#and god is it really his fault that he was created this way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yinyuedijun · 3 months ago

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TRUST FALL | asakura shin x f!reader

Shin is a painfully vanilla guy but tries his best to let you live out your kinky fantasies. You have a breakdown when you try to indulge his very normal one. (Or: 3 times Shin humoured your kinks + 1 time you humoured his.)

11.5k words, sequel to situationship. nsft tags: fingering with the power glove, free use, somnophilia, domesticity kink + breeding kink. all sex is consensual (sometimes veers into cnc territory, shin relies on esp to obtain consent), none of it is rough or mean. toward the end of the fic, the narrative focuses on anxieties and/or desires about starting a family. chapter 203 spoilers. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

IMPORTANT: the reader is hypersexual due to off-screen sexual trauma, which is not explicitly described, but is discussed. there is also one non-graphic nightmare related to this trauma that turns into a horny dream about shin (lol). 20% of this fic is a psychosexually strange healing narrative, 80% of it is just silly porn.

Sometimes, Shin is glad that he can hear all your thoughts.

Mind you, it's not like he doesn't want to give you some privacy. God knows he's tried a million times to tune out your internal monologue the way he can normally do with other people, and god knows you’ve tried your hardest to imitate the cognitive trick that Nagumo does to keep his mind hidden away from Shin. The reality is, though, that your feelings always overpower any psychological barrier that the two of you attempt to create. Your thoughts are always too loud for him to ignore, usually because you're either too happy or too horny around him to keep them quiet. Apparently Shin has that effect on you.

But often he doesn't mind it. It’s sometimes even convenient. Helpful for all the stuff that you want to do in bed, for example.

Now, Shin’s known from Day 1 that you're kind of a freak. He’s seen enough of your psyche to understand the exact nature of your sexual fantasies, and on the day that you became an official couple, he went home and googled how you're supposed to have safe, sane, and consensual sex with a person who dreams of doing the exact opposite of that. Although Shin is himself a strictly vanilla guy, and the two of you were already having perfectly nasty vanilla sex that was satisfying you—he likes you a lot. He wants to treat you right, give you nice things. This includes everything from flowers to chocolates to exciting orgasms for the rest of your life, even if it means he’ll need to get a little freaky about it.

Shin’s since ended up learning a lot about BDSM, and he’s also ended up trying a lot of basic BDSM practices that don't really work on you. You are shockingly bad at enforcing your boundaries. You always get too horny to remember your safeword (Resident Evil—you chose it yourself), find it too much work to use nonverbal cues, and you dry up whenever he tries to use the traffic light system.

“It doesn't matter,” you once whined at him, “it’s not like I’d ever not wanna have sex! You can do whatever you want to me.” Which was an insane thing to say, and exactly why Shin feels like you should know how to use a safeword. But when he tried to explain this to you, you’d crawled into his lap and begged him to fuck you anyway. His dick got so hard that he could only say yes, though he first made you understand that it would be regular sex, not the stuckage roleplay you'd been asking him to try.

Regular sex. You're only supposed to be having regular sex.

There is no reason why you should be in tears right now, desperately trying to stop yourself from cumming on Shin’s fingers—and all over his power glove.

This is mostly your fault. Mostly. Ever since seeing Shin nearly kill someone using the thing, you've fantasised about him having it on in bed. Specifically, you’ve fantasised about him wearing it while his fingers are knuckle-deep in your dripping pussy. Shin wasn't ever planning on humouring those daydreams, but, well. He likes you a lot. He wants to give you nice things. If you want to have a mind-blowing orgasm while you're grinding your clit against the power glove, he'll let you—on the condition that you don't ruin it.

You've been having a lot of difficulty fulfilling this condition.

You're breathless, broken. Face tight from the effort of holding back your orgasm for so long. You’ve cum nearly twice now, and only didn't because Shin decided not to force it. Not yet, anyway. He admits he's being a little mean: every time he curls his fingers and rubs your sweet spot, he feels your cunt drip for him and he can’t help but do it more. The tears pearling up at the corners of your eyes and the way you're trying to squirm away from his hand would ordinarily make him stop—even make him worry—but then he hears you thinking, right there, right there, feels so good Shin you make me feel so good do that again, and then of course he has to comply.

“Shin,” you whimper, “I’ll cum if you don't stop that.”

You try to pull away again, hips jerking back from his touch, but your pussy is begging for him—tight and wet and greedy for more. His fingers are soaked, as is the black steel encasing his palm. Part of Shin feels like the glove has already been ruined; the rest of him is too horny to care. Completely unrepentant, his thumb rubs gentle circles into your clit, and he feels his cock throb at the noise you make.

“Shin,” you whine, “don't.”

He glances up at you. “You want me to stop using my fingers?”

No. You bite your lip. Pretend to look distressed. “I… I’ll make a mess if you don't.”

“I'll slow down,” he promises, and when he eases the pressure on your g-spot, your inner disappointment is so loud that he knows what he should do next.

When Shin lowers his face between your legs and pushes your thighs open with his free hand, you squeal.

“Shin!”

“What? I’m not using my fingers. Should be fine, right?” He doesn't need to wait for a response—he already knows what you're thinking—so he leans down and puts his mouth on you the way he's been wanting the whole night.

You whine when you feel his tongue on your clit. Clench immediately around his fingers—more Shin please I want more please touch me the way I like, you know where—so he curls them again, and the way you cry makes him want nothing more than to get on top of you and fuck you properly.

But that's not how you want to cum. You don't want to cum on his cock; you want to finish on his fingers, soak the sheets, and probably ruin Natsuki’s day with a repair call. So Shin closes his eyes and starts sucking at your clit, and he’s relentless about it—even though you try to push him away, even though you start keening and telling him to slow down, even when you’re panting hard and pleading with him to give you a break. “Shin,” you say, voice breaking, “Shin, no, I can't, please, I'll—I’ll cum, you gotta stop, no no no, I can't, I can't—”

You sob. Fully cry as your back arches, and Shin groans as you gush all over his fingers. Can’t help but watch as you fall apart for him, the way you’ve been wanting the whole time. He admits that it was hot seeing you cum despite the fact that you were begging not to, knowing that he was the one to make you lose control. Still, Shin is a vanilla guy; as soon as you've calmed down, he's wiping away your tears and studying you carefully.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Was that alright? I was reading your mind the whole time and did whatever you were saying to me, but I was still a little worried that—”

You throw your arms around him and shut him up with a kiss.

Once Shin gives up on the use of safewords and starts relying on his clairvoyance, the free use thing also becomes a lot easier.

Now, it isn't like you aren't beaming into Shin’s mind—whether at the store, in your home, or even on the train—that you want him to fuck you at all times. It isn't like he's happily obliging whenever he's over at your place, as many times as his dick will allow. But he likes to ask first, and he likes to hear you say yes first. Unfortunately, you have the specific fantasy that Shin doesn't care what you want—you just want him to manhandle you and pull you onto his cock whenever he feels like it. Also, it's apparently very important that he takes you by surprise, and that he keeps going even if you complain about it?

Shin truly doesn't get it. He's not opposed to having frequent sex. He likes you a lot, wants to give you nice things. You want his cock inside you at all hours of the day? Sure, he’ll give it to you. But why do you want him to be so rude about it? Whatever happened to saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’?!

So anyway, he does it.

It’s hard catching you by surprise. His ESP tells him that you do want—and now expect—to be fucked nearly every moment of every day. You want it in the morning, when you wake up in bed and heat starts curling in your belly at the sight of him next to you. You want it when you're in the kitchen, trying to focus on making dinner while you squeeze your thighs together and try to relieve some of the heat between your legs. You want it as you clean the windows, your panties soaked and thighs messy with slick, thinking of the way Shin fucked you against the glass just the day before.

Want you inside me, Shin, you think nearly all the time. Want you to use me. Please?

This is how you find yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, all the dishes in the sink forgotten as your pussy squeezes around his dick. How you find yourself warming his cock as the two of you watch TV, your focus on the screen wavering as his fingers circle your bud. How he ends up interrupting you when you’re trying to read, pulling down your top so he can squeeze your breasts and tease your nipples through your bra. Stress relief, he calls it, which is true. There are fewer things that take his mind off his ex-assassin troubles than playing with your tits as you squirm on his lap, listening to you squeal and whine as you try to read. Sometimes he can get you to cum that way, too—just by licking and pinching your nipples and letting you grind yourself on his thigh.

It takes him a long time to actually get you off-guard, though.

He finally manages it when he comes home after a late shift in the store, wound up from nearly (but not actually!) killing two hitmen. It wasn't the violence that had bothered him, really; it was the fact that those pricks had knocked over an entire shelf in the store in the process of attempting murder. Couldn't they have attacked Mr. Sakamoto outside?! It took fucking forever to clean up and restock all those cooking wines and soy sauces. Assholes.

To his significant shame, Shin spent his entire commute afterward thinking of coming home and seeing you. Not to kiss you and cuddle with you, which was the sort of thing he wanted to do at the start of the relationship—but to pull you onto his lap and hear the cute noises you make whenever he plays with your body. Apparently that's now his stress response after several weeks of your free use policy, which makes him want to die a little bit. But as this been your explicit goal, he also decides not to fault himself for it too much.

By the time he's stepping into your apartment, he's already hard and thinking about which positions he’ll fuck you in.

In a miraculous twist of fate, Shin catches you while you're folding laundry and thinking about the news, rather than the way his dick felt inside you last night. He knows then that this is his moment: the stars have aligned, and he can finally fulfill your favourite fantasy.

“Shin,” you say, face lighting up. “Welcome home! I didn't hear you come in.”

When he kisses you, you beam at him in a way that's so pretty and innocent that it makes his cock twitch and has him feeling bad about what he's about to do. The two of you could have a wholesome night in for once. You're in the mood for it. He can tell from the way you’re chattering at him about your day off with Lu, and how you’re thinking about maybe doing a trip to Hakone with him because of a travel ad you saw on the subway. I've only ever been once on a mission… it would be nice to go as a couple next time. I wanna go to a ryokan with Shin…

Shin would definitely enjoy a couple’s trip with you. Not just to Hakone, but everywhere else in the world too. Maybe it can be an annual thing, something to do for anniversaries. (Though it's not like he’s thought of destinations for your next five anniversaries or anything. Nope. Not at all.)

Ordinarily he'd start trip planning with you on the spot, but this is an unprecedented opportunity, and his dick is throbbing from the sweet way you keep looking at him. You're in the middle of talking about plans for the rest of the evening, still folding laundry, when Shin's hands slip beneath the hem of your t-shirt.

He feels like a creep doing it. It's rude, right? It's so rude. You were thinking just now about making some popcorn and cuddling up to him and watching John Wick tonight. You weren't expecting to feel his palms sliding up your sides and cupping your breasts. Or for him to start kneading them.

But after a moment of shock, Shin hears a mental cheer from you that’s so loud that it nearly has him laughing.

Of course, you don't voice your enthusiasm. “Shin,” you whine instead, squirming as his fingers start circling your nipples, “I'm—ah—trying to get these chores done.”

“I’m sure they can wait,” he says, pulling you backwards. His cock presses against your ass and your thrill is palpable in his neurons. “This’ll be quick. I promise.”

You don't give in immediately. You chide him a little, then make a half-hearted attempt at continuing at your task. Your hands shake as you pick a shirt out of the basket and start folding it, all while you're being groped and teased and rutted against like a toy. You’re opening a drawer when Shin’s hand wanders between your thighs and he runs his fingers along your shorts. They're thin enough for you to feel his touch through the fabric, and you shudder when he starts rubbing your pussy through them—with a precision that has you melting, because he can hear it when you think about how good it feels when he touches your clit like that, especially while he's ignoring your complaints about it. Who knew you had it in you, Shin? you giggle internally. (Definitely not him, he wants to reply.)

He slides a hand into your shorts, and that's when you drop the laundry and give up.

Shin finds himself fucking you for the better part of the night, first from behind, then from beneath you. The sight of you bouncing on his cock drives him so crazy that he has you pinned underneath him not too long later, moaning and drooling as he drives you into the mattress. He only stops when you start thinking that you're starting to feel too sore. (You can keep going anyway, Shin, you tell him, but he knows he wouldn't be able: it kills his boner whenever you're in any kind of pain.)

But even if you’re a bit uncomfortable, you're practically glowing by the time he's finished.

“That was so fun,” you say as you kiss him. “You should do that more often.”

Shin snorts. “I don't think we can have sex any more than we already do without my dick falling off.” He gives you a curious look, suddenly worried. “Is this really not enough for you, though? ‘cause I can do other things if you want. Use my mouth, or toys, or whatever…”

You seem confused. “Well, it's not really about how many rounds we go…”

He blinks. “It's not?”

“No.”

“Then what is it about?”

You tilt your head. “Haven’t I said it? I mean, I've definitely thought it. It’s about being treated like a ho—”

“I know,” Shin interrupts, deadpan, and you giggle. But then he's studying you intensely; if he wants to give you exciting orgasms for the rest of your life, he'll need to understand what makes you tick.

“What’s the appeal of, uh… being treated that way? If it's not just about how many times we do it in a day?”

Shin encounters one of the major limitations of ESP: if you can't form a coherent thought, then Shin can’t read it. He can only see the knot in your brow, feel the discombobulation in your mind as you try to make out the exact shape of your desire. See it in your face when you can't.

“Who knows,” you finally say. “It's just hotter the way we did it just now, I guess? Like, it's a whole genre of porn. Tons of people like it.”

He frowns. Shin truly doesn't get it, and he wishes he did. But he doesn't need to understand your fantasies to humour you, as long as it makes you happy.

Though... there is one free use scenario he can't deliver.

No matter how many times he’s tried and how many times you've begged him, Shin can't bring himself to have sex with you in your sleep.

He feels a bit bad about it, honestly, because you clearly really want it. You've pleaded with him to try it out for the past twenty nights in a row, slept in exceptionally revealing lingerie just to tempt him, and have recently begun a diabolical routine of teasing him every night. You make out with him, rub yourself on him like a cat in heat, and grind your core on his aching cock through your tiny little panties—all before rolling over in bed and knocking out.

But despite your new habit leaving him with the worst case of blue balls in the world, Shin just can't bring himself to touch you in your sleep.

He doesn't get how it's supposed to work in the first place. It's a kink you probably picked up from all the fanfiction and doujinshi that's rotted your brain, and it doesn't make sense at all when applied to real life. A trained assassin is the worst person to try somnophilia with: “You're a light sleeper and your first instinct is to kill anyone who startles you,” he’d pointed out once. “How am I even supposed to touch you in your sleep without you waking up and accidentally stabbing me?”

In response, you started to take benadryl and melatonin before going to bed, and you promised that you would absolutely, 100% not stab him if you woke up in spite of that. (Okay, it might be more like 90%, but Shin can just use his ESP to see the future and dodge, right?) This flabbergasted him, but also didn't really surprise him.

It also didn’t really help.

The heart of the problem is that somnophilia is truly just too freaky for Shin. Despite everything he's tried with you, nothing really hits like vanilla sex. Even when he's enjoying the more adventurous stuff, he can only do so if he knows without a doubt that you're fully into it, and that's just kind of impossible if you're asleep when he's doing it. What if you wake up and realise that you didn't want any dick that night, actually? What if you wake up and you feel complicated, empty—not as good as you thought you would?

“But I’m always going to want it,” you insist, “and I'll like whatever you do with my body! You don't have to worry about all that.” Which is, again, an absolutely insane thing to say—but Shin doesn't know how to explain that to you. Your mind buzzes with frustration and something that feels a little like heartache whenever he tries, a knot in your chest that you don't really understand yourself, and it makes him feel so bad that all he can do is kiss you until your sadness ebbs away.

So Shin keeps his hands to himself, even when you're having the horniest dreams he's ever seen.

He doesn't mean to peer in on them. It's just impossible not to when you're next to each other in bed and your subconscious is making you think and feel crazy things. The sad dreams are probably the loudest ones, but the wet dreams are a close second. And this current dream is both very wet and very loud. Whenever Shin closes his eyes, he sees it clearly: some faceless man is on top of you, inside you. With each thrust of his hips, you shift in your sleep—thighs pressed together, hips twitching. Hot breaths, little whimpers. Your body is begging to be filled.

Shin doesn't take it personally that you're dreaming of some random guy instead of him. It's part of a particular kind of free use fantasy for you—the idea of anonymous men using you impersonally, like some kind of gloryhole. You used to think of it so much in your waking hours that it's lost all shock value to him. It doesn't turn him on, either—it's just not his thing.

So he lies down next to you and prepares to fall asleep to some pretty mundane gangbang visions. He's nearly drifted off when something happens that makes his eyes open wide—

You start to feel uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable, uncertain. You've just realised that you can't recognise the face of the man on top of you, that you aren't sure if it's Shin. You’re squirming, wanting to get away, because I don't want anyone other than Shin to touch me, I don't want anyone other than him to use my body, I don't want anyone other than him inside it. A sense of panic grips you, and now the whimpers you're letting out don't sound needy anymore.

You sound afraid.

Shin is on you immediately. A hand on your cheek, his voice soft so as not to scare you. “Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. I'm right here. Wake up for me, okay? C'mon.”

He shakes you gently, and then not so gently, and now he's wondering what ungodly cocktail of sleep meds you took to stay unconscious like this. But even if you aren't awake, you can still hear him, his voice cutting through the fog of your sedative-fueled dream—and that's enough to comfort you. You can make out his features now, which are so handsome that you can't help but calm down.

Oh, your dream self says, it is you. Hi, Shin.

Shin sighs. “Hi,” he says, voice full of relief. “Yeah, it's me.”

The little smile you give him is so tender that his heart lurches. I'm so glad, you sigh. I don't want anyone else to do this to me.

This dream version of you is chatty. Infinitely chattier than your real self. I wouldn't have minded some other guy on top of me in the past, you know? you tell him as he undresses you. As long as I came, I didn't really mind whoever was inside me. It's not like I got to choose anyway. I was using my body for missions, so I only slept with whoever I got assigned. Cumming was a nice bonus though.

