#and hes stuffing his whole fist in his mouth trying not to laugh at the caster trying to interview jim

[dykecassidy]

again dont mistake this for complaining but its always normie jim and for once id like to see normie dustin

[smuttyaf]

I Hate You

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲. 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞

wc: 5.4k

“If you don’t stop I’m going to jam that pen through your ear.”

That makes the curly brunette man take his thumb off the button, eyes shifting to give a sidelong glance at you, his mouth slightly agape as he takes in the words.

You had enough of the fingers drumming against the wooden table, the shifting around in his seat constantly, and you definitely had it when he begin clicking his pen away as if you weren’t beside him through this whole class.

“I wanna see you try.” He whispers back, his head turning to smirk at you as his pen now taps against the table gently. Oh, did you want to ring your hands around his neck.

Harry Styles, the man on campus that everyone is friends with and the one that has all the ladies gossiping about. Despite him being known for his social life he also was part of a fraternity. They were popular for throwing the most outrageous parties but also pulling the stupidest pranks throughout the year— you absolutely despised them. Sloppy drinking, chain-smoking, and making themselves look like complete idiots streaking during the schools football games.

So when you walked into your English Lit class and your teacher decided to sit you next to each other for the whole semester, you wanted to claw your eyes out. Every class he would come in and purposely let his bag hit your head, his feet kicking the leg of your chair as his knees would dig into your lower back before taking his seat. At first, you paid no mind to it because it was a tight space to fit in, however when it became an everyday occurrence and his sarcastic smile and fake tone of apologies would start you would just roll your eyes.

But, him sitting next you in class wasn’t the worse thing… It was the fact that your dorm roommate was dating one of his fraternity brothers. So nearly every weekend or event that they hosted, you always managed to get dragged along to have him pick on you.

You didn’t like Harry at all. You didn’t like his stupid curls, his laugh, or tattoos that make him look like a unfinished scrapbook, and you definitely did not like the fact that he stares back at you as if you were a joke.

You squint your eyes at him and press your lips together, your fingers that were pressed into the keys of your laptop curling in on themselves as you resist the urge to strike him.

“Easy there,” He chuckles, his eyes flickering to your balled up fists before turning his head towards the teacher, the grey haired man stands in front of the podium making drastic gestures with his hands. “You wouldn’t hurt me, now would you?” Harry questions, his pen going behind his ear as he closes his laptop and notebook, stuffing it into his bag.

Before you know it, Mr. Dawson is announcing the homework for over the weekend while telling everyone he’ll see them Monday. The seat next to you pushes away from the table, and you feel his feet kick your chair and knees dig into your back. Only making your fists grow even tighter, you plant your feet flat on the carpet and push your chair against his bent legs, that makes a groan escape Harry’s lips as you stand with your closed laptop and bag, eyes staring into each other as you look at him amused.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, now would you?” You mock him before tugging off to the library.

Why couldn’t you have one encounter with him were he wasn’t a complete dickhead.

White mini skirt and matching tube top cling to your skin, the pink cropped leather jacket shifted tightly on your shoulders as your feet tip toe towards the mirror to see yourself. You thought you looked stupid, but Faye thought otherwise.

“You need to dress like this more,” She insisted, her brown eyes wide as they scaled your body. You shook your head and groan.

“Like a joke?” You sigh, your head leaning to the side as you looked at your figure. You were never one to dress in revealing clothes, you loved crewnecks and cargo pants, especially your Converses and Vans.

“Hey!” Faye says while giving you a puzzled look.

“You know what I mean, this stuff looks good on you… not me…” You say, body now turning in the mirror to see your side profile.

You had no choice but to dress as if you were a plastic doll. The Barbie movie just recently came out which made Faye’s boyfriend, Niall, think it would be a good idea to throw a party insisting everyone dress up as if they were in “Barbie’s Dream House”. That’s why you’re standing in the mirror, white opened toed heels and curled hair staring back at you as Faye tried to make you look like Biker Barbie.

“You look hot Y/N, don’t overthink it,” She says while taking your shoulders in her hands and shaking you gently, making you let out a nervous laugh.

She’s right, don’t overthink it, you’ll most likely be surrounded by dim lights and drunken bodies that no one will even notice your change of appearance.

However, despite those words that played over and over again in the back of your head, your thoughts begin to fill as you stepped into the house. Each person you passed by, gazing their eyes over your skin, lazy smiles sent your way while winks would drop other times, and you just simply wanted to disappear.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Faye yells in your ear over the pumping music. You nod your head in agreement and made your way into the familiar kitchen.

“Fancy seeing you here!” The usual Irish voice of Niall calls to Faye as he brings her into embrace. You let a small smile slip on your lips before you see Harry next to him with an amused face.

As Faye and Niall chatted with each other while taking red cups apart to pour liquor in, Harry stepped closer to you; his curls are tossed away behind his ears as he had a sleeveless light blue jean jacket with matching pants on, his tattoos exposed and glistening against the lights.

“You look good for once!” He quips, his red cup knocking against his chest. The smile falls from your lips as you send daggers at him.

“Do you ever shut up,” You say, your eyes tearing away from him and to the red cup that Faye hands you.

“Hey! I was being nice for once!” Harry chimed, lips dropping into a pout as you watch his free hand raise to his chest in hurt. Instead, you ignore him and pay attention to whatever Faye was talking about but that doesn’t last long when you feel a finger poke your hip and you’re glaring back at the tattooed man.

“Am I not Kenough?” He questions, and that only makes you snort as a laugh trails out after, understanding his reference. “There it is,” Harry grins as he takes a drink from his cup. You only roll your eyes and focus back on the previous conversation.

“Whatever,” You mutter while taking a sip of your overly strong drink.

Soon that cup turned to four more, the overthinking thoughts about how embarrassing you thought you looked tonight slipped your mind as you were dancing with the cute boy in your Social Science course, your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck as he runts his hips against your backside.

For once, you were actually happy that you came to the party and drunk more than your normal limit. You were fed up with school and with midterms around the corner, you needed this type of fun. As you felt the room beginning to twist in your version, you turn around in Caleb’s hold and let your hands rest along his chest.

“Tired?” He questions, brown eyes peering down at you as his lips tucked into his teeth. You nodded your head in response, your finger tips feeling over his flannel as you lean into him.

“Let’s go upstairs Kels,” Caleb leans down and whispers but that only makes a frown tug on your lips.

“Kels? I’m Y/N.” You state, tone filled with annoyance that the man you had your eyes on in class had his elsewhere. You feel his head move away from your ear, his eyes raking over your face as a goofy grin begins to spread.

“Oh! Y/N! You look so different… you’re not dressed like a boy, I like it!” Caleb says, only making your stomach twist in disgust.

“Yeah…” You say, small smile replacing the frown as you feel yourself step back from his touch. “I’m just gonna go to the washroom,” You rush, tearing away from his hold and not waiting for his response.

You felt your throat begin to swell as you tried to push your way through the mess of people on the makeshift dance floor. You’re not dressed like a boy. Was he serious? That’s what he thought when he saw you? Even the fact that he called you someone else’s name! You wanted to crawl into your bed and die.

Shouts begin to ring out as the floor vibrates, everyone jumping to the party anthem playing which only makes your exit out of the living room worse. You felt your cheeks heat up and tears at the brim of your eyes, just wanting to go to the bathroom as soon as possible to let them escape.

But just your luck, as the chorus rings through the air the floor boards pound under your heels, you feel cool liquid running from your chest to your stomach. Brown booze dripping on the burrowed two piece outfit and at that point you feel your ears burn, and if you could grow horns out of your head you’re sure they would be there.

Your gaze turns away from your sticky stomach and towards the culprit who spilled it on you, your eyes meeting the familiar green ones who sits next to you in English. As your lips press together and your finger nails leave indents in your skin, you watch Harry’s eyes bulge and his mouth drop in complete shock.

“I— I’m so sorry.. I d—didn’t mean too—“

“I hate you.” You spew, cutting him off and giving him an icy glare. Your body immediately brushing past him and traveling upstairs to get away from the party that you now wished you didn’t attend at all.

Of course, Harry had to be the one to top off this moment and ruin your outfit that you know you’d have to pay Faye back for— because this was definitely not coming out. You could handle his kicking and snarky comments, but draw the line at him completely damaging something that didn’t belong to you.

You were pissed, drunk, and wanted to be buried six feet under; but instead you stomped your way up the stairs and into an empty bedroom.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you see the stain taking up the white material, only making your eyes press shut as you feel tears begin to trail down your cheeks. This was so embarrassing; first you’re wearing something you wouldn’t ever step out in, you finally have a moment with the guy you’ve been staring at since the beginning of the semester— just for him to say you dress like a boy! And to top it off, now you have a full cup of god knows what all over you. This night sucked.

“Y/N…” You hear Harry’s voice behind the door with a knock. You open your eyes and roll them, throat letting a sigh slip out as you run your fingers against your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“What.” You say back, turning around to rest your back against the sink.

“I—I’m being so honest with you, I didn’t mean to spill my drink on you, I promise, it was a mistake.” Harry said behind the door, his voice muffled but you can tell for once he actually sounds sincere, but who knows he also could be faking it to make you feel better.

“Sure Harry,” You called back, hand leaning down as you rake your fingers through your hair, the tear streaks drying on your skin and making your cheeks feel tight when you speak.

With surprise you heard the rumble of the door knob and soon is faced with Harry who actually has a sad look written on his features.

“Ever heard of privacy,” You mutter, your eyes tearing away from his and looking at the white tiled floor.

“It’s my bathroom,” Harry responds, only making you suck in your breath and fingers drum against the porcelain sink, not realizing it was his room you escaped too.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” You rush, eyes still down as you break away from your stance and move towards the door. That only makes Harry stand in front of you and block your movements.

“No it’s okay don’t worry, it’s my fault. Believe me Y/N, I really didn’t mean to fuck up your outfit.” He says, genuinely which makes your gaze tear and lock with his. Your breath catches in your throat because for once he doesn’t have a menacing look.

“Okay.” You say, lips being sucked into your mouth as your stare never wavers.

“L—Let me get you a change of clothes,” Harry urges, his feet stepping back as he makes his way out of the bathroom and walk over to his dresser. This makes you trail behind him as your hands tug at the bottom of the dirty skirt riding up.

“Oh spare clothes of the girls you sleep with, yay,” You sarcastically remarked, heels clicking against the floor boards as you followed him.

“Ha ha.” Harry says, his voice serious as he dug into his top drawer and pulled out a plain black tee. That only makes you chew down on your lip, your fingers taking the garment in your hand, eyes running over how big it is compared to your frame.

“Trust me, everyone will be too drunk to remember what people were wearing tonight,” He spoke, both of his hands going to either side of him as he leans against the dresser, and maybe it’s the alcohol in your system but the way he is against the furniture with his jacket opened displaying his tattoos, has your mind forgetting about his treatment towards you over the past few months.

“I figured,” You mumble as you tear the t-shirt away from your chest and your eyes flicker between it and the brunette before you. “Uh.. can you turn around?” You question while beginning to shrug off the pink leather jacket.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Harry scoffs while tearing his tattooed arm off the dresser and letting his hand cover his eyes. You scoff while kicking off your heels and tugging the damp clothing off your skin. “What?” Harry counters, you see his eyebrows push together in his palm as he questions your response.

“I just dress like a boy… that’s all. I bet I’m not exactly the girl you look at…” You mumble, the feeling of the clean fabric running down your skin makes your fingers gaze over it.

“I think you dress cute,” Harry confesses. The compliment making your cheeks heat up and your palms grow with sweat. You really shouldn’t even be glowing from his words. This was the guy who tormented you since September; hitting you with his book bag, giving snarky comments and mean jabs. Why are his words making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You’re just saying that, let’s not forget what you said in the kitchen…” You respond, leaning down and picking up the drenched clothing and balling them together. “You can look now.” You state, as you see him put his hand down and give you a bright smile. The way he’s acting so different from what you’re use to, maybe it’s the alcohol in both of your systems.

“You know I was just teasing… but why does it even matter?” Harry ask, that only makes your eyes tear away and look at your polished toes running over each other against the dark hard wood.

“It’s nothing… it’s whatever really,” You sigh, fingers now playing with the ends of his shirt.

“Is that what the guy you were dancing with told you?” Harry asks, only making your head snap up and send him questioning gaze.

“You were watching me?” You inquire. His turn to now dip his head down and avoid your eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that… I just noticed, that’s all.” He says, his head swinging a bit as he lifts himself off the dresser and makes a step towards you, his hand taking the wet clothes.

“Promise I’ll get the stain out,” He remarks, a goofy look on his face and that only makes you smirk.

“Make that promise to Faye, not me.”

“Fuck… She’s gonna have me dead.”

The two of you erupting in drunken laughter at the image of Faye seeing her ruined garments, just knowing the screaming match she’ll have with Harry.

“Why can’t you be like this all the time?” You asked, your hand reaching to your chest as you try to regain your breath.

“You’re the one who hates me,” Harry says giving you a pointed look. “You’re the one who’s mean to me.” You remark your chin tilting as you stare up at him.

“You can’t even blame me,” He smiles while rolling his eyes, his arms crossing over each other and the heat of him radiates onto your body. “You’re cute when you’re mad.” His head leaning down and placing a small peck on your lips.

You were stunned in place, your eyes still open as he continues to place small kisses on your lips. As you leaned in closer to him, his hands tore away from his chest to drop the clothes and hold your hips. What the fuck was actually going on right now? You were really kissing Harry and it felt good— you didn’t want to admit.

The peppering kisses turned into lips syncing onto each other, your eyes now fluttering shut while your hands lie on his inked chest. It felt so wrong but the way his lips tasted of cherry coke and rum, you wanted to get drunk off it.

Deep breathes and needy hands were soon shared between the both, your fingers were now running through the hair on the nape of his neck while his roams your backside. The way his huge hands were pushing your cheeks and shoving you closer to him made you wet.

You pulled away from his lips, a string of saliva linking you too together which makes Harry smirk, his eyes glossy and lips bruised red. You wanted to fuck him so bad.

“You’re a shit kisser.” You remark. His smirk falling as his hands tighten around your ass.

“Shut up,” He mutters before pressing his lips roughly against yours, his fingers slipping deeper to cup your bum, some digits gliding over your heat only making you whimper at the touch.

His tongue tangled with yours as his chest closed the space left between you two. Harry’s weight molding onto you as he forces you to take steps back until your knees hit the bed frame and you’re falling back onto the mattress. You let your elbows push you up on the bed, your eyes locking with his as he lowers himself on you, his lips pressing back against you as your thighs bring him in.

His clothed member pushes against your heat which only makes a whimper escape, you still can’t get over that he has his tongue in your mouth but now you’re making him hard. Was this really the same guy you were cussing at just a few hours ago.

Harry’s hands move away from your shoulders and spread to where your thighs hold him, the way his hands feel running down your skin has you pushing yourself deeper into his touch.

“Easy there…” He mutters against your lips when he pulls away, his lips traveling to your neck to then run over your clothed breasts, his eyes looking to yours as his lips gaze your nipples. You wanted to moan at the sight, the way his curls surrounded his face, his green orbs staring back at you while he descended down your body.

“Harry,” You whisper when you feel his breath rush over your stomach, his hands slipping under his shirt and feeling over your hips before playing with the band of your panties.

His response to the call of his name, was peeling the material down your legs and his mouth pressing open kisses onto your hip bone. Your heart beat was making your chest hurt from how nervous yet excited you are; was this really about to happen?

Your question was soon answered when you felt his breath against your heat, his hands pushing the shirt over your hips as you watch his curls brush against your inner thighs when you feel him lick a stripe up your folds. This made you dig your teeth into your bottom lip because, yeah this was happening.

Green eyes looking back at you as his tongue runs back up your slit to let it circle around your clit, lips suckling on the nerves before dangling it with his tongue again. This made your head knock back and your eyes flutter shut, he was teasing you, like he always does.

His mouth repeats those motions as moans tremble from your lips, head resting on your shoulder as you look at him sucking your folds. You let your free hand run through his hair, tugging at it lightly.

“I know you can do better than that.” You remark, eyes batting at him slowly as you push back down on him. In that moment you swear you watched his eyes glaze over a different shade, his hands gripping against your hips roughly as he lets his tongue delve into you.

Thick and slicked with spit his muscle flexed it’s way between your folds, his nose rubbing against your clit as he licked into you, humming against your heat as his nails left indents in your skin. Words can’t even express how it felt, the way his tongue just roamed inside you so wickedly that it had whimpers and moans leave you.

The view of him was even better, his eyes fluttering as he looked like he was pleased with the way you tasted, his hair falling over his forehead. The look of Harry between your legs only makes you moan again and squeeze your thighs against his face, his fingers bruising your skin from how hard he’s holding you.

You let your back completely fall to the mattress, both hands now carding though his hair as you let your hips roll against his mouth, his tongue now lying flat against your heat as he lets you ride him. Hips running up and down the expanse of his muscle, clit smoothing against taste buds as you work yourself on him, Harry’s mouth moaning against your pussy as he peeled his eyes open to stare at you, the sight making you moan immediately.

You were too tipsy to even comprehend that this was actual reality; you were suppose to hate Harry, despise him! Yet, he was between your legs and sending shockwaves throughout your nerves.

Fingers tighten in the curly locks as your hips stutter and jerk on his tongue, the sinking feeling in your abdomen tightens as your orgasm creeps upon you. The feeling of his fingers pushing down on your hips making you seep deeper into the mattress, and moan at the roughness of his touch.

The ball in your stomach begins to build, your chest breathing in shallow breaths as your thighs twitch, his tongue licking you into bliss. Just as you feel the nerves in your stomach nearly burst, the heat of his muscle tears away and makes a cry leave your lips while Harry placed wet kisses up your body.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let you get off this easy,” Harry hums against you, his hands leaving your hips and letting it rake his shirt over your head. They then go to take off his jacket and tug his jeans down, your hands immediately going to peel his boxers down his thighs.

“For someone who hates me so much, you really want my dick right now,” He mutters, his hand going to his exposed member and rubbing himself, the sight making you clench your legs.

Now, you can really see what the girls on your campus were talking about; the way his hair dropped in loose curls surrounding his face, tattoos that flex so nicely in the dim lighting of the room, and the way he’s staring at you like he’s craving you. You finally see it.

Harry lets himself run against your heat, his head lying on your clit and rubbing over it only making you suck in a breath. He was pressed so nice and warm against you while toying with your nerves. Seconds later, he leans down and lets drool slip from between his lips to trace down his dick to drip between your exposed folds. You wanted to look at this sight forever, but you hate the fact that you like this so much but can’t help but too, Harry was hot you had to admit.

The thoughts leave your mind when you feel his head slip into you, edging himself back out slowly before continuing to seep back in. Once again, he was teasing you but you had enough with this game since you just wanted the feeling of him inside you finally.

You let your hands dig into the sheets while moving your hips down on him, his dick slipping deeper into you which only elects moans from both of you. The thickness of him buried around your tight walls sends a blissful sensation of yourself stretching around him, your mouth hangs slightly open while your eyes flutter.

Harry doesn’t take the chance to tease you anymore, instead he slips all of himself inside of you before drawing back slowly and sinking into your dripping pussy. His head leaning down to lay in the crook of your neck and press kisses against the skin there, while he continue to peel his hips back and dive back into you.

“Pussy feels so good,” Harry grunts into your ear as he begins to pick up the pace and smack his hips against yours.

Your eyes peel open and let your hands rest along his ribs, your head knocked back into the pillows and gaze caught between the loose ringlets of his curls and the popcorn ceiling, as the sound of the wetness between your legs is accompanied by the slamming of his hips fills the room. You couldn’t remember the last time you had mind blowing sex like this, it must be months now. But, the wait was definitely worth it, because the feeling of Harry’s dick diving into you while his grunts and moans filled your ear was something that you wanted to last forever.

Yet, you still couldn’t believe it was him doing this to you. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this. The man you’re suppose to hate is filling your walls and captivating every cell in your body to fall under his spell.

“You fill me up so—“ You’re words being cut off when you feel Harry pull himself out until his head is breached and thrust back into you, the motions repeating themselves which only makes your mouth hang open and your nails sink into his skin.

Completely cut off guard by the change of his rhythm, you were starstruck. Your eyes fluttering close and letting him do absolutely whatever he wanted to you, just accepting the fact that he was digging into you so deliciously that you had no words to express what you were feeling.

The smell of rum and cherry fills your nose as you feel his lips link with you, his mouth moaning when your tongues lock together, hips never stopping their tantalizing movements. The feeling of him filling up your pussy with his thickness, the way you managed to become more wet by the different flow of his hips, the way his body heat covered you like a blanket.

The familiar feeling of your climax welcomes you again as Harry keeps on thrusting himself inside of you. The ball in your stomach, unraveling with each stroke only making your thighs clench tighter and pull him into you more.

“Mhm… you like me fucking you?” Harry breathes against your lips only making you cry out in frustration as you feel yourself beginning to come apart underneath him, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this is only bringing it on even more.

You nodded your head silently, eyes fluttering open to peer into his olive ones while his bushy eyebrows were knit together.

“Answer me,” He continues his hand that was by your head wrapping around your throat and you knew just by the feeling of his fingers against the skin there, you were done.

“Yes,” You cried out, eyes never tearing away as you felt the bundle of nerves in your stomach burn inside you. Your legs shaking, thighs wrapping tighter around him and nails now dragging down his sides tiredly as the feeling of pure euphoria washes over you.

