#and then i leave work EARLY no less bc he wanted to see me

[brilliant-soul]

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[neowinestainedress]

between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through. 

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you’ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you. 

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open.  You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement. 

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed. 

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you’re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face. 

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small. 

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.  

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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[pomegranatesandtangerines]

based off this post

how I think (some of) the Dungeon Meshi characters would interact with an isekai-ed reader who's hyperfixation is dungeon meshi

includes: Laios, Falin, Kabru, and Toshiro (Shuro)

Laios

im imaging reader meeting him when he was a child

a little after Falin was born and after he was given the dungeon gourmet guide

reader actively seeking him out but kinda starts freaking out when they actually see him

reader decides to go with the approach being interested in his book

Laios was suspicious at first ( the book is one of the main reasons he got bullied )

but after some time and patience he got comfortable with you

I feel that Laios would be very attached to reader

like someone besides his sister who gets him, listens to him, communicates with him, etc.

listen as someone who is very hyperfixated on dungeon meshi at the moment I would be so invested in learning about monsters

and Laios is more then happy to talk about it for hours

reader making a point to support his dream of exploring the dungeons bc his parents are dicks

he wouldn't really be weirded out by reader seems to know so much about him, maybe early on but over time I feel he would just be glad to have someone like that by his side

low-key though,,, I think there would be a small small part of him that is kinda jealous over how reader seems to just,, get some people

Falin

I see reader being her number one hype-person as a child

reader would also beg her to teach them some magic

I think that Falin and reader would meet through Laios

Falin while she is outcasted from her home town, is still a litter more sociable then her brother

but what had her truly open up was not only the readers support of her magical talent but also the readers interest in learning about how biology works in this world

she also info dumps a ton

you know how she kept bringing Marcille things cause she wanted to eat them with her

she would 100% do that with reader,,, and the amount would increase when Laios leaves

Kabru

he would be veryyy fascinated by the reader

his hyperfixation is people. studying them, their anatomy, psychology, how they tick

he would absolutely notice how reader picks up on things, knows things about some people without even having met them, predict events

to put it simply he wants to study reader under a microscope but is also extremely suspicious of them

he's also gonna pull out all the stops to try charm his way into understanding reader

his distrust sky rockets the first time they lock eyes, he can see it in his eyes, this look of understanding the deepest parts of him

he does not like it

it takes a long ass time for him trust them and genuinely open up again

reader making a point to ask things that will make him want to info dump

"hey did you notice how x was acting today" or "did you hear that x and y got together? do you think they'll make it?"

gossip buddies

Toshiro

ALRIGHT LET ME START BY SAYING THIS, HE IS WAYYYY TOO MISCHARACTERIZED IN THIS FANDOM

and reader would be all too aware of this as well

he is heavily implied to have a hyperfixation on bugs, and had to at a young age become a master at masking and picking up on social norms

but anyways-

he would think reader is weird, mostly bc they would remind him of laios

slowly but surely I feel he would feel more comfortable

another case of the way to his heart is through the info dump

maybe walking back from a little adventure and noticing a beetle and showing him

now hes not gonna be as outwardly as excited as Laios

but it is slightly noticeable that he is interested and excited

reader offers to give it to him and asks him some questions

less info dumping and more info sprinkling but still he does like to talk about it

I think he would appreciate how they seem to pick up on his smaller details, maybe not a perfectly but still

[ryescapades]

can i request narumi x gojo like reader (like extremely overpowered and yk gojo stuff 😝) because ur dazai fics are just mwah! could they be and captain and they're vc is like suguru :>

thank you !!!!

limitless | kaiju no. 8

characters: narumi gen x gn gojo!reader

contents: sniper!reader, attempt at humor, fluff, some OCs, a lot of made up plots bcs this fic wouldn't exist otherwise (feels like i was world building ngl), reader's division number is not mentioned, narumi appears like in the second half of this, hint of rivals(?) + idiots to lovers

a/n: i hope i did your req justice, tqsm nonnie! lmk if you're satisfied with this or not (bcs im kinda not) almost made reader and their vc become a doomed yaoi couple just like satosugu 2k wc

"ehhh, another mission?"

your vice-captain, akira rolls her eyes at your grumble. "yes, another mission, captain. the higher-ups have requested for us to be there as soon as we possibly can, for the location is said to be in an uptown city of tokyo, a few hours from our base, so we ought to dispatch early," she explains.

"blegh, i bet the old man shinomiya is laughing at me right about now. we literally just returned from a mission like two days ago, akira! he sure loves working us to the bone!" you complain as your hand continues to work, cleaning the glass lens of your sniper rifle's scope.

akira throws a flat look. "maybe because we're the only unit in the defense force that specializes in kaiju intelligence? dummy," she says pointedly, causing you to wave her off. "nah, semantics."

she sighs, shaking her head. "in any case, we need to get ready now. we have to be on the move in about half an hour," your vice-captain's words go into one ear and out the other as your mind drifts away, thinking of how you can possibly sneak away to buy some nice treats while in tokyo.

hm, preferably those ringo apple-custard pies... your mouth waters at the thought.

less than five hours later, you find yourself strutting in the hallways of the ariake base, with akira following close behind.

"how many times do i have to remind you to tell me first if you wanted to make a detour mid-way," akira pinches the bridge of her nose, and you pout slightly. "i didn't even take that long, mind you!" you argue, though the way you dust off the sweet pastry crumbs off your lips doesn't really give the impression that you sound apologetic at all about it.

"captain, you keep forgetting that we have a meeting to get to. you should try to be more considerate towards others' time, you know?" she chastises, making you shrug dismissively. "you're too uptight about everything, akira. loosen up,"

already used to your petty remarks, akira crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at you. "what was that? you wanna take this outside, y/n?" the way she drags the syllables of your name daringly has you smirking, eyes glinting dangerously as you flex your hands. "oh yeah? and what if i say yes?"

what both of you don't realize is that you've walked far enough to reach general shinomiya's office, the sound of the double doors opening snapping off the tense rope that connects your challenging gazes together.

the two of you straighten up awkwardly, whistling a mindless tune and fixing your uniform respectively to pretend like you weren't about to start a scuffle just a second ago.

hasegawa, the one who had opened the doors raises an eyebrow curiously when he sees you and your vice-captain. "seems like they're already here, general shinomiya." he announces over his shoulder before giving a respective nod and taking his leave.

as you enter the office, general shinomiya gives you a long, pointed look. "you're late." your nose scrunches at the comment, "only by fifteen minutes. chill out, old man."

"what they mean to say is—" akira immediately speaks up, frustrated at your lack of manners, but shinomiya isao raises a hand with a shake of his head to interject. "never mind that. we have more pressing matters at hand,"

as he drones on and on about the details of the mission, you're barely listening to any of them when one particular statement catches your attention.

"do your surveillance for at least two days before you clean up and come back to report. i'll send in narumi as well for some extra hands."

like a puppy hearing the sound of kibble food being poured in its bowl, your head perks up in interest.

seems like this mission won't end up being a bore, after all.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"akira... i'm bored,"

you can almost hear your second-in-command's teeth gritting against each other. "that's the sixth time you've said that, captain." she says, her voice crackling through your earpiece. "wait, really? maybe i should say it another time—"

"please, don't." she interrupts with a huff. "you don't know how many nights i've spent wondering how your impatient ass got this job,"

you're about to counter when a new voice chimes in through the comms, "they're good at this job, that's why." a smile grows on your face at the statement. "ren, of course! this is why you're everyone's favorite," you cheekily say.

your operations leader snickers at the quiet but still audible vomiting noises akira is making. "i'm flattered, captain. but i do agree with vice-captain akira. given how our division is all about stealth and patience, it is quite the surprise someone like you sits at the top," ren muses.

you click your tongue, the small 'tch' sound only providing more amusement for your two subordinates. "you deserve a headlock for that, ren."

be that as it may, you are indeed good at your job. appointed as the captain of a special intelligence unit for the defense force, your division is tasked to undertake any job that requires kaiju surveillance, where you discreetly observe and study the behaviors of these monsters, especially the new species before subjugating them once your task is completed.

where do you think all those official kaiju encyclopedia books and websites get their information from?

your missions are all basically just field trips, to be frank. you command officers who are specifically trained in stealth and espionage, with your sharp sniping skills second to none in the defense force.

your beloved vice-captain, the talented officer that she is, unluckily holds the job of patrolling the perimeter and taking care of any kaiju that happens to stumble upon where your sniping port is set up. can't have the sniper getting jumped now, can we?

pulling your eyes away from the scope, you mindlessly tap away on the side of your sniper gun. "anyways, how's captain narumi doing?" you ask.

the division has very few recruits every year, due to the fact that not everyone can master the perfect form of stealth and spying when it comes to such untamed creatures. with the unit being the only unique one, your officers are often dispatched at various locations at the same time.

thus, the subjugation after the observation is usually carried out with the help of other divisions. and that's where narumi comes in.

or rather, he actually does come in. like, legit.

"worried about me?" the man himself steps into the empty room of the desolated building you're currently positioned at, his bayonet held close to his side. your brows quirk in amusement at the question, "yes, actually. i was worried your... extravagant method of killing kaiju is going to get us spotted sometime soon,"

narumi feels his blood thrums in his ears. he doesn't know what it is about you, but every time the two of you interact, he just gets frustrated and bothered. how are you so... infuriating?

"excuse me? i know perfectly well how you handle your operations, thank you very much!" he exclaims.

"oh? is that so, akira?" you inquire into your earpiece, wanting to poke fun at the first division captain further. he tenses slightly as he's reminded of his recent kills.

a big tease just as you are, akira hums, "well, i certainly heard him gloating with the other officers after his first kill earlier. he was probably doing his usual egosurfing after that... and the second kill was obscenely loud too. and then there's the—"

"okay, i think they get it now, vice-captain." narumi cuts her off in a snap, crimson hues dusting his cheeks. you smirk, about to make another retort when ren's voice intervenes you.

"emergency, captain! there's a kaiju about less than two kilometers away from the town!" your pupils flare in alarm just as akira voices out her surprise, "wait, what? there shouldn't be any of them so close to the human settlement. is it a stray?"

without focusing on ren and akira's discussion, you sling your sniper over your shoulder and head out of the building, "i'm going after it," you announce.

as you walk past narumi, he grabs your arm to stop you. electric sparks jolt underneath the material of your suits and into your skin, though neither of you seems bothered enough to acknowledge it. "there could be more than just that one. i'm coming with you," he insists, unaware that he's leaning into your space to get his point across.

what is it with him and needing to be closer to you? narumi can never figure out the answer to that even if he was aware of it in the first place.

you didn't expect him to suddenly be all up in your face like that, so your hand automatically shoots out towards him, a palm splaying over his chest to hold him back. realizing how weirdly intimate the touch is, you move to pull away but your hand unconsciously lingers, dragging itself down the metal chestplate of his suit before finally retreating in a matter of seconds.

the loss of contact nearly burns you from the inside out, and you hate admitting that it's not in a bad way. not at all, not ever. something about narumi gen just flares you up deliciously, and you're more than happy and willing to crash into this man's blazing inferno.

perhaps you're just as hopeless as he is in that regard.

with a shrug, you throw a sanguine grin at him over your shoulder, "even if you weren't here, narumi, i can handle them just fine. this is my forte, and i'm the strongest one here." shivers run down the back of his spine, the knowing glimmer in your eyes almost making him visibly and audibly swallow.

he doesn't doubt that sentiment. not at all.

narumi knows how strong and skilled you are. if ashiro mina is known with her extremely explosive power, you're known with your hawk's eye trait. you're good at predicting just exactly where the kaiju's core is supposed to be, courtesy of the years of meticulously studying the monsters.

'how am i different to ashiro? hm, let's see... to put it simply, ashiro is the type to spam her high-damaged gun. like a reaaally offensive dps, you see. while i prefer to go with that one shot one kill style,' you'd often say. as a chronic gamer himself, he understood that crystal clear.

as the two of you exit the building and make a beeline towards the direction of the town, a few kaiju that you had surveyed just a few minutes ago turn their heads in attention when they hear your rapid footsteps.

your annoyance rises when they start advancing towards you, all feral eyed and inhumane. "sorry but i really don't have time to waste on small fries like you," you mutter as you take out your handgun.

the next thing narumi knows, their cores are precisely struck with your bullets, including the kaiju whose humongous tail almost swiped at you two from your common blind spot, one which he could've taken out. with his RT-0001 retina, he was less than one second away from handling it!

"oh, would you look at that! i saved your ass, narumi! ain’t i just the best?" you boast, causing his imaginative feathers to ruffle. the respond he's about to give doesn't get to come out, as you manage to irritate him even more.

