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trulyy-yourzz · 2 months ago

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Hii mami

how you doing today ? I have an idea

can you make one where r is Billie’s teacher and has a husband (shes secretly a lesbian)but Billie doesn’t gaf and wants her but r keeps saying no so one day Billie pulls up at r house pretending having tutoring lessons with her and ends up fucking r at her house while her husband is here (they don’t get caught btw)

im in no rush honey

take ur time

ilyyy

♡smut. - B.E x fem!reader

Hi babyy! I was wondering where you had disappeared too. But back again with the wonderful ideas I see 🤭 ilyy! Enjoy love

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

You loved your husband. You really did. But the journey through marriage was the one thing that made you realize sudden... changes.

For a few years now, you have taught physiology for the longest. It was one of your favorites back when you were in university. Even though you often got clowned for it.

But you especially loved teaching that class because of one particular girl..

Billie.

She was everyone's favorite. They loved her for who she was and how she was with others. There was not one negative thing about her... she was perfect from her dark silky hair to her diamond like eyes to her odd but very attractive choice of clothing.

You tried to push her away. You really did. But the more she interacted with you, the more attraction you felt towards her. It was like a magnetic pull you couldn't intercept. A strong knot you couldn't untie.

You were at your desk, lost in thought while everyone was too focused on an assignment or having their own conversations.

You stared at your laptop, biting on your nail as you scrolled through your emails mindlessly. You had applied to teach at a more professional position at your school and hadn't gotten an email back yet when you should've around this time.

You rested your face in the palm of your hands, sighing deeply.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, a soft voice calling your name. So you looked up and she smiled when you saw her. Her smile was a grin that challenged the boundaries of her face. And bright eyes that practically hypnotized you without the entiention to.

"Hi babe, feeling okay?" You loved the way she talked to you... loved the way she called you those cute little nicknames in that arousing tone that turned you on more than it should've. You had a husband.

You had everything any other woman could want.. a big house, a stable job that paid good money, and a loving man who cherished and spoiled you every single day. Then why wasn't it enough? Why weren't you satisfied.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Thank you, Billie." She tilted her head and the grin on her face more prominent as she leaned in closer, her hands planted on the desk for support.

"You seem stressed babe... I know a thing or two to help with that."

You swallowed. Hard. You felt your body weaken at the intense eye contact between you two. The tension in the air felt more and more dominant as the time passed by. It was like she could see right through you. Undressing you with her eyes, slowly. painfully.

"Uhm..." And before you could finish your sentence, the bell rang. dismissing all students from their classes. Thank god.

After hours of reviewing papers and driving through the flooded streets from the pouring rain, you'd finally made it home. Your husband was still in his office around this time, nost likely fallen asleep. He was pretty strict about not being bothered, so you did your best to leave him alone.

He would stay in his office for hours and come out early in the morning. This was an everyday thing, so you often slept in the room alone. It was sad, but you were understanding.

You finally took a hot shower, feeling in need of one all day. It was around 6 p.m., so you still had time before you'd head to bed. You threw on a black silk nightgown and walked out into the living room, plopping onto the couch and sighing deeply.

You were lost in thought once again, and your mind ran back to the interaction with Billie earlier that day.

The way she looked at you had been replaying in your had all day. You could feel the intimacy through her gaze. It was hot. It was seductive.

You took a deep breath and snaked your hand to the lace of the bottom of your nightgown, tugging at it slightly as you bit down on your lip. This was wrong. But you couldn't help it. She made you like this. You were fine without sex in your marriage, or so you thought, for all your husband did was work. You did try to at least have a little action with him. But his excuse was always 'I'm busy'.

All that built-up sexual frustration multiplied as each day went by. You felt unwanted. Like you weren't enough for him.

You slid the fabric covering your pussy to the side, revealing all the wetness that had built up on your underwear.

Your head fell back against the cushion of the couch as you slid a finger inside your dripping cunt. You squirmed and let out an unsatisfied whine. It wasn't enough. You tried adding another finger, but before you could, you were interrupted by the doorbell that echoed throughout the house.

Your body shot up, and you fixed yourself before walking over to the front of the house. You opened the door, and your eyes widened at the sight of Billie right in front of you.

"Hi beautiful." She smiled. "Billie? How did you...?" She chuckled as her eyes ran down your figure, noticing the thin fabric that covered absolutely nothing. It was short and very inviting. And the fact that you hadn't been wearing a bra had her questioning what she even came here for. It took every bone in her body not to just pounce on you right then and there.

You noticed her checking you out, and you gasped, realizing you had been showing quite a lot of skin. "Oh, uh... one second." She smirked, and you closed the door behind you. Running to your room to grab a sweater and throwing it over your head.

Billie smiled at you once you'd open the door again, inviting her in. "Sorry about that..." you said nervously. "No worries. The night dress was cute, though. What a shame you changed"

You felt your body heat up. You were embarrassed... just a minute ago, your hands were in places they shouldn't have been. touching yourself to the thoughts of her.

And now she was on your couch, sitting in the same spot you were just fucking yourself on. Or at least attempting to.

You eyed the door to your husband's office, clearing your throat before you spoke. "So.. to what do I owe the pleasure?" She turned her head to look at you, standing in the kitchen. Billie bit down on her lip before she stood up. "Well... I just needed some help."

Your heart began to race, every heart beat louder than the next as she got closer with every step towards you. "The assignment from earlier today. I don't quite understand it?"

You swallowed. Hard. She looked so hot. Sweatpants hanging low on her waist, just enough for her tattoo and colored boxers to peak through, a black hoodie that was slightly cropped. Oh, and you can't forget about her messy dark hair flipped to the side. 'Fuck. me.' You thought to yourself. Figuratively but mostly literally of course.

"What was there not to understand? I'm pretty sure I explained it pretty well." Billie leaned over the counter across from you, biting down on her lip as she smiled.

"Really? I guess I was just distracted." For a second, you got lost in her iris. Distracted by the slight glimmer in her eyes from the light, making them pop. You took a deep breath. "Best pay attention then, love."

She had to physically hold back from pretty much dicking you down on your own counter. The sudden nickname making her body shiver as she groaned. "Or you could help me now?"

You raised your brows, nodding your head slowly. "And what do I get in return?" You smugged, licking your lips as you looked at her own. Dammit. This was your student you were flirting with. But it was so hard to resist her when she talked to you like this.

"Why ruin the surprise pretty? You'll find out soon enough. " You exhaled, mind wondering to all the types of 'surprises' she could be talking about. "Why not tell me now.. I'm impatient." No. You wanted her to show you.

Your bottom lip stuck out, pouting before you walked around the kitchen island and stood next to her, softening your voice. "Think of this as... extra credit?"

Fuck it. She wanted you now. Show you exactly what she'd been wanting to do to you for so long. Forget the fact that you had a husband. You didn't love him anyway. Romantically, at least.

She grabbed your hips, pinning you in front of her, the counter digging into your back before she lifted you up, sitting your body down carefully onto the cold marble. "For all the hard work I'm about to do? Extra credit would be very much appreciated."

She tugged on your sweatshirt, urging you to take it off before sliding her hand up your thigh. Dangerously close to your heat... exactly where you'd wanted her. "Take this off for me baby." She whispered. And without another thought, you did as you were told, yanking the hoodie off of your body and now exposing the black satin gown you were wearing earlier. It was getting too hot anyway. Especially with her here in front of you.

Billie hummed, pleased with how fast you'd responded to her. So precious. She slid her hand farther up your thigh, pulling at the elastic of the fabric that covered your cunt and sliding it off of your legs. You whimpered, feeling the cool breeze between your legs.

"Shh. Wouldn't want your husband to hear. Would we now?" You shook your head. She shoved your underwear in the pocket of her sweatpants before picking you up and bringing you to whatever room she could find. Preferably yours. The thought of fucking you in the master bedroom you shared with your husband was fucking hot.

She carefully tossed you onto the cushion of the bed, lying on your back as she crawled up to you, hovering over your body. "You have no clue how long I've wanted to do this."

You brought your hands up, wrapping them around her neck as you pulled her closer, tangling your fingers in her hair. "Better get to it then." She smirked devishly. Impressed by your sudden boldness.

"Yes ma'am." She maneuvered her way down to your heat, grabbing onto the bottom of your nightgown before lifting it up to your mouth. "Here. Try not to be too loud mama." You nodded your head, biting down onto the fabric.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath her. Like you were a woman stripped of your own pleasure. You hadn't felt the warmth of someone else's touch in so long. But now here you were... so needy and desperate for her to touch you. Even her breath on your skin made you shiver.

"Brace yourself." She said. And that made you think about every little thing she was about to do to you. Mind racing on what she would and wouldn't do. And she could tell, but she didn't want you thinking about it. Just wanted you to feel it. Feel her. And before you knew it, she licked a stripe up your folds. Slowly. soaking in the taste of you.

Your body jumped, surprised by the sudden contact. You grabbed onto the sheets and tried your hardest to hold back the guttiest moan ever.

Billie kissed your thigh and soothed your skin with her soft hands. She wanted to make sure you were okay. You whimpered and ran your hands through her hair, taking a deep breath.

"Please.."

"Patience, baby. Don't worry, I'll make sure you feel reaaal good."

You felt something press against your cunt, something small but hard. Before you could look down to see what it was, you felt it vibrate, making you ball up her hair in your fist. "Oh my god."

You heard her chuckle before pushing it between your folds. "Found it just lying on the floor by your desk. Convenient, dont you think?" You couldn't even respond. The feeling of her breath against your pussy as she pushed the vibrator deeper into you with her fingers sending you into a bliss. All you could see were stars, your vision blurring as you fluttered your eyes closed.

You bit down harder onto the gown, your body quivering. Chest heaving. "Feels good?" You nodded your head, processing her words as best as you could.

"God, you look so beautiful. I always thought you would, but this.. fuck." She sat up, leaving the vibrator to do the work as she slid down her sweatpants, throwing them to the side to retrieve later. You looked down, noticing the bulge in her boxers.

No fucking way.

She took off the boxers, revealing the fake dick she had strapped to her waist. You couldn't help but stare. She had that on the whole time. From the moment she was at your front door.

"Bille, i dont.." – "You tell me you don't want it. Then I won't give it to you. But once I start, there's no stopping."

She gulped. Would something that big even fit inside? It'd been too long, you weren't very confident. "Okay.." You nodded your head, reassuring her that you wanted to continue, and she tilted her head, humming.

She spit where her cock lined up with your enterance, groaning before she pushed inside slowly. Now that.. that was the hottest thing you've ever fucking seen.

"Wait! Billie the vibra–" and before you could finish your sentence, she was fully inside you, down to the brim. Pushing the vibrator farther into your pussy.

"Woops." She watched as your eyes rolled back, your hand gripping onto her wrist as she held onto your waist, pulling you closer as if she wasn't deep enough. She wanted to be close to you. Closer than ever before... She wanted to become one.

The nightgown fell from your mouth as you moaned out for her. "Quiet, my love." She said breathlessly.

It was so sensual. She treated you better than he ever could. Loved you better than he ever could. It ignited a fire inside you that you never thought existed. It felt so good. Burned so good.

"More– please.. please." She shifted her body, moving herself somehow closer than she already was. She threw your leg over her shoulder, and pushed her fingers inside your pussy, reaching for the vibrator before sliding it out carefully. Trying not to hurt you.

Once she did, she re-entered her cock inside your cunt, which was practically drowning it in your juices. She was hitting your walls at a new angle, causing you to squeeze around her and let out a soft moan.

"As you wish." She groaned, pulling out slowly and thrusting herself deeper. Harder. The new angle only adding to the pleasure. Who would've thought this woman could fuck you ten times better than your husband ever could.

She thrusted her cock inside you at an unbelievable pace, as if she was some kind of sex god. You reached up for her, wanting her to hold you. Wanting to feel her warmth radiate onto you. So she pulled you up, sitting you on her lap as you rode her, causing her to hit you at, once again, an entirely different angle.

Your head fell onto her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck as you masked in her scent. Only the wet sounds of your body connecting in the most lustful ways ever bouncing off the walls of the room.

You could feel your climax approaching. And so could Billie. Your walls clenched around her cock, making it more difficult for her to fuck you properly.

"You got it. Come for me, baby. I know you can." Your body convulsed as you gripped onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin, causing her to hiss. She figured it would leave a mark, but who cares. She just wanted to make you feel good.

"Fuuuck..!" You choked on a moan, bringing your head up as you pushed your lips onto hers, tongues fighting for dominance. Eventually getting you to surrender, she bit down on your lip and brought her hand down to your clit, pressing down as she traced figure eights, luring your climax closer.

Your mouth hung open, resting your forehead on hers as you came on her cock, it felt like you were a virgine coming for the first time. You surely weren't. But that's just how good she made you feel.

She soothed your back and continued her repeating motion on your clit, helping you ride out your climax as you grinded ontop of her. Your body tensed and shuddered, eyes tearing up as she lifted your head and wiped them with her thumb.

"You okay?" You just nodded your head, still trying to catch your breath, your body still stuck between the realm of pleasure and reality.

She kissed your forehead before lying you back down onto the bed. "I'll be right back, okay?" You raised your brows, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched her walk away into your bathroom.

A few minutes later, she came out with a warm cloth and sat down next to you, smiling before she began wiping you down. "Thank you." She just laughed softly, making you feel a little embarrassed even though you were a grown ass woman. She just had that power over you. "You're welcome, my love."

You felt your eye lids slowly flutter closed. You tried to fight it, but the feeling of her hand soothing over your body with a cloth made you feel warm... and quite tired. She placed the palm of her hand on your cheek, caressing softly with her thumb before she leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your lips. And a few minutes later, you were fast asleep.

"Rest well, my love."

Notes: i actually kinda hate this... but i wasn't gonna rewrite the whole thing. AGAIN.. Hopefully, you like it more than i do😅 enjoy my loves💝

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nyctoaerah · 5 months ago

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Yandere!Limerence!Giyuu Hc's pls? Both nsfw and sfw<3 your writing is so good btw! I'm inlove with limerence🤍🤍 sorry if it's not specific enough 🥹 I just can't get enough of giyuu<3

⋆♱⋆IN LIMERENCE

Warnings: Yandere Behaviors, Loads of Manipulation and Gaslighting, Stalking, Nsfw in the end, tiny bit of somno at the end. MDNI

Pairings: Yandere! Giyuu Tomioka x Fem! Androphobic Reader

The moment that Giyuu finds out about your fear of men, he resorts to an act of shame: He pretended to be a girl, knowing full well how deeply traumatized you are by your male comrades—hell you’re even afraid of your own mentor — Uzui, so who’s to say that you wouldn’t be scared of him if you find out that he’s a male?

So In an act of desperation, he lowers himself so low, because he doesn’t want you to hate him, reasoning with himself that you already see him as a girl anyway, like, his pronouns suddenly turns from he/him to she/her whenever you’re near, not only that, he makes sure to make his voice as soft and as feminine as possible whenever you’re near, after all, he can’t have his pretty darling afraid of him now, can he?

He doesn’t mind wearing makeup or lipstick as long as it doesn’t jeopardize his cover. The other Hashiras were beginning to question whether Giyuu was transgender, and while this wounded his pride, his primary desire for you to be comfortable with him was more stronger than the shame he’s feeling.

He gets jealous whenever you’re near Mitsuri and Shinobu, because he knew damn well that those two girls obviously has feelings for you and they have a lot of chance with you, considering your androphobia — and the fact that there’s a 70% chance that you might be a girl kisser.

He doesn’t like the fact that the two girls, Especially mitsuri — who wasn’t afraid of showing her feelings for you, always hugging you and bombarding you with compliments. Because honestly, what’s the point of having those two girls around when you can have him instead?

He showers you with gifts and often treats you to outings, but truthfully? Those are just his ploys to isolate you from everyone else, after all, he craves your presence and has already sunk to great lows for you; and he definitely won’t let you slip away from his fingers.

