring in the slightest who heard. 

Harry grabbed your thighs, tugging them up so your hips lifted off the bed and thrust in, hitting a deeper spot that made his head spin—and yours. 

You were losing your fucking mind at this sex. He was fucking you like, truly, no man had fucked you before. Full of power and need and dominance in all the ways you loved. The feeling of his eyes on your skin had your body on fire, and that mixed with the way his cock was stretching you out just had your brain melting away. You couldn’t decide on what to pay attention to, but currently his tattoos and the ripple of his biceps was enticing you. The black ink made you curious, and you wondered if you asked if he would tell you their stories. 

His hands slipped to hold your hips, pulling you in toward him, fucking you onto him and it made your eyes roll back, a heavy groan ripping from your throat. Missionary, you decided, was underrated. Harry knew how to fuck someone in missionary good, and you wanted it again and again and again. With your ex, you always craved the variety of positions as something to keep you engaged, but right now you had no desire to change your position. All you wanted was more intensity, more pressure, just more. 

“More,” you begged, squeezing his arm.

Harry responded with a smile, and then he lowered your hips before rotating them to the left, your right leg draping over your left. He shifted behind you ever so slightly, nudging his cock back inside of you, and you gasped at the depth of the position. You could feel him in your fucking stomach it felt like, and it made you scrabble for his skin, gripping the forearm connected to the hand that was holding your hip as he fucked you. “Good?” He asked, hair falling into his eyes as he bent forward slightly, using the leverage to fuck you harder, driving into you at a brutal but delicious pace. 

“So…fuck…good,” you answered, words a struggle in this position. You were so wet and your abdomen was tightening, a clear sign that your orgasm was rising inside of you. That wasn’t something that surprised you, though—you’d always been someone who came with ease, especially in intense sex. So you let it build, let your walls tighten and spasm around Harry. 

It had Harry’s grip tightening. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him was a clear sign your orgasm was building, and Harry couldn’t wait to feel it. He wanted to watch you come, to know that he was the reason why. He still had plenty of stamina left—he’d always had plenty of energy when it came to sex—so he decided after you came if you still wanted to have sex, he would happily keep going. 

“Fuckkk,” you let out, head dropping back and eyes shutting, hair spread all over his duvet. It was a gorgeous sight, and Harry drove into you faster, the sight of your tongue slipping out onto your lip spurring him on. Then he felt it, the way your walls clamped down tightly and the grip you had on his wrist tighten significantly. You were dripping all over him, and it felt so fucking good that he knew he needed to pause for a second, so he pulled out, turning you back onto your back gently. 

Your eyes opened and found his with a smile. “Good?” He asked, and you nodded. “Want more?” 

“Hell yes,” you answered, and he chuckled. 

Then he dropped down, ducking his mouth to your waiting pussy, the sight of your wetness smeared all over your skin and the smell of your come filling his sense. He licked over your exposed skin, picking it all up with his tongue, and you moaned, obviously sensitive. But instead of stopping him, your hands found his hair and pulled him in closer, making his nose nudge against your clit. You were so. fucking. hot. 

He went to town on you, licking inside and then over your clit, which he discovered you particularly liked. He worked his tongue in circles that had your head thrashing, mouth dropped open in a moan, hands a death grip on his hair. Thankfully, he’d always had a thing for that. When he pushed a finger inside of you at your request, that made your eyes roll back, and he fucked you with his fingers, first one and then two. He found your g-spot with relative ease, brushing against it and taking joy in the way your thighs tightened around his head. 

Going down on you was so fun; like a new mystery he was taking deep joy in discovering all the secrets of. 

You didn’t let that go on for too long, though, pulling on his hair with desperation after he’d been fucking you with his fingers particularly fast. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop, and I’d really like you inside of me again,” you said, and that made him stop immediately. He was not going to miss that opportunity.

He dropped your thighs from where he’d been holding them and moved back to his old spot between your thighs. He spit into his hand and ran it up and down his cock, getting ready to be back inside of you. To his joy, he got to watch your fingers slip down to your clit, brushing in a circle that made your hips buck up towards him. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he pushed back into you. Somehow, you were even tighter—likely from being close and having adjusted to his fingers. It felt glorious, and he wasted no time finding a brutal rhythm. He tugged at your legs, pulling them up, so your calves draped over his shoulder, which made you scramble for skin. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Harry,” you moaned as he thrust into you, hands reaching for his collarbone. 

He was close too, the sight of you on the edge and this feeling dizzying him. “I’m close,” he mumbled, and he watched you force your eyes open.

“I think—fuck—I think I might squirt. Is that, shit, is that okay?” The way you stumbled over your words made him smile, and so did what you said. It was a treat, something he’d never expected, but holy hell did he want. 