Harry thrusts however never slowed down, he kept the rhythm while staring down at you, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he watched your face go through phases of pleasure. Your fingers leave his back and trail to his neck, legs hanging loosely around him while you stare back up at him, the beating in your heart slowing down compared to the way it was erratically beating before.

“You’re so hot when you come all over me,” He mutters, his head dipping down and now sucking bruises onto your skin. Butterflies spread in your stomach and to stop a smile from forming you bite the inside of your cheek.

His hips begin to slow, breath blowing over you shallowly and the feeling of him sliding between your walls steadily, only making you crane your neck to the side to get him to look at you. Harry tears his head away from your neck, his lips stuck between his teeth and brows still furrowed.

“Fuck,” He grunts, the feeling of him buried in your heat immediately withdrawn as his warm seed spills on your stomach. You watch his chest heave up and down as he regains his breath. Soon, the warmth of him leaves your body as you watch him sit back on his knees, his arm reaching over to his discarded shirt you once wore and wiping away the fluid.

“Seems like you just make a mess everywhere you go,” You remark, that only makes Harry let out a small laugh before tossing his shirt on the floor. He tugs his boxers over his hips and kicks the rest of his jeans off, you let yourself slip into the sheets while he lies next you.

The room grows quiet, the only sound being heard is the party downstairs. Now your thoughts run wild, you’ve sobered up a bit but still in a daze, wondering if Harry is regretting what just happened.

“Are you going to go back to hating me after this?” Harry asked, his voice deep as he turned to look you.

Fingers twisting together, you let your gaze turn away from him and look at the sheets before you. If you were being honest, you were more confused then anything about what this meant and how you felt towards him now; you couldn’t explain how you felt, still stuck between the way he treated just hours before to how he made you feel just minutes ago, how can you explain what you feel?

“You’ll just have to wait and see…”

[nastyc2nt]

⊹౨ৎ Perv!Yan!Nerd!Izuku ⊹౨ৎ

Thoughts/Dabble

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

Warnings: small town izuku, yandere behaviors, killing mentions, sweet!reader, and really disturbing and violent acts also mentioned, stalking, stealing, watching someone without permission, taking “intimate” items, taking pictures and videos with no consent, peeping Tom izuku, just izuku being a nasty guy.

Izuku would fall for the only person that would show him some acts of kindness, you being his first target and only one after. He was a nerdy who had no confidence, everyone in town thought he was weird from a young age and now up to college. Girls knew he was creep too. People avoid him, never talking to him, not sitting near him, only ones that did just bullied him. Katsuki being one of them—

Anyway, you moved into town for college and are just the sweetest angel to him. He accidentally ran into you while running down the halls to get to class, knocking into you and falling down with you. Something was sweet, your perfume stung his nose in a pleasant way and sent jilts down his whole body. Feeling another persons heat below him got his cock already excited. So when he backed away from the person he hit, he saw you. A beautiful person who he’d never seen before.

Izuku apologize frantically afraid of another person wanting to slap him around but you never did. “Don’t worry about it,” while he picked up your things, you did the same to his stuff and hand it to him with a gorgeous smile, “no harm done.”

Freak Izuku couldn’t get you off his mind from that moment and decided to try and find you after his class…and every day after that. Izu followed you around like a shadow in the dark, if he had time he was near you. Watching everything you did.

Weeks passed and his obsession was growing out of control, skipping his lessons to break into your apartment while you’re not there. He’s take your dirty clothes while also laying on your bed, everything smelled just like you did- your underwear smelling so good. “Hmm,” he’d moan while fisting his cock with the cloths in his mouth. Pictures of you that he took from your outside window, in class or around campus was all he could look at while jerking off.

“Making you mine, wanna make you happy,” his words spilling from his mouth as he babbles on and on. And it was all true. He’d do anything for his darling, to see you laugh and smile and be worshipped like you deserve. Everyone in this stupid town was unworthy of breathing near you— he’d kill them if you want him too, take their heads, body parts and display them to you if that’s what you wanted.

He’d be your puppet for just a bit of attention.

You bet your cute little ass he has videos of you touching yourself, when you all alone in your apartment with a toy stuffing deep within you. He’s outside wondering how warm and wet you’d feel, what it would sound like if you called out his name. And you never noticed the strikes of white outside on the building near your window— you didn’t have to clean it!!

Izuku also cries to himself while masterbaiting for hours to your pictures. He was so dry but he just couldn’t stop stroking himself, you are just in his mind all the time. Naked and spread out on his bed, his sheets sticking to his sweaty body and his thighs and area around him painted white from his many rounds of cum.

Lets just hope no one finds his shrine of you in his closet. Clothes, pictures, hair and trash you threw away.

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

[revehae]

do you like it, dr. lee?

pairing ↠ haechan, jaemin, jeno × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, gangbanging, student x professor, reader is early 30s, mentions of infidelity, age gap (18+)

summary ↠ haechan, jaemin, and jeno are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically.

wc ↠ 5.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the college-capades series! connected to sexcapade.

don’t like it, don’t read.

it all happened so fast.

one minute, you were chatting with three of your most wonderful students in your office, and the very next, they had you sprawled out on top of your desk.

your heart was speeding. though you attempted to wrestle your way out of their less than gentle embraces, you couldn’t even take one of them, let alone all three. while somebody was keeping your hands still, another was holding you by the legs.

jeno, who had his palm flat over your mouth, only watching your moist, fearfully wide eyes, leaned into your ear and whispered, “scream and we’ll saw your tongue off.”

when he dropped his palm, you sucked in a breath, face tensing with tears as you willed yourself to be compliant. your head was spinning, dizzy with shock. what was happening to you was unfathomable. these boys were some of your favorite students, the ones who never failed to perform magnificently on the exams, and were sparkling in class.

you felt betrayed, in a way. even your worst-performing student wouldn’t stoop this low, and in the midst of your fright, you wondered what you had done to deserve the atrocity that was today. if there was anybody that you could count on to make you feel as if your dedication to this job wasn’t completely useless, it was these boys.

haechan was standing just shy of you, eyes fixed to that knee-length skirt he loved watching you wear. jeno chuckled when he noticed where his friend’s gaze had fallen, because he found himself glancing there too, but usually when you were facing away from your students.

he always thought about getting you naked, seeing your ass without anything to hinder his view. more often than not, jeno fisted himself to the thought of stuffing your ass full of his thick cock, wondering if anybody had ever fucked you there.

snapping out of his imagination, haechan approached you, shoving your long skirt closer to your hips. instinctively, the first thing you did was try to protect yourself, but jaemin grabbed you and ceased all control. you slumped, whimpering defeatedly, “boys, please stop. you know that i have a husband.”

haechan snickered, amused that that was the card you chose to play. “didn’t really look like you cared about your husband when you were fucking my dad,” he retorted.

rather than beat even quicker, it felt as if your heart stilled. “what?”

jeno laughed boisterously. “would you look at that. she thinks you don’t know.”

“that’s right, baby,” haechan replied menacingly, nothing affectionate about his tone, in spite of the pet name. “you run your mouth and we’ll make sure the whole school knows that you can’t stop spreading your legs for my father.”

donning the sweetest tone, jaemin crooned in your ear, “and you wouldn’t want that, right, sweetheart? you wouldn’t want mr. lee to know that his wife isn’t satisfied with just his cock, is she now?”

it felt as if the whole world was crumbling beneath your feet. haechan was johnny’s son, the offspring of the man you had been hooking up with behind your husband’s back, and now he and his friends were threatening to expose your affair if you refused to let them have their way with you.

your lips were trembling. this is all your fault, you chided to yourself. if you could’ve just been a faithful wife, a committed woman, none of this would be happening. they would have nothing against you, nothing that would stop you from reporting to the closest figure of authority. but you had too much at stake.

though you were no stranger to jeno’s short patience, you had never seen it manifest quite like this before, gripping your hair so roughly you whimpered in a blend of pain and shock. he growled, “he asked you a question. i shouldn’t have to tell you that that called for an answer.”

“no,” you replied shakily.

jeno’s grip only tightened and he pressed, “no, what?”

“no, i don’t want him to know…,” you trailed, because it was humiliating to repeat back aloud, but jeno was still gazing at you expectantly. “that i’m not satisfied with just his cock.”

“see, that wasn’t so hard. don’t be a little bitch and make things more complicated than they have to be,” jeno said, releasing his hold on your hair. you would’ve fallen back had not jaemin been there to catch you, only to then grab the little buttons on your blouse. “we’re doing you a favor, really. it’s a three for one deal. a little whore like you should be excited.”

but you didn’t want them, you didn’t even want your husband. you wanted johnny. it made you wonder how they knew of the affair, because haechan seemed oblivious only a couple of weeks ago. he referred to you as some fucking nurse johnny had flirted with, not his molecular biology professor.

for fuck’s sake, you were a solid decade older than them. granted, johnny was at least a decade older than you, though there was a discernible difference between the age gap between the two of you and the gap between you and your undergraduate students. 

your button-up blouse finally came undone and jaemin didn’t waste a breath before he snatched off your bra, eager to suck your breasts into his mouth. you gasped out when he did, his tongue darting around your nipples. in the same way, haechan yanked your panties off, cupping between your legs without a second thought.

never in your life had you felt more defenseless, powerless. stripped of all autonomy and forced to let other people have their wicked ways with you. you felt nothing short of violated and it made you sick to your stomach, gut tossing and churning with reproach.

through your stinging eyes, blurry with hot tears, you watched haechan sink to his knees in front of your desk. you weren’t particularly enthusiastic about how exposed you were, your breasts out and your skirt bunched just above your thighs. it felt like the closest thing to walking around the plaza half-naked.

obviously, you felt more watched than you would’ve had it just been one of them, but you were at the mercy of three guys that were paying a godawful amount of attention to your bare figure. jaemin was fixed to your perky chest and jeno was watching haechan situate himself between your legs, holding them open for his friend in case you wanted to be defiant.

“haechan, i don’t want this,” you whined, wiping your face with the back of your hand. 

“that’s too bad, baby.” haechan wasn’t even looking at you, gaze locked on your pussy, like that was what you were reduced to. “don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

you sucked in another gasp when his mouth angled towards your pussy without affording you a notice in advance, your body’s natural instinct being to shut your legs, but jeno was still holding them in place and he was infinitely stronger than you. with the vigorous training that it took to be a member of the campus’ athletic teams, it came to you as no shock, but you were heavily disappointed.

haechan’s tongue singled out your clit while he lapped at you, ravenous. the second he saw you on the first day of class, he knew that he had to have you. so when he found out that you were sleeping with his father, cheating on your husband with haechan’s dad of all people, he became furious. 

neither you or johnny were as good at keeping secrets as you thought yourselves to be. on more than one occasion, haechan saw you leaving their house. every now and then, he would see your name on his father’s phone. and it wasn’t fair. if anybody could please you, if anybody could bring you to heaven and back, it was the boy with his head buried between your legs.

as if matters couldn’t get any worse, haechan actually seemed to know what he was doing. though you would never admit it to his face, the way he was sucking at your bundle of nerves had you throbbing, pulsing involuntarily around nothing. you whimpered and whined, but chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

jaemin chuckled so quietly it was barely audible, but said nothing as of right now, cupping your tits in his palms and squeezing. his patience was much less limited than jeno’s, who was currently shifting out of his boxers, freeing his raging hard cock. you saw him in the corner of your misty eyes, noticing how rigid and thick his cock was, but said nothing.

what you didn’t expect, though probably should have seen coming, was for him to start jacking himself to the sight of you being mishandled. haechan wasn’t the only one that couldn’t stop thinking about from the moment you locked eyes. matter of fact, that mutual pining was the common denominator of this little team.

all three of them were sick in the head, out of their minds obsessed with you. you would have expected some lethal kind of rivalry to develop out of that, but instead, they were much more menacing about it. they were helping each other get what they wanted.

you were a little overwhelmed from all the attention and jeno wasn’t even touching you, but just knowing that he was stroking his cock for you was more than a little unnerving. jaemin’s hands were so strangely gentle, setting a pattern as he groped you, all the while haechan was eating you out vigorously.

“pretty, pretty. so pretty when you cry,” jaemin sang in a way that could’ve been kind, if you ignored the nature of what was happening to you. then, like he knew your secret and was implying that he wouldn’t tell, he whispered for only your ears, “pretty when you lie, too.”

it wasn’t fair. you didn’t want to like this, just like how you didn’t want to be aroused. but when haechan pushed a pair of fingers inside of your pussy you gushed and tightened around his digits. you were so unstill, it drove him mad, prompting him to go harder.

your brain was empty but racing all the while, thinking, this is so fucking wrong. you were fucking his father, for crying out loud, and even that was wrong. you didn’t care then, so according to their logic, it shouldn’t have made a difference now.

haechan and jeno’s grunts blended into one giant cacophony of sound, haechan moaning with a mouthful of pussy because he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted and your pussy was spasming around his digits, whereas jeno was grunting because he thought you were most right now when you were deprived of all control.

blood was pumping quicker than ever through your veins, your heart screaming for survival. you weren’t even remotely in control of your own body anymore, seized not only by your three reckless students, but the pleasure burning through you like wildfire.

your office, that was typically admirably ventilated, seemed to hot to breathe in. but your breaths became quicker and shorter, as if there was no space in your lungs, and you started to feel the sweat cooling down your back, reminding you of how naked you were.

haechan was so hard, stiffening in his pants the longer he watched you start to unravel, and he could’ve probably gotten off just from making you cum. you were grinding your hips against his mouth, and his long, slender fingers that were surely getting you there. you might not have wanted to confess the truth, but your body couldn’t lie.

“she’s so close,” jeno commented with a chuckle, addressing you as if you weren’t even there. “fuck, i am too.”

a hole of negative emotions opened then and there and swallowed you whole, namely guilt and humiliation. you didn’t want haechan to make you cum, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure, but that ship had already sailed. 

nonetheless, you parted your lips and begged in between shaky moans, “haechan, stop. please, i’m begging you!”

“he’s not going to stop, sweetheart,” jaemin crooned, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “don’t you see? he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy. you should feel so good about yourself.”

few things in life had ever made you feel this conflicted. on the one hand, this was degrading on way too many levels and you felt forcibly stripped of all of your dignity. but on the other, deep down inside, the sight of haechan with his head between your thighs as he licked and sucked at your cunt was inexplicably arousing.

and that did it for you. you tried to fight it, you really did, but your orgasm completely blindsided you, taking you by the reins and going to town. your lips parted in a cry of haechan’s name, your thighs trembling and heat striking through you like lightning as you gripped onto jaemin for dear life.

haechan continued to go down on you after you orgasmed, just until you finished more or less riding his face, going limp against your desk with only jaemin to keep you upright. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. all the blood was rushing to your head and your heart was thumping in your ears.

haechan finally pulled back, licking your arousal off of his lips and the corners of his mouth in a way that made your core throb emptily, then asked, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

your ears burned and you said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. your answer was in the way your chest heaved like unstill waters, your fingers still holding onto jaemin’s shirt. like you thought you would collapse if you had nothing to anchor yourself.

jaemin took one glance at you and scoffed, “i think she loved it, man.”

there was something so smug in haechan’s stare, like he just knew that he had you.

when haechan moved, jeno came between your spread legs, still holding his cock while he stroked himself to climax in front of you. like it would never be satisfied, your pussy continued to throb at the sounds you were indirectly plucking out of him, culminating in one deep, guttural growl when he came, shooting his load on your cunt.

though you were (thank god) on birth control, him orgasming there still made you feel iffy. you could feel it trickling down into your hole and hated how eager it seemed to be filled. for half a second, you were convinced that was the worst that could happen.

imagine your shock when jaemin abandoned your boobs, soft and supple as they were, and shifted between your thighs next. you didn’t know what to expect when you noticed him move, they enjoyed keeping you guessing, but it definitely wasn’t for jaemin to lick at your release-stained pussy.

you gasped, “jaemin!”

the sound of him sucking and licking at your clit was lewd, and there were long, damp lines being made with his flattened tongue. while you were appalled, the other watched in amusement how jaemin unabashedly more or less ate jeno’s cum from your hole in a disturbing licking pattern. because where it was a nightmare for you, it was just one giant game to them.

to say nothing of the fact that you had only just orgasmed, sensitive. your thighs couldn’t handle the stimulation and you let out a breath of relief when his mouth separated from you, only for him to stand and force his lips against yours. you resisted, jolting away from him, but your attempts to evade him were in vain.

jaemin didn’t even need to grab your face to keep you still, because there was nowhere for you to hide. it was a disgusting, messy kiss, given that you were adamant on pushing him off. only so much of it was your fault though. jaemin liked it messy, liked how repulsed you were. he liked the grimace you were sporting and the blend of jeno’s cum and saliva dribbling down your chin. the damp spots of his saliva on your cheek from your attempts to dodge him and where his tongue pressed against you instead.

it was nauseating to you. you could taste jeno’s cum on your tongue, even though his cock hadn’t been anywhere near your mouth. and the the taste just wouldn’t go away.

jaemin, at last, pulled back, though only to laugh at the look on your face. “aw, don’t make that face. you liked it, right?”

you parted your lips to say deny him, but jaemin saw it coming and just kissed you again, not one to take no for an answer.

“okay, move your ass,” haechan said after a minute of watching you squirm. you never realized how strong jaemin was.

jaemin frowned, but moved out of the way. not because haechan told him to, but because he had something equally devious running through his brain.

you were baffled when you noticed haechan returning between your thighs, because he should’ve already had his fill. then, you noticed that he had freed his cock from his boxers in the time jaemin spent sucking on your tongue, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

you let out a cry of shock when they spread you over your desk the long way, carelessly toppling over your belongings, and yanked your skirt off your body completely. you were utterly naked, and there was no bit of you they hadn’t seen.

haechan positioned himself behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. there was so much terror in your body at the moment, scared not only for what was to come, but of liking it too.

“please,” you begged, trying to negotiate once more. “you boys should fool around with someone your own age.”

haechan snickered, as if that was funny. he probably thinks it is. “maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

your jaw slacked when his first thrust drew a pitched cry from the back of your throat. he wasn’t even half as patient as his father would be to sheathe himself completely. johnny would take his time, wallowing in your wetness just before slowly but steadily filling you, inch by fucking inch. haechan, on the other hand, went straight for the kill.

but to your horror, you were soaked enough for him to slip right in smoothly, to say nothing of jeno’s leftover cum facilitating the process. haechan was girthy like johnny too, in spite of all of their stark differences, and you hated that it was so familiar how he was stretching you out.

“wait,” you whimpered, fingers clamping aggressively against the edges of your desk. “haechan, please. you don’t need to do this.”

irritated, jeno nudged jaemin, groaning, “will you shut her up already?”

“gladly,” jaemin chirped, a devilish little smile tugging at his lips.

you lifted your head up when you heard jaemin approaching the side of your desk that you were facing, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers, and you quickly started to flail. haechan grabbed your neck, lowered his head, and hissed, “behave, or we’ll have to tell the class that their favorite professor is just a slutty little whore.” 

you stilled, remembering what was at stake. it wasn’t just your career, but johnny’s too. the second it got out that the two of you were involved in an affair, you knew you would both have to answer for your sins.

when jaemin finally got his underwear off, lengthy hard cock standing angrily against his stomach, he positioned himself beside your mouth and crooned, “say ‘ah.’”

“i don’t want to,” you whimpered.

jeno crept over, evidently disgruntled, and there was a resounding smack when his palm landed flat against your cheek. “one more thing from you and your husband’s gonna get a nice surprise in his email,” he warned.

defeated, you silently opened your mouth, letting jaemin push himself to the back of your throat. he let out a pleasant little sigh, eyes fluttering closed, paying no attention to the tears dripping down your cheeks. your mouth was too warm for him to a give damn whether or not you wanted this, to care about what you were feeling.

all the while, haechan’s hands were bruising your hips with the merciless grip he had of them. unlike you, his moans were unrestrained, never shy to reveal the ecstasy making his blood pump and his dick throb. you were so wet, so tight, everything he imagined tenfold. his father didn’t deserve you, not in his opinion. everything johnny could do, haechan was certain that he could do better, even if you didn’t want to confess.

even if he was a lot less caring than his dad would present. you didn’t know johnny, not like you thought. the dark side haechan had didn’t just come out of nowhere. though you would never realize, there was a clear reason why haechan was so sick in the head, especially when it came to you. why he took great delight in forcing you over your desk, stuffing you full of his cock and listening to you cry, struggling to hide that you loved his cock.

“he doesn’t love you, you know,” haechan said none too gently, snickering from between your legs. “i hope you realize you’re just another easy whore. not the first, not the last.”

there was so much going on that you were hoping you could somehow detach yourself from the brutal reality. not only was your body overloaded, but your mind and soul, ripping a hole right through all that you thought to be true.

it was all too fucking much. “your mouth feels so good,” jaemin exhaled, a hand tangled through your hair.