The Shin in your dream kisses a path from your jaw to your neck to your breasts, ignoring you. (The real Shin would never do this—he would probably start crying if you ever talked about any of this stuff out loud to him, actually.) He doesn't reply as you keep babbling about what sex used to be like for you, about all the stuff that Shin’s seen in your sadder dreams. Not that you think they're sad; you don't know that you sometimes cry in your sleep. You don't think it's too strange that the kind of sex you had for missions sometimes made you pretend that you weren't in your own body, that the kind of things being done to it weren't also being done to your heart. As long as your body had an orgasm, then you were probably enjoying it—that only makes sense, right?

But then you started sleeping with Shin, and sex always feels so different now. Shin doesn't just make you cum; he makes you feel like you're melting. Like you don't want to be anywhere in the world except in his arms where he can hold you and kiss you and hopefully fuck you a second time.

I never liked going multiple rounds with other people the way I do with you, you observe. I kinda feel like I maybe didn't like having sex at all. But you like it if it's Shin. All the things you hated doing with other people—being held, being kissed, being used—you always enjoy doing them with Shin. You’re actually pretty sure that you were doing them all wrong before you met him, and it's nice that your body feels right whenever he touches you now.

That's what you like most about when he fucks you, actually. You can always trust Shin to make your body feel right.

That's when it clicks for him: the shape of your desire, the reason your heart twinges when Shin starts talking about safewords and boundaries and how he can't just do whatever he wants with you. It makes him feel an ache in his own chest, and he finds himself leaning down to kiss your forehead, and then—after a long, thoughtful pause—the silky contour of your mouth.

The Shin in your dreams moves in lock-step with him. Kind of. He kisses you as well, his hands wandering all over your body. But then he gets wildly out of character. Shin goes bright red when he hears the porn dialogue he's been assigned. He wants to wake you up so he can tell you that he wouldn't ever call you his cum dump (what the hell), but it's making you wet that you're being treated like one—and to his utter shame, Shin’s dick is starting to twitch too. Something about you squirming underneath him, desperate and vulnerable for him even when asleep, is making his brain short-circuit.

When you start begging him to touch you—please, Shin, I was so scared I need to feel you now, need you inside me right now, want you to use my pussy, only you and no one else—Shin feels something inside himself snap.

And he touches you.

He starts with your breasts, because that seems least likely to disturb your sleep, and god knows he doesn't want you to wake up and witness him doing something so deranged. But your eyes stay closed even though you feel his touch in your dreams, your nipples pebbling as he teases and pinches them. Your brow dips and you whine, and you only get louder when his tongue starts swirling around a nipple—but you stay fully asleep.

When he reaches down, he's unsurprised to find your panties soaked through. Not just from your juices, but also from all the cum he left inside you earlier in the day. He strokes you through the ruined satin, a thumb rubbing your swollen clit, and he’s startled to feel you get even slicker. His dream self wonders at how sensitive you are, how needy your pussy is, and Shin cringes at hearing himself saying all that—but he also agrees. You always make a point of using toys to keep yourself stretched out for him if he's not around to do it himself, and your body is at this point practically trained to expect his touch—but even then, it's shocking how ready you are to take him even when unconscious.

When he pushes your panties to the side, he sees your hole is fluttering around nothing—both here and inside your dream. The sight makes him lose any shred of self-restraint, and he frees his dick from his sweats and starts fisting himself until his length is slick with his own pre-cum. Your subconscious can't quite recreate the feeling of taking his cock, leaving you panting and unsatisfied, and he fully intends to fix that.

He lines himself up with your slick folds—and he pushes into you.

Shin can hardly believe that you're still sleeping right now, all while your pussy helplessly swallows his cock. He'd feel bad if he didn't know how blissed out you were, your subconscious flooding with euphoria, your body overfilled with pleasure. He's being pretty rough with you in your dreams, but he's careful with you in reality, the way he's always told you he'd be.

Plus, he really doesn't want you to wake up.

But despite his best efforts, your eyes open. You're groggy, confused, not understanding what's happening and how come your breasts are exposed or why is there a cock inside you—and then your eyes are going wide as your pussy starts pulsing around him, and you're gasping and crying as you feel yourself soaking everything.

By the time you figure out what's going on, Shin’s come back to his senses. He blurts an apology on instinct, launches into a garbled explanation of why he was fucking you—but you just give him a dazed smile, a sweet little kiss, and then you turn over to spread your dripping pussy for him.

“Keep going, Shin,” you say, voice drowsy but no less clear. “You're still hard, right? Use my body until you feel better. Promise I'll like it.”

Shin sucks in a breath, feels the last threads of his sanity snapping. He's a vanilla guy, after all. Nothing hits like hearing you ask to be fucked out loud—except for maybe the sight of his cum dripping out of your swollen, needy pussy, your cunt fluttering around nothing and clearly wanting his cock back inside it. The combination is driving him wild.

You don't end up getting any more sleep after that.

The two of you do a lot after that. Way more than Shin ever thought he would in bed, including the most embarrassing roleplays in the world. There was the stuckage roleplay, the sex worker roleplay, the school classroom roleplay, the french maid roleplay, and—perhaps the worst of them all—the chikan roleplay.

(Yes—the two of you tried the free use thing in public, with Shin feeling you up during a commute home as you squirmed and pretended to ignore it. He'd tried to be subtle, telling himself he would stop if anyone noticed what you were doing, but you kept thinking that you really wanted him to keep going, so of course he had to oblige. Shin now can't take the Yamanote line without wanting to die from shame, nor without thinking about you instantly cumming on his fingers when he told you that you were being watched.)

But despite all those insane sex acts, nothing scares him as much as when you ask about his kinks.

“I don't have any specific fantasies,” he says quickly. “I'm a vanilla guy. You know that.”

“Uh huh. Sure. I also know that you're lying.”

He tries not to sweat.

“It’s okay, Shin,” you say delicately. “You don't need to be embarrassed. Breeding kinks are very common and respectable. It's the most normal thing out there, if you think about it. Humans need to procreate somehow, don't they?”

Shin can't form a response. He’s too busy visualising potential escape routes from this room, of which there are none because you are much faster than him and could easily intercept him if he bolted. When he accepts his fate, he forces himself to look at you and finds himself being stared at. Studied.

“So,” you say.

“S-so?”

“Tell me what flavour of breeding kink you like.”

His face burns. “What do you mean, flavour?”

“Like the kind of scenario where the breeding is happening. Like omegaverse, or hybrids, or those stories where someone's chained up and forcibly bred. You know.”

Shin realises then that he absolutely cannot tell you the fantasy that has him furiously jacking off when you aren’t around. He just knows you wouldn't understand it, and possibly you'd also read too much into it. Maybe you'd even freak out and break up with him. He’ll need to keep this a secret and carry it to the grave—or at least for another five years, after which it might make more sense to bring up as a serious conversation.

But you're very, very persistent about asking, and around five weeks later, he caves and tells you everything.

“Pleeease, Shin,” you beg for the millionth time, batting your lashes and giving him wide, pretty eyes you know he can't resist. “Whatever it is, I promise I won't judge. Like—I’m the last person who can make fun of anyone for their kinks. You know the kind of shit I read.”

Shin does indeed know the kind of shit you read—he’s also read it all, secondhand through your thoughts—and he does indeed know that you are in no position to judge anyone else for their preferences. But judgment isn't what he's worried about. It would be easier if it were. If his breeding kink had anything to do with omegaverse or hybrids or the weird dubcon stuff you described, it would be far less incriminating. But given the truth, he coughs and tries to crack a joke—“I dunno, it might be too freaky even for you”—and you give him a look so disappointed that he nearly flinches.

“H-hey—what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I just wish you trusted me. “I’m fine, I promise.” I trust you with my thoughts. How come you can't trust me with yours? “Don't pay attention to whatever you can hear from my mind, by the way. It's not anything you should worry about.” I don't want you to feel guilty.

The two of you have a strict rule, given your lack of mental boundaries: when Shin overhears something that you don't want to discuss, he's supposed to pretend it never happened. Usually he obliges, but this is just impossible to ignore. You have a point: you are willing to be vulnerable around him 24/7. There are no psychological barriers between the two of you. Each moment you choose to be with Shin, you also choose to forfeit all privacy for your heart—an act that confuses Shin as much as it moves him. Because everyone dislikes his uninhibited access to their minds. Everyone has something to hide. Everyone should be at least a little bit afraid of him—you, most of all.

The one time Shin voiced all this, you gave him a funny look and thought, I don't understand what you mean.

Because you don't mind that Shin can hear all your thoughts. You don't mind him knowing your insides, feeling out all the places that make you feel nauseous and bruised and dirtied. You don't mind that he's seen things about you that make you feel disgusted with yourself, things that make you feel like your body is undeserving of love—because you know he won't judge you for any of it. Because Shin is a good person, he’s good to me and he's good to my body, better than anyone else has ever been and will ever be. That must be why I have such mind-blowing orgasms when I sleep with him.

I didn't know how good sex could feel until I met you, Shin. Did you know that?

Shin did know that. He had actually figured all that out some time ago from seeing your dreams, which is only making him feel worse. His access to your thoughts is so unlimited that he understands your desires better than you do yourself. It's only fair that you should also understand some of his, right?

Besides, it's just a kink. A harmless kink. You won't think too hard about it, right?

Right?

He clears his throat.

“I…”

You glance at him, curious.

“I'm kinda into… like, a domestic kind of scenario… with the whole, uh…”

He can't bring myself to say it, so you do it for him: “The breeding thing? Like, you’re into the idea of breeding me in a domestic roleplay?”

Shin is going to die. But he perseveres, because it's you, and you deserve this bare minimum from him: “Yeah… like. You're a housewife, and we… y'know.”

You give him a blank stare, which then gives way to understanding. “Oh! I know what you mean.”

“D-do you?”

“Yeah! Like those doujinshi where there's a lonely housewife and the neighbour cucks her husband by sleeping with her, right? Or her daughter’s boyfriend sleeps with her. Or the husband’s father.” You hum, studying him, somehow not reacting to the way his jaw just dropped. Just what the hell have you been reading when he isn't around? “Or is it one of those wedding NTR scenarios?”

“What? No!” Shin really is going to die. But he comes clean, because he won't be able to live with himself if he gets roped into a roleplay about any of those situations: “I just mean, like. We’re a married couple, and we’re trying for a baby.”

You stare, and he hears the open confusion in your mind. Apparently you can't fathom why anyone would find a life of domestic bliss sexy if it's not about to involve some form of cucking. But you keep your word and don't judge him: “Oh. Well, that'll be easy enough to do.”

Shin blinks. “You mean… you’ll do it?”

“Of course I'll do it,” you say, warm and reassuring. “I wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel, Shin.”

Something in him melts at the words, especially because he can hear that you're saying them with your whole heart. Every response he can think of is lacking, and he's at a painful loss for a reply. But then you cheerfully add, “And anyway, you fingerbanged me on the Yamanote line. This is the least I can do in return,” and Shin goes back to wanting to disintegrate.

Despite Shin’s insistence that his fantasy has nothing to do with the R18 cucking doujinshi that you read, you seem dead set on taking inspiration from them. For the next week, he's subjected to some of the worst imagery he's ever encountered as you “perform research” for the scenario you're planning for him—which is to say, he reads a great deal of ecchi manga through your thoughts. Their contents make him incredibly afraid of whatever you'll come up with, but he's also oddly touched at how committed you are to the whole thing, so he can't help but leave you to your machinations.

And to be fair to you, you do your due diligence by asking him additionally what he wants.

“What’s your idea of domestic bliss?” you say one afternoon, when the shop is slow and sleepy and Lu is mercifully absent. “Like, what do you imagine a happy household looks like?”

Shin knows the answer immediately: Mr. Sakamoto with Ms. Aoi and Hana. Eating a home-cooked meal around a table with them and Lu. Waking up each morning to the scent of miso soup and the noise of a laughing child. Hana running into the store as she returns home from school, carefree and loved. Watching you teach her how to fold origami cranes so you can make some to hang from her ceiling. Seeing you beam when she says, Thank you, neesan.

Being embraced by you when he comes back to the store after almost dying. Feeling you wipe the blood off his knuckles before kissing them. Hearing you say, Welcome home, I missed you, let’s eat dinner. Cooking for you with his hands that he once used only for killing.

That's family to Shin. All of you, in the store, together.

Now, Shin will absolutely die if you use such sacred memories as a reference for this roleplay, so he doesn't voice any of this. Problem is—he doesn't have any other reference point for what a family should be. He grew up in a lab, and then afterwards he watched his father explode on a ship. You can't exactly fill in the gaps for him either, given how you were raised, and he constantly listens to the buzz of your disappointment at having no real material to work with for this roleplay.

“I dunno,” Shin eventually says. “Maybe, like, I come home and you’re in the kitchen? And I help you make dinner? And we eat together and go to bed together. I feel like that's what a married couple does.”

You hum. “Yes, that sounds right. And I'm wearing an apron, right? With a conservative outfit that's still tight enough to be kind of sexy?”

“Uh…”

“And I'm super lonely because you've been neglecting me because of work and we haven't had sex in two years?”

Shin is baffled. You can't even go two hours without asking him to have sex—two years is unfathomable. “Uh…”

“And the neighbour has made several passes at the lonely housewife next door, but I turn him down because I only want my husband’s cock inside me, right?”

Shamefully, Shin’s dick twitches at this last suggestion. Still, he says, “Er, no, I’d really just like you to act as you normally do. I don't need a re-enactment of The Neighbourhood Housewife series.”

“Aw, okay… And you're really sure you don't want me to wear an apron?”

Shin overhears a thought, and he almost snorts. “You're free to wear one if you want.”

“I just feel like aprons do a lot for me.” You give Shin—and his shop apron—a meaningful look. “Don't you?”

Shin tries not to flush. A little afraid that you'll next suggest that he wears an apron and plays a lonely househusband, he hastily says, “Good point. I think you should wear one.”

When Shin gets home that Friday, he discovers that aprons do a lot for him too.

This revelation is shocking for him, given all the housewife-centric porn that he's been forced to read secondhand. He's seen probably half a dozen women in nothing but aprons and hardly reacted to any of them, but the sight of you in a sky blue apron, humming as you chop away at some carrots, is doing something horrible to him.

The setup is getting to him too. There are couple photos placed throughout your apartment (among them is his personal favourite, taken among the cherry blossoms at Himeji Castle), as well as a fake wedding band on your finger (he’d picked out one with you at your insistence, and Shin thought it was funny at the time but now his ears are going pink at the sight of it). The air is rich with the fragrance of cooking rice and simmering curry. New curtains, a vase of flowers on the table, unfamiliar decor and some of his personal effects are placed throughout the living room—all to create the illusion of just having moved in together.

The scene isn't making him feel horny, exactly. It's more like it's making him feel warm.

It’d be nice if the two of you could live together like this, he thinks. If Shin could really come home to this everyday, and if you could really greet him with a kiss and smile, and if you could cook together and spend time together and fuck nasty together, if you could take your husband’s cock every day and get filled up with his—

Oh. Those are your thoughts. Not Shin’s.

He clears his throat, and he half-expects you to crack a joke about your dirty monologuing, but instead you put down your knife and come by to kiss him on the cheek. “Welcome home, dear,” you say warmly, and Shin’s heart jumps at the pet name. You smile as his cheeks flush: My husband is so handsome, you think, and Shin feels like he's about to explode.

Somehow, this is harder for him than fingerbanging you on the Yamanote line. That was mortifying, but this roleplay is quickly revealing things about his psyche that frankly distress him. Still, he plays his part, and tries to get into the appropriate mindset. You're his wife right now—his beautiful, pretty, gorgeous wife who he lucked out with and somehow married and now he’s has a home with you, and he's going to start a family with you, and he hopes the baby will have your smile and eyes and hair, and he's going to take so many photos of the two of you, and holy shit he's so glad you don't have ESP.

Anyway, he comes up with an underwhelming response: “H-hi. How was your day?”

“Good,” you say. “Was nice to get a break from work. Missed you the whole time though. You kept me waiting too long.” Wanted to feel you inside me all day, you whine at him mentally, and Shin doesn't know how actual married couples go about their daily lives. If you were really his wife and he heard you thinking like that, he'd probably never leave the house.

(Roleplay, he reminds himself immediately after. This is a roleplay. He shouldn't think about actually marrying you. That would be a dangerous route to go down, and he definitely hasn't thought about it before. Nor dreamt about it. No, sir.)

“I'll make it up to you,” he promises.

“You'd better.” You point at the curry that's simmering on the stove. “You can start by helping me with dinner.”

The way the rest of the night is similar to a regular evening together. The two of you cook together, eat together, and clean together. The only difference is that instead of hearing you monologue in your head about how much you want your boyfriend to fuck you, Shin is instead subjected to fantasies about your life as newlyweds. You beam a false memory of your wedding night directly into his head, and the mental image of Shin fucking you in your wedding dress has him so bricked up that he nearly breaks several glasses.

By the time you've both showered and gone to bed, Shin has been tortured for hours with detailed fantasies about your married sex life. (They involve various sets of bridal lingerie, an amorous honeymoon in Thailand, and sex on every surface in the apartment. All unprotected, of course, and accompanied by tender kissing each time.) Somehow, you don't break immersion even once. Even when Shin joins you in bed, you're thinking about how lucky you are to have him as your husband.

Shin doesn't think he's ever been so hard in his life.

You giggle when you’re straddling his lap, feeling it for yourself through your silk slip. “Someone’s excited.”

“‘Course I am,” he says between kisses. “How couldn't I be?”

How couldn't he be, if you were his wife?

(Roleplay, he reminds himself again. Roleplay. This is a roleplay! It's not good to think in marital hypotheticals. It's stupid, really. But he's doing it anyway and holy shit is it making him horny.)

He reaches under your slip, isn't surprised to find your cunt bare and dripping for him. Stretched myself out for you while I was at home today, you think as you move your lips against his, hot and messy and addictive. Used a toy, but it just wasn't the same as my husband’s cock.