He would always stalk you, so he would eventually find out the things that you liked, the things that makes you tick, your fear, and other stuff, and he uses it to his own advantage — especially your androphobia, saying things about the other hashiras, especially the male ones, about how they treat him so bad, and how they make him feel like an outcast. And honestly? you’ll have a hard time trying to find out whether he’s being genuine or not, because it was very obvious that the other hashiras dislikes him. The fact that he’s such a soft-spoken manipulator doesn’t help either

He’s totally into it when you play with his hair; it’s like his personal spa day, He’ll plop his head on your lap like it’s a throne, soaking up your ramblings like they’re the latest gossip,

Here’s where it gets a tad too cozy: whenever you’re yapping about the mysteries of the universe, and there he is, lounging on your lap, His fingers would start their little expedition up your thigh, but don’t worry, he’s a gentleman—he’ll halt if you give him a swat or tell him to stop. But if you let him continue? Well, let’s just say that’s a one-way ticket to a very different conversation.

Giyuu really loves pleasuring you with his fingers and mouth, his fingers would drill deep into your dripping pussy, while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears while he fingers you. Yet, beneath this guise of sweetness, a hidden agenda brews. He hopes—prays—that the intensity of your ecstasy will render you oblivious to the prominent bulge that would always tent his pants, whenever he would get the chance to get in your pants.

He totally shuts you down when it comes to him getting any pleasure, like, no way! If you did, you’d realize he’s definitely a guy, not a girl! So, it’s mostly him just giving you some action. Deep down, he’s kinda happy you’re not sexually active and just goes with the flow. And Honestly? He probably thinks you’re asexual. But man, when he gets all worked up and his cock starts leaking and getting painfully hard, he just ends up taking care of it himself. Sometimes, though, when you’re snoozing, he can’t help but use your hand to get himself off instead.

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

𝐀/𝐍: WOAHHH, this is the first time i got asked for hc’s on one of my books😭😭 so this is actually pretty unique LOL. Anyways, this hc’s is based of my book: Limerence. It’s a yandere!kny book and it’s a harem — it’s why mitsuri and shinobu r said to have feelings for you:) you can go check it out on my wattpad! It’s the rewritten version, but if you read the quotev version (the previous one) it’ll make sense why reader thinks that giyuu is a girl, since the rewritten version hasn’t reached that part yet. But i suggest that you read the rewritten version more cause the orig is cringe af LOL.

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leaderwonim · 7 months ago

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𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — two: since when were australian girls mean?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

masterlist | previous | next

“Tell us everything!” Giselle slaps your arm jokingly, practically bouncing on the edge of her seat from excitement. “I know I was scolding you earlier but you slept with the Lee Heeseung!”

You grin, taking a sip of your iced americano. Yujin wasn’t as interested as Giselle, she was more concerned than anything.

“I told you, no feelings attached. He saw me bummed out at the party and things just escalated. That was all it was, really.”

“I just hope the rumors don’t escalate.” Yujin frowns. “You know how Heeseung’s group can be.”

“Yeah,” the three of you swing your backpacks over your shoulder, getting ready to head off to school. You just hoped the rumors wouldn’t earn you looks when you walked in.

Meanwhile, the group decided to make Seojun is the designated driver. His father did gift him a shiny new Porsche for his birthday.

Danielle was in the passenger seat while Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Hanni made themselves comfortable in the back.

“So, who’d you fuck?”

Danielle gasps at Seojun’s nonchalance and straightforwardness.

“Seojun!”

“What?”

Hanni glares at the boy in front, but turns to Heeseung after with a smirk. “He’s right Heeseung. Who’d you fuck?”

“What makes you think I slept with someone?” He nervously chuckles.

“Let me think,” Hanni pretends to think for a second before refocusing her eyes on Heeseung. “You didn’t respond to the group chat until the next morning, and you didn’t show up to Wonyoung’s breakfast. Please don’t tell me it was some loser that you got with.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “It’s nobody we know. Just drop it.”

Hanni shrugs, not in the mood to pester the boy any longer. She leans against Sunghoon’s blazer, pressing her cheek against his arm.

“My parents just checked in my allowance.” Sunghoon says. “20,712,750 won for this week. You want to get food after school?”

Hanni nods quickly. “Yeah. Let’s go to the hot new karaoke place you like. What was it called again, Hoon?”

It was during times like these where Lee Heeseung felt out of place. Seojun and Danielle were both busy talking in the front about something that interested the both of them, and Hanni and Sunghoon were busy cuddling up to each other to even care about what was around them.

It was as if they were separate duos that Heeseung just couldn’t come between. They each had their own thing, something that he didn’t have.

“We’re here.” Seojun stops the engine. “You guys get out first, I have to make a phone call to my dad.”

Heeseung’s the first to step out of the car, already exhausted from just looking at the school.

This was his last year before graduating—he just had to pull through and get into Columbia.

Giselle’s car is parked only a few meters away, and she has to stop herself from pushing you over to Heeseung herself.

“There your boyfriend is.” She teases.

“Sh! What if his friends hear?”

Giselle looks over to Heeseung’s friend group, clearly unimpressed. “Just a bunch of wealthy kids who spend recklessly. Seojun even got a new Porsche.”

Yujin grabs her backpack from Giselle’s trunk, then an idea suddenly lights up in her head.

“Y/N,” she says, poking you softly.

“Yeah?”

“I think I may have an idea to how to fix your scholarship problem.”

You turn around to face her, eyebrows raised in confusion.

She points discretely at something in front of the three of you.

Lee Heeseung.

AUTHOR’s NOTE. HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS GET MY TSITP REFERENCE 🥹 park seojun is played by lee wonjung btw!

TAGLIST (closed) @cupidhoons @lilyuwon @soobeboobe @immelissaaa @coqhee @shuichi-sama @ssukiyakii @deobitifull @sunpov @anittamaxwynnn @minjaexvz @katarinamae @capri-cuntz @jooniesbears-blog @sakanelli-afc @lvlyjisung @cherlv @mnxnii @llvrhee @b0bbl3s @lwavander @glxzillx @txtlyn @heartheejake @realrintaro @wonyoungsvirus @hyuckies18

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satorulovebot · 1 month ago

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so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter two

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — satoru comes home to his angry wife and he said some questionable stuff the night before. satoru meets suguru at a bar in shinjuku and they discuss what they should do with their nosy little journalist and they manage to come up with a plan on how they should deal with her, and it doesn't include the most moral of ways.

✧₊⁺ word count — 4.6k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), alcohol use, drug mentions, manipulation, mentions of sex (not with reader)

✧₊⁺ notes — well hello to all my new readers this was very unexpected for me. i started this blog with max 4 readers interacting with my work (i love you btw) and now i have 1k interactions on my ssiwm masterlist which is crazy and anxiety inducing (i’m a wuss if you couldn’t tell). but thank you to my cursed seas babies who voted for the f1 gojo series and i thank them because they brought me here and i wouldn’t have kept writing without them and thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter also short chapter because life longer chapter soon i promise :)

♪ on the floor — jennifer lopez ft. pitbull

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

previous chap. tokyo, japan | next chap. (coming coon)

The world around Satoru was hazy when he opened his eyes, barely able to make out the details of the ceiling above him. His head throbbed and pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He let out a groan before rolling over on the couch in a desperate attempt to block out the morning sunlight.

Where was he? Oh, right. His apartment. The couch. Again.

He remembered stumbling into the house at some obscure hour of the night, unaware of how he swayed as he tried to navigate the hallway of his home. Memories of the previous night came rushing back and all of a sudden, a conversation came to him—a memory of the curious face that sat across from him in the dimly lit bar, asking him questions he would usually brush off with a smirk. What was it he had said about her last night? Something about a cute, nosy journalist being at the bar. He could only hope he didn't say that out loud.

“Oh, look who finally decided to wake up." Hana stood above him, her arms crossed, glaring down at him, “How nice of you to finally come home.”

Gojou grunted, pushing himself up, though he instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea hit him. “Morning to you too,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you keep it down? It feels like I’ve been hit by a damn truck.”

“Maybe that’s because you came home drunk out of your mind, yet again,” Hana snapped. “And stumbling around the house at two in the morning, shouting nonsense about some ‘nosy journalist’? Really, Satoru?”

He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of her words. Oh right, maybe he had gone on a bit too much about that girl at the bar last night, hadn’t he? What was her name? No, she never gave it to him, had she? Or had he just forgotten?

“I wasn’t shouting. And… she was just doing her job, asking questions. It wasn’t anything"

“Just doing her job? Is that what you call it now? Going to bars and flirting with journalists instead of coming home to your wife?”

He groaned, slumping back against the couch. “Hana, I wasn’t flirting with her,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s just a journalist. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I know how it is. I know exactly how it is. You spend every other night at some bar, ‘meeting’ people, and coming home like this.” She gestured at him, sprawled out on the couch, his shirt rumpled and hair a mess, the smell of last night’s whiskey still clinging to him. “And I’m supposed to just sit here and take it? Pretend this is normal?”

“Can we not do this right now?” he muttered. “It’s too early for a lecture.”

“A lecture? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually enjoy making a mess of everything. And let me guess, you were just at the bar for a ‘break’ from everything, right?”

“Yes, actually,” he shot back, finally sitting up. "I needed a break, Hana. Do you know what it’s like? Everyone expects me to be this… perfect person, and I'm not. And then I come home, and it’s more of the same.”

“So you’re the victim here? I’m sorry, but did I ask for this life of constant rumors and watching my husband stumble in drunk, muttering about some cute journalist?”

Did he really say that last night? He couldn’t remember, but if Hana said so… maybe he did.

“That’s not—Hana, it wasn’t like that. She was just… She’s just doing research on me for some project. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“Oh, of course. Just research. Because there’s nothing strange about you going off with some girl who’s practically a stranger and giving her everything she wants to know about your life while leaving me in the dark.”

He looked at her, genuinely surprised by her comment. “Hana,” he started slowly, “I don’t ‘leave you in the dark.’”

“Really? Then tell me, what about all the rumors, Satoru? The ones I have to read about in the papers? The ones I have to brush off every time someone asks if our marriage is ‘really okay.’ Do you have any idea what it’s like having to deal with that?”

Do you think I like having my life dissected by the media, or dealing with every fucking rumor about me? I didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” she shot back, “but you made it worse. Do you ever think about how your actions make me look? Every time you’re out drinking, showing up in those trashy tabloids with someone else, it’s me they look at, like I’m the one who can’t control her husband.”

“So what do you want from me, Hana? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I went out. I’m sorry I had a drink. I’m sorry I talked to some journalists. But I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

“You can’t pretend? Satoru, you’ve been pretending for years. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.”

He stared at her, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. “Hana…”

“I can’t keep doing this, Satoru,” she said softly, her voice breaking just a little. “I can’t keep watching you spiral like this, hurting yourself, hurting me. I didn’t marry you so you could destroy yourself.”

Hana let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “You’re not the only one with limits, Satoru. And I think I’m reaching mine.”

Without another word, Hana turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“Great job, Satoru,” he muttered to himself, dragging a hand through his hair.

He let his gaze fall around the room, landing on a few framed pictures scattered on the shelves. One photo caught his eye—a photo of his and Hana's engagement party. The two of them had looked so happy, so in love, but that was before he let the fame and pressure eat away at him and his marriage.

“God,” he muttered under his breath. He needed to get out before the walls began to close in on him. The last thing he wanted was to sit around in the empty house alone with his thoughts. Grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch, he stood up, ignoring the fresh wave of nausea hitting him. With a quick glance down the hallway where Hana had disappeared, he slipped out the front door.

Satoru found Suguru in their usual spot—seated in the corner of a booth in a low-lit bar tucked away in Shinjuku. He was nursing a whiskey and a cigarette between two fingers, rolling the glass, and watching the ice melt. Satoru slid in across from him and ordered himself a whiskey.

“You look like hell,” Suguru said, his mouth twitching into a faint smile as he raised an eyebrow. “Long night?”

Satoru snorted. “You could say that.”

“Ah, the usual, then,” he replied, not even looking up. “Guessing it ended with a headache and Hana kicking you out onto the couch?”

Satoru grimaced, taking the glass of whiskey the server put down in front of him. “Something like that.” He took a long sip, letting the burn trail down his throat. “Or maybe I just wanted a break from the domestic life.”

“Right. Is that why you look like you’ve gone ten rounds with a wall and lost? What happened?”

“Same shit as always,” Satoru muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s pissed I was out last night. Probably more pissed that I came home talking about some journalist.”

“A journalist, huh? She’s probably wondering if she should be jealous.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly help by calling her ‘cute’ and ‘nosy’ in the same sentence. Not my best moment.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

"Tell me something I don't know." Satoru leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "This girl… she's doing this project or something on me and TJR. She was in the press booth at the race yesterday and happened to be at the same bar as me after. Seemed a little too interested in getting into my head."

"Maybe she just wants a good story for her project. Or," He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, "maybe she's looking for more than that. Journalists are like that, especially extra nosy ones. They'll dig until there's nothing left, then still find a way to bring things up."

"She wouldn't be the first," Satoru scoffed.

“What exactly did she ask you about? Anything too close for comfort?”

Satoru swirled the whiskey in his glass, thinking. "To be honest, Suguru, I can't even remember half of what she said because I was too busy staring at her tits."

"Fucking Christ, Satoru. The hell?"

"What? She's got nice tits," he shrugged. "But in all seriousness, I think she was just asking the basics at first… and I might have opened my mouth a little too much."

"Sounds like she's already done her homework. If she's that determined, she's not going to stop at surface-level questions. Do you think she knows about all of it?"

Satoru knew what he was referring to.

“I don’t know, maybe. But if she is, she’s damn good at hiding it.”

“Then maybe you should start doing the same,” Suguru said quietly. Keep her close. See what she knows.”

“You’re saying I should let her in? What the hell do you think she’s going to do if she gets any closer?”

"You don’t have to let her in. Just make her think you are. Play the game, Satoru. You can be charming when you want to be. Distract her, keep her off your trail. If she’s nosy, then give her a story that’ll satisfy her and keep her from digging deeper. You’ve got the upper hand here; use it.”

Satoru thought over Suguru's suggestion, the gears in his mind turning. It wasn’t a terrible idea. It was probably his best option. If he was going to stay ahead, he’d have to play it better than her.

“Alright,” Satoru said, setting his glass down. “I’ll get close. Make her think I’m letting her in, give her just enough to chew on. And if she does know more than she’s letting on, maybe I can find a way to turn it against her.”

“Now you’re thinking like a true strategist. Just remember, don’t let her get under your skin. Journalist's loyalty is to their story, not to their subject."

Suguru's smirk widened, raising his glass in a mock toast. Satoru clinked his glass against his before downing the rest of the whiskey.

You had decided to get a closer look at the in's and out's of how Tokyo Jujutsu Racing worked. And for that, you needed to go to TJR's headquarters. You somehow managed to get your professor to get you inside the place, although it wasn't easy and he said your payment was a good project. The place was sleek and modern, with open spaces and luxury design elements. It was a playground for the rich as much as it was a workplace.

Earlier, you had been asking the staff about Gojou Satoru's training and habits, hoping to get some good information from them. They were surprisingly open to answering your questions, and you got some more information for your project, which was overall great.

Your media pass, which had thankfully been upgraded, hung around your neck as you waited for your tour guide to take you around the place. You decided to roam around for a bit while you waited and that led you down a hallway with team posters and trophies lining the walls.

You were so lost in your observations that you didn’t even realize someone had come up behind you. “Enjoying the view?”

Startled, you turned to find none other than Gojou Satoru leaning casually against the wall. He was dressed in his team's uniform, the red and black accentuating his tall figure, with dark shades covering his eyes.

He was probably high.

“Didn’t think of you as the observant type."

You composed yourself before speaking, “I'm a journalist. I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“And you think you’ll figure that out by staring at the walls?”

“Could be. I think they tell you a lot.” You shrugged. "Like how serious the team is about their image. Or how much they care about their past wins and not their current ones. That kind of thing."

“Oh? And what do you make of me, then?”

“Still deciding. I'd like to think you're more than a drunken idiot."