“you should feel her pussy. she’s so fucking wet, dude. and she thinks we’re going to buy that she’s not begging for this,” haechan replied, completely degrading. 

jaemin chuckled breathlessly. you were sucking it out of him, against your will or not. “yeah, i can hear how wet she is.”

jeno said nothing, but you were already too overwhelmed to notice his absence in the conversation. he was engrossed in thought, waiting with staggering patience for his own turn. which wasn’t typical for him at all. he swore, when he was done with you, you weren’t even going to think for weeks. 

between haechan’s twisted smack of his hips against yours and the way jaemin was unabashedly using your mouth to get off, you couldn’t decide which was more brutal. torture was torture, but if it was meant to be so bad, there shouldn’t have been moans slipping from your mouth uncontrollably. there shouldn’t have been a familar weight sitting in the pit of your stomach, waiting to wreck you.

“i know you love this,” haechan said, maybe project just a little, but the body didn’t lie and he could feel you tightening. “i know you love this fucking dick. wish i could hear you say it, baby.”

“that can be arranged,” jaemin quipped, but it took you by surprise when he actually pulled his cock from your mouth. “c’mon, angel. tell haechan how much you love his dick.”

your face flushed with humiliation, but you knew what would happen if you failed to comply. “i...,” you started, hesitant. “i love your dick, haechan.”

haechan smacked your ass, making you stifle a scream. “again.”

you cried out, “i love your dick!”

“i know,” haechan said, sickeningly confident in himself. “i also know that you’re about to cum.”

it was maddening that your husband of ages could hardly even get you off these days but some students in your class were recognizing the signs in record time. you were also ashamed with yourself for being so aroused, for needing to orgasm this badly, but you forfeited control of yourself moments ago.

jaemin had enough and once his dick started to twitch desperately, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, chasing relief for the raging hard-on you’d given him. rather than you sucking him off, it was more of him relentlessly fucking your throat, not stopping when you gagged.

and it wasn’t long before the three of you ultimately came, like a chain of dominoes collapsing after each other. this orgasm was just as powerful as the one that came before, the room reeling as your screams were muffled against jaemin’s stiff cock. your whole body was a thousand degrees hotter. jaemin’s warm cum releasing in your mouth while haechan’s seeped deeply into your pussy.

although you tried to swallow jaemin’s cum, per his request, some of it dripped onto the floor. you were terrified of leaving evidence of this encounter, wishing you would’ve gulped it all back, but then you felt haechan’s cum leaking out of you and your priorities shifted.

“my turn,” jeno said, though that was a given. you were confused when he started to spread haechan’s cum over your asshole, though for the longest you could feel his stare burning through your backside.

baffled, and maybe somewhat startled, you asked, “jeno, what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” jeno snapped belligerently, smacking his palm harshly against your cunt. you cried out in pain, unexpecting. “i’m tired of hearing your voice. just take it.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what was to come. nothing could have prepared you for the merciless way he penetrated your ass, effectively knocking the wind out of you. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in the sky was stolen and hid in this little box somewhere.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to beg for forgiveness for whatever you had done, but no sound would come from your mouth. there was only instant tears, your hands gripped the rim of your desk for purchase. the makeup you were wearing was ruined ages ago, but it had to have looked despicable now, because you were sobbing harder than ever.

“poor thing.” jaemin frowned, pretending to be compassionate. that was something he was good at, you realized. he had you fooled until you saw how recklessly he fucked your throat, and you came to accept they were all too alike.

“she’ll be, fuck, fine,” jeno groaned, careless. he was the roughest of the bunch, the most antagonistic. “this hole is so fucking tight.”

jeno was pressing you against the desk harder than haechan had, roughly mishandling you. it was obvious that jeno didn’t see you as his equal. when it came to you, all he gave a damn about was passing your class and fucking your ass.

never in your life had anyone ever fucked you there before, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. you were so repulsed, choking on your own feelings as they killed you slowly. the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to remain still, but that didn’t matter when jeno had you borderline flattened.

it was almost awe-inducing how he held you down with ease, regardless of how strong you thought you were and how violently you were reacting. it was the closest thing to being split open. pitiful little noises escaped you, but you bit them back, because the last thing you wanted was to get caught. somehow, though, the shock was more agonizing than the pain itself.

your agonized whimpers and jeno’s husky grunts made an awkward cacophony. if there was any of them that got off to your helplessness, you knew it was all of them, but jeno had to wallow in it more than either of them.

haechan and jaemin were stroking their cocks to the sight of you being ravaged to the point of total destruction. there were plenty of times in your life where you felt nothing short of broken, but this was a different variant, a kind from which you knew that you would never recover.

jeno couldn’t believe his thick cock was even fitting into your tight, flexing asshole, though then again, whatever you thought you couldn’t take, jeno would make you do. your body was for his own personal amusement. he leveraged himself deeper and deeper, groaning and laughing, using you to his advantage. because what jeno wanted, he always got. every time without fail. obviously, you were no exception to this pattern, even if it was to your own dismay.

your lip was bleeding from how frequently you were biting. all you wanted was to protect your reputation. you had things to lose, things you knew jeno would steal away from you in a heartbeat, because all he did was take.

“she’s such a damn whore, fuck. she should be grateful i’m fucking her,” jeno hissed, aggressive.

given how much you had heard adjacent statements in the past hour, you were starting to believe them, no matter how disparaging they were. you were accepting the cold truth, that this was your punishment for being unfaithful.

quickening his pace, jeno continued, “i’ve never wanted to fuck that nasty little pussy of hers. not when everybody’s been inside of it. but i can tell she’s never had this ass stretched before.”

his words were hurting more than his cruel movements, and you didn’t understand the science behind that. you whined, “jeno.” please, have mercy, was what you wanted to say, but you knew there was no point.

jeno squeezed your neck, cutting off your ability to inhale, and you felt every nerve in your body start to panic. “for the umpteenth time, shut the fuck up. no one’s fucking talking to you, bitch.”

you quieted, face tensing with delirious pain. 

“pathetic if you ask me,” haechan added, breath shaky. “her husband’s dick isn’t good enough for her, so she fucks my dad, and now that we give her three more, she still has the audacity to complain.”

jaemin snorted. “textbook cockslut.”

you wanted to speak, you were desperate to defend your honor and identity, but you had already said enough and you were lucky that they hadn’t already decided to expose you to the whole planet. you had no defenses against them, nothing in your arsenal. 

“begging us to stop, but she won’t stop fucking cumming. needy little bitch,” jeno chided, though judging from his breathlessness, he was far from disgruntled.

jaemin chortled, his cock still close to your face, and it was making you mildly uncomfortable. “maybe we should send her back to the husband with some tips.”

“oh, i’ve got one,” haechan said, beaming with his usual mischief. “hold her down and use her little holes until you’re done.”

“yeah, looks like she loves that,” jaemin retorted. 

jeno quipped, “we should’ve recorded. maybe showed him a tutorial.”

haechan blew out a contented sigh. “well, there’s always next time.”

your heart was taut with fear at the thought of there being a next time, but the three of your students were grinning with excitement, as if they wholly anticipated reliving this moment in the not so distant future.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” jeno grunted, wanting to go even deeper, but there was nowhere for him to move. 

haechan hummed, reminiscing over how good it felt to cum inside of your throbbing pussy. how you milked the cum out of him, bled him dry. “shame she’s on birth control. i overheard her and my dad talking,” he replied, nonchalant. “imagine if we got her pregnant.”

“man, don’t talk like that,” jeno groaned. 

haechan glanced to jaemin, both of them snickering amongst each other. “dude, i was just kidding. don’t tell me that’s actually getting your dick hard.”

“fuck, i’m gonna…”

the most delicious growl came from the tip of jeno’s tongue when he released inside of your asshole, his brows scrunching together with pleasure. his hips finally grinded to a halt when he met his climax, dumping way too much of his load inside. you could feel his fingertips leaving marks that would indefinitely stain your skin, and you dreaded having to explain them to your husband.

when jeno finally pulled away from you, having had his fill for now, your body went limp against your desk. you could have moved, but you were too exhausted. sweat cooled down your back, chilling you to shudders, but there wasn’t a single thought in your head. all you could do was lie there, used and exploited, hoping that life would return to the way you knew it before they broke you.

because right now, it was bland. the only thing you could feel was the soreness in your legs and the cum dripping from your hole, numbing yourself to everything else.

there was so patronizing about the way jeno turned to you, asking with the slyest grin on his face, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 89

Part 1 Part 88

Listening to only one side of the conversation would drive Eddie insane if he wasn’t already. It’s worse because he’s not sure if Steve is even answering back. If he even can. Supergirl’s just vague enough that he can’t tell if she’s just trying to reassure a silent, suffocating Steve.

What if he’s still there, just choking? But, no. That was the Upside-Down. Now that the thing is here in Steve, is he still there at all? Or is he trapped in the small corner of his mind that he has left?

Still, Eddie chokes out a wet laugh when El’s lips tick up as she says, “Eddie calls me Supergirl.” She’ll always be his Supergirl. Even if she can’t help this time. 

She looks so young, even with the eyeliner smudged all around her eyes and the slicked back hair. In her black trench coat she’s badass and metal and so goddamn small Eddie wants to throw up about it.  

She’ll always be Supergirl. It hangs over her brows as a weight she carries, a weight they keep adding onto with every plea for help. 

All that drifts away when she asks, “how do we help?” That’s not a question you ask someone who can’t answer. The wait  between words stretches beyond credulity for Eddie. Everyone’s looking at Steve like he’ll open his mouth and speak. 

It’s El’s voice that cuts in. Eddie gasps with it. “Make you warm?”

His neck hurts with the speed he turns his head to meet Will’s gaze. “He likes it cold,” Will whispers. “That’s what he said.” 

Eddie opens his mouth, ready to speak before he thinks, but then El says, “I will save you,” voice floaty, like she’s waking up from a dream. “Stay here while we come.”

El’s removing the half-assed blindfold from her eyes when Eddie looks back toward her, smiling softly as she says, “he recognized me.”

Eddie, knee walks toward her, desperate and wanting. He can feel a bit of glass stuck in his knee, but he doesn’t stop. Can’t. “Stay where?” he demands, hands out like he wants to shake El before he curls them into stupid, futile fists. “Is he okay?”

“He is where he is last time,” El says before raising her hand and tapping the top of Steve’s head gently, running her fingers through his hair as she says, “but in here.”

It takes Eddie a second to connect “last time” to anything tangible. As usual, Will beats him.

“He’s in his closet?”

El nods. “Yes, with clothes.” She runs her fingers through Steve’s hair one final time before dropping her hand and standing. “He said to make him warm.”

“And that’ll fix him?” It’s Perkins who answers, clearly done with being left in the dark. Eddie can’t blame her. 

El stands, staring at Steve the whole time. It takes her too long to answer. “No, he will come back.” 

“Who’s he?” Perkins demands. Everyone else already knows. It’s written in the silence. In the way the van’s so silent that no one is even breathing. “Hello?”

“Gotta break the connection. Close the gate,” Wayne says. He’s gruff and quiet, looking down at El like he’d rather be anywhere else than asking a little girl for a little salvation. “Can you do it?”

El meets his eyes. Eddie wants to hug her, or strangle her, or stuff them all into his trunk and flee the state and hope that’s enough to save them. But then El nods, walking out of the van with too much purpose for anyone to stop her. She turns back around, looking at all of them stuffed into the too-small van. 

“I will close the gate,” she says, looking from face to face to face before asking, “where is Hop?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mama Byers says, following her out of the van so she can engulf her in a hug El doesn’t return. “He was in the lab.”

El flinches back at the word “lab,” flinches back further when Lucas explains, halting and nervous about the Demodogs that had overrun it. Then something steals over her, resolves into a determination that shines. 

“I am going,” she says, ignoring Mama Byers beseeching hands as she turns and starts walking away, like she’s going to hike all the way there on foot. Frodo Baggins without even a Samwise Gamgee. 

Everyone flutters out of the van. Eddie stays by Steve and Will’s side,watching it all unfold. 

It’s Mike that gets her to stop because of course it is. “We’ll go with you!”

El turns around, hope shining in her eyes. Wayne cuts through it like a scalpel through vocal chords.

“No,” he says, quiet, but harsh enough to make El stumble back. Eddie can’t see his face, but his hands are raised placatingly in that same spooked horse stance he’d used a lot when Eddie first moved in with him, and then later, when Steve did, too. “None of ya kids are going with ‘er.”

All the kids protest except Max, who’s frowning between everyone, unsure of who’s side to stand on. 

“She can’t go alone!” Dustin says, putting his hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of Steve every time he’s on kid wrangling duty and fed up.

Wayne copies the stance, much more effectively at his stature, and replies, “I’m going with ‘er.” When Dustin opens his mouth to further complain, he turns away toward Barbara and asks, “don’t s’pose I can borrow your car?”

Barbara throws the keys toward him without a noise of complaint. Wayne walks toward El, looping his arm around her shoulders and leading her toward the car. “C’mon, kid,” he says, squeezing her into his side. “Gotta stop by the trailer for a couple a’ guns.”

El nods, looks back at them, meeting Eddie’s eyes to say, “keep him warm.”

Like the words break a spell on him, Eddie bolts from the van, tugging his connection on Steve to make sure he stays during their separation. Wayne almost loses his footing when Eddie barrels into his back, arms clutching at his chest tight enough to hurt.

“Stay safe, old man.”

Wayne huffs, reaching back to ruffle Eddie’s greasy hair. Eddie tucks his nose into Wayne’s neck, holds onto him for a second longer before letting go. 

Wayne doesn’t turn around, but he stands still just for a second, like he can still feel the warmth of Eddie’s arms. He sounds choked up when he says, “you too, son,” before walking away without turning back.

Eddie watches as the pair get in the car and drive away, feeling oddly bereft.

He’s got all these people now, who love him and he loves back. But Uncle Wayne was the first, always. 

He better come back. 

Part 90

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

[ohimsummer]

for ur lil date game

satoru taking you to a carnival? n we'll say 🍦for the emoji

— light descriptions of vomit, established relationship, satoru x reader, kinda proofread

“I…don’t think this is a good idea.”

Satoru snaps his head towards you, staring in utter astonishment. “Huh? What are you–,” he raises a fist to his mouth, turning away as a burp slips out, “–talking about? You don’t think this looks fun?”

As if to prove his point, a round of shrieks reaches your ears, the cart of people zooming by in a blur. Your eyes follow the ride’s track, the loops and sharp dips of it, angles that would have your stomach churning.

“It’s not that I don’t think it’s fun...,” you reply, gulping. “Maybe just not so soon after all that ice cream.”

“Pft. What are you, a wimp?”

Your brows furrow, avoiding Gojo’s gaze even as he leans over to grin at you. “No, I’m someone who doesn’t wanna puke all over themselves. You’re supposed to wait like an hour after you eat before getting on a ride, remember?”

Satoru crosses his arms, leaning back against the side of someone’s game booth. “Waiting, schmaiting, that whole thing’s a myth anyway, ya know?”

“…Is it?”

“Duh, babe. How could you get sick just from eating something and then getting on a ride? Use that pretty little head, we’ll be a-okay!”

Doubt and suspicion still creep at the edges of your mind, but Satoru’s confidence in his belief convinces you enough to let him drag you in line. Your tummy feels a bit full, having been stuffed with all the different flavors he wanted to try, but it’s only replaced with a somewhat empty feeling as you both draw closer and closer to the front of the line. Satoru is giddy, bouncing on his heels, jittery and jiggling you under his hold around your shoulders.

“This is gonna be so cool!,” he rambles, points at a section of the roller coaster. “Look, it even goes upside down at that part! If you do puke, it should probably be right there– ow! Pffft, baby, I was joking!”

In no time, you two are squished into one of the carts, right at the front as Satoru’s preference, and the attendant tugs the belt to make sure you’re both properly restrained.

“I wonder if they have one of those secret cameras that takes pictures throughout the ride?,” he asks aloud, reaching an arm around to pinch your cheek and laughing when you slap him away. “Make some silly faces, I want a new wallpaper.”

The ride begins before you can laugh at him to shut up. It’s a slow start, gradually creeping upwards to reach the tip-top of the first hill. You lace fingers with Satoru's, who’s chatter has suddenly gone quiet, and he faintly returns the tight squeeze you give his hand.

“All good?,” you ask, eyes stuck on the path ahead, ears filled with the loud rumble of the coaster as it draws nearer to the top. In your peripheral, you see the swish of Satoru’s hair as he gives a swift nod and a short ‘mhm!’.

You glance over at him, and immediately something’s wrong. His bottom lip tucked between his teeth, brows furrowed and eyes wide with anxiety. “You sure you’re okay?”

He glances over at you and smiles, forced. “Y-yup! I’m fine, baby.”

“Satoru, you’re sweating.”

“It’s just hot–“

“You’re also really pale, even for you.”

His lips falter, eyes blink as though the sun beams straight through his blackened shades. “U-uh…”

You study the way Satoru wipes his forehead, and then smacks his lips. He doesn’t answer your ‘what’s wrong?’, only presses himself back in the seat as the coaster finally crests the first hill.

He licks his lips, smacks them again. “Ugh, my mouth feels really watery.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?” And then you recall something you’ve read related to sickness. “Doesn’t that mean you’re about to vomi-“

Your shriek, not because the ride has went plummeting, but because liquid now ejects from Satoru’s mouth, spews between his fingers as he tries to hold it all back. You lean away, constantly glancing back to see regurgitated ice cream shooting back on other passengers. Someone screams ‘Eww, what is this?!’ and you just pray they’ll think it’s bird poop or whatever, and also that too much of Satoru’s puke doesn't reach you.

By the time the amusement ride ends, a crowd of people are giving both you and Satoru dirty looks, mumbling insults and complaints under their breath and heading to the nearest restrooms to clean up. Satoru’s once clean shirt is stained in a dull rainbow of tossed-up ice cream, and you grab napkins from a nearby food booth to wipe his face clean.

“This is embarrassing.,” he mutters, shielding his face from passerby as you both begin heading home.

You sigh. “I told you we should wait, ya big baby.”

bonus :3

The next say, Satoru grabs your phone, intent on his usual activity of snapping an overabundance of selfies that you won't notice until the next time you check your album or he hints at having tampered with the device if you take too long. His thumb freezes over the camera icon in the corner.

"Y/N!," he yells, and you come rushing because why does it sound like he's in trouble?

You come sliding around the corner in socks, gripping the doorframe to steady yourself before coming to a halt in front of your held-out phone.

"What?", you ask, biting back a grin.

"What? Look at this photo!"

A giggle threatens to slip past your lips at the picture, a polaroid of you with a look of absolute shock and disgust as you hold up hands to shield yourself from Satoru, who sits next to you on the ride with wide, blue eyes, puffed out cheeks and throw-up bursting from between his fingers.

"Don't need to, I've been laughing at it since yesterday."

feel free to send a char + date idea <3

[sochilll]

Day Four of Pins and Patches Week! (See the prompt list here!)

Day 4: Hospital/Home

Read on Ao3

Michael wasn’t sure how the hospital visit would go. He knew that he and Jeremy had sort of made up before everything went to hell, but a part of him still worried that he’d show up and Jeremy would be angry, or tell Michael to leave, or throw the stuffed bear Michael bought at the gift shop at him.

Fortunately, none of that happened. Jeremy was happy to see Michael. He sat up in bed, grinning. Michael sat in the chair beside the bed and filled Jeremy in on what had happened after he passed out. They talked for what felt like hours. When Michael checked his phone, he realized it actually had been hours. 

“Shit man,” Michael stood up. “I have to get home for dinner.” 

“Okay,” Jeremy shifted, pushing himself further upright. “I should probably ask if I can eat something too.”

“How long are you here?”

“Just overnight. Unless I have a brain malfunction and die,” Jeremy tried for a laugh. 

Michael forced one back but they both knew it wasn’t funny. “Text me when you’re home. I’ll come over.”

“Okay,” Jeremy smiled, looking more like his old self than he had in months. 

Michael gave him a gentle fist bump and then stepped into the hallway.

He got slightly lost, turning left toward what he thought were the elevators, but ending up in another hallway. He frowned. He spun around to go back the way he came but his eyes caught something through one of the open doors.

“Jake?”

Jake looked up. “Oh hey uh…”

“Michael.”

“Yeah. I knew that.” 

Michael nodded. He looked Jake over. His left leg was completely covered in a cast. His left arm was wrapped in bandages. “How’s… how are you?”

“You know,” Jake shrugged. “Not dead so… that’s good.” 

“Yeah,” Michael laughed slightly. “Your parents here?”

Jake suddenly pretended to be intensely interested in his bandage. “Nah. They have other stuff to do.”

“Oh.” Michael shifted his weight. He wanted to say something more meaningful than “oh” but he couldn’t think of anything that could possibly make Jake feel better. He suddenly remembered the bear. He’d forgotten to give it to Jeremy. They’d been too caught up talking. He dug it out of his bag. “Here. To brighten up the place.”

Michael set the bear on the weird little hospital night stand. 

Jake looked at it and then Michael. “You just carry that on you?”

“Never know when you’ll need a small stuffed bear wearing a shirt that says “get well beary soon,” you know?” 

Jake laughed. He tilted his head at Michael. “Thanks.” 

“How long are you here?”

Jake shrugged again. “I was on like, mad pain killers when they told me what was going on.”

Michael snorted. “You’d think they’d consider that, being professionals and all.”

“Well, I may have lied about how coherent I felt.”

“Probably not a great lie to tell to your doctors.”

“What can I say? I live on the edge.”

“My apologies Mr. Badboy.” Michael held his hands up. He felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. “Ah, crap. I have to get home for dinner.”

“Right. Cool.” Jake looked at Michael for a moment, frowning slightly.