He groans against your mouth as he reads your memories of your day: not a fabrication like the hazy visions of your false wedding and honeymoon, but detailed and heated and real. How you really did feel the frustration of a lonely and neglected housewife and couldn't help but take your favourite vibrator and spread yourself out on your shared bed. How you split yourself open on it and moaned his name as it stretched you out. How you gushed as you came, and how it still didn't feel as good as Shin’s touch because you didn't get to kiss him and feel his arms around you at the end.

He feels crazy when he lays you out beneath him. Insane when he studies your gaze, honeyed with lust, and your pussy, pretty and glistening for him. You give him a smile that's shy—genuinely shy, he can tell from your thoughts, because you've done a million freaky things but you've never acted out anything so tender before. Never played house like this, never imagined a cozy and warm life where you get to have a family.

He's never really thought of it before, either. He never had a cozy and warm life growing up, and he didn't really think he could ever change enough that he could have one. Never thought he could have a family, and maybe this is just a roleplay, but it's the first time he's really envisioning himself starting one.

“Are you gonna put a baby in me, Shin?” you ask shyly, and he nearly cums in his pants.

Shin generally likes to take his time with you in bed. Even if he can hear you mentally whining for his cock, he ordinarily likes to tease you with his tongue and fingers first. But he's desperate to be inside you today, and he can tell that you aren't upset by how quickly he frees his cock and presses it against your entrance. He can feel himself throbbing as he slides between your folds, his cock twitching at the slick and sticky noises from your cunt.

“So eager,” you tease. You break immersion just to taunt him, bedroom eyes turning sly: Wow, you really do get off to this stuff. Never would have pinned you for the type to enjoy breeding someone like this—

“Wife,” he corrects you without thinking, and you blink.

“Huh?”

“You’re not ‘someone’, you're my wife,” he says, fully talking with his dick, “I wouldn't marry anyone other than you, and I wouldn't put a baby in anyone other than you.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Shin is vaguely aware of your heart pounding as he lines his cock up with your entrance, your pussy fluttering even as your mind scrambles for words. “O-oh, really? I mean, I guess that is what the scenario-ohhh—aah…”

Your mind goes blank as Shin pushes into you, and Shin’s finding it equally hard to think. He can never get used to how you feel around him—tight and hot and perfect—and it’s even more overwhelming this time thinking that he'll get you pregnant. The thought has him feeling so insane, he can't help but start fucking you immediately.

You gasp when he starts thrusting, driving his cock into you at an angle that has you curling your toes. Pleasure bursts in your mind as he hits your sweet spot, your pussy squeezing around him each time. He's touched you so many times, fucked you into oblivion so many ways, committed every inch of your body and mind to muscle memory—it’s easy for him to take you apart, force you toward a quick finish.

Your hole starts dripping uncontrollably, and your belly tightens in a way that short-circuits your thoughts. Shin reaches between your bodies before you can fully comprehend it, rubbing your clit until you’re whimpering.

Sometimes your mind sounds very needy when you’re about to climax—more more more, right there, right there, don't stop, don't stop—and sometimes you sound pretty depraved—that’s right, Shin, fill me up, wanna be your cum dump—and sometimes you sound very tender—please kiss me, please hold me, please be as close to me as you can—but right now, you just sound shocked.

A-already? you think, dazed, and before your brain can catch up with what he's doing, Shin presses down on your belly and grinds his cock against your g-spot and suddenly you're tearing up as you gush all over him.

It's so hard not to cum with you. Shin nearly has to resort to using ESP on himself to keep it from happening. But he fucks you through your orgasm without pause, and he doesn't really slow down until you're a hazy, fucked out mess. Every inch of your body is so wrung out from pleasure that Shin can't hear a single, coherent thought—just a mindless rush of dopamine—which means you're probably relaxed enough to take his cock just the way he wants.

He brushes his lips against yours, sweet and easy, before he says, “Let me know if this is too much.”

“Hmm?” Not ready to form real words yet, you think, What are you up to, Shin? and You can do whatever you want with my body, you know that now.

Shin answers by throwing your legs over his shoulders. You squeal when he practically folds you in half, grabbing at the sheets when he starts to move again. Your pussy tightens around him as he pumps his cock into you, your body eager for more even though you just came. Deep, you think, gasping, it's so deep—

Shin feels it when he hits your cervix, and he hears you thinking it too. You keen when he does it again, moaning at the feeling. Feels good, Shin, you reassure him, your fingers reaching for your clit. Keep going. It's all he needs to hear before he starts pounding into you again.

He feels like an animal when he fucks you like this. Can't think about anything other than how deep he is inside you and how completely he's going to fill you up, how you're going to be walking around with his cum inside you for days. You’re thinking about it too—please, Shin, want your cum in me, want it in my womb, want you to breed me, please, please, wanna give you a baby—

Shin groans, his hips stuttering to a halt as his cock starts twitching, and soon he's pumping thick ropes of cum into you. You follow not long after, you pussy milking his cock as you gush all over him. He lets it, too—stays inside you the whole time and makes sure that you take it all, the two of you kissing each other hungrily. Only pulls out once you're both spent, and you whine at the emptiness afterwards.

Your hole is stuffed so full that his cum drips out of you almost immediately; you make a small noise as you feel it soaking the sheets. Somewhat predictably, you reach in between your legs, spreading yourself to give him a show.

“You came so much,” you say. “I can’t keep it all inside me.” As if you even tried.

Shin is used to your cumshot displays, but he feels his throat go dry at the sight anyway. “Um…” He licks his lips, and he’s momentarily torn between cleaning you up with his mouth and pushing it all back inside you. “Aren’t there, um. Positions you're supposed to stay in after? To help. With keeping it in. To get pregnant, I mean.” At least Shin remembers this fact from one of the many breeding fics you read over the past week.

“Are there? Oops.” You give him a guilty look. “I didn't know that. I guess we're gonna have to do that all over again.”

Shin snorts. Figures. “I'm gonna need a few minutes,” he says. Then he lies down, pulls you with him. “I wanna hold you first anyway.”

You make a happy noise as you're wrapped up in his arms, his chest pressed against your back as he curls around you. Apparently still committed to your role, you grab your phone as you snuggle up to him and look up post-coital positions for couples trying to get pregnant. Shin watches you type on your screen, idly touching you all the while—his lips kissing your shoulder, his fingers running along the arc of your hip. “Oh, huh, you're right. I'm supposed to lie down and keep my lower body elevated…”

“Elevated?”

“Yeah, people put a pillow underneath their hips sometimes… or sometimes they put their legs up.”

He makes a face as he tries to imagine it. “Sounds uncomfortable. I feel like the pillow thing should be enough… not that I think it's gonna make a difference with how often you like to have sex, anyway.”

You laugh. “Kind of a wonder I'm not pregnant already, huh?” Then you give him a look that's supposed to be shy, but is a touch too playful to be convincing. “But hopefully I will be after this.”

Heat crawls up his neck as he listens to your thoughts. You're not even imagining anything especially filthy—just thinking about what it'll feel like to carry his child. Shin recognises some of your monologuing from a fanfiction you read two days ago, a lot of which is sort of sensual. But it's really the original, non-sexual bits that are doing a lot for him. Stuff like how you'll probably have really bad morning sickness, but you know Shin will be there to rub your back as you throw up. Or how you're worried about whatever weird cravings you’re going to get, but you know Shin will buy whatever snacks you want. Or how uncomfortable you'll be when your stomach gets huge and the baby starts kicking, but I bet Shin will be excited to feel that, though.

There's a long, heavy pause before you think, You're gonna be such a good dad, Shin. Because Shin is a good person, he's good to you and he's good to your body and he's good to everyone at the store. He’s going to be so good to his child, and he’ll be good to their mother, too.

Shin doesn't realise that his fingers are resting on your stomach until he feels you lay your own over his. He closes his eyes and imagines a life there, cradled beneath the hand that he once only used for killing, the laugh of a child carefree and loved, the sound of your voice welcoming him home at the end of the day—every day, for the rest of his life—and obviously it's just a roleplay, it's a roleplay and he's being a moron for thinking in marital hypotheticals, but he says, “I can't wait to start a family with you.”

You stiffen.

Shin blinks. He listens for your thoughts, but there's only a long, crawling silence, and then you bolt upright and say, “Resident Evil.”

His eyes go wide. He sits up, reaches out for you—“H-hey, what's wrong?”—but you're already slipping out of bed.

“Need to pee!” you squawk. “Don't want to get a UTI, y'know?” And then you're gone and the bathroom door is slamming shut.

Your apartment is small, just like most places in Tokyo. The washroom is well within 400 metres of the bed, so Shin can fully hear you crashing out in there. The thoughts are incomprehensible at first—garbled words, high pitched buzz, flashbulb images. Chain link fence. Bloodied knife. Needle in a child’s arm, a string of cranes hanging above their head. Zombies on a screen, Mario and Princess Peach. An older boy with white hair, pinching a crease into flower-patterned paper. Niisan left me they all left me they never wanted me. Nobody ever wanted me, except for Sei-nii but that was only to use me for missions so many missions I lost count. A dark room full of men, their jugulars slashed. Other men, other rooms over the years. There are so many of them, so many men inside my body using my body has Shin ever looked in my head and counted them all?

The sound of chimes in a convenience store. Your favourite place in the world. Then Shin at the stove, in an apron. He's so handsome. Now he's holding a baby, a little boy who looks just like him.

There's someone beside him, and it isn't you.

You turn on the shower, and the rush of water is loud so Shin can't hear the sad little noise you make with your throat, although you can probably hear everything in my head, right? Sorry. Please ignore me. I'll be normal in a minute.

Shin wants nothing other than to kick open the door to help you, but his guilt stops him. His regret at how invasive his powers are, at how he can't shut out your thoughts, so loud and raw, when you most need privacy. It's the least he can do to respect your wishes and leave you alone.

He sits on the bed, listens as the roil of your thoughts become a simmer and then still. The shower turns off. The toilet flushes. I really don't want a UTI. You wash your hands, count to ten, and you come out looking and sounding so calm that if Shin couldn’t read minds, he'd never guess that you just had a mental breakdown in the toilet.

“Hi,” you say neatly as you sit down, and Shin pulls you into a hug so suddenly that you yelp.

“I said to ignore my thoughts!” you whine, squirming in his grip, trying to get away.

Shin actively stops himself from sighing. “I don't need to hear your thoughts to know something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine! I'm normal. I'm very normal right now.”

He gives you a long, unimpressed stare, but you return it with the look of a prey animal about to bolt, and he realises he has to humour you.

“...alright,” he says, “you're normal. Nothing's wrong.” Shin watches you uncertainly, seeing the tension in your body, hearing the rush of blood in your skull. You're staring at your fingers, remembering how to fold the wings of a paper bird. Trying to focus on the motions and not the person who taught them to you. Trying not to let Shin see all the people you miss and all the things that weren't meant for you.

You find it hard to look at him, so he stares at the wall instead.

“Do you want to be left alone right now?” Shin guesses.

Your voice is very, very small: “...yeah.”

Shin’s brow knots, but he can't hear anything other than a vague emptiness from your heart now, and he shouldn't be listening anyway. Shouldn't exploit the fact that your mind is so defenseless around him.

He's pulling himself away when you say, “Wait.”

You’re visualizing escape routes out of the apartment right now. You'd beat Shin in each one, and you'd be able to disappear from Tokyo long before he could ever catch up to you. But you stay on the bed instead, fidgeting as you stare at your lap, and even though your face is calm, the flood of your thoughts is so scared and sad and hopeful that Shin finds his head and heart aching simultaneously. He wants crush you in his arms and say all the things you want to hear—and then all the things you need to hear, but don't know.

But he stops himself.

“If there are thoughts you want me to ignore,” he says, “then you'll need to say the ones you want me to know out loud.”

You wince. You trust Shin with listening to all your thoughts, but actually voicing them is something you're not very good at yet. Assassins are secretive by nature, and you were raised to be a killer. I’ll throw up if I say this, you think, face miserable.

“You'll throw up if you don't,” Shin points out, feeling your stress response in his brainstem.

You nearly look—and feel—physically pained when you say, “I… I’d like it if you stayed.”

Shin's not sure when his own heart started feeling so heavy, but he's relieved to feel the weight lift. “Okay.”

So Shin settles next to you in bed, and after a moment, you start to relax. The anxious chatter of your mind goes quiet. The old memories stop blinking at you. You try to focus on your boyfriend to further ground yourself. He has a handsome face so it's easy. He goes bright red at the thought, which makes you smile.

Shin cracks a joke, which makes you snort, and after that you crawl pretty eagerly back into his arms. You demand kisses and he happily obliges. Your fingers seek him out and he knows to hold your hand. You rest your head on his chest and you listen to him talk about all the goings-on the store, the upcoming movies he wants to see, the ryokan he's booked for the two of you, and now you're very drowsy.

People's thoughts get slippery and strange when they’re on the verge of sleep. Sometimes it's garbled nonsense, but sometimes it’s their unguarded feelings. Shin hears yours, faint and scared but so very, very tender:

Wasn’t raised for a life like that… Never even thought about it… But if it's Shin…

Shin wants to grab you and make you look at him. If it's Shin, what?! he wants to ask. Suddenly, he’s having insane thoughts about if you’d like to actually live together and when's the right time to get serious and come to think of it, Mr. Sakamoto wasn't much older than him when he got married, right? Maybe he's not crazy for having daydreams where your face is lighting up at a diamond ring that he got you. Not a fool for wanting to come home to you every night. Not losing his mind for thinking that it might be nice to have kids at some point down the line.

Not stupid for maybe sort of really wanting to have them with you.

It did make him feel like he was insane, when he first started having those thoughts. Shin had never contemplated any of that stuff before. He’d grown up in a lab. Drifted through life being rejected for his powers. Shot his own father and watched him die. The only person who looked out for him after that was Mr. Sakamoto, and then he dipped soon afterwards anyway. All this to say, Shin wasn’t exactly raised to expect that he'd someday have a family, either. Never even thought about it, because he was sure he'd never get it.

But even if he’s never expected such a life, Shin can’t help but hope for it when it comes to you.

He would really like to tell you all this, but by the time his own mental crashout is over, you're fully asleep and drooling on his chest. So deep in the REM cycle that when Shin tries to read your mind, he catches you dreaming about kissing him on the Yamanote line, giggling into his mouth as his ears turn red. Typical.

There's a ring on your finger, different from the pretend-play version you left in the washroom. This one’s got a diamond, simple but pretty. It suits you.

Shin commits the design to memory, and he decides to stay up a little bit longer, watching the dream with which you've trusted him.

END

notes: the funniest part of this fic to me is how much build-up was required for shin to try the most standard kinks on tumblr dot com. i am very sorry if you felt misled by the summary/tags, expecting to read something super kinky only to find that this fic was fairly vanilla. i blame shin.

also i know this is not my best writing </3 I actually lowkey wanted to delete it all at the midway point alskdfjsldfkj but we move. please do let me know if you liked it!!!!

#asakura shin x reader #shin asakura x reader #sakamoto days x reader #sakadays x reader #sakamoto days smut #shin asakura smut #dividers by @/cafekitsune

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fastcardotmp3 · 2 months ago

Text

600 words; post 8x17; they're back in the same house as if it's my fault....

Pepa has gone home and the dishes are done and Eddie is in the shower and Buck is alone with Christopher for the first time in a year and all he can think about is Eddie on the verge of cracking as he lamented the fact that his son has lost yet another person he loves when he's barely a teenager and--

"I'm sorry. That I didn't check in on you properly."

"You checked in," Christopher screws up his face, the same old way he always has when Buck says something he can't register as true.

"Not-- enough," Buck clears his throat. This kid takes up more space on the couch than he used to. Is this couch smaller than the blue one shipped off to Texas? Has Chris gotten that much bigger? "I'm sorry. I know you loved Bobby just as much as the rest of us, and there's no excuse I-- I promised I'd always be there for-- you."

Christopher looks at him. Christopher looks at him and there is a painful amount of Eddie in that gaze, the way it studies, the way it surveys a person and logs-- logs, just-- Buck doesn't even know what, but he knows when Eddie does it, he always finds himself devastatingly seen on the other end.

And Christopher is doing it. Looking at him like that. Surveying.

"It's okay, Buck," he says, like a little boy overlooking a drawn-back sea. "I get it."

"You get...?" It's Buck's turn to be confused, trying his damnedest to control the stinging at the backs of his eyes as he meets Christopher's gaze.

"I loved Bobby a lot," Chris explains deftly. "He was-- really important. To Dad and me. And he, um, helped us a lot. I remember he brought so much food to Mom's funeral that we had to give some to--"

"You gave some to me, yeah," Buck laughs wetly and lowly and Chris smiles this melancholy little quirk of the lips.

"Yeah," he agrees. "And the more I, like, look at it all? It's super obvious how much he did for us even though I didn't always get it when I was little. But it's still different."

"Different from what?"

"Different from you and Bobby," Chris shrugs. "He was family to me, but it's like. Like, for you it's different. For you it's like if I lost you, y'know?"

Y'know. Said so casually and so certainly.

Like if I lost you.

Like if I lost you, he says, in comparison to the man Buck took into his heart as a stable and consistent presence. A man to look up to, to emulate, to steal little bits and pieces from until Buck himself felt whole.

Like if I lost you, Christopher says, and Buck doesn't have any words to respond to that, only a swelling of feeling he's been holding so tightly against his chest that he couldn't even move when Eddie got up in his face less than twenty-four hours ago.

Buck couldn't move when Eddie told him about the night he spent grappling with it all alone in the dark, couldn't create follow-through from the desire in his heart to reach out and grab on, because his hands were numb and stagnant and stuck.

Now, something knocks loose.

Buck tips forward.

He drags Christopher into his arms and tucks his head under his chin and holds on tight through Christopher's quiet little laugh of surprise at the expression.

His voice is rough when he knocks that loose too.

"God, I missed you, kid."

And as a door clicks open down the hall, as steam chases damp hair and a curious, bright-eyed man into the archway overlooking the scene on the couch, mouthing okay? to Buck's quiet nod of acknowledgment, Christopher embraces him back.

"Missed you too, Buck."