"I see you still remember that, unfortunately."

“That’s what a good journalist does. They remember."

He pushed himself off the wall, straightening up to his full height. “Well, since you’re here to observe, why don’t I give you something more to write about?”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and motioned for you to follow him. You hurried to keep up, glancing around as he led you through the winding corridors. Eventually, you entered a room with a massive window overlooking the racetrack.

Gojou leaned against the railing, gesturing to the track below. "So, this is where the magic happens. The place where we come to win."

You nodded, taking in the view. “It’s impressive, I’ll give you that. But it takes more than just a fast car to win, doesn’t it?”

"Oh, absolutely. It takes balls of steel, the reflexes of a god, and just the right amount of craziness. All of those, fortunately, I happen to possess.”

“Modesty isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

“Not when you’re the best."

"Right. The best has an attitude I see."

A silence hung in the hair for a few moments as you studied him.

“So, are you planning to spend the rest of your time here psychoanalyzing me?”

“Depends. Are you planning to keep giving me things to analyze?”

“Touche. Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

At that moment, a team member entered the room, interrupting the moment. "Gojou, they’re ready for you on the track."

Stay here,” he said. “You’ll want a good view of this.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the observation room. You watched as he made his way down to the track, confident as ever with not a care in the world either.

Cocky Bastard.

You stood in the observation deck for a little before you saw Gojou

You stayed in the observation room, your eyes fixed on the scene below. You saw Gojou greet a few team members, exchange words with his pit crew, and slip into the driver’s seat of his car.

Gojou maneuvered effortlessly, weaving through turns and accelerating with insane amounts of speed. You couldn’t deny, he was talented and he had clearly worked his ass off to get here as his talent isn’t something that can be taught.

After about forty-five minutes of observing Gojou racing, he brought the car to a halt and hopped out of the driver's seat. You watched him walk into the garage and disappear out of sight, presumably going to speak to his crew.

You couldn’t deny it—there was something magnetic about him.

Your pen scratched against your notepad as you scribbled down every single detail possible.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, his tall frame standing in the doorway.

“Eh,” you shrugged.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means it was okay you ass. It gave me something for my project but nothing really noteworthy.”

“You’re lucky you know that? Not many people get to see me in action.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Okay? I’m not like many people if you couldn’t tell.”

“Clearly,” he scoffed.

“Do you know you’ve racked up more racked up more fines and close calls than any other driver in the league this season?”

“Look, sweetheart,” he said, voice low, “everyone out there knows I can handle the shit I do out there. Besides…” He trailed off. “People love a driver who’s a bit dangerous. Keeps things exciting.”

You met his eyes, holding his gaze without blinking. “You think the world loves you, huh? Interesting. Because from what I’ve read, people seem split between calling you a genius and calling you a liability.”

“Hm. Is that so? Do you believe that?” he replied.

“Yes, and you would know that if you let me interview you properly.”

“Okay how about this,” he glances down at his watch. “We can meet up in the parking garage here in about an hour and you can ask me anything you want for thirty minutes.”

Wait What?

“Uh… Okay, I think I can make it,” you mumbled.

“Great! See you in an hour sweets.”

The roar of an engine echoed through the underground parking lot, the sharp screeching of tires signaling the arrival of the Gojou. You leaned against the concrete pillar, your arms crossed and your foot tapping impatiently. He was late.

You’d waited over an hour, hoping he’d attend the interview he promised you.

When his sleek black Porsche 911 came into view with his window rolled down, you got even more pissed off than you already were

“Glad you could make it,” you called out, voice tinged with sarcasm.

He stretched, not even acknowledging your tone. “What can I say? Traffic was a nightmare.”

“Sure,” you replied dryly, your patience wearing thin. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago. Some of us value punctuality.”

He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing those piercing blue eyes that could disarm almost anyone. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get another word out, he walked right past you, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Give me a sec,” he waved his hand over his shoulder. “Gotta take care of something.”

“Wait—” you started, but he was already striding off, leaving you standing there, seething.

The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. Your annoyance morphed into frustration. After waiting a bit longer, you decided enough was enough. If he thought he could blow you off, he was in for a rude awakening.

Determined, you followed the direction he’d gone. The echo of your footsteps bounced off the concrete walls as you weaved through the garage and into the back corridors of the venue.

“Mr. Gojou!” you called out. “This isn’t funny. Where the hell are you?”

You rounded a corner and stopped in your tracks. The faint sound of laughter—his unmistakable laugh—came from behind a partially open supply closet door a few feet ahead. You narrowed your eyes, creeping closer.

At first, you thought maybe he was on the phone. But as you drew nearer, it became painfully clear that this wasn’t a casual conversation.

“Mmm, you’re so bad,” a woman’s voice purred, followed by the unmistakable rustle of fabric.

Your stomach sank. No. He wouldn’t. Not right Now.

Would he?

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, your movements quieter now. Peeking through the crack in the door, you instantly regretted it.

There he was, pressed against the back wall of the closet, shirt unbuttoned, and his hair disheveled. His hands were tangled in the hair of a woman whose face you couldn’t see, her body pinned against his as they made out with a fervor that bordered on obscene.

Was this seriously how he’d chosen to spend the time he owed you for your interview? The audacity was almost impressive.

You cleared your throat loudly, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the confined space.

The woman gasped, pulling away from him in shock. Gojou, however, turned his head lazily toward you, his expression unreadable. For a split second, there was something in his eyes—a flicker of annoyance, maybe even embarrassment—but it was quickly replaced by his usual, smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite journalist.”

You folded your arms tightly across your chest, glaring at him. “Seriously?”

The woman, clearly flustered, muttered something about leaving and quickly ducked out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared down the hallway.

He sighed, buttoning up his shirt. “What?” he said. “You’ve never seen two consenting adults have a little fun before?”

“Fun?” you snapped. “We had an interview. You made me wait for over an hour before you showed up and then you go and do this?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “You’re the one who followed me. Maybe I would’ve shown up if you’d just stayed put. Plus, I had actually agreed to meet her here before I promised you the interview.”

“You make no fucking sense, do you know that?”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair, which only made it look messier. “I get that a lot.”

“Do you even care how this looks? You’re already under a microscope with all your scandals, and now this?”

“Why do you care so much? You writing a piece on my love life now, too?”

“No, but the media sure as hell is. What does your wife think of this? Of your reputation?”

“Reputation’s overrated,” he said, brushing past you as he headed for the door. “People are gonna think what they want, no matter what I do.”

You turned to watch him leave, your fists clenching at your sides. “Maybe if you gave them less to work with, they’d think better of you,” you called after him.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice low and tired. “This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the empty hallway, your heart pounding and your mind racing.

The sound of footsteps reverberated through the corridor as you leaned against the cold, concrete wall, still processing what had just happened. You were about to leave and write off this night as yet another chapter in the disaster that was Gojou Satoru.

But then, you heard his footsteps return.

“You still here?” he called out, voice echoing through the silence.

You didn’t move. “Should I be?”

He walked towards you, his gait relaxed, almost predatory. “Depends.” He stopped a few feet away, eyes fixed on yours. “You want a story for your project or what?”

You frowned, arms still crossed. “I’ve already seen more than enough tonight.”

“Come by my garage tomorrow. I’ve got something to show you. Something you can use.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Fine. Tomorrow. But this better not be another waste of my time.”

“You won’t regret it.”

The smell of motor oil and metal hung in the air the moment you stepped inside the dimly lit garage. The concrete floor was stained with years of grease with tool scattered across the workbench. The garage was big, to say the least, there were rows of high-performance cars lining the walls, their glossy bodies gleaming under the garage's fluorescent lights. It was a bit of a mess inside the garage, as there were different car parts strewn across the garage.

Gojou stood beside it, sleeves rolled up, grease smudged on his forearms. The sight was so out of place.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” he drawled, tossing a wrench onto a nearby workbench with a clatter.

“Neither did I,” you shot back, arms crossed. “So, what’s the big secret? Planning on showing me how you avoid drug tests?”

“Always so sharp. No, this...” He gestured to the car. “This is one of my hobbies.”

You walked closer, eyeing the vintage vehicle with skepticism. “You? Fixing cars? Sounds like a PR stunt.”

He wiped his hands on a rag, smirking. “You think everything I do is a stunt?”

“You haven’t given me a reason to think otherwise.”

“Careful, sweetheart. I might start thinking you’re obsessed with me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Get over yourself. I’m here for my project, not for you.”

He leaned casually against the car, arms crossed over his chest. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

“So, what’s the deal with this thing?”

“It was my dad’s. He used to take me to the track in this.”

“And you think this will make a good addition to my project? What, ‘Gojou Satoru: The Man Behind the Wheel’?”

People love a good redemption arc. Makes me more... relatable.”

You snorted. “You? Relatable? That’s a stretch.”

He pushed off the car, stepping closer again, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe you just haven’t gotten to know me well enough.”

“Or maybe I’ve seen enough to know exactly who you are.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think you’re a mess hiding behind a pretty face and a fast car.”

“You might be the first person who’s ever said that to my face.”

“Good. Someone needed to.”

…

“You know, I could help you relax a bit. Take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Seriously? That’s your move? Pathetic.”

He grinned, unbothered by the insult. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“Actually, I can. And I will.” You turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Cold as ever,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I like it.”

“Good for you.” You grabbed your bag, ready to leave. “Thanks for the... insight. I’ll be sure to include ‘Gojou Satoru: Amateur Mechanic’ in my report.”

“You really don’t give a shit, do you?”

You paused at the door, glancing back over your shoulder. “Not about you.”

You barely made it five steps outside the garage before his voice called after you. "Running away already? Thought you were supposed to be fearless."

You stopped, the night air cool against your skin. Turning slowly, you saw him leaning against the garage doorframe.

“I’m not running, Gojou. I’m just done wasting my time.”

"You say that, but here you are. You could've written this off as another scandal of mine or another fall from grace. But you’re still digging. Makes me wonder why."

“Because you’re a story people want. A cautionary tale. People love watching someone like you crash and burn.”

“And here I thought you saw me as more than just some headline.”

“You’re not that special.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

“What’s your deal, Gojou? Really,” you asked, voice softer now. “Is this all a game to you?”

“Everyone’s playing a game. I just play it better.”

“And what happens when you lose?”

He stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. “I don’t lose.”

“Everyone loses eventually. Even you.”

“Well then,” he said. “We will see.”

He turned, walking back toward the garage, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You coming or not?”

You frowned. “What?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got something else to show you. Unless you’re too scared.”

You hesitated, every instinct telling you to walk away. But damn it, you couldn’t. There was something here, something you needed to understand and against your better judgment, you followed him back inside.

Gojou walked over to the workbench, picking up a small, silver object. He held it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing it warily.

He shrugged. “Figure it out. You’re the journalist.”

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Maybe I’ll let you know the truth. Or maybe I just like fucking with you.” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Before you could respond, he walked away, disappearing deeper into the garage. You stood there, the key clutched in your hand. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot. Gojou Satoru was a puzzle, a mess of contradictions and lies. And you were going to unravel him, piece by piece.

ssiwm taglist: @ryutotsukai0824 @starlostwish @jaemissso @yuminako @satoryaa @qyuin @vm4879bb-blog

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#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #gojo x you #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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rememberwren · 5 months ago

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Ghoap x civilian!reader who comes home from work in a teary panic attack. Simon and Johnny obviously rush to her and try to calm her down. When asked what happened she explained how she was SA’d or harassed by a man on her way home. Simon and or Johnny are SEETHING with anger that someone would dare lay a hand on their girl, but they do their best to stay calm in front of her, silently agreeing to each other that they’ll find that son of a bitch later. Their main priority is to take care of her. One or two of them gets her in a bath, washes her hair and just overall being an amazing fluffy boyfriend/s while soothing her and kissing away her tears. If only one of the boys is doing that the other one could be pacing around the house seething with anger, trying to find out who that man was and where they can find him. Idk up to you, just a random thought :)

(This goes without saying but you obviously don’t have to write this if you are uncomfortable with the situation. I just love fics where the boys are lovingly (and reasonably) protective of reader. Love your fics btw thank you for being such an awesome writer💖💖)

CW: recent non-con.

“Tell me again how you’ll do it,” you mutter, half asleep with your arms on the ledge of the bathtub, chin resting on your folded hands. Goosebumps have bloomed along your shaking limbs. Johnny reaches out and lays the back of three fingers against your shoulder, feeling the chill of your skin. He reaches out and turns the faucet back on, letting the hot water run and run until you stop shivering.

“Slow,” says Ghost from where he’s perched on the edge of the vanity. His arms are crossed, fists tucked out of your sight. “That’s what it comes down to. It’ll be slow. He’ll be alive for most of it, alive well past the moment when he wishes he weren’t.”

You give a sleepy smile. It wavers, suspended for an endless moment on your pretty face, and then it falls, tears filling your eyes. You shift away from the ledge and dip beneath the water, hair floating up toward the surface as you stay under until your lungs burn. They wait. When you come back up, gasping for breath, you can pretend that the water on your face is from the tub.

Johnny turns the hot water off. He hands you the washcloth again though you have scrubbed yourself raw already; a well worn routine. He goes to add a dollop of your favorite soap—the kind that smells like almonds—but you stop him and ask for the soap that they use.

“I want to smell like you,” you say, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. Johnny reaches for the proper soap and squirts a health dose onto the washcloth. He winces when you shove the washcloth below the water and between your legs.

“Don’t, love,” he says. “Yer going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m already hurt,” you snap, the tenor of your voice fragile, friable. You take a deep, trembling breath and let it out. Then you say: “Tell me again.”

“SlowIy,” Ghost says, patient. He has answered this question in various gory forms for the last two hours. “I want him aware, for as long as possible before I kill him.”

“We,” says Johnny firmly.

“We,” Ghost amends, nodding.

“What’s stopping you?” you ask morosely.

“Just a dog waiting to be let off the leash,” says Ghost.

The washcloth between your thighs slows, then stops. You let it float to the surface of the tub and reach out a pruning hand towards Ghost who slips off the vanity and onto his knees on the wet tiles, slipping his hand into yours. He helps you stand, your legs shaking, unused to the cramped position the tub demanded of you.

Johnny is there with a towel. He presses the water from your hair and wraps you up, gentle against your chafed skin. They help you into bed, pulling back the sheets and tucking you in like you haven’t been since you were a child. The tears come back, and this time you have nothing to blame them on. Nothing. They drip down the sides of your face towards your temples, but Johnny catches every single one.

“Ghost?”

He turns, head cocked, ear towards you while he waits for your word.

You say, sleepily: “Go get him.”

#ghoap x reader #tw: noncon #request

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pantheresssy · 5 months ago

Text

CONQUERING.

—┊⋆ summary: you were a little bit older, who was looking for it? if you have a daughter too, who would care? paige didn’t until she was face to face with a overprotective 7-years-old little you.

—┊⋆ cw: r is on 30s and paige 22s, you also have a daughter, no smut this time only fluff, p is so sweet and i brought this here with ur baby, her name’s kayla btw just thought about it after reading a kk fic.

this is something im experiencing to see if anyone would like and want more of this dynamic.

IF SOMEONE told Paige that she would be sitting on a couch nervously cleaning her hands on her pants, all because of a 7-years-old child, she would laugh. It seemed weird, someone with her height, a basketball player, be afraid of someone so little that could cause no harm — but she was your daughter, a little you. That should frighten the toughest of the fighters.

On court, she was relaxed as if she was on her bed, but there, she was sweating while looking at the stairs you went up. You told her that your daughter’s opinion had so many value for you, and that was one of the — many — things that frightened her. If she didn’t like Paige, everything could go down. And that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

“Mommy,” she heard and swallowed. Little footsteps came along with yours, and the pink boots was the first thing she saw. Up close, she was more you than yourself was. From the hair to the nose, it was like a printer had made that child, even her voice was like yours, soft spoken, but in a more infant way.

Paige’s eyes followed up the girl’s extended arm, her hand being held by yours. She found your gaze and you raised your eyebrows, a sign for her to calm down. The words she was saying stopped when you bent down by her side, your cheek against your daughter’s. “Kayla, that’s Paige. The friend I told you about.”

