#being in a very long relationship where you’re loved

[tsunodaradio]

only exception ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

there are things lando doesn’t like to do, but he supposes he can make some exceptions.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.7k. ꔮ includes: tooth-rotting fluff, romance. profanity. established relationship. ꔮ commentary box: first 1-2 finish of the year, babyyy! my co-driver @norrisradio wrote an oscar version of this here ‹𝟹 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ the only exception, paramore. more time, alfie jukes. loverboy, young friend. c u girl, steve lacy. white ferrari, frank ocean. everyone adores you (at least i do), matt maltese.

LANDO DOESN’T LIKE WATCHING CARTOONS.

Or, at least, he doesn’t like watching them anymore. He’s in his mid-twenties, he’ll tell everyone. He has no reason to tune into things like The Simpsons or Wallace and Gromit. Lando thinks he has much more refined tastes nowadays, thank you very much. 

It’s why he had grumbled and kicked up a fuss the first time you tried to get him to sit down for something. Your yearly rewatch of Avatar: The Last Airbender, you’d said.

He was initially resistant. It didn’t matter how many kisses you promised him, how many hours you vowed to let him game uninterrupted. He just couldn’t bring himself to care about the first couple of episodes, and you let him go with a roll of your eyes. 

But then the stupid flying bison went missing, and Lando couldn’t help himself. 

You liked to watch in his living room, where you could sprawl out on the couch with a bowl of crisps. That made it so much easier for him to move from one room to the other, his eyes flitting a little too long on the television screen as he refilled his water bottle or came home from a quick jog. 

Lando hadn’t really tuned in for the first season— or Book 1, as you so often like to correct him— so he’s a little bit lost, but he picks up the necessary context clues. You’re so invested in it, too, despite this being your nth rewatch of your self-proclaimed comfort series. 

Every now and then, Lando will linger by the door. He’ll even throw in a comment or two. A mumbled “that Ba Sing Se shit is creepy” or an offhand “fucking Zuko,” and you would respond with small sounds of approval or dissent. 

And then he graduates to standing behind you on the couch, his hand on his hip and his gaze fixed firmly on the episode playing. He’s too stubborn to concede just yet that he’s invested, so you settle with this weird getup where Lando kind of just hovers until you call him out. 

By the time the Fire Nation’s prince joins Team Avatar, Lando has given up on feigning disinterest.

“You’re telling me she ends up with baldie?” Lando grunts disapprovingly, his arms tightening around you.

He’s referring to Katara and Aang. You had tried to keep your teasing to the minimum, not wanting to have him revert back to his whole too-cool-for-cartoons shtick. Still, you can’t help the way your lips twitch upward as you lean into Lando’s side. 

“She does,” you say absentmindedly. The Ember Island Players episode is playing, depicting some bastardized version of the main characters’ love lives. “There’s a sequel to this one where they talk about their married life a bit.” 

“There’s a sequel?” Oh, you love it— Lando’s voice pitching slightly higher with enthusiasm, then his attempt to hide it by clearing his throat and repeating, voice suddenly deeper, “I mean, there’s more?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “We can binge The Legend of Korra after this one.” 

Lando doesn’t say anything more. He locks right back into the Avatar episode, but you can feel that excitement thrumming through him like a current. 

Alright, so— maybe Lando likes to watch some cartoons. 

LANDO DOESN’T SET MORNING ALARMS. 

Being jolted awake is the worst feeling in the world for him. His years of conditioning had made it easier for him to adapt his body clock to whatever he needed it to be, without the help of a phone blaring some grating tune. 

He knows how to wake up at any given time. It’s one of the things you’ve teased him about, being the heavy sleeper that you are. 

Nowadays, though, Lando sets two alarms. 

You don’t know about them. How could you? He’s always up before you, hoping to get a run in before the sun has risen, or needing to jet off for work at absurd hours. You’re used to waking up to his empty side of the bed. 

When he remembers, he leaves something. A crude doodle on a scrap of paper with a dozen x’s and o’s. A misshapen attempt at a towel animal, inspired by whichever country he had been in last. 

For the most part, though, it’s the indent of his body in the mattress and the lingering scent of him in the sheets. 

Here’s what you don’t know— 

The first alarm is set 15 minutes before he actually has to get up. It’s set on a low vibrate, just enough to rouse Lando to consciousness. 

Half-asleep, he’ll reach over to find your sleeping form. The two of you tended to toss and turn in your sleep, making it so that he’d sometimes wake up to you on the far end of the bed or facing away from him. 

Whatever it is, Lando holds you. He spends the aftermath of that first alarm cuddling into you, whether it’s his chest to your back or his head buried in the top of your head. Nowadays, it’s become a habit; enough that he sometimes finds himself doing it to hotel room pillows whenever he’s off at races. 

Sometimes, he spends the fifteen-minute gap waking up. Most times, he drifts back into sleep, but with the knowledge that his touch is a little more intentional now. 

When his second alarm goes off, he’ll press a kiss to your forehead and peel away— facing the morning with the knowledge that he has you for one more day. 

LANDO DOESN’T LOSE. 

He has spent his entire life competing, so it’s practically instinct at this point. When a challenge is laid out before him, he has to win. No ifs, no buts, no second-place podiums. It’s the kind of thing that bleeds into every aspect of his life— from serious things like his career, to absolutely ridiculous things like who can brush teeth faster in the morning.

“No need to pout, baby. What are you so mad about?” Lando taunts as he leans back against the couch. The Mario Kart results screen is still flashing on the television, bright and damning.

His name in first place; yours, a distant fourth.

“I’m mad because you’re a cheat,” you accuse with a dejected sniffle, your grip tightening on the controller. 

Lando gasps and presses a hand to his chest. “I would never.” 

“You so did.” As he expected, you’re already slamming buttons to bring the two of you back to the selection screen. “One more round.” 

He purses his lips, attempting to hide the shit-eating grin threatening to break on his face. “You sure you wanna lose again?” he asks innocently. 

You don’t dignify him with an answer, already selecting your character with newfound determination. Lando, for his part, grins like an absolute menace. He spins his joystick as if he’s warming up for battle, his attention divided between you and the game. 

Lando doesn’t lose. But sometimes, he lets you win.

Not in a way that makes it obvious, because his ego is much too big for that. He plays it smart. He’ll take the lead for most of the race, just enough to keep you engaged, to keep your frustration bubbling. Then, right at the last second, he’ll “accidentally” mistime a drift. Maybe he’ll take a turn just a little too wide, letting you zoom past him in a blur of victory.

He does it because he likes the look on your face when you win— the way your eyes light up, the way you throw your hands in the air like you’ve just conquered the world. It’s the same way you look at him after a good race weekend when he’s standing on the podium, champagne dripping from his curls.

It’s a look he wants to keep earning, over and over again.

So when you finally cross the finish line ahead of him, when the words 1st Place appear over your character, Lando groans in exaggerated frustration, dragging a hand down his face.

“Nooo,” he whines. “I had that in the bag.” 

He’s not about to earn any Oscars for his performance. He knows that much. You’re gracefully oblivious, though, and you’re grinning like this is some grand prix instead of a lazy Saturday afternoon. 

“In your face, loser!” you cry, launching yourself at him in celebration. 

Lando lets out an oof as you land half on his lap, half on the couch. Your arms fling around his neck. He laughs, warm and fond, and presses a quick kiss to your shoulder. “Don’t get too cocky,” he warns. “Best two out of three, twerp.” 

He’ll actually try this time, he swears. But he’ll keep throwing every other match if it means seeing you smile like the game isn’t the only thing you’ve won. 

LANDO DIDN’T REALLY CARE ABOUT THE MUSIC HE LISTENED TO. 

His brief stint picking up DJ-ing as a hobby had proved that he cared mostly for house music, the kind of pulsing beats that made for a good night out. Other genres, though? He never really gave them much thought. He was content shuffling through whatever was trending, never attaching any particular emotion to the songs he played.

That is, until you gifted him a Spotify playlist for when he was away.

It had been a simple thing. Just a shared link and a text message that read: For long flights and hotel rooms. So you don’t forget home.

He hadn’t expected much. But then he found himself listening to it across a dozen different countries. 

Your playlist became his soundtrack while stretching at the gym in Bahrain, watching the rain streak down his hotel window in Japan, lying awake with jet lag in Miami. The songs you chose weren’t just good; they were you. A mix of things he recognized from car rides with you, songs you’d hum absentmindedly while doing the dishes, melodies that reminded him of mornings tangled in bed.

And so Lando gets an idea. 

He’ll make you a playlist, too.

He thinks he’s absolutely rubbish at it, thoughts. He agonizes over every song choice, wondering if it fits, if you’ll like it, if it says enough without saying too much. His Notes app is filled with half-written ideas— Do I put that one song from our first road trip? Too cheesy? What about the song that’d played at the café of our first date? Which one was that, even? 

He changes the order a dozen times before finally forcing himself to stop, heart hammering as he prepares to give it to you. 

It’s stupid. He’s being stupid. This isn’t some wedding proposal or anything; it’s literally just a collection of songs. He half-expects you to laugh when he presents it to you, shoving his phone into your hands with a muttered, "Made you something. It’s probably shit."

But you don’t laugh.

You scroll through the playlist slowly, taking in each title. Then, to Lando’s surprise, your eyes well up, and you blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

“Hey— hey, what’s wrong?” he panics, immediately regretting everything. “Is it that bad?” 

Damn it, he’s thinking. Probably should’ve booted that one Post Malone song. 

You shake your head, pressing your lips together to keep them from wobbling. “No, it’s just…” You sniffle, smiling up at him with something so unbearably soft that it makes his chest ache. “You made me a playlist.”

Lando exhales. “Well, yeah. You made me one first.”

“You made me a playlist.” You repeat the words like they mean something more, something bigger. And maybe they do.

He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dunno. Guess I kinda like music now,” he says, suddenly a bit shy. 

You’re on him in the next minute, the force of your kiss sending him reeling. He laughs against your mouth even as you mumble something like shutupshutupshutup. He holds your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away your happy tears, and he resolves to make you a dozen more of these little collections. 

Somewhere, his phone screen is still lit, the title of the playlist staring up at the ceiling.

For when I’m home.

LANDO NEVER SAW THE APPEAL IN JOURNALS. 

Pen and paper never really meant much to him. He wasn’t the type to jot things down, wasn’t one for sentimental scribbles. Nobody else probably expected it of him, either.

Which is why the media nearly combusts when, during a post-race broadcast, the camera catches Lando hunched over a spiral wirebound in the garage. He’s seen scribbling something with uncharacteristic focus, and then he’s tucking the notebook away like it’d never happened. 