Michael hesitated. “What?”

“What?”

“You look like you want to say something.”

“Yeah,” Jake pursed his lips. “I’m trying to decide if it’s really stupid.”

Michael shrugged. “Most things that come out of my mouth are stupid. Say it anyway.”

Jake laughed. “Okay.” He paused, apparently debating for another second. “Do you wanna hang out once I’m out of here?”

Michael blinked. He wasn’t sure what he thought Jake was going to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I’m kinda rethinking my whole friend situation right now.”

“And you’re choosing me for your new posse?”

“Well,” he gestured to the empty room, “first come first serve?”

Michael laughed. “Okay. Yeah, let’s hang out.” He pulled his phone out and passed it to Jake like a cool person who got boys’ numbers all the time. 

Jake typed his number in and handed it back. He’d put his name in as “Jake B).”

“Cool. So, uh, I’ll text you I guess.”

“Cool.” 

“Cool,” Michael repeated. “Um, okay. So bye Jake.”

Jake smiled like he was trying not to laugh. “Bye.”

Michael and Jake texted almost every day for the next two weeks. Michael was pretty sure Jake was out of the hospital by now, but he hadn’t brought up hanging out again. And Michael certainly wasn’t going to mention it. He was sort of convinced that Jake regretted asking in the first place. 

And then it happened. It was almost midnight and Michael’s phone buzzed three times in a row. He paused his video game and picked it up. 

“Hey!” Jeremy whined. “I was just about to kick your ass.”

“Sorry. It sounded important.” Michael opened his messages. 

Jake: hey are you doing anything tomorrow

Jake: i was thinking we could hang. watch a movie or something

Jake: my parents are out of town this weekend so

Michael typed furiously and then put his phone face down.

Michael: sure! Sounds cool :) better be a good movie though

Jeremy eyed him. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. Just making plans for tomorrow.”

Jeremy scoffed, offended. “With who?”

Michael unpaused the game. “Uh, Jake.”

Jeremy’s character died in an explosion of blood. “What the fuck? Jake? Like Jake Jake?”

“Yeah.” Michael shrugged. “Ran into him on the way out of the hospital that day and we’ve been talking.”

“Talking,” Jeremy repeated. 

“Yup.”

“Meaning…” 

“Meaning we have been sending texts back and forth in a conversation format.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “So you’re like… into him?”

“What?” Michael flushed. “I never said that. Why does it matter anyway?”

Jeremy fidgeted. “I don’t know. You’ve just never really mentioned Jake before. And now you guys are hanging out?”

“Chillax dude.” Michael bumped his shoulder. “You’re not being replaced. We’re just talking.”

Jeremy pouted but let it go after Michael pinky-swore Jeremy was still his best friend. 

Jake’s house was fully repaired and just as expensive looking as the first time Michael had been there. He texted Jake when he arrived.

Jake: front door is open. i’m in the living room. sorry i’d come get you but… walking

Michael: understandable 

Michael hesitated, a little worried about having to explain himself to some butler or maid or something, but he gathered his courage and pushed open the front door. There seemed to be no one else home. He found the living room easily. Jake was on the couch, leg propped up on pillows on the coffee table. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Jake gestured to the couch. “Welcome.”

Michael sat beside him. “Looks different in the daytime.”

“That sounds really creepy man.”

“Well,” Michael shrugged. “I’m kinda creepy.”

Jake laughed. They lapsed into silence. 

Michael scrambled for something to say. “So how’s the friend search going?”

“Great. You know how being in the hospital lets you meet a bunch of people your age?”

“Yeah exactly. It’s a great place to meet people.” Michael nodded. “So just me then?”

“Well, I’m still deciding about you.” Jake said, giving Michael a faux serious look. 

Michael put a hand to his chest. “That is truly hurtful. I gave you a stuffed bear that cost several dollars!”

“Several?” Jake raised his eyebrows. “Well now I feel bad about throwing it out.”

“You threw it out?”

Jake laughed. “No.” He nodded to the TV stand where the bear was sitting. 

It made Michael’s chest feel slightly warm for some reason, thinking about Jake taking the stupid stuffed bear home with him. 

Michael was trying to come up with some witty and cool thing to say when his phone started vibrating incessantly.

Jake glanced at his pocket. “You gonna check that?”

“No.” Michael knew exactly who it was and what he was saying. 

“What if it’s important?”

“It’s not. It’s just Jeremy being an obnoxious best friend.”

“Obnoxious about what?” Jake asked. 

Michael looked at him. Jake seemed pretty cool. Like, actually cool. Chill. Not stuck up or asshole-ish. 

“He’s just making fun of the fact that we’re hanging out.”

Jake looked confused. “Why is that funny?”

“Cause we have never spoken before despite going to school together since like second grade.”

“Hm. Good point.” Jake nodded. “Except we did do that project on ancient Egypt together in seventh grade.”

“Oh my god yeah!” Michael laughed. “God I can’t believe you even remember that.”

“Of course.” Jake smiled. “You were like… super into it. I remember I barely did anything cause you just kept telling me random facts about mummies.”

Michael was getting slightly distracted by the way Jake kept smiling at him. “Yeah well… I was sort of in my Egypt phase back then. It lasted longer than I am willing to admit. Very embarrassing.”

Jake leaned toward him. Or maybe he was just adjusting his leg. 

“I thought it was cool,” Jake said quietly.

“Liar.”

“No, I did. You were so passionate.” Jake was definitely closer now. “I don’t think I’ve ever cared about anything that much.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Michael was practically whispering. “You do… sports.”

Jake laughed softly. “Yeah. But I don’t really care about that. Which is good considering…”

“Well, we should find you a hobby then.”

“We?”

“Yeah. You think I’m just gonna ditch my new best—”

Jake leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled back, smiling slightly and said, “Sorry. Go on.”

“I uh…” Michael’s brain was upside down. He couldn’t have continued what he was saying if his life depended on it. “I don’t know what I was… Um…”

Jake laughed. He straightened up. “Well, if you can’t talk then go to the kitchen and get us some snacks while I find a movie.”

“Okay.” Michael stood up and went into the kitchen. He looked around and then returned to the living room. “What snacks?”

Jake shrugged, scrolling through movies. “Take whatever you want man.”

“Okay.” Michael brought out three bags of chips, a box of crackers, Oreos, and two cans of soda. “You have a lot of food here.”

“Yeah.” Jake shifted his leg to the side of the table so they could lay out the food. “Hey did I make it weird earlier?”

Michael was shocked by the bluntness. “Um, yes definitely. But like… not bad. Just surprising.”

“But not bad.”

“Definitely not bad,” Michael confirmed. 

Jake nodded. “Okay. Cool.” He pressed play on a movie Michael had definitely not approved of. 

Michael sat beside him, closer than before. Jake glanced at him. Then he stretched his arms, leaving one on the back of the couch behind Michael.

Michael burst out laughing. 

“What?”

“Did you seriously just do the stretch thing? That’s so lame! I thought you were supposed to have game.”

“I do have game.” Jake argued. “That’s a solid move.”

“It absolutely is not.” Michael said, still trying to control his giggles. “It’s cheesy and stupid.”

“Whatever.” Jake pulled his arm back into his lap. “Sit by yourself then.”

Michael felt giddy. He felt floaty and happy and impulsive. He took Jake’s hand and pulled Jake’s arm around his shoulders, leaning into his chest. 

“That’s how you do it.”

Jake flicked the side of his head. “Shut up.” But he didn’t move his arm away.

[indecentpause]

Sunday Six/Six Sentence Sunday

from the Christian and Livia thing <3 way more than six sentences but I couldn't decide which parts of this bit to share so I'm sharing the whole thing

“What?” he asked around his final mouthful. Christian shook his head and went back to his bun. “No, seriously, you keep staring at me. What, do I have something in my teeth?” Livia bared his teeth in an over-the-top grimace. Christian snorted a laugh, nearly choking on the food in his mouth. He finished the bite and thumped his fist against his chest. “No. No, sorry. I guess I’m just trying to figure you out.” Livia’s brow drew down and he frowned softly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You know this isn’t a date, right?” A surprising flash of hurt lanced through Livia’s chest, even though, “Yeah, I know.” Christian’s eyes darted over Livia’s face. He stuffed the last bit of his second bun into his mouth. “I guess I’m just not sure why you’re sticking around, then.” If Livia weren’t already pressed back against the brick wall of the alleyway, he’d have taken a step back. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Christian cast his gaze down and to the side. “I mean. I’ve turned you down for dates twice now. You’re not pushing it. Why are you even hanging out with me?” Confusion replaced the hurt and Livia pursed his lips. “Because I think you’re cool?” Saying it made him feel like a dumb little kid on the playground at recess, but Christian clearly needed someone to say it. “I guess we don’t know each other that well, but I know you like good music and have good taste in coffee and like the same food as me.” He paused and tugged his scarf into place around his chin and nose. “And you let me borrow your scarf the other day, even though it’s obviously important to you. I could have lost it or ripped it or something, but you still let me use it. Not a lot of people would do that.” Christian took out his last bun and crumpled up the paper bag it had come in. “Well. I know where you work. You’d only be able to avoid me for so long.” His face was ruddy with cold and embarrassment. Livia didn’t push. “Just, thanks,” Christian said.

Current taglist: @abalonetea @only-book-lovers-left-alive @poore-choice-of-words @leadhelmetcosmonaut @jasperygrace @drippingmoon @athenswrites @magic-is-something-we-create @idreamonpaper @winterandwords @thelaughingstag @revenantlore

[moraygrotto]

For fanfic requests uuu anything with Liliaaaaa I beg OTL

-2shytosaytummy💕

liliа x reader suppertime!

-

"Heheh, don't feel bad." Lilia's fork taps against his plate as he daintily props his head up on his wrists. "I said it was a casual dinner, and I meant it."

At your patiently drawn-out behest, Lilia had ordered takeout for the pair of you, then served it up on antique plates carved in Briar Valley's traditional style. You had a plate full of your favorite, and you still felt shy to eat it.

"Would you like me to set the table more rustically next time?" Lilia says. "We do have bamboo placemats, though I thought the white tablecloth would add some charm."

You assure him that all of it is fine, thank him again for ordering, and take a tentative bite.

Lilia watches you dreamily. You keep eating, and after a moment, he blinks. In one swift movement, he picks up his napkin, lunges forward, and wipes a bit of food off your cheek. "There," he says brightly. "You're much cuter with a clean face."

Laughing, you chide him for cleaning you up rather than simply informing you, and he shrugs.

"I did say I intended this meal to be informal. If you'd prefer I kept to a certain level of etiquette, I'll keep my napkin safely on my lap, far from your face."

You inform him that you expect no such strictness from him tonight.

He grins, sharp teeth glinting. "Good."

Finally, he digs into his own meal with apparent relish, several times speaking with his mouth full, not even bothering to swallow before continuing your conversation. A little while later, he spots the clean bottom of your plate. "Splendid," he says, "you finished."

There is no distinction from the tone he uses now and that with which he speaks of his own cooking. It becomes even more apparent when he adds, "Are you full? I can whip a little something up for you if that wasn't enough."

You assure him, as politely as you can, that you do not need his help in this regard. It is not a lie—you are full; your enjoyment of the meal gave it all the more value to you.

Content with your answer, Lilia returns to his own plate.

He finishes eating, and leans back, letting out a satisfied sigh as he rests one hand on his belly. Lilia is smaller than you, you are reminded at rare and strange times. The dishes the two of you ordered were portioned similarly, but while you feel no more than the quiet satiety of a standard-sized meal, Lilia looks stuffed.

"If there's anything else I can provide for you—" His whole body hitches with a little burp, and he presses a loose fist to his mouth. "—Pardon me—Please do let me know."

You would not dream of breaking his blissed-out state with a request, no matter how you were feeling, and you think Lilia might notice this, as a glint flashes through his half-closed eyes. "We must order from this restaurant again sometime soon," he says. "Their cooking was... wonderfully gratifying." He is teasing you outright now, licking his teeth lasciviously as if he could not bear the silent interest in your gaze to flicker out. A long 'whew' blows out his mouth, and he gives his belly two firm pats. "Yes," he says, "that was truly somethi—"

A sound takes his breath away. Interrupting him is a truly sepulchral churn from his guts, shocking from such a petite man, and he falls silent, before bursting into a giggle. "That was not on purpose," he tells you.

You inform him at once that it was impressive.

"Oh, it's just the usual," he chimes. "It sounds like my tummy liked the food so much, it can't wait to start digesting it!"

You don't tell him that it sounded as if a portal to Tartarus opened inside his belly, only repeat that it was impressive.

He finishes a long, soft burp into his fist as you speak, then smiles at you. "Well," he says, "I'm happy I can still shine in your eyes, even in my old age. Heh, I plan to try at least one thing that will absolutely ruin my stomach before I pass. Would you like to be there to witness it?"

He catches your worried look before you can reply. "Oh," he says, "don't be a spoilsport and tell me not eat anything like that, alright? Fun is all about variety, and variety is all about experimentation." He sighs again, and looks down at his empty plate, and gently rubs his belly, completely, deliciously shameless in front of you.

"But I promise," he says, "this meal—" He pauses to let up a short, deliberate burp, not covering it this time. "—was quite pleasurable for me indeed." He winks. "Pardon me."

[yourimagines]

Nick being angry but not at the reader

Thank you

Hope you like this one, is a bit longer than usual

Madness

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: fluff, swearing, angst, blood, violence

Nick POV

I was hanging around with Nate, my girlfriend and some people from school. As one of them started to talk shit. “What do you mean?” Nate said to Leo. “I mean it is obvious that with all the respect to you Y/N, women are not meant to be in the work environment, that’s a man’s job.” Y/N snorted at that his comment. “I’m not attacking you, I’m just telling the facts.” Nate laughs at him. “Dude where did you get this information from, I mean in fighting yes women should not fight but having a normal regular job. Come on dude.” Leo shrugged his shoulders. “You have you opinion I have mine.” Y/N said nothing just fiddling with her fingers. “You say my girl is stupid for having a job?” Leo looked at me and smiles. “Nick I haven’t said anything about her.” “But you do talk about women, she is woman.” Leo holds his hands up. “Listen Nick I didn’t say anything about them being stupid, that’s what you say not me.” Nate subtle shook his head at me. I huffed and took a sip from my drink. “Okay.. Did you guys say the newest horror movie.” Lucas asked to change the conversation. I was looking at Y/N sitting quiet next to me, sipping from her drink and watching everybody talk.

“Okay but everyone could beat him.” Lucas said while stuffing his mouth with marshmallows. “Everyone?” “Yeah even Leo could win from him.” Leo threw a middle finger up to Lucas. “Hey fuck you man, I can fight.” Jack started to laugh. “Bro no disrespect but you can’t fight.” Leo turned his body to face Jack. “Why are you hating on me brother.” “I’m not hating just telling the truth. You can’t.” Nate started to laugh. “Why are you laughing? You don’t think I can fight?” “Brother come on, you can’t.” Lucas smiled and gave Y/N some marshmallows, minding their own business. Nate stood up as Leo was already standing. “Let’s fight then.” Jack was laughing. “Don’t pull a nerve Leo.” Leo launched forward and Nate grabbed him by his shoulders. Lucas starts to whistle. “Let’s go Leo.” Y/N laughs. Nate threw Leo on the ground and hopped on top. “You can’t fight brother.” Leo tried to swing a fist at his face but missed. “Watch out for the fire guys.” Nate jumped up and back upa bit . “You can’t even swing, I already got you.” Leo stood up brushing his pants off. “I wasn’t even ready.” Y/N laughs as Lucas pretend to be Leo. “Why are you laughing, it’s not even funny.” Leo looked angry at the two. “Having fun Mr funny guy.” Lucas nodded. “Yeah we are having fun actually.” He sat down and took a sip of his drink. Jack patted him on his shoulder. “It was a nice try tho.”

Leo was awfully quiet after the fight with Nate. He was watching the whole time Lucas and Y/N. They were roasting some marshmallows. “Do you want as well?” Y/N looked up and looked at Leo. “No thanks.” She then looked at Jack and Nate who were watching a video on their phone. “Yeah sure.” Y/N gave Jack a plate filled with roasted marshmallows. “We have some crackers in that bag if you want.” She pointed at a grocery bag, next to Leo. “Nate?” “Yeah why not.” Lucas filled a plate and gave it to him. She looked at me and raised the stick with the marshmallows. I nodded and she smiles happily. “Leo you sure you don’t want some?” Lucas asked while giving Y/N a plate for the marshmallows. “I’m sure, I don’t like marshmallows.” Y/N gave me a plate and stands up. “I can get you something else, I have these mini lays chips.” He shook his head. “I can get them for you if you want, I can look if I have someth….” “No! I don’t want anything. Are you deaf.” Y/N froze up on the spot, didn’t dare to move. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I want some from those mini chips.” Lucas said with a reassuring smile. She nods. “I’ll get them, be right back.” Her whole enthusiasm was gone. She walked with her head back into her house.

I was shooting daggers at Leo, who was just sitting and drinking from his drink. “I think you should apologise to her if she’s back.” I said while thinking a sip from my drink but not leaving my eyes of him. “Why, I told her three times I don’t want anything.” “You made her upset in her own house, you better apologise.” Leo raised his eyebrows at me. “And if I don’t apologise.” “I’ll make you apologise to her.” He laughs. “You wanna fight because of her?” I stood up, causing the rest to stand up as well. “Let’s go!” I started to pace around, feeling my anger rise up. “Nick she’s not worth fighting for, so just sit back and relax.” Before anybody knew I launched a good hook on his face, causing him to stumble back. Nate flew in front me, blocking my pathway. “Woah, easy brother. You can’t injure yourself, you have a fight next week.” Jack was blocking Leo’s way. “Fucking idiot!” Lucas walked a bit away from us. “Bitch, I’ll fight for her!” I tried to hit him again but Nate was in my way. “Move!” He held my shoulders. “Normally I would but you can’t Nick, not today.” Leo was swearing and pointing at me. I backed off a bit. “Easy Leo, you both had way to much alcohol.” Jack said while checking on Leo’s face, as blood was dripping down. “He’s a bitch, I’m not apologising to her.” Nate laughs at him. “Brother you should be glad he can’t fight your ass now, you would be dead already.” I looked down at my hand, a bit of blood was on it. I walked up to them ready to beat the fucker again. Jack saw it and tried to push Leo away from me. “Get of me!” Leo tried to come closer but Jack made it impossible. “Move.” I pushed Jack out of the way and started to hit Leo on his face. As he swings his hands around, hitting me now and then. Nate jumps on my back, pulling me away. “Your killing him.” His face was full with blood but so was mine. My hands were dripping with blood. “It’s enough now, both of you.” Jack said while cleaning up Leo’s face. He looked at me and smiles. “You like that don’t you. Hurting people.” I clenched my jaw as he tried to make me angry again.

“What happened?!” Y/N walks after Lucas with a first aid kit in her hands. “We had a fight.” Leo says with a smile on his face. “Oh my god, look at you two.” She walked over to Jack giving him some bandages. “Here, you take care of him.” She turned around and walked up to me. “Nick, what happened.” She kneels down in front of me. “Nothing.” She looked at Nate as he shakes his head. “Your covered in blood is not nothing.” “Is not my blood.” She stays quiet and cleans me up. Lucas was sitting and eating his mini chips. “You got one more?” Nate asked him. “Yeah, here.” He threw him a mini bag of chips. “Thanks.” Y/N cleaned up her mess and stood up. “Well I don’t care what happened but you both better apologise to each other.” Leo shakes his head. “I’m not a…” she pointed at him. “You better apologise Leo, I’m done with your shit. So you apologise to him, and Nick you apologise too.” She was furious. “Punching each other in my backyard, this is not the octagon. This is a no violence zone.” She walked away, back into the house. Leaving us surprised behind after her sudden outburst.

[builder051]

Drunk tank, dunk tank

Chasing ghosts

—————————

Warnings for college drinking and brief allusion to sexual assault. Also brief allusion to male anatomy.

Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. I’m so dirty, I know.

—————————

3:27 AM

Center campus courtyard

“No, no, not in the fountain.” James pulls Steve’s arm to keep him from leaning too close to the burbling three-story birdbath.

“But—now.”

“Yeah, I know.” James pulls again. This time Steve boings backward, and James shifts his weight to the back leg so he can insert his fist between Steve’s shoulder blades.

“Over there.” James nods intently toward the manicured shrubs and flower beds that form an outline of the large brick paved circle. The spring perennials are half dead and could probably use a fertilizing.

“Fine. Ok—“ Steve breaks off with a gag and slaps his hand clumsily over his mouth.

James turns them together on the spot, like some sort of perverted ballroom dance. Their scraping shoes make a horrible sound.

Steve has just enough sense to lurch away from the walkway. James grabs a handful of the back of Steve’s shirt to keep him from falling on his face. He’d hardly imagined that the robust swim team captain was such a lightweight. The guy has a bespoke whiskey collection back at the apartment for fuck’s sake.

Steve retches loudly, loosing a torrent of red-tinted fluid over the dried up petunias. He tries to hock and spit, but he’s far from finished.

“It’s ok,” James says, trying to sound comforting, though it comes out as exasperated. This clearly isn’t his idea of fun, but he’s not telling Steve that. At least not right now.

Steve’s breath hitches as the next heave overwhelms his system.