“Fuck yes it is,” he answered, bending forward slightly so your thighs strained. “What do you need?”

“Fingers,” you replied. “On my clit. And a towel below me if you don’t mind your duvet getting wet.”

The prospect of leaving your pussy sounded downright unfathomable, so Harry decided he didn’t give a single shit about the state of his bed. He had plenty of blankets. Who cared about a duvet. “It’s fine,” he told you. Then, he reached between your legs and brushed his fingers over your clit, which made your pussy tighten immediately and your hips buck.

It was like you couldn’t control yourself, the way your hips moved. Harry had to stay incredibly close, so he didn’t slip out, but he didn’t mind. He loved how you felt around him, all consuming and deliciously wet. He wanted to see you squirt more than anything, so he was staving off his orgasm until after you finished, but the effort was torture. The distraction of rubbing your clit was helping, but he didn’t know how much longer he could last. 

“Gonna come for me, love?” He mumbled, words tumbling from his fucked out brain. “Wanna see you squirt all over me.”

That, it seemed like, did the trick. Your walls tightened immediately, and Harry felt the rush of your orgasm immediately, coating his lower body in wet. The sight of it, mixed with the load moans spilling from your mouth and the sight of your hand gripping your breast, pulling taut on the skin did it for him. It put him over the edge, and he stuttered, his pace faltering as he came into the condom, gripping your thighs as he rode his finish, the feeling of your squirt making his finish even more intense than usual. 

Panting, he gently pulled out of you, letting your thighs fall to the side. “Holy shit,” he said, chest heaving. 

You laughed gently, hand dropping to the bed. “Holy shit is right.”

He looked down at your pussy, where a large area around it was wet from you squirting. Harry had only had one girl squirt on him before, and it had been a while ago, so he’d forgotten what it felt like. And how much he fucking loved it. “That was insane.” He looked up at you. “You doing okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little sticky.”

He laughed. “Want to take a shower?” 

“Please,” you answered. He reached his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him help you up. When you got to sitting, he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose. The gesture made your heart warm, especially after how vulnerable you’d been with him. You hadn’t done that with every guy you’d been with, and you weren’t fully sure why you trusted him with it, but you were happy you did. Your mind was floaty, drained from most thoughts, and your body felt light in all the right ways. 

He led you to the shower, turning on the hot water for you and pointing to where the fresh towels and soap were. “Going to change the sheets,” he said, giving you a kiss on the lips before leaving you to it. 

You stood under the shower, letting the warm water fall on your skin. It brought you back into your body. You used the soap and washed up, cleaning all the aftermath of sex from your skin. Then, you stepped out, grabbing a fresh towel, and sat on the toilet to pee, before heading back to his room.

The bed was freshly made, the wet duvet gone from sight. Harry was still naked, tucking a blanket onto the bed when you walked in. “Feel better?”

“Perfect,” you answered. “Thanks for letting me do that.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m going to take one myself—help yourself to anything you need.”

He patted down the hall, leaving you alone in his room. It was fun to be left alone in a boy’s room, allowing you to snoop just a bit. You explored the framed photos on his dresser and bedside table, finding out he had a sister, and found some photos of him and some friends, boys you thought might be his roommates. His cologne sat on the dresser, and you made a mental note of the brand and scent name, deciding that you’d make the next boyfriend you had wear it because you loved the way Harry smelled. 

A book you’d never read before sat on the bedside table and you picked it up, curious. You were reading the inside flap when Harry re-entered the room, causing you to look up. “It’s good,” he said. “The book.”

“Good to know.”

“So.” He pushed the door shut and gestured to the bed. “You’re welcome to stay the night—it’s pretty late. But if you want to head home that’s totally fine too, happy to call you an Uber. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He was sweet, you decided. That much was clear, from the way his green eyes gleamed with honesty. Sometimes guys would say all that just as a way to pressure you to leave, but this time you truly felt like he didn’t mind either way. “I’ll stay if you’re okay with it.”

Harry smiled at you, and you knew you’d made the right decision. You weren’t quite ready for the night to end, and you didn’t really feel like putting on your clothes and sitting in a stranger’s car right now. “Of course—need something to sleep in?”

“I, uh, usually sleep naked,” you said. 

That made Harry split a wide grin. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

You returned his smile, and as the two of you got into his bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. If this was just a random hookup or maybe turn into a multiple time thing. Because honestly, you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. You were even curious what this boy was like during the daytime, if you were completed truthful with yourself. And as you laid on his pillows and he asked you questions about your life, seeming to be genuinely interested, you couldn’t help wonder if maybe he felt the same way. 

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