The blonde smiled, nervously. Kayla looked at her up and down, as if she was a grown adult, and that was the most cutest, yet the most scary, ㅤׁthing. “Hi,” she said after analyzing Paige meticulously.

“Hey.” You brought her closer and sat by Paige’s side, the girl on your lap. With her nervousness, you were sure she would pass out in the middle of your couch. “I’m Paige.”

Your daughter shocked her head, humming. “I know. Mommy told me you were a basketball player.”

“I am.”

Kayla made a pout, lowering her eyes to your hands joined in her belly, taking one of your fingers to play with it. “I like volleyball more.”

You ran your hand through her hair and bit your lip to hold your laugh. You knew she was only doing that to know how Paige would react, to know if she could really like her. It was an old trick she used to know if someone was cool enough. “Yeah. K loves volleyball.” it was an attempt to help, but it fell into deaf ears.

Paige sat on her side, facing you. Her blue eyes passed to you, then back to Kayla. “It’s great.” she cleared her throat and kept looking for words. “Will you want to play one day?”

Your daughter made a face, shaking her head no. “I want to make movies.” she took your nail and started to remove removing your nail polish with hers. “Like mommy.”

Paige frowned her eyebrows. “She found a thing that I did when I was a teen and thought that it was a movie.” you kissed her ear, making her laugh. “But it was just a silly video.”

Her eyebrows were raised in surprise, but you dismissed it shrugging. “Why do you play basketball?” Kayla asked.

“I like it since I was younger than you.” Kayla’s eyes shone and she blinked, trying to pretend she wasn’t interested. “I started to play when I was five.”

Your daughter frowned her eyebrows, and Paige almost laughed of how much she was like you doing that. “Your mom let you do it?”

“My dad did.”

You could see that she was getting more excited to know everything and started to make more questions, in which Paige responded happily. You were sitting quiet, only observing while she talked about how she always can get the basket right.

When you first told Kayla that you had a famous friend and that she wanted to meet her, she quickly went to your phone and searched for Paige’s name — with some wrong letters of her non writing hands. She saw pictures, videos, anything that pops up when you put ‘Paige Bueckers’ on google. You knew that her interested was bigger than she showed, but she wanted that Paige conquered her to know if she was cool enough to be your friend. It wasn’t a common thing, but you were just letting it happen this time.

The talk kept going and you saw the blonde relaxing little by little, Kayla getting more open to talk and leaving aside her play pretend.

Her being just like you was a blessing and a curse. As a child, you were always asking so many questions, and she was doing too. But she had something you didn’t had when you were younger: a better perspective. So when, in the middle of the talk about basketball, she raised her head on your chest, looking at you from below, you imagined that she would say anything but what you tried not to make so obvious.

“Mommy is she your girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened and your breath cached on your throat. Paige was getting whiter — she was going sick right in front of your eyes and in seconds. Kayla was still looking at you waiting for answers while you sent looks of concern to the woman by your side. “Baby …” you started. “We are-“

But then it died before you could finish. She took your words as a yes before you could actually say it. “She is!?” her feet shook and she jumped on your legs, her head hitting your chin, your teeth making a bad noise when the ones below met the top ones hard. You moaned and put your tongue on your gums, trying to find any injury. “I’m sorry.”

Kayla’s eyes quickly filled with tears and she hugged your neck, burring her face there. You rubbed her back comforting her when hiccups shook her small body. “It’s ok, baby.”

Paige swallowed hard and checked if you were okay, still stunned, and you reassured her that you were. Her hand copied yours on Kayla. With a shared look, you told her she could say it. “Your mother and I like each other very much, K.” she said. “Would you let me be her girlfriend?”

The little girl sniffed and said, stuffing: “You should ask mom, not me.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head even though Kayla couldn’t see it. “I already did and she said yes, but we wanted you to agree. What you think is important.”

“Yes.”

Her sadness vanished just like that and she quickly went back to talking, asking Paige how she started — and if things kept that way, she quickly would stop wanting do movies. When both got more excited, Kayla made Paige held her in her arms, making an improvised basket with a bucket she hung on the wall, raising her to hit there with the ball. After getting it right, she would celebrate loud, saying that she was better than the blonde. And Paige never dared to disagree.

Later, when Kayla fall sleep after talking so much and with a sigh of relief from you, Paige and you sat on the couch, your back against her front and your fingers crossed with hers. “She liked you. A lot.”

She kissed your head and smelled your hair. ‘I’m happy she does. I almost shit on my pants.”

You laughed loud, closing your mouth when you remembered Kayla. She didn’t wake up so easily, specially not after spend so much energy, but you rather not risk it. “She’s 7, Paige Bueckers.”

She shrugged. “It’s your daughter, she has a lot of you in her … I’d like to not risk anything.”

You turned around and kissed her, sighing as she put more pressure on you. “You won’t. You conquered her just like you did to me.” you held her cheeks on your hand.

“I know.”

#☄. *. ⋆#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fluff #uconn wbb #uconn huskies

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angsthology · 1 year ago

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he’s spicy and she’s subtly scary

chilli-pepper; (n.) carlos sainz infamously nicknamed chilli by fans meets the kangaroo (who’s a kicker) of the grid. and they’re “in love” too, btw.

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

“hey, baby.”

the spaniard turned around with a smile at the sound of her familiar voice.

“hi, sweetheart.” he greeted, arm immediately stretching out to grab her. luckily for him, she wasn’t in demand to be anywhere at the time so she let him drag her to his side.

she interviewer couldn’t help but laugh and comment at the interaction, “so, what is this? something special between you two?” she chuckled.

carlos didn’t waste a breath to give his answer, “yes. we are in love,” he turns to look at the alfa romeo driver wrapped in his arm with a smile. “isn’t that right, cariño?”

the girl in his arm only had a smile on her face, she didn’t say anything, giving him only a shook of her head.

still adorning the same smile, she quickly slipped out of the ferrari driver’s arm and walked away to wherever she was going in the first place.

the spaniard feigned offense at her departure, with a hand over his chest he yelled over the crowd’s noise—that had may or may not screamed the moment carlos had wrapped his arm around roo, not to mention when he said that they’re ‘in love’. that drove them crazy—“isn’t that right, baby? oh you’re being so mean walking away from me like that.” turning back to the camera with an overexaggerated frown, “she likes to pretend she’s playing hard to get.”

she didn’t know how he did it, but carlos somehow always knew when it was her walking behind him during an interview. every. single. time. he’s foiled her plans of mischief every single time.

but by luck, this time it was so crowded he failed to detect walking behind him (she assumed that was why). she was not about to waste this chance.

just as she was close enough to him, she moved her foot swiftly under him to kick his left foot out and throwing him out of balance—a startled yelp was heard coming from him—with just enough time to try and run away from him.

try.

he may not have detected her before but when he knows she’s there he’s always faster than his own ferrari to catch her.

he pulled her to his right, arm hanging around her shoulders, “gotcha! you know if you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked, cariño.” he smiled smugly.

she let out a—very—long exasperated sigh.

out of nowhere, she suddenly pointed somewhere on the far left, her hand stretching out in front of carlos’ face in the process, “hey, what’s that right there?”

falling for it, he turns his head to wherever she was pointing to find nothing but a sea of fans and reporters. only then he felt her fingertips on his jaw pulling his head to turn and face her again.

both still exhausted post-race and glowing from the sweat, the fans that had gathered around and was lucky enough to have seen the interaction screamed. the two culprits couldn’t help but burst out in laughter the moment their eyes met, both pulling away from being squished together and crouched away from each other with their backs to one another, laughing (while just finally regaining their breaths, might i add).

the girl being the first to regain composure—most of it anyway—pat his back that was facing her, congratulating him on his podium through her smile.

just as she left and was out of earshot, the spaniard walked back to his interviewer with a smile still etched on his face, “if you didn’t know, that was my lover.”

what he didn’t know was her friend was walking pass behind him just as he said that—hearing the entire thing.

the german smacked the back of the culprit’s head to mess up his cap.

the ferrari driver was about to complain until he turn to be met with the strongest pair of blue eyes he knew, taking back his nag at the sight of his co-worker then ending up with both of them laughing it off.

roo was catatonic — and not in the way she is when she’s come face to face with jenson button, no. her face was permanently shaped into one of shocked; one that of a teenage girl in a chick flick that screams ‘the audacity!’

of course, she’s had her fair share of disrespectful reporters and comments from crowds here and there but the man in front of her shoving his microphone her way has really done it. he’s rendered her speechless.

and if she was being honest, a part of her wanted to just burst out laughing at just how disrespectful the words that came out of his mouth had been. but oh man, —what?!

with her processing shock, the girl failed to notice someone had walked up next to her and now currently berating said interviewer.

“and your mother and your little sisters and your little nieces and your—”

blinking once then twice, she looked from the hand that has a grip on her shoulder softly and went up to the face seeing carlos pointing angrily at the reporter listing all the women he will be disappointing in his (the reporter’s) life.

the former only stopped when she grabbed his attention by tapping his left shoulder—though one look was done for him before he went back to continuing on scolding the man with the microphone.

she sighs at his relentlessness and took it upon herself to push him the other way, giving the reporter one last look before turning away with an eye roll.

he was still complaining against her hold, explaining he’s not done with that man yet but he didn’t fight her nonetheless.

when they were finally away from all the cameras, he finally takes a look at her. he swallows the remaining insults he had for the reporter, “you okay?”

she smiles, “i am. i was just…” she trailed off when the words got lost.

“i know.” he finished her thought.

“yeah.” she looked at him again, her smile coming back softly, “thank you.”

“always.” he then continues, “you have every right to be here, never forget that.”

“i won’t.”

te1enoviyuh 🎵 Far East Movement, The Cataracs, DEV • Like A G6

liked by mickschumacher, selvnika, and 6,625,625 others

tagged: carlossainz55

te1enoviyuh happy birthday carl

see all 1,725 comments.

buttoncunt girl today is NAWT his birthday tf 😭😭

fiftyfivetexts isnt his birthday not for another few months...

fiveoschnoopy HIS CONTACT NAME

carlossainz55 😍😍😍

te1enoviyuh carlossainz55 under your own fucking picture?

dunphyrrari dear god this is day something of asking for whatever they have

kimch1raikkonen did you just hard launch him

liked by te1enoviyuh

porschaires theyre everything to me ur honor

maeclaren girls wake up chillipepper content js dropped

didnt know how to end this lmfao | taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra @woozarts crossed out means i cant tag u

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zevrra · 14 days ago

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could u write a jayce x female or gn reader fic or blurb where the reader has major baby fever or just wants a child in general? I feel like Jayce would make such a good girl dad. idk..this request is pretty stupid but i’ve just been craving Jayce as a dad.

I LUV UR WRITING BTW!! PLS NEVER STOP POSTING! 🤍

a/n: AAAAH this was such a cute idea i couldn’t resist KSHDKH. jayce 100% is a girl dad, you can’t change my mind and i also like to think he’d want a HUGE family too. 😭 thank you so much for the request and im sorry it’s a lil shorter but i hope it makes you giggle and kick your feet at the thought of dad!jayce bc i did KSHSKH i love jayce so much omg

jayce is definitely someone who wants to have a giant family one day. wants to have as many kids, in anyway possible, as his partner will let him. he’d be so sweet talking about how one day he hopes he can show off his kids and give them everything they could ever dream about. his heart is so big and it’s just so cute.

the two of you had been together for a very long time and seeing every child recently made you yearn for your own. so when you mention over dinner one day, wanting to start a family; he’s ecstatic. he’s so happy, staring at you with wide eyes as his face lights up with that stupidly charming smile of his.

“are you serious?” he asks; as if this might be a dream and that you’re lying to him.

“no jayce, i said it just to tease you.” you respond sarcastically. laughing with a shake of your head. you manage a shy glance in his direction as your fingers play with the utensils on the table. “i’ve just been thinking about it recently. seeing all the cute babies around the city during the holidays is just making me…want to start a family.” you add with a smile towards your lover.

who still sits and stares at you with wide eyes. his mouth slightly agape, fangs flashing as his lips curl up in a warm smile. he reaches across the table to grab your hand, his pretty hazel eyes full of love as he brings your hand up to his lips; placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“it’s your call, my love but i would be honored to start a family with you.” jayce hums sweetly. he plants another kiss against your knuckles before his thumb rubs across the top of your hand, soothingly touching you as he practically looks like he’s on the verge of tears. as if he’s waited for this moment for forever.

always so dramatic and you loved him for it.

“i think you’d make a great dad.” you state in a matter of fact tone, giving his hand a gentle squeeze back.

and truly, jayce would in fact make the best dad. you didn’t have to say it out loud to know it was true either; since he was already the perfect partner. you could easily imagine him with a little girl, protecting her from any harm, playing dress up, pretending to drink tea when he’s offered a plastic cup. he’s so sweet and deserves everything good in the world and you wanted nothing more than to start that next chapter in his and your own life.

#zevrra zevrra!#anon reply #zevrra replies #arcane #fluffy zev!!#arcane fluff #jayce talis #jayce talis fluff #anon response #anon request #arcane jayce #now i want to write about making the baby >:3 #maybe…someday…#dad bod jayce would be the end of me istg #arcane drabbles #arcane x reader #jayce x gn!reader #jayce x fem!reader

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bambi-slxt · 8 months ago

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I’ve been feeling really down lately so would you mind writing something real fluffy with either chris x reader or matt x reader and it’s about how playful they are together and they’re always teasing and tickling each other and stuff like that.

Just something real cute, love your writing btw!!

of course, honey <3 a/n at the bottom

playful!matt & playful!chris:

✨a concept✨

making dinner -

chris: definitely dancing around the kitchen and being exactly zero help. "come on," he yaps, grinning his cute stupid little grin, "dance with me, pretty girl, the pasta can wait." "chris!" you can't help but giggle at the kid. "wanna dance with my lady." his smile is almost too big for his face, and your heart feels tight.

matt: does everything he can to distract you while simultaneously assuming an air of utter and absolute innocence. "i don't know what you're talking about," he says, slipping behind you and pinching your side, rolling his eyes at what he believes is an incredible overreaction from you.

going thrifting -

chris: tries to scare you by hiding in the racks like you haven't been watching him the entire time, only to be disappointed when you're not startled in the slightest. "but...but..." he grumbles, hanging off your shoulders, arms wrapped dejectedly around your neck, "i tried so hard."

matt: "what do you mean, 'don't get the grand-dad shirt'? this is the peak of fashion!"

the shirt in question:

movie night -

chris: resorts to assailing you with tickling when he doesn't get his way. "i wanna - mmfh - watch The Lion - fuck! - King, so we're gonna fuckin' watch - you motherfucker - The Lion - GET BACK HERE!"

matt: keeps trying to drown his face in your tummy instead of watching whatever's put on the tv. "it's just so cozy." his words are incredibly muffled. "you begged me for three days to watch this with you." "mmfh. gimme head scratches." "you're such a baby." "i love youuuuu."

beach day -

chris: insists on playing mermaids ("wait how come you get the sparkly tail. i'm the merman king, i should get the sparkly tail."), lifeguards ("okay, okay, pretend you're like, drowning, yeah. why? so i can be a hero and save you! duh."), and terraforming the beach itself ("it'll be good for a tiktok, yeah, just dig the trench all the way up there by the towels, and then we can divert all the water away from here and-").

matt: hunts all morning for shells for you and teaches himself to braid so he can string them in your hair. he ends up tangling things more than he produces actual results, but is very careful to undo his mistakes and reapply sunscreen on your shoulders. "and here i thought you hated the beach." "i despise the beach," he says cheerfully, closing yet another ziploc baggie filled to the brim with shells. "can't wait to go home." "liar." matt smiles against your neck, his chest pressing into your back. "yeah, maybe."