People on Twitter are quick to speculate. One viral tweet claims it’s Lando’s Death Note, where he’s listing the names of all the drivers he decimated at the day’s qualifying session. 

By the time media obligations roll around, it becomes part of Sky Sports’ list of queries. Once the usual stuff is all ran through, the interviewer pounces on the opportunity for a more lighthearted, humanizing angle. “So, Lando, what’s in the notebook?” the reporter asks, shoving her microphone a little closer to the driver. 

The Brit stiffens.

All around the world, people see the open surprise on Lando’s expression. The oh, shit moment where he seems to realize his ‘private’ moment had been put on full blast. 

He recovers quickly. Tries to evade by dodging the question with a joke. It’s obvious that the media isn’t going to give in, though, so by the time it’s a beIN SPORTS journalist posing the question, Lando can only sigh in defeat. 

“It’s a gratitude journal,” he admits, half-grinning. 

There’s a pause. A beat of disbelief before the interviewer laughs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, inspired by my girlfriend waiting at home.” Lando winks straight at the camera and waves exaggeratedly. “Hi, baby!”

(You don’t find out until much later, when the clip has gone viral on TikTok. The comments are all to be expected— calling Lando a simp, claiming he’s down bad and absolutely gone. It’s equal parts amusing and mortifying.) 

The interviewer chuckles. “Well, given today’s pole position, I’m guessing that’s your number one?”

Lando’s eyebrows raise. “No,” he says, his voice tinged with disbelief. As if it’s unimaginable. “I mean, pole’s great and all, but I always have the same thing at the top of my list.” 

“Which is?” 

“Her name.” 

LANDO DOESN’T ‘GO SLOW’. 

He’s not built for it. 

It’s just not in his nature. Not when he spent his entire life learning how to push the limit, trim down lap times, find milliseconds where nobody else could. He thrives in speed, in the way his pulse thrums when he’s threading a car through corners, the rush of adrenaline when he crosses a finish line. He isn’t known for patience, either, or waiting, or any of those things that require taking his foot off the gas.

And yet. 

And yet. 

“Lando,” you say amusedly, glancing at the speedometer. “Are you seriously driving below the speed limit?”

Lando doesn’t look at you. He just shrugs, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “Just being safe, baby.”

Your lips twitch, suspicious. You’re onto him, because of course you are. It’s embarrassing how obvious he’s become. In his defense, he never used to do this. Never used to ease into turns, never used to take the long route home, never used to pray for red lights and stop signs if it meant keeping you in his passenger seat a little longer.

But nowadays, he does.

“Baby,” you sing-song. “You do realize I live with you, right? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“Mm,” he hums, noncommittal.

You shake your head, but the look on your face is fond. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

Lando risks a glance at you then. His heart stumbles at the sight. 

You’re curled up in the passenger seat, eyes shining, hair mussed from where he’d flicked at it earlier. You look so impossibly soft in the glow of the streetlights, and he’s struck with the kind of certainty that rattles him down to the bone— that this, right here, is his favorite kind of drive.

His hand tightens over your thigh. “Guess you’re right,” he says with a laugh. “I am pretty ridiculous.”

Lando still lingers at the next red light. ⛐

[mononijikayu]

imagine you and best friend! satoru ending up having to pretend dating.....

taglist: @gumiiiiezzzz, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio, @yoonseokerist

imagine you and best friend! satoru dealing with valentine's day and seeing all these discounts.

it starts with a tragic discovery between the two of you after a long day at work. you've both been so busy that you both have forgotten that today was valentines day.

valentines day. a day both of you could never seem to touch or want to touch. a day you both don't think you could celebrate, with how busy you both are in between missions.

at times, being busy was a blessing. because you both don't have to deal with these sort of things. but today, after finishing the work schedules rather early, there was no choice for the two of you but to face the world bend to be the world of lovers on this day.

today all around tokyo was these special valentine’s day deals that's only valid for one day. your favorite bakery down the street is offering buy-one-get-one-free heart-shaped pastries. the movie theater satoru often goes to has a couples special for half-price tickets.

even that currently trendy high class french restaurant you’ve been dying to try has a special lovers night only promotion where they will serve a full-course meal, usually way out of your budget, free for couples celebrating their love.

“this is just ridiculous, isn't it?” satoru suddenly scoffs, adjusting his sunglasses. you see him put his hands on his pocket, irritated. “what about best friends? where’s the platonic soulmate discount?”

“exactly, goddamn it!” you huffed in response, glaring at all the signs right in front of you. “we suffer through all our mutual friends’ gross relationships, third-wheel their dates, and for what? no perks for us suffering folk?”

imagine you and best friend! satoru both lamenting about being single and all your friends being couples, enjoying their dates.

the thing is, its not that you hate romance. you don't. you never have hated it. but it's hard to deal with it. being very busy people with very incredibly demanding jobs, its often hard to find the time to just stop and date and slow down like all of your mutual friends.

so, it's hard this month. it's consistantly been a month of endless wedding talk, anniversary countdowns, and romantic getaway plans from your friends.

meanwhile, you and satoru sit at your usual café table, aggressively stirring your coffee as couples giggle around you. you couldn't help but feel your eye twitching.

“bet they’re all getting free desserts tonight, aren't they?” satoru grumbles, watching a couple share a milkshake with two straws. “disgusting.”

“you know what?” you say, slamming your mug down. “we deserve something nice too.”

he raises a brow at you. "well, what do you have in mind?"

and that’s how you end up at the very high-end french restaurant continue to rave about, holding hands across the table, grinning at the host and making the most of the efforts you can to actually look ike you’re both madly in love with each other.

“we're just another happy couple here for the lover’s night special, as you can see.” satoru beams at the host.

the host nods. “wonderful. we’ll just need to see proof of marriage.”

your smiles freeze at the host's words. “...i'm sorry....marriage?”

“uh, yes, mam. the promotion is exclusively for married couples., as you can see on the poster.”

satoru recovers first, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “of course! we’re very married. we got married at the city hall. yeah, yeah. now we plan to be married again with all of our friends there. i'm just waiting to repropose again, hahahaha.....isn't that so ridiculously married?”

you finally recovered and nodded rapidly. “....yes, yes. we're so madly in love. we really are, aren't we?......darling?”

"right, right, my love. isn't this great?"

the host eyes you both with scepticism but the host just gives up and eventually shrugs. “alright, alright, mam, sir.....right this way.”

and that was a success. now, you both sat there comfortably in that fine leather covered booth and start ordering almost everything in the menu.

a four-course gourmet meal later, you’re leaning back in your chair, stomach full, congratulating yourselves on your flawless deception. then the bill arrives. it’s a number so high your soul leaves your body.

satoru lets out a low whistle. “yikes. well, i'm glad we don’t actually have to pay this.”

“yeah.....” you laugh weakly, but sweat prickles at your neck. then you had a moment, suddenly smacking his arm lightly. "wait, aren't you rich, satoru? why are you worrying about the price?"

"hey, hey. just because i'm rich doesn't mean i don't want to enjoy the discounts." he says defensively, taking out his black card. "i enjoy this sometimes."

then, right as the waiter approaches again to take the bill, satoru suddenly crouches down, moving down slightly just to tie his shoe. and your overfed, panicked brain sees your husband on one knee and immediately blurts out:

“YES, I DO! I'LL MARRY YOU AGAIN!” you shout in a panic to satoru as your eyes widened along with his. "uh....."

the people in the restaurant look at eahc other before the entirety of the restaurant suddenly just burst into applause, in small bouts and then in a larger surge.

the waiter comes back with the receipt and just beams at the two of you, clapping. the host dabs at their eyes and just sighed, as if it's the incredible thing they've ever seen. satoru looks up at you, mouth open in sheer betrayal.

“babe.......” he says through gritted teeth.

“honey.....” you whisper back, frozen in horror.

and just like that, you’re fake engaged (once again).

imagine you and best friend! satoru dealing with the aftermath of your fake engagement.

as soon as you step out of the restaurant and away from the prying eyes of all the people who were still congratulating the two of you, you whirl on satoru with the most horrifed, exasperated exression you could muster all the while shaking your head.

you didn't even know where to put your hands at this point. you were just moving it about it, trying to understand what just happened. you were just both faking this to have a good, joyful discounted dinner.

“Why didn’t you just stay standing?” you hissed at him.

“i was just tying my shoe, for christ's sake!” he says, offended.

“WHO GETS ON ONE KNEE TO TIE THEIR SHOE IN A FANCY RESTAURANT?” you suddenly say in an outburst of emotion.

“excuse me for being dramatic while i'm tying my fucking shoe, bro!”

you groan, pressing your hands into your face. “this is a disaster. what if someone we know saw? fuck, what if someone took a video and uploaded it on tiktok with those heartwarming music tunes? what the fuck, everyone at work will see it, oh my god.....”

satoru wiggles his fingers. “then we milk it for free gifts. i mean, come on. think about it. it's a foolproof plan."

“no, absolutely not. this is a one of thing, satoru. oh my—”

"just hear me out! this is going to be a good thing for the both of us every single holiday and every single restaurant we visit. i mean, it's like with a birthday cake."

"satoru, that's a horrible idea!"

but it’s too late. he’s already taking a picture of the voucher that he was holding in his hand, thanks to the manager who is basically getting free advertising with what you had both accidentally done and texting it to your found family group chat.

satoru 🤍: just got engaged lol free meal WOO

nanami (ken)to: i refuse to believe this. [name} surely you have sme common sense not to do something like this.

get(oooouttt): there's no fucking way this is happening??? [name] blink twice if you feel like this is a kidnapping

ssssssshoko: did you drug her? there's no way she's agreeing to this, satoru. come on.

megumi (gojo's son): block me already oh my god, i don't want any part in this.

you snatch the phone from him, but the damage is already done. soon enough, your phone starts blowing up. it's like everyone on the planet is just spamming you. including your literal parents. and then his parents.

i mean, all the people you mutually know are calling, texts after texts are just continuing to flood in, and then all the sudden, you found yourself realizing that you might actually have to commit to this bit unless you want to explain the most humiliating scam of your life.

you look at satoru with the glare of a thousand suns. "i'm going to kill you."

he wiggles his eyebrows. “ready to be my future spouse, baby?”

you inhale deeply, trying so hard to calm yourself down. but unfortunately, that's easier said than done at this point in time. you hum to yourself, almost like a mantra.

you could strangle him. i mean it's not that hard, he will let you do it. wait, it shouldn't be could. it should be, you should strangle him. at this point, it feels like an essential thing to do now.

but you knew yourself better than that.

whatever he does, you know you can get over.

you like this guy, you were sure of that too well.

just a little bit too much, more than it should be allowed.

so instead, you sighed as you take the voucher from his hands. "you’re buying me breakfast every day until this blows over.”

he smirks. “anything for my baby.....wait wait, my wife slash fiancée again.”