“You’re alright.” James has left his prosthesis at home, thinking a collegiate sports party wasn’t exactly the venue to bare his nuts and bolts. It would inevitably lead to investigations to arm wrestle, which he’s glad to avoid. Now, though, he wishes he had another hand to thump Steve on the back. There’s no way he’s loosening the grip he already has. The danger of Steve conking his head seems much more urgent than his possibility of choking. And James isn’t sure he can get Steve back upright once he’s on the ground.

“S-sorry,” Steve murmurs weakly. “Sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean to…” He coughs, and another spurt of sick launches from his throat.

“Yeah, I know.” James laughs humorlessly. “PGA punch doesn’t really sit well with anyone.”

Steve snorts, then gives a wet-sounding belch. “What does that even mean?”

“Oh…” James pushes his nose into his own shoulder to collect himself before continuing to speak. “It’s pure grain alcohol. What did you think it meant?”

“I don’t know.” Steve proceeds to vomit from both his moth and nose. Then in a nasally stuffed-up voice, “Like. The golf team? I think those guys made it…”

James isn’t sure the university had a golf team. To him, the whole thing is a non-sporting game reserved for the rich and famous. “Okay…” James pauses to figure out how to put Steve right without putting him down. “That would still be NC-double-A.”

“Huh?” Steve capitulates to another retch. “I thought… they brought it?”

“You were there for set-up,” James reminds him. “It was an athletic-department party, right?”

“Um… there was powder,I think? I was laying out cupcakes…”

“Yeah, those don’t agree with most people either.” James pauses for a moment. “Didn’t you notice it tasted terrible, though?”

Steve’s shoulders slump again, and he spits up something thick and purplish grey. James readjusts his hold on the tail of Steve’s ruined polo.

“Grocery store frosting.” Steve licks his teeth and sputters. Strings of mucous dangle from his lips and the tip of his nose.”

“Well, that too,” James agrees. “But the punch. Why’d you drink so much? It can’t have tasted good.”

“Powdered stuff never tastes good. You know, Crystal Light or whatever.”

“Oh jeez.” James has forgotten this particular aspect of Steve’s sheltered childhood. He’s probably never experienced the hell of drinking unsweetened, off-brand kool-aid. James will have to introduce him. Later, of course. “Did you seriously think it was virgin?”

“‘M not a virgin…”

Fuck. Drunk brain has evidently checked in. James gives the original conversation one more try before calling it a lost cause. “But why did you keep gussying it? Every time I turned around your cup was refilled. Which is pretty dangerous, as a matter of fact.” James had been counting on Steve’s draft horse of a metabolism to make him immune to GHB. He’d calculated that date rape as an extremely remote possibility. Steve would probably fall asleep on top of his would-be attacker and smother them to death.

“I had to hydrate,” Steve groans. “Between shots, you know.”

James gives an internal groan of his own. “How many of those did you have, if I may ask?”

“Hell if I know.” Steve bats at his face with the back of his hand. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t give himself a nosebleed. “Can we go home?”

“In a bit,” James tells him. “Let’s hang here for a little while.”

“I wanna go to bed.”

“Throw up some more first,” James says sensibly. “I don’t think you want to mess up your own car.”

“I can drive.” Steve sounds as complacent as a two-year-old.

“Nope. Not tonight.” James glances toward his wrist, but it’s too far away to make out the time. “Today. Whatever.”

“You can’t drive.” Steve can’t be capable of knowing how accusatory he sounds.

“Can and should aren’t the same thing.”

Steve grinds his teeth and spits again. “You can’t should drive, then.”

“Nope, that’s what you can do. After you get it all up.”

“Done,” Steve claims, but he makes no move to stand upright.

“I don’t think so, Stevie.” He’s reluctant to suggest it, but the situation calls for for practicality. Morality is long gone. James is sure the campus is supposed to be dry, the carefully constructed mess of tables and chairs left throughout the staff parking lot notwithstanding. “Stick your fingers down your throat and get it over with.”

“Ick.” Steve finally lifts his head, and it sets of a dangerous lean to the side. “I need water or something.”

“Um.” James tries to think critically while also resetting Steve’s center of gravity. He’s reluctant to change location. Maybe getting to a sink and a toilet would be worth it, but he’s not sure the buildings with conveniently placed restrooms are unlocked at this hour. “Just, maybe, turn your head and cough?” James hopes Steve won’t comment on the similarity of his words to the institutions given with a testicular exam. He’s starting to lose his mind as well.

“No, a drink.” Steve takes a wavering step, miraculously pulling both feet back onto the pavement.

“Wait,” James warns, attempting to catch Steve’s elbow.

“But I know,” Steve argues back. “Just… Lemme go.”

“Oh, fine.” If Steve faceplants, it’s his own damn fault. Maybe waiting for Steve get off the ground would be easier. Then James might take a seat himself on one of the benches by the fountain.

The fountain. “No! Steve, stop.” James redoubles his efforts to block Steve’s path. “Hell no. Come on. Step away from the fountain!”

[iheartchv]

Hello, I love the matches you do and it's the first time I've asked for a match, so I hope I'm doing it right.

 🌿🍒

I am a Mexican woman, although I am somewhat short for my age (so I have been told), I am 5'8 (158 cm), despite being 23 I am often told that I do not look my age (a problem because they always ask me for my identification anywhere), my body is not slender to tell the truth, I am rather plump (chubby and short was equal to a long time of teasing).

I am usually someone calm and serious, some would say that I have more of a bitter face, I normally try to avoid fights, whether verbal or physical, but if it doesn't work I have no choice but to resort to other options, I have been told a lot that when i get mad it's like watching a squirrel mad because his nuts were taken away but let me tell you this squirrel knows how to use his fists when needed, it's very hard to get me to that point but when it happens there's no going back.

I love reading too much, I could easily get lost for a whole day just reading about history, fantasy, architecture, space, I've always read a bit of everything, because it's just fascinating, I don't usually have a balance in my tastes honestly, one day I could be reading how the first civilizations, or machines, arose, and then reading a world of mermaids and dragons, feeds my curiosity and I'll always thank you, although I'm also a complete Otaku (I got ridiculed for that when I was younger), I love books action anime, fantasy and mystery, but I also enjoy a good romance, more than once I have cried for an anime scene or a book, I would lack fingers to count how many times I have been obsessed with an anime, series, cartoon, etc. .

Stuffed animals, lots of stuffed animals, maybe it's very childish but there's something about them that makes me love them so much (of course I don't have a room full of them), but each one I have has a certain special meaning for me, my current favorite It's one that calls it "pig-saurus" since it's a little pig dressed as a dinosaur, it sounds strange but it's actually adorable.

I love big jackets, I don't know, I just love to wear something that I could easily hide my whole body in, my favorite kind of clothes when reading or in winter.

Once I'm confident, I'm someone who smiles (I could even laugh at the worst joke in the world), a bit of a problem like a Stitch when drinking coffee, a bit foul-mouthed (my polite self quits the chat at that moment) and I tend to hug too much, It doesn't matter how big you are (height or age) I will hug you if I feel safe by your side, and many times I have been told that I am that friend with a motherly character (I accept it in fact), I honestly can't help but feel That maternal side comes out, and another thing is that I've always been the one who listens and advises, honestly sometimes I would like to be the one who could talk too, even if it's just once.

I always carry a notebook and pencil or pen, maybe you need to write an address, some errand, or there may even be a space to draw a little, you never know and you have to be prepared (That's right, I love drawing too).

 

I am very sorry that it has been so long, I hope and it is not a problem.

Your match is... Michelangelo🧡

Possible matches: Donnie, Leo

Mikey would like you

He has a crush on you

And it might seem like a Mikey thing because he had a bit of crush and flirted with April

But believe him when he says that he has a crush on you, or tells you that your gorgeous

Hes not saying it to just say it or be nice

He means it

You're the girl of his dreams

Besides April, and any other of his girl friends, you're the only woman who accepts for who he is

It took a bit of time, but you two stsrted dating

You were such a cute couple

While you both acted somewhat similar, you seem to be the mom friend so maybe you can help Mikey out if he gets out of control

And he'll calm you down if you get upset

Mikey is affectionate so he'll give you all the hugs you could ever want, and more

He won't care if he hugs you or you hug him, he 💕loves💕 it

He might not/rarely reads books a lot, but he wouldn't mind if you read to him while laying his head in your lap

This turtle is always excited for Christmas

This year, he was going to go all out: decorate, cook, have gifts under a tree, etc.

This was going to be his gift to you

The cherry on top would be the ol' kiss under the mistletoe

"I love you, more than anything in the whole world, sweetness"

"Even more than pizza?"

He was silent

"Mikey" you groaned

"I'm just kidding, babe. Yeah, I love you more than pizza."

🐢🧡💖👩

Hope you like your match 👉🧡👈

[useless-bi-otch]

Cookies'n Cream - Chapter 15

Last chapter / MasterList / art by @aneenasevla

Chapter 15 - Home Run

"... Okay, I couldn't see the whole tattoo, and I couldn't get a closer look either because it'd look like I was ogling her, and another slip on my part is the last thing I need right now, so I couldn't get too many details. But I remember that one of ‘em looked like this right... here!," Okubo lifts the napkin where he had been drawing with a pen, showing it to his friends with an anxious expression. "Can you recognize it?"

Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda lean back in their seats, their brows furrowed as they study the doodle, Himuro taking the opportunity to down a swig of sake. It is then that Rihito looks up, looking completely lost.

“Why the hell does she have a cabbage tattooed on her left thigh?”

“That's not a cabbage, dammit!," Okubo shrieks indignantly while banging his fists on the pub's table, where the four of them were drinking and stuffing themselves with snacks, enjoying the lazy Sunday night. "It's a fucking flower! Have you never seen a flower in your life?"

"One that looks like a cabbage? 'Course not! Holy shit, Okubo, it's a good thing you can make a living fighting, because if you went to work as a technical draftsman, you'd starve."

"Fuck you, Rihito! And you two?," He turns to Himuro and Kaneda, raising the napkin again. "Do you know any flowers like that? Could you tell me their name?"

Himuro and Kaneda look at the napkin again, then exchange a brief glance. The corners of Kaneda's mouth twitch a little.

"Well, unless cabbages have officially moved out of the vegetable category and into the flower category-"

"Stop messing with me, damn it!  I'm a martial artist, not a graphic designer!," Okubo gestures in frustration, to which Rihito and Himuro smirk. Kaneda just smiles sympathetically.

"Sorry, Okubo, but there's no way for us to know what you're talking about with an example like that. There are thousands of species of flowers, you know..."

"Not to mention that it's hard to believe what you're saying. You can't expect me to believe that cute, demure girl has a huge tattoo on her thigh," Rihito shrugs. "She doesn't have the mannerisms of a Yakuza informant or anything like that..."

"You're stereotyping, Rihito. Some of my girlfriends have tattoos, and you'd never guess just by looking at them," Himuro comments, "What's so unbelievable about Miss Uta having one too?"

"Didn't you hear how Okubo described said tattoo, Himuro? He said it's huge, taking up almost the entire side of her thigh. What woman would risk her job and her social and love life by doing something like that?," Rihito argues, turning to Okubo next. "Are you sure it wasn't some big birthmark or something?"

"Oh, you're right, Rihito, it must've been a birthmark. A huge one, in pastel tones and in the shape of pretty little flowers. Miss Uta is a genetic miracle," Okubo rolls his eyes. "Of course I'm sure, man! She tried to hide it from me and everything, thinking I'd judge her, that I'd think she was a 'delinquent'," He underlines the word by forming quotation marks with his fingers. "Yeah, as if. I didn't stare only because I didn't want her to think I'm a pervert."

“I thought you said you'd try to act more like yourself, Okubo."

"Shut up, Himuro!"

"Oh really? So be more specific, feed your pals' imagination, dude," Lihito encourages, opening a sharp smile. "Describe these flowers for us."

"Well, I recognized two of the species, which are daisies and gerberas. I'm still pissed at myself for not thinking about daisies right away, now it seems such a no-brainer!," He crosses his arms. "I also recognized the gerberas because my mother had a vase of them at home."

"Got it. And how was the third one you didn't recognize? The cabbage flower."

"I told you it wasn't a fucking cabbage!," Okubo throws at Rihito a piece of the steak they ordered as an accompaniment to the sake. He deftly catches it with his mouth in mid-air, laughing as he chews, to which Himuro and Kaneda applaud him, also laughing, and Okubo snorts. "Asshole. Anyway, it was actually a cluster of several smaller flowers, elongated, and it looked a bit like a corn cob..."

"Holy shit, how did you make something that looks like a corn cob look like a fucking cabbage?," Himuro makes a face. "It takes a special kind of talent to be that bad at drawing... and stop wasting food!," He scolds when Okubo also throws a piece of steak at him.

"Come on, stop it. Anyway, a cluster of flowers that resembles a corn cob, you say...?," Kaneda looks inside his clothes, pulling out his phone. "There are some that come to mind, but it's better to research to be sure."

"Thanks, Kaneda!," Okubo puts his hands together in front of his face and lowers his head in a little bow. "I've been searching since yesterday, but all the results for 'flower that looks like a corn cob' don't look anything like what I saw on her tattoo.

"And yet you say you didn't stare for too long," Rihito laughs, also pulling his phone out of his sweatshirt pocket. "But I don't blame you, man. I just keep imagining her soaked clothes, glued to that nice, curvy body, her tattooed leg all wet..."

"Ooh, boy, it was a blessed sight indeed, ehehe...," Okubo opens an idiotic smile, both exchanging giggles, ignoring the unimpressed looks Himuro and Kaneda were throwing at them.

"Aren't you going to ask them to show the girl some respect?," The former asks, to which the latter shakes his head.

"I've already gathered that they do, in their own stupid way. Asking for more than that is like asking for water to stop being wet."

Himuro laughs, picking up his phone on the table. 

"Alright. I feel very generous today, so I'll also help with the research."

"Me too! Ever since Egghead took an interest in Miss Uta, our hangouts have become a little merry, gay ride. And if you can't defeat 'em...," Rihito jokes while connecting to the pub's wi-fi. Okubo sniffs hard, lower lip quivering.

"Holy shit, guys, you're the fucking best...! I swear I'll make it up to you somehow..."

"Then pay for the steak, this stuff will cost an arm and a leg even with us splitting the bill."

“Hunf…okay, fair enough. But it'll only be this once!," Okubo warns with a grim face. "Don't ever think that I'll become your sugar daddy or whatever..."

"Considering how much you spent on florists this past week, you've already filled that spot in Miss Uta's life... there you go, Okubo," Himuro shows him his phone screen," I found these cornflowers. Is this it?"

"No. But dammit, they really look like a cob...," He comments, staring at the screen, while Rihito raises his phone too.

“I found these ginger flowers. Pink, delicate and sissy, just the way women like it."

"Yeah, but that's not it either. Damn, this is harder than I thought...," Okubo laments, to which the other three look at each other.

"Man, just go to the date with only the daisies and the gerberas," Lihito suggests." It's more than enough, and two out of three is still a high score."

“With a mindset like that, the mystery of how you got enough high marks to get into Teito remains unresolved,” Himuro comments, to which Kaneda laughs and Okubo shakes his head.

"It wouldn't work, dude, at least not in my current situation. This is gonna be more than just a date. It's a chance I'll never get again," He explains, his voice intense, even a little anguished. "I've already done too much wrong by her and made her think I don't care enough. I want to prove otherwise, to show that I care way too much, and what better way to show that than by bringing her all the flowers she likes? I don't know, I just want to show that, for me, she's worth the effort..."

He scratches the back of his head, blushing a little, too embarrassed to face his friends. He waits for the laughs, the sneering comments that used to accompany his outbursts. But what he hears is a chorus of exasperated grunts. And as he looks up in surprise, he watches them feverishly typing on their phones.

"I swear to God, that date better go without a hitch," Rihito snorts, and Himuro nods.

"Ditto. You'll owe us a big one, Egghead."

"Holy shit, guys...!," Okubo babbles, his chin trembling a little, to which Kaneda raises a finger to him, still typing with his other hand.

“Don't make any more promises of compensation, Okubo, or you'll owe us for the next five years. Anyway, I found these lavenders."

"Nah, it's not that..."

"Catmint?"

"Nope."

"Delphinium?"

"Very similar, but no."

"And those gladioli?"

"YES!!!," Okubo yells excitedly, making half of the pub jump, while leaning over the table and taking the phone from Kaneda's hands. "That's it! Holy shit, even the colours are just like what I saw on her tattoo!"

"Fucking finally!," Rihito groans while Himuro and he drop their phones on the table and sink into their chairs. "Seriously, why did Miss Uta have to like such specific flowers? What happened to the good ol' roses? Women these days are getting harder and harder to please..."

“All this difficulty is karma. Okubo is doing penance and he dragged us with him," Himuro takes a sip of sake. "But well, there it is. You now know the basics about her. The rest you'll discover during this date."

“And you won't be able to count on our help this time. Try not to have another anxiety attack, please," Kaneda asks, and Okubo shakes his head vehemently.

"I won't, I promise! Now I feel much more confident," ​​He guarantees, typing the word 'gladiolus' in the Google search bar on his own phone while returning Kaneda's. "She warned me that this would be my last chance, guys. If I screw it up..."

"You fucking won't! We'll make sure of that," Rihito slaps him on the shoulder, pointing to his nose in a warning. "If you show up at Dai-Uchu-Sakaba on Saturday, we'll kick you out of there while beating the shit outta you. Got it?"

"Ahaha, got it! Seriously, guys, send me all the good vibes you have," Okubo asks, taking a long sip of sake to calm down. "Nothing can ruin my date with Miss Uta, nothing!"

"Leave it to us, man! May the gods shine their light up your head and guide you in your endeavor to win this girl back," Lihito raises his arms up as if he were praying. "But make sure they don't shine it up too much, because a reflection in that bowlingball head can cause a plane crash."

They laugh out loud as Rihito dodges the punch Okubo tries to land on his shoulder. But even he was smiling. It was good that his friends were wishing him all the luck in the world, because honestly, he was going to need it...

* * *

At six-forty on the Saturday of the following week, Tomori was waiting, arms crossed and feet a little restless with anxiety, in front of Akihabara Station, where she and Okubo had arranged to meet via text message. It was still twenty minutes to seven o'clock, so you couldn't say he was late. And yet, she couldn't help but feel anxious and wonder if this second chance was even worth it.

For that second date, she decided to avoid repeating the overproduction made for the first. No spending money on hairdressing and waxing, because Akane would question her sanity and her self-esteem if she showed up at the beauty salon where she worked and gave the same explanations. She washed and brushed her hair herself, put on light makeup, and chose an outfit that consisted of a lilac sleeveless blouse with a round neck and a white flower-print skirt. The black platform sandals made her feel taller and a little more confident, which she needed. She didn't want to go too far, after all, she was going to that date without any expectations, for the sake of her own emotions.

If Okubo was even five minutes late, she would catch the next train and leave. It was one of the reasons she'd chosen the station as a meeting point, in addition to being a well-lit, busy place with police officers standing by in case she felt too uncomfortable. It seemed too pessimistic to be already expecting another fiasco, but Tomori felt that this was the only way to protect her heart from another disappointment. Even her friends had agreed with her line of thinking.

"If it was up to me, you wouldn't even have accepted a second date, but since it's your decision...," Kanami had told her with a sigh, the day before, when Tomori decided to take advantage of her lunch break to inform her and Hiro of her decision. "Your idea of ​​going expecting nothing is great. If he doesn't show up, or shows up acting like an idiot, turn around and take the first train away from Akihabara. Don't wait for apologies and explanations."

"Yes! And call us if you need to," Hiro added. "In the worst case scenario, Kana here is going to give that gorilla another beating. You won't be helpless if it's up to us, sweetheart."

"Exactly. And from there, we can all go eat something," The baker nodded. "It won't be a wasted night, not even if that idiot isn't able to keep his promise."

"Thanks, guys…," Tomori nodded, her friends' loyalty towards her decreasing her anxiety considerably and making her smile. "He's shown himself to be a better person these last few weeks, willing to fix his mistakes, but I don't want to give the benefit of doubt just for it to hurt me again."

"That's called common sense, girl. I wish other bitches used their heads more, instead of letting their hearts and their need for a dick speak louder..."

"Keep it down, Hiro!," Kanami hissed, her index finger over her lips. "But yeah, he's right. We'll both be on standby in case things go awry again. Send a message, whatever the case."

"I will. Whether this works out or not, I'll keep you posted.” Tomori nodded, and Hiro suddenly grinned.

"I've got an idea! Why don't you inform us of the results through codes? Like in those movies where they say 'the eagle landed' to signal that the president of the United States got off the plane or something like that..."

"Hiro, this isn't a half-assed action movie..."

"If the date goes well, you send us a text message with the words 'The gorilla came down from the Empire State', and if it goes wrong, you send us 'the gorilla was shot down by the fighter jets’!”

"These codes are too long and specific! The goal is for them to be short and impactful!"

"And that's coming from someone who says she doesn't like half-assed action movies. Kanny, you hypocrite..."

Tomori just chuckled, a hand over her mouth as she shook her head.

"Okay, we're all set then. I'll go to Akihabara Station with no expectations. But if everything ends up working out..."

“Then give that giant ape the crushing leglock I know is your specialty. Make him beg for mercy!"

"Whatever happened to not letting the urge for a dick speak louder than one's head? Who's the hypocrite now?!"