#dot fic #dot post #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #thriving so severely there was nothing to do but drabble about it

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queers-gambit · 2 years ago

Text

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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lnfours · 1 year ago

Note

i could imagine how soft lando is after a fight and maybe you could write something about lando and reader had a lowkey big fight, and lando decided to join her to the shower (GWSJZHHAHZ) and apologize under the shower before finally creating a steamy scene with the reader

ooooh my god. oh my god.

smut (18+ please!)

send in your lando thoughts

the argument was something stupid. a result of exhaustion and frustration on his end. he hasn’t meant to upset you, or yell at you for that matter, but he had. and he felt guilty when you turned on your heels, walking away and leaving him in the kitchen.

you two hadn’t seen much of each other the past week and a half. between his traveling, his training schedule and your own calendar, it felt like you were always just missing each other. it felt like you didn’t get to spend so much time with the other recently, which was a big deal to you beings he’s hardly home to begin with.

you knew he hadn’t really meant to go off, maybe you had caught him at the wrong time. you knew he was tired, wanting nothing more than a simple break. but you couldn’t help it. you missed your boyfriend. plain and simple.

he walked into the bedroom, hoping to find you, but instead heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. he cracked open the door, stripping off his shirt.

“lando?”

“hmm?”

“what’re you doing?” you asked, but you knew what he was doing. he wasn’t being very subtle about it.

the shower door opened and he step foot inside with you, curls sticking to his forehead as the water fell onto the two of you, “joining you, is that alright?”

you nodded, letting his hands find your hips.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, letting your back hit his chest, lips brushing against the skin of your shoulder, “for yelling and getting short with you. i shouldn’t have yelled.”

you hummed softly, “‘s okay,”

“let me make it up to you.”

his words lost into the skin of your neck and the sound of the shower water pouring down around you. his hands rested on your tummy, holding you against him as you felt his teeth gently nibble at the skin where your neck meets your collarbone.

“how do you plan on making it up to me?”

his hands moved down, fingers dipping between your folds as he teased you. you gasped, head falling back against his shoulder as he smiled down at you, “‘ve got a few ideas.”

“lando,” his name on your tongue sounded heavenly to him.

“yeah, baby,” he said, “tell me what you want. i’m yours.”

you moaned, his teeth gently pulling at your earlobe.

“fuck,” you swallowed, grasping at his forearm. wet from the warm water and his muscles and veins peeking through his perfectly tan skin, “i need you. please,”

he was quick to move his hands to your hips, the two of you finding yourselves situated with your hands on the glass, his one hand on your hip as the other teased himself up and down your slit.

“this what you want, pretty girl? want me to fuck you up against this shower wall?”

“please,” you said. and he would’ve been lying if he said he could deny you like this. spread out and vulnerable, waiting for him to take care of the aching between your thighs that was simply his fault.

“c’mere,” he mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of your throat to pull your head back, your mouth opening in a gasp as he pushed in. no matter how many times he’d have you like this, the stretch and feeling of tightening around him was never not delicious.

“fuck,” he mumbled, slowly moving his hips once you had fully adjusted, “missed you.”

“i missed you too.” you managed to choke out. his hand was still around your throat and as he picked up his movements, the pressure against the points in your neck became greater and greater. your eyes rolled back as he moaned into your ear.

“i love you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin below your ear, “so much.”

“i love you too,” you could barely speak, too drunk off of the way his dick was slamming in and out of you. how good it felt to let him have his way with you.

“so good for me,” his free hand traveled, finding your clit with ease as he began running tight circles against it, “come for me, baby. you deserve it.”

you moaned his name, making him pick up the pace just a little more as his hips met yours in a consistent pace. the pace that drove you crazy.

soon the coil in your lower belly was threatening to snap, “‘m so close, lan.”

“me too, baby,” he said, “gonna come for me? come all over my dick, hmm?”

nothing could compete with his dirty talk and he knew it. watching the way your body convulsed against him, your moans and the way you tightened around him sending him over the edge.

he came with you, moaning into your ear as you tried catching your breath. chest rising and falling as he pulled you back from the shower wall. he carefully slipped out of you, letting you turn around before he placed a kiss on your lips.

between kisses he mumbled against your lips, “how about we get cleaned up and take this to the bed, hm?”

you nodded, hands finding his curls, “please.”

#mail time #new moon #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you #ln4 one shot #ln4 smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader imagine #smut

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sacrificiallane · 4 months ago

Text

smut ﹙ sweet tooth ❞ Luke Castellan cw ! gross ! food play ? candy as a toy / food insertion cunnilingus ! oral fixation & a bit of slapping / aftercare

Luke was seriously so done with your behavior ! So, ending up with your legs spread open, and your back flat against his sheets, was really just your own fault…

"Gods, stop whining." A quick, harsh slap was delivered to your twitching clit, having you recoil from his torment and try and close your legs. But Luke wouldn't let you, obviously, and successfully pried them open again.

He wasn't done with you yet.

All day long, you had been teasing the poor guy. With your seemingly sugar addiction ( or maybe it was really just an oral fixation at this point ) he was left watching your bee stung lips wrapped around a lolly, sucking the thing so innocently — and he almost believed your innocent act. Almost.

"Thought you like having things between your lips, hm ?" His tone went a tad darker, his wrist working your sticky clit a bit more ferociously. It had your nails dig deeper into his arm, leaving little crescent indents.

But he didn’t care.

It was a filthy feeling — the candy you had been licking all over just minutes ago, was now pressed against your lips ( your other lips ! ) The blush color of your folds now even pinker, as the candy practically melted against your already dampened skin. It was a mess of sugar and arousal. Sticky, but tingly.

You whined.

"Lu — Luke … please " you pleaded for mercy. Anything to make him stop with the torment.

I mean, you didn’t even think he would react like that ! You were really just craving some candy between your teeth, as a sweet treat for your long, exhausting day of helping younger campers find their way around camp.

But apparently, he didn’t see it quite like that. So, no mercy.

You watched as his dark eyes narrowed in on your face with silent disapproval.

"Lu — Luke" the demigod just repeated your pitiful whine and rolled his eyes. He didn’t care. If anything, he liked seeing you so… willing. Like he could do anything to you, and you’d just let him because… well, because he was your boyfriend. Because you loved and trusted him.

It had him feel like… a God, almost.

"You always have your mouth open," he tsked at you, another warning slap against your thigh as you threatened to shut them close again. "Always have your tongue out. It's sinful baby. D'you like being sinful, huh? Oh, if the gods could see you like that…, think they'd disapprove, hm ?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your mind went… to your very own godly parent. Maybe even other Gods, that would certainly find the very act you were practicing shameful. A sin !

Luke didn’t like your silence.

The sticky pink now pressed much harder against your bundle of nerves — rubbing ! It had your hips raise from the mattress. You could hardly concentrate on the tingling feeling, though, because his large hand tightly grasped your chin.

"I asked you something."

You mumble some incoherent form of reply and — much to your demise — the son of Hermes shoves the sweet sticky candy right through your folds. The little screech you let out makes him laugh, and the sight of your his cunt swallowing the pink thing right up has him on the brink of insanity. Luke loves the noise it makes — the wet squelching sound, when he shifts it around a little bit.

And it felt... weird, definitely, but not at all unwelcome. If anything, it tingled, and had your legs spread even wider. Shamefully so.

His wrist worked you faster then, and Luke watched with great interest as your sticky parts began to leak, a mess of melted sugar and your own arousal no less. It had his mouth water. And the hand still holding your face became even more tense, practically squishing your cheeks together until your lips were left in a pitiful pout.

He felt his boxers tighten at the sight of you creating such a mess — or rather, him creating such a mess of you. And the thought of having you taste like artificial, and very sugary strawberry had him quite literally press his whole face right between your legs.

The Lollipop was finally — finally ! — shoved to the side, somewhere forgotten on the bed, and then the dark haired went all in. Flat tongue catching everything. Every bead that had threatened to trail down your slit and onto his sheets.

A loud groan from him, and he pressed his face even further into you. It was like he was getting off on this.

And he very much was !

You felt yourself twitch. Heavy puffs of air were escaping your lips at the sheer desperation that he was seemingly trying to eat you with.

Like a man starved for days, he was sticking his tongue all the way into your pinkish hole, practically liking it clean from his previous teasing. And Luke was being very throughout with it too.

It didn’t take long for him to find a way to your clit again. There was no more teasing from his, as he sucked the little bundle into his mouth and just vigorously licked away.

"Oh —" You gasped. Loud.

Your reaction was to immediately shut your legs. I mean, you were twitching and tingling, but the pleasure was like … harsh. Like you were really , really close, but all the different sensations were just making it so much harder to finally finish. The tingling obviously wouldn’t stop, with Luke ruthlessly sucking on your bundle.

Like a rope, that was coiling and coiling and… there seemed to be no end. Your thighs were all stiff, basically shaking under his hands as he pried you open. Again.

"Please, please, please …" At this point, you were really just begging for him to somehow help you come undone.

And Luke was, of course, the expert on giving you pleasure ! So he let go, and brought his flat palm down on your throbbing clit.

Your whole body went rigid for just a second, as hot pleasure washed over you…, you couldn’t even gasp or moan, and Luke was quite frankly proud of himself for having brought you such pleasure.

It was only when you felt him shift from the bed, that life slowly came back into your body.

A warm wet cloth came down between your legs, and Luke was rather gentle when he wiped away the access of saliva and sugar. He pressed tingling kisses to your knee, then your thighs, and finally a short one to the mount of your his cunt, like he was equally proud as he was thanking.

Yeah, Luke Castellan was mean, but damn him if he didn't make you feel like the most loved girl in the whole world ♡

𓂃 🖊 more .

#luke castellan 𓂃 written by lane #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader smut #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x you smut #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x y/n smut #mean!luke castellan #mean!luke castellan x reader #mean!luke castellan smut #mean!luke castellan x reader smut

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blacksapphirecookies · 2 months ago

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ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛ

ᴀɴᴏɴ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ : ʜɪɪ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ! ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ (ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴀʙʟʏ) ᴅᴏ ʜᴄꜱ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ꜱᴍᴄ ɢꜰ ᴏʀ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ + ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴀᴘᴘʜɪʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ? ɪᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪᴅᴍ!

^᪲ ⁞ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴍɪʟᴋ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ / ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ : ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ ( ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴀɢ ᴡɪꜱᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ )

ᴀ / ɴ : ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴀɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ. ʙᴇꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ, ᴀɴᴏɴ ! ^^ OH my god i wrote like a whole story instead of writing the headcanons. JUST SKIP TO THE NEXT DIVIDER TO SEE THE ACTUAL HEADCANONS CAUSE IM NOT REMOVING WHAT I WROTE

this is longer than what I wanted it to be and that's my fault 😭

I could really see Shadow Milk either having a significant other, in this case- being a spouse, they would match his energy completely or they'll act the complete opposite of him. It's not like it would matter though, he'll still be headover heels for you regardless on how you act because you're his!

The best way that I could imagine the Beast of Deceit having a spouse is from an arranged marriage that the witches did at the start of your creation.

He quite literally picked you from the start, having you at his side even before he wasn't corrupted and placed into that godforsaken tree.

Having the two of you together before your husband's eventual capture makes a bit more sense due to how he doesn't exactly have the best way with friendships / relationships with other cookies without them being for his own benefit.

You weren't some tool to be used or pawn to shift into position whenever he wanted when he came back to ' achieve ' you. You were his balance, his obsession, his tether.

While Shadow Milk Cookie was trapped inside of the Silver Tree with the other Beast Cookies as punishment, you were with him. Not in the literal sense though, just hidden within the Farie Kingdom and under a new identity ( cool right !? )

The witches, due to the fear of having to deal with another huge panic around the world they created, chose to ' kill ' you off, deeming that you were also involved in the massive destruction that was caused that faithful day.

Their main goal was to keep the two of you away from eachother completely, aware of what might happen if your husband were to somehow get back in contact with you. Though, it seemed like their plan failed considering that as the Silver Tree grew weaker, so were the bounds of his power.

With the arrival of White Lily Cookie, and later Pure Vanilla Cookie and his friends, it ended up becoming clear to you that the seal's power was beginning to fade slowly, allowing your husband to communicate with you. At first, this was though slight visions of blue eyes appearing in your visions whenever you stared out in the distance for too long.

The visions only seemed to get worse overtime, now being more solid than translucent like before.

You can still remember the absolute shock that your being felt when you were jumpscared by your husband's.. spirt? You couldn't tell at first due to how it would fade when you stared at him for too long.

You turned sharply, breathcatching as a figure emerged from the haze, vague and shimmering like a memory half-remembered. The faint glow of blue eyes pierced the gloom, steady and unblinking. " You're here, " you whispered, voice barely more than a breath. The figure stepped closer, the outline of Shadow Milk Cookie materializing through the lingering shadows. His form was still intangible, shifting at the edges like smoke caught in a draft, but his blue-toned eyes light filled the room with a quiet intensity that made your heartache. He didn't speak at first. Instead, he reached out, a ghostly blue hand hovering just inches from yours, trembling with the weight of centuries. The space between you was charged, taut like a wire stretched to breaking, but no matter the distance, you could feel the tether connecting you-fragile but unyielding. " You. . stayed. "

Oh, the joy Shadow Milk Cookie felt when he first interacted with you after his centuries of confinement-! You could feel it ripple across your very soul, like a tidal wave crashing through everything you'd built to survive his absence.

He didn't speak at first, most likely due to him not being completely sure about the new chance in his physical form.

No clever words. No honeyed lies. No deception.

When he did start speaking to you, however, the conversations between yall would last forever- with the two of you making up for lost time.

From this point on, it felt like the world around you two was disappearing. All of the worries of the world seemingly fade away into obscurity.

When your husband eventually escaped from the Silver Tree, with a new body and everything, he was quick to come to you.

I think he'll be the type to gossip about how HORRIBLE of an experience it was to be trapped in that wretched tree for eons on end to you. As well as have you extremely close to him while doing so.

Expect a lot of physical touch from this man.

Years without form, sensation, or closeness have made him a creature of touch. He'll constantly have a hand on you in some way-fingers brushing your arm, an arm around your waist, sitting so close he's basically in your lap.

Hell, he would even wrap you around in his strings and you wouldn't even mind.

He's extremely playful with you, this being shown by the constant amount of times he'll pull pranks on you. Shadow Milk is also heavy on making you stuff, usually being puppets or plushies of things you like.

If Shadow Milk was in a relationship, his love language would definitely be gift-giving.

He would first start by gifting you things small before spending hours making you something intricate when he finds you taking more interest in what he has in store for you.

Drawing random designs for costumes and writing scenes in his plays would also be a huge thing in this relationship of yours.

Since you are his wife, Shadow Milk doesn't mind spending a couple of hours within the Spire of Shadows, making a plushie of a cakehound that looks nearly identical for the real thing.

Speaking of the Spire of Shadows, the two of you would spend days on end just reading and analyzing books that you guys could never finish reading before his capture.

As much as he hates to admit it, this has to be the only part of him that seemed to stay with him after being deemed as a ' Beast Cookie '.

Don't get me wrong, he still kept his silliness and playfulness to a minimum when he was Blueberry Milk Cookie, but that has been bumped up to a ten.

Since he was trapped up in that tree for so long, he just can't stand to not have him with you for an extensive period of time.

Poor guy is just extremely touch-starved and that's something you don't mind fixing.

The amount of cuddling that you two endure in a single day with eachother is unprecedented.

Sometimes, Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie will walk into Shadow Milk and you cuddle and just stare at them until they leave ( I'll get into their section in a second ).

If you aren't into cuddling that much, the two of you will just remain to holding hands and hugging often.

With Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie, it’s safe to say that they were a bit confused when they first met you in person. It almost felt like Shadow Milk kept you a secret from them until they met you.

I like to imagine that Shadow Milk made Black Sapphire and Candy Apple his servants while he was still in the Silver Tree, doing so by corrousing them into coming near the tree and communicating to them at a distance.

So, when Shadow Milk goes and finds you within the Farie Kingdom while they were still technically living there, they were confused.

Especially Candy Apple Cookie.

She was absolutely livid when she first found out about your existance.

Her master randomly having some. . other cookie show up and take all of his wonderful and graceful attention away from her was a big no-no.

She made it her number one goal to avoid you at all cost and just envy you from the sidelines, gossiping about you with Black Sapphire whenever they were alone. Though, they did get caught once doing this by Shadow Milk Cookie, which led to some. . unconfidental punishments and rules being put in place.

Black Sapphire, on the other hand, was more accepting when the two of you first met. Yeah, he didn’t know you and what threat you could’ve potentially held for his boss, but he wasn’t sure if there was to begin with.

He had never seen Shadow Milk Cookie act this way towards anyone before and it almost felt unnatural for him.

Unlike how Candy Apple would avoid you, he would still communicate with you, being rather pleased to have a different personality around him besides ones that were just mainly consisting of chaos.

But, he’ll still keep the talking to a minimum, only communicating with you when he found appropriate.

Overtime, as the years went on with you four being located in the same spire, they eventually come to like you.

Candy Apple Cookie, as much as she hated it at first, actually began to bond with you on some stuff. I mean, you two both loved Shadow Milk Cookie, so that was a start, right?

Things between you and the apple-themed cookie only seemed to grow after she attempted to trick a group of cookies into going into the spire ( i wonder who ).

You were there for her when she had gotten herself beaten up, and you tended to her wounds without a care about how Candy Apple felt about you. This, and Shadow Milk's constant attempts to try and get her to act right around you, helped your ' friendship ' with her become less strained.

It would be a little weird for Candy Apple to still have a heavy crush on Shadow Milk while he has a wife, especially with her seeing his wife as a mother figure. So, I think that her being head over heels for him would eventually fade away or disappear completely, in respect for you two.

With you being her mother figure, this meant that Candy Apple Cookie no longer hides from you.

She's more talkative and playful around you, contrasting how she would act to you in the past.

It was odd to you at first, but you two would only talk about Shadow Milk Cookie when you two started talking.

Candy Apple would practically harass you into giving you more information about her boss, like you didn't know who he was like she did.

This kind of behavior from her did eventually fade away when she found out how serious the relationship you had with was.