"don't push it or i'll shove you."

"aw, babe, you love me so much, don't you?"

"shut up!"

imagine you and best friend! satoru waking up the next morning to absolute chaos.

you barely got a moment of peace when you finally got home before your phone starts vibrating like it’s trying to escape your nightstand. yet shook your head at it and left it there for quite a fair bit and ended up drinking some wine, regretting your decision one after the other over botles upon bottles.

and that's when your night ended, with you too drunk off your mind, still refusing to open your phone and you going on ahead to mumble in your sleep about how you didn't know what to do when you had to face reality.

but respite could only last for so long. with one eye barely open, you your found yourself woken by the stupid, endless buzzing sound that's been coming from your phone.

you groaned, still feeling the headache from alcohol from last night. you didn't want to get up. you didn't want to face the messages that's coming one after the other on there.

but even if you wanted to get back to sleep, you know you couldn't. when you woke up. you just did. there was no other recourse now. you mumbled under your breath before moving forward and blindly grabbed the phone.

opening it, it blinded you. you groaned for a bit, adjusting your eyes to the information. before long, you were squinting at the screen. you couldn't believe what you were seing. you purse your lips.

37 missed calls. 86 unread messages.

your message box, from the group chat to every other contact message on your phone, well they were all on fire. and you didn't know how to stop it or to control it. they were just all a mess and you didn't know what to do.

satoru🤍 : so actually the engagement is real. me and [name] are really engaged </3

ssssssshoko: “you got engaged, [name]???? i had to find out through TEXT??? from satoru???? that you're engaged TO SATORU? explain, asap.”

get(oooouttt): wow this is like the worst thing [name] ever did in her life actually

nanami (ken)to: “i am deeply concerned.”

megumi (gojo's son): “i hope this is a joke. i really, really do.”

then came the other kids messaging you individually. wait, how did they even find out all about this? they weren't even in the gc that satoru made for your little found family. you start to scroll up and try and figure out who they were from.

yuuji (my son actually): “CONGRATS, SENSEI!!!!!! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN ONE DAY!!!!!!”

nobara (my pretty daughter): “U BETTER LET ME PLAN THE WEDDING SENSEI????”

yuuta (eldest son): [name]-sensei!!! congratulations to you and gojo-sensei!!! im wishing you well <3

maki (eldest daughter): [name]-sensei what do you MEAN you're engaged to that idiot???? MESSAGE ME BACK, SOON????

there were more of that, if you were being honest. one after the other, your students from kyoto and tokyo, and even from your one year in fukuoka, were just questioning you left and right on the same question. why the fuck would you be engaged to gojo satoru?

"i can't deal with this." you say as you continued to scroll through your messages. "i can't be doing this."

but then a message stops you at your tracks. you could feel yourself stunned with your mouth agape. this can't be happening to you right now, not at this moment. you purse your lips, as you reread the message over and over again.

yaga masamichi (ugh my boss) : “{name], i've told gojo already. but we need to talk.”

you moaned with irritation, almsot wanting to throw your phone. now your boss is involved? you can't be dealing with this after a night of drinking. you just really can't.

before you could even process that further, your doorbell rings. dreading what’s about to come, you shuffle over, still in your horribly mismatched pajamas, and open the door only to find gojo satoru, fully dressed, grinning, and holding up a tray with two coffees.

“good morning, fiancée of mine.” he chirps at you, grinning. he lowers his gaze. "ohhhh, cute set."

you groaned at him, rolling your eyes. “why are you like this?”

“because i’m very dedicated, very devoted, very enthralled with our little funny bit.” he breezes past you into your apartment, setting the coffee down before dramatically flopping onto your couch. “so my dearest baby, how does it feel to wake up engaged to me?”

“like i’ve made a terrible mistake.” you say to him, taking the coffee from his tray. "like i've ended up in a bad dream over and over again. like i've been reborn into a bad life. like i've been—"

"okay, okay, i get the point." satoru clutches his chest, sighing dramatically. he moves to take his own coffee. “but don't worry. i'm sure that's not permanent. that’s just the pre-wedding jitters, sweetheart.”

you throw a pillow at his face. "you're so annoying. let me have my drama here."

he catches it with ease, grinning. "not without me, baby."

"ugh, can't you call me something other than baby?"

"why not, baby not hitting your system?"

"no, it's giving me the ick."

"well, give me a moment." he winks at you. "i'm gonna find you a good one."

you hummed, sipping your coffee. "make it good."

"so how's pookie bear—"

you threw another pillow at him.

you should have known it wouldn't have worked.

you groaned at the appearance of infinity.

he smirked at you. "i'm taking that as a yes."

"i hate you."

"no, you don't."

imagine you and best friend! satoru realizing you have to deal with everyone’s reactions now.

you both spend the day together in your apartment, just going and watching the first season of love is blind. satoru was getting way into it that he ended up screaming at how badly it's going.

in the middle of your transition to season two, your phone goes on and buzzes once again. you raised a brow, picking up your phone again, checking who it was. must be a message again.

you purse your lips into a line. it wasn't a message this time. right now it’s your boss, yaga masamichi you on the other line calling. you exchange a look with satoru and showed him who was calling.

the white haired man smirks as he leans on your rather comfortable couch, mouthing for you to answer it. you roll your eyes at him before pressing the button to answer and putting the call on speaker.

“uh—hello?”

“get to my office. now. and bring gojo.”

you furrow your brows. "for....for what, yaga?"

"for human resources talk." he says rather bluntly. "on relationships and ethics."

"hey, yaga—" satoru starts to say in a cheerful tone.

but before satoru can breathe another word, yaga masamichi immediately ended the call. you sighed heavily as you glare at him, quickly putting away your phone. you move to take your second cup of coffee and drinking it.

satoru sips his (cold) first coffee. “welp...... i guess we’re in trouble. now.”

you groan, dragging a hand down your face soon after you drink. “ugh, i can't believe this. satoru, this is all your fault.”

“my fault?” he overdramatically gasps, feigning offense at your accusation. “who was it that panicked and said, ‘YES, I DO!’ in the middle of a restaurant knowing we were already fake married?”

you glare at him. “who the hell fucking kneels like its a proposal without warning just to tie their shoes in a romantic high end restaurant during the middle of valentines day rush hour, huh? of course i'd think it's a proposal, dumbass!"

he grins at your rant, raising his coffee cup up like it was a toast. “someone who's happy to be a trendsetter.”

you smack his arm, and he laughs, dodging you easily. “c’mon, let’s go and see yaga, let's just get this over with and give him what he wants.”

and with that, you and your fake fiancé went and headed off to deal with the next level of this disaster. and this time, without the panic that you had at the restaurant. well, at least that's what you hope.

imagine you finding out that best friend! satoru actually really likes you.

you expect the meeting with yaga to be a disaster. that's just how it goes when you had meetings with yaga when you were in high school. i mean, that's just how it was back then. you were always getting roped in satoru and suguru's stupid little messages, after all.

but as soon as you both arrived, he sat you both down and started to go and tell you both about how there's paperwork that has to be done and that you and satoru should remember ecthics (especially satoru).

well, that was much more on the fact that satoru's too well paid and relatively rich and he shouldn't be ripping people off with emotional manipulation when he could afford not getting the vouchers from a restaurant.

but all in all, it was a new experience with yaga. maybe he was really getting old. because by the end of it, he does something that you don't expect and pat you and satoru in the back.

yaga then sigh deeply, rub his temples and then simply says. “just keep it professional at work. especially you satoru. i'm watching you."

"but yaga, i can't say no if they offer it to me—"

"no ifs or buts, satoru." yaga successfully cuts satoru off. "i don't care if you get them. just give them to [name]."

"yeah, satoru. give them to me." you also butt in, almost cheekily with a shit-eating grin on your face.

"you're so annoying, i can't believe this."

yaga turns to you. "don't provoke him, not here. i want this to go as fast as possible so this can just not be more paperwork than it already is."

and then after that, that’s it. there were no punishments, no dramatic consequences from him like it used to be. it was just a pat in the back and a warning not to let your engagement interfere with your jobs. and to get take advantage of too many free coupons.

when you and satoru leave the office, you both exhale in relief. you both started to make your way out into the hall way before you went ahead and started stretching, letting the sun hit you as you walked.

“that was surprisingly easy, wasn't it?” you muttered to him. "that was so unlike yaga."

satoru smirks. “yeah, almost like he’s given up on controlling me.”

"well, i can't really call it giving up, more like he's just....you know, making life easier for him." you yawned back at him. "well, except on the coupons."

"hey, when it's being offered to me, who am i to go and say no to some good old granny offering it to me in a tuesday in her petite little shop?"

"that's why." you sighed back at him.

with the biggest hurdle out of the way, you assume things will settle down. though, it's another thing when it comes to the group chat. the group chat was still going on about it.

but you were sure today, it will eventually stop being an explosive news trend. and people would actually come to believe that you and satoru are actually, really, canonically engaged.

well, it should be fine. really, it should be. i mean, if you can fake being engaged, then you can fake breaking up too, right? it just takes a little bit of the imagination to do it all over again.

but then things start… getting weird.

at first, it’s little things.

like how he suddenly starts calling you his fiancée all the time, even when it’s just the two of you. it was as if he just really gave up about any corrections at all.

or how he insists on holding your hand when you’re out together whether that's in a public spor or a private spot, even when no one was around to go and watch the two of you.

but then it just really escalates, to the point of no return.

one night, when you’re out with some of your friends, and when someone teases you about the engagement and how it went viral on social media.

and satoru does something that you didn't expect. gojo satoru doesn’t joke back. instead, the white haired man merely wraps an arm around your shoulders and casually says to that person, “yeah, that's the point. she's mine. that's how it works, no?”

your eyes were wide to the point of bursting. satoru smiles, his blue eyes narrowed. but they were not bluffing, you can see it really well. you know that look all too well for him to just be playing an act. he means it.

you felt a sudden panic. you know that it's an act. well, it should be an act. it should be part of the bit, the one that you were both in on. but the way he looks at you at this moment, all too focused, all too sincere— you know that it’s not fake.

what was this damn feeling? you try to ignore it. but you don't know how to. not when you could feel your heart beat going on and on and on when you keep lookign at him.

you tell yourself to stop looking, to stop focusing on him. you tell your body to stop being so damn red all the time, to stop feeling flustered whenever you try to not kick your feet when he laughs.

you keep trying to convince yourself that he’s just too committed to the joke. that this is just all good fun between the two of you, that you both can stop worrying about this in no time.