farmer's market -

chris: conveniently forgets how much he hates fruits and vegetables because, "they just look so, like...anasthetic. that's the word right?" "nope." "anta...antacid? anna..." "aesthetic?" "that's the bitch, look at these strawberries, they're fucking huge-" "you let the strawberries nick bought last week grow mold in the fridge!" chris grins. "what's your point?"

matt: more focused on petting the dogs people brought with them than looking at the actual stalls with products/goods. "who's a good boy, yeah you are, hey babe we should get a dog, oh my god, you're just the sweetest lil' guy-"

night out:

chris: never lets you walk on the outside of the sidewalk and always stops to listen to the musicians through the bars' flung-wide windows. "baby, look, his guitar's got flames on the side. oh shit, you cold? hey, come here, kid," he chuffs, gathering you under his arm, dulcet harmonies flowing from the bar into the soft night air. "i love you," he murmurs, his lips fluttering against the shell of your ear. "i love bein' out here with ya."

matt: gently hands his finger from the belt loop of your jeans, guiding you lightly through the crowds, watching your face light up at the sights and sounds around you. "holy shit, they're so drunk!" "yeah," he says softly. he couldn't care less about a single other thing in this moment - how would he, when the sparkling neon of the nighttime scene washed over your features?

ice-cream date -

chris: plans to get something to share and refuses to hear anything to the contrary, grinning at all attempts to sway him. "yeah, she'll have - quit it - that one over there, please - i'll tickle you right here in public, i swear to god i will - yeah, thanks - miss lady you better watch it-" "...okay, this is pretty good." he scrunches his nose quite cutely in lieu of a verbal response, shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth.

matt: does literally everything he can to get you to make a mess just so he can do the cliche 'wipe ice cream from your lip' move. "i'm a classy guy, alright, leave me alone," he says with a grin.

cleaning day -

chris: CAUTION- may actually flat-out refuse. "we could just stay in bed though," he grumbles, holding your arm hostage. "we gotta cleannnn..." "nahhhh, come back to me." in a sudden burst of energy, he tugs you all the way back onto him, rolling you onto the mattress and under the blanket in one fell movement.

matt: shuffles your favorite playlist, turns it up, and dances with a feather duster you didn't even know he owned. "WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?" "STOLE IT FROM NICK'S ROOM. COME ON, WE GOTTA DUST!"

grocery shopping -

chris: has a cart and a dream, and is infinitely more focused on you than actually locating the necessary items. "you want it? yes, mamas," he chuckles, "get whatever you want. yeah i mean it. that's what you want for dinner? okay," he shrugs, his downturned smile making his dimples show up and show out, "i'll make ya whatever you want."

matt: has a list and a plan, both of which quickly crumble as he finds it impossible to resist your impulse-purchasing. "no, baby, we gotta..." - long-suffering sigh - "we already have...yes we do, they're at home in your drawer...what do you mean, 'they're all gone', how did you...okay, well chris isn't SUPPOSED to eat your fucking snacks-"

vlogging -

chris: "okay guys, so i'm gonna take her to build-a-bear but it's gonna be a surprise so don't- HEY YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUT HERE YET-" the camera falls onto the couch as a blurry image of you and chris rolling around on the floor fades into view. his hat flies off and his weird, goofy laugh fills the living room.

matt: "hey guys >:|" "tell them :)" "i'm fuckin' getting there. so i said last time that i would never do this stupid wheel of punishments again, but someone convinced me-"

makeup/facials -

chris: "this feels colllld. i'm only doing this cuz i love u. what's this one supposed to do? the last one said it was gonna clean out my pores or something, and this one...'just looks cute', huh? i'm gonna fUCKING-" he launches off his bathroom counter and tackles you onto his bed in a flurry of kisses and tickles

matt: "i think i look great with eyeliner actually. what is it larray says, cunty? do i look cunty? why are you laughing?"

cuddle time -

chris: "absolutely not. come here mamas. you're not goin' anywhere, it's rainin' outside, an' i know you're still tired...come on, i miss ya already..." he smiles as you oh-so-reluctantly nestle back into the covers he holds up for you. "atta girl. stay here til' you die." "chris what the fuck." "that was romantic!" "...sure it was honey. sure it was." his laugh makes you roll your eyes, but the peppered kisses that follow make you smile in spite of yourself. "i love you...you know that, right?" "i had an idea, yeah." he tugs you into his body with a playful growl. "shut up."

matt: simply locks his legs around yours so you couldn't leave even if you wanted to. he traces lazy shapes on the back of your hand and his breath fans down over your neck. "miss girl..." "hm?" "were you aware that i loved you?" "ohmygoddoyoureally?" matt's hold tightens and his low chuckle rumbles through your skin. "you're terrible."

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @solarsturniolo

notes from bambi:

thank you for the request anon! i'm so sorry this took so long but i hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait, and i hope things get back on track for you soon <3

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thollandneedy · 4 months ago

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Hey girl! I'm literally SO OBSESSED with your writing

Can you make a little oneshot where Y/n pranks Peter that she's pregnant, and he just freaks out? Ty <3

April’s Fool- Peter Parker

A/n: Omg my first request aft my comeback! 🥲🤍. Btw i already done this prank with my bf, and he almost died do i got inspo from that situation😂

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, fake pregnancy

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“Peter?” Y/n calls her boyfriend's name when she hears the door to her house open.

“Yes?” The boy answers from afar, and Y/n quickly gets up from the floor, arranging a positive pregnancy test and a pair of baby shoes on her bed, along with a letter congratulating the new dad.

For Peter and Y/n, the first day of April was a day when they planned increasingly absurd surprises, praying that they could pull off a prank on each other without the other finding out. This year, unlike every year since they were fourteen, Y/n had fallen for one of Peter's pranks, saying that she had failed the year because she had only gotten one bad grade. Parker, being the darling of the teachers and coordinators, managed to plan a fake riot in order to scare his girlfriend. After a crying fit and an intense existential crisis, Y/n decided to take revenge.

Her mother's best friend was a few months pregnant, and after finding some little shoes from when she was a baby lost in her parents' closet, Y/n decided to pull the best prank possible.

Pretending to be pregnant

And as generic as it might seem to some people, for Peter it would be a nightmare on earth. Parker, because he lived with his aunt, had always tried not to give her a hard time and to give her everything she had once given him. A few months ago, he had been offered a change of position at Stark Enterprises, and his duties as Spider-Man were increasing, as were his responsibilities at school because he was in his final year.

His focus was divided into two: studies and Spider-Man

In this world, monetary security was also a part, as it was a consequence of his studies. Of course, one day he would love to start a family, but that was a desire further down the line that, if realized now, could be detrimental to the life he had always hoped to have and provide for those he loved.

In addition to the hidden drama classes that Y/n took, she also decided to get her mother to act with her when Peter came to visit, as he did every day after his internship. Because he lived a few blocks from Y/n's apartment, his evening routine had a small part dedicated to his girlfriend. Parker took off his shoes, placing them next to a decorative plant that was positioned near the kitchen, where Y/n's mother was already ready to start the tense atmosphere. The woman stared at Peter with a closed face, while in her hands was a cup of chamomile tea, which spread its scent throughout the room.

“Hello, Mrs. L/N”

The woman continued to stare at him without reaction.

“I didn't know you liked tea. Y/n told me you hated it.” Parker gives a half-hearted smile, smoothing his brown hair with one of his free hands.

“I don't like it, but today I needed to calm my nerves. Maybe you should too.” The woman in the colorful overalls says in response, getting up from the island stool positioned in the center of the kitchen and walking into the living room without exchanging another word with the newcomer.

Peter looked at her in confusion, but headed towards the end of the corridor that led to his girlfriend's bedroom. Before entering, she asked him again if he could open the door, to which he replied:

“Get in here pronto, Peter.” His girlfriend complained in a low tone, causing the young man to rush inside.

The brunette closed the door behind him, keeping his brown eyes on his girlfriend, who was sitting on the end of the bed with her hands behind her and breathing irregularly. Peter approached slowly, feeling his heart beat faster every time he sensed his girlfriend's insecurity in her gaze. With trembling lips, the superhero asks:

“What happened?” Even though Peter already knew that something bad had happened, he still made a point of asking first, trying to soften the impact of a possible shocking revelation.

Y/n takes a deep breath, concentrating on her Hollywood moment. The girl slowly moves away from the present she was hiding behind her, revealing what she had assembled on her bed. Peter feels the floor catching his feet, and the words escape his mouth like the air in his lungs.

“ Dude.” Peter stares at his girlfriend, who cries silently. “Y/n for God's sake I'm going to have a heart attack.”

Parker, with hurried steps, looks directly at the test, which was positive. He looked around for a red pen that could possibly have been used to tamper with the test result, but there was none. The hero's hands began to shake, and his mouth couldn't say a word except:

“Holy shit”

Y/n was holding back the pain he was feeling with all his might, for his thirst for revenge was greater.

“I don't know what to do.” Y/n decided to speak in a drunken voice.

“ Your- your mother she-she.” Peter points to the door, feeling his feet getting weaker and weaker, trying to ask Y/n if her mother knew about the pregnancy.

The girl just agrees, hugging her body and lowering her head.

“Oh my God, I'm literally going to shit myself” Peter sits down on the floor, running his fingers violently through his hair. “OH MY GOD”

“Peter! Stop freaking out. We need to do something” Y/n asks her boyfriend for support.

“We didn't do it without! I'm sure of it. I remember. My God, I didn't even know I could get someone pregnant with me- OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO BE A MUTANT!" Peter shouts, getting up suddenly.

“Peter!” Y/n gets up together.

“HE'S GOING TO EAT YOUR ORGANS Y/N. HE'S GOING TO EXPLODE IN THERE.”

“PETER PARKER!” Y/n catches her boyfriend's eye.

“My God, could it be that my cum is radioactive and the condom has melted?” Peter wonders for a second.

“What?” Y/n looks at him confused and teary-eyed.

“What if he's just like me? And he gets stuck in your womb and can't get out again? I only learned to stop getting things stuck in my hands after four months of being Spider-Man. IT GETS WORSE! WHAT IF HE'S NOT LIKE ME? Y/n, if you've fucked Marcus, I'll kill myself in front of you right here and now. I hate that guy.” Peter can't control the whirlwind of thoughts invading his head.

“Do you really think I'd cheat on you?” Y/n asks offended.

“No, fuck no! I don't think so, but... when did this happen? My God, I think I need to see a doctor. A DOCTOR! I CAN'T AFFORD THE BABY'S HEALTH INSURANCE”

His girlfriend just slams both arms into his legs, giving up talking and collapsing into heavy sobbing.

The brunette takes a deep breath, feeling his body drenched in nervous sweat. The boy, trembling, crawls in front of his girlfriend, who is collapsed at the foot of the bed, looking for support from her boyfriend, who is on the verge of crying too. The hero touches his girlfriend's knees, caressing them briefly in an attempt to calm her down. Peter looked once more at the shoes and the positive pregnancy test, and then his rational side shook him hard, bringing him back to the reality he would have to overcome at that moment. His girlfriend was coughing between loud cries and sobs, while Peter couldn't think of what to say to calm her down.

“I'm dropping out of MIT.” The brunette said after a second of silence.

The girl wiped away the tears that fell down her red face.

“What?” Y/n asks, feeling her heart stop.

“I'm going to study here in New York to be closer to you... well... you two.” Peter lays his head on his girlfriend's lap, who just listens to his declaration attentively. “I'm going to quit Stark's internship and get a home-office job so I can help you with him or her. How far along are you?”

Y/n feels her heart heavy, and answers while holding back a real cry.

“More than a month.” He replied, feeling like he was going to fall apart at any moment.

“ Damn it, love. Why didn't you tell me?” The girl just stares at him, trying to make him remember his brief outburst. “Oh... never mind.”

“I-I didn't want to end your dream.” Y/n cries, now a real cry as she realizes that she has chosen the right boyfriend to share her life with, even in difficult times. After so many disappointments in love, and men who she knew wouldn't give up even a night of drinking and gambling to be in her company, she had finally managed to choose the right one.

“Love.” Peter brings one of his hands to his girlfriend's cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “You're my dream”

The girl smiles through her tears and bends down so that her lips meet his.

“Peter?” The girl calls out.

“Huh?”

“It was a prank. APRIL FIRST, YOU MORON!” The girl stood up screaming and went to her dressing table, where a cell phone was hidden behind some make-up brushes. She took it out and finished recording the reaction of her boyfriend, who was static once again, realizing that he had been caught for revenge.

“I swear to God, one of these days you're going to kill me with your fucking crazy ass ideas." The brunette nodded, putting his hand on his heart and bursting into laughter after all the nerves he'd built up. “How did you get a positive test?”

“Marie, my mother's best friend is pregnant. I asked her to take the test and my mother gave it to me this afternoon. The shoes are mine. I found them in my parents' closet.” The girl wiped her crying eyes, sat down next to her boyfriend, and then hugged him, allowing the pain to wash over her.

“Did your mom get in on this too?” The brunette laughed louder, feeling his stomach ache, and then he collapsed into a sob of relief. “I hate you”

“You love me” The girl wipes away the older man's tears.

“I really do. But don't ever do that again in your life. I was about to have a freak-out”

#tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x fem!reader #mcu peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!peter parker

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do a touya/Dabi fic with shotos twin sister and just had one quirk which was fire so she was tossed aside so she resented her dad and somehow she met dabi/touya and he made her his little spy but she also desperately clings to him at times when she reports to him and stays close since she never got that affection (Btw for outfits she usually wears tank tops and bootcut jeans) please and thank you

Warnings: sorry this took forever for me to get out, been meaning to get to it cuz i miss writing for dabi x todoroki!reader, tons of trigger warnings, sibling incest, siblingxsibling relationships, betrayal, manipulation, resentment, overall dark themes, dysfunctional todoroki family ft, mind the tags, don't read if you don't like the subject matter 🖤

Inhaling deeply before letting out a slow, steady, breath, you pull open the large front door of Endeavor's agency. You could survive a few hours in the presence of your father. Or rather, lingering in the background like the little ghost you were.

No one would dare to say it out loud, but everyone and their mother knew you were the spare twin compared to your slightly older brother Shoto. He was the pride and joy of the Todoroki family, unlike you. At first you believed it to be unfair. You were in the womb at the same time as him. Why didn't you get a ice and fire quirk?

Was it really because he was the first born? That couldn't be it.

Your white flames, while hotter than even your father's, did little to impress him.

You didn't turn any heads when you enter your father's personal floor of his agency's building. This task was easy. Stealing information and sending it to your older brother and his crew became a normal thing for you.

"See, I told you we should have her around." Dabi argued in your defense while caressing the side of your face. "She's a good girl who listens to her big brother, aren't you?" Some would call his tone degrading. You felt the tenderness in his hand though as it delicately angled your face upward so he could look into your mismatched eyes. One the hue of a storm in the sky, the other the color of a raging sea. That’s what Dabi always said before you closed your eyes to go to bed.

Shigaraki and the rest of the League were less thrilled about you being anywhere near them. While you weren't popular like your father or Shoto, many still knew your face. Having you around could be more of a risk than the League were willing to pay.

You just wanted to make him happy, to keep his eyes solely on you. If it involved betraying the other members of your family (including your twin brother Shoto) then so be it. You would let Dabi’s words consume you entirely, making you his mindless slave.

The rest of the League members could chalk it up to Dabi simply using sweet words to manipulate you. He didn’t care about anything. Especially his family. What made you different?

Now that was a secret that Dabi would not utter. His praise filled words were genuine when it came to you and Dabi would be damned if he had to give you up again because of Tomura. He'd make sure you'd make yourself indispensable to the League. They'd have to let you stay.

You were just as determined as Dabi was to keep your place. You hated to even pretend to be under allegiance to your father or any superhero for that matter. They'd always looked down on you for not being like Shoto. Never being enough for them or their world. But you were enough for Dabi.

Slipping the flashdrive up your sleeve, you leave just as you had arrived: unseen. Just in case the cameras hidden throughout the building were focused on you, you'd nonchalantly picked up some of your father's paperwork in appearance of tidying up his workspace like the good daughter you were.