"by the way, don't you think you should slip in some more trainings everyday? you play enough games as it is. at this rate, you're gonna get weaker than me, you know?" you remark before swiftly skipping away, your tongue sticking out in jest and leaving narumi to deal with his own agitation.

you're literally a menace in narumi's eyes, but his curiosity is boundless. as he moves to follow after your tracks, he keeps asking himself why he just cannot seem to stop wanting to get know you more.

nah i'd win, *dies immediately after*

ps i love when gojo made that digimon ref in s2 he's such a nerd pls. also there's like one hidden ow2 ref in there somewhere. like using pharah and widowmaker in regards to the difference between ashiro and reader

taglist: @maruflix @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[silkscream]

bullfight of love (part 2)

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff, pining, car sex, oral sex, fingering

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: sorry for the lack of proofreading also i feel like the references r annoying. just ignore them bc in this fic both of them are annoying <3

PART ONE

Choso does not call you. 

He does text you, occasionally, to talk about work and movies. Sometimes books and music, swapping recommendations. 

You notice that he reads at the register when the store’s empty. As the weeks pass, he runs through paperbacks like lightning. 90s manga, Ryu Murakami novels. He had a pensive reading face, dipping between serene and morose depending on the page. It was oddly fascinating. Brows knitted, nose twitching in a way that reflected light on his scar tissue.

He never says much. Barely greets you when he clocks in, opting for something of a nod and a noncommittal noise. He always smells like tobacco and incense.

You try to outdo each other when it comes to putting something on the big screen. Maki let you put on any tape you wanted as long as it wasn’t too graphic, which was the one rule the two of you ignored considering how often there were afternoon dry spells. 

You’d put Japanese New Wave, New Hollywood. 90s American trash when Choso could score edibles. He’d never tell you where he got them, always tight-lipped about sources. It annoyed you to no end.

“Nice shirt,” he drawls.

“Huh?” You look up from your stack to see Choso staring at you, gesturing to your chest. 

“Your shirt.” 

You look down at your oversized Deftones tee.

“You’re not gonna ask me to name five of their songs, are you?” 

He shakes his head, laughing. The fluorescents make his irises reflect hints of violet, you notice. He’s less dead-eyed today, which is saying something.

“Which album’s your favorite?” he asks.

“Around the Fur.”

“Basic.”

You frown, reaching over to press the price tagger against his chest. You pull the trigger. He laughs again, looking down.

“I’m only worth ten dollars?”

“Yes.”

He scoffs and returns to the register when he sees a girl waiting with a copy of Clueless. You watch as she twirls a braid around her finger, stumbling over her words as she tries (and fails) to make small talk with Choso. He’s stone-faced again as always – nothing like the feigned sneers shot at you – the poor girl.

You notice him stealing glances at you while you continue to stock. There’s a perpetual hint of a tiny smirk as he continues to be the cashier for the night. You smile at him and wrinkle your nose when you look his way and find him staring at you, goading your reaction on whatever stack of DVDs his customer has in hand.

The two of you decide to close out for the night an hour early. It’s dead in the store. While you vacuum, your ears perk up to footsteps on the main floor. You see a teenage boy with pinkish hair and bright eyes.

“Closing shop, kid,” you say. “And I’m not in the mood for a stray.”

“I’m looking for my brother!” he beams, blatantly ignoring your crabbiness.

You pinch your brows together. Did he mean Choso? The two looked nothing alike and sure as hell didn’t share a personality.

“You mean —”

“Yuuji? I thought I told you I’d meet you at the arcade.”

You raise a brow at Choso appearing from the back room door but decide to leave him and his… brother to their own devices. You watch them from the corner of your eye, noticing that despite Yuuji’s boyish face, they’re slightly similar in build. He must be adopted or fostered, you think. Played the part of a little brother like a sitcom favorite from how Choso looked at him.

“You’re not coming with me, then?”

“Nah. Fushiguro and I were gonna see Human Earthworm 5 but then he told me hasn’t seen the first four! So I came by to pick them up.”

“It’s a good thing you came before we closed,” Choso rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you close in like an hour?”

“Finishing up early. Her idea.”

You scoff under your breath. There’s a pause.

“You weren’t exaggerating, man,” Yuuji mutters, barely hiding his voice. “She’s really pretty.”

“Dude.” 

You almost laugh. Your smirk fades when you realize that your heart is beating a bit faster.  Liking Maki back then was stupid enough – a terrible cliche to fantasize about. Storage room fucking, sneaking around on the clock. How tacky. And you already checked off one of those fantasies.

The drama wasn’t worth it. It’s absurd to know that you had done that with Choso. It was why you avoided the back room at all costs. After you two had fucked, neither of you spoke of it again.

“Sorry,” Yuuji says, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll see you later, man!”

“Onii-chan,” Choso reminds him.

“Onii-chan.”

“Do you mind if I take the car?” 

“What– then how am I supposed to get home–”

“Pleaaaaase, Onii-chan? Fushiguro lives far from the bus stop!”

Choso grumbles as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket. Yuuji nearly vibrates from excitement as he takes them.

You wait until he leaves to flash a grin. Choso makes eye contact with you and groans.

“Don’t.”

“Onii-chan, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Your grin only widens. 

“He’s cute. Looks nothing like you, though.”

“We’re, uh, half-brothers,” Choso mutters. “And he’s off-limits.”

“Wasn’t interested,” you scoff. “He’s gotta be in high school, right?”

“And you’re not?” Choso raises a brow. 

He laughs at your expression immediately souring and you hate that the sound makes your heart flutter. 

“I’m kidding,” he snorts. “I’d be in jail if that was the case.”

You blush, remembering the last time you were intimate. You huff.

“You know Fushiguro? That’s Toji’s son.”

“Oh shit, really? I never met the kid’s family, I guess.”

You notice Choso checking out a copy of The Ring.

“Is that what you’re getting up to on a Friday night?” 

“Yup. I haven’t gotten around to seeing it yet.”

“Dude, seriously? S’a classic. One of my favorites.”

“You’re welcome to join,” he shrugs. It’s nonchalant. Given his brother's previous teasing, you’d think there would be an air of eagerness around him. The fact that there isn’t only makes your stomach lurch.

“Maybe,” you mumble. “Got some errands to run.”

“It’s cool.” He hikes up the messenger bag he brings to work over his shoulder. It’s right then that you notice how broad he is. Built well, almost like an athlete. Collarbones like a Greek god and a face as pretty as the J-pop idols you used to like. You think back to your past tryst, how his muscles rippled in the dingy office lighting. The sweat on his brow when he moaned.

He leans in to poke your arm to grab your attention.

“Huh?”

“I said, are you ready to lock up?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you mutter. You grab your bag and follow him out. He helps you drag the security gate down. 

“Text me if you change your mind.”

“Yeah. For sure.”

–

You do not change your mind.

Not yet, anyway. You sip a milkshake in the food court, people-watching to pass the time. You couldn’t think about being alone with Choso right now. 

It takes you a bit to muster up the energy to leave. For some reason, you feel exhausted despite closing early. Your shifts were relatively easy, and it helped that being on shift with Choso was usually entertaining. The banter never got old. 

Fuck, you needed to shake the thought of him out of your head. The sex was a one-time thing. His nonchalance made you sure of that.

When you make your way to your car, you see him. He balances a cigarette between his lips as he laughs, surrounded by the usual mall rats you see on nights like these. Some of them you had recognized from high school. They were drop-out skaters who liked to flirt with you sometimes, their toothy grins stained yellow and their tiny waists drowning in cargo pants.

You watch one of the girls flirt with Choso. She’s blonde and thin, and you wonder if she’s his type. Despite the clashing of styles, they look good together. You pretend it doesn’t make you bitter. There’s no reason for the sight to make you bitter. You shouldn’t be staring at him at all — you’re supposed to be walking to your fucking car.

It starts to drizzle, but the crowd doesn’t move. You watch them and convince yourself that maybe he’s isn’t that attractive. But the cigarette in between his lips looks enticing. He probably tastes like tobacco. Mint and eucalyptus like the way he smells. You briefly remember the kisses you shared in the backroom and your stomach clenches with want.

“You,” he beckons to you. You freeze. “Thought you left already.”

You try to ignore all the eyes on you. Your tunnel vision only focuses on him, anyway. 

“Told you I had, uh, errands.”

“Right.”

“Uh-huh,” you clear your throat. “Can I bum a cig?”

He reaches into his pocket for a pack of red Marlboros, handing you one and waiting until it’s between your lips to light it for you. You chuckle lightly when you see it’s a white lighter.

“What?” he grins. 

“You don’t know about the white lighter thing? So many members of the 27 club had a white lighter on them when they died.”

“Like who?”

“Hendrix, Cobain, Morrison…”

“Then it’s an American thing,” he laughs. “I’ll survive.”

“I hope you do.”

He smiles back at you sheepishly, fixing his hair with his hands. He’s almost bashful for a second, but he’s too good at acting casual for you to catch him completely off-guard. 

Before he can respond, a hug of thunder booms above you. Distracted by the frenzy of everyone scrambling to head out, grumbling about the looming storm.

“Do you want a ride?” you blurt out.

He looks at you carefully, then cracks a smile. “Sure.”

___

Much to your annoyance, Choso is a little high, meaning he has no problem turning the dial on your car radio the whole time he’s in the car.

“You’re picky,” you mutter.

“I have taste,” Choso murmurs. “The radio does not.”

“I have like, a billion CDs in the dashboard. Go crazy.”

He smirks, amused, opening the drawer to flip through the albums you have in a thick CD wallet. They’re mostly your mothers – 90s Shibuya-kei and some early city pop you grew up on, along with a fair collection of Western music you’ve acquired over the years. To your surprise, he picks a Faye Wong CD.

“Good choice,” you mutter. He hums in response.

The ride to his house is quiet despite the album. You almost regret your offer, embarrassed about the slight panic you feel as the rain hits harder than expected. You never fucking liked driving anyway – it was why you wanted to move closer to the subway.

The only sounds in the car are Faye Wong’s haunting vocals and the pitter-patter of the rain. Choso glances at you, his expression stoic and unreadable as he watches you drive, but there’s a hint of something else in his eyes. A mix of anticipation and something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. After a few minutes of driving, Choso finally speaks up, his voice low and almost hesitant. 

“Turn at the next exit—” he mutters, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

“I know,” you chuckle.

“Choso pauses for a moment, a hint of mild surprise on his face. He had expected you to ask for directions, but you seem to know where you’re going without further instructions. He lets out a low scoff, his expression relaxing slightly. 

“You know my neighborhood?” he mutters, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Stalking me, boss?”

“I read your application, dumbass. Plus, I used to babysit around here.”

“Oh. Which family? I might know them.”

“The Fushiguros, actually. Toji used to live around here.”

“You used to babysit Megumi?” Choso asks in surprise.

“Mhm. I thought I heard your brother talking about him in the store.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “They’re best friends. You used to babysit him, huh?”

You hum. “Mhm. Cute kid. Quiet.”

“Still quiet. Though Yuji never shuts up about him.”

“It’s nice that he has friends. Toji used to say that I was the only one Megumi was never nice to,” you chuckle.

“Kid’s got good taste, then,” Choso mutters.

He points you towards his street. The closer you get to his neighborhood, the more residential it gets, and it’s oddly barren. Quiet and suburban, with no one other cars passing you.

As you take a turn, the rain gets even heavier, obscuring your view. The windshield wipers fight against the torrential downpour as the tires slide to the right.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath. You clutch the steering wheel tightly with paling knuckles. Your piece of shit car could barely handle snow, but it survived in the rain, at least. Right now, you aren’t so sure. The car seems to skid into something that makes one of the tires pop.

“Shit," Choso mutters, gripping the door handle. "You okay?"

You nod, trying to slow your breathing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...fuck."

The car lurches to a stop at the side of the road. You turn off the ignition with shaky hands and sit back, exhaling slowly.

"Looks like we popped a tire," Choso says, peering out the window. "And this rain isn't letting up."

You groan, letting your head fall back against the headrest. "Great. Just great."

“Do you have a spare?”

“No,” you moan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Hey, it's alright," Choso says, his voice softer than you've ever heard it. "Let’s wait out the storm here. I can call my brother.”

He reaches over and gently pries one of your hands off the wheel, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The unexpected touch makes your breath hitch.

You know he's right, but the thought of being trapped in the car with him makes your stomach flutter nervously. Still, you nod in agreement and watch as he calls Yuji. The phone goes to voicemail immediately, to both of your dismay. He shoots a couple of texts and locks his phone in a huff.

An awkward silence falls between you as the rain pounds against the roof of the car. You're hyper-aware of Choso's presence beside you, the warmth of his hand on yours moments ago still lingering on your skin.

The silence stretches on, broken only by the rhythmic drumming of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. You steal a glance at Choso, catching him staring out the window with a furrowed brow. His usually composed demeanor seems slightly shaken.

"Some road trip this turned out to be," you joke, attempting to break the tension.

Choso turns to you, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Not quite the adventure we had in mind, huh?"

You can't help but chuckle. "Definitely not. Though I suppose being stranded in a storm is pretty adventurous."

"True," he agrees, his smile widening. "Though I'd prefer less life-threatening adventures in the future."

The casual mention of a "future" makes your heart skip a beat. You try to push the feeling aside, reminding yourself that he probably didn't mean anything by it.

Suddenly, a crack of lightning illuminates the sky, followed immediately by a deafening clap of thunder. You jump, inadvertently grabbing Choso's arm.