until one night, when it all falls apart.

imagine best friend! satoru accidentally confessing his feelings to you.

it unfortunately happens during a late-night walk after a long mission. you both ended up taking missions that's only a few train stations away from each other.

you didn't want to give in, at first. but of course satoru keeps asking about your mission today and where you'll be. and he was happy to know you both will end up easily meeting if you ride the train to where he was.

and that's what ends up happening. you finished your mission within a couple of hours and immediately meet him at his favorite cafe in roppongi, already finishing a bout of the pastries they had in there.

you sighed as you sipped through the remainder of your strawberry matcha drink with tender ease, continuing to walk beside satoru through the brightly lit alleyways.

this part of city is quiet for some reason, believe it or not. usually roppongi is busy, but satoru seems to know which streets are relatively empty at this time.

well, you supposed that's just how it works sometimes. roppongi is his playground after all. you always preferred enjoying around shimokitazawa. there were too many good thrift stores and local food stores you go there.

all through out the walk, you noticed that gojo satoru is uncharacteristically silent. which was way too unlike him. it was really freaking you out. you have never had this much silence when it comes to gojo satoru.

you finally go and nudge him with your elbow. “what’s the hell is up with you?”

he exhales, shoving his hands into his pockets. “nothing.”

a pause comes as you both continue to walk.

you wanted to say something again, to ask.

but then he beats you to it as he looks at you.

he sighs rather softly. “really, it's nothing. i'm just thinking.”

you tilt your head, brows furrowed downward. “about what?”

he suddenly stops walking, turns to face you, and you know. even before he says it, you know. satoru never hesitates. you don't think you've ever seen this man ever have a second thought when it comes to things he's serious about.

he never falters, never holds back. but right now, standing under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looks rather nervous. and when he speaks, his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. he just never was that type of person. he's not someone who falters, or ever holds back.

but right now, standing under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looks rather nervous. if anything, he looked more like a young school boy trying to convey something. and it was something you had never seen.

that's why it astounds you when he speaks a little later, with his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “you know i wasn’t actually joking, right?”

your breath catches, nearly dropping your strawberry matcha. “what?”

“this whole thing, all this.” he gestures vaguely, almost all too messy. “this thing....this....us. it's not....it wasn’t really fake. well, at least not for me.”

you felt like time stopped in that moment. you could feel your heart stop. everything in the world just suddenly stopping. everything around the two of you, everything just suddenly stops.

you can’t think. you can’t breathe. does satoru actually like you? does he really have this true honesty in his heart about this? you just felt like you were malfunctioning right now.

and furthermore, you have to stop right now and think, to go on and start asking you have to ask yourself all these questions—was it ever fake for you, either? and most of all, do you actually like him too?

all the sudden this inevitable silence continues to compound and stretch between the two of you. all there was now was the weight of his all too honest words lingers in the air, heavier than anything you’ve ever faced together.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. gojo satoru, for once in his life, isn’t smiling. he’s just looking at you for approval, for reciprocation.

you watched as his nervous hands still remained shoved deep into his pockets like he’s bracing himself for impact. like he’s waiting for you to break his heart and reject him and tell him that this isn't what you want from him.

you swallow and took a breath. “satoru…”

he exhales sharply, tilting his head back. “you don’t have to say anything to me, really.....i just—”

"hey, i want to say something but i just...."

his lips quirk up, but it’s not his usual cocky grin. It’s smaller, almost hesitant. “you don't have to say something out of pity, really. i just....i'm not trying to convince you. i just....figured you should know.”

your mind continues to race. you and satoru have always been best friends. from childhood to now, you were always what the other needed. you bicker, you tease, you share meals and inside jokes. you had a world of your own.

but then you think about all the little things as you grew older and got even closer, there were things you missed along the way. now you could see the way he always saves you the last bite of his dessert, the way he reaches for your hand even when there’s no reason to. the way his gaze lingers, softer than it has any right to be.

the way you never pulled away.

the way you never wanted to.

the way you wanted it to continue.

"wait, you like me?" you say, with mouth agaped. "what?"

"yes!" he says, almost defensively. "what's wrong with that?"

"nothing, nothing is wrong with that. i just....." you take a slow breath, calming yourself. “since when?”

satoru huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “dunno. maybe....a while now.” his eyes flick to yours. “i didn’t mean for it to happen, y’know? but then we fake-dated, and i thought—”

you purse your lips. "you thought?"

he hesitates, but he says it anyway. “maybe if i played pretend long enough, you’d actually look at me that way.”

your chest aches at his words. for a moment you let them sit and let yourself think inwards. to think about all these years together. and those little hints you felt within you, those little butterflies that dwelled upon your belly little by little.

you think about the times when you’d felt right at home when satoru put his arm around you in public. how your heart would continue to skip a beat when he’d whispered my favorite minx or my sweetheart just a little too softly. how the idea of this not being real had stung more than you were willing to admit.

you step closer, and his breath catches. “satoru.” you say again, quieter this time. "hey, listen to me."

“yeah?” he looked at you, almost too hopeful, too eager for you to see him. to look take in the whole of him. "what you want, sweetheart?"

you could feel your cheeks flushed and your heart running a marathon as you reach for his hand. you let them curl gently around your fingers, ever so tightly, as though there was no more option to let go. he watches you do what you did. he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

“…what if I’m already looking at you that way?” you ask him, almost too shyly as you try your darnest to continue to look at him. "i mean....what if i'm just into this as you are?"

his head snaps toward you. his lips suddenly part. his fingers tighten around yours, like he’s afraid you’ll let go. then he exhales a breathless laugh, tipping his forehead against yours. you gasped lightly, finally face to face all too wholly.

“god, i hope you mean that.” his voice is barely more than a whisper.

his tone just feels rough around the edges like he’s afraid to say it too loudly, as if giving the words too much weight might make them collapse. his bright eyes were now dark and searching, flicker across your face, desperate to find any hint of hesitation.

“because there’s no takebacks, okay?”

his breath is uneven, his chest rising and falling too quickly as he waits for your answer. he looks like he’s bracing for impact, like he’s convinced that at any second, you’ll change your mind.

that you would walk away and realize this is a mistake, like you would go on and step back, and leave him standing in the wreckage of something that never had the chance to begin. but you don’t.

“i do mean it, you know?” you whisper to him, with a small smile. "trust me, okay?"

he could feel how each word carry the weight of every stolen glance, every unsaid confession, every moment that had led you here. your souls meet in that one gaze, colliding in the space between you, threading together something fragile yet unbreakable.

and so when he leans in slowly, cautiously, like he’s giving you every possible chance to pull away, but you don’t. rather, you didn't want to. instead you smiled at him. you'd waited just as long as him.

instead, you let the moment stretch, let the air between you hum with the tension of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say. his fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to touch you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed. his breath mingles with yours, warm and shaky, a silent plea in itself.

so you close the distance for him. it’s not a desperate kiss, not a collision of lips and urgency. it’s something softer, something reverent.

it was like he’s memorizing the shape of you, like he’s terrified this is all a too good of a dream that will slip through his fingers the second he moves too fast and he would wake up with nothing, without you in his arms.

his hand comes up, hesitant at first, before finally settling along your jaw, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. the touch sends a shiver down your spine, a quiet ache blooming in your chest. you tilt your head, pressing into him, answering his silent question with your own certainty.

and that’s all he needs. the hesitation melts away as he deepens the kiss, his other hand slipping to your waist, pulling you just close enough that he can feel the way your heart is racing.

it was running just as fast as his. everything about this was feeling so overwhelming, so intoxicating. everything about it just feels like it was magical. everything else fades into nothing but this. but him. just it should be.

when you finally pull apart, breathless and dazed, he doesn’t let go. his forehead rests against yours, his fingers still tracing idle patterns against your skin.

“you’re sure?” he asks again, but there’s something different in his voice this time. something softer, like he’s starting to believe you.

you smile, small but certain. “i’ve never been more sure of anything.”

and when he kisses you again, it feels like home.

[tkomptgoedluv]

toothpaste kisses.

joost klein x f! reader

request: “could you write a fic with joost x reader where they get intimate and everything is fine and then the reader starts crying, but not because of sadness, but because of how safe the reader feels in their relationship, how loved he makes the reader feel and etc..(just overwhelmed with positive emotions). a lot of angst, but also a lot of fluff, comfort, happiness… like they dont stop being intimate, they continue and its like the best therapy. also aftercare!!!”

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, established relationship, literally the most in love two people have ever been, like if twin flames are a thing then it’s them, two freaks get freaky but it’s romantic <3, lil sprinkle of angst, lots of hurt + comfort, even more fluff, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 5,496.

warnings: mentions of past abuse, a very very vauge + brief description of sa, smut, rpf.

notes: hello my lovelies!! i hope you enjoy this one just as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 thank you so so much to the anon who requested it, i hope you don’t mind that i put my own lil spin on it!! and also a big thank you to my gorgeous gorgeous @joosthead for already being this fic’s number #1 fan — i love you my junipoo!! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

your fingers itched with the urge to rip out your own hair as you felt your stomach twist itself into another knot.

you’d done this to yourself, completely. you’d gotten yourself into a total, utter mess because you’d seen him again, after so many years of trying to pretend that he never even existed at all.

five years ago, you’d been seeing this guy, this absolute asshole of a man, and it had almost been the death of you. as always with guys like him, the first few months had felt dream-like; he was an angel incarnate and yet somehow, he was all yours. the perfect man, heaven sent, and yours.

you had been so sure of it — you were going to marry this guy one day.

but by the time that those rose-tinted glasses of yours had started to fade and you were finally starting to see him for who he truly was, it was too late. you had just moved to a whole new city for him, left your job for him, cut off each and every single one of your friends for him. “they just wanna see us fail, baby.” he’d said, “you’re better off without them.”

and for far too long, you’d believed that. for almost two years, you had put up with his bullshit willingly, because you’d loved him. even after all of those fights he’d started over nothing, all those things of yours that he’d broken because “it’s either that or i give you a fucking black eye or something.”, you still loved him. you only left once he eventually ran out of things to break and staying true to his word, started putting his hands on you instead.

looking back, that was the only promise of his that he’d ever fucking kept.

being without him had made you realise that you actually knew nothing about where you lived now, even though it had already been years by this point. that was why you had gotten so lost that day, that one and only birthday of yours that you’d spent all on your own.

venturing out of that shitty little studio apartment you used to live in had been brave, considering you had no idea where to go or what to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay indoors anymore. knowing you, it should have been a disaster and it honestly almost was, had it not been for that pretty blond stranger you’d stopped for directions. without him, you probably would’ve ended up god knows where.