It made you sick to your stomach thinking that not too long ago, all you'd ever wanted was Endeavor's attention and approval. Shoto suppressed his fire ability for years, associating it with his abusive father so you thought you had a shot. You spent hours upon hours practicing with your flames to make them hotter and hotter and finally to where they could melt anything and everything. Leaving not even ash behind.

When you hand Shigaraki the flashdrive, he grudgingly accepts it with a stiff nod. He didn't want to admit that you were providing them incredibly valuable information that all other villain groups lacked.

He ignores Dabi's smug grin as he slung his arm around your shoulder, giving the top of your head a peck. "Knew you could do it." His brings his hand up for his fingers to brush against your cheek.

You felt it again.

The world stopping and all breath departing from your lungs. You wanted Dabi to brand you with his palm, to use his blue flames and scorch your skin so you would always have a piece of him.

Then Dabi leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear and in his husky tone he calls you "Good girl."

Blushing and highly aware of how Dabi simply towered over you, you shyly duck your head. "Ha. . . it was nothing."

Everyone learned to simply avert their attention when Dabi's affections for you walked on the razor's edge of what was appropriate.

You'd proven to be their perfect spy. Shigaraki couldn't wait to see you in actual battle. That would really be the test of your usefulness.

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magicalbats · 8 months ago

Text

Situational Awareness (Dan Heng x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,928

Warnings: afab!reader, some gendered language, shower sex, intercrural sex, thigh fucking

A/N: I've been working here and there on a few different projects (including my long overdue Kinktober pieces, worry not!) but in terms of standalone fics I figured this one was done so I may as well post it. Am I doing so at six in the morning when no one is awake to see it? Absolutely. lol I'm not a plumber so please don't come at me about the shoddy pipe excuse btw, haha

⭐

The unmistakable evidence of all your fooling around is laying across the floor in the form of hastily dropped, rumpled towels. They’d hit the ground in a disarranged heap after the fall, but were still clean as far as you could tell. Not that you could really ask for more on the off chance that they weren’t considering the fright you’d just given the staff but …

Hanging your head, you make the conscious effort to draw a deep, calming breath and come down from the strange high you’d slipped into. You were sweating rather profusely, you’re a bit surprised to find. What had gotten into you? Hotel devils? Surely that was about as absurd as someone climbing into an oddly inviting but no less strange closet as if they’d been personally summoned into its dark depths by some higher force, and yet that was exactly what you’d done. There must have been something seriously wrong with you.

Perhaps it was the Stellaron inside your body causing problems with the electrical signals in its flesh and blood prison. Or maybe you’d hit your head somewhere along the way and the side effects were only now starting to manifest themselves. Your bet was on the tail end of that showdown with the Doomsday Beast back on the space station.

Either way, you desperately needed to get it together.

Straightening up, you send a wary look at the closet in question. Its doors were still thrust open from where you’d leaped out of its (frustratingly inviting) maw some moments ago and there was no denying the faint tug of invitation you could feel trying to coax you back inside but you refused to heed its call. This wasn’t the time or even really the place. You’d let it get the better of you once and that was already more than enough.

“Relax.” You remind yourself as you inch closer to the closet. Resolutely, you reach out and shut the doors. The compulsion slowly fades to nothing and you’re once again left to your own devices. It comes as a great relief.

A harried sigh escapes you as you bend to retrieve the fallen towels next. Perhaps you should leave a note of apology out for the staff. Who knows what they were saying about you right now, the strange girl who likes to hide in closets and scare the living daylights out of unsuspecting workers. On second thought, though, maybe you should just pretend like nothing at all had even transpired here today. Admitting to your own strange behavior in writing would rob you of any plausible deniability, wouldn’t it?

Turning that over in your head, you carry the small bundle of towels into the attached bathroom. Set them down on the sink and almost walk right back out before realizing that you should probably take a shower before bed. Not only were you covered in a fine sheen of perspiration from your time spent getting all worked up inside the closet but you were also freezing. You hadn’t noticed it when you were still running hot on adrenaline and nerves, but now you were gradually starting to shiver.

Just how long had you been crouched inside the cramped dark like that? You really had no idea, as if that part of your memory were an empty cavernous void. It could have been only a few short minutes for all you could tell, or it could have been an eternity. It was impossible to say.

Pivoting, you reach over the tub and wrench the faucet on. The modestly sized room is instantly consumed by the sound of running water as you step back to shrug out of your jacket and take off your gloves. A moment later you test the temperature with your fingers only to snatch them back with a hiss when you find it still ice cold. That certainly wasn’t going to do.

In total you spend about twenty minutes fiddling with the steel knobs, trying them in this and then that position to no avail. No matter what you did the water never seemed to get any warmer, finally leaving you with no choice but to simply turn the damn thing off. You almost give up right then and there. In fact, you consider it very, very hard.

But what ultimately stops you from crawling into bed with nary another thought to the matter is the shuddering chill that’s fallen over you without any of the fast pumping excitement to keep it at bay. You weren’t just cold in the way curling up with a thick blanket could help with. It felt like you were right on the verge of slipping into hypothermia. The thought of laying awake all night shivering nonstop did not sound like the best start to this Trailblaze expedition so you decide to try your luck next door with March.

She opens up on the third knock, wearing her blue bunny pj’s.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night? I thought you were room service or something!”

“Sorry.” You offer her a weak smile, fighting to stop your teeth from loudly clattering. “I think there’s something wrong with the tub in my room. All I can get to come out is cold water.”

March’s brows take an expeditious trip up to her hairline. “No way, you’re having problems too? I thought it was just me but I didn’t want to be a negative Nelly about it!”

Her arm lashes out like a striking serpent, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside.

The door bangs shut with a certain amount of indignation as she turns to look at you, worry flashing across her expression when she takes in the faint shudder making your shoulders bunch up. Standing this close to her, you can see that her hair is damp.

“Were you able to take a shower?”

“Not a very good one! The hot water only lasted for about fifteen minutes before it started to come out freezing cold!” Huffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “This place sure does look fancy but I’m so not impressed. What kind of operation do they think they’re running here, huh? Belobog is way too cold for them not to have working hot water tanks!”

You consider that for a brief moment. “Maybe that’s the problem? If a bunch of people are trying to bathe at the same time and using up all the hot water - -“

“Then they should’ve thought of that before they opened up a hotel! I mean, come on. That’s just common sense, right? And more importantly what’s up with you? You’ve been shivering non stop since I opened the door.”

Don’t tell her about the closet. Don’t tell her about your exploits inside the closet. Whatever you do, do not tell her about that damned closet.

“I think the chill is just starting to catch up with me.” You tell her, cool as … erm, ice. “I didn’t notice it too much at first but now I can’t stop shaking. I’d really like to take a hot shower.”

“I bet.” She murmurs. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Come on, let’s see if mine wants to work!”

Taking your hand in hers, March guides you over to her attached bathroom where she flips on the overhead lights. You’re impressed to find it’s an almost identical copy of yours, just mirrored. Actually, they looked like they were directly adjacent to one another and situated along the same wall. But would that in turn mean … they were sharing the same series of pipes? No, that couldn’t be. Such an obvious structural design flaw would have surely raised some questions, wouldn’t it?

Your attention thoughtfully drifts towards March as she bends over the side of the tub and smacks the faucet on. A familiar sense of deja vu comes over you when the gurgling sound of running water rushes in to dominate the air but she doesn’t seem to pay it much mind so neither do you. A few seconds pass before she tests the water, clicks her tongue in annoyance and draws her hand back before trying again just another few seconds later. Truthfully March’s impatience had never been quite so glaring as it is right now.

“Well, isn’t that just ridiculous!” She at last scoffs, evidently deeming the whole endeavor futile and turning the faucet off again. “It wouldn’t be such a big deal if this place wasn’t so cold. How is anyone coming in off the street supposed to get a good night’s rest if they can’t even have a warm shower?”

You ponder that question with the same weight and consideration as the last one she’d posed. “Maybe they don’t get many visitors? Just think about it. How many times have we heard now that Belobog is the ‘last bastion of humanity’? They probably don’t get much in the way of tourism.”

Turning, March pins you with an exceedingly strange look. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that but … wouldn’t that mean they’re mostly just keeping this place running for the sake of it? What a waste of resources.” She gives her head a quick shake. “Wait, that’s not important right now. We need to get you warmed up and safely tucked into bed! Do you want me to go down to the lobby with you to check what’s going on?”

“No, that’s okay.” You quickly wave that off, feeling more than just a little self conscious about causing her any trouble. “It’s already getting late and you need your rest for tomorrow. It wouldn’t make sense to waste so much time helping me with this when you could be sleeping instead.”

“Hey, now. The same goes for all three of us. We’re in this together and you’d better not forget that! I don’t mind lending a hand. We are crewmates after all!

“Thank you, really. But I’m sure I can figure something else out.”

“Fine, if you’re sure … but at least stop by Dan Heng’s room and see if he’s in the same boat as us. If not, maybe he’ll let you use his shower tonight?”

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Consideringly, you start to turn and March follows hot on your heels as you step back out through the doorway. “He went into the room right across from yours, right? Since they’re on opposite sides, maybe I will have better luck.”

“That’s the spirit! See, you just gotta’ keep your spirits high and everything will work out fine in the end. Isn’t that what they call trusting the process?”

Pausing in front of the door, you pivot to look back at her. “I don’t think that particular saying applies here.”

“Oh, whatever. Just go check in with Dan Heng and if he isn’t having any better luck come grab me again, okay? We’ll go down and talk to the receptionist together if we have to!”

You smile, even though you try very hard not to. “Thanks, March. I really appreciate it.”

Her voice follows after you as you open the door to see yourself out, a cheerful parting of ‘good luck!’ following you out into the hall. Of all the warm welcomes you’d been greeted with upon boarding the Express, hers was easily the warmest of them all. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to properly repay her for that but you were certainly going to try.

Out in the long carpeted corridor, you take a measly three steps to cross over to the opposite side and rap at the heavy wooden door. Dan Heng surprises you slightly when he opens up at the very first knock, almost like he’d been waiting just within.

“Is something the matter?”

The stark difference in your two companions' greetings makes something warm flicker to life inside your chest. You’d only known them and the rest of the Astral Express crew for a short while now but it was very much in line with what was quickly becoming comforting and familiar to you. March had been proactive and eager to know what you were doing while Dan Heng seemed to have concluded that something must be wrong if you were coming to his room like this. It was oddly reassuring, in a way.

“This is probably going to sound like a strange question but have you taken a shower yet?”

A vague look of confusion flashes across his face and then camps there. He was far from the most animated character you’d met on your journey thus far, but there’s no mistaking the look he levels on you now.

“I haven’t quite gotten around to it yet.” He says slowly. “I was just jotting down some observational notes in my phone to input in the database later. Why?”

“I don’t have any proof to back it up but I think March may have taken all my hot water. Our bathrooms are right next to each other.”

Dan Heng’s expression shifts and settles into a perplexed scowl. “Is that why you’re shaking? You’d think a place like this would understand the importance of resource allocation …” Sighing, he steps to the side. “Come in. We can check it together.”

Feeling the pitter patter of hope skip across your ribcage, you step inside with him. He closes the door and turns the lock in place (paranoid or overly cautious?) before leading you over to the bathroom. None of these hotel rooms are particularly big and the two of you are soon crowding around the porcelain tub together.

A steady turn of his wrist has the water gushing out, the same scene playing out for the third time in a row. Except it doesn’t take long at all for steam to start rising up from the faucet this go around and you feel like you could just collapse in relief. He still had hot water. You weren’t going to freeze to death after all.

“There,” He murmurs, straightening to his full height again. “Go ahead and take your shower in here. I’ll be in the other room so just give me a shout if you need anything.”

Dan Heng starts to turn, making your eyes go big and round with surprise. “But what about you? I don’t want to take up all of your hot water.”

“It’s fine. I can just grab one after you're done.”

“No, that won’t work.” You insist, reaching over to smack the faucet back off with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “March said she only had about fifteen minutes before the water started coming out cold. I’m not sure how long ago she took hers but when we checked it was still out of hot water.”

“Hmm,” He appears to hesitate at that, his gaze taking on the thoughtfully introspective look you were starting to recognize as the gears in his head turning. “Could it be that they get so few guests staying here that they just closed off some of the hot water pipes to ensure they don’t keep running? It’s not quite cold enough in the city for them to freeze so I don’t think it would hurt anything …”

“Right?” You lift your brows in emphasis. “If Belobog is the only human settlement on this planet then what’s the point in keeping an entire hotel up and running?”

“That’s a good point and I wondered about it as well. Unless this hotel was at one time meant to …” Humming softly under his breath, Dan Heng gives his head a slow shake. “No, there isn’t any point in speculating on that right now. We don’t have enough information to start making inferences. Figuring out what we’re going to do about the current problem should be our priority.”

A quiet beat passes, loud in the absence of running water.

“We could always shower together.”

Dan Heng’s head doesn’t so much as move even a fraction of an inch but his gaze snaps up at you lightning fast. The sharp intensity in his eyes immediately makes you regret saying it. Were you being weird again, despite the absence of the closet to facilitate or otherwise encourage your odd behavior? Or was it really the Stellaron mixing up the radio signals in your brain? You weren’t sure what you would do if you managed to scare him off the same way you’d sent the hotel staff running and screaming.

“Or,” He intones at length. “We could go down to the reception desk and ask them to look into it for us.”

“March said the same thing.”

“But?”

You breathe out a quick huff through your nose. “But that sounds like it might take a while. We’d have to explain what’s going on, have someone come take a look at it and then they’d try to fix it. We already agreed that we’ll have a busy day tomorrow so I don’t want to cause any trouble for either of you. Not if I can help it. This would be the faster solution, right?”

To his credit, Dan Heng’s expression softens in as much as it ever does. Which admittedly isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to be noticeable. “You aren’t causing problems for us. Don’t even give it another thought and, please, don’t ever let March hear you say that. I don’t doubt she’d take it upon herself to personally show you just how untrue that really is. That being said though, I can understand the reasoning. Doing it that way would be quicker.”

“But?” You volley it right back at him.

“There’s not actually a ‘but’ here. If you’re sure about it then I suppose I don’t mind going about it this way either. It would certainly get both of us into bed far quicker than any other alternative.”

You don’t exactly understand the eager thump your heart gives at his acquiescence but you allow yourself to smile up at him when the urge suddenly strikes you full force. “Then it’s settled?”

A curt nod. “Yes, although I do hope you actually know what it is we’ve just agreed to. If you change your mind at any point don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll get right out.”

“Don’t be silly.” You assure him, reaching for the hem of your loose fitted shirt. “I'd never kick you out like that, Dan Heng. Both of us deserve to go to bed nice and warm, and clean.”

He starts to open his mouth — to say what, you’re not sure, because it catches in his throat when you unceremoniously tug your shirt up over your head in one smooth motion. You lose sight of him for a brief moment through the soft knit cotton and by the time you get it pulled completely off he’s pointedly looking elsewhere. Anywhere but at you.

“Is something wrong?” You quietly venture, a soft note of uncertainty creeping into your voice now.

“No, it’s fine. Just … hurry up and get undressed so we can get this over with.” Decisively turning his back to you, he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. You hesitate, looking from him to the shirt balled up in your hands and then down at your own chest. A mild pang of relief comes over you at finding your plain black sports bra very much where it should have been.

So you hadn’t forgotten to put it on. Good. That could have been rather embarrassing for you.

In the same breath you abruptly realize that you were about to take it off and get naked in the same room with Dan Heng who was already working to get all of his clothes pulled off too. He seemed to understand that well enough. Perhaps even more so than you actually did. So why had he reacted like that when you’d taken off your blouse? Surely it wasn’t all that strange for someone to disrobe in front of another … was it?

Pondering this conundrum, you carefully watch Dan Heng fold and set his garments aside on top of the sink one layer and one deliberate motion at a time. His coat and the bracer worn on his right arm make up the bottom of the pile, followed by the lightweight hip guards worn around his waist along with the belt that secured it all. The second skin of his tight black shirt comes off next, revealing a smooth back that flexes powerfully with the overhead motion he uses to get it peeled away. It doesn’t escape your notice that, through it all, he makes a point of not looking at you. All of his attention remains forward and locked on the task at hand, neither uninhibitedly baring himself at you nor stealing any lingering glances in your direction.