"Sorry," you mumble, quickly letting go and feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

"It's okay," he says softly, his voice barely audible over the rain. "I don't mind."

The rain continues to pour, creating a hypnotic rhythm on the roof of the car. You find yourself relaxing slightly, the initial panic of the situation fading into a strange sense of calm. Choso's presence beside you is oddly comforting.

"You know," Choso begins, his voice low and thoughtful, "I used to be terrified of thunderstorms when I was a kid."

You turn to look at him, surprised by this sudden admission. His eyes are fixed on the raindrops racing down the windshield, a faraway look in them.

"Really?" you ask softly, encouraging him to continue.

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. My mom... she used to tell me that the thunder was just the sky's way of singing. Said the lightning was its dance moves."

There's a tenderness in his voice that you've never heard before. It makes your heart ache in a way you can't quite explain.

"That's… cute," you murmur. "Did it help?"

Choso chuckles, the sound warm and rich. "Not really. But it made me feel less alone, you know? Like the sky was putting on a show for me or something.”

“Toji’s kids used to be scared of thunderstorms too. I used to make blanket forts with Megumi and his sister and put on movies to distract them.”

“What movies?” Choso grins. “Chucky?”

You snort. “No, asshole. Kids’ movies. I’m not evil.”

“Sure, you’re not,” he says teasingly.

“Do I seem evil?”

“No. But you’re a bit… uh…" Choso trails off.

“A bit what?” You furrow your brows.

“A bit... intense sometimes," Choso finishes, his eyes flickering to yours. "In a good way, I mean."

You raise an eyebrow. "Intense?"

He shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Yeah. You've got this... energy about you. Like you're always thinking about ten steps ahead of everyone else. You’re intriguing."

You're not sure how to respond to that. Part of you wants to be flattered, but another part feels oddly exposed.

"Intriguing, huh?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "Is that why you've been watching me at work?"

Choso's eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I... didn't think you noticed."

"I notice a lot of things," you say, leaning in slightly. "Like how you always smell like cigarettes and incense. Or how you bite your lip when you're concentrating on something."

“You've been watching me too, then."

You smile, feeling a surge of boldness. "Maybe I have."

Choso hums, his eyes linger on your mouth for a beat longer than you expect.

“I can never tell what you’re thinking when you look at me,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Choso's eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a hint of amusement in them. "Maybe that's the point," he says softly.

You feel a shiver run down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold rain outside. The air between you feels charged, like the electricity crackling in the storm clouds above.

"And what is the point, exactly?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Choso leans in closer, his breath warm on your cheek. "To keep you guessing," he murmurs. "To make you wonder."

Your heart is pounding in your chest now, so loud you're sure he must be able to hear it. 

"Wonder about what?" you breathe.

You turn to look at him and your breath catches in your throat. Even in the dim light, his features are striking. His long eyelashes frame his sharp eyes, and a few strands of damp hair stick to his forehead. You have a sudden, overwhelming urge to brush them away.

Choso's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. You're acutely aware of how close you are, the confined space of the car suddenly feeling much smaller. His gaze flickers to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes.

Your heart races as you realize he hasn't moved away. If anything, he seems to be leaning closer. You swallow hard, trying to find your voice.

"Um—"

Another flash of lightning cuts you off, but this time you don't jump. You're too entranced by the way it illuminates Choso's face, casting shadows that accentuate his jawline and the curve of his lips.

He reaches out, his hand hovering near your face for a moment before he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is feather-light, but it sends shivers down your spine.

"You were saying?" he prompts, his voice low and husky.

Your heart beats fast. What the fuck were you even going to say?

Do you want to watch a movie sometime? Do you think about that night as much as I do?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "I was just thinking...mabout that night in the store. Do you ever think about it?"

Choso's eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't pull away. "Yeah," he admits softly. "More than I probably should."

His honesty catches you off guard. You expected deflection or maybe even denial. "Really?"

He nods, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not every day you get caught jerking off by your hot coworker who then proceeds to fuck you senseless."

You can't help but laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Fair point."

"What about you?" he asks, his gaze intense. "Do you think about it?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. The air between you feels charged, electric.

Choso shifts slightly, angling his body towards you. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you murmur.

"Why did you do it? Was it just… I don't know, pity? Horniness? Boredom?"

You're taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. It occurs to you that maybe he's been dwelling on this as much as you have.

“I don’t know. Kind of thought it’d be funny.”

“You thought it’d be funny?”

“What? It was like a bad porn plot.”

“Wow, okay,” he scoffs. “I almost thought maybe you liked me or something.”

"I— I do,” you mumble. “I did it because I do. Because I… wanted you.”

Choso's eyes darken at your words. "And now?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

Your breath catches in your throat. "Now?"

He nods, leaning in closer. "Do you still want me?"

The air between you feels electric, charged with anticipation. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

"Yes," you whisper, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

There's a beat of silence, the only sound of the rain pounding against the car roof. You're acutely aware of how close you are to each other in the confined space of the car, the sound of rain creating a cocoon around you both. You look away from him shyly, which makes him touch your cheek to turn your face towards him.

“Do— do you—”

Choso cuts you off and closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that's both gentle and urgent. You respond immediately, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss. He groans into your mouth, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

His hands roam your body, reacquainting themselves with your curves. When he palms your breast through your shirt, you arch into his touch, breaking the kiss to gasp.

"Fuck," Choso mutters, his voice rough.

He leans in again, this time trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. When he reaches the sensitive spot just below your ear, you let out a soft moan. You feel him smile against your skin before he nips gently at the spot, soothing it with his tongue.

Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. You tug at the hem, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Choso pulls back, his eyes meeting yours as he quickly pulls his shirt over his head. The sight of his bare chest, adorned with intricate tattoos, makes your mouth go dry. You reach out, tracing the lines of ink with your fingertips.

He shudders at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opens them again, there's a fire in his gaze that makes heat pool in your belly.

"Your turn," he murmurs, his hands finding the hem of your shirt.

You lift your arms, allowing him to pull it off. His eyes roam over your exposed skin hungrily, and you feel a blush creep up your chest under his intense gaze.

“Jesus. I still can’t get over how hot you are.”

You roll your eyes before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, it’s all teeth and tongue. Messy. Choso tastes even better before, you think, but you don’t quite remember. You’ve been chasing that taste for weeks now and here he was – all tobacco and mint in your mouth.

He pulls you to the backseat, sets you down on the leather. Legs hiked up around his waist, your sneakers up on the window. He can feel his dick jump in his pants when he hears you mewl into his mouth like a kitten, his hand flicking the peak of your breast.

It’s a struggle for him to take off his jeans with how tight the backseat is. Your breath hitches when you feel his cock settle in between the crease of your bare thighs. It’s different, having him this close, bare skin touching. 

He sucks a mark on your collarbone that almost feels loving. You feel drunk from his touch, from his fingers toying with your clit. You need him embedded into your skin. Tattoo crush.

“Feel good, baby?” HIs voice is low, nearly purring.

You hum in satisfaction. “Need you in me.”

“You sure?” The expression on his face is genuine, tender. You respond with an incredulous look. He chuckles.

To spite you, he leans and kisses over the skin between of your breasts. Descending licks, tasting the salt of your skin until he’s curled up, pushing your thighs forward so he has enough room to put his face full in your cunt. You moan at the feeling of his tongue, hot and warm against you. 

His fingers split you open in tandem with his tongue fucking you. You wanted him deep, imprinted in you. You gasp as you come, his fingers reaching somewhere yours could never touch.

He kisses you messily, grinning into it.

“Tastes good.”

“Shut up.”

You want to jump his bones, make a home from his lap. But he’s so big, his hands grasping the silk of your thighs with intent. You groan when you feel his tip prodding you, slowly sinking until he bottoms out. Choso represses any noise from his mouth, biting his lip hard enough to bleed.

“Don’t do that,” you huff. “Wanna hear you.”

He sighs, gripping you tightly, warm-bellied. Tight in your cunt. It feels crazier to him now than before – the spontaneity had driven his lust the first time, but now, it was all built-up emotion. Weeks of yearning and playing it cool, his stomach collapsing in on itself whenever you even looked at him. 

And now, you’re moaning from him like you want him. You do want him. Choso has always found it easy to get laid, but with you, he felt like he was walking on eggshells. Like he could’ve fucked up at any moment, that the time in the back room was just a fluke. The look in your glassy ways say otherwise. 

His pace moves faster and your eyes roll back like he’s knocking the stars out of you. An angel falling. You can barely keep your eyes open and your mouth shut with the way he feels inside you, hitting every spot that has your whole body feel like it’s levitating. 

Choso’s fingers thread through your hair as he kisses you. He marvels at the softness of all of you – your mouth like melted wax, hair knotted in daisy chains underneath his fingertips. Precious.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah – feels so… shit—”

The desperation is getting to him from the way he ruts into you. Desire leaves his nerves on fire. The kisses you litter on his neck from below certainly don’t help. He’s weak to all of it – all of you. You moan loudly after a particularly hard thrust and he feels himself on the edge already.

You whimper. “Don’t slow down–”

“Gonna cum if I don’t,” Choso groans.

“I’m so close, please,” you beg. “Come with me—”

“Shit—”

“Choso, Choso, please—”

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and you nearly scream. He’s deeper — you feel him everywhere, up to your stomach, your heart. He pushes a palm lightly on top of your stomach and you can feel yourself ready to cry.

“I’m gonna – oh, fuck,” he gasps. 

“Me too,” you whimper.

He looks at you like he’s lovesick. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders as your eyes shut tightly, your mouth fallen open into an “O” as you mewl like something wounded. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, washing all over you. He groans as his thrusts gets sloppier, until you feel his warmth fill you.

He keeps rocking into you, nose in your neck as he rides out his high. Thunder booms above you.

Once he’s spent, he pulls out of you, fumbling with some napkins he pulls from the seat pocket to clean up the mess. There’s a buzzing – his forgotten phone is on the floor, lit up with Yuji’s name. He curses under his breath.

You look at him, amused, as he stares at the thing.

“Pick it up.” You nudge his stomach with your foot.

He huffs, but obeys. “Hey, man. What? I didn’t have… service. That’s why. Yeah, I��� uh, got a ride home and her tire blew out…”

You snicker as you pull your clothes back on, which earns you a glare. You watch him hang up and sigh. 

“Your brother coming to the rescue?” you ask.

“Yup.”

“What a good boy.”

He narrows his eyes at you, but doesn’t say anything else. He pulls his clothes on and sits beside you, examining the shadows on your face as you both listen to the rain.

“That was good,” you mumble.

He laughs dryly. “Yeah… it was.”

More seconds of silence. Choso clears his throat.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he blurts out.

You raise your brows and try not to laugh. “Aren’t we a little past that?”

“You know what I mean. Go on a date with me. Come over and watch The Ring with me.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to coax me into a round two?” you grin.

Choso studies you for a moment. Looks at you with a deadpan expression in his eyes. “I absolutely am trying to coax you into a round two.” A pause.

“But also, I want your company.”

Your face warms up with a smile. You feel overripe, sweet and slightly bruised. Wanting. Your lashes flutter at him.

“Deal.”

[upsidedownmvnson]

dungeons and douchebags | eddie munson

where eddie munson kills your dnd character out of spite & you end up in the hospital in the same day. eddie, of course, blames only himself.

full fic of this blurb :)

AN: i named the third guy keith bc he needed a name, and if his role was pre-established im SORRY but hes a mage. a lot of the dnd stuff im sure is wrong and doesnt work but let me live

also i love this so u should to

also also I KNOW ITS A SHITTY THING FOR A DM TO DO - thats the point

Eddie’s annoyed with you when you’re not on time for Hellfire.

You know he’s sensitive about starting on time, but still you were running late again, even though this time you promised it would be different, and you would even be early.

And Eddie had foolishly believed you again. It hurt especially, because even though you were just friends, Eddie was so painfully in love with you. All day every day, he was pining, yearning, longing. You were on his mind all the time, and you... you couldn't even bother to be on time for Hellfire.

When he begged you to be on time earlier in the day, he had made sure to mention that it would mean a lot to him if you were on time. And he thinks that if you love him back, you'll definitely care when he communicates something like that.

He knows he shouldn't let himself feel like this, but every Friday he's reminded that he's not special to you. He's not the one person you're always on time for. Eddie thinks, somehow, that if you're on time for Hellfire, well then maybe you like him too. It's silly, but it's what he does. It gets more painful as time goes on and you're still not there.

The mood slowly shifts to something tense as time ticks on. You’re always a couple minutes late but nearly an hour? Eddie is painfully frustrated, and his feelings are hurt. Eddie has overthught himself to a dramatic conclusion that you've decided you're above Hellfire.

While the party chats on totally unaware, barely even recognizing that they still haven't started, Eddie thinks you've looked in the mirror and recognized that you're better than them. That you can, and should, have everything and everyone you want. He thinks you'll want to be with a jock. Or maybe a cheerleader. He thinks you've decided not to love him.

In a fit of self pity and rage, he decides to leave your character behind, so the party left you alone, sleeping in a cave.