Tomori laughed at that time. Now, the memory still made her laugh, which was just as well because her nervousness was building, ignoring her initial promises that she wouldn't expect anything from this second date, in an attempt not to be disappointed again. She trully was one hell of an idiot...

She sighs, crossing her arms in an attempt to relieve some of that unpleasant tightness in her chest. Jeez, how could she blame herself? It was almost impossible not to create involuntary expectations when Okubo had given her every reason to think that this second attempt could be different. All those interactions and relaxed conversations, the laughter, the flowers, the confessions... and also that trip to the market, which put so many things in perspective.

She checks her phone again. Fifty minutes past six. She looks around, but doesn't see the tall, broad, bald figure approaching among the passers-by coming in and out of the station. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, pressing her mouth into a tight line. He still had ten minutes. There was still time.

"Yeah, I'm definitely not as cunning as Karin, Yuzuriha, and Yuki accused me of being..."

She was still a little angry with those three and would definitely think of a way to get even. But the most prominent memories of that late afternoon were those involving Okubo. The way he came to her defense, watched her throw temper tantrums and didn't deem her too unlady-like, how he saw her tattoo and didn't judge her...

“You wouldn't even be able to hide the tattoo for long if you were going to sleep with him, dumbass.”

She chuckles at her own stupidity. It was ironic to think that she was able to open up to him more and get to know him better just after being disappointed by seeing his worst side. And now, he had the same experience, with the roles reversed. But without the disappointment part, which was a relief.

She remembers wondering, weeks ago, if he could like the Tomori who wasn't as cheerful, as sweet, as bouncy as the one he knew. She now wanted the answer to that question more than ever. She wanted to have it that day, while they both finally had the date they were supposed to have that other Saturday.

If he could accept her bad side, maybe she could accept his bad side too...

She checks her phone again. Fifty-six minutes past six. And no sign of him. Holy crap...

“I won't be disappointed, I won't. I wasn't expecting anything, afterall...”

Easier said than done, apparently. At least she already had plans in case he didn't show up. She had her credit cards with her, even though she had stipulated that he would pay. She could call Kanami and Hiro, and they could go to karaoke or something...

She looks at her cell phone one last time. Fifty-eight past six. Her stomach plummets, turning cold. She bites her bottom lip, looking over her shoulder at the entrance to Akihabara Station. Her eyes stung a little, and she hated herself for it.

"Maybe Kanny and Hiro will feel sorry for me enough to buy me a beer...", She thinks as she turns on her heels, starting to make her way back to the interior of the station...

"Miss Uta!"

Her heart skips a beat as the scream reaches her ears, the voice all too familiar to her. She turns, panting low, eyes wide and still burning.

She could see Okubo's head above those of the other passersby, his arm raised high as he waved frantically. He tries to squeeze through the mass of people, pushing some to the side, which with his size meant an accident just waiting to happen.

"Excuse me, I'm comin' through...! Excuse me, ma'am, someone's waiting for me over there... I'm sorry, sir, I didn't want to step on your foot! Jeez..." And he finally stops in front of her, panting a little, his face flushed. She couldn't tell if it was because of the rush or his excitement, etched in his expression lines, in the gleam in his gray eyes.

"Sorry I kept you waiting! I kind of had to go around town looking for something, but I've sorted it out and I'm here now," He announces while straightening his back, taking a deep breath. He was a little sweaty, his Osaka Kintetsu Buffaloes cap a little askew on his head. But his clothes were clean and, at least from this distance, they smelled good.

And most important of all, he looked completely sober.

“So… am I too late?," He asks worriedly, shrugging his shoulders a little. Tomori runs her tongue over her parched lips and checks her phone again.

It was seven o'clock sharp.

“…No,” She shakes her head, looking up at him, the smile breaking to her lips before she can stop it. “You're right on time."

Okubo lets out a huge sigh of relief, wiping his forehead with the back of his right hand.

"Thank fuck...! I'd never have forgiven myself if I had let you down again," He puts a hand on his chest. "A mistake like that is enough for a lifetime-"

"I don't want to talk about that," Tomori interrupts him, approaching and stretching her neck so he can look into his eyes. "Not now, at least. You're on time this time. And you're sober. That's what matters."

He smiles cutely, scratching the back of his neck and kicking the station floor a little in a shyness display that she finds adorable.

"Oh, c'mon, it's the least I could do. No one deserves brownie points for not acting like a complete jerk, especially considering my track record. And it was what you deserved too. So...," He rubs his hands together. "Where do we go from here?"

"Huh… I actually didn't even think about that," She answers, a bit dazed, to which he blinks a few times.

"Really?"

"Yeah... I was so focused on the meeting point and on whether or not you'd show up that I kinda forgot to plan where the date would actually take place," She confesses, a little embarrassed. And then she gives a high-pitched laugh. "I think it'll be a surprise for me as well as for you, hahaha!"

He ends up laughing too, apparently relieved to see he wasn't alone in his embarrassment.

"It will be an adventure with no destination then? I'm in!," He smiles excitedly. "​​I've had several of those with my mates. But with a girl, let alone one like you..."

"Is it your first time then? How cute!," She cooes playfully. "I'll take that into account and try to be gentle. Do you want to hold my hand? So I can guide you better..."

He frowns for a second, looking like he's about to complain. But then he thinks better of it, his expression softening, a mischievous smile making his lips curve. And Tomori's eyes widen in astonishment when he takes her suggestion, taking her hand in his and intertwining their fingers.

"With pleasure, lady," He arches an eyebrow, almost as if challenging her, his voice low and husky. "Guide me wherever you want. I am your humble follower today."

Her first impulse was to drop his hand as if it'd scalded her. Holy shit, if people saw her walking down the street while holding Okubo Naoya's hand like they were a  couple in their honeymoon phase...!

“Wasn't that one of your fantasies? And anyway, are you really going to be too embarrassed to hold his hand when up until a few weeks ago you shaved all over just to have sex with him? Bitch, get a grip!”

She takes a deep breath, trying to control the pounding of her heart. He was clearly teasing her, and if she let go of his hand, she would be admitting defeat. And she didn't want to lose the stupid little game they'd started, not at all. And damn it, it wasn't like she wasn't enjoying it. She smiles back, squeezing his hand, secretly enjoying how big and rough and calloused it was.

"So I get to decide? Nice to know. Come on, let's explore Akihabara while hoping none of your fans recognize you and make this more awkward than it needs to be."

He chuckles, keeping up very willingly as she starts walking. To where, they still didn't know, but now that they had each other's company, the destination wasn't exactly a concern.

And as discreetly as she could, she sent a message in a group chat on her phone.

Tomolfie:

The gorilla came down from the Empire State

* * *

Okubo was finding it hard to believe his own audacity, and even more so that said audacity had been well received by the object of his affection. Tomori was at that moment pulling his hand, their fingers intertwined, her palm hot and a little slippery with sweat against his. He wouldn't judge her, though; his palm must have been just as sweaty.

Damn... they looked like a couple of lovers taking a walk. He was fully aware of the consequences of being recognized on the street at the same time as being seen with her, and the most sensible thing to do was to let go of her hand. The publicity it might generate could have negative consequences for her, and he didn't want that. But letting go of her hand was admitting defeat, and if there was one thing Okubo Naoya refused to do, it was throwing in the towel.

... And not to mention the fact that he was loving the feel of her small, soft hand next to his. He'd been fantasizing about those hands for a while now. But this time, that touch didn't evoke sexual thoughts in him. Just a warm sense of closeness, a soft joy that was all natural. And damn, she smelled good, besides being beautiful... it was even hard to pay attention to what she was saying.

"Damn, it's been a while since I walked around Akihabara like this," She comments, looking around, admiring the signs, the colorful and pulsating lights, the funny advertisements for commercial establishments. "I kinda forgot how busy it can be. And that most of the stores around here are electronics stores, hahaha..."

"Hehe, it seems like a very original place to have a date," He laughs in response. "How about we go to Yodobashi and use my famousness to get a discount on those eighty-five inch LED TVs? No one will be able to accuse us of lack of creativity in planning a date".

"Yeah, but they can charge us with extortion. A guy your size doesn't even have to use his celebrity status to get what he wants," She chimes in, and he shakes his head with a smirk.

"C'mon, lady, I'm a peaceful guy! I only punch people inside matches. And once or twice during road rages that I didn't start," He shows the screen of his phone, smiling embarrassed while exposing the crack that ran through it. "I know from experience that it's not worth it."

She makes a face. "Ouch. My condolences. But well, that's what happens when you get into road rages. According to the tabloids, this wouldn't be the first you've gotten yourself into..."

Okubo blushes a little. "Yeah, I- I kinda have a history, I won't deny it. But I never start these fights, I just end them. And the guy was an asshole, he threw my brand new phone on the floor..."

"I understood. And speaking of which, it's the first time in about ten years that I've seen someone using a V3 phone." She looks curious, "I've never seen a model like that in recent times, not even in thrift stores..."

"It was a gift from a friend," He explains, smiling with a certain pride. "It's a classic, fits well in my pockets and has all that typical cell phone charm of the 2000s. They don't make models like that anymore nowadays."

"I imagine, but it must be difficult to use it with the screen all cracked like that."

"It is, but the downside of having a predilection for the classics is that it is difficult to find assistance for them when they go out of line..."

"No problem! Let's take advantage of the fact that there are several electronics stores close by and look for a technician who will take a look," She suggests, already pulling his hand in a specific direction, but stopping when he doesn't move. She turns to him with a pout. "Hey, slacking off isn't fair! I'm not a tow truck, you know."

He laughs again. "I'm not, I swear. It's just that I don't want to waste our night chasing down a repairsman for an obsolete phone. That can wait," He puts his phone in his pocket. "I want to focus only on you today, to make up for all the hours lost that Saturday."

She blushes a little, looking to the side and pouting. "Apparently we're going to end up talking about this one way or another, aren't we? Anyway...," She shakes her free hand. "I'd rather we do this in a quieter place, preferably with food available. I'm hungry, what you you?"

"Me too! I left the SUV in a parking lot near the station, do you wanna go back so we can look for a good restaurant?," he suggests, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. She shakes her head.

"No need to. There are some really cute maid cafes around here. The food is delicious and the service is great, although I find the desserts too sweet...," She comments, a little thoughtful, taking a few seconds to notice his astonished expression. She blinks. "What?"

"A maid cafe?," He repeats as if he wanted to make sure he heard right, to which she nods, stunned.

"Yeah. Why? Are you uncomfortable in places like this?"

"I should be the one asking you that," He gestures to her with his free hand. "There are lots of women who are uncomfortable in these places, they say that the waitresses’ uniforms are too sexualized, I don’t know…"

"Well, yeah. But what about you? You like it?," she asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Uuh...," He looks away, blushing a little. "A little? Yeah, just- just a little..."

She laughs, looking almost triumphant. "Like every straight man I know, hahaha! But seriously, I have no problem with maid cafes. They're part of my industry and the girls are just doing their job. The problem is perverts who don't know how to hold it inside their pants."

"Ahaha, yeah...," He gives a very nervous smile, and she nods solemnly.

"Yeah. And anyway...," Her smile suddenly fades, replaced by a shy expression. "I... I kinda worked on one of these."

"Wait, for real?!," He exclaims, his jaw dropping, again stopping walking and accidentally forcing her to stop too with a jolt. She makes a face at him.

"Seriously, stop it already! At this rate you'll end up practicing the shot put with me!"

"Sorry! But... a maid cafe?," He repeats the words, his eyes wide. "You?!"

"No judgments, please," She snorts. "I was only eighteen and needed money to cover my expenses after getting into college. And there was no way they could hire me as a cook without experience."

"I'm not judging, I promise!," He assures, waving a hand. "Like you said, these girls are just doing their job. But these places tend to have strict rules and restrictions..."

"What are you getting at?"

"The tattoo."

"... Oh!," She seems to understand, her blush intensifying. "Okay, fair enough. But at the time I still didn't have a tattoo. It was after earning some money that I managed to go to a good tattoo parlor. I almost got fired," She admits with an embarrassed laugh. "But I was a good employee, so the manager cut me some slack and only demanded that I hide it very well. Customers found it curious that my skirt was a little longer than the other girls’. They thought I was playing the part of the shy maid. I even started getting some extra tips, haha..."

"See? Perverts are good for something, afterall," Okubo tries to joke, and he's relieved when she laughs. He didn't want her to see in his expression how his mind was in turmoil, filling with vivid, unpuritanical images.

Tomori wearing a maid's uniform…there was something he would love to see, preferably when they were alone, if she agreed to give him that privilege. But he would keep those fantasies to himself for now. The priority was getting to know her better, and he was loving how open she was about it.

"When it comes to money they are really useful, I won't deny it. The problem was the harassment, the fear of instigating a stalker... I ended up not lasting long as a maid," She comments after managing to control her laughter. And then she frowns. "On second thought, maybe we shouldn't go to a maid cafe. These memories will sour the mood. Unless you liked the idea and want to go."

"Lady, I already told you, I'm just your humble follower today," He makes a wide gesture with his arm. "Guide me through Akihabara, leave this osakian hillbilly here fascinated with all this modernity."

"Stop that, I know that Osaka has tourist spots as cool and modern as Tokyo!," She laughs again. "And you've lived here for a while, haven't you? You must know the most interesting places well."

"Yeah, kinda. But I have never walked through them in the company of such a beautiful guide." 

"And here comes the famous silver tongue, Okubo Naoya's most striking feature outside his matches...," She jokes, and her blush now seems to steem from hapiness, if his eyes didn't deceive him. He smiles humbly.

“This time I'm just stating a fact. And I can mask a lot of things from the public, but the fact that I can't shut up for a minute is not one of them. You asked me to be myself, didn't you? Well, this is me."

"Yeah… and unbelievably, it surprised me in a positive way," She admits, and he had to stop himself from starting tap dancing there in the middle of the street and making a fool of himself. "I want to know what else is your true self. The cap, for example," She points to his head. "Do you wear it everywhere because you really like it or because it kinda became your trademark?"

"I use it to hide my bald spot."

"Oh, you liar!," She laughs out loud along with him. "I know that you shave your head 'cause you like it that way, I read it in one of your interviews.

"Yeah, I think my hair's pretty dumb, haha. But I really like my caps, especially this one," He touches the cap's brim. "You also know that I used to be a baseball player, right? I show with 'em that I'm still a fan even though my career hasn't moved forward."

"And even with the Kintetsu Buffaloes having merged with the Orix BlueWave. That's what I call fan loyalty, hahaha!"

"Yeah, once a buffalo, always a buffalo- wait, what?," He turns to her, amazed. "Do you like baseball?"

"I've never told you?," She smiles, excited. "I love baseball! My whole family loves it, it's another tradition of ours besides martial arts and karaoke."

"You're kidding! What is your team?," He asks, very excited, a sentiment that she apparently shared, considering how she grabbed his arm in excitement.

"Yomiuri! I even went to watch one of their games at the Tokyo Dome!"

"Oooh, c'mon! Yomiuri? No fair, everyone roots for them."

“Hey, c'mon, I've been rooting for them since I was akid! It's not a fad," She puffs out her cheeks. "It's better than being a Swallows fan just to annoy Giants fans."

"But the Swallows had Kaneda Masaichi!"

"Who also played for Yomiuri until the very end of the sixties! I know my baseball, man, don't try to test me," She warns, raising an index finger, and he laughs heartily.

"Okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure. I'm just happy to find out that we have even more in common. And how easy it is to talk to you..."

"Yeah...," She smiles, her eyes shining in that way that made his chest feel warm. And then her eyes widened. "And this whole conversation gave me an idea!"

"I'm all ears."

"Since we're making this a non-conventional date, I thought of a non-conventional place to eat too. Fancy a twenty-five minute walk?"

"Sure! If you get tired, just say so, and I'll carry you on my shoulders," He offers playfully, and she looks him up and down as if she's considering the proposal.

"Kinda risky. I might hit my head on a street lamp or something. But the view must certainly be spectacular."

“Just for that, I'm going to charge you for the prime seat,” he snorts, and she smirks.

"Oh yeah? And what would the price be?"

"A second date. If everything goes well with this one...," He adds the last sentence in a more timid tone. She seems to think for a while before smiling fondly.

"It's already going. Now let's go, before the place closes. I promise I won't make you spend too much."

"Oh, that's right, we agreed that I would pay. Smartypants," He opens a sharp smile. "Already wanting to take advantage of the moneyed guy's wallet, huh? No problem, I'll buy you all the dishes you want, along with a Burberry scarf to protect your neck from the place's AC..."

"Don't you dare!," She screeches in alarm. "You…! Stop laughing!," She complains while he bent over himself a little, hugging his belly. In the end, even she couldn't resist, breaking into laughter with him.

Hell, if hanging out with her was always going to be like this, Okubo would want to go on a lot more than just two dates.

* * *

"A themed restaurant?"

"Yes!," Tomori exclaims, excited, while contemplating Okubo's surprised expression when facing the establishment's lighted sign. "Very pertinent to our earlier conversation, isn't it?"

"Pertinent as all hell...," His voice drops to a low level, and Tomori had to hold back the urge to laugh, proud of herself and how her peculiar taste came in so handy. Who else would have the idea of ​​taking Ultimate Fight's heavyweight champion, who was a baseball lover, to eat in an entire restaurant focused on that theme?

... Okay, probably several people who also knew this personal taste of his, but she took the lead like a pro!

"Come on, we're not just going to stand here admiring the facade, are we? Let's go in and look for a table," She invites, and with more tranquility and confidence than earlier, she offers him her hand. "Then we can talk better while we wait for our order. I'll tell you, I miss having other people cooking for me..."

"I can imagine, haha! But I thought you'd prefer a more sober, sophisticated place...," He comments, accepting the offered hand and looking equally relaxed. Tomori shakes her head.

"I'm not dressed properly for a place like this. And when I said you were going to pay I wasn't necessarily thinking about maxing out your credit card," She smiles sheepishly. "It was a test actually..."

"Test?"

"Yeah. I wanted to see if being subpoenaed to pay the bill would make you give up on a second date," She admits, and as she said those words aloud, she felt shame burn in the pit of her stomach. That sounded so ridiculous and childish now... "I shouldn't have done that, I'm no longer a teenager to be testing the commitment of the guys I date. So no need to worry, I'll pay my own bill-"

"Ah-ah-ah! No way, ma'am," He interrupts her unceremoniously, taking the lead and opening the restaurant door. "I agreed that I'd pay, and that's exactly what I'm going to do." "But…," She hesitates, the guilt getting harder to ignore. "I don't want to be left feeling indebted to-"

“Chivalry is not a debt, lady. Even more so when I have something to prove," He declares, interrupting her again. "I promised myself that I wouldn't make you regret this night, like you regretted the other. I want you to make the most of it."

She ends up laughing a little, unconsciously raising her hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Damn, it was hard to insist when he spoke with such determination. Just as it was hard not to feel special for being the motivation behind all that disposition.

"Haha, fi- fine. But you deserve to enjoy it too, c'mon."

“Believe me, I'm enjoying it already.” He looks at her intensely over his shoulder before taking a few steps forward, and she lets herself be guided this time. But suddenly he stops, as she almost bumps into his broad back.

"Ow! What's the matter?"

"This conversation just now…," He turns to her again, looking worried. She blinks, confused.

"What about it?"

"... That wasn't a test either, was it?"

Tomori can't help it, letting out a loud farting sound from her mouth, briefly wondering if other diners inside the restaurant were listening, and discovering that she didn't care too much.

"Hahaha, no! But if it was, you would've passed with honors," She pats him on the back, enjoying his expression of smug glee, before the two of them cross the archway of the restaurant's front door.

The interior was more or less what they would have expected from a restaurant made specifically for baseball lovers: there were small pennants with the symbols of various teams, both national and international, hanging from the rafters in the ceiling, topping the various tables and chairs lined up in front of what appeared to be a big screen, where the games were probably shown to customers; at that moment, the screen displayed the various menu options. In the far left corner of the large space was a bar where drinks were served for lone diners who didn't want to go to the trouble of waiting for one of the tables to vacate, and beyond that, a brick wall with a display of framed photographs showing various teams, players and important and historical moments of the sport. There was even a special area where customers could take their own photos with this scenery as a background. Okubo immediately felt at ease there. Who knew there would be a space like this tucked away in the streets of Tokyo?

The restaurant, at the moment, was not very busy; it wasn't game day so it was understandable. And he honestly preferred it that way. That way Tomori and he could talk without having to raise their voices to be heard over the din of a crowded establishment. He whistled low in an approving tone.

“Wow… if the owner isn't a baseball fanatic, I'll eat my cap,” he comments, and Tomori chuckles.

"I know, right! And here you can be sure that no one will remind you of the rules of etiquette and ask you to take it off. It's been a while since I've been here, it hit me with nostalgia..."

"I can imagine. And I also can imagine how busy this place must be on game days," He nods as they approach the reception area. "Must be a hell of an experience to watch a game in the company of a bunch of other people, many of them drunk, jumping and screaming, celebrating or cursing..."

"And it is, until your father and brother lose their collective shits and start hugging half the establishment as if everyone here had that level of intimacy," She opens an exasperated smile at the memory. "But honestly, the familiar atmosphere makes this place one of my favorites! You can pop in here on game day, you won't regret it."