Could see her pulling a bunch of pranks on other fairies back at the Faerie Kingdom together, laughing your butts off as they ran away confused and scared by the threat of ' getting crushed ' by the girl's apple hammer.

You try not to indulge in her chaotic antics, but you just can't help yourself !

Seeing the pure happiness on her face whenever she's able to scare someone out of their dough makes you happy.

The attention that she once gave to her master has shifted onto you, nearly always being at your side no matter where you went.

She was always Apple Faerie Cookie whenever she was with you, and that was something that you cherished about the girl.

Black Sapphire, as he grew to know you, doesn't exactly see you as a mother figure at first. It felt more like a transactional relationship at most.

The best way I could see you two getting close is by your personalities colliding in a certain way, though a portion of it did have to deal with how you were able to keep Candy Apple in check alongside him.

He sees you as the peacemaker around the spire and he's very appreciative to have you fill that spot.

The jewel-themed cookie is very fond of the way you and he will gossip about other cookies for days on end, with a cup of tea in front of you both.

He can't help but thank you for the constant slander that you give him about other cookies. It felt a tinch bit boring on his radio show lately, but you never fail to give him the motivation that he needs.

I don't know why but I could also see Black Sapphire's love language being quality time with anyone who comes off as a mother figure to him.

You two, with Candy Apple, will be in disguises and just shop together when your husband is busy, finding cool trinkets and clothes that you would bring back to the spire.

Back with your husband, he isn't exactly happy when he sees his servants becoming more attached to you. It was taking up time that you could've been spending with him !

However, as much as he wants to try and convince you that they were just there to serve him and you alone, he ultimately ends up failing due to how much you've grown to like the two servants he had.

Jealousy was a BIG thing for him.

So, with communication, you're able to split your time from Candy Apple and Black Sapphire with your husband once again.

I wouldn't exactly call you guys ' family ', since Shadow Milk doesn't exactly treat the two like his spawn for it to make sense. But, the title ' servant ' has turned more loose.

It's almost like with you around, the relationship Shadow Milk had with his servants had become more peaceful instead of just being purely about control. Yeah, they'll still answer to his bidding and be his partners in crime, but it no longer felt like that was always case.

If you considered his two lackeys ' family ' of any sorts, he'll bound to make changes with the way he acts towards them in order to make you happy.

Though, he does keep the way he used to act toward them still apparent whenever you're out of the picture.

Besides that, the four of you are a pretty decent ' family '.

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nothoughtsjustfic · 1 month ago

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Pretty Boy - L.JH

🧶Who: Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader 🧶What: Fluff. Smut (18+). Established relationship. 🧶Word count: 4.6k 🧶Warnings: Jihoon’s habit of walking around half naked. Kind of sub Jihoon, but it’s not really a thing. He’s just a simp, really. They’re generally very much on equal grounds. Body worship (Jihoon receiving). Vague mentions of hickies/love bites (Jihoon receiving). Nipple play (Jihoon receiving). Oral (Jihoon receiving). Short mouth fucking moment. Hand job (Jihoon receiving). Jihoon cums on himself. It’s all very soft, really. 🧶Summary: “Sometimes, your boyfriend forgets how pretty he is. It's your job to remind him.”

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

A/N- This was a very spur of the moment decision to write because I decided Jihoon needs a fic titled “Pretty Boy”. The cardigan mentioned is the one he wore during a God of Music live recording (I didn’t realise it’s actually a jumper until trying to find a picture of it, oops). Thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for reading this over for me and assuring me that the smut isn’t shit due to my lack of practise these days 💗

After living with Lee Jihoon for two years now, and dating for another year before that, you’re used to the man shamelessly strutting around the apartment in as little clothing as possible.

Often, you return home and find him lounging around in just his boxers. You’ve kind of become desensitised to his partial nudity at this point, even if he’s ridiculously attractive and favours tiny little boxers that leave nothing to the imagination. Sometimes, you can’t help but jump him when your hormones run wild, but mostly, you just appreciate the view and carry on with your life.

It's normal.

What isn’t normal is for him to decide to add one of your creations to the mix.

A few days ago, you gifted Jihoon a cardigan that you had spent months secretly crocheting for him; a difficult task when the man is always home if not working or at the gym, so you hadn’t gained many opportunities to lovingly create it.

The cardigan is an amalgamation of colourful granny squares, attached together to be oversized on your boyfriend in the way you think makes him look so precious. All the colours against his skin look so pretty, even better than you imagined.

And Jihoon has been far more enthusiastic about the gift than you expected. That’s not to say you thought he’d be ungrateful, because you know Jihoon appreciates everything you give him, even the cheap keyring you won from an arcade game months ago. He especially adores everything you’ve handmade for him and looks after it all so carefully that you knew he’d love the cardigan too.

But you truly hadn’t expected the sheer joy and infatuation he’s shown for it.

Every single day since you gave it to him, Jihoon has worn it. In fact, as soon as you gave it to him, he immediately pulled it onto his naked torso and curled up into a colourfully adorable little ball on the couch at your side.

In retrospect, it may be your own fault for Jihoon’s latest habit. You had given him the cardigan when he was in nothing but his underwear, so he had first worn it with just his underwear and realised how soft the material is against his bare skin.

So now, every single day, you return from work to find him wearing the cardigan with his usual loungewear. Or on the days you’re home before him, you get to witness his sheer determination to shower and get into his new favourite home attire: the cardigan and his boxers. His tiny, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination black boxers, so short that they don’t even peek out from the hem of the cardigan at the top of his thighs.

In fact, you can only catch glimpses of the black material through the holes in the cardigan and are supposed to act completely normal about this.

Clearly, Jihoon doesn’t think there’s any problem with it. He thinks he can just waltz around looking so fucking pretty without you losing your mind.

You’d say he’s doing it on purpose and teasing you, but there’s not even the slightest hint of the usual mischievous glint he gets in his eyes, or the quirk of his lips from the start of the smirk he favours when he’s teasing you.

Today, he’s decided to make it even worse by tying his recently bleached hair up messily, to get it out of his face as he games on his laptop at your side on the couch. A few strands keep falling into his face, making him constantly have to try and tuck them behind his ears, but they’re just too short and only stay in place for a minute at most.

You know that he’s going to get frustrated in a minute, so you get up to go to the bedroom and grab your little bag of hair bands and clips and return to his side. He glances at you and smiles gratefully when he sees the pouch balanced on your legs before he focuses back on his game.

After picking out a couple of cute little flower clips, you place them neatly in his hair and earn an appreciative kiss on the inside of your wrist when he grabs your hand quickly as it retreats, just to squeeze gently and kiss your wrist, then let go.

Although your task is finished, you don’t move away. Don’t look away. Can’t look away. Jihoon is just so fucking pretty, and you’re utterly mesmerised.

At first, Jihoon doesn’t even realise that you’re staring at him, he’s too focused on his game, but then he happens to glance at you and catch you looking at him. Still, he doesn’t realise that you’ve been staring at him appreciatively for a handful of minutes and just gives you a little smile and a soft kiss before turning back to his game.

But now that he’s caught you once, he seems to be very aware of your gaze on him as less than a minute later, he peeks at you and raises a questioning eyebrow. “What?” he wonders. “I’m not even being loud.”

“Do I look pissed off?” you counter, raising your own eyebrow at him.

He eyes you carefully, as if this is a trick question, before shaking his head a little as his expression begins to turn perplexed. “No.”

“Well then.”

“Right,” he murmurs and gives you one more bewildered look before turning back to his game. Though only seconds later, he’s looking back at you with a confused exhale that makes you snigger. “Okay, seriously, babe, what?”

“Can’t I admire my pretty boyfriend?”

“You’re literally insane,” he mutters, pink blooming over his cheeks as he looks back to his screen shyly.

It always amazes you that even after three years together, Jihoon still gets shy when you call him pretty, or beautiful, or gorgeous. But something about “pretty” always gets to him. He’s never admitted it, but you know he loves it when you call him pretty; but only if you mean it with everything in you. Like you do now.

“For my pretty boyfriend, yeah,” you confirm and lean forward to kiss his cheek. His shoulders lift as he tries not to giggle shyly at the praise paired with the sweet kiss.

“Ah, stop,” he complains weakly and gently nudges you backwards with his elbow, even as you whine and nuzzle under his jaw with your nose affectionately. “L-love,” he stammers, fingers fluttering over his keyboard. “I’m playing.”

“I’m not stopping you, pretty boy.” As soon as the petname is out of your lips, Jihoon whimpers softly and you know you’ve got him. “But, if you turn it off, I can show you just how fucking pretty you are to me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out and doesn’t even bother turning he game off, just closes the lid of his laptop and moves it to the empty space on his left.

“Let's go to bed. I want to lay you out and worship you,” you murmur against his skin. You feel his soft groan against your lips more than you hear it.

Knowing that he’ll follow, you get up and head to the bedroom to set the bed up; pull back the covers and adjust the pillows to put yours right in the centre.

Jihoon always prefers to lay his head on your pillow when you’re being intimate, so that he can fully immerse himself in you with your scent right by his face. It’s another thing he’s never admitted to, but you still know. You know him too well at this point to not notice these things about him.

Without a word, as soon as Jihoon is in the bedroom, he crawls up onto the bed and lays on his back to get comfortable in the centre of the bed, while you sit on the edge and watch him.

Once he’s still, you lean over with one hand resting gently on the centre of his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Comfy, my love?” you check. He hums in confirmation and nods. “Good.”

Satisfied with his position and comfort, you get onto the bed properly to kneel over him with a knee either side of his hips and work on undoing the buttons of the cardigan.

When they’re all undone and you push the material aside to bare his torso to you, Jihoon starts to sit up ready to remove it, but you tut and gently push him back down. “You look so pretty in it, baby. Keep it on so you’re surrounded by my love, hm?”

“It’s the cardigan that’s pretty,” he replies in a murmur, eyes darting down to look at the material pooling either side of his waist on the bed and still covering his arms.

“Excuse you, Lee Jihoon, how dare you insinuate that you’re not leagues prettier!” you exclaim and pinch his nipple lightly, making him yelp and lift his hands to cover his always so sensitive nipples.

“Hey!”

“Take it back!”

“You’re biased as my partner; you have to call me pretty!” he defends and bats your hands away when you reach towards his chest again.

“I called you pretty before we even started to date!” you remind and lean over him, planting your hands either side of his head. “Now, stop disrespecting the love of my life or we’re going to have issues, understand, Lee Jihoon?”

He softens at your words, your reminder of how intensely and utterly you love him. His eyes round out a little as his hands slip away from his chest. “C’mere,” he all but whispers as he reaches up to cup your face and gently pulls you into a kiss full of love and devotion; appreciation for you and an urge to show you just how much he adores you with his lips moving against yours. His tongue flits out to drag against yours slowly and spill soft moans into your mouth as his fingers press into your skin as if he wants nothing more than to imprint himself over every inch of you.

The kiss breaks with heavy breath and a handful of lingering pecks as neither of you really want to be apart; but you both need to breathe if you want to have the chance to live a long, happy, and healthy life together. Which, you both very much would love to do.

“My love?” he calls softly when you’ve both filled your lungs enough. You hum questioningly in response and lean up further to look down into his dark gaze. “Show me how pretty I am?”

A gentle smile lifts your lips as you lean down and press a lingering kiss to his lips. “Happily, my pretty boy,” you hum appreciatively against his lips before starting your work.

Jihoon’s hands fall to the bed, splaying out and curling into the sheets under him as your lips start a well-travelled path over his jaw, down his neck, across his collar bones, and to his chest.

You pass your adoration through your lips into his skin and know he can feel the intention based on the way his breath is already staggered. Little pants and puffs leave his parted lips as he tries to regulate his breathing when your love is filling his chest and making it hard to get a steady breath. But he’d never ask you to stop, would never want you to. He would choke on your love and still yearn for more.

Jihoon doesn’t think he’s a greedy man generally, but when it comes to you and your love, he always wants more. He wants all you to fill him with your love until it spills out and puddles at his feet. He knows you’d scoop it back up and gently press it back into him as much as he wants. As much as he needs.

You’re everything he’s ever wanted in a person, even before he knew what he wanted. You’re everything he never knew he needed until the first time you did this; spent so long worshipping his body until he was a shivering mess on his bed, and you curled up at his side to hold him without asking or even wanting anything in return.

He knew from that day that you’re it for him; the only person he wants to have in his bed. The only person he wants to spend his life with.

You know how to lift him up, and how to hold him down on solid ground whenever he needs it. He tries his best to return that care and attention, and he hopes that he does a good job. He’s not very good with words and actions in day-to-day life, but he can lay here when you want him to, can let you show him how pretty you find him because he knows you genuinely mean it and need him to believe it too.

He can do a lot of other things in bed too, things he knows you love, and he’s always willing to try out new things too. But that’s not what this is about. This isn’t about how much Jihoon can fuck you into the mattress or use his mouth and hands to send you to another plane of existence.

This is about showing Jihoon how pretty he truly is.

Jihoon’s breath catches when your lips brush over his left nipple, fingers of your left-hand dance over his ribs to meet his other nipple and teasingly trace featherlight around the very edge. He whimpers quietly and wriggles until you apply more pressure and stop teasing; press your thumb to one nipple and drag your tongue over the other.

He gasps and without even looking, you know he’s closed his eyes and has that little furrow in his eyebrows that he always gets when pleasure starts to build in his body.

As much as you love playing with Jihoon’s pretty nipples, you know he gets very sensitive and desperate to cum very quickly if you spend too long on them, and that’s not the aim of this today.

Slowly, you move your mouth down his torso; kissing, sucking, and licking every dip and rise of his well-toned body as you listen carefully to every breathless moan and pleasure fuelled hitch of breath coming from your boyfriend. You don’t need to pay such close attention to his breathing to know which areas are more sensitive, which areas cause him to twitch and grip the sheets tighter. But you like the noises he makes. They’re almost as pretty as he is.

When you reach the elastic of his boxers, Jihoon lets out a soft whimper, nearly desperate for you to remove the item and make him cum already. Yet, he doesn’t try to make you.

He knows you’ll take good care of him and make it worth the wait; even if his impatience wants to make him stick his own hand in his boxers to wrap around his practically throbbing length. But he’ll wait. He’ll wait as long as you make him. It’s always worth the wait; you’ve never failed to make him see stars when you do this.

He isn’t entirely surprised when you tease your fingers along the edge of the elastic, drag your tongue against the dip in his hips before moving further down. But it does make him let out a little noise of complaint that you only laugh softly at, a single exhale of air against his skin as your lips twitch up in amusement before you get back to work.

Jihoon knows you won’t be satisfied until you’ve kissed over every patch of exposed skin, until you’ve tucked bite marks into the insides of his thighs just at the hem of his boxers where only your eyes and touch are granted the privilege of knowing.

So, he waits as your lips trail his thighs.

He waits as your fingers wrap around the backs of his knees to lift his legs and allow you space to nip at the top of his calf to make his whole body twitch.

He waits as your tongue teasingly edges under the leg of his boxers to get at that tiny little hidden inch of extra skin.

He waits as your hands turn down his boxers little by little.

He waits as your mouth gives all the new skin thorough attention.

He waits as you toss his boxers aside and suck a collection of marks into the crease of his thigh while he pants and moans, hips moving and cock aching for your touch.

And finally, he’s rewarded.

Today, you don’t dance around it. Today, you think he’s really got the message. Today, the precum leaking from his cock is too pretty to resist and you lap at it shortly before abruptly taking the tip of his cock into your mouth.

Jihoon gasps sharply, body curling and shoulders coming off of the bed at the sudden wet, warmth wrap around his sensitive tip, before he drops back down with a string of curses, praises, and thanks. It makes you giggle, and the vibrations travel along his cock, where it’s sitting heavy on your tongue as you take him a little deeper, making him moan.

Finally, Jihoon loosens his grip of one hand from the sheets. His right hand unfurls to reach down and thread into your hair; to rest his palm flat on your head, even if his knuckles hurt from how tight he’s been gripping the bedding until now.

“F-fuck,” he breathes out, hips canting up to slide more of his cock into your mouth. You adjust your position to make it easier on you to take him then hum, patting his hips encouragingly with both hands. It’s been three years of this, yet he still always checks, “You sure?” he pants, peering down at you. The flat look you give him makes him chuckle before he moves his hand from your hair to caress your cheek fondly. “Alright, love, remember to pinch me if it’s too much.” You hum in agreement to the rule put in place from the very first time Jihoon fucked your mouth, and then he starts moving his hips.

Just like every time, Jihoon starts slowly, gradually moving his hips to drag his heavy cock over your tongue and tease the back of your throat without pressing into it.

Back when you first got together, you had assumed he did it for your sake; but now you know that it’s mostly for him. He doesn’t want to get overwhelmed by going faster and not appreciate the feeling of your perfect little mouth welcoming his cock in so eagerly.

The sight of your lips stretched taught around his thick cock, as he edges further into your mouth and hits your throat, makes Jihoon groan and move his hand from cupping your face and to the back of your head.

He’s not pushing you, not holding you down or pulling your head to lead you. He’s just resting there, thumb randomly stroking against your hair because Jihoon can’t stop himself from rubbing his thumb against you whenever his hand is resting against any part of you. It’s pretty much ingrained in his very being at this point; to love you in every little way he can.

“That’s it, love,” he praises thickly, still watching the way his cock slides in and out of your mouth, even if it means he’s curled up a little, using far more muscles than necessary to fuck your mouth. You can feel his thick thighs contracting under your hands with every roll of his hips and see his abs tensed with the effort of keeping his head up high enough to watch.

At times like this, ‘pretty’ doesn’t quite fit your boyfriend. He’s mind-numbingly hot and it makes you whimper a little.

This is where Jihoon thrives; where he doesn’t question your comments because the man knows he’s hot. He works hard enough on his body to know and be confident in that. His mouth turns up at one side in a smug smirk, teeth peeking out his parted lips, but he doesn’t say a word and moves his lips a little harder. A little faster. A little deeper.

The fact that he’s breaching your throat with every thrust tells you that this has all run away from you a bit. You were supposed to be showing Jihoon how pretty he is, but he’s just reminded you how ridiculously hot and muscular he is.