"Attention," Eddie says, "the sun is rising. It's time to pack your bags and move on."

Dustin looks confused, "where's y/n?"

"Who knows?" Eddie tries to look unamused to hide his pain, but it slips, and ends up just looking angry.

Eddie rolls a perception check for you to see if you wake up. He rolls an 18. And with your build you would've noticed the group leaving without you. Eddie is still think about you in the arms of a jock. "She fails." Eddie looks at the group with an evil grin. "You leave the camp unnoticed."

As the game goes on, Eddie feels crappy. He's never cheated like that before. Like, sure, he's changed a roll or two to make the plot better, or to not totally kill one of his players because some random NPC got a nat 20. That was his right as DM. But... leaving you like that was less than cool.

But even worse, when they return to the cave later, you're stuck in a bandit situation. Eddie really, truly, genuinely expected the party to save you. Except, one thing led to another, and you were stabbed through stomach, making you bleed out. Normally, this is where you'd roll your life saving throws.

It wasn't really supposed to play out like that. But he didn't expect the party to roll such terrible throws, all of them accidently leaving you defenseless. Eddie kinda feels bad, but you hurt him first.

What he doesn't expect is Steve Harrington bursting into the drama room, looking frenzied, just a few moments later. The party halts. The last thing happening in the game was the party finishing off the last bandit, and running to your aid. But now, they were all just staring at Steve. Eddie approached his friend, worried about the look in Steve’s eyes.

Steve stood up straight, and cleared his throat. Weakly he says, “something terrible happened.”

And then Steve tells them all about your car accident, and Eddie feels sick. His knees buckle, and Steve has to hold him up. He’s totally disoriented by this news. He feels his heartbeat pounding behind his eyes, and his ears ring loudly, barely registering the panicked talking going on around him

“They're alive,” Steve was shouting, but because people weren’t letting him talk, he had to keep shouting it over the hundred questions. They wouldn't be able to handle it. Not again. Not when Max still hasn't woken up. “Eddie? Can you hear me buddy?”

But Eddie was in shock. He was blaming himself. He killed you.

“Can you walk? I'll drive you,” Steve says, as Gareth searches Eddie's pockets for the keys to the van. “Dustin, get over here, help me get Eddie to the car.” Eddie overhears Jeff tell everyone to meet at the van.

As soon as they get moving, the adrenaline starts pumping through Eddie’s body. He was suddenly able to break free of his friends' aid and pick up his pace, and the three of them ran through the school and into the parking lot. The dim light Steve parked by was flickering, putting a weak spotlight on Eddie as he tugged the door handle on the passenger seat

“Let me unlock it,” Steve snapped, fumbling the keys in his hand. He dropped them, the pressure of Eddie’s stare was kinda terrifying. He got the door open and unlocked the others.

When they were in the car, Eddie was finally alert, if anything overaware.

“What the fuck is going on?” he snapped.

No one said anything. There was nothing they could say that would make Eddie feel better, or calm down. Steve sped out of the parking lot, blowing the stop sign. He really shouldn't have, given the whole reason you were in the hospital.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't happening. He was wrong. He was being petty and he was hurt because he thought you were being a dick but you were - he was gunna throw up - you were somewhere bleeding. While he was busy killing you, you were actually laying on the asphalt after a violent car crash. And he was thinking you're an asshole

“Their character died,” Eddie said, “I've killed them.”

“It's not gunna happen,” Steve said, gripping the steering wheel. It was a statement he couldn't back up.

At the hospital, Eddie barely waited for the car to stop before he was running inside, tripping over his own feet as he rushed to get to you. dustin was hot on his trail and steve was parking the car.

Eddie saw Nancy with Jonathan over by the nurse's station, and when Nancy saw him, she came hustling over, putting her hands on Eddie's arms. Dustin spoke quietly with Jonathan in the background.

“Relax,” she said, “please breath. They’re okay right now, they’re in surgery, and it's going really well, okay?”

“Wheeler?” Eddie asked, eyes filling with tears he had no control over.

“It has to be fine,” Nancy said, “sit with me.” Nancy Wheeler was not going to lose another friend today. Not again.

And with no other options he listened, following Nancy to an uncomfortable plastic chair that squeaked when he sat. Nancy held his hand over the stiff arm rests, but he didn't find any comfort. He didn't think he would until he was with you again.

Jonathan sat beside Nancy, giving her a sad smile and handing her a bitter coffee. He sat quietly, letting Nancy give Eddie her attention. Dustin sat on the other side of Eddie, also opting to stay quiet. What was anyone supposed to say?

Honestly, the only thing Eddie wanted to hear was your voice.

Nothing changed for the first two days. But on the third day, the only change was in Eddie. He went from sitting quietly by your side to scribbling stuff in a notebook like a crazy person. He would also dip out to go use a library computer, or "check on some things," as he explained to Nancy.

Her and Steve were mutually concerned about Eddie's state. He was constantly babbling about saving you, and how he's figured it out they just have to succeed.

Everyone else got a chance to be worried when they got a call Tuesday saying there was a mandatory Hellfire meeting and anyone not in attendance would be left behind, and unwelcome for the rest of the campaign. He couldn't risk a single missing member. Not with the stakes...

Tuesday evening, Gareth, Jeff, and Keith are the first to arrive. They are curious as to what the hell their bandmate had cooked up, but they were more worried than excited. Eddie hadn't exactly been himself the last couple of days.

They don't expect a set up even more elaborate than usual. The lights are red and blue, making the room feel eerie, and small.

"Welcome to Hell," Eddie said, grinning and holding his arms open wide.

Gareth and Jeff exchanged a look, but were too nervous to speak. Eddie didn't want to explain the objective twice, so he waited for the rest of the party to arrive before he said anything, but the look in his eye feels sinister. His friends suddenly realized how truly fucked Eddie would be if anything happened to you.... like... for keeps.

When the rest of the party is there, they look to Eddie expectantly, but he just continues to smile like a maniac and tells everyone to take their seats. Dustin is confused to see Steve Harrington sneak into the room and lean against the wall.

"I cheated," he says when he has the attention of the flock, "y/n didn't fail the perception check, and therefore their death wasn't fair. However, death is death. So we're going to have to bring them back."

Dustin notices that Steve Harrington's presence is not explained.

Nancy sits at your bedside like she has for the better part of the last four days. She holds a book in one hand, and the other rests casually beside you, near your hand. She looks at you, and then her hand. She gets a supernatural chill.

She puts her book down, and speaks your name quietly, looking for any sign of life from you. One more day of your glass features and she was going to crumble. Nancy shakes the bizarre feeling from her head, and pats your hand.

She shocked when you're ice cold to the touch. She recoils, pulling away fast. But after the initial shock fades, she touches you again. There was no way that was right, right? You were freezing. What the hell was that about? Nancy starts a search for a blanket to warm you up.

A mage freezes your body. The party scavenges for anything that can help and then leave the cave, your frozen body in tow. Another player can't make life saving throws for you, so they were thinking outside the box. They would take you deep, deep into an ancient necromancer's lair, and steal the resurrection stone from around his neck.

Nancy returns with a simply grey blanket, and a very friendly nurse. They had gotten to talking, and Nancy has simply explained how cold you had been, having not thought too much of it. The nurse, Sophie, had decided to come check it out too.

"Oh my gosh," Sophie says, feeling the ice cold skin. "Oh my gosh, she's like ice!"

And leaves Nancy feeling a little worried as she scurries out of the room. It was like she'd never seen anything like it. Nancy feels uneasy, and makes a quick phone call from your bedside phone. Jonathan picks up, and as soon as he hears the concern in her voice, he's on the way.

Nancy hangs up, picks the phone back up, and calls Steve. He picks up on the first ring.

"Something is like... actually happening over here," she whispers, shocked to even be saying it.

"No shot," he says, nearly laughing at the idea. He whispers the next part so the group doesn't hear anything, "I thought we agreed Eddie was just crazy, and this whole 'saving her character will save her' was just to show him that he didn't cause all this."

"I know we did," she said, "but y/n is cold as ice."

Eddie's voice booms as he narrates the perilous journey. After trap rooms, fighting devil dogs, two gargoyles, and a Molydeus that nearly killed Mike. They had made it into the inner sanctum, but had all failed to roll perception upon entering, and set off a fire trap. One that melted the spell on you, leaving you warm enough to die. "Hurry!" Dustin shouted, "engage the necromancer! Hit 'em with everything we got."

Nancy is already back into her book, Jonathan sitting on the floor beside her, leaning his head against the armrest, while she dangles a dainty arm over his shoulder, letting it lay relaxed on his chest. A single beep draws her attention. She notices something different, but she can't say what. Your cheeks are rosy.

Nancy brings her hand off of Jonathan, drawing his attention too. She puts a cool hand against your forehead, and is again shocked by how you feel. You're burning up. You're fucking hot. Like boiling. Nancy runs to find Sophie again.

The turn is Keith's, his mage more powerful than the others, but instead turns his attention to your character. "I cast flesh to stone on y/n!" the mage shouts. "She'll die if she stays like this." "Roll for it!" "18!" "Pass!" Your body is frozen again, this time encased in stone. Another stall, and Eddie knows the party is running out of time.

"You have to feel her head," Nancy says, speed walking with the bubbly nurse hot on her trail. Sophie complies, and gasps.

"It's not possible," she says quietly, "I'm getting the doctor. There's something strange about your friend."

Nancy looks down at you, and jumps out of her skin when the machines start beeping wildly. All of them making different noises, all of them loud. Sophie rushes back in, with more staff behind her. Nancy and Jonathan are ushered out of the room by a woman who explains that you're in a code blue, which means they have to resuscitate you.

Nancy looks around the white hallway. She's overwhelmed and underpaid.

"Stay here," she tells her boyfriend. "This is crazy!"

But she runs off before she explains anything else. She's after a phone, which she finds with no trouble. She fishes a quarter out of her pocket, and uses it to call Steve again. He picks up as fast as last time, desperate for something other than watching dnd.

"Whatever they're doing, tell them to hurry up!" she's shouting, drawing the attention of patients and staff around her. "Something's happening! She's not breathing!"

The necromancer stands injured. The party cornering him, making him cower. He trembles, and begs for his life. He explains that the party came to his home, killed his people, and now wish to rip off the very thing that keeps him alive. "I stab him through the heart, and I take the necklace." Dustin says. As he looks at Steve, he thinks he understands what's going on. "Roll." "For what?" "Dexterity." Dustin rolls his die. The table is silent. The little D20 lands. the group erupts when they see the Nat 20 he rolled, effectively grabbing the necklace and throwing it around your neck from a metre away like horseshoe. As it lands on you, the ground shifts under the party's feet. Everyone stares in silence, both in the campaign and real life. Your character opens her eyes, coughs, and rises.

The party roars to life at the table, cheering at a job well done and slamming hands on the table in excitement. But the cheers are short lived, silence coats the room but this one is different. It's serious, eery. They can see that Steve looks worried, and he's trying to get Nancy to answer him, but he's getting nothing. looking at Steve expectantly. Apparently, everyone had figured out what the plan was. They all knew they were trying to wake you up. Steve says nothing. Just hangs up the phone, looking up with a disappointed frown.

"The line went dead."

Steve is once again driving Eddie to the hospital. And he's a nervous wreck. You're like schrodinger's cat. Eddie doesn't know if you're alive or not. He chews on the side of his thumb during the entire ride. The rest of the club was waiting patiently in the drama room. Eddie and Steve promised to call as soon as they knew anything.

Eddie can't fucking breath as he sprints down the hospital hallways, ignoring every sign and person telling him not to. He doesn't care. He has to get to you.

Wheeler is outside your room talking to a doctor, but with her back to him he couldn't see the bright, beautiful smile on her face talking excitedly about your miraculous recovery. Eddie runs right passed her to your room, and uses the doorframe to propel himself in, scaring both you and Jonathan who had been sitting quietly.

You look pale, and there are bags under your eyes. But you're sporting a weak smile, shaky hands holding a cup of lime jello. Eddie can't help but smile. You're awake, sitting up, and smiling at him. He has to laugh at the like, ten empty jello packages. Jonathan slips out the door without a word, and Eddie takes his seat by your bed.

"I was so fuckin' scared," Eddie says, tears falling from his eyes before he could even process it. He hadn't realized.

You hold your hand out for him and whisper, "Eddie," and he looks up, puppy dog eyes glossy with lingering tears, and heartbreaking to see. He takes your hand. "You didn't do this."

And he cries harder, leaning down and holding your hand to his forehead and begging your forgiveness anyway. "I did," he cries, "out of spite and jealousy, I tried to hurt you, and I did. I let them leave you alone. I made them and I cheated-"

"-Eddie-"

"-and you should've seen the party-"

"-Eddie, seriously-"

"-leaving because you totally passed the, ow, hey!"

You had flicked him on the nose, his babbling giving you no other choice, but as usual he was being dramatic, you hadn't actually hurt him at all.

"Eddie, stop, and listen to me," you say, "you didn't do this. You're not actually all powerful, you know that, right?"

"But-"

"But nothing," you say, smiling. "But Nancy told me that you saved me so no hard feelings."