luckily for you, though, you just wound up in his bed instead, and three years later you were still there. three years later, you’re celebrating your anniversary with him.

there was never any need for those rose-tinted glasses when it came to joost. no excuses or exceptions that you ever had to make for him. there were no more nights spent crying, locked away in your bathroom, far too afraid to come out because you had no idea what he would do if you did. no more days spent laying in bed because you were still far too sore to move after what he’d done to you the night before.

now your entire life is just travelling around the world with someone you never thought could be real, someone who’s talked you down from just a few too many ledges for you to count, determined to undo all of the damage that the guy before him had done. truly, joost was your best friend; the only person you’d ever met with such a pure heart of gold. the absolutely undisputable love of your life.

and he’d done everything possible to make today as special as he could for you, considering it was obviously also your birthday.

every year you tell him the exact same thing; that the day’s just as much about him as it is you, and that he really doesn’t need to make such a big fuss. and every year he never listens, always clearing out the whole day despite how hectic his schedule always is, just so he can make it all about you. one year he even turned down a spot on a festival lineup because the dates clashed and he deemed you far more important.

earlier in the morning, joost had woken you up with an orgasm so strong that you couldn’t walk for the first hour or two that you were awake. as always, he’d carried you to the bathroom after and gotten you all cleaned up, giggling at how your legs were still shaking, and helped you get ready. you’d laughed with him when he insisted on trying to do your makeup for you too, and had then proceeded to somehow get your eyeshadow everywhere.

cleaning up all of your now pink-stained towels had taken a little longer than expected but you still both made it in time to get breakfast at your favourite cafe. you’d had no idea that booking out an entire section of the place, just for the two of you, was even an option, but that’s exactly what he had done.

then it was back to the marketplace where you’d first met, and joost had let you browse every single one of the stalls. he’d bought you every single little thing that had caught your eye, only stopping when neither of you could carry anything anymore. you’d headed home only once the summer air had started to turn colder and spent the entire uber ride back gushing over the silly girl-stitch plushie he’d bought you in secret, just so you could have one to match his own.

in a way, that was kind of what had led to all of this. why you had gotten yourself so worked up, all teary-eyed and in such a state, whilst joost had you pinned down underneath him.

you really hadn’t seen him in years, not since you’d broken up with him, and he’d looked unrecognisable to you as he’d sat down just a few tables away. because that was just your luck, wasn’t it? seeing your ex at the same restaurant joost had taken you out to for dinner, dressed up all nicely in the suit that you had bought him all those years ago.

from that moment on, you’d been stuck with this dark, bitter feeling that had your stomach tied into all of those knots. your fingers itching with that urge to rip out each and every single strand of hair from your scalp. every bite of your ravioli suddenly started to taste off, almost sour, and you really hadn’t wanted to be there anymore.

it wasn’t because you missed him, because of course you didn’t — not even a little bit. you hated him, despised him actually. you couldn’t stand the very thought of him because for as long as you had been with him, he’d put you through hell and then some. it had taken years of therapy to get to this point where you weren’t having so many nightmares about it all anymore.

it was just that seeing him all of a sudden with someone new, a girl that he was absolutely fawning over, it had done something to you. from the corner of your eye you had seen how he was holding her hand on the table, looking at her with so much adoration that you’d realised that not once had he’d ever looked at you like that. not even once, not even at the beginning.

it never should have bothered you as much as it had. from the inside out, like a parasite, it was eating you alive.

and then joost, in the most wonderful way possible, went ahead and made it all so much worse without even meaning to.

because despite how disappointed he was that you so badly wanted to skip dessert, the milk chocolate cheesecake on the menu having already caught his eye, he’d taken you home the moment you’d asked. he’d been so soft with you as he’d helped you out of your dress, slipping the burgundy silk so carefully down your shoulders and holding your hands as you’d stepped out of your heels. he’d picked you up and laid you down on the bed that you shared as though you’d break if he was too rough, and kissed you everywhere that you’d needed him to.

he already knew that something was wrong — had done since the restaurant because more than anything or anyone else, joost knew you. you weren’t one to ever leave a plate half finished and you’d barely made a dent in your pasta. in a blink of an eye you’d gone from all giddy and energetic to solem, only just about managing to keep up with the conversation that you had been the one to start.

you just weren’t yourself anymore and he had no idea why, so whatever it was that was on your mind, he was going to do everything he could to help you forget about it.

and in the end, it was all too much.

the feeling of joost on top of you, weighing you down as he took such good care of you. the way he was being so unbelievably gentle as he fucked you, his strokes slow but still deep enough to hit all of the right spots. how he was holding himself up with one of his hands as the other grasped your hip and pulled you down onto him with every thrust.

at first it had you whining, mewling, and your nails carving straight lines down the skin of his back. you’d been louder than the creaking of the bed-frame, whimpering sweet, dirty sounds right into his ear. he always loved it when you were vocal like that — he’d told you so the very first time he ever had you caged underneath him like this.

but for the past few minutes you’d fallen uncharacteristically quiet, those near-pornographic moans of yours quickly turning into sniffles as tears began to wet your cheeks.

they weren’t the happy kind. they were the tears that people only ever shed when they’re too caught up inside their own heads.

how kind he was being with you, how kind he always is with you, all it did was remind you of just how safe you are with him. that to joost, you’re something so unbelievably precious and worthy of all this warmth. you’d been so silly earlier to get so upset over your ex, so stupid to have let it almost ruin your evening together.

joost had been too distracted to have heard your first couple of cries, too concentrated on watching it slide in and out to have noticed all of the tears spilling out of your eyes. he was a bit of a perv like that; always will be when it comes to you.

but then he lifted his head up, a grin tugging at the very corners of his lips, desperate to see that doe-eyed, cock-drunk look on your face. he wasn’t expecting to see you look so sad of all things, your eyes already all red and watery as you wept. he stilled immediately and moved his hand from your hip up to brush the hair out of his worried eyes.

“hey, what’s the matter? you okay?”

he hoped to hear you laugh then, reassuring him that you were alright and you were just feeling too many good things all at once. he didn’t like that you tried to hide away from him then, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you mumbled a quiet plea for him to keep going, because you were ‘fine’ and he didn’t need to stop.

“honey, no, you’re crying.” as gently as he could, joost pulled out of you and rolled off, leaning back onto his side of the bed. “what’s going on?”

you were sobbing into your hands now, still laying flat on your back with the duvet all bundled up around your waist. there was still so much of you out on display for him but for a reason that you couldn’t quite explain just yet, letting him see you cry like this felt like far too much. even as he gently tried to pry your hands away, you were fighting to keep them there.

“you’re scaring me, baby. what did i do?”

“no no no, jesus, no, you haven’t done anything, i promise.”

only then did you let him see you, not bothering to stop and wipe your eyes before you dragged him back down to you and curled up as far into him as you possibly could. you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you almost entirely on top of him, letting your legs all tangle together with his own. thick fingers raked through your hair as you laid your head down on his sternum, listening to the strong, heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.

“then what is it, schat? what are you feeling right now?”

a small, blubbering giggle came out when you went to speak, a few more of your tears falling and dampening the blonde hairs on his chest.

“i just…i really love you a lot and i don’t always know what to do with that.”

the short pause that followed had you holding your breath, knowing that he wouldn’t but still expecting him to be at least just a little annoyed with you. with how badly you’d spoiled the moment, you wouldn’t blame him if he was.

“damn, i must be a lot better at the boom-boom than i thought.”

joost couldn’t even finish his sentence without laughing and how you groaned at it, nestling your face in the skin between his pecs, turned that laughter into a high-pitched squeaking.

“joost! i’m being serious.”

“i know, honey, i know, i’m sorry — was just trying to lighten the mood.”

you felt his fingers back in your hair, tucking random pieces behind your ears and brushing loose strands away from your eyes. each movement of his was somehow softer than the last until his hands were cradling your jaw and tilting your head up, your chin resting on his chest.

now that you could see how was he looking at you, with stars all in his eyes and an aching smile on his face, you felt your bottom lip start to quiver again.

“you know i love you too, right? so much.”

the noise that you’d made as you tried to nod your head, a quiet “mhm.” mixed with a sudden, sharp hiccup, made joost laugh again. he swiped each of his thumbs along the very tops of your cheekbones, wiping away all of the water that was still trickling down your face. you were yet to look away so you saw how something in his eyes changed and how that soft smile of his waivered.

“so then why all the tears, baby?”

you stiffened, your muscles tensing under his touch as you finally broke and turned your face away. “i saw koen today — back at the restaurant.”

and just like you had joost also froze, because he knew exactly who koen was; knew every last detail about the guy, in fact. he knew that koen was the reason why you hardly slept during the first few months that you were together, those nightmares of yours keeping you awake for far too many days straight. why you used to never really eat anything, either, because he’d conditioned you to believe that it was somehow ‘unattractive’ if you did. joost also knew that koen was the reason why you’d had hand-shaped bruises around your neck that very first day you’d met.

“that’s why i wanted to leave. as soon as i saw him i just…i couldn’t stay there knowing that he’s not rotting in that shithole apartment like i thought he’d be.”

you took a moment to sit up, the duvet falling off your shoulders as you wiped your runny nose on the back of your hand.

“i know it’s stupid, but seeing him there with a girl and the both of them looking so happy, i just, i never thought that he would change, you know? that he could change, because if so then why not for me? why wasn’t i enough to change for?”

joost copied your movements and sat up as well, taking your hand in his just to play with your fingers as he listened to every word.

“but then you happened, like, you’ve been so perfect to me today, just like how you always are, and it made me think about how lucky i am to have you. i should have never, ever cared, not for a second, about whatever the fuck koen’s up to now because i have you and that’s more than i’ll ever fucking deserve. i meant it when i said i was only crying because i love you too much to know what to do with the feeling -”

your little monologue, your sappy, word-vomit rambling was cut short when joost kissed you hard, his hands holding you steady on either side of your face. as gently as he could he guided you to lay back down, your spine meeting the mattress as his silver chain started to dangle in your face.

this was his way of shutting you up because you were doing it again. you were getting so caught up in the little things, so overwhelmed by your feelings, that you were just upsetting yourself, really. and you do that a lot. for good or for bad, you always let yourself feel such big things that it pulls you apart at the seams sometimes.

like that one morning a couple months ago; you saw a mouse on your walk to work. it’s little pink tail was missing, small clumps of it’s grey fur had been ripped out of it’s skin, and it had just been laying there, unmoving. you’d cried so hard over it that you got sent home before you ever made it in.

or like last year, when joost showed you an early demo of ‘last man standing’ and you’d wept in his arms for god knows how long afterwards. everything he expresses in that song the two of you had talked about before, you knew that was exactly how he felt, yet hearing him sing it had felt far more catastrophic.