Abruptly, you pull off of him, pressing both hands against his hips to force him back down onto the bed.

“Babe!” he exclaims in complaint, though when you wrap your hand around his dripping cock, he slumps against the mattress and drops his hands down to his sides, splaying out and letting his eyes flutter closed.

“That’s it,” you approve and stroke your free hand over his thigh reverently, gently digging your fingers now and then to massage away the lingering tension from his efforts. “You’re very good at distracting me, pretty boy.”

“Y-you’re very good with- fuck,” he curses as your thumb passes over the tip of his cock and presses against his slit teasingly, before moving back down to work your hand up and down his slick length in the way you know he likes best.

“I’m good with fuck, good to know,” you muse, and giggle when he shoots you an unimpressed look, but it goes, and he chuckles before motioning you to come to him.

Obligingly, you lean over, grabbing his right hand as you go so that you can link your fingers together on the pillow beside his head as you hover over him. Jihoon reaches up to cup your jaw in his left hand and tug you into a deep kiss, his tongue dragging against yours and tasting the lingering flavour of his precum. He’s letting out continuous, soft, and low moans and groans as your hand continues to work over his length.

You know he has to be close, but he’s holding out, letting you bring him his orgasm at the speed you deem appropriate. It always made your heart swell knowing how much he trusts you to look after him in such a vulnerable and intimate way. If possible, you think it makes you fall in love with him a little more every time.

When his hands start to twitch and his kisses grow distracted, you know he’s teetering on the edge. It’s a sight you never want to miss, so you lean up enough to be able to look down at him, to see both his pretty, pleasure pinked face and leaking cock in one view.

If possible, you’d frame a picture of Jihoon like this and hang it on the bedroom wall to look at whenever you want. But Jihoon had refused when you asked, so you have to make do with your memories and bring him to orgasm as often as he’ll allow you to be blessed with the visage.

“Love,” Jihoon manages to get the petname out in warning amongst his panting and moaning, muscles starting to pull taut.

“I know, pretty boy. Show me,” you encourage.

Jihoon nods mindlessly a few times before he abruptly stops breathing for a second, then moans long and low as his back arches and his climax hits him. You watch entranced as his cum lands over his exposed torso, painting his stomach and chest so prettily you hope you never forget this sight.

His hair has half come out of the messy bun he’d put it in, and the clips are dangling from blonde strands beside his head, no longer keeping anything in place. His skin is splotchy; reds and pinks melting over his skin in no discernible pattern. His muscles are shuddering, trembling as pleasure courses through his body. He’s a mess. And he’s never looked prettier.

Carefully, you drag your hand over his cock to work him through his orgasm before you let go, not wanting to overstimulate him. He’s already exhausted, and you know he can’t handle being overstimulated in these sessions.

Knowing that he needs a moment to himself to gather himself, you press a kiss to his forehead before getting up to go to the bathroom and get a warm, damp cloth and a dry towel. Plus, a quick stop to the living room to grab his mostly full glass before you return.

He looks a little more like himself now and smiles tiredly at you as you place his glass down then climb up onto the bed to his side.

“How do you feel, my love?” you ask as you begin to use the damp washcloth to clean him gently.

“Good, real good,” he assures as he puts his hand on your thigh to mindlessly stroke. “You always make me feel good.”

“I’m glad I’m doing my job as your partner right then,” you return, giving him a cheeky smile that he chuckles at. “Feel pretty now?”

“The prettiest,” he confirms, making you smile a little wider, truly happy with his response. Especially as you know he means it.

“You are,” you agree and quickly pat him dry before bundling the wet cloth inside the towel and tossing them in the vague direction of the washing hamper to deal with later.

Once you’ve urged Jihoon to sit up enough to swallow down the remainder of his drink, you adjust the pillows back to normal and pull the blanket up over your bodies as you curl up against him. Jihoon hums happily as your head rests on his shoulder and his arms wrap around your body.

For a little while, you’re both quiet, contently enjoying just existing in one another’s bubble. At peace where you belong, tucked in each other’s loving embrace. You think that nothing could be better than this.

“I love you,” Jihoon says in a soft voice to not break the calm, fuzzy atmosphere, but his words are still so full of affection you can feel it overflowing and spreading over your skin. “With everything in me, I love you.”

It seems you were wrong. One thing could make this better and that’s your boyfriend speaking the depths of his adoration for you into the air and letting it settle over you both like a warm, cosy blanket.

“I love you just the same, Jihoon,” you promise and seal it with a kiss to his neck, where you can feel his pulse thrum under your lips and hope it will take the message right to his heart. You think it might, as Jihoon’s chest expands a little bigger as if his heart is momentarily swelling with the addition of your extra love, before it spreads throughout his body and he settles back down, holding you that bit tighter and pressing his own kiss to your head.

You think that really, you will never find another who can make you feel the way Jihoon does. From the very first day you met, he stole your attention and over time, your heart, and a piece of your soul to blend with his own.

Or perhaps, he always had a part, but you just didn’t know what you were missing until you met him, and he took the time and effort to show you what it means to find your other part. Your other half. Your soulmate.

You never believed in soulmates until Jihoon, always scoffed at the thought. But you think that if anyone was designed to complete your heart and soul, it’d be your pretty boy.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

#CosyHomeNet #svthub #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork #keopihausnet #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon fluff #lee jihoon smut #lee jihoon fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #woozi smut #woozi fanfic

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samaraxmorgan · 11 months ago

Text

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Scared The Life Out Of Me”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: metal-vocalist!Sukuna, fluff, you’re both basically frenemies

Word Count: 1.4k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

You and Sukuna don’t tend to be home at the same time, you’d think you would see him all the time considering, you know, you live together and all, but you honestly don’t really know all that much about him. You know he rides a motorcycle, ‘cause every time he pulls up to the apartment late at night it’s blaring loud engine wakes you up, and you know he listens to metal music because it’s blasting through his speaker in the bathroom right now as he’s taking a shower next to your room; maybe he’s going deaf, that’s probably a safe assumption considering everything around him is so loud.

Hell, everything about him is loud. Not only literally, like how he can never walk to your room to come get you and instead opts to yell across the apartment, but it’s as if every aspect of him doesn’t know subtlety. He’s always wearing over the top clothes, spiked leather jackets, torn to shreds t-shirts, jeans with patches sewn into every available spot, his pink hair and his face tattoos drawing everyone’s attention, everything is so maximalist. And his personality, you swear he’s never backed down from anything. Anything he does, he does it with passion, he does it big, and he does it bold.

Basically, you don’t know peace when he’s home, and you especially don’t know peace this morning, being rudely awoken by his blaring music in the bathroom between both of your bedrooms. Technically it’s not his fault that this overpriced apartment only has one bathroom, but for Christ’s sake it’s six in the morning, what is he even doing awake right now?

You grab your pillow from under your head and smother your face underneath it, attempting anything to be able to sleep in on your day off.

He drives me fucking insane.

The pillow definitely helps muffle the sound, but it’s not enough; and it definitely isn’t enough to cover the sudden low growling coming from the bathroom. You slowly uncover your face, brows furrowed as you’re trying to figure out what that noise is before it suddenly jumps in volume, like some kind of scream, making you nearly jump out of your bed. What the fuck is that? Did a pipe burst? Did the ceiling collapse?

It sounds like some kind of lion- or maybe a demon, horrific screaming growls coming from the next room. You slowly raise yourself off of your bed, timidly stepping out of your room and taking a few steps to stand outside of the bathroom door. It’s definitely coming from in there, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to have any reaction to it. Surely there’s no way he doesn’t hear that, right?

Oh my god, he really is going deaf isn’t he?

“Sukuna?!” You yell from the other side of the door, the low growling sound abruptly stops.

“What?” He yells back, he sounds annoyed. Annoyed? You’re trying to save him from a lion that just fell through the ceiling, or… something, and he’s seriously annoyed?

“What the fuck is that noise?” You can hear the shower stop running and his music shut off, after a moment of waiting the door swings open. Sukuna stands before you, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his pink bangs hanging over his eyes, dripping water down his cheeks.

“What? You don’t like it?” He grins at you before turning to face the mirror, swiping his palm over the fogged up glass to create a clearing to see his reflection in.

“It sounded like something was dying, please tell me that wasn’t you.” You step into the steamy bathroom, leaning your back against the wall and watching his grin grow wider through his reflection in the blurry mirror.

Sukuna grabs a clean towel from the floor, rubbing it over his hair and down his face, his voice muffled through the fabric, “I was practicing.”

He drops the towel from his face and drapes it around the back of his neck, glancing back at you in the mirror as he combs his hair out of his face with his fingers, he bites his lip to try and hide the snarky grin spreading across his face when he sees the confused look you give him, “Practicing for what? Are you auditioning to play a monster in a play or something?”

“Oh please,” He rolls his eyes and turns to face you, you’re not fast enough to catch your gaze before it drifts down to the droplets of water running down his tattooed abs and he simply snaps his fingers in front of your face to grab your attention back, seemingly unfazed by you accidentally checking him out, “I’m in a band, believe it or not I do the vocals.”

A faint blush started to paint your cheeks, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the way your jaw drops in mock horror, “Oh my god, that was you singing?”

“Oh fuck off,” He huffs out a short laugh, “I’m in a metal band, I actually scream.” He grabs the towel from around his neck, tossing it over your head and pushing past you to walk to his room.

“Hey! Asshole,” You tear the towel down from your face, letting it plop onto the tile at your feet, “You can’t just scream first thing in the morning! You scared the fuck out of me!”

He turns around to face you, wrapping a large hand around the top of the doorframe and leaning his side against it, “Consider us even then, you got me real good when you woke me up to you screaming Bloody Mary over a little fuckin’ spider.”

“That was different, I was scared! That’s a normal reason to scream!”

“Yeah?” He leans down to be eye level with you, speaking in a mocking tone, “Well I saw how much you shed all over the shower and was horrified.”

“You’re such a dick,” You turn to pull the shower curtain back, “There’s not even- oh, well, there’s like two strands, god forbid.”

He grins as he stands back at his full height, taking a few steps back into the hall and opening up the door to his room, you quickly follow behind him, looking up towards him, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re in a band?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping the door open as he walks into his dimly lit room, “You never asked.”

You stand in his doorway, peering around his room. The walls are covered in posters and some most likely stolen street signs, but aside from the eclectic decor it’s surprisingly neat, “Is your music any good?”

He opens his closet door and then turns his head to face you, speaking to you in a monotone voice, “Can I put some clothes on or do you wanna talk to me with my cock out?”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you toss your hands up into the air defensively, turning around to give him some privacy, “My bad.”

You can hear Sukuna chuckle behind you and the quiet sounds of fabric moving around his skin, “Is it good? Well, you’d probably think it sounds like… what did you say? A dying animal?”

You grin and bite the inside of your cheek, “A dying animal or maybe the horrific screams of the unknown, either one.”

He lets out a satisfied hum, “Horrific screams of the unknown is a good album name, I’ll have to write that down.”

“I’ll be expecting royalties.”

“Don’t expect shit,” You suddenly feel a wet towel smack against your back, making you jump and yell out in surprise, “Brat.”

“Ew!” You turn around to find him standing right behind you, smug grin plastered on his face and both of his hands shoved into the pockets of the black sweatpants he threw on, opting out of putting on a shirt and instead leaving his tattooed torso on full display.

“Hm? Thought you’d want that,” He snaps his fingers in front of your face again, “Freak.”

Oh, oh he knows what he’s doing. You didn’t even realize how you were looking at him before he caught you, but it’s not like it’s your fault that he looks like that.

You let out a groan and turn around to walk down the hall to your room, “I’m going back to bed.”

He really drives me insane more than I thought he would.

Little do you know, he’s thinking a similar thought about you.

A/N: THIS is the one I intended to be the first part before I got too excited and wrote the one where y’all quarantine together instead, but shhhh we can just pretend this one takes place before that!! Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#aaaaAAAAAA sorry it’s been like two weeks asksnans #ya girl (gender neutral) has been BUSY with irl stuff #but i had today off and was determined to write!!#my wriitng #nav ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ryomen Sukuna #Sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #my writing #roommate Sukuna au

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suni-writings · 1 year ago

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Running out of time.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

When two people who didn't know how to love met at the perfect timing to ruin each other.

part 2 | part 3

wc: 2.3k

(content warning: angst, troubled relationships, situationship)

“I can't do this anymore.”

The words escaped her lips before even she could fully process them. It was almost a whisper — a sign of utter defeat, of how much she had struggled and how much she could not take another second of being with him. There was no amount of affection that could mend what the situation had done to her, no amount of luck that could change their fate and, most definitely, no amount of effort he could have shown at that moment that would make her change her mind. It was too late for anything.

If he had listened to her attempts of communication, if he did not dismiss her feelings, if he took her more seriously… A series of ifs that only involved things he could have done.

She had tried to stay with him as long as she could, even if she felt, from the start, that she was doomed from the second her heart beat a little faster at the thought of him. After all, who would hate themselves enough to fall for Jude Bellingham, knowing his reputation, knowing the amount of women he had around on their knees, knowing him?

She thought she knew him, she really did. At least, better than others. They had met at a strange moment in their lives, where a relationship would never fit. That was never what they wanted.

Jude had recently gotten out of a relationship, whereas she was avoiding any sort of relationship for more than a year. Each one had their motivations, and one thing was clear: no relationship was a rule.

So, she didn’t mean to when she realized she was falling for him. In fact, it was nerve-wrecking — constantly beating herself up and trying to smack some sense into her own head; anything that would bring her back to reality. And like that, without knowing her feelings were reciprocated, she created a distance between them, leaving room only for her anxiety.

As her sorrow eyes met his desperate ones, she remembered. Flashes of how they ended up like that flooding into her head without her permission.

“So,” Jude said once. They were at her place — something they used to do quite often. He didn’t like bringing attention to himself and he wasn’t one to take any woman to his place, considering how the press could be if someone saw.

She didn’t know much about Jude. All she knew was that he was a good kisser, a nice company and someone that would provide her aftercare. She couldn’t ask for much more than that.

But one thing she did know — he was confident. Not that she wasn’t, but he was cocky. And, judging by the way he nervously held his thumb, she knew something wasn’t right.

“So?” She asked, tilting her head, looking at him gently.

“I—” he gulped and let out a nervous chuckle. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I know we said it was only a casual thing, but I’ve always been a man that liked, you know, talking to more than one woman.”

She nodded, furrowing her eyebrows, trying to predict what he was going to say.

“What I want to say is—” he took a deep breath. “I don’t feel like talking to any other woman but you. I haven’t, actually, since this whole arrangement started. I know it’s only been a month, but—”

She laughed and he raised her eyebrows. She held his hand with an affection she hadn’t shown yet.

“Jude, it’s okay. I haven’t been with anyone else or even did as much as looking at anyone else ever since I’ve been with you,” she reassured him.

“Thank God.” He sighed happily, relieved.

The first and only rule was already broken.

“I can’t do this, you know. Can’t have a relationship. It’s not your fault, I just can’t do this sort of commitment at this point of my life.” Jude said while looking at her. She didn’t know where that came from.

They were peacefully taking a walk on a park close to her place. The cold breeze and the way his words somehow felt like a dagger made her shiver and cross her arms, not looking at him.

“I’ve never—” she tried to say. “We were never—”

What could she say? That they were nothing? That wasn’t the truth.

“I’ve never asked a relationship from you. I don’t even— want a relationship. We had talked about that since the beginning,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows. Did she do something that made him think otherwise?

“Let’s be honest with each other for a second.” He said and stopped her, turning her around to look at him “This whole thing is running out of our control. I can’t do this. There’s no way I can have a serious relationship, one with actual commitment. I need to stop this before it gets to a point that I’ll hurt you.”

She swallowed. Despite her best efforts to hide how that hurt, maybe she was giving it away.

She didn’t want a relationship. They were in the same page.

But she was never the one to insist. Never the one to run after someone. In fact, her entire life, all she did was running away.

That’s all she knew how to do.

So, she just accepted it.

She sighed when she heard the knock on her door, her face twisted with annoyance. For some reason, Jude decided he wanted to see her and asked her to dress up nicely — something he knew she always did, but maybe he just wanted her to create some expectation and, perhaps, not dislike him as much as she was disliking him at that moment.

When she opened the door, he was standing there with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and in a perfect tuxedo. She would’ve sighed, if it wasn’t for the last conversation they had.

“You think you can buy me flowers and what? Problem solved?” She asked, not bothering to hide how much his presence maddened her.

“No. I know you better than that,” Jude said carefully, knowing he had to think well before speaking if he wanted to still be in her life. “But I can still buy you flowers, right? I know you like peonies. And I also like to think that’s a decent way to greet a woman you’d like to take on a date.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“On a date?” She asked in disbelief. “I thought dates were too couple-ish for you.” She mocked him.

He sighed deeply.

“I was wrong, alright?” He said and run a hand through his hair. “Well, not that wrong. The situation is getting out of hand and we’re breaking every rule we made up, but you’re right, this isn’t like I’m dating you. Still, I’d love to have you on my life and for things to be… the way they were before I fucked up.”

She sighed, crossing her arms.

“My ex showed up that day and I just got nervous; I think.” He looked down. “I had never liked someone this fast, you know? I don’t know how it happened to us. But when she showed up, everything I was afraid of suddenly came back and I just— almost ruined us. Whatever this is.” He looked at her. “But you're not her, and I like you so, so fucking much. Can I, please, have the honor of a second chance?”

“It’s the only one you’re having.” She said as she grabbed the bouquet. “Nice choice of flowers.”

He opened the sweetest, most genuine smile.

“Things are so much easier when I’m with you. I wish it was always like this. That I could take you everywhere,” Jude said.

They were stargazing in her backyard, laying on the soft grass. His head was on her chest as she caressed his hair. They didn’t need to look at each other and he didn’t need to see her eyes to know how she felt — he could hear her heartbeat. It was more than enough.

He was going through a rough patch; she knew that much. And she didn’t know how to fix it, how to help him — it was out of her reach to do such a thing and he would hate if she even tried. His pride always took a tool on him, used to suffering in silence.