Eddie smiles back at you, letting you wipe the tears leftover on his flushed cheeks. He leans into your touch and your heart swells. In your mind, you beg him to kiss you. You beg and plead and hope that this will be the time he makes a move.

He knows this is his chance, he leans closer to you, slowly, gauging your reaction. "Is this okay?" he whispers, when he's just an inch from your lips. You feel his breath as he speaks and you can't resist, pushing yourself forward to close the gap. And he kisses you like he's kissed you a hundred times before. Like he already knows everything you will like, even before you do. His lips are so fucking soft against yours, all plush and warm and taking over your senses.

"Well, I guess I can tell the others that you're fine," Steve says, and Eddie pulls away from you. His sudden absence is cold.

"I saved her," Eddie says, grinning. "Nancy said so."

the hair on the back of will's neck having a disco party during this entire fic

[chiikasevennn]

(this has topics of murder and yandere.....and stuff PLS DELETE IF URE NOT COMFY IM SORRY HUHUHU)

haia omg i have no idea if you're still open or no but i really like whenever writers dive into the more darker aspects of a character or how especially when a process of basically ascending to something what you would consider non human (monarch in this case) and how this affects a character like does this make them less humane or posssiblllyy twist their morals??

like as we can see with jinwoo his morals is err well yeah there but we can see times where he is willing to commit crimes if the time calls it (often the system forcing him to it) but like what happens when he finally swallows the system as a whole?? LIKE since now there is no third party to force him to do murder or what not will his way of thinking change too? like i imagine when he first murdered the guys in the cave very early on in the series you think that maybe he thought that it wasn't that bad..??

I can honestly see it more if it was another scenario and we add in the aspect of the reader or I'll call [name] whwhw.. I feel like Jinwoo is the type to actually lose his sense of humanity just for the sake of [name] or keeping them safe like the two probably was close but had to separate in their own ways but when they meet again [name] can barely recognzie Jinwoo and i dont mean physically or what not it's more like he lost his warmth and seems more... unsettling.. like do you know the feeling of watching those analogue horror or watching anything eerie and you get that feeling that somethings off in a scene that seems normal but you know something is OFF. yeah i feel like that's what [name] would feel ✊.

I just wanna hear your opinion on a more screwed up Jinwoo because as muchhh as i love the fluffy cutie jinwoo i also love delving into the topics of jinwoo just going batshit insane 🤯🙏

-🌟🎀

ABSOLUTELY!

Jinwoo x Reader

Your wish is my command, pookie bear.

Warning(s): YANDERE, nothing much, maybe too short? Not a fic or oneshot lol js my crazy thoughts

Also guys ples comment and say something ...

^⁠_⁠^

Jinwoo himself was already prepared to walk through fire just for his family, and that was just platonic love. Imagine how insane he'd be for a significant other that he loves way too deeply.

Hello???? Like I feel his dedication and love for darling would be higher than the heavens especially if they're already there for him during his lowest part in life.

My hunch is he's a chill yandere; he adores you and wouldn't pull any outrageously crazy stunts directly at you. Instead, he might convey lessons through various means, like allowing uncomfortable scenarios to set up, then emerging from the shadows he casted beneath your silhouette to rescue you.

Like a "savior" yandere. Your knight and sole protector.

He'd be more possessive ig if his crazy fans found out about you, particularly if they desire him to be romantically involved with Hae-In in the name of being a power couple. Jinwoo literally and genuinely didn't give a damn when they trash-talked him.

But hey, fans can be krezi

ALSO HELLO LIKE WHAT IF THOSE CRAZY ASSHOLES START HARASSING YOU ON WORK OR IN SOCIAL MEDIA (like leaving you death threats or rudely demanding you to break up w him bc apparently according to them, you don't deserve him)? Lol he'd be willing to do something about them, so good luck reasoning against him if you don't want bloodshed!!!

He'd convince you to not work anymore if that was in store for you.

"... Woo, you know I can't just quit work like that and have you become the breadwinner for the two of us. You're getting financially better and I'm proud, but I can't jus—"

"Shh," He'd tenderly cup your cheeks with his eyes overflowing with love and concern, every bit of his attention dedicated to you. "Is it so bad for me to want no dangers coming to you?"

"You're also being unintentionally put into unavoidable situations whenever you're in public. Love, you remember what happened last time, right?" He'd add. With a kiss on your forehead, he said, "I'll provide for you, you don't have to work. I can't stand how they're looking at you."

Jinwoo would mumble the final words gently before pulling back. He'd whisper them solely for your ears, aware that you wouldn't interpret that knowledge negatively anymore—it would now simply reflect his worry for your welfare and highlight his character as the tender and loving partner he was.⁠ ♡

[roseykat]

Okay sooo, I don't know if you're into this but I'll leave it here

Since we've established that minsung can and would probably get you pregnant with their babies at the same time, and since breasts produce milk based on how many babies you have to feed...

Lactation kink with minsung

Thoughts?

I got too carried away with this one lmao

No bc firstly Minsung would be so in love with seeing you develop into motherhood. Despite its trials, tribulations, and hardships with carrying their babies, they always see you persevere especially through areas where sometimes there’s nothing they can do to help.

One of those issues would be when your milk starts coming through early and it starts to hurt and feel uncomfortable because there's nowhere for the milk to go. You can pump even though you’re just over a month out from giving birth but it wouldn’t be as beneficial to store it since it will end up expiring regardless if there are other methods for its use prematurely.

Which is why and when Minho tells you that he and Jisung can help out by using some of your breast milk for other things while you’re still carrying the babies. So he suggests that you pump to collect your milk in order to use it for cooking, in cereal and what not, mainly just food for related purposes.

But Jisung thinks along a different line.

Whenever he’s helping you get ready to pump, you sometimes need to massage your breasts because you know it helps with milk flow. Then one day Jisung is sitting next to you, ready to help you set up to pump as you take your bra off. You’re exhausted, sore, fed up, and borderline done with being pregnant until Jisung scoots himself closer to you and very gently starts massaging your breasts for you.

Then just out of fucking nowhere, he leans down and latches his mouth down onto you nipple and sucks. You’re stunned at first, definitely not angry, but taken aback because you didn’t know he’d be into that. Then again, he’s a bag full of surprises.

“So sweet,” Jisung would say as he releases, then will come to his senses, realising what he’s done. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Just…needed to taste you.”

You’d reassure him to not feel guilty because not only did it feel good to get some of that milk out, but simply because there’s just nothing wrong with it in general. Minho wasn’t actually surprised that Jisung wanted to drink straight from you since he’s always been a tits man. Not that that’s the point but, Minho has seen the way Jisung has been looking at you ever since he saw that bump grow.

But then again, Minho is the same way too, just less obvious. He had to admit to himself that watching you get your milk out wasn’t something he was prepared to find satisfying. From that point on, you wouldn’t mind if that’s how either of them wanted to taste your milk.

However, even afterwards - after you give birth, when you start overproducing milk, you’re able to bottle and store extra, but there are days where it doesn’t stop. That’s where Minho and Jisung come to help.

Firstly, you all make sure both of their sons (I’m calling it that they have boys) have a sufficient supply of milk because the last thing they want is to obviously deplete them of their only food sustenance that they have.

Once that’s ensured, both Jisung and Minho help you by practically latching onto you. Both of them would start out by stimulating your sensitive nipples with their tongues before eventually sucking to taste your milk.

I’m also just imagining those two like fucking bulking up bc of how nutrient rich breast milk is. Like they work out a lot and undoubtedly their gains would just shoot through the roof. Minho’s biceps and thighs get bigger, Jisung’s chest and arms get bigger. Christ. They just end up getting thick and they’d look so fucking good. At that point you’re not just helping nurture and grow two babies, but also the babie’s two fathers lmao.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

ive been rereading hp recently and one thing that confuses me is ron's first wand bcs its charlies but charlie gave it to ron after leaving hogwarts?? i dont understand why. did charlie not need a wand? did he get a new one? (if he did get a new one, why? and why could ron not have gotten a new one too?) it just seems so strange and goes against everything else we seem to learn about wands later.

i also suspect the reason ron struggled so much in early years is because of his second hand wand. ron is quite smart (the chess game) and even magically pretty decent (he learns a patronus fairly quickly in ootp and thats deemed hard magic, can hold his own in fights, etc).

im curious on ur opinions on this and about ron's wand situation. (sorry if uve discussed it before and ive just missed it!)

I didn't discuss this before, and it is interesting. I don't think we have a canon answer to why Chalrie replaced his wand, but we do know he still has a wand. He'd have to, considering wands are everything for European wizards and he'd need it as a dragon tamer.

Charlie was born in December 1972, so he started Hogwarts in September of 1984 and graduated his seventh year in June of 1991, a few months before Ron started Hogwarts in September of 1991.

Why would he choose to get a new wand and give his old one to Ron at that point? I don't actually know, but I have a few possibilities, from least likely to most likely:

1. The wand stopped working for him. Charlie's personality or goals or something else changed drastically during his final year or graduation, and he needed to get a new wand because his old one didn't really work for him anymore.

2. There's a superstition that wizards who want to work with dragons should have a dragon heartstring wand. As Charlie knew he was going to work at a dragon reserve and his wand had a unicorn hair core, he might have chosen to replace it from the misguided belief a different core would be better for his profession. (I don't actually know if this superstition is a thing, I made it up as something that could get him to replace his wand and it seems reasonable with the kind of wand superstitions they have in the wizarding world).

3. It's possible that the wand wasn't even bought for Charlie, but used to belong to Grandpa Septimus or something and he used it while at school, then when he graduated, he saved up his own money to buy himself a wand of his own, since his wasn't actually made for him. So, then, Ron was using an even older family wand.

And yeah, I agree. We see it with Neville too, who is using his father's wand and it affects his magic negatively. However, I think Ron was much less affected than Neville since the core and wood of Charlie's wand did suit him. It wasn't the best fit, but it was a decent one, unlike Neville who had to fight his wand and feared it.

[bbobpul]

my youth is yours — jeno

NOTE. hey 😮‍💨 sorry for ghosting

PAIRING. jeno x reader

GENRE. hurt/comfort, angst

SYNOPSIS. entering adulthood with you long-term boyfriend, jeno

WARNINGS. dis might hurt bc iz lil realistic 😫

W/C. 3.1k

masterlist ⟵⁠(⁠o⁠_⁠O⁠)

Is love something you can learn, or is it engraved in your bones the moment you open your eyes to the world? Is it something you master, or something you feel on a random Thursday night after spending the day with someone who made your heart skip a beat? Is this something you develop after years of spending every moment of your life with the same person?

Because, to you, love means only one thing. Love can only come from one person. Love can only be felt with Jeno.

No, you didn't grow up together or meet in a special way. He was merely there, but it suddenly felt like more.

The two of you met in high school. It was nothing special. High school brings you into contact with a large number of people. You create a lot of friendships in high school. But it was Jeno, and one day you were paired up with him on a minor project set by your teacher because she would be gone for a short while.

Before long, a bond formed between you, blossoming into a friendship that extended beyond school hours. You'd hang out after classes, help each other with homework, and share late-night thoughts, and the absence of each other during the day would leave the day incomplete.

Everything proceeded at exactly an appropriate pace—it wasn't rushed or fast, nor was it painfully slow. It was just right with Jeno.

Looking back at your first few years with him, it seemed so natural and carefree. Seeing him was like having a ton of weight lifted off your shoulders—of course, the same is true for him. You appear as though you wince at his corny antics, but deep down, you both know that you feel the same way. He kept telling you, "Your love fills me up with so much happiness," at every opportunity he gets, and you love it every single time.

He radiates joy and warmth, and despite his kindness to everyone, he always makes you feel uniquely cherished. In his eyes, you're not just anyone; you're everything.

And it hasn't changed from high school to this point in college. As you approach adulthood, the love that accompanied your growth as an adolescent lingers.

Jeno's voice stops your thoughts with, "Bub, what do you want for dinner?" Glancing to your side, you notice him fixated on the road. After a long day at the university, you are currently headed home to your shared flat. Because you both decided to attend the same college and because it is obviously less expensive to stay in the exact same place, you both saved money for the apartment you are currently residing in. You both agreed that returning home under the same roof is the best choice for the two of you because you will both become busy over time.

When the red light came on, he looked at you and said, "Should we drive by your favorite restaurant and just order so we could go to sleep early?" after noticing that you were spacing out for the nth time.

"Huh? Oh, okay, bub. I'd love that," you replied upon hearing his voice, feeling as though you were suddenly snapped back to reality, anchored by the sound of his presence.

"You must be so tired, hmm? Is it Mr. Chua again?" he asked, his tone filled with understanding.

You chuckled at the mention of the infamous professor you often vented about. "No, he wasn't around today, actually. I was just really tired from all the lab work I did earlier," you replied, appreciating his attentiveness to your daily struggles.