"Without you? I don't think so," He says without thinking. And more than quickly he tries to weasel out of it., clearing his throat and gesticulating as he adds, "I mean- I got really curious to see how you act when you're watching a Yomiuri game or something. It's kind of hard to imagine you 'losing your shit', as you put it."

She gives him a mysterious smile, her eyelids dropping a little. "By now you should've learned that you still don't know much about me, sir. The tattoo is just the tip of the iceberg."

"I know. This curiosity is one of the things that is driving me," He guarantees as the receptionist approaches them both, smiling politely.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Grand Slam Cafe! A table for how many?"

"For two, please," Okubo holds up two fingers, opening a charming smile. "And can you get one in a quieter space? My date and I don't want to be disturbed, if you know what I mean..."

"There's nothing to worry about, sir, we're not very busy today. But if that's what you prefer, then please follow me," The receptionist nods, starting to walk away. They follow her, and Tomori notices how Okubo's lower lip has stuck out in a pout.

"What's wrong?," she asks in a whisper, to which he shrugs.

"She didn't recognize me...," He whimpers, and she had to stop herself from bursting out laughing. She just patted his right arm sympathetically, and that seemed to cheer him up a bit.

Soon they were sitting at a table further away from the others, in a space with ambient lighting that was very close to the photo gallery. The receptionist leaves them alone after saying that the waiter will come to assist them soon, and Tomori soon becomes very aware of the way he is watching her, trying to be discreet and failing. It would have made her a little shy in the past, when she still had him on a pedestal. Now it was much easier to hold that gaze without being embarrassed.

“So… what are you thinking about?,” She finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her. "It looks like you wants to tell me something..."

"I kinda want to, but I still don't know how," He confesses, his voice low. "Not in a way that you won't interpret as me trying to sweeten you up with some well chosen words.

"If they are compliments, I guarantee that I won't."

"Yeah, there's that too," He laughs, a little embarrassed. "You look beautiful, and I'm not just paying lip service. It's just that I keep remembering that you looked beautiful that other Saturday too, and that I couldn't do anything but make some stupid comments..."

Tomori sighs briefly. She knew that, at one time or another, they would need to talk more calmly about what happened that other Saturday. It was something they needed to get out of the way if they wanted this to work. And yet, she really didn't know where to start, and if she even wanted to.

“Yeah… that was another thing that bummed me out that night. I really did my best to look good," She comments. "I don't crave compliments like I crave food or anything, but every woman likes to know that it was worth getting all dolled up for something."

Okubo squirms a little, tensing his shoulders and staring at the tablecloth.

"I know. And then there's the fact that once again we came to a place that you like, that brings back good memories, and I can't stop thinking about how I ruined your memories of that bistro..."

"If you screwed up this place too, then our case would be a lost one," She makes a face. "But that’s not what’s happening, and I’m happy and grateful for that."

"You can be happy, but not grateful," He interrupts her. And adds quickly at her confused expression, "I mean that you don't have to thank me for doing something that is nothing more than the bare minimum. That's me wanting to fix my mistakes. But I still keep thinking it's not enough..."

"… What do you propose then?," She asks after a few seconds of silence, a little uncertain. He then straightens his shoulders, getting serious.

"If we have a second date after this one, I want to take you to that same bistro. I want to be able to apologize properly to the staff there. And I want to try to create good memories there, together with you."

Tomori widens her eyes in surprise, also sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Wait, for real? But didn't you say that bistro brought back some rather traumatic memories?," She asks. "With those girls rejecting you in front of all the clientele and all…"

“Yeah, but it doesn't have to be that way for me either. I... I want to get over it. To stop whining and complaining about something that, after all, was my fault," He gestures a little, looking frustrated with himself. "And you don't deserve to pay for my shitty behavior either by not going to a place you like so much. I want to face this past of mine, you know. Both… both for you and for me," He blushes a little at that statement, but keeps his eyes steady on hers.

Tomori was once again speechless, but not for reasons related to nervousness. She would never have imagined that she would've been able to evoke that desire for change in him, even more so when she had done nothing but be willing to listen to him and allow him to try to get closer. Was that really enough?

She gets that same funny feeling of getting all warm inside, like she's just had a bowl full of miso soup. She sees the almost innocent sincerity brimming in his gray eyes, and in her vision, he's never looked so adorable and kissable. Not as the renowned fighter she admired, but as the cute idiot who had managed to tear down the walls she'd built around herself after that disappointment with sheer determination alone.

“How can I still resent him after that?”

"I… I'm thankful, even with you saying I don't need to be," She finds her voice again, and it sounded almost emotional. "This is very important to me. Not only you recognizing that flaw and wanting to improve, but knowing that it's not just to try to get off my blacklist, hahaha."

"Yeah, haha… I'd even apologize to those girls, if I ran into them again some day," He scratches the back of his head. "Not that I'm trying to blame others, but sometimes I think Mr. Iron Fingers has too much influence over me..."

"Mr. Iron Fingers?"

“Oh, yeah, you don't know. This is another nickname we gave Rihito."

"Damn, how many nicknames does he have anyway?"

"Enough to form several cocky, superhero wannabe identities, and none of them will give up asking for your friend's phone number anytime soon."

She lets out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. "My god, I can't believe I'm going to have to go back to my origins and protect my friend by threatening the manhood of a human golden retriever who's in a perpetual state of heat..."

"Origins?," It's his turn to repeat her words, curiosity making him lean a little on the table. Tomori feels her face heat up, but the amusement at his clear interest overcame the embarrassment at the memories.

"Oh yeah, you still don't know about this dark past of mine..."

"Share your dirt laundry with me and I'll share mine with you, and we agree to take each other's secrets to the graves. How about that?"

She laughs, already feeling a little calmer. "It's not really a secret, at least not for someone who knows me well. But since we're getting to know each other better... remember those annoying friends of mine we bumped into at the market?"

"Yeah, I do. They ruined my late afternoon with you, but in the end it ended up being for a good cause," He nods. "What about them?

“They called me that day by a name that used to be my nom de guerre back in high school. Tomolfie," She rolls her eyes a little. "Years go by, you get your shit together, go to college, get a job and become a respectable member of society, but they still won't let you forget your delinquent phase..."

"What? Delinquent?!," He squeaks in astonishment, then flinches slightly as a trio of friends three tables away turn to them with frowns. He lowers his tone, his voice now coming out in a hiss, repeating, “Delinquent? Like...bleached hair, modified uniforms, detention every other day?"

"Aside from the bleached hair part... yeah, pretty much," She laughs, shyly, putting a hand over her mouth. "I know it's hard to believe, but I had my angry teenage phase, and the resulting fame kind of spilled over into my adult life. No one lets me forget the skipped classes, all the hours spent in detention, the fights with other girls and even the occasional boy..."

"Not even the boys could escape your wrath?"

“I kinda didn't know how to pick my battles. Like a chihuahua who thinks she's a doberman, hahaha!," She lets out a high-pitched laugh, and is relieved when he joins her. "But it shouldn't come as a surprise to you, after seeing my tattoo. And you were a delinquent yourself, from what you've told me."

"I told you, lady, I got to be the leader of a entire gang of 'em! But there weren't any chicks there, that's for sure," He puts his fingers together on the table, looking at her with a certain fascination. "I didn't even imagine such a thing. I thought you just had a well-known bad temper."

"In general, I am a very calm person. It's just that at that time I was going through a bit of a complicated phase," She explains, her gaze blurring a bit as the memories flooded in. "I was going down a bad path. If it wasn't for Akane, Kanny and Hiro, I don't know where I would be today."

"Yeah, I feel that way about my mates too," He smiles tenderly. "But wait, isn't this Akane the girl who asked for Rihito's DMs in that photo?"

"Yep! And believe me when I tell you that Rihito doesn't know what he's getting into when he asks me for her number," Her smile sharpens. "She eats men like him for breakfast."

"Believe me, that's exactly what that good-for-nothing pervert wants," Okubo laughs to himself. "But considering everything you've told me, doesn't that apply to you too? Should I be concerned?"

"Not if you don't give me reasons to worry," She winks, and then laughs. "But seriously, I grew up from that phase. But some remnants of it always appear in times of stress. I'm kinda embarrassed..."

"Don't be. Like I said, this is you, isn't it?," He extends his hand across the table, palm facing upwards in a invitation. "And you were right, I really shouldn't be surprised, now that I think about it. Ever since I saw you with the shards of a bottle in your hand, threatening those stupid kids. It was kinda surreal..."

"Heh. Good to know you weren't just interested in the cute, bouncy Tomori..."

"She's also you. And I'm happy to know that you weren't just interested in the Naoya of the fight rings and press conferences."

She considers admitting, for a second, that until a very short time ago, she didn't know there was another Okubo to be interested in. But now that she knew and was discovering how much she liked him, she decided it was irrelevant information. She holds out her hand, accepting the invitation and placing it over his hand.

"I discovered that I can admire one Naoya as much as the other, now that I know that he is a person like any other… and oh my gosh," She then widens her eyes when she realizes what she said, her face heating up a little. "Oh, I- I called you by your first name just like that..."

He didn't seem to share her embarrassment, however. He squeezes her hand a little tighter, his face lighting up.

"I'll let it slide on one condition.”

"... Which one?"

"That I can call you Tomori too."

And oh, there it was again, that warm, cozy feeling that made her feel like an invisible blanket was covering her on a cold winter's day. She laughs a little, her cheeks starting to hurt from the power of her smile.

"Haha, okay! We're Tomori and Naoya now... damn, it's going to take me a while to get used to this," She looks away a little, resting her free hand on the side of her face. "Having all this intimacy with Ultimate Fight's heavyweight champion..."

“If you keep thinking like that, you'll never get used to it. Forget about that 'heavyweight champion' stuff from now on. Just see me as 'Naoya' and that's it," He smiles. And then he adds, after seeming to think it over for a while, "Except when you're rooting for me during a match. In that case don't ever forget that, I don't want to lose my only female fan in the whole country..."

Tomori lets out a laugh mixed with a snort, which would have embarrassed her enormously, if she wasn't already so comfortable there. "Oh no, I don't believe I'm your only female fan in the whole country, it's kinda absurd to think."

"You may not be, but even if it is the case, you're certainly number one."

"Damn, we barely sat down to eat together and you already opened the gate to let the flirting out?," She jokes, trying to hide how his words made her elated, wanting to have an indiscreet burst of joy.

"It's in my nature, you're already tired of knowing," He shrugs calmly. "If we're going to be more intimate now, you're going to have to deal with it and let me boost your ego when the urge hits."

"Oh really?," She leans over the table too, turning her head a little to the side. "Well, that goes for you tool. You're going to have to deal with the side of my personality that comes out when I'm intimate enough with people."

“Other than your anger, your verbal lashings, and your sarcasm? I've witnessed all of this in recent weeks," He smiles defiantly. "What else is missing for me to be able to say that I know you well?"

Tomori stares at him for a few moments, her expression turning serious. She opens her purse and pulls out her wallet, and from it, pulls out what looks like a credit card. She looks back at him in time to see his expression go from playful to alarmed.

"I- I'm sorry, Miss Uta- I mean, Tomori! I didn't mean to offend you, I was just kidding-"

And then he falls silent, startled, when she slides the card up and down the middle of his chest, over his shirt, then touches his forehead as if pressing buttons.

"Debit or credit?," She asks. And then she bursts out laughing at his indignant expression.

“What the- oooh, come on! Are you serious?!," He screeches while she rests her arms on the table and hides her face between them, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "Damn it! You don't have the size to be making fun of a guy who's almost seven feet tall, you...! Pffft...!," And he puts his hand over his face when he also can't hold back his laughter. "Hahaha, you- you're such a clown!"

They stay there at the table, laughing like two idiots, until the waiter approaches, already with the notepad in hand.

"Good evening! We apologize for the delay, there were some mishaps in the kitchens, but everything has been resolved...," His voice drops in volume as he realizes that the couple were too busy laughing in each other's faces to notice that he was there. He puts a fist over his mouth and clears his throat, making them both jump a little, before repeating the speech. "Good evening. Sorry for the delay, there were some mishaps...

"Ahaha, no- no problem, pal," Okubo guarantees, now a little red, but still laughing. "Sorry about that, it's just that my date here is a comedian wannabe..."

"I'm no wannabe, I'm a professional and you're proving it," Tomori straightens up in her chair, wiping a tear of laughter from her left eye. "But yes, sorry about that, sir. We're ready to order now."

"Very well. Let's be brief then, I don't want to bother the cute couple more than necessary," The waiter jokes, and Tomori manages not to blush too much. The satisfaction was seeing that Okubo apparently wasn't bothered by the comment, considering how he scratched the back of his head and grinned like a fool.

They order, and when the waiter walks away, they go back to talking in a lower tone, Tomori having to do a lot of effort not to burst out laughing again when he sees the pout he's making.

"Come on, don't make that face. Didn't you want to know all the sides of me?," She turns her head a little to the side. He gives an embarrassed smile.

"Yes, I did. It's just that I was taken aback by your initial reaction. I thought I screwed up yet again..."

She smiles sympathetically, tenderly, reaching out to pat his wrist. Hell, who would have thought a few hours of heart-to-heart talk would be enough to make her so physical and comfortable in his presence.

“You don't have to walk on eggshells like that with me anymore. We are past that stage. You showed me that I don't have anything to worry about anymore and that you're not an idiot. I mean you were that day, but if you really regretted it-"

"Rarely have I regretted something more, trust me," He guarantees. And after hesitating for a few moments, he asks, almost shyly, "Does this... Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

The question surprises Tomori a little. All night long, she hadn't given much thought to things like the pending forgiveness he had been so desperately trying to get. She ponders, and when she no longer finds any traces of resentment or the desire to make him pay somehow, she concludes that she no longer needs to hear apologies.

"... I still don't know," But dammit, it was so much fun messing with him like that! She smiles ingratiatingly, hoping he gets the message. "Depends on what else this night has in store for us."

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?," Fortunately, he seemed to be quick enough to read between those specific lines, returning the smile. "I got it, lady. Our night is not over yet. After we eat and get the check, I want to take you somewhere."

"And may I know where this is?"

"Well, I thought, since we're doing a very baseball-focused tour, why not keep going along those lines? I hope the work in the kitchen has strengthened your arms, hehe."

Tomori blinks, her eyes widening a little as she understands what he was getting at.

"Wait, so you're thinking about...?"

* * *

"Ugh! Heck, I definitely didn't come dressed for this..."

"What? Are you going to throw in the towel now? And you still call yourself a Yomiuri fan?"

"Hell no! The pitcher doesn't talk, he just pitches!," Tomori snorts as she repositions the bat over her shoulder, bending her knees a little while preparing for the next ball to come. Okubo laughs, holding out a hand covered in a baseball glove, and one of the employees at the sports center who was responsible for the batting cages  throws him a ball, smirking at the jabs the couple exchanged.

It was an unusual place to go on a date, to say the least, and not something he saw every day. But there was no complaining when the customers were Okubo Naoya and a beauty, and the fighter was known to be quite generous when it came to tips. Even more so when there was a woman he wanted to impress nearby. He had even dismissed the pitching machine for the privilege of being the one to throw balls for her to hit!

"Hahaha, alright then! Just don't try to use your clothes as an excuse for not knowing how to use a bat..."

"And who said I don't know? You should have seen me in high school!," She exclaims, spreading her legs a little to find the best position. "I only didn't join my school's baseball club because they didn't have a women's division. Yoshida Eri wants to say hi to you..."

"Tell her I said hi too, and that the Kobe 9 Cruise uniform will always be her best look. It's a joke!," He laughs loudly as she frowns. "And I don't doubt anything about the things you told me, I promise. I used to be a hitter and I can see that you have some experience. Your grip is very firm and the position of your legs is correct..."

"Oh, thank you!

"But the angle at which the bat is positioned can be improved."

"Wait, really? But I've always played like this…” She looks at the bat, confused. He smiles and takes a stance, lifting one leg for leverage.

"Better to explain in practice. Here it comes!," And he throws the ball without warning, and even if he moderated the force of the throw, it picks up speed very quickly. Tomori yells in surprise.

"Wait, I still haven't- aargh!," She swings the bat on automatic and hits the ball, returning it to Okubo. He runs backwards, raising his hand, and manages to catch it with his glove before it hits the floor. She exclaims, panting a little, "A little warning would've been nice, y'know!"

"Nah, I wanted to see a spontaneous hit from you, and also if your reflexes were good," He raises a thumb. "Not bad! You have a firm grip and good positioning of your legs when accelerating. But did you notice one thing?," He lifts the glove, showing the ball nestled in it. Tomori frowns thoughtfully.

"… The ball didn't go very far. You barely had to run to get it," She concludes, and he nods, again giving the thumbs up.

"Exactly. And that's because of the angle at which you've positioned the bat. Here, let me show you..."

He throws the ball back to the employee, who deftly catches it while watching the fighter approach his date. He positions himself right behind her, holding out his hands but stopping midway in a brief hesitation.

"Uh... can I...?"

“Sure, go ahead,” She nods, relaxing her shoulders, and he immediately places his hands on the sides of them. The employee sees how they both seem to become electrified by the contact and closeness, she blushing, he swallowing a little. Damn...

"O- Okay," Okubo manages to say after clearing his throat. "You know there are three ways to position the bat, right?"

"Yes. Perpendicular to the ground, parallel and a mixture of the two."

"Yeah. Most people prefer the middle ground of the third option, and this is the one you were using. There's nothing wrong with it per se, but I don't think this is the best position for you specifically," And before the questioning look she threw him over her shoulder, he explains, "It has everything to do with the speed of your reaction and the force you apply as you swing the bat. You're the type to hit the ball hard, as if it had talked shit about your mother or something," He jokes with a laugh. "And for those people, the best position is perpendicular to the ground. Can you tell me why?"

"Hnnn… because it's the angle that can generate the more powerful hit," She concludes after thinking again. "Because it allows more space for momentum. Did I get it right?"

"You sure as hell did, lady!," he exclaims excitedly, raising his right hand in the air, and laughs out loud when she jumps up to try to high five him while huffing. She takes revenge by hitting him in the stomach with a horizontal fist; not too hard, but enough to make him double over a little with a sound that was half laugh, half groan. She finally gives him a high five, laughing too.

“And be thankful I used my fist and not the bat.”

"Damn, you're mean…," He whimpers, but the wide smile on his face belies his statement. "​​I want to see all that aggressiveness in your next swing, okay?"

"Okay! But seriously, I'd never tried using the bat perpendicularly," She comments, returning to position herself while he goes to fetch the ball from the employee. "I’ve been told that it’s not the best angle for a woman because it requires a lot of strength..."

"And I already saw that you have said strenght in abundance. I mean, my stomach is hurting even now!," He touches his belly before positioning himself as well. "From one baseball lover to another: you have lots of potential. I've known that since that late afternoon in that alley."

She smiles, biting her lower lip a little as she looks down at her feet. Only he could turn a traumatic memory of hers into a source of pride...

"Hehe, okay… I'm ready whenever you are," She positions the bat as she spreads and plants her legs on the ground, leaving it perpendicular to the ground, as he suggested. She adjusts his grip to make sure the bat doesn't slip and fixes her eyes on the ball as he throws it in the air, then catches it. She had a feeling he would try the surprise throw tactic again, but now she felt a lot more confident.

He smiles, glancing sideways at the sports center employee, as if he's non-verbally communicating with him. And then, as she had predicted, he hurls the ball without warning, and with even more force than before. She doesn't hesitate, gritting her teeth as she pulls up with her upper torso and swings the bat, which actually whizzes as it cuts through the air and slams into the ball.

Okubo doesn't get a chance to run to catch the projectile this time. The ball flies over his head at an impressive speed, hitting the net that surrounds the cage and falling to the ground. He follows the trajectory with his jaw dropped, then opens a huge, excited smile.

"See? I knew it! That was freacking awesome!," He exclaims, raising his fists in the air and running towards her. Tomori squeals in happiness, jumping up and lifting the bat high in the air with both hands, then opening her arms to him.

"HomeRun! Hell, I've never been able to hit a ball that far before! Thank you, Naoya!"

He barely had time to register the fact that she'd called him by his first name. She wraps her arms around his torso and presses the side of her face against his chest in the tightest hug she can muster given the difference in height and width. And yet, it felt like a giant, soft, warm blanket wrapped around him, making his heart flutter. And he isn't able to contain himself, returning with a loud laugh, practically lifting her off her feet in his excitement.

"You're welcome, Tomori! I said you were gonna make it!"

Being squeezed like that by those huge arms was a little suffocating, but Tomori didn't care and wouldn't give up that feeling, dignity be damned. She squeals as she feels the ground vanishing beneath her feet, but laughs out loud afterwards.

"Hahaha, put me down, you nutjob! How are we going to switch positions with me dangerously close to air traffic?"

"Switch positions?"

"Yes! I want to pitch this time so I can see your hits firsthand!"

"Ooh, I don’t know if this cage would be able to survive my hits," He jokes, and as expected, he was unable to resist her pitying expression. "But I’ll do it with pleasure, if it makes you want to hug me like that more times, hehe."

She blinks. And then turns very red, letting go of him at once and landing on the ground with a high-pitched sound of distress that he found adorable. She hands him the bat without looking at him, embarrassed, while he just laughs at the effect he's caused.

"L- Leave me alone! Just- Just give me the glove and go get the ball while I do some warm-ups. I'll show you how good I am with my arms," And she turns her back on him, stretching, even doing some jumping jacks. He laughs again and goes to catch the ball, but the employee who was watching them had already gone ahead. He throws the ball at him.