“mijn meisje, you don’t ever have to do anything, okay? you’re already ‘it’ — you’re my dream girl.”

with a wobbly bottom lip you nodded, only barely holding yourself together as he grinned down at you, each of his hands beside your head, holding himself up.

“i mean it, baby. can i prove it to you?”

you could have melted right then and there. the way he was talking to you, his voice all low and breathy in your ear as he kissed you up and down your jaw, it was making your head spin. you nodded again, running your hands up and down the skin of his sides until he pulled back a little, that silver chain of his hanging in your face again.

“need to hear you say it, schat. we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“no no, please. i’m alright, please don’t stop.”

sitting up on his knees, joost took each of your thighs in his grasp and pulled you down closer to him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist and resting the other on his shoulder. with that gentle grin still plastered across his face he held his pinky out towards you and wiggled it, his eyes softening when you giggled.

“okay, but if you change your mind at any point, you gotta promise me -”

“- i promise i’ll say something.” you hooked your pinky around his and squeezed it before bringing his hand up to your mouth, planting a kiss across his knuckles.

you were going to be the death of him one day.

letting your head fall back against the bed, a small moan slipped past your lips when joost pushed himself back inside, easing himself in all slow and steady. he left soft, wet kisses along the skin of your calf and drew small circles on your clit as he quickly found his rhythm again.

it was cruel, really, the way he was moving oh-so painstakingly slow — how he was purposefully going too slow because he knew that it would have you like this. sweat already dripping down the sides of your forehead, handfuls of the white bedsheets in a tight grasp, begging him to give you more as you writhed on his cock.

you were just so sensitive to it all, weren’t you? so reactive to each and every single one of his touches. you didn’t exactly make it hard for him to taunt you like this, for him to keep dragging it in and out with a thumb still rubbing circles on your clit, knowing full well what it was doing to you. joost could see just how wound up you were getting, could feel you trying to pull him in closer by your leg that curved around his hip.

“fuck…you’re…you’re being mean, joosti.”

with that smile still firmly on his face he chuckled and stilled inside of you, moving his hand away from your clit to readjust both of your legs. your ankles were resting on his shoulders now, and the warm palms of his hands were caressing the skin of your shins.

“am i, baby? i’m sorry.” he placed another kiss onto each of your calves, his hands trailing down until they were squeezing your thighs. “how do you want it, baby? tell me.”

every muscle in your body clenched then, as a singular, sharp breath caught in your throat.

“h-harder.”

you felt him start to move again, his hips thrusting at that same, agonisingly slow pace.

“yeah? think you can handle it? think you’re ready for the boom-boom?”

the noise you managed to produce, something in between a snort and a cackle, was unlike anything you had ever made before. joost was in utter stitches over it above you, his head thrown back in laughter as he wheezed, tears welling up in his eyes. in a mere matter of seconds, both of your faces were bright red, your laughs turning silent as the pair of you struggled to breathe.

bringing your legs down and your knees up to your chest you wrapped your arms around your stomach, feeling that tightness in your tummy grow the harder you laughed. with your eyes squeezed shut, you hadn’t seen joost make a reach for his phone — hadn’t seen him snap a quick picture of you all red in the face and smiling, before playing the song on full volume.

he could barely hold himself up as he began to sing along, hiccuping over every other word as he giggled.

“this is my boom-boom; my love and desire!”

“no, no stop — you can’t do this.”

shaking your head, you were trying to push him off of you before he tossed his phone to the side and caught your hands, holding them together and keeping you firmly in your place.

“this is my boom-boom; set it on fire!”

“absolutely not! you can’t…you can’t sing that song whilst you’re still inside of me.”

he pouted, feigning a quiver in his lips. “but i haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!”

you tried to be stern, tried to stare him down with a frown on your face and a furrow in your eyebrows, pulling your hands free to cross your arms over your chest. you tried to pretend to be annoyed, but after a single moment of silence, the both of you broke. all over again, you were laughing hard enough for it to hurt.

making another reach for his phone, joost finally turned the song off as you wiped the last few stray tears of joy away from your eyes. you wrapped your legs back around his hips and pulled him down until you could weave your arms around his neck too, and moaned when he immediately attached his lips to that sweet spot of yours behind your left ear.

“hey.” his voice was quiet, coming out all muffled as he sucked, licked, nipped at the skin of your neck. “think you can give me one more?”

you felt him smile against you as you shuddered, your nails digging their way back into his spine. “make it two.”

you were waiting to hear him say it, some kind of sassy remark about how ‘you should be careful what you wish for’ or something along those lines, when he knocked a breath out of you. with a hand now holding one of your knees back as the other stayed beside your head, holding himself up, he slammed his hips against yours over and over again.

the sounds were obscene. you were biting into his shoulder, whimpering and whining from every thrust as other parts of you squelched around him, sucking him in. there was no begging for him to go any faster this time around, not when he was already pounding himself into you hard enough to have the headboard banging against the wall.

you were close to delirium as your eyes rolled back inside your head, the rest of you falling limp against the bed. the air around you was hot, almost too hot, and joost’s warm breath fanning against your neck really wasn’t helping. with how wonderfully out of it you were, you had to grip onto each one of his biceps just to feel as though you were still in the room.

“how you doing, honey? talk to me.” joost was grinning again, having finally parted from your neck now that he had left behind a dozen heart-shaped spots along your pulse-point. “does it feel good?”

he already knew that it did; he could tell simply by the look on your face. that gorgeous, brainless, cock-drunk look that he had been so, so desperate to see all evening.

you only just about managed to cry out his name, having long forgotten every single other word in your vocabulary. your mind was blank besides that because all you could think, all you could feel, was him. you felt him drop your knee and slip a hand underneath the base of your neck, cradling your head as he gave you no other option than to meet his eyes.

“you still with me?”

you couldn’t answer him — couldn’t form a sentence, couldn’t even nod your head ‘yes’. at first it worried him, made him call out your name as he slowed down just the slightest bit, until he felt it. you were squeezing him tighter than you had been all night, your legs all tensed up and shaking, still locked firmly around his waist.

small, babbling noises fell from your lips as your stomach began to twist itself up into a much different knot than before. the crease in your eyebrows deepened, your eyes widening as you stared back at a beaming joost. something inside of you, something new, was building up, and up, and up, and you were doing everything you could to keep it all in, too scared to find out what would happen if you didn’t.

���no no no, baby, shh, no it’s okay.” joost had seen the fear start to creep its way into your eyes, the corners of your lips start to droop down into a frightened little frown. prying it away from his arm, he took one of your hands in his and laced your fingers with his own, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss and your palm a soft squeeze. “i’ve got you, it’s okay. you can let it go.”

you hesitated; the cramping in your tummy making you wince.

“let it go for me, schat.”

and with a squeal, you did. you let whatever that thing was inside of you snap as you screamed out his name, clutching onto his hand tight enough to have both of your knuckles turn white.

the sheets were sodden from where you had gushed all over his cock. your lower back quickly began to feel all warm and damp the longer that you stayed laying in the puddle of your own mess, your legs twitching and your chest still heaving. you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears but joost was talking to you, whispering gentle, saccharine praises as he smoothed your hair back and away from your eyes.

“i’m so proud of you, mijn meisje. look at you — you did so well for me.”

the best you could do was hum in response, your cheeks all wet again from the tears that you hadn’t even realised were falling. though you still managed a small hiss when joost pulled out of you as carefully as he could, still half-hard and leaking from his swollen, red tip. confused, you grabbed his wrist when he sat up and went to reach for his boxers, immediately shaking your head ‘no’.

“but you haven’t…i promised you one more.”

you were so good to him; honestly a little too good. even after all of that, after you’d just given him the biggest ego boost of his life by doing the hottest thing known to man and squirting all on his cock, you were happy to give him more. you were already starting to doze off as you tried to pull his underwear out of his hands but was still so eager to continue, just so he could get off too.

joost just smiled down at you, holding his boxers out of your reach as he bent down to kiss you, his free hand grasping your jaw as he gave you a big ol’ wet smooch right on your lips.

“hey, don’t worry about that, okay? you’ve already done so much, been so perfect for me. just rest now, baby — you’ve earned it.”

by the time that he finished speaking, your eyes were already fluttering close.

you fought your hardest to stay awake as joost took the chance to stand up, only a slight stumble in his step as he slipped back into his underwear and a random pair of sweatpants. in fact, you were so focused on not falling asleep, you hadn’t even noticed that you’d drifted off until you suddenly felt an arm slip underneath your knees and another under the curve of your back.

you hadn’t been out too long, just long enough for joost to have gotten you all cleaned up. with one of the only towels from earlier that he hadn’t managed to stain with your makeup, he’d wiped up whatever mess remained between your legs and helped you into something a lot more clean and comfortable. despite all of the pairs of cute pyjama sets that you own, he’d decided that his old ‘i (heart) joost klein’ t-shirt and nothing else was better.

how you’d stayed asleep through all of it was a mystery to you, usually you weren’t such a heavy sleeper like that. but it had taken joost picking you up off of the bed, holding you tightly to his chest as he carried you out of the room for you to come back around, your eyes heavy with sleep.

“where are we going?”

you yawned and tried to stretch, whining when you felt just how sore and achy your legs really were.

“we’re gonna go for a nap on the sofa, baby — bed’s too messy to sleep in tonight.”

even with how tired you felt, you still felt a pang in your chest. your sofa wasn’t uncomfortable by any means; it was big enough for most of your friends to all sleep on at once and comfy enough for them to not complain about it the morning after. but still, you’d made a mess. ruined a set of perfectly good sheets, probably stained the perfectly good mattress, too.

“sorry.”

“don’t say you’re sorry, oh my god.” joost wasn’t having any of it. if you hadn't of shut your eyes again, you would’ve seen him glance down at you, absolutely bewildered that you felt the need to apologise for such a thing. “i’m not kidding, don’t even try it.”

the soft cotton of the sofa cushion dipped underneath your weight as he laid you down on it, carefully manoeuvring himself beneath you before pulling one of the blankets down, tucking the both of you in. with his chest as your pillow now, you were already barely conscious when you heard him whisper in your ear, his arms wrapping around the dip of your spine.

“love you, goodnight.”

you were going to have to wait until the morning now to get his full, in-depth explanation as to why it was now his mission to have you do what you did tonight, every night.

“love you too.”

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ OH OH, since you’re requests are open, can I request high school au with sukuna (established relationship) where he asks reader out to prom and what they’d do there? 》 ✐ᝰ UHM YES?? I LOVE YOU THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHEH

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

If you ranked Sukuna Ryomen on a list of the classiest men alive, he’d be dead last.