He acknowledged your reply with a hum, and he skillfully threaded the steering wheel through the drive-thru. He ordered you your usual and gave you an affectionate smile. The vehicle filled with the soothing sounds of the radio and the faint hum of the air conditioning as the sun started to set. You felt warm and cozy even if the temperature inside the car was very cold because you knew that you were heading home with the love of your life.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he reached out for your hand, and in a tender whisper, he said, "I love you," as he began parking at your apartment's parking lot. The simplicity woven into every second spent with each other, filled with love and care, is the kind of love that is true and right.

Your evening flew by, and your early bedtime goal was quickly abandoned as you spent the entire night watching movies with Jeno. However, when spending time with him replenishes you more than a peaceful slumber, what good is sleep?

Sleep is what your body needs, and you just ate your own words when you fell asleep on Jeno’s shoulder.

He noticed that and chuckled lowly. He reached for the remote and quickly turned off the television before positioning himself to properly carry you back to your shared room. He knew that waking you up would be of no use because you are a very heavy sleeper, and you hate it when your sleep gets disturbed, so he tried his best to be as gentle as possible so you would stay in your peaceful slumber.

He laid down on his side of the bed after tucking you in and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

A lot of your evenings went by like that. Spending a quarter of your day in college and going home with him. It has become your perfect daily routine. Although there are times where Jeno fails to drive you home because of how demanding his course is, you end up going home alone, and commuting is an extreme sport. Sometimes, it will be too hard to hail a taxi because of the rush hour and all the other students going home at the same time who are also desperate to rest. Sometimes, even if it was Jeno who said he would come home late, you end up arriving home later than he did. But what is adulthood without a bit of suffering?

‘Love won't make you rich,' that's what you heard from your mother when you said you were dating Jeno. Of course, your love hasn't always been a pleasant sight for everyone. You began dating in high school; of course, people would think you're foolish to enter into such a commitment at such a young age.

There are times when you wonder if your mother was right, especially when you and Jeno fail to pay rent on time, struggle to find part-time jobs to feed the both of you, and add your stressful college work to the mix.

But all your worries will soon disappear in the wind because it's Jeno you are facing those problems with, and eight years of sustaining yourself doesn't seem so hard because there is Jeno, who is your lifeline, your anchor, and your foundation. And even if the world turns its back on you, there is Jeno ready to face all of your worries, your fears, and your doubts because it's Jeno, the one who loves all of you.

"Good morning." You heard Jeno talk from the hallway.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. 'Why is he still here? ' you thought to yourself. It's Saturday, and you both have work, but your shift is at noon, so you didn't bother getting up early, unlike Jeno, who has a 9 a.m. shift.

Jeno has been waking up late several times since last month. If he is not absent, he will be late. It's always been like that. You haven't spoken to him about it yet. You have developed an unspoken rule in your relationship that there are situations that you can tackle on your own because you are both adults.

"Why aren't you at work?" You tried to sound as considerate as possible, but it's his life at stake and your apartment. If he doesn't come to work on time or at all, they will deduct his pay and, in the worst scenario possible, fire him.

"I don't feel well." He simply answered.

"You haven't been feeling well for a month. Wanna go to the hospital?" you suggested.

"It's not really that serious for a hospital, bub," he reasoned out.

"But it's serious enough for you to miss work for a month?" You said without looking at him, not being able to contain it anymore.

You heard him sigh before he headed to the bathroom, and you shook your head. Jeno, on the other hand, thought it would be best not to say anything.

You took your last sip of the coffee before heading to the sink, and you saw the overwhelming tower of unwashed dishes. It's 11 p.m., and your work is 20 minutes away from home if you are lucky enough to hail a cab the instant you come out of the building. Washing these plates will take a lot of your time, but if Jeno doesn't have the energy to wash them today because he is not feeling well, then that leaves you no choice. Good thing you already took a bath and wore your work clothes; you wouldn't have to rush later on.

It's times like these when you realize that you two are no longer the teenagers you once thought you'd remain forever. Those teenagers have now grown, with bigger responsibilities and greater disappointments to confront.

You finished the dishes and gathered your belongings before preparing to leave. However, as you reached for the doorknob, you noticed Jeno standing in the hallway, simply gazing at you.

"I will make it up to you," he said, and all you could do was smile at him before heading out.

All day at work, your thoughts were consumed by him—wondering if he had enough food at home and if he was resting well. This wasn't the first time you'd encountered issues between the two. Despite the absence of major fights and screaming matches, deep down, you knew that things were not okay between you.

After long, tiring hours at work, you received a text message from Jeno that said, 'I'll pick you up from work, bub. I love you.'

You smiled at the notification. He really was making it up to you, and you couldn't even be mad at him anymore.

And he's really there. As you closed the shop, not very far from where you stood, you saw him immediately. Suddenly, you are ready to face everything again because he is there.

You walked up to him with a huge smile, as if you hadn't worked for hours without a break. It was worth it when you're coming home with him.

The drive home was eerily quiet, with only the sound of your breathing audible amidst the corny jokes from the radio DJ. Despite the windows being open and the air conditioning turned off, the chill of the night air seeping in was enough to send shivers down your spine.

As the red light halted the car, you turned to gaze at him, only to find that he was already looking at you with the same love and contentment that had been evident in his eyes since your first year of high school. Now, after eight years together, you were both getting older yet still together, sharing each moment with him by your side.

You had hoped the problems were behind you, believing that your love and understanding would be enough to overcome any challenges that came your way. However, a week after your minor argument, Jeno attempted to return to work, only to find that his employer no longer wanted him back after a month of slacking. This turn of events took a significant toll on both of you, adding to the weight of your existing concerns.

"I'm sorry, bub. I'll look for another job next week, I promise."

The rent was due on Monday, and luckily you saved up enough money for three months after working extra hours since the start of the year.

"I told you to tell me if you have problems, didn't I? For a month, I didn't hear anything from you, and look where it got us? Jeno, it's our finals! We also have expenses for school, not just here at home! If you were too exhausted to work, then you could have just told me." All your pent-up frustrations spilled in an instant.

"I didn't want to burden you, love."

"Jeno, since when have you ever been a burden to me?"

He walked over to you and enveloped you in a hug, and that was when your tears began to flow. Both of you were graduating students, each with your own set of responsibilities and numerous financial challenges to navigate. In the face of it all, you couldn't help but wonder: Is love enough?

"Jeno, it's like I don't know you anymore." You began

"Bub, don't say that."

"I just want you to talk to me. Tell me your problems. I know there are things you can handle by yourself, but at least include me. You have me. I am here for a reason."

Both of you became even busier after that, balancing the demands of studying for final exams with juggling part-time jobs. Jeno faced the added challenge of finding work amidst his other commitments.

Your schedules became so hectic that you no longer went home together, and there were nights when Jeno arrived home so late that you would already be asleep, only to wake up to his departure in the morning.

Your entangled nights became two parallel lines. Quiet and comforting evenings grew even quieter without the presence of others. Every night, you realized that you and Jeno were both growing older and, simultaneously, growing apart. It's something inevitable, something you never wished for, yet something you are currently witnessing with your own eyes.

But growing apart is not contextually synonymous with loving each other less. The love is still there, and the care is still present. That is the reason why both of you are working so hard—because you love each other.

Both of you became so busy to the point where your only connection was coming home to the same house. Suddenly, home felt like nothing more than four walls and a mini fridge, lacking the warmth of four limbs and lips to kiss.

But surprisingly enough, after many weeks, he offered to pick you up from work.

"Keep your eyes on the road," you told him when you noticed him stealing glances at you.

"I love you, bub," he said, prompting you to look at him.

You smiled and replied, "I love you more."

"When is your oath-taking ceremony?" he asked, trying to make conversation amidst the silent drive home.

"I don't know yet. Maybe a few months after graduation."

And then it died down again. But does the silence matter to you when, after so many weeks, he is here beside you again?

He is here.

And that's all that matters right now.

"Should we take the long way home?"

But even a single beautiful night couldn't alter the looming storm heading your way. It's a heart-wrenching inevitability—the painful reality of growing apart.

With each "sorry, I can't pick you up" message and every missed call accompanied by a new excuse, the weight of disappointment settles deeper into your heart. Gradually, you find yourself numb to the ache, accepting it as the new normal.

"Bub, please respond," you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion, as you left yet another voicemail after he missed your calls for the nth time. It's Saturday, and the rain outside matches the heaviness in your heart. You figured he must have finished work earlier than you, so you were counting on him to pick you up. But his cell phone remains unattended, and it's been 20 agonizing minutes of waiting in the pouring rain.

You hated the rain, and he knew that all too well. After a few more minutes of waiting in vain, you were left with no choice but to reluctantly take the train home alone since there are no cabs at this hour. The frustration and disappointment welled up inside you, reaching a breaking point.

"I'll sleep at my mom's house just for tonight. To cool off," you murmured to yourself.

At the train station, your phone buzzed incessantly, and when you finally answered, it was Jeno calling you countless times.

"I'm here; where are you?" his voice came through, accompanied by the sound of the rain.

"I took the train," you replied simply.

"You could've waited," he said, frustration evident in his tone. "I drove all the way here from work; it's almost an hour drive."

"I did wait, Jeno. What are you trying to imply?" you countered, feeling a mix of irritation and hurt.

You heard him sigh heavily on the other end of the line, and you pursed your lips in frustration.

"I'm tired, Jeno," you said wearily.

"So am I."

"Is that so? Okay, I'm sorry for making you drive in the rain. It won't happen again. And just so you know, I won't be coming home tonight."

Through days, weeks, and months of hardly seeing or talking to each other, you both somehow made it through college. Despite everything that happened, there's this overwhelming sense of pride you feel for each other. Maybe, just maybe, it was all worth it in the end.

The high school love you both shared has now transformed into something more significant. The youthful days you once had together are now just memories as you step into this new chapter of your lives.

It feels right with Jeno, but amidst the familiarity, there's a subtle shift, a tinge of bittersweet realization that things have changed.

Both of you have accomplished your dreams, reaching the destinations you once only dreamed of. You've arrived at where you wanted to be.

"Hey!" Jeno called for your attention. You turned and saw him adorned in his gown and cap, and a profound sense of pride washed over you.

You embraced him, exchanging whispers of 'I'm so proud of you' and 'You did well'. Yet it wasn't the same; it was different.

Both of you have grown, realizing that your teenage dreams have come true, and here you are, all grown up.

The love you once held so dearly in your youth has gracefully reached its final chapter. Staring into each other's eyes, there's an overwhelming sense of emotion, an unspoken acknowledgment that what once was no longer is—it's over.

"Thank you for loving me," he said. "Your love brought me here, bub."

[frootiest-loopdee-doo]

Fop Peri fic concept incoming

I’m just gonna start posting the fic ideas I get bc 80% of the time I don’t write them, and I don’t mind letting other people have and use them. Hell, you don’t even have to credit me. I’m stalking all the FOP tags so if you write it I’ll see it. I won’t ask for credit, I’ll fucking SAVOR reading it.

Fic idea #1 Dale/Peri

“Peri’s Master Plan” or “I Can Fix Him” is what I’d call this.

First, Peri becomes dev’s babysitter. This can be set before the finale, or it can be au where dev never lost peri, or it can actually be after dev left peri. It just changes the setup a bit. If Peri is still Dev’s godparent he’ll have to be extra careful when hiding all of this from him. If he’s no longer dev’s godparent, this is his way of staying in dev’s life bc he cares abt the little shit!

His reason for becoming dev’s official babysitter even if he’s still dev’s godparent probably would so that he doesn’t have to hide whenever he’s with dev and also because Dale doesn’t screen the sitters ever so Dev probably has had some pretty awful ones.

Basically, dale starts hitting on the “babysitter”. Peri is initially disgusted, as you’d probably expect. He puts up with it though, for Dev.

Peri remembers a romance book about a beautiful female protagonist falling in love with and “fixing” an evil older man, and gets an idea about how he can help dev! If it’s in a human book it has to be something that could actually work with humans right? Why would it say it’s written by a bestselling author otherwise? This is a great idea!

Peri starts to go along with it, flirting with Dale, doing whatever it takes to make the guy fall in love. Peri overtime uses this as leverage to try and teach Dale why child neglect is bad (crazy idea). Dale does fall in love. Does peri? It can go either way. I’d say yes, I think that’s the most interesting way this can go.

Different routes this story could ultimately take, options A. B. and C.:

A. Dale changes for the better, though slowly. Maybe Dev Dale and peri do sort of family bonding. The huge conflict here though is that Peri definitely isn’t allowed to be in a relationship with a human, much less his (former or current) godchild’s dad. Will love prevail? Find out next time on dragon ball z ass fic here.

B. Dale’s treatment of dev seems to improve, and Peri is feeling pretty awesome about that. However, when talking to Dev, Peri realizes that Dale is only being a better dad when Peri is around- basically faking it to keep seeing Peri. Big angst. Peri confronts Dale- and honestly you can go as light or dark on the angst in this confrontation scene. Me personally, I’m depraved so if I ever write this it will probably be as dark as possible (I’m mentally unstable friends!).

C. Peri succeeds for the most part, but he doesn’t love Dale truly. This is eating away at him. He stays for Dev. He’d planned to leave when Dale got better, but as he understands the human condition more he realizes that the odds of Dale continuing to be a better dad are very low if he leaves. Angst, angst, angst.