“I know.” She sighed softly. “I like being with you, if that helps. You’re my favorite person to talk to.”

“I hope I am,” he chuckled softly. “That’s why we’re sort of together, right?”

“Right,” she nodded. Things seemed so easier and intimate when they were like that. She felt his soft locks against her fingers and sighed once again. “But only sort of together.” She teased him.

“You’re annoying,” he joked.

“Touché.”

“Why are you so mad at me?!” Bellingham exclaimed, trying to run after her as she made her way out of the nightclub. He tried to reach for her arm and called out her name. “Stop, please.”

She stopped. Why was she still agreeing with anything he told her to do, anyway? Even when she couldn’t think straight, even when she was tipsy from all the alcohol she had consumed. Since when he became such a strong influence in her life that she would just submit to what he said? Why didn’t she leave?

Why didn’t she run away?

She was so good at that.

“I just—” She looked up, trying to find a way to put her words together and make it make sense. “I hate seeing you surrounded by so many women. And it’s so clear how much you enjoy the attention.”

“I don’t—”

“You literally left me standing to go talk to whoever that woman was.”

“You’re exaggerating and you don’t want to listen to me. Why don’t you just breathe for one second?” He asked her. “Look, I might enjoy the attention, but I wouldn’t leave you standing anywhere. I told you, when this whole thing started, that you’d never have to worry about me hitting on someone in front of you.”

And, to her, it felt like they had taken every step back. He didn’t mean for his words to come out like that, really. He knew what she had gone through in her relationships and how much anxiety she could feel from liking someone. He wanted to reassure her and was managing to do the opposite.

“Yeah, the same way we told each other this would be nothing serious,” she scoffed. “And it really seemed like you were flirting with her. How come when it’s with me, I have to chill and take a deep breathe, but when you’re feeling like that, I have to keep explaining myself?”

He opened up his mouth, but no words left. She knew he’d say she was making a fuss over nothing.

“Good night, Bellingham,” she said before leaving the club, not bothering to look back.

That same day, thousands of pictures of him in the club came out. He wasn’t doing anything, but her heart broke a little bit more from how many women surrounded him.

He didn’t bother to explain.

In fact, he had ignored her for two weeks.

That’s how they ended up here.

“You’re joking, right?” Jude asked, though he knew her enough to know if she was bluffing or not. “I just told you all my problems and— that I need a break from us. I need to focus on other aspects of my life, I can’t afford the luxury of having space for anything romantic.”

She laughed dryly.

“And what am I supposed to do, huh? Shove my feelings right up my ass just because you want me to wait for you? Or even worse, be your friend?” She didn’t mean to sound that aggressive, but the two weeks of no contact were more than enough for her anxiety to overcome every good memory they had and replace them with thoughts that he didn’t even really care.

“I’m not asking to be your friend! Jesus, you’re so complicated!” Jude exclaimed.

“I'm not complicated!” She argued back. “I’m just tired of having to put your feelings on top of mine, of prioritizing you instead of myself. I know where this ends and I won’t submit myself to this. Not to this, not to you, not with you.”

“Please,” he sounded desperate. Pathetically desperate. He held her arm. “Don’t do this to me. Wait for me. I will come back, I swear to God.”

“And put my life on hold because you want me to?” She asked, looking up at him, showing how hurt she was by the whole situation.

“What if I’m losing the love of my life over something I cannot control?” He asked her in a whisper, his brown eyes meeting hers.

It was his last attempt, that was for sure. But he forgot just how good she was at walking away. Maybe it was her fault for always finding some excuse for his attitudes or even for forgiving him, in first place. Maybe she should've walked away when she realized she was catching feelings. Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed him a second chance.

A series of maybes that only involved things she could have done.

But one thing was for sure: she wasn’t going to break herself over anyone ever again. Despite how much she liked him, despite the part of her that was willing to wait — she had been through too much to do that to herself again. She didn’t know if it was worth it, not anymore.

“I’m not the love of your life, Jude.” She said and did what she was the best at: walking away.

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woollypoison · 3 months ago

Text

High-definition closure

Male reader x Itzy Chaeryeong a/n: a little mini-story I got challenged to in between bigger stories. I wanted to limit myself to 1k words. I failed. Word count: 1.1k

Chaeryeong's mascara was already ruined when she got here, but if she were to ask you, you'd say you preferred it this way. You only wish it were you that created the black streaks dragging down her cheeks. She hasn’t bothered to fix it. Maybe she thinks it completes the look—like she’s some princess that has just been cursed, like it's a sign for other men to ask her what's wrong before falling into her jaws. Hints of plum and chamomile stick to her, but the scent is mixed with the salt of dried tears and the faintest trace of vanilla vodka, her favorite alcohol.

She's wearing this loose off-shoulder sweater, just oversized enough to look careless, like she pulled it on without thinking, but you know better. The sleeves slip past her wrists, swallowing her hands when she lets them, but right now they’re bunched up, exposing the sharp angle of her collarbone. A short skirt clings to her waist, stopping high enough to show off soft, bare thighs—bare except for the black thigh-highs hugging her legs, the only thing about her outfit that looks deliberately put together.

She's a frantic storm of emotions, and there's nothing slow about it. Her hand around your wrist jams downwards, slipping underneath her skirt, sliding lace to the side, pressing your fingers against wet heat with a knowing little smirk. The first sensible thing she's done since getting here and screaming about her now ex.

"Feel that?" she purrs, voice silky, sultry and smokey bravado. "You should really take advantage of that while you still can."

You exhale through your nose, noncommittal, but you don't pull away. Instead, you press your fingers into her, feel the way she clenches around them, her walls hot and her smirk turning needy. Her whole body shivers at the touch as a breath gets forcefully ejected out of her. It's nice—good, even—until she ruins it all by opening her mouth again.

"God, he was such an asshole," she groans, head tipping back. "You know what he said when he dumped me? That I was too much. Too needy. Like, what the fuck does that even mean?"

You huff, pushing two fingers inside her, making her gasp, and not in surprise. "I don’t know. Sounds like he had a point."

Her eyes snap to yours, mouth parting in indignation. "Excuse me?"

"You’ve been talking about him for ten minutes," you say, tone flat. "While I’m literally inside you. He might’ve had a point."

She scoffs, lifting herself just enough to slam down against your hand, making a point of grinding into your palm. "Yeah? And yet here you are, knuckle-deep and not stopping."

"Doesn’t mean I wanna hear about him."

“Then shut me up,” she challenges you audaciously, the taunt accentuated by the rolling of her hips against your hand. “You’re man enough for that, aren’t you? Making one sad little girl shut the fuck up?” Your thumb presses into her clit with force like a warning. Her breath stutters at the figurative growl you gave her, fingers tightening against your shoulders. “Better?” you ask, bored. You keep working her, fingers curling, thumb circling, taking your time with it. Her thighs start to shake, her body pressing harder against yours. She’s wet, practically dripping, and you could push her over the edge right now if you wanted to. But she just does not know when to shut the fuck up. And maybe that is your fault.

“God,” she begins, but it’s not a moan. “I can’t believe how much time I wasted on that asshole,” she rambles on, frustrated herself and frustrating you. "Three years. Three years of listening to his bullshit, letting him act like I was the problem. Like I should’ve been grateful for the bare minimum."

“Uh-huh.” Your eyes roll back in annoyance, and you make another attempt at making hers do the same but in ecstasy. “Like, seriously, you wouldn’t believe—” she cuts herself off as a third finger of yours slips inside her, sucking in a breath as sharp as her complaints. “Fuck. Okay. That’s—okay.” “You were saying?” you prompt, but regret it the moment you do. Shouldn’t even give her a chance to talk about this bullshit. She glares back at you, the dark in her eyes meshing with the black of her messy make-up, but she doesn’t answer. She exhales, heaving, rising and falling on your fingers as she presses her chest against yours, finding her phone she tossed somewhere near you earlier. You feel her fingers tap at the screen before she grins down at you.

"I just had the best idea."

You already know it’s not. "Doubt it."

"We should send him a picture. You know, show him what he’s missing."

You blink. "You wanna send your ex a dick pic."

"No, no. A me-with-your-dick pic. Very different. Tasteful. Artistic. Guaranteed to make him angry."

You sigh, slipping your fingers out of her, resting your hand on her hip instead. "That’s fucking stupid."

"That’s closure."

"That’s unhinged."

She grins. “When a girl just got dumped, those two are basically the same thing.” There’s no energy left inside your soul to argue with her. She smirks like she’s won, then slides down, settling between your legs. You watch, half-lidded, as she presses a teasing kiss just above the tip of your cock, phone in one hand, camera pointed down.

"You’re serious about this?" you ask, amused despite yourself.

"Dead serious." She kisses the tip lightly, just enough to make your jaw tighten. "Think about it—he gets a notification, opens it up, sees me like this, working a cock that's at least twice his size. Tell me that wouldn’t ruin his fucking night."

"Or get you blocked immediately."“I can live with that as long as he sees it first. Besides, you’re doing a lot of complaining for someone who’s getting his dick kissed by a girl as pretty as me.”

She’s clearly using you, but the thought doesn’t upset you. You lean back against the couch, thinking this relationship should be a two way street, fingers gracing the side of her face, threading into her hair.

“If you’re sure about making him mad,” you murmur, grasping handfuls of her hair on the back of her head, “you should commit fully and do it properly.”

And then you push her down, the full length of your cock disappearing into the warmth of her throat just as the camera shutter clicks and her mouth sputters, gagging as you push her further than her ex ever reached.

#chaeryeong smut #itzy smut #chaeryeong #Itzy Chaeryeong smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #smut

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lohotine · 5 months ago

Text

``Truth is the most important virtue.``

Pure Vanilla x Reader

CW; Some religious tones (brief mention of the existence of a god, comparing Pure Vanilla to an angel), Disturbing discriptions (gore, though only as a discptor of how the reader feels.) Angst, unorganized writing

Adorned in whites akin to glistening stars, accompanied by the warmest of jasmine and the brightest of gold;

With every breath comes a feint melody and a silent song only angels would be able to hear.

Many have asked themselves;

What is divinity?

And as he stands before you, otherworldly and opulent, you begin to whisper, and one word falls from your lips;

"This."

A being, mayhap too pure for this world, gifting everyone the ultimate acuity.

Are people deserving of him?

No matter what your answer is, he remains here, giving his heart out to anyone and everyone, whether they are in need of it or not.

His voice; a choir

His touch; soft, as his fingers gently cup your face. They are like feathers, and they gently wipe away your tears.

Tears that look like pearls, or maybe even diamonds, as they prick the corners of your eyes.

You think it ironic how the gods created tears to be made out of both water and salt;

Two things that suposedly give life to people.

Yet, you are not sad

Far from it, actually.

Because you are with him.

And you ask;

Would you let me dwell forever by your side?

And though Pure Vanilla would hate to break the heart you've so graciously shown him; he simply cannot accept it.

A prayer you hope with the entirety of your being- body and soul and mind- that he'd be able to return.

To not love you fully would be like not loving you at all; at least in his eyes.

And he can not devote himself to you in the way you would for him.

Because he does not want the others to be dammed simply because he loves you.

And so he responds;

I'm sorry, but I can't love you in the way you hope for me to.

And because Pure Vanilla loves everyone; he can't love anyone.

Because Pure Vanilla's heart belongs to everyone: and so at the same time, no one in particular.

So you wish; so desperately and fully, that he would lie to you just this once.

So that when it begins to weep, and so that when it begins to bleed; it may hurt just a little less.

To maybe wrap your heart in the softest silk, or maybe even satin if that's what he'd prefer, and then place it apun a glistening, marble pedestal;

But he would never grant you even the smallest lie, and in turn, the smallest bit of respite.

After all, is he not supposed to be virtuous?

So instead, he holds you close, and you can't help but think;

Why must he be so kind, even when he brutally destroys you?

Why must this angel smile at you while liquidating your heart?

And he whispers into your ears about how sorry he is for not being able to love you.

but all you can hear is how he doesn't love you.

And it's not his fault.

Yet, knowing that it's yours doesn't feel any better.

Pure Vanilla continues to speak-- apologizing--yet his words still sting like that of one thousand arrows grazing your arms and legs.

How you yearn for him to be able to heal these pains, too!

But how can he? When they're not really there?

How can something that hurts so much not really be there?

So your tears continue to fall.

How weak you have become! How sorrowful...

And yet, these tears, he wipes away too.

As if they were never there?

And with those tears, you wish he'd wipe away the emotions you've held for him.

As if they were never there?

Would forgetting those emotions- your love for him- truly be worth it?

And when you listen once more; he is still expressing his guilt.

And you have no doubt that he is being truthful when he says he is sorry.

After all, he would never speak anything that isn't the truth!

And sometimes, that pains you more than if he would just lie.

When he slams you into the ground, crushing your skull and mind, and shreds your heart into small bits of blood and flesh and tears and love, but you know it's true when he says he doesn't want to;

That truth doesn't make the wounds hurt any less.

Yet despite this; Pure Vanilla believes, without even a fraction of a doubt;

That truth is the most important virtue.

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1-800-local-slut · 2 months ago

Note

Jenny bestie hear me out . Reader with the personality and powers of shadow the hedgehog 👀. So she would be an anti hero that refuses to work with anyone but has that romantic tension with main mark grayson . While invincible is trying to convince her to turn over to being a full hero , cecil and the guardians are trying to take out reader but are always failing to do so cause ain't no way they're reaching the ultimate life forms level of power 🤭 . So like basically like headcanons of mark trying to get reader to turn over to the good side while she's basically trying to kill the guardians and cecil losing his mind over not being able to control her .

Hiiii! I loved this, thank you for the request! I hope you can forgive the delay, I've been crazy busy but I'm trying my best lol. Anyways, this is going to be a mix of angst but mostly lighthearted cuz I've been writing way too much serious stuff later. Thank you for the request <3

Warnings: making out, slight angst, homicide attempts, fluff and good vibes, you've literally never been normal a day in your life

Note: Amber and Mark broke up before he goes to see the Thraxan's because I say this all the time: man, stealing is never the move. Also, you were created in a lab here (hence the whole ultimate life form thing) so you don't know everything about yourself, but you escaped to live your own life.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

📯 You and Mark know y'all wanna make out, it would be safer for everyone if you just did it

📯You don't get along with anyone. You're more of a reluctant ally. You help when it serves you. Mark helps when he's nearby, he's gotten better at letting other heroes handle it.

📯But when you do stir up trouble, Mark unfortunately is who they call to try and arrest you. He always fails, of course. He can't physically catch you, and when he does grab you by pure luck and speed then you get terrifyingly strong and put belt to ass. You don't even have to fight him all the time; you just always end up doing so

📯Lowkey they call Mark because the GDA knows you always get distracted by Mark even if you don't know

📯 You can literally escape at anytime but the opportunity to be close to him (even if it’s in a battle) makes your heart beat just a bit harder for some reason

📯 The trash talk? Oh my god, it's amusing to you both and you both like it. Your mouth is more reckless though, so you tend to say crazier shit than him. He loves hates when you explain why he can't beat you for the tenth time in a month.

"You ready to go to jail?!"

"Fuck you, you can't arrest me! I'm the ultimate life form!"

📯 The news is sick of y'all. The Guardians are sick of y'all. The GDA is sick of y'all. William and Eve are sick of y'all.

📯 When you two do get to team up, you both know you like it. You like working with someone who won't sell you out. Mark just likes you. But the other thing is, you only talk to Mark.

📯 When you all went to Mars, you kept your words minimum. Not like your usual sly comments. Mark was so ashamed to realize that he liked you not giving the other heroes the time of day. You kept everything to a brief five words or a 'hm.'

📯 You go back and forth with Mark, and Mark only. Like that’s the only person whose had a kind of conversation with you

📯 Your only actual issue with Mark is that he’s insisting on seeing the good in you. You aren’t exactly an evil person. You’re just more for following your own rules, and you also don’t trust the government.

“See? You can be good! You’re really good at it.”

As you’re carrying a group of wailing and coughing children out of a burning building.

“Their children.” Was all you said, and that was explanation enough.

📯 You don’t really like people. You don’t play nice with others. It’s not exactly your fault. But you tolerate Mark

📯He eventually is able to get you to not mind being around others. You even said 'hello' when walking into a room, but you blamed on being in a good mood for once.

📯 Slowly but surely you two were making progress. Baby steps as they say. You sat next to Rex one time and he went entirely still to avoid somehow irritating you into getting up. You're kind of like an unfriendly cat but when you are friendly it's the best feeling ever

📯 You're even getting along better with Cecil!

📯 You stop just walking out when he's speaking to you

"Piss off. I don't follow your orders."

Before you're skating out the door.

📯 Now you let him talk and just ignore whatever he's saying. Literally everything was great-ish. You and Mark weren't attempting to kill each other every other week; he's kind of like your safe space when you don't want to hang around randoms anymore

📯 Until you had some personal business to attend too, which led to you getting shot with a giant laser. But you're the ultimate life form so that beam felt like a mild sunburn to you.

📯 You aren't stupid, obviously Cecil fired that canon at you. He swore it was an accident "we weren't trying to hit you!" but that didn't really matter to you when he was dangling over the edge of a building

📯 That homicide attempt was an accident. But you don't take threats to your life lightly. It did nothing to you, except singed a few of the red streaks in your dark curls, but you still didn't appreciate it. PLUS the blue haired priss who followed you all the way from your home escaped with her life. You were going to have to see her again thanks to Cecil's interference. Safe to say, you were not pleased

📯 You stopped any type of heroism. Not because of a personal vendetta against the people of Earth, but you just couldn't trust it. Everything was a set up to you. You even stopped talking to Mark.

📯 The man was hurt. He couldn't even call you, he just missed you. You weren't his girlfriend. He shouldn't want to see you, shouldn't want you sitting next to him on a roof top after an arrest. He shouldn't want you the way he does, but absence makes the heart grow fonder.

📯 He missed you. He thought about stopping by your apartment. He thought about appearing in front of you under the cover of darkness and telling you how he feels. But you've been so on edge lately that he knew the second you laid eyes on him things would be different.