It was almost as if in despite of the shared nudity that was inherent in an arrangement like this, he still wanted to give you your privacy. Or as much of it as one could possibly have when bathing with another person.

Was that what it was then? The root cause of his reaction was … reticence on his part? You hadn’t stopped long enough to consider that or any of the other potential implications that came with it but it seemed Dan Heng very much had. If he was behaving this way then you probably should be too.

With that decided, you turn away from him and mimic his actions of neatly folding your top. You don’t have anywhere else to put it though so you have to make do with setting it on top of the toilet lid. The following silence is surprisingly rife with some unnamed tension, interspersed only by the near constant rustle of clothes being removed. Your boots, socks, skirt and underwear are all soon discarded, and you have to try very hard not to look when you hear him shuffle towards the tub again.

“Ready? I’m going to turn the water back on.”

“Go ahead.”

The spout turns with a soft creak and the faucet roars to life, loudly spewing water into the basin. Same as before, and much to your relief, it only takes a few moments for steam to begin wafting up from the noisy deluge and start creeping into your periphery. He quickly smacks the plunger down to redirect the stream to the shower head and the bathroom is suddenly at least two octaves quieter than it was before. You could hear yourself think again. Thank goodness for that.

Silently, Dan Heng steps in first and you quickly scuttle after him. You weren’t keen on losing out on even a single drop of hot water but your refusal to look up from the floor makes actually getting into the shower a bit of an awkward process. You have to feel around with your foot to figure out how close you are and your big toe hits the side of the porcelain a bit too hard, making you hiss through your teeth. Quickly shaking it off though, you lift your leg and blindly step over the rim.

Only to slip when you come down wrong on the other side, the slick surface ripping you off balance with a gut wrenching lurch. You collapse forward, arms flailing, but Dan Heng is quick to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Once all I said done, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is smacking your knee into the wall.

“Owww …”

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? You could have seriously hurt yourself or broken your neck.” He snaps at you, his tone still as mild as it ever is but there’s no mistaking the sharp bite of reprimand lurking just below the surface. You feel vaguely like a troublesome toddler he’s been tasked with babysitting as he hauls you further into the safety of the tub before reaching up to pull the screen closed with a sound click of his tongue. “I was wondering what was taking you so long to get in but I didn’t expect you to jump without even looking first.”

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, still trying to keep your eyes averted as you carefully work to get your feet situated under you. “I just — I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“My privacy?” He echos you, incredulous. “You should have considered that before you suggested us taking a shower together. It’s a little late for it, don’t you think?”

Cautiously slow, you bring your hands up to brace them across his damp chest and gently push. Dan Heng’s hold on you hesitates and then relaxes, letting you pull free so you can take a step back. That his fingers linger at your forearms as if to steady you, or perhaps catch you should you slip and fall again, does not escape your notice, but you decide not to comment on that just yet. Or maybe ever, depending on how the next few minutes played out.

“Sorry.” It’s all you can think to say now.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. While I do appreciate the consideration, there’s no getting around the fact we’re going to see each other naked in a situation like this. It’s okay to look.”

“But?” You whisper into the steady stream of water coming down at his back.

“No ‘but’s. I’d much rather you look than hurt yourself.” His hands shift, adjusting to loosely grasp your elbows. When he gently tugs you in closer to him, you acquiesce without a fuss. You hadn’t noticed how big they were until now and that makes for an unexpectedly convincing argument to encourage your compliance. “Here, get under the shower head. We should make sure you warm up enough before we run out of hot water.”

You can’t exactly argue with that when the rising steam only seems to further highlight just how chilled your skin actually is so you let him get you spun around, trading spots. The steady, hammering rush of warmth hits you all at once as you’re directed into the spray and a violent shudder instantly races up your spine. Whimpering softly, you curl in on yourself as you bring your arms up to wrap them around your upper body. The resulting nudge against painfully hard nipples almost steals the air from your lungs but if Dan Heng notices the way you subtly jolt at the contact he doesn’t show it.

Evidently oblivious, he reaches up to almost casually palm the top of your head. At first you think he’s merely petting you in an uncharacteristic show of doting affection but you quickly realize he’s helping to work the water into your hair, ensuring it’s thoroughly sodden. Still uncharacteristic, or perhaps unprecedented was the better word, but decidedly nice.

Very nice, actually.

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort.” He eventually murmurs, more to himself than to you. No way were you about to pretend you hadn’t heard him though.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Me?” His blunt fingers pause in your hair. You can feel him peering down at you through the steamy gloom that encompasses the cramped tub but you were still hesitant to lift your eyes and look. There was no telling what you might accidentally catch a glimpse of.

You really had no idea, truth be told, but given his earlier reaction it seemed like one’s body wasn’t meant to be ogled or stared at. He’d looked away from you for a reason. It only seemed fair if you gave him the same courtesy.

A terse, silent moment passes.

Evidently realizing he wouldn’t be getting any further explanation, Dan Heng exhales a quiet sigh into the thickened air before directing his hands down to your shoulders. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Not only did that sound like a rare, once in a blue moon offer you were sure to never hear again, it also seemed way safer than facing him the whole time. You were already having trouble keeping your eyes from wandering from the single strip of his bare arm you’d settled on, having had no other choice when you were standing so close to each other.

So you gratefully pivot, giving him your back. Your shoulders start to relax from their defensive hunch now that the warm water is running down your front and slowly seeping into your skin. It seems to feed into the internal temperature of your core as he shifts behind you, reaching around for something out of sight. The next time his hands come up to touch your hair, it’s with a healthy dollop of shampoo coating his palms and fingers.

A soft sigh of contentment slips out of you as he starts to work it into a nice lather over your scalp, keeping your neck tipped back so he could still work without having to deny yourself the comfort of the shower head. He’s as diligent with this as he is everything else, yet so incredibly gentle about it that you almost start to doze right there on your feet. It felt beyond good. It was amazing.

“Gotta’ say I didn’t expect this Trailblaze mission to turn out like this.” He says at length, just when you’re starting to really drift off to la-la land.

Blinking yourself awake, you fix your attention on the ceiling. “Neither did I.”

“And to think, it’s only just started. You’ll have to forgive me if being I’m too rough by the way. I don’t often groom anyone else’s hair besides my own.”

“No, it’s perfect.”

He huffs a quiet laugh but refrains from saying anything further until another minute or two has gone by, and a nice, thick lather has accumulated over the circumference of your skull. “There, that should do it. Turn around again but keep your head tipped back so you don’t get suds in your eyes.”

Obediently, you move to spin around but you seem to have forgotten something rather important in your drowsy state. Namely your close proximity to one another, how very near you were standing to him. But it’s too late by the time you realize your mistake though, and your tits wetly swipe across the lower half of his chest with a sharp burst of fleshy friction. Both of you draw a quick inhale in near perfect unison at the contact and your eyes pop open where they’d started to slide shut again, suddenly wide awake.

For the first time since you’d stepped foot inside the shower, you find yourself looking directly up at Dan Heng. His startled expression must surely mirror yours because for a long time the two of you just stare at one another in mute silence. You aren’t sure what to make of this. Not the situation itself or the twisting knot low in your gut.

You think you should probably take a step back and put some much needed space between the two of you but you don’t get the chance. Unable (or perhaps unwilling?) to find the presence of mind to make your legs move before he reaches up to touch your hair again, you soon find yourself trapped between his arms. He’s got you caged in like this while he dutifully scrubs the shampoo away, evidently too committed to the task at hand to stand down even when a distant note of unmistakable fluster has settled across his normally stoic expression.

And as if Pandora’s Box had been effectively ripped open, like you couldn’t stop yourself now that you’d already looked once, your eyes start to wander. You take in his usually fluffy hair, now waterlogged and heavy across his brow, and the concentrated set of his mouth. Glancing lower, you can make out how well defined his chest and arms are, much more packed with muscle than one would expect from someone who, according to March, spent so much of his time in the databank room aboard the Express. You’d already seen him in action a handful of times though so it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. He was strong and his firm physique showed that. And even lower than that …

Your eyes widen at the sight of your breasts squished up against him. No wonder you’d felt that brush of skin on skin in such stunning high definition, even for as brief as it had been. What strikes you more than anything though is how soft and pliable your flesh looks shoved up against his. Where Dan Heng was hard with muscle and unrelenting, your chest was soft and invitingly malleable. A distant part of you innately understood that this was the physical difference between man and woman, the biological indicators of sex. It sparks something in the back of your mind and you fumble to grab hold of it, to comprehend what it means.

Your frantic internal grasping is interrupted when Dan Heng roughly clears his throat, prompting you to snap your attention up with a little jolt.

“Just what are you looking at?”

“N - nothing.” You stammer, suddenly embarrassed. You’re not entirely sure why you should feel hot with shame and something else you can’t quite put your finger on but there’s no denying it’s there. You couldn’t tell if you were about to wilt and wither, or bonelessly melt into him.

“I think I may have to take back what I said earlier.” He grumbles. “It might be preferable if you don’t look.”

“Wha - -“

You feel it then. A soft nudge against your lower belly that sends your heartbeat lurching into overdrive and your legs instantly turn limp like overcooked noodles. It’s an entirely instinctive reaction, one you don’t understand anymore than all of the other confusing happenings that have taken place in this hotel bathroom, but when you try to pull away to get a look at what’s tickling your bellybutton, he just clutches at you tighter to keep you in place.

“Please,” His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as he bends his head close, wincing even while he presses his damp forehead against yours. “Don’t move. Just … stay there until it goes away.”

His expression is wretched. Dark brows knitted to create a deep wrinkle between them, his eyes so pinched you could barely see the dull blue of his irises through thick lashes. It almost scares you. Almost makes you second guess the wisdom in sharing a shower with someone else. No, that wasn’t quite right.

It was a man you were bathing with and you were … a woman. That was what made this dangerous and ill advised. That was why he’d reacted the way he had at the start of all this. Oh, how terribly you had miscalculated the full scope of the situation.

It’s a struggle to swallow down your jittery nerves and find your voice but you finally manage, somehow. “Does it hurt, Dan Heng?”

“No.” He hisses, contradicting himself and what your eyes were clearly telling you. “This isn’t your fault or your problem. I should have been more cautious, that’s all. It’ll go away in time.”

You don’t think you very much like the sound of that. “But why? Why does it have to just go away if it’s making you uncomfortable? I can help you.”

Dan Heng sucks in such a sharp breath you can feel it rattling around inside his chest where you’re pressed right up against him. “Don’t say that.” He croaks. “You don’t know what it is you’re saying.”

“I can learn. You could teach me.”

“Dammit …!”

He stiffly shifts his weight then, redistributing his balance to the full center of his body. You got the distinct feeling he was trying to angle his pelvis away from you, to pull it out of reach where he could flag and soften without the close proximity of your body heat there to entice him. You rock with the motion though, follow the movement. Stay pressed against him and reach down with one hand to blindly feel for what was causing him such obvious distress.

Your wrist bumps against the stiff flesh jutting out from his body, making him groan very low in his throat. It’s easy to find now that you have a general idea and you carefully wrap your fingers around the width of him, surprised yet delighted to find the skin silky soft and smooth. He twitches in your hold and swells, getting harder. Rapidly filling the rest of the way out while Dan Heng holds himself so tightly that you think he might just shatter and break right before your very eyes. You can’t help it though. Not only was curiosity a very compelling factor here but you also cared about him a great deal. The thought of watching your friend and fellow crewmate suffer in silence right in front of you wrenches at your very heart and makes it hard to think rationally.

And it must be the same for Dan Heng too, because his fingers stay frozen in place as you feel along him. They remain buried in your hair, fervently clutching at your skull, as if you could be the lifeline that would save him but he continues to hold himself back for some reason. It’s hard to say if he’s scared of letting you go for fear of what he himself would do or because he feared what you might do to him with that freedom. He doesn’t try to stop you or pull away though. Just quietly seethes into the scant space separating you as you locate the bulbous head and give it a brief squeeze. That makes a tense shudder work through him, starting in the general vicinity of his hips before racing up to the rest of him. Distantly, you realize that he wants to roll his pelvis forward into the touch, to seek out more and bask in it, but he won’t.

“Why do you fight it, Dan Heng?”

He manages to choke out a mirthless laugh, though not without a good deal of effort. “We only just met not that long ago, for starters. It seems rude to act on such impulses given our brief rapport with one another.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Maybe I do.”

You don’t think you believe that. If he really meant it he would have put an end to it by now, or at least made a greater effort to do so. But he just stands there, softly panting while you follow the length of him down to the base where a thick patch of curls brushes against your knuckles. The weight of him in your hand is surprisingly satisfying and you just can’t seem to stop yourself from exploring him.

Twisting your hand downward, you find even more satiny soft skin waiting just below and you eagerly curl your fingers around that too. It’s incredibly pliant but he sucks in a sharp, gasping breath in response to being handled and your pulse erratically jumps with a start.

“Gentle. Those are — sensitive.”

“I’m sorry.” You murmur softly. “I could be a lot more careful if I could actually see what I was doing though.”

A low rumble starts up in his chest, so faint you almost miss it under the constant spray from the shower head. Your whole body flushes, warming to the point of real discomfort but he doesn’t give you enough time to fully process any of it. Not the unexpected noise or the curling tendril of wanting low in your stomach. Not even the fact that you were currently holding the full weight of his manhood in the palm of your hand.

To your genuine surprise, he starts to pull back. Extricates himself from you with exceedingly stiff motions that leave you fumbling for something to say. Another apology or perhaps a plea. You don’t know which and you never find out, because he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You have no choice but to comply as he guides you forward, pushing you almost right up against the interior wall of the shower and totally disregarding your mouse squeak protests while he does it.

“Stop hogging all the water.”

You open your mouth to snap back in response but all that comes out is a tiny little squawk of surprise when he pulls you back against him, moulding your wet back to the firm planes of his front. His hands drop to your waist then, taking bruising hold of your hips to press your lower body equally flush with his. There’s no mistaking the press of him now, the way it digs up into your lower back and slides into place along the middle seam of your backside like it naturally belonged there. It's as if you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe when he stiffly rolls his pelvis and grinds into you, somehow hesitant yet eager at the same time, before forcing himself to go still again.

“Sorry,” He says right into your ear, low and hushed, as the warm spray washes over both of you now. “I thought I could control myself better than this …”

“It’s okay.”

“It's not. You only just joined the Astral Express, not to mention you — the way we found you … it feels like I’m taking advantage of the situation but that was never my intention. I swear it.”

You understood what he meant even if he was reluctant to say it in quite so many words. There was a Stellaron inside of you but beyond that your identity was a complete unknown to everyone around you. Even you couldn’t say for sure who you were or who you’d once been, if you’d ever been anyone at all. That didn’t mean you were without your faculties though. You could still make decisions for yourself and take control of your own life. If that weren’t true then Himeko never would have given you the choice to join everyone on board the Express. This you knew to be true.

So you pointedly push back on him, meeting his next stiltedly reluctant thrust. Dan Heng’s fingers bite into the meat of your hips in return, clutching at you so desperately you half expect to find bruises blooming in the same spots later on. That doesn’t really matter right now though. What’s most important is not only helping him, alleviating the discomfort that so obviously pains him, but also proving your own autonomy. To him as much as to yourself.

“It’s okay, Dan Heng. You don’t have to hold back.”