Obviously Peri would try to hide the relationship from Dev at least at first in pretty much all of these. Dev would probably find out by accident. This could be done differently though, maybe dev knows early on. Maybe peri doesn’t hide it well.

Also, obviously you can take a different route than A. B. or C.

Feel free to be inspired by this rant. Feel free to steal the ideas here. Again, if you do, I’ll probably find it. I’ll probably read it. I’ll probably be very happy. Don’t worry about credit. Actually, don’t credit me even if you want to 😭😭😭

[moonlightspencie]

tolerate it

Description: listen to the song by taylor, that’ll tell ya

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: it’s just angst lolll, hotch is kind of a dick, age gap relationship (hotch in his early forties, reader in mid twenties)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: based on the song obvi, but also this post from @greg-montgomery bc that idea had been rattling in my brain and ouchie but i’m glad other people had the same thought 👹

also: jack doesn’t exist in this universe for the sake of my brain

Befriending an FBI agent didn’t seem like a plausible next step when I decided to take a job as a barista. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was luck, though whether it was good or bad was hard to decipher.

It started out good.

We sat across from one another after my shift was over. I wouldn’t tell him that hanging out at my job after I was done wasn’t my number one choice purely for the fact that he smiled soft and sweet when he asked. We needed to talk anyways.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, to be honest,” he mentioned, a shy smile on his face.

“Why is that, do you think?” I questioned.

“I have… A past. There’s been so much that’s happened to myself and my family. I have a demanding job. Dating, even the concept of it, has been hard since—“

He stopped, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he looked down at the drink in his hands. I could tell something heavy was weighing on him, and it hurt to see him looking so down. Granted, we hadn’t known one another for long, but he’d become a close friend. I knew some of his tells, at least.

He looked back up at me, finding nothing but sincerity when he saw me looking back at him.

“My wife, uh, she,” he paused, clearing his throat. “She didn’t just… pass away. She was killed. It was by someone my team was hunting down, and it was hard. I haven’t been looking to date since then.”

I nodded. “I understand, and I don’t want to pressure you. But, if you decide that you do feel ready, I’ll be here.”

He smiled, taking one of my hands from across the table. I swallowed down butterflies, trying to ignore the softened look on his face when he watched me.

“You deserve better. You should be with someone less busy. Younger.”

“I don’t mind a busy working schedule, and everyone has baggage. If you don’t want this, that’s okay. But I do,” I confessed, noting the blush on his cheeks as I spoke. “It’s all about communication, isn’t it? Making sure that if things are hard or messy or frustrating that you talk it out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I just—“

“Hey,” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. Again, if you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

I watched him for a while in the silence. He still had that cute frown on his face.

“I think the problem now is that I don’t want to wait,” he said at last.

I smiled back at him, taking his hand as he pulled me out of the little cafe.

Things started out so well. He’d give me a shy smile every time he showed up at my door to take me out somewhere. He’d call each time he was able to on cases. His sweet demeanor and hidden soft heart stole me over.

It was an easy ‘yes’ when he asked me to move in.

It was easy being with him for so long. But things always change. Sometimes for the worse.

A kiss hello and goodnight became the only times I’d feel his lips on mine. He’d work on what he needed to, sure to tell me any time I asked about what he was doing that I wouldn’t understand it.

I’d stand around, waiting for a drop of attention like a kicked dog. It never mattered. Conversations always turned into short arguments shut down by his cool, even-toned voice telling me I was overreacting. Who was I to think that I knew anything?

“You’re throwing a tantrum,” he huffed, annoyed.

I paused, staring at him in confusion. He stared back at me blankly. Of course he couldn’t be bothered to show any kind of emotion outside of a snap in his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have time for this,” he said, shaking his head.

He continued packing his thing to head to the bureau, and I once again stood alone, watching him. A mere inconvenience in his morning routine.

“If this is all in my head, just tell me,” I said quickly. “But it feels like you’re intentionally ignoring me. Like I’m some kind of child to you.”

He stared at me for a moment, his face indecipherable.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You didn’t ask me a question. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask.”

He left after that, leaving me speechless in the living room, staring at the door of the apartment. I busied myself all day, trying not to think about it. Days when I was at work while he was felt fine enough. Not good, but fine.

Days when I was alone while he was out working though… I felt like a kid waiting for a parent to return.

I was in the kitchen with a glass of wine when he finally got home. He silently walked around the space. I’m sure he took off his jacket. Undid his tie. Set down his things and locked up the gun. Usual routine that I had no part in and probably never would.

He finally walked into the kitchen behind me, not bothering to say a word as he got a glass of water. Of course, I’d be the first to speak up.

“Are we going to talk about today?”

I turned, finally looking at him. He sipped at the glass of water, simply raising his brows in question. I furrowed mine in response, sick of him trying to shove away any semblance of communication.

“What about it?” he asked.

“What about it? We were kind of in the middle of talking when you left.”

“And we finished it.”

“No, we didn’t.”

He sighed hard. Quiet again. Brooding and stoic Aaron Hotchner. Never having time for anyone’s bullshit.

I wouldn’t have guessed my feelings were more shit on the pile to him. Guess I should’ve known better.

I looked at the plates that remained in the drying rack. Pretty and clean. I’d spent all afternoon doing the dishes, making sure they’d sparkle. If I couldn’t catch his eye anymore, maybe if he saw his own reflection in the plates, he’d realize I did something for him. It might remind him I was still here. In fact, the silverware was even cleaned and polished until they absolutely gleamed. I could probably blind myself with a spoon if I angled it from the sun just right. And I’d do it if he asked me to. Just to see him smile at me as I blinked back at him, trying to see correctly again. Three hours I’d spent on such a small task. Three hours while he sat in his office. I didn’t even know what he did in there, but I knew he’d been finished with what he actually needed to do for the day. I hoped that he might at least come home to see if I was still in the apartment. Would he even miss me if I had decided to leave? I didn’t know. I knew I could at least make him miss having clean dishes.

I moved swiftly, reaching for one of the plates. I held it in my hands, letting the weight of it weigh me down a little. I noticed how the kitchen light bounced off of the surface. Then, I looked at him.

He still had that stupid frown on his face.

Usually a moment like this would require that the person holding the glass wasn’t thinking straight. An accidental drop, leading to scary, sharp edges of glass all over the floor. Shock. Maybe embarrassment. A jump backwards. I did none of the above when I tossed down the plate onto the kitchen tile. It hit the ground with force, sending shards all across the floor in between us. The pieces shone up at his bewildered face as a taunt. They sparkled in my direction like a gleam of light in playful eyes that were daring me to do it again. And it was fucking cathartic.

I took another, ignoring the call of my name trying to stop me, and slammed it on the ground right on top of the remains of the first.

“Stop,” he said, voice raising just below a full yell.

I smiled to myself, holding the third of four in my hands. I couldn’t stop staring at the wreckage I’d already caused, but I let my eyes wandered in his direction.

“You want a tantrum?” I asked, holding the third plate just above my head. “I’ll give you a tantrum. What was it that you said to me? Uh… Oh! Right: ‘all you had to do was ask’.”

I let the plate drop, debris flying all around my feet, thought none of it was sharp enough to do harm. Maybe that was a part of the fun. The plates were thick and heavy. They weren’t made to break. But when they did, it was loud and hard and didn’t hurt me one bit. In any sense of the word.

As I reached for the final plate in the rack, he started circling to get behind me. He grabbed my arm, trying to stop me from letting it hit the floor. He turned me towards him.

“Stop. You’re acting like a child.”

I merely nodded. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Fuck off, Aaron.”

I whipped my hand hard enough to send the final plate flying. I wrenched myself from his grip after I heard the satisfying crash, stalking past him and out of the kitchen.

He stomped off after me, catching me as I started putting a few things in my bag in the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

I laughed humorlessly. “Right. Like you care.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

Silence again.

“You’re everything to me, Aaron,” I said, staring straight back at him. “You were everything and your feelings were everything and what am I to you? Huh?”

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“And that’s it? Just a commodity. Someone who sits all nice and quiet when you get home so that you don’t feel completely alone. Someone who’ll light the candles and wash the dishes and try over and over again to love you. All for nothing.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s more than fair.”

“You’re acting so—“ he stopped himself, voice raising again.

“So what, Aaron? Immature?”

“That’s not—“

“Sorry, I totally forgot about the age difference. It’s not like you remind me every single time we get into any kind of argument,” I argued back, venom in my voice. “You’re so much older and wiser. You must always know better.”

He scoffed. I stayed for a moment, still squared up emotionally. I finally went back to packing a few things when I realized he wasn’t responding to me. He watched quietly as I went, fists balled up at his sides, almost convincing me that he actually cared.

He called my name again, this time much more quietly. I ignored him, zipping up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. He said it again, a little louder.

“What?” I snapped.

“Where are you going?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe my sister’s place.”

He sighed. “Are you coming home?”

I paused, looking at him as I stood in the doorway. He dropped his shoulders, finally letting his guard down.

“I don’t know. What happens if I don’t? If I were to pick up and leave and never look back?” I asked, steeling my face again. “I don’t think it’d make much of a difference to you.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Then figure out if you really want me in your life. Then I’ll give you an answer. Until then, I’m done giving everything to you all for me to turn up completely drained.”

“I love you,” he said, trying to convince himself just as much as he tried convincing me.

I nodded, heading for the door. I was done trying to convince myself I didn’t need him. I didn’t need empty words anymore. I had the truth: I found it in a neatly packed bag and a pile of broken dishes on the kitchen floor.

[humblefryingpan]

I want to see an au where none of the batfam are superheros except for Bruce.

None of the backstories are different and they all act the same but they're just normal people who happen to be batman's kids. Bats is trying his hardest to stop them fighting crime but it is extremely difficult. The police and JLA don't know anything about the family and have absolutely no idea why Bruce Wayne's kids follow Batman around.

More details and scene ideas under the cut!

Batman tries to give reports to Gordon while kid Dick does flips behind him because he got bored and followed him.

Bruce having to lock all the doors and windows before he leaves to stop Dick trying to fight people (sometimes it works but only if Alfred is there to watch him)

B fights joker while little Jason sits in the batmobile waiting because he was sick and got sent home from school early.

(Jason would still die, because the storyline works pretty well even if he isn't Robin and he'd still come back bc Talia felt bad for her ex but he wasn't trained)

Jay coming back and instead of killing people, he's just really bitchy and throws stuff at Tim. He tries to make B kill joker the same way but he's less threatening because he isn't trained and is just wearing regular jeans and a shirt.

Tim making B adopt him because "you need someone to make sure you don't forget to look after yourself and so you have someone to use as a fill-in kid so that you don't go crazy from" which isn't different to the og but it's just some random kid this time, nothing to do with crime fighting.

Tim goes to a JLA meeting (Alfred wasn't able to babysit) and makes fun of other people's ideas. They are all very confused about who's kid this is and how he got there

Steph and Cass just moving into the manor because their families are shit and it was nice. Both have the same backstories but B stops them fighting anyone else. Idk enough about them to make scenes but imagine them.

Damian was raised the same way, when Talia gave him to Bruce he stopped Dami killing but also just stopped him fighting people fully.

Damian going to Kent farm and Superman trying his hardest to hide information from him, not knowing that Dami already knows it all.

Adult Dick and Jason stealing B's equipment so that their sibling fights are 'more fun' and both ending up in the hospital. They claim they found the equipment on the streets because Batman left it behind

Tim and Damian watching B through the security cameras and texting him their ideas. (They'd get along better because no one is Robin but there'd probably still be some sibling rivalry)

If this is a thing please send me fic recs!