You knew that when you started dating him. Hell, you’d been together for two years now, so if his lack of finesse bothered you, you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.

Which is why you weren’t even surprised when, in the middle of some random conversation, he just told you that you’d be going to senior prom together—like it was already a given. No asking, no buildup, just a casual declaration.

Because in his mind?

It was a given.

It was just a stupid dance, anyway. No need to make a big deal out of it.

Right?

God, he was so wrong.

Now, standing outside your door, waiting to pick you up, Sukuna feels something entirely foreign settle in his chest.

Nerves.

It’s almost pathetic, how anxious he is. Not even during high-pressure games does his heart race like this. At least then, he’s in his element.

This? This is uncharted territory.

Loving someone—hell, even dating someone—always seemed like something that happened in theory. Something that happened to other people.

But he didn’t just love someone.

He was in love with you.

So utterly and completely in love that the very idea of being without you makes him feel like a dead man walking.

You, with your pretty face and knowing smiles. The way your laugh makes his heart do annoying things. Your witty comebacks, your sharp tongue.

You make him feel alive.

And ironically, the second the door swings open—his heart stops.

You are breathtaking.

To be fair, you always are, but—god.

"Holy shit."

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud until you giggle, stepping forward and shutting the door behind you.

Sukuna suddenly feels very grateful you insisted on matching outfits, because with the way you look right now—he’d be damned if you looked like anything but his.

Just the thought makes his feel strange - a good strange - inside.

You’re his.

And he’s yours.

“I… wow,” he mutters gruffly.

You hum, stepping closer, tilting your head in amusement. Teasing him.

“Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow,’ ‘Kuna?”

A large, warm palm finds the small of your back, pulling you in, his lips brushing over yours.

“Definitely good,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips against yours—the first of many tonight.

Some might call you a miracle worker for convincing Sukuna to actually drive to the venue. Because if he had it his way? You’d be heading straight back to his place, where he could have you all to himself.

It’s cute, honestly. The way he grips the steering wheel like it’s the only thing stopping him from devouring you whole. Like if he so much as looks at you for too long, he’ll lose whatever shred of self-control he has left.

You, on the other hand, have no such limitations, happily being the passenger royalty you are.

So you drink him in—the way the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp features, how insanely handsome he looks in his suit.

You were just as whipped as he was.

Just... better at hiding it.

When you arrive, the entrance is already packed with familiar faces, student IDs in hand, waiting to be let in.

Sukuna steps out first, then, to your delight, makes his way around the car to open your door for you.

You giggle at his rare act of chivalry, taking his outstretched hand.

Inside, the venue is stunning—twinkling lights, lavish décor. You definitely have to congratulate your friend on the prom committee for a job well done.

Sukuna, however, could not give less of a shit.

Because while you’re admiring the decorations, he’s admiring you.

The soft, awed expression on your face is worth more than any stupid floral arrangement.

When you glance back at him, his eyes are warm—softer than they ever are in public.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, and he happily obliges, though it takes everything in him not to pull you flush against him and forget the whole damn dance.

When you pull away though, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye.

Oh no.

“‘Kuna~?” you draw out, sing-song.

He groans. He’s screwed.

“Will you dance with me?”

Sukuna just stares at you blankly.

“Fuck no.”

“Pleeeeease?”

Oh, fuck you and your stupid puppy eyes and your perfect face and your perfect everything—he can’t say no to you.

And that’s how he finds himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, awkwardly shuffling while you happily bop along to the music, grinning like this is the best night of your life.

It goes on like this for a while—your poor, hulking boyfriend completely out of his element, staying only because he loves you.

Then—suddenly—the music shifts.

The bass-heavy beats fade, replaced with something slower, softer.

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly as yours light up.

You step toward him, all soft smiles and adoration.

You bow teasingly. “May I have this dance?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. But there’s no real bite. “Ain’t I the one who’s supposed'ta ask ya that?”

You hum as he tugs you closer, his arms encircling your waist, your own draping around his neck. “Maybe… but I like to keep you on your toes.”

He lets out a rare, genuine laugh before kissing you again—deep, slow, tender.

He rests his forehead against yours, voice lower now, softer.

“That you do.”

Your eyes shine, drinking in the way he looks at you.

“And unfortunately for you,” you tease gently, “I always will.”

Sukuna snorts.

“You’re a little shit.”

But you both know he doesn’t mean it.

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHH (that's it, that's all I have to say)

[vyyper]

hallo ! apologies for being an exceptionally random guest (i promise i’m friendly, my blog just isn’t set up yet), but i have a request for you if you’re interested :333

aven/kakavasha x reader. anything, literally anything with him in it—oneshot, hc, whatever…I BEG, there isn’t enough sfw content of him /nf, lmk if this is too general of a req :D

Aventurine Relationship Headcanons

a/n: honestly i could ramble on forever about him... he's one of my very favorite characters. but i restrained myself a bit! not beta read, mostly fluff and me word vomiting

-aventurine takes a long time to get comfortable and really open up to your relationship. vulnerability isn't something that comes easy to aventurine, and love is the most vulnerable thing to him. it terrifies him, how much he cares. surely, someone as awful as him shouldn't dim the light of someone like you. but be tender, be gentle, be patient, and gradually, he'll open up. the way his heart beats faster around you will gradually turn from a feeling he hates to one he loves the most.  

-i think he really is a loverboy through and through once he's able to be open!! showers you in compliments, partially because he likes to laugh at how flustered his flirting makes you, but mainly because he can't say enough how much he admires you. he hasn't had genuine connection in so long, so you're a true reprieve for him. he never wants to let you go, so he'll remind you exactly why as much as possible.

-likes to take pictures of you. he wants to hold onto every memory he can, and he loves to admire you. he likes to take selfies with you or have you pose for the camera, but his favorites are candid photos, ones where you aren't expecting them. there's something so enrapturing about you just being. you sleeping in your bed or on his lap, cooking some breakfast in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone across the couch from him, getting ready for your day...he loves it all. when he's off on some faraway planet, he'll look back at them, to get himself through whatever mission, remind himself he needs to get back to you soon.

-he likes extravagant dates just as much as laid back ones. whether it's whisking you off to a place you've always dreamed of visiting or staying in and binging movies, holding you close on the couch, he enjoys all time spent with you.

"i heard this movie's a bit of a scary one, so if you want to hold onto me i'll protect you...hey, don't glare at me! i'm just concerned, that's all..."

(the movie in question is a g-rated animated film. teasing little shit. you cling onto him anyway though to make him happy.)

-a bit of an unpopular opinion, but i think that while aventruine spoils you on dates, and also buys you plenty of things, one of his favorite ways to show affection even more than money is little acts of service. he does love to spoil you!! but his money is also a bargaining chip, and he has so much of it that spending on you too excessively wouldn't feel as genuine in his mind.

-so he does things for you. he loves to cook for you, for one. when he has the time he'll spend hours perfecting your favorite dishes. the kitchen is lively as smells drift through the air, warmth radiating from the stove as you two buzz with lively conversation. he'll call you over and spoon feed you a taste to make sure he's making it the way you like it, giving you a soft peck and swiping the extra at the corner of your mouth with his thumb after. there's something so tender about seeing your smile as you eat his meals, knowing it energizes you and makes you happy, warms you. It comes from his hard work, his hands, all for you, and he adores it.

he wears a silly kiss the chef apron and goes "i think you should listen to what the apron says and reward me, hm?" after he finishes. you roll your eyes hard but do it anyway, and he feels your smile against his lips.

-he also loves to do things like help you with your hair or run you baths or your laundry. if he happens to be home while you're at work, sometimes you'll come back to a super clean house, chores all done. you'll thank him a bunch then scold him for working on his day off, but he just laughs and silences you with a kiss before running you a bath. he'll happily let you reward him by washing his hair and rubbing his shoulders in the tub, though.

-that doesn't at all mean he won't spend on you though!! he loves spoiling you! i just think he won't overwhelm you with random, massive gifts. he'll buy you little trinkets that reminds him of you, get you some clothing from a brand you mentioned, restock your perfume/cologne, buy jewelry with gems in your favorite color, that kind of stuff. the price is never a problem, but he makes sure it's stuff you actually want, makes sure the gifts are personal.

-he buys you flowers a lot. will get you new ones as soon as the previous have wilted. if he's been away? he gets you a whole mini garden's worth to make for the weeks he's been gone

your jaw drops at the sheer amount he got you. you know he missed you, but nothing could have prepared you for this.

"what's that shocked look for? is it not enough? well, i can always get you more, if you really insist..."

he laughs when you shake your head rapidly and tell him absolutely not.

-speaking of being away, it KILLS him. he hates his job already and he misses you so bad!! texts you often, checking in on you and updating you and complimenting you and sending you money. prefers calling you when he gets the time because he wants to actually *talk*, will ask you to just ramble about whatever because he misses the sound of your voice :(

-aventurine's very physically affectionate. he almost always has his hands on you somehow. it's a way for him to show his love but also a way for him to reassure himself that you're really there, that you love him too.

-swings your arms when you walk together, holding hands. he'll feed you a bite of his food on dates, give quick little pecks, dangle his jacket on your shoulders, slide an arm around your waist.

-in the comfort of your home he's allll over you. wakes you up with a kiss, brushes his teeth while you brush yours with your sides pressed together. he'll always have an arm or two wrapped around you. he'll come up behind you and slide the shoulder of your shirt down so he can pepper kisses there, laughing when you let out a surprised yelp. he'll stay there, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, before taking your hand and dragging you to hang out with him on the couch

-loves cuddling. it's his favorite way to be with you. your head in his lap, a lazy arm wrapped around you, you lying on top of him, his head resting on your shoulder, spooning, sitting on his lap with your forehead pressed to his. sny and all of it, any and all of you. i think he has his favorites, though. he likes to rest on your chest, just by your heart, or bury his face in your neck, lips resting softly against your pulse. your heartbeat is the best sound, the best feeling in the world to him. steady, reassuring, a reminder that you're alive.

-shares his jewelry with you. helps you put it on, clasping necklaces and sliding on rings and bracelets. he'll admire you with the sweetest smile, tell you how beautiful you look.

"you're gorgeous...maybe i should just let you keep it all. it suits you better than me, anyway."

-he loves going to bed with you. He sleeps so much better with you by his side. sleep is when people are most delicate, most unguarded, so to be able to sleep with you is a sign he really trusts you. he HAS to be holding you in some way, whether it's pressing as close together as possible for warmth under heavy covers or a loose arm over you if it gets too hot.