“Here, Mr. Okubo."

"Thanks, man! And also thanks for letting us occupy one of the cages near the center's closing hours. I promise I'll make it up to you," Okubo pats him on the shoulder, and the employee smiles simply.

"No worries. We saw that you had company, so it didn't hurt to give you a hand. She's cute."

"Like all hell, man..."

"And she seems to be nice too."

"You have no idea how much…," Okubo sighs, to which the employee suppresses the urge to laugh to maintain professionalism.

"Well, I wish you luck. If I can do anything to help, just let me know. An extra five minutes in the cage next visit, maybe?"

Okubo laughs, shaking his head. "That would also mean more money for you, right? Anyway, I'd appreciate it. Any extra minute with her would be a gift, really..."

They both watch Tomori stretch, her hips gyrating as she stretches her arms, her skirts billowing. It was so good to have found someone who shared so many of his interests, even more so for baseball... that's when an idea came to his mind, making his eyes widen.

"Actually, there's something you can do for me right now!"

"And what would it be?"

"Tell me, do you have a permanent marker I can borrow?"

* * *

"Seriously, what are you hiding from me in the backseat?"

"You'll know soon enough. Now stop trying to peek, you little tattletale."

"How rude! That's no way to talk to a dying woman!," Okubo feels a hand hit him on the back as he leans into the SUV, picking up the last surprise of the date that had been hidden all this time under a coat in the back seat of the car. He then hears Tomori whimper.

"Uugh, I'm not even that old to have sore joints like that! Working tomorrow will be an ordeal..."

He laughs, closing the car door and turning to her, hiding what he was carrying in his right hand behind his back.

"No problem, I'll carry you to the door. Would you rather it be on my arms or my shoulders so you can shout to the whole neighborhood about your new skill?"

"And then I lose my balance because of the fatigue and fall straight to my death, right? No, but thanks for the offer," She laughs, opening the gate and walking inside, her platform heels clicking on the stone path that led to the front door of her house. Okubo follows, feeling lighter than he has in weeks.

Accompanying Tomori to her house made him feel a mixture of sadness that the night had come to an end and joy that everything had turned out so well. Better than he'd expected, even. This was how their first date should have been, but honestly, it wasn't worth holding on to those bitter memories anymore. They were part of the past now. The future with her, while uncertain, seemed to hold incredible things, and that was what he would focus on.

They reach the porch, the motion sensor activating and the light above them turning on, illuminating Tomori's face as she looks up at him. She was a little sweaty from the night's activities, her makeup fading, her hair falling out of order. And he could only find her more beautiful than ever.

"Thanks for today, Naoya. I had so much fun, I have no idea..."

“I'm glad to know that. The cavalry is grateful for the preference and hopes to have won the customer's loyalty," He jokes, vibrating inside when she laughs.

"With such a quality service, it’s hard not to, haha! I just want to see if, in the coming dates, the quality of service will be maintained..."

He would've given a shout of triumph, accompanied by a punch in the air, if he had been alone. He still wanted to maintain a modicum of dignity in front of her, dammit. He just scratches his nose a little, red with happiness while giving a shy laugh.

"I- I can guarantee that! With some exclusive treats to show my commitment...," He straightens his shoulders, the palms of his hands sweating and leaving the object he hid behind his back a little slippery. "I have some gifts..."

"I told you I didn't have to…," She starts to say, but he cuts her off by holding up a finger.

“I didn't have to, but I wanted to anyway. Come on, let me do this for you. It's special this time."

She sighs, looking to the side, scratching her left wrist with her right hand. And then she nods slowly.

"Okay, fine. I just hope you remembered our conversation about extravagant gifts."

“Just trust me and close those eyes, lady."

She looks at him with some wariness, but when she meets his amused look, she sees no reason to deny his request. She closes her eyes, waiting. And about two seconds later, she shudders and gasps as she feels something being fitted to the top of her head.

"What...!," She opens her eyes and puts her hands to her head, a little startled. And her eyes widened when she looked at him and realized that he wasn't wearing his cap anymore. He smiles more.

"There you go. From one baseball lover to another."

With eyes wide, Tomori removes the Osaka Kintetsu Buffaloes cap from her head, her jaw hanging open, the air catching a little in her throat. She turns it over in her hands, disbelieving, and sees another thing: there was a signature under the brim of the cap. His autograph, the very same one she got the day they met, at the Heavy Bakery.

“You said you wanted gifts that meant something, didn't you? It's something for you to always remember tonight," He scratches the back of his head, looking almost apprehensive now. "A souvenir… I- I know it's not a big deal, but-"

He is interrupted when she lets out a squeaky little scream, startling and nearly dropping what he was carrying behind his back. Tomori presses the cap to her chest, her eyes huge and shining, the platform heels of her sandals clicking on the floor as she practically tap dances with happiness.

"Ooooh, my god, I can't believe it!" I- I got an autographed cap from Okubo Naoya! This is an exclusive collector's item! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my gooood...!"

"S-So you liked it? Really?!," He exclaims, smiling from ear to ear in a mixture of relief and elation. "Damn, it's so good to know that, even after everything, you're still my fan..."

"I'll always be! And I loved it, even more so because you know how much I love baseball! Thank you, thank you!," She puts the cap back on her head; it was a little too big for her, the flap covering her eyes, which forces her to turn it around and damn, she looked even more adorable that way! She raises her eyes to him again, which seemed almost teary. "I'll keep it and take good care of it for the rest of my life, I won't even wash it so I don't risk erasing the autograph...!"

He laughs heartily, his free hand on his belly. "You can wash it, I used a permanent marker made for fabrics, hahaha! And I'm so glad you liked it..."

"Yes, but...! But this is your favorite cap, isn't it?," She suddenly hesitates, stopping bouncing. "The baseball cap from the team you remain loyal to, even after it has merged with another. Are you really going to give me something so valuable?"

"Look, it is speciall to me, I'll give you that," Okubo concedes with a nod. "It's one of the most valuable items in my wardrobe. And that's why I'm entrusting it to someone who knows as much about its value as I do," He smiles tenderly at her. "Take good care of it for me, okay? It's yours now."

Tomori bites her lower lip, which was trembling, hard. She sniffles, her eyes even more teary, and nods vehemently.

"I- I will! I promise to you..."

He wanted so much to wipe away her tears, but he stopped himself. He waited for her to calm down before continuing, feeling even more anxious.

"Now hold your horses 'cause it's not over yet. There's one more thing I want to give you."

“Holy crap, is there more? You want to go to jail for killing me or something?!," She shrieks, and if he had laughed louder, he probably would have woken up the whole neighborhood.

"Shit, of course not! How am I supposed to take you out in another date if you die?," He jokes, and she hears the sound of plastic cracking when he moves his hand hidden behind his back. "Okay… I hope you like this one as much as you liked the cap."

And finally he reveals what he'd been hiding from her all that time, showing her the bouquet of flowers, the daisies and gerberas and gladiolus neatly arranged inside the cellophane.

Okubo watches, with some apprehension, as the smile fades from her face. She takes a deep breath, her chest filling up, her breath catching. And finally, finally he sees that pretty face take on the countenance he had so longed to see, all the times he brought her flowers, wanting to win that silly game she imposed. The red checks, the sparkling brown eyes, her pink mouth open in a mute 'O' of someone who didn't have an adequate word in the vocabulary to express what she was feeling. She reaches out slowly, taking the bouquet from him, and holds it in one arm as she unconsciously touches the side of her left thigh, above her skirt.

The thigh where the tattoo was.

In another situation, he would've been extremely smug about his masterful win. But now, all he could feel was an almost overwhelming desire to do more amazing things like that, so he could keep seeing that expression of awestruck happiness, over and over, on her face.

"So?," He starts, his voice weak. "Did I get it right?"

She doesn't respond right away, still admiring the bouquet, inhaling slowly to smell the flowers. She looks up at him, wetting her parched lips with her tongue, making them even glossier. She approaches him, resting her hand on his chest. And she begins to stretch out on tiptoe, slowly, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

"... Yes. Yes, you did."

She didn't need to stretch further. He bent down to meet her halfway without asking permission because he knew he didn't need to. And when he finally touched her mouth with his, he found he didn't need many other things anymore. Oxygen was one of them.

He encircles her waist with one arm, while she rests her hands on his shoulders, the bouquet on her right hand hitting him in the ear, but who said he cared? Continuing to kiss her was far more important, and she seemed to think the same, licking his lips slowly, and he sent the pain in his back to hell as he bent down to kiss her back, one hand going to her hair, feeling the softness, her smell making him feel drunk, light, like his 250 pounds no longer held him to the earth. Welp, he must really be about to ascend, because his heart beating like that could only mean he was about to have a heart attack. And he would die happy if he could keep doing that to her in the afterlife, holy shit...!

Tomori touches his face with her free hand, stroking his jaw and letting out an adorable little moan as he kisses him one more time, pulling away slowly. He allows, both panting a little, staring at each other in a daze. He reaches out a hand slowly, tracing the line of her jaw with his finger, catching a strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear, making her shiver. Fuck, he'd been wanting to do that for so long...!"

"Does…," His voice is very hoarse when he speaks, so he clears his throat a little before continuing. "Does that mean I'm forgiven now…?"

"My god, and he still asks...," She babbles in disbelief, grabbing his shirt and bringing him down again. "Just shut up and kiss me again, c'mon..."

And he had never been so happy to follow an order in his entire life.

NEXT CHAPTER

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

Okay, I wrote the fic.

Content Warnings:

depersonalization

dissociation

mentions of past kidnapping

mentions of past non-consensual (non-sexual) touching

panic attack

Jon’s skin did not feel like his skin.

It hadn’t for some time. A month or more (he couldn’t tell; the storeroom had had no windows, and without a day/night cycle he’d lost track of things quickly) in a refrigerated warehouse with only the thin tee shirt he’d been wearing when they took him had left him feeling cold and numb, as inert as all the silent waxworks that had watched him for the length of his captivity.

He’d grown so used to the cold he hardly felt it until it was gone. It was only when Helen Richardson (if it was still Helen Richardson – her predecessor certainly hadn’t been Michael Shelley, anymore) had deposited him on the floor of his office that he realized how desperately cold he’d been for weeks.

He went to hug himself – from cold, from fear, from a general and overwhelming unhappiness – but found that he recoiled at his own touch. He couldn’t recognize himself in any part of the interaction. His fingers brushed the skin of his arm and felt only the inhuman chill of wax, and his arm received the touch of his hand and felt only the dead press of plastic.

That, more than anything else, is what sent him over the edge. A hysterical sound bubbled to his lips, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and when he brought his fist to his lips to try and stifle the horrible noises coming out of him, he once again felt only plastic, unyielding and inhuman, a thousand plastic fingers plying his skin with salves. There was no life in his hand, no warmth, and he feared that as much as he had feared his captors. He had never felt more a stranger to himself.

Was he himself? How could he know? His skin felt so very dead, how could he truly know that Nikola hadn’t made good on her plans? It wouldn’t be the first time someone in the Archives was replaced. The thing that had taken Sasha had known what it was, of course, but who was to say that he wasn’t something else? An unwitting cuckoo, wax and sawdust stuffed into stolen skin, sent into the heart of the Archives. 

He dropped his hand from his mouth and let his laughing-crying-shaking fit pass unobstructed. His chest heaved with the sounds, and his shoulders shuddered until he felt he might shake himself apart. If he was made of wax, he was surely testing its tensile strength with this outburst. He sobbed until his knees could no longer support him, and then he laughed, and then he fell to the ground and sobbed some more.

He only tried again to suppress the noise when he heard someone approaching the door. It was futile, though. He could no more stop his fit than he could a hurricane. He made one last, hiccuping attempt to choke down the awful sounds as the door opened and Martin poked his head in.

“What–” he started as he peered in, voice high and soft and hesitant, and then his eyes caught on Jon, collapsed on the floor. “Jon?” 

For a moment he simply stood there, eyes wide, jaw slack, and Jon could do nothing but stare back helplessly. Then suddenly he was on the ground, kneeling beside Jon and murmuring a thousand panicked questions. “Jon, what happened? Where have you been? Are you hurt?”

And Jon tried, he really tried, to answer, but he couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt the way he’d always imagined a heart attack would hurt, and his lungs couldn’t get a breath, and Martin couldn’t be here, not when Jon might not be human, not when he might not be safe.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Martin whispered, “You’re okay, just– just breathe.” Martin reached out to lay a hand on Jon’s forearm, and Jon flinched.

It wasn’t a small or subtle motion. His whole body seized and shrunk away from the contact, and Martin drew his hand back instantly, like he’d been burned.

“S-S-Sorry,” he stammered. “S-Sorry, I– I-I-I shouldn’t’ve…”

Don’t be sorry, Jon tried to say, but the only thing he managed was a choked, “Don’t.”

Martin’s hand had been warm, for the brief second it had lain on Jon’s arm, and Jon was so, so cold. It had been so long since Jon had felt any warmth. Before he could think better of it, he grabbed Martin’s hand and guided it back to his arm, pressing it firmly in place.

Martin’s eyes widened again, and he swallowed. “Just breathe, okay, Jon?”

Jon nodded, and tried his best to match Martin’s slow, deliberate breaths. It was hard, at first, and even when he managed to slow his breath he couldn’t quite get his heart to stop racing, but it helped. The utter panic in Martin’s eyes seemed to recede slightly as Jon calmed.

“Christ, Jon, your skin is freezing.”

And Jon had caught his breath enough to mutter back a serene, “Your hands are warm.”

“Y-Yeah, I know, I’ve always had skin like a furnace…”

“It’s nice.”

“Oh.” Martin blinked. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “W-Well, good. I’m glad. H-Happy to help.” He massaged Jon’s arm gently, rubbing circulation back into his cold, dead skin, and Jon felt his pulse stirring underneath it.

His pulse.

Life seemed to radiate from the feverish heat of Martin’s palm, spreading through Jon’s arm and out towards his chest, thawing him, reassuring him that he was still flesh and blood and bone. In spite of everything, he was still human.

He burst into tears.

“Jon?” With the hand that wasn’t gripping Jon’s arm, Martin reached out and cupped his cheek. Jon worried that he would ask him again what had happened, and was not prepared to give an answer, but Martin just whispered, “What can I do?”

“Just don’t let go.”

Martin nodded. His expression was gentle – it was always gentle – but there was a solemn intensity to it that Jon had never seen before, as though Jon was the only thing in the world. Jon could do nothing in the face of that expression but let himself fall forward, and bury his face in Martin’s chest.

Martin wrapped his arms around him. The heat was less intense like this, mediated as it was by the several layers of fabric between them, but more all-encompassing. The rough wool of Martin’s cardigan dug into his cheek, and Martin rubbed soothing circles against his back, grounding him, keeping his mind in the present and away from everything that had come before.

When they pulled away, Martin took Jon’s hand in both of his own and began rubbing warmth into it. 

“God, your hand,” he muttered, almost to himself.

He massaged it thoroughly, working each of the knuckles, kneading at the palm with the soft pads of his thumbs. When it had begun to feel more like a human hand and less like a block of ice, he ceased his massage and simply cradled it between his palms.

Jon wondered briefly if he was going to kiss it. He wondered if he wanted him to. His lips look soft, and he knew they’d be warm. The image came to him, unbidden, of Martin pressing warmth into his palm, his wrist, his neck, the sensitive skin at the hinge of his jaw, with greedy, feverish kisses, and he ached.

Oh.

Well. That was certainly a new development.

He slipped his hand out from between Martin’s. “Are the others in today?” he asked stiffly, clearing his throat as he did his best to banish all thoughts of Martin’s lips against his skin from his mind. “I should really explain to everyone where I’ve been.” Little as he wanted to.

“Tim’s out, but I think Melanie and Basira are around.”

“What about Elias? I have… a few words for him.”

“Still in his office, I think.”

“Right.” Jon cleared his throat again. “W-Well, I should…”

He lifted himself off the floor and tried to wipe the dust from the knees of his trousers. Martin did the same.

Jon coughed primly. “Thank you for, well… Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “Any time.” He still looked concerned, which Jon supposed was fair (finding the coworker who’s been missing for a month sobbing on his office floor was probably not what he’d been expecting from his workday), but he smiled, just slightly. The corner of his lips quirked upwards a fraction of an inch, and Jon once again found himself wondering what those lips would feel like against his. He hastened to get out of the room.

“Wait, Jon, before you go–” Martin stopped him. As Jon turned around, he shrugged out of his cardigan and held it out to him. “Take this. It’s freezing in here.”

Jon pulled the sweater on, though it swamped him. It wasn’t a perfect replacement for Martin himself, but it was about as good as he could hope for.

Swathed in warmth and finally feeling human, Jon left to find Elias.

Thinking about Jon’s time with the Circus again. Thinking about what a month spent in a refrigerated warehouse would do (because it would have to be refrigerated, wouldn’t it? it’s meant to store waxworks), just how cold his skin would be. Do you think it even still felt like his skin? Do you think his fingers brushed the skin of his arm and felt only the inhuman chill of wax, and his arm received the touch of his hand and felt only the dead press of plastic?

Thinking about how thoroughly his time with the Stranger would have made him a stranger to himself.

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

Can you make a story about Damon knowing reader likes him so he walks around shirtless to get a rise out of her.

I can't stare at you with everyone around | Damon Salvatore x Reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

Damon Salvatore, the hottest man in Mystic Falls.

I was his neighbour, also Elena's oldest sister so after Aunt Jenna's death her and Jer moved in with me in my townhouse which was nothing compared to the Salvatores.

To be fair, Elena and I practically lived with Stefan and Damon whilst Jeremy had the house to himself given the whole vampire hunter status and although Damon was a vampire that liked to get on everyones nerves, he did respect me and Elena enough not to kill our youngest sibling.

I've had a crush on Damon for as long as I can remember, I think thats a bad thing. Damon is a bad guy so no body should be able to care for him the way that I do.

"Alright, do you think Caroline would notice if there was 89 red balloons." Bonnie said over the speaker phone, Elena looks to me laughing and I chuckle "It's Caroline we are talking about, Of course she would notice." Elena responded.

Elena and I had been baking for the dance later on tonight, "So I suppose, Red Velvet cupcakes would go with the red balloons, pretty ballsy." I say "Yeah I guess so." Elena laughs.

"What are you guys doing?" Damon stumbles in with a bottle of bourbon "Y/n and I are baking, for the dance, you know the dance you were suppose to help with?" Elena questions Damon.

"Right, Well I didn't exactly feel like helping." Damon nods to us, he had been walking around shirtless for a couple of days while me, Elena and Bonnie were planning stuff at their house.

"Just like you didn't feel like putting on a shirt today?" I ask him "Or yesterday." I state "And the day before" Elena chimes in "Right and the day before that" I nod agreeing with her.

"So what? I don't feel like wearing a shirt around my house, whose gonna stop me. It's my house?" Damon throws his arms up.

Although I did just finish complaining about the half naked vampire in front of me and my little sister, I didn't mind the sight. The sight being his sculpted torso, each ab being placed perfectly not to mention the way he doesn't even have to mention it for somebody to look at his abs.

"y/n" a muffled voice said behind me, the voice continued to say my name, slowly pulling me back to reality "yes, yes what." I spin around slightly agitated. "try it" Elena says stuffing the cupcake into my mouth.

I bite it, swallowing it turning back to Damon "it's tasty" I say still staring at him whilst he stared at my sister "i don't uh like cakes though. you know that, give damon one." I smile to her and she nods giving one to Damon and he starts eating it.

"oh these are great, are you sure caroline needs them?" he asks and I nod "she needs them like you need that shirt I mentioned earlier." I mumbled taking the rubbish out of his hand and putting it in a bin.

"I don't get why I need to wear a shirt, is there something you haven't seen before?" he asks walking up next to me "Oh Matt just called I'll be right back." Elena says answering her phone and walking out of the kitchen.

"It's just children in the house, Damon, a shirt should be a rule when there is children." I say rinsing off the baking tray and bowl, placing them into the dishwasher.

"I think there is another reason." he says closing the dishwasher with his leg "well n- hey" I look at him annoyed punching his chest. My fist touching his bare skin sending shivers down my spine.

"tell me, before I compel it out of you." he says, his tone getting lower than usual "luckily vervain exists and you used to have a basement full of it." I sigh.

"So then what's the problem?" he asks, the heat basically radiating off of my head as he asks me once more 'what's the problem with no shirt.'

"god its because I find you hot, and I can't stare at you with everyone around including my sister who is dating your brother. It's just weird." I say smacking him out of the way of the dishwasher continuing to place the rinsed dishes in there.

"you find me hot?" he says "well thats not the only thing, but yes you're good looking." I say "and if that whole no shirt thing was to get a rise out of my, I will torture you till deaths end." glaring at him as he steps back kind of frightened by what I just said "jesus christ y/n, no it wasn't" he chuckles.

"I know it was, you little liar." narrowing my eyes at him, closing the dishwasher. "now can you start this thing, im young but dishwashers are confusing." I say rubbing the sweat off my forehead point to the dishwasher and he scoffs "you find me hot" he says under his breath, starting the dishwasher cycle.

"are you going to put that shirt on now?" I ask him and he nods "pft no. I like to know your eyes are on me and not any other man. Makes me special." he winks walking out of the room.

God I just can't shake him, shirt or not.

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

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