[sammygender]

is there any point in the series that sam could have made an escape and actually successfully gotten away from dean and hunting, or do you think that his lack of support system made it impossible

FANTASTIC QUESTION. sorry im gonna ramble for 7374893594 words now

tldr, past like s3 (and certainly past s5) i think its kinda impossible.

early seasons, like 1-2, sure and totally, he almost does, he plans on it. but then the demon deal for his life happens and theyre trapped in cycles forever and ever and everything becomes a lot harder and, also, sam and dean just naturally become more and more codependent, decreasing the chances of them ever being able to have a 'normal relationship', which i think is necessary (dean loosening grip on sam, them having connections outside of each other) for sam to ever 'get away' from dean/hunting (cause otherwise its just an all-or-nothing choice, more on this in a sec).

i think its less so much about sam successfully getting away in terms of getting dean off his back/to leave him alone (which, dont get me wrong, WOULD be hard, especially as the seasons go on, considering dean cant stand to be alone and has extremely controlling and occasionally stalkerish tendencies <3..... but could still certainly be possible), but about him actually choosing to leave dean/hunting (which for the purposes of this question we r equating).

bc its sort of like..... he takes a lot of Breaks especially during mid seasons (s5 after lucifer's set free (tho iirc this one is dean's doing), s7 after dean kills amy, s8 with amelia tho he thinks deans dead, s9 after gadreel possession is revealed....) but he always always comes back. of course s8 is dean Literally Dragging sam back into it (<3) and also just shaking everything up by being generally Alive, but s7 and 9, its cause dean has done something awful thats genuinely shook sam up, and in the end he just... gets over it. cuz what is the alternative? dean doesnt change and rarely apologises!

like its the fact that of course he wants a relationship with dean because deans the closest person in his life and everything to him, but having a relationship with dean equals their intense codependent unhealthy bond, equals dealing with dean's disregard of his autonomy and ignoring it (read: letting it wear him down). dean's all or nothing. they cant just be 'normal brothers'. and i find it extremely hard to see sam ever actually longterm choosing 'no dean' over 'dean who loves him more than anything and will always do anything for him but systematically wears down his personhood and punishes him for percieved disobedience and thinks he's the one who gets to make choices about sam's life'. like he would have to have a bunch of connections outside of dean, they probably both would, and that would never really happen partially because of dean. they can never let anyone else get on their level. like u said. lack of support system!

and its like... what could dean Actually do that would make sam 'cut him off'/distance himself permanently. i literally and truly cannot think of anything. sam canonically has an INCREDIBLE capacity for forgiveness, just in general - where's that jared quote about how sam forgives everyone cause he sees himself as someone so in need of forgiveness - and this even more so applies to dean. dean locks sam up and leaves him to die, kills his friend, tricks sam into letting an angel possess him, and tries to kill him, and none of that makes sam leave dean permanently, not just because dean makes it physically difficult for him to (tho he does - insisting they work together in s7 on the case, going off to get mark of cain in s9) but also cause sam just eventually forgives him and moves on. is it 'capacity for forgiveness' or is it that he doesnt really view bad things that happen to him as a big deal, that (thru s5-esque emotional abuse techniques <3) deans subconsciously gotten him questioning his own reality and opinions so deeply that it just takes time before sam's agreeing with dean again. makes you think!

but tbf (and this is a digression but i just find it interesting) this probably goes both ways too - what could sam actually do to make dean leave him permanently? even when deans incredibly angry at sam he usually wants him around to berate about it <3. exceptions being start of s10 when hes a demon but even demon dean soon switches to sam-obsession.... and s5. which i know according to endverse Wouldve been a permanent split up? which is kind of wild? and canonises that that Couldve Happened i guess. samgirls should do more with endverse, id kill to see an actually good samcentric fic of like. the events leading to endverse. if anyones read any pls pls recs. ANYWAY. theres also ofc s2 meg possession, where dean just fully thinks sam killed people and is like <3 okay baby brothers lets pretend this never happened we got this do u need me to bury a body <3. truly a ride or die. unless ur actively going against Him specifically. things to think about. tell me ur takes.

and anyway then s11 onwards he is NOT getting out. not unless someone really managed to get it into his head Hey So Pro Tip This Is Fucked. sam acquiesces to dean-as-dictator, having literally Let Dean (be about to) Kill him, dean (newly cured from moc) is consequently much more pleased with sam and with their relationship, they fight much less and theres therefore much less prominent emotional abuse etc since dean is at his worst when hes upset. (iirc. late seasons are a blur except for jack stuff.). and by s13 he has a son and maybe if this happened seasons ago dean's treatment of jack would've been enough to prompt at least a temporary split up but it doesnt, it just sparks a few vague arguments between samndean and sam telling jack that dean is trying <3 and that its very difficult for him <3 which is why he told you hed kill you <3 thats just what dean is like you have to get over it at some point <3 (I LOVE S13). so then yeah. too late.

TLDR... he is too indocrinated <3. sad!

[crimsonbubble]

Bubbly🖤 I just came back to thank you for the Gomez & Morticia Alejandro hc. I didn't need to squeal the way that I did in public when I saw the post :]

I have another ask. So Alejandro X f!reader with reader patching him up because he showed up to her house at a God forsaken hour. The 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧>>>. After she's done, Alejandro just holds her by the thighs and rests his head on her stomach for a minute and then... spicy.

Honestly I'd just be happy with anything you wrote though. I hope you're happy and peaceful 🫰🏼

cw. vaguely suggestive, gn!reader, ale being hopelessly in love and slightly delirious, blood and wounds, inaccuracies in cleaning wounds *not proofread, just pure brainrot

[the tension between people when one is injured and the other is playing nurse makes me go &#*#;#(3#,] also I hope this is okay bc it doesn't really follow the gomez and morticia type nature D:

you're rudely awakened by heavy bangs on your door

as soon as you open it, alejandro all but stumbles in and narrowly missing the coffee table as he falls onto your couch

"sorry for stopping by so early, mi vida. i wanted to see you."

you don't have the energy to scold him just yet, making you way back to your couch after getting your medical supplies

"medbay would've taken too long, so I left as soon as I was able to."

you purse your lips into a thin line before just cutting through his shirt, examining and treating his wounds

thankfully none of the injuries required stitches but he will need to take it easy for a while

you work in silence, only paying attention to cleaning and patching his wounds and alejandro's breathing

maybe slipping a few glances at his hands that clutch the couch cushions as he tenses

a light wince leaving his lips each time you swipe the alcohol-soaked cotton pad over his skin

"next time, just let medbay handle it."

"but then I would have to spend less time with you."

you let out an exasperated sigh, a smile playing at your lips

his hands grab at your hips, roughly tugging you into his lap

he steadies you on his chest, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he simply basks in your warmth

"just let me stay like this, please. just for a little while longer."

[oh-no-its-bird]

Someone said Hokage Tora and now I'm thinking about what would need to happen to make that a reality.

Ok so we're gonna shuffle the Hokage's and their timelines around.

(Also note: at this point, Tora very sympathetic to the Uchiha bc of his relationships w Shisui Itachi and Sasuke)

So Sarutobi dies and people are going "oh noooo someone go and get Tsunade back"

And Tora gets PISSED.

They want another Senju to have the hat?? Are you fucking kidding him??? 2 in a row was bad enough but 3 sets a standard. Choose literally anyone else! Anyone!! Fucking Kakashi would make a better Hokage!!!

And then he stops.

Hmmm. Kakashi as Hokage.

That... wouldn't be too bad, actually?

Long story short: Tora starts to campaign for Kakashi as Hokage.

Kakashi does not appreciate this. Stop immediatley.

Tora is on the civilian council at this point (at the terrifyingly young age of like 17) and lowkey has them under his thumb. So he's able to get them all aboard, meaning Kakashi is officially civilian approved.

The Uchiha are into it to, with him lowkey being the closest they've been able to get to the seat since fucking Madara. He has one of their eyes, he's lead/taught both of the clan head kids, and hes visibly, publicly close to multiple Uchiha/Uchiha sympathizers (Itachi, Shisui, Tora)

He's the yodaime's student which gives him major points in the politics department, + he actually knows what it is like to be in the life of a Hokage, he has seen and been involved in that life firsthand

Hes also on good, personal terms with a few clan heads and solidly neutral terms w the other clans

His clan is innofensivley small (read: fucking wiped out) so there's no concern with biases of a guy coming from a specific clan, working w a bias for that clan

Perfect candidate!!

(Something something Kakashi quietly touching his eyelid and mumbling to Obito that he guesses he'll be able to show him even more of his dream than even he'd expected)

Danzo tries to intimidate him into not accepting it and while Kakashi does agree that he would be one of the worst options, the conversation kinda... leaves him a little less sure he'd really be the worst option.

Anyways, Kakashi as the godaime hokage!!

He hates it.

Tora Shisui and Itchi have to hunt him down the day of his ascension and fuckin wrestle him on stage (he's gonna go home and scream into his pillow later)

How would Naruto canon change with Kakashi as the Hokage so early?? Until this point, the au has mostly been sticking to the script (minus the Uchiha massacre) but this is a HUGE status quo change for a character decently central in the cast list, and it's a change that'd impact just about everything going forward! Don't ask me how exactly because I know very very little about the actual specifics and events of canon but holy shit it'd sure change the course of history, huh? If you wanna get really down to the nitty gritty technicalities, we could take serious liberties and kill off and or save several characters with the simple explanation of "different Hokage, different people assigned to different missions"

Anyways:

Team Ro gets to be his personal guards,, they need a replacement for the team since Kakashi left, maybe we can throw in someone else to join them and add some more chemistry in there

I don't think it'd be anyone on team 7 (I don't live in a world where I can see Kakashi tossing specifically THEM in ANBU that young, no matter how more powerful or better taught than cannon, sorry) also conflicting interests w THREE uchiha on a team or the Haruno siblings. Also, Naruto is Naruto, so. *political noises*

Actually the slot is a very valuable one since they're basically Kakashi's special little guys (anbu eddition) so it's really hard to think of a character that'd even conceivably be put on it. (Part of me wants to add Neji for literally no reason other than I suddenly want him in the AU but that'd bring a whole mountain of implications with him if Kakashi chose HIM specifically to join his personal guard + he's suddenly in ANBU, what??)

Wait would Kakashi even choose the replacement personally.

Wait wait ok. Record scratch. Rewind. Let's try this again.

So. With Kakashi's promotion, Tora gets to he team leader. One of the first things he's told is to find a new replacement for the team

"Shouldn't you do that yourself?" Says Tora

"You've got me to take the hat I refuse to move so much as a single fucking finger more at your request." Says Kakashi, who then delights in bodily removing Tora from the room via the window.

I don't know Neji's actual age but for the sake of this fic he's suddenly Tora's age or only a year younger (Tora is like 17 at this point)

Him and Neji do not get along!! At all!!!! Actually it was kind of hate on sight.

Uhh insert montage where they become grudgingly almost friends but still mostly frenemies

Neji is very talented and Tora is frustrated by how he seems to be being "held back" in some way. Like, he doesn't like the guy! But damn if he doesn't know how it feels to have the system itself fighting you, no matter how good you prove you are and how hard you work.

Anyways, Tora finding out Neji was skipped over and denied for different promotions or smthn bc hyuuga second class or whatever.

And him going "hmmmmmmmmm...."

He hands Kakashi a form with Neji's name on it and Kakashi signs without even looking.

When he scowls and asks if he's even going to look, Kakashi just gives him a dry look.

"Like I dont know whoever you've picked won't be for whatever plot you're cooking up next. Just don't set anything on fire where I can see it and I don't care."

A very, very confused Neji is suddenly told he's not only going to join ANBU but also the Hokage's private guard.

Hey Tora !! What the fuck !!!

They have one of those "You don't even like me??" "I don't have to like you to want to see how far you can go." moments

Queue Neji angrily revealing that it doesn't matter "how far he can go" or how many opportunities are afforded to him bc his limits are fuckin branded on him, and shows Tora his seal mark

Hey Neji !! What the fuck !!!

Hyuuga reformation arc,,,

Ok so not sympathetic Hiashi Hyuuga but like,, rational (deeply fucking flawed) person Hiashi who is able to leverage the "Neji has been ordered to work directly the Hokage" @ the Hyuuga clan elders to at least slightly loosen the seal on him.

TONNS of political drama in the Hyuuga house w Neji being chosen for such a huge position, but w the complications of "they can't fucking voice it outloud" bc ANBU identities are supposed to be super top secret, so it's kept to the really high ranks only

(There's an AU of an AU out there where instead of stopping the Uchiha coup, Tora went "ok but are they wrong tho", decided to help instead, and got the Hyuuga lower cast to join them)

(Look he wants to reform the government, right? Ok so why SHOULDNT he support an attempt to rip it up by the roots?? The Uchiha want equality but Tora wants reformation. They do not know what they just let into their homes.)

What the fuck did I come here to talk about again?

Right, sorry, Hokage Tora

Uhhhh pivoting again here we go ->

So Kakashi is Hokage!!! And he !! Wants !! Out !!!

Tora is a very very clear contender for "the next Hokage", even early on in Kakashi's career. He's basically the guy who MADE Kakashi Hokage (both arranging it and forcing him to accept) and most important people know it.

I'm ngl I kind of don't know how exactly we'd get to hokage Tora.

Maybe Kakashi is temporarily taken out of commission and he's just the obvious replacement. Maybe we do a proper Hokage switch and promote him when Kakashi got the job in the original. Dunno! But Tora for Rokudaime all the way !!

If not Tora I think Rokudaime Neji could be suitably dramatic and fun. Also has similar themes of "rising from the lower ranks against the odds" and just in general tons of interesting implications both politically and like,, character interaction wise.

Everyone expects Tora for the next hokage but Tora decides he likes being the powerful guy in the shadows to a Hokage who knows both how to listen to him and how to lead with a strength and surety he can trust. And decides Neji is apparently that guy who has the leadership and wisdom he can trust.

Callback to the earlier moment where Neiji, voice cracking, goes "you don't even like me."

And Tora gives him a smirk and goes "I don't have to like you to want to see see how far you can go."

Mmmm actually I think I like that ending best, it has the most weight to me. Like, yeah Tora as Rokudaime is cool and a kind of ironic "full circle" moment, but Neji as Rokudaime has that gut punch energy that will leave your skin buzzing and your eyes tearing up with written right

Have to get going but I might try to draw that scene tommorow if I find the energy in me after work (doubtful tbh)

I love a good call back through dialogue in different character defining moments that leave you pointing at the screen shrieking "HE SAID THE THING!!"