Groaning softly in what you think must be relief, he huddles close and curls in tight against you. Nuzzles at your temple in a coaxing manner that makes you tip your head back towards him. Water runs down your face in heavy rivulets, matting your eyelashes together, but you pay it little mind. You’re much more interested in the way Dan Heng angles his mouth down and slots it against yours in a kiss that is equal parts tentative and demanding. The heightened state of his emotions is blatant in the hard press of his lips, the hungry pull that makes you want to submit and give him everything he could ever need or want. There’s a distant note of domination lurking under the surface of that heated exchange though, like he was innately drawn to claiming what he wanted for himself, but his level headed manners were still keeping him in check. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

You quickly make your choice and bring your hands up to take firm hold of his blocky wrists, making sure he doesn’t try to escape. Not that you actually thought he would when both of you were already in this deep, haltingly moving in tandem against one another, but you didn’t want his polite niceties to get the better of him. He either doesn’t suspect a thing or he simply doesn’t care though, because he just keeps kissing you even when you go up on your tiptoes to make his cock drag down your ass. The height difference makes it a bit awkward, a bit unrefined, but you manage to successfully raise up enough to leave him nudging at the space between your legs.

And when you come down again, trapping him in the soft squeeze of your thighs, he gasps like you’d just electrocuted him. The sound rattles inside his chest where it’s pressed into your back but, still, he doesn’t fight it. He doesn’t tell you to stop. Rather, he drags his palms lower to grab two big handfuls of your upper legs and press them more tightly together around him. You nearly lose balance and tip over in this unnatural stance but a quick hand slapped against the damp wall steadies you.

“Careful. If you continue to push this much further …”

The warning in his voice is clear as day but you don’t really care. Not when you could feel the faint pulse of him between your thighs and he was lined up so perfectly with the seam of your cunt that you could feel your own internal pressure ratcheting up another notch. This wasn’t exactly familiar territory, this pulse pounding excitement that makes you dizzy with a need you don’t fully understand, but the instinctive urge to nudge your hips back and forth feels much too natural for you to truly question it. So you just do it.

And oh, how you’re rewarded by the simple slide of him along your slit. Hot, blinding sparks flash behind your eyes and you almost swoon right there in his arms, but you know you have to keep moving. Need to chase that pinprick ember of satisfaction just as much as he does, and Dan Heng only reinforces that when he pulls you back to meet the next enthusiastic thrust of his hips.

A gasp catches in your throat at the wet, meaty smack and lodges there as you tip your face down to look at yourself. Some of your hair slips forward with the motion, wet and clinging, but you hardly even notice it with so much of your attention focused on your own body. Your nudity hadn’t felt so stark before, when you were simply focused on bathing and occupying space with him wherein the two of you just so happened to be naked together. It’s so different now looking at it through the hazy lens of intimacy though, the sight of your tits bare and wet stoking the flames within you to even greater heights. Beyond that, over the soft curve of your stomach and lower still, you can just make out the thatch of hair covering the cradle of your pelvis. And beneath that his cock head nudges out from between your legs, blooming for but a brief moment before retreating back into the tight squeeze.

It was enough to nearly make your knees buckle and give out.

“Oohhn,” You hiss into the constant spray, swaying in his hold. “Dan Heng … that feels - -“

“Incredible.”

You let out a soft moan in agreement, rocking in time with his steady thrusts. The height difference was a good thing, actually. It ensured he stayed pressed up tight against you, constantly knocking your cunt with a fleshy jostle whether he was pulling out or pushing in. It was a continuous cycle of pleasurable shockwaves that quickly leaves you panting just as heavily as he is, and you eagerly writhe against him when the pressure just continues to build and build. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense. What exactly had he done to you?

Had he even done anything at all, or was this just a natural result of your own needs mingling with his and feeding into one another? You couldn’t be sure. It was impossible to think straight when your cotton stuffed head was starting to spin alarmingly fast, but you decide that it doesn’t really matter either way. The drag of him against your cunt was enough. His possessive grip on your body was enough. There would be time to figure everything out later, after you’d properly taken care of each other, and you let yourself rock back into him with an accompanying groan that subtly rises in pitch at the tail end, basking in the litany of sensations.

“Can I —“ He suddenly blurts, choking on it. His fingers sink into your flesh so hard it starts to hurt and you let out a faint whimper while he struggles to reorient himself. “Can I … touch you?”

“Nnghn, ah - aren’t you already touching me?”

“More. I’d like to touch more of you, if you’ll permit it.”

You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. “Ooh … please, please touch me, Dan Heng. I feel … I feel like I’m - -“

His hands immediately fly up off your hips and greedily latch onto your breasts instead, lifting the weight of them in his palms. You suck in such a haggard breath you feel like you just might pass out on the spot as you arch against him, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Water from the shower head mercilessly pelts against your face now but you can’t be bothered to lobby any complaints about it when he’s cupping your tits as if they were meant to fit right there in his hold. It’s perfect and sublime, and it just ratchets your own excitement up another notch, making you impotently shudder.

This pulse pounding feeling of cresting pleasure may have been foreign to you, but you could already see yourself becoming irreversibly addicted to it. Perhaps this was even more dangerous than you’d first realized.

“Oh! If you do that …”

“Does it hurt?”

“I — I don’t know.”

He noises a faint sound of confusion at your quiet whimper, his hands loosening around your chest. You’re acutely aware of the odd little look he gives you through the swirling steam but can’t quite bring yourself to turn your face away. Whatever this was, whatever it meant in the long run, you wanted more of it. Needed more of him.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

A small frown graces his lips. “But you just said - -“

“I know. But I don’t want you to stop.” Carefully, you lift your hand — the one not currently braced against the wall — and cover one set of Dan Heng’s knuckles with your fingers. They seem dainty resting against his like this. “It feels kind of funny but I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t really understand what it means but … I want you to keep doing it. Please?”

Groaning like you’d just sucker punched him right in the gut, Dan Heng leans further into you until his weight presses you down into a half stooped position. His skin sticks to your back and clings but this too feels good. His body heat bleeds into you, warming you up far more than the shower ever could have, and you eagerly squeeze the muscles in your legs to keep them locked in place. This time when he kneads your breasts it’s much more tentative and slow. He takes his time with it, just savoring the fleshy give, and you keen very softly when he at last nudges one index finger up to brush it over your nipple.

You can feel yourself sinking deeper into that hazy fog as he starts to move again. The restrained power behind his thrusts sends fresh bursts of static energy coursing through your system, further highlighting the sensitivity of your aching teats as you rock with him, luxuriating in the fleshy drag of his stiff length against your cunt.

Pap. Pap. Pap.

He keeps the rhythm slow and even, but so vigorous that it pushes you forward and makes your tits bounce in his hold. You experience everything in stunning high definition from the slick dampness that oozes out of you to smooth the glide of him between your legs right down to the simple sensation of water running across your skin. It’s overwhelming and somehow still not enough. You couldn’t even think straight let alone formulate a semi coherent sentence, your tongue lolling heavily inside your mouth as you shudderingly rear back into him just to feel that delicious friction again. And he takes it in stride, never faltering no matter how wild you get or how hard you shake as the tumultuous waves crest a little bit higher each time. The firm, unyielding planes of his pelvis meeting with your backside, harder, faster. The distant tickle of coarse pubic hair digging into the vulnerably soft flesh of your ass. Even the low, guttural sounds he makes against the side of your face. You were so close to drowning in all of it.

His thick, callous worn fingers curling up to finally pinch at your nipples is what really sends you over the edge though. The sudden jolt of pleasure so intense it rides the line of being painful almost makes you collapse right then and there, and you throw yourself back into him with mindless desperation. Your hips seem to move on their own even as you cry out for him, judderingly grinding yourself down on that rock hard length pressed up into you.

“Ooh, Dan Heng!”

“Please don’t say my name like that.” He quietly wheezes under his breath, still pinching at your breasts. Still pulling and tweaking, using his thumb to brush over them and flick the tightly coiled peaks back and forth. Your body was a livewire just waiting to detonate, and it doesn’t seem to escape his notice. It’s apparent in the way he’s so insistent with his ministrations, encouraging you to keep moving your cunt back and forth, back and forth against him with nothing more than the attention he gives your tits. He takes his time rolling them between the two pads to reward you for your efforts and he gives them a slow, encouraging tug any time your pace falters and you start to slow down.

It’s a vicious cycle that perfectly feeds into itself a hundred times over and keeps you balanced right on the precipice of some great, harrowing free fall. The world could have come to a sudden, fiery end at that very moment and you never would have noticed. All of your attention, your entire being, was for Dan Heng and only Dan Heng in that moment. His hands, his lips brushing your neck and your cheek when he nuzzles into you. The constant motion of his thighs flexing behind you, driving himself unendingly into the hot, damp spot between your legs. His taller, wider frame trembling against yours with all the pent up tension running through it that so perfectly mirrors your own.

You’d never felt anything like it before, and a very small voice in the back of your mind wonders if you’ll ever feel it again. Was this a once in a lifetime experience? A fleeting mercurial high that would disappear in a flash bang of white noise the second you tipped over into the awaiting abyss below?

If that was the case, if you were destined to bask in this dwindling euphoria once and only once in your lifetime, then you were determined to milk every last drop of enjoyment out of it while you could.

So you drop your hands and reach back, grabbing two biting fistfuls of Dan Heng’s narrow hips. Use the leverage to draw him in against you at a quicker pace, forcing him to snap his pelvis into your backside with greater ferocity. He issues a wounded, faltering grunt into the air but he doesn’t fight it. He hasn’t truly fought anything you’ve offered up to him on a silver platter, not once telling you ‘no’ since you first stepped foot into this bathroom together, and that knowledge sparks a simmering ember deep within your gut. It’s the taste of victory. Of conquest and self assured confidence that can only be achieved through the meeting of two compatible bodies.

You’re sure of it. Innately, or perhaps intrinsically, you just know that’s what it is.

“Oh, gods,” He rattles out, gritting through tightly clenched teeth while he fucks himself between your thighs, pistoning in and out of the tight squeeze like a jackhammer. “I’m so close — so close, I - I can’t hold it back anymore.”

You would’ve voiced your agreement if only you’d had the ability to do so. The breakneck speed at which he ruts into you effectively steals the air from your lungs though and it’s all you can do just to hold on, clutching at his powerfully flexing hips to ground yourself rather than to encourage him. He didn’t need more encouragement anyway. That one little nudge from you was more than enough and now he couldn’t quite seem to remember to be polite and gentle with you.

The wet smack of his pelvis slamming into your ass is now loud, almost defeaning, and it comes in rapid fire succession to damn near down out even the constant spray of the shower head. It just amplifies the already searing friction against your cunt until it seems to blur into a single, persistent tingle that just grows and grows to the point of delirium. He can’t help himself and neither can you. Not anymore.

“Dan Heng - -“

A truly bestial snarl snakes out of him. His fingers falter, slipping and sliding against your wet teats before adjusting to latch onto the bouncing meat of your breasts instead. What little bit of control he’d still been clinging to dissipates like dust in the wind, and he clings to you so hard it brings tears to your eyes. The demanding press of his fingers sinking into your flesh sends you over the edge with a sudden, lurching jolt as your pussy clenches up and squeezes uncontrollably against his length. Even when you wail out in high strung relief, trembling violently in the throes of your release, he just keeps humping into you like he’d die if he doesn’t chase his own pleasure quickly enough. That continuous drag over your slit just draws out your own involuntary spasms and you can’t help but cry out in oversensitized bliss even as you somewhat awkwardly twist in his arms to look down at yourself.

Numbly, you watch his flushed glans appear between the fleshy press of your legs, quickly disappear and then immediately reappear again just a split second later. He’s pounding into you so fast and so hard that the resulting shockwaves make your thighs jiggle slightly under the force. It’s incredibly fascinating to witness though and you stare at it in a trancelike stupor, barely even registering the pitchy moan he lets out right against your temple.

The next time his cock appears it’s with an eruption of creamy white discharge that shoots out to splatter across the floor and the wall, some of it smearing over the skin where the two of you are connected. Hissing like his soul is actively trying to leave his body, Dan Heng haltingly slows to a stiff roll of his hips that makes his length nudge back and forth just enough to drain the rest of his explosive release. Another healthy spurt rushes out of him and then a savory dribble quickly follows, thickly oozing from the tip to drip onto the floor between your feet. It’s over, just like that, and you blink rather owlishly down at the evidence of your illicit encounter as he heaves a deeply satisfied sigh of pleasure.

It’s a little hard to wrap your mind around what had just transpired, especially when you were still floating in the afterglow and well satiated, but you snap back into the moment when he carefully starts to straighten up. You hadn’t even realized he’d dropped into a partial crouch to better accommodate the height difference, and you turn in his hold to look back at him.

“Dan Heng … are you - -“

“We need to get out.” He cuts across you, back to being the same mild and polite Dan Heng you were used to, but at the questioning lift of your brows he sheepishly glances away. “The water is beginning to turn cold so we need to get out before you start shivering again. Otherwise that would completely defeat the purpose of doing this in the first place.”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed, truth be told, but you shift to the side when he reaches around you to smack the faucet off. The room goes suddenly quiet, save the dull drip of water droplets running from the spout and two sets of deep breaths coming from you and him. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t noticed that either but your heart was indeed pounding a wild rhythm against your chest, and you reach up to idly touch over your pulse. Wild and erratic, just like you’d felt leading up to that mind numbing crescendo.

What the hell had all that been?

“Let me get you a towel.” You hear him say, and you bring your head up in time to watch him flick the screen open with a sluggish motion.

“What about you? You didn’t even get to wash your hair.”

Dan Heng looses a soft bark of laughter as he steps out onto the waiting mat, giving you your first real look at his nude body. He’s all lean and svelte with a perfectly tapered waist and broad shoulders, and — he abruptly turns to face you without warning. You’re suddenly looking right at him. The cut lines of his pelvis and the perfect little bellybutton stamped right in the center of it; the damp mess of dark, dark hair crowning his softened cock and the unmistakable weight of it …

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel vaguely faint even as you smack a hand up to your mouth and quickly look away in embarrassment. You’d never seen one before. Or at least, you’re pretty sure you haven’t. That doesn’t exactly stop your body from reacting to it though and your knees turn instantly wobbly again to accompany the instinctive urge to touch him, taste him. To feel him moving inside of you with the same keen ferocity he’d shown your thighs. Gods, you were like some kind of pervert!

“After all that you’re finally getting shy?” He laughs, bemused, but you can’t quite bring yourself to lift your gaze again. The risk of jumping his bones seemed far too great for you to take that chance right now. But luckily for you, Dan Heng is much too conscientious to hold it over your head and you soon catch the sound of him shuffling for a towel just another moment later. “I’ll cover up if that will make you feel better but don’t think you’re going to get out of this without having a talk with me first. I meant it when I said I had no intention of taking advantage of you. This isn’t something we can just pretend never happened, you know.”

Cautiously slow, you peek over at him from the corner of your eye just in time to get one last good look at his tight backside before a towel slides into place around his waist. You may not have been able to see it anymore but that certainly wasn’t going to stop you from thinking about it well into the foreseeable future. Curse him and his gorgeous body. “Are you … upset that we did that?”

“Not at all. I only want to check in with you and find out what you want.”

Now that manages to throw you for a loop. “What do you mean? I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

Sighing softly, Dan Heng pivots back around to face you again. “That’s precisely why. You obviously have no expectations in place and some men would probably try to take advantage of that to use you for sex. I’m not like that though. If you want to do this the right way then I would likewise be amenable to that possibility. If you want to keep things casual that’s fine too. And if you never want to see my face again … well, I couldn’t exactly blame you for that I suppose.”

Confusion marches rampant through your mind until the lightbulb abruptly clicks on. He was talking about taking responsibility for his actions. Of giving you the proper respect and courtesy of having a choice. Dan Heng clearly had no desire to withhold an actual relationship from you if that was what you wanted but he also wasn’t going to force it on you either. How interesting. How very — chivalrous of him.

Your heart gives a tiny little thump against your ribcage, and you smile over at him. Eager and pleased by this revelation, but a bit nervous too. Whoever would’ve thought something as benign as sharing a shower together out of necessity would end with talks of a potential future together.

“Is everyone on the Express as old fashioned as you are?”

He smiles back, gracing you with a small but no less frustratingly charming grin. “In this aspect, I’m afraid it’s just me. Think you're up for it?”

“Yeah, I think I might be.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#star rail #dan heng #dan heng x reader #self insert bullshit

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