📯 Your sharp eyes wouldn't soften just a bit like they usually do. Instead, they would go wide with rage, you'd think it was a set up. He doesn't know your favorite food, your favorite color, he doesn't even know why you call yourself the ultimate lifeform.

📯 But Mark does know you. He knows how when something gets in the way of what you believe, you don't take kindly to it. He knows you stand for what you think is right. Knows how your nose scrunches just a bit when you think something is ridiculous. He knows your beautiful, and knows you know that your beautiful. The way your ruby irises follow your own reflection in mirrors is telling.

📯 And he knows after almost a year of knowing you, when you get paranoid or antsy it's best to leave you alone. So he does, he leaves you to your own devices for you to cool off. You clearly need sometime but you aren't getting that since your back on enemy terms with the government.

📯 It also didn't help when you caught Cecil spying on you, in revenge you attempted to curb stomp him, but Immortal decided that was the time to run a fade. He was quickly silenced, along with Black Samson. Mark's never seen someone use another person as a bat to slap another person, but he was impressed

📯 The girl he liked was currently at war with the government and his friends. Mark was choosing to stay out of it, plus he had to run. Off to save the Thraxans BUT those two months of absence were not fun for you. He saw you before he left though

"Why would I care that you're leaving?" You asked, brushing through your wet curls and spraying leave in conditioner into the plats. He watched as you used your fingers to distribute a hair mask through your hair and rustled through your hair products for a scrunchie.

Mark sighed, leaning against the fire escape of your apartment. For a crap hole building, you fixed it up really nice. It was a crap hole, but you were a pretty good thief. Good enough to steal appliances and furniture enough to cover up the state of the house. He's pretty sure you let your landlord keep living as a form of rent.

He was standing out there, under the stars outside your bedroom window. The brick and glass separating you two felt almost poetic. He would've stayed all night if there wasn't a spaceship waiting for him just five miles away.

For once you were at peace, and you looked so beautiful just calmly sitting and doing your hair.

"I don't know. I know things aren't great between us right now. But I...I don't know. It didn't feel right for me to leave without telling you."

You paused, biting your lip as your red eyes glanced down at the vanity you were sat at. For a moment he imagined you two were different people. Not Invincible and the anti-hero fans have taken to calling 'Streaker' (a name you have no solid opinions on), but Mark and the woman he wants to be with.

"When are you coming back?"

A beat of silence hung through the night. Wind pushed Mark's hair around his head, and the wind pushed through your window and rustled some random receipts on your dresser.

"Soon."

The sharpness of your eyes glanced over to Mark through your mirror, and you swallowed hesitantly. Eyelids fluttered shut before you recomposed yourself like nothing happened despite your obvious dissatisfaction with the lack luster answer.

Your fingers now brushed through a red portion of your hair, applying the cream to it before you finished the final braid and placed a shower cap over your head.

"Try not to die in space."

📯 Mark knew you'd get into it 10x worse with the GDA and everyone. No matter how much they insisted the murder attempt wasn't on purpose, you insisted they should've minded the business that pays them.

📯 Tells Cecil not to provoke you in the meantime.

📯 Mark was right, things got worse. You almost had to move due to how much they were spying on you. The other heroes did not like you; you were a loose cannon to them.

📯 You don't miss Mark (you run by his house sometimes on the way home just to see if he's back, you live the entire opposite direction)

📯 The only person who kind of understood you was gone. 'Soon', turned into two months. Why should you care? Mark wasn't your boyfriend.

📯 You've never imagined what it would be like to wake up next to him. Never thought about ditching all the bullshit and living somewhere peaceful together. Never had a strange dream about having a baby together (or a nightmare where he cheated on you)

📯 OH MY GOD YOU'D FLIP YOUR SHIT IF HE 'CHEATED' ON YOU

📯 You're 100% the jealous type over a man who you aren't with. You aren't the type to purposely disrupt his relationships. That's desperate and it NEVER gave that. But you smile just a bit when he fights with his girlfriend before they broke up.

📯 You want Mark to be happy of course. But if it can't be with you, then is he truly happy? You feel bad, it's selfish and you know it. You can't help it though. You two can't be together. You go after something when you want it, but you know who and what you are. You liked Mark too much to risk bruising your ego over a rejection that big

📯 You woke up pissed off for a week, you had a dream he hooked up with some alien broad with three boobs while he was up there and that's what was taking him so long.

📯It didn't matter how much you steeped in your own rage; you couldn't exactly yell at him. And you wouldn't have the right to do so either.

📯You were gonna beat his ass when he got back, how could he disappear for two months? Didn't he think about you? How could he leave you on this planet with a bunch of losers and people you hate for so long? Didn't he know your thread of self-control was already weak? Didn't he know he kept you under control? Didn't he know you needed him??? How could he! (you're literally delusional but it's okay because Mark is delulu over you too)

📯You're mad until you physically see him. You totally planned on whopping his ass for cheating on you in your dream and leaving for two months. But when you saw him, all you could do was nod in acknowledgment of his safe return. In your language you basically just hugged him

📯He appears on your balcony again. But this time things are different. You ushered him into your window.

He looks perfectly out of place. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he stood on the hard floor of your bedroom.

"I'm back."

"I can see."

Then nothing. Mark took the silence to notice something: he never realized that you were really soft on the inside. Well he knew. But right now, watching you paint your nails and inspect your toes, he was coming to an understanding. You were a normal person sometimes. And Mark was attracted to that version of you too.

"Listen, I'm sorry I was gone so long."

He wanted you to be mad at him. To grab him and yell at him just how badly you missed him. He found himself thinking of you every day, dreaming of you every night. You haunted his every moment. The memories of simple conversations, the few times you violated one another's personal space.

In addition to mentally missing you, he had been bone crushingly sad which he feels is fair considering everything he went through in a simple two months. So late at night, he imagined seeking comfort from your body.

Soft touches, eyes meeting, maybe a cheeky grin from you, something more.

"I kept myself busy." you informed him while you took a bite out of your hamburger that sat in a wrapper next to you after capping your nail polish, dragging him out of his dreams of you.

"I heard all about it. You didn't need to blow up that GDA truck you know, I don't know how you accomplished that."

You shrugged but he could see the devastatingly attractive glimmer of pride in your eyes.

"Like I said, I kept myself busy."

📯Now y'all know I'm a hopeless romantic at heart. So, I want to talk about the real romance between you two

📯Mark watches your back. He knows he can't hug you or catch you if you're falling. He can't even imagine you initiating a hug. He's not a touchy guy anyways so it's okay with him that you aren't hanging off of him. But Mark always will have your back

📯He knows you're the ultimate life form even if he has no clue what it means. But he doesn't miss the look in your eyes when he blocks a boulder flying at your head.

📯You get him gifts that aren't gifts. Essentials we'll say. He's bleeding heavily from the nose? You're stuffing tissue up his nose (albeit a bit roughly) before going back to whatever you were doing. He's hungry on a mission? You'll share your last snack with him. He's acting like a man dying of thirst? You're grabbing water from the closest convenience store and handing it to him soundlessly

📯You aren't great with Oliver at any age. When he's a baby you don't know what do with him, he seems to think your glowing red eyes are squishy toys. When he's toddler, he's a smartass and you're not loving it. But you do care for him, you just don't know how to show it.

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Oliver!"

"They're in my head, there's nothing wrong with them." You dismissed him while fighting a scowl. For a five-year-old he has a lot of question.

📯"Why are you so fast? Are you faster than Mark? Are you faster than my dad? Do you have a dad? Mark never said you have a dad. Where is your dad? Are you a mom? Are you and Mark dating? Have you two mated yet? How old are you? Can you teach me how to be fast? I'll teach you how to fly! Can you fly? What exactly are you?"

📯Before Mark or Debbie tell him to knock it off. You answer most of his questions though. A few you don't exactly know the answer to, so you just do your best with him.

📯Debbie doesn't know if she likes you. You're not Mark's girlfriend but she isn't blind, she knows her child.

📯The second he sees a beautiful black woman who would rather die before being walked over he's gone.

📯She doesn't judge you; she just can't really get a read on you since you rarely speak. Mark insists you're just nervous about meeting new people. You speak when spoken too but even then, it's hard to get a real sentence out of you.

📯BUT that all changes when you get hit with a car for Mark. A literal car flying at you through the air. You could've dodged it, sure. But you pushed Mark out of the way and the car landed on you with only your skates visible. Your legs flailed around comically, and you angrily told Mark to watch out for himself when he freed you a second later

📯Any woman who is willing to take a hit like that for Mark is alright in her book. She wants Mark to man up and ask you out already.

"She got hit by a car for you!"

"Mom, it's not like that. I don't want to freak her out, of course I like her but..."

"Don't be a scaredy cat Mark!"

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

📯Okay now for the real juicy stuff: the relationship

📯You confess to Mark one day. Neither of you can get drunk, your body burns through it too fast, and Mark's body will heal him quicker than he can blink.

📯You're comfortable together. Comfortable enough to sit in silence together while everyone celebrates together. Eventually you even let him slightly touch you. No where close to hugging but you do let your skin touch in proximity

📯He wasn't paying attention, but you were stewing in what seems like anger all day. He's the only one who can handle you like this, so you sat with your arms crossed in agitation

"I want to go home." you scowled with the redness of your eyes intensely glowing like hot embers.

"How about we stay for a while, then I take you home." He soothed gently, rubbing your arm but it did nothing to calm you down.

"Why?!" You exploded and Mark jumped at your sudden outburst. The entire room went silent. You looked around, anger and embarrassment flooding your face. Mark wasn't having the greatest time, but it was still nice to get together with everyone.

"The fuck are y'all looking at?" Before you hopped off the couch and with a streak of red light you were gone.

He followed because you have him hooked. He's never been fast enough to catch you; you tell him all the time he never will be. BUT you do seem to like flowers. He's found you in flower patches before just on a lazy day, lying around doing nothing. He's found you in a specific one in the woods by your house just a few times. The little clearing helps you clear your mind.

When he does find you, you're angrily pacing back and forth on a little worn path. For once not running. You stop once you hear him land behind you.

"What." It came out as a sharp snap, without facing him.

"What's wrong with you today?"

"Nothing's wrong with me. Go away."

"You can tell me."

In a rage you spun around eyes darting around as if looking for something to throw at him in an attempt to repel him. A frustrated huff crossed with an angry shriek was his answer as.

"What the fuck! Just tell me what's wrong, why are you being so difficult?!"

Your shoulders rolled before you stalked to the edge of the clearing with your back to him. He followed because like I said you have him whipped girl.

"I like you. I like you so much it pisses me off! We had a shit day, I got stuck in a sewer drain then you wanted to go hangout with everyone, why? I don't like them people, but I like you and wanted to make you happy. But honestly, I can't force myself anymore, okay?! I can't do it! I can't stand this shit!"

That was the most he ever heard you speak.

"We don't have to hang out with everyone."

"Don't patronize me. Fuck off." You laughed, your voice raw with what sounded like forming tears and your eyes now a dimmer red.

He floated over to you, where you kept your arms wrapped tightly around your body. You fought his arms, his affections. What, did you think he was about to hold you then laugh and say sike?

His eyes followed your face as you squirmed from the warmth of his hands.

"We don't have to hangout with anyone else. I just want to hangout with you."

📯From there you've been insufferable. It's so yucky. You literally don't care about anything else.

📯Remember how I said Mark isn't a touchy guy? I lied. He wasn't touchy before you, but he really REALLY likes touching you. He's always touching you, it's so annoying (you want to live in his skin but you have to stay nonchalant)

📯He's holding your hand, touching the small of your back, forcefully laying his entire body over yours while you try to nap, he might even lick the side of your neck for the fun of it.

📯You hate it (lie) but you get used to it. You even held your hand out for him to hold it once. Hell, you once opened your arms for a hug and he almost bawled.

📯Here's the crazy ass thing: when Mark gets you used to the touching then he can't get you to stop. He can be trying to shit and you're holding his hand

📯Even on the battlefield when you're supposed to be staying focused you were staring at him with those big red eyes.

📯Mark gets to see you being soft and normal and he's fallen deeper in love with you

📯When you wake up from a nap (after being able to sleep with him in the room) and your eyes are so sleepy and soft. You don't want to get up, and you're dragging Mark back into bed with you muttering something like 'no not yet'. Before you put on your makeup, without the sharp wings of your eyeliner, when you remove it and your face has a dewey glow of your skin care

📯Oh his favorite is when you're sleeping. He gets to look at you as much as he wants without you telling him to cut it out.

"What."

"I'm looking at you, I can't stare at my girlfriend?"

"No, what the fuck?" Before you're crinkling your face in disgust and rolling over so he can't look at you anymore.

📯But when you're sleeping, you're so cute. You're face smooshed against his chest, the red of your bonnet slipping (before he adjusts it) to give away to a streak of red hair in the front of your hair under the covers of black hair. You drool just a bit even though you'd never admit that though. You also sleep talk a little and he records it once. If he shows it to you, he fears you'll go feral

📯You like to climb on him. Only in the privacy of your bedrooms. Like if he's sitting, you'll climb onto his lap or neck.

📯You feel safe enough with Mark to be semi-calm with him. You still don't talk much but Mark can really get you talking. You try to fight it and keep it cool, but you just love him. You love him so much that your true self comes out

📯You even laugh, a high-pitched squeal that only comes out when you're truly happy. He always makes you laugh. In fact, you laugh so much that you almost got smile lines from the sheer amount of joy you felt. He's just such a good boyfriend.

📯He's there for you, understands that you don't feel the need to explain where you're from and doesn't push you, doesn't really want to know why you keep running fades with some random blue haired girl

📯Mark supports you no matter how many time's y'all fight he more so just cheers you on

📯You don't give a fuck about other people, you worried about yourself and your man that's it. He could be telling you the hottest tea and you'll fall asleep

📯It's so bad you'll be so out of the loop. Like you know nothing, and you don't care, you just listen because you want to listen to whatever he says even if it's in one ear and out of the other for you.

"Oh my God, I forgot to tell you. Robot cloned himself from Rex because Robot, who wants us to call him Rudy now, likes Monster Girl. But Monster Girl looks nine, literally looks like a little kid and he wanted to crack that, but he says it's okay because they're biologically the same age now? I don't know. I just feel like seeing a nine-year-old and wanting to hit that is so weird even if you're mentally the same age.

Stealing the DNA of a grown man because you think a girl who looks like a little kid likes him is crazy as Hell-"

Before you just pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Can we go back to making out? I don't care about this."

And he's so down bad for you that he has the dumbest grin on his face.

"Okay." With literally the biggest smile on his face, you love the effect you have on him. Then you two are touching each other everywhere. Literally everywhere, you never noticed how big his hands were before they were down your panties, and his fingers were inside of you.

📯Oliver hates how much you two 'mate' it's so gross. You two wanted each other for the longest time, now that you have this man you weren't going to waste the chance to rub up on him.

📯It embarrassed you so bad to not only want someone but ALSO want someone to do crazy shit to you

📯Mark wants you so bad too but you're both pretty busy. Well Mark is, you chose not to partake in society, but you have your own stuff that you do when he isn't around. But that does not stop you two.

📯It doesn't stop him from coming up behind you and pressing his boner into you, running his hands up your stomach and over your breast.

📯Ironically y'all do not have fast sex. I know the whole super speed thing makes it seem like you two would but you two love each other and want to spend as much time together possible. Privacy is very important to you two as well, so there's nothing going on in public. You want to enjoy it, not feel like it's just a cheap fuck and that's it.

📯Mark is just happy he gets to touch you. But no, he also wants to be gentle with you. He lets you take the lead because it makes you comfortable. He's just a man at the end of the day. He's happy to just lay with you. And he knows giving up power freaks you out.

📯So, if that means taking great pleasure in you setting the pace when he does sometimes want to go as fast as he can and watch you lose yourself, he also knows intimacy is a big step for you

📯But you do go fast sometimes. It just lasts long. Lots of screaming. You've gotten noise complaints.

📯He holds you afterwards. He rubs your back but doesn't say much. Over time you get very used to just taking it easy. More comfortable talking about your feelings. But after something like sex where you've just shown him every single part of you, he isn't gonna push you to do something you've just gotten used too. There is comfort in silence.

📯If you did speak or lash out after sex or maybe during then it meant you were upset and needed to talk it out. But Mark knows the less you say the better you're feeling after something like that.

📯Similar to how you two got together. Comfort in silence. Silence in sitting together, feeling each other and rubbing each other's soft skin until someone falls asleep. Usually, you first then Mark follows after making sure you're comfortable.

📯All in all: you two love each other. He's crazy over you, you're crazy in general. It works! You guys are the most sickening couple, you don't care whose around or what's going on you're gonna keep being a hater and stunting on these hoes.

📯You struggle with PDA, at most you'll hold hands, or he'll have his arm wrapped around your shoulder in public. Mark understands and he doesn't need to stick his tongue down your throat in public.

📯You try to get along with everyone a little better for his sake, but Mark knows you have a mutual dislike with almost everyone. Mark doesn't care either. You get along with William, his mom and brother, that's all that matters. Those are the people Mark would take with him on a desert island, he doesn't want no one else out there with him.

📯You become more of a hero instead of anti-hero because Mark won't let you hang vilians upside down in the name of good until police could arrive.

(Okay this is getting way too long y'all so we're gonna pack it up. But I would totally write a short story about this couple. Like a little day trip and when you two finally hold hands for the first time in public. That would be so cute.)

📯Ultimately, Mark loves you. He loves how you refuse to play nice, how you refuse to be something you aren't. He also knows better than to push you. You've been through it of course, but he knows you're trying. For his sake, you try, and he appreciates that. He loves you; he supports you, he's there for you no matter what.

📯You love Mark so much. He keeps you grounded; he doesn't take your anger to heart. You're push people away from fear, but Mark is glued to your sight. You couldn't pry him off of you with a crowbar. He accepts you; he gives you the love you need. You appreciate how he doesn't try to force things with you. He's supportive but lets you figure yourself out and everyone needs that sometimes. He's your safe place, you're his favorite person in the entire world.

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