-he doesn't usually have pleasant dreams. often he'll wake up in a cold sweat, or to you gently shaking him because you heard him talking in his sleep, and you couldn't stand to hear the tremble in his voice. he's mortified when it happens, but he grows relieved to have you near for it, even if he can never shake the embarrassment fully. sometimes he does need to be alone after it, excusing himself to another room if you're also up, thankful when you nod in understanding. but usually, he needs you. and you'll respond. you'll whisper reassurances, kiss his forehead and rub his back, securing him safely in your arms. he listens to your soft breaths and falling back asleep comes a bit easier. everything comes a bit easier with you guiding him through it.

-i think he loves his forehead and cheek and shoulder kisses, but he loves to kiss your wrist or the pulsepoint on your neck. again, he cherishes those signs that you're with him, and they're some of your most vulnerable spots, so he wants to show them the most love.

-loves kissing you on the lips too though for sure! your mouth is another thing he adores, your smiles and laughter and all the words that spill from them. whether it's quick pecks or making out, he loves it all the same.

-he just cherishes you so much :(( when he's finally comfortable enough to tell you he loves you, he'll start doing it frequently, as much as he can. it takes a while for him to get to that point but stay with him and he'll grow more open with you

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I give sporadic updates so here’s one for you, and as always I clump all my latest stuff together.

The Rook x Reader fanfic is already 17k words and I’m not even fully to Chapter 6 now. There’s a lot of question marks on how far and detailed I should go for a few scenes, specifically Vil’s speech and subsequent introduction of the VDC crew to the audience. It’s important to the plot, but idk how much I should add. I have to add a questionable Vil moment in the part that has “Mira Mira” too. Now I have to move on to Chapter 6 which hopefully this section isn’t too too long. It’s hard to keep up the motivation but I’m spurred by my desire to give this fic to u guys. It’s amazing so far!! I have a fun time reading it lol and some of my friends too!

It will be fantastic when it’s out. It’s my baby.

I had another idea Rook x Reader fic! I can also make a Vil x Reader using the same concept and take it a different direction. I’m referring to it as “Role Reversal”

I’m recycling something that I created for the Rook x Observant Reader. I had to make a whole ass outline for a movie plot that Vil would star in. I thought it would be fun if there’s a director who comes to NRC and wants to use the students to film a movie or whatever. As always, Vil gets cast as the villain. However, he accepts it because he cares about the director, production, and storyline or whatever. No one else can play the villain as well as he can, so he’ll do it.

The director sees Reader and goes “you! Let me see how you fair in this character.” The character is the protagonist and you nail it multiple times. You become the director’s favorite low key. However, you read the script and go “bro, the villain is way cooler. I wanna play the villain.” You glance up at Vil, who doesn’t want to play that role and go, “I think I can make this work.”

Then you proceed to absolutely obliterate everyone’s expectations by being the perfect villain. Like, it’s better than Vil’s, which is saying something. However, you insist that Vil should be in the protagonist instead.

He’s confused but doesn’t questions it. You help him be the main character and help him as a person along the way.

Regardless of if it’s Vil or Rook, it works. I’ll adjust the romance as needed lol.

I’ve also been working on Silver’s “Dreaming of You” fanfic, which is fun. I definitely have to cut some of the original dialogue down and alter it. Usually when I do this, it isn’t as straightforward as it has been with this. The Reader is just very encouraging and empathetic. They’re strong in an emotional sense and always stand up for themselves or others, including Silver. There’s a lot of compliments that our knight has to get used to.

There’s also a great moment where you show and tell Malleus you’re scared of him which is so good and low key angsty, but in the best way. I like telling people off when they’re hurting people lol.

Also I’ve had an idea for Rook’s “Dreaming of You.” Can you tell who my favorite character is? Anyway, I have an idea for him that I’m working on. However, it’s not fully fleshed out. I’m trying to decide how Rook acts in this. I won’t spoil anything though lol

I just started tampering and working on Azul’s “Dreaming of You,” which is great so far. I really like it. However, I want to make sure that it’s longer since I like longer fanfics. It’ll probably have to continue into the Savanaclaw section, fleshing out their relationship. I love Azul so I want to make sure he has more screen time lol.

I have to go back and watch some moments toward the end of his dream. I remember how to tweel’s act really callous, but I don’t remember what happens before then. I’ll have to do that.

That’s all for the update now. I’ll probably post the segment I have for the Rook x Reader — Role Reversal just because I like it lol. I’ll probably post it in the next few minutes lol

[snail-day]

Inked: Daddy's Girl

Tattoo Artist! Sukuna x Reader

Previous // part 3 // masterlist

WC: 3k

TW: Yandere Behaviors (possessive & manipulation), Very Toxic Established Relationship, Mean/Jealous Sukuna, Dubcon/Noncon themes, Big Age Gap (Reader is twenties, Sukuna is pushing forty) , Oral m!receiving, Rough sex, use of piercings. Use of Daddy.

A/n: Was going to do Toji instead but...I don't think Toji would like to be called daddy gives him like ptsd

Tattoo Artist Boyfriend!Sukuna who’s rough around the edges - hell, he's nothing but rough edges. Sharp tongue, inked hands, always smells like cigarette smoke and motor oil. He’s the kind of man people glance at twice: once in curiosity, and once in warning. Definitely not the kind they expect to see with someone like you.

You, with your young pretty voice and starry eyes. Barely in your twenties, still figuring yourself out - meanwhile, Sukuna’s pushing forty and already decided you’re his, even if your parents kicked your sweet ass out the house.

He doesn't know how he managed to get you wrapped around his finger. Some nights, he looks at you curled against his chest and thinks you should know better. Thinks you’ll wise up one day.

But not today. Not when you're clinging to his arm like he's gravity. Not when you sit pretty beside him at late-night yakuza dinners, decked out in silk, lip-gloss, and shy little smiles. The Zenin boys tease him for it.

“Robbing the cradle, huh, Ryo?” Teasing him in-betwen sips of beer, if they weren't clients he'd be knocking their eyes out for gawking at your chest. They just love watching what's his. What keeps his bed warm at night. Watching the way you lean into him like you don’t hear a word. He just grins in response - sharp and cocky -tightening his burley-inked arm around your waist.

“Jealous?” he fires back, and lets his hand rest just a little too low. Palm hitching up the hem of your mini dress, enjoying the way you hide your warm cheeks, muttering to stop. It's cute really. Like a little bunny.

Sometimes - rarely - he thinks about how he’s your first for almost everything. Your first boyfriend. First kiss. The first man to touch you like that. That he probably shouldn’t have taken so much from someone so soft, so new.

But then he always remembers the way your body folds for him, soft pliant skin for his roughened hands, how your voice breaks when you moan his name, how you cry when you come - clinging to him like he’s the only thing that makes you feel real. Any hint of guilt burns away. You were too young to know what you needed.

Lucky for you, he did.

Yeah, you’re young. Sweet. Barely know what the hell you’re doing.

But you’re his.

Can’t just be letting go of a perfect little cunt that milks his cock every night. It does something to him, makes him think, just for a second, that maybe he actually loves you.

So it’s not exactly something he plans on fixing anytime soon.

He likes being your first for most things.

Except your first tattoo.

You weren’t stepping foot into his shop. Sukuna’s old school - heavy lines, bold color, blackwork sleeves and dragon back pieces that take twenty hours. Not some dainty little butterfly above the hip. That’s not his style, and he told you flat-out: “I ain’t doing none of that delicate princess shit.”

Besides, he knows you. Knows how you squirm and pout, whine and wriggle at the slightest sting. The brat in you would turn a two-hour session into four, just for attention. (Not that he doesn’t enjoy putting you in your place, but not with gloves on and a machine buzzing in his hand.)

So he didn’t care where you went. Really. As long as the work was clean and they didn’t leave a mess on your skin, he wasn’t gonna throw a fit.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

But then you came home. Face glowing, bandage peeking out from under your cute little top, practically bouncing as you beamed, “Look! It’s done!”

Of course he was gonna have a look. Had to make sure they didn’t botch it. Had to check the lines, the shading, the healing wrap. Make sure you weren’t upcharged just for being sweet-faced and clueless.

But when you peeled back the wrap, soft skin shining, ink still fresh - his red eyes narrowed. It was pretty. Clean. Finer than he expected. What kind of prissy-ass artist did you go to for this kind of work?

Then he looked closer. And his lip curled. Hidden in the curve of a line. Subtle. Too subtle for you to notice. But he noticed. Of course he did. Only an experienced artist would catch it.

Someone marked their fucking claim.

The rough pad of his thumb brushed over it like he was double-checking. Like maybe he imagined it.

He didn’t.

G.S. Right there swirled into the shading.

His stare went flat.

Geto.

The Gojo clan’s favored pretty boy. Well besides the yakuza clan head. Though Geto, the soft-spoken, smirky bastard with his fancy upscale studio and staged Instagram shots. The one blowing up online with dotwork and minimalist florals like tattooing was some kind of aesthetic lifestyle brand instead of a craft.

Who the fuck puts plants in a tattoo studio and cares about natural lighting?

Geto’s only been featured twice. Meanwhile, Sukuna has been praised, published, and respected for years. He told you that. Told you which artists were safe. Gave you a list. Vetted portfolios. Studios run by pastel-haired girls with gentle hands and sterile tools.

He expected you to go to one of them.

Not to Geto fucking Suguru.

And now that signature’s engraved into your skin.

Of course, Sukuna wasn’t going to throw a fit - not to you, no, no. You’re just his sweet little babe who wanted to look all cool for her older boyfriend that clearly all your friends hate. Catching onto how you're babbling on and on about how Utahime has been friends with Geto. He gets it. Wanted to surprise him, maybe impress him a little. That pretty head of yours wasn’t thinking about hidden signatures or rival artists marking their claim. You were just excited.

And besides, he didn’t have the time to deal with it. He had a full backpiece to draw up for some cocky kid in the Zenin clan, and frankly? He had better things to focus on.

Like the way you look when you’re under his desk, mouth stretched and drooling around his cock while he sketches between grunts and praise. You always find the perfect way to “help” him work.

So, no, he didn’t bring it up. Didn’t mention the initials, or how Suguru must’ve known exactly who you belonged to when he etched those tiny letters into your skin.

But when Sukuna came home from his three-day trip? He wasn’t exactly expecting you to be bashful.

He wasn’t expecting this.

You’re not lounging on the leather couch of his apartment, not curled up in his bed, not running into his arms like you usually do the second he comes back from a trip. You’re in the hallway - half-hidden behind the doorframe like a guilty little bunny, wrapped up in the sheer silk robe he bought you for Valentine’s. The one that barely covers anything. The one he told you was “just for Daddy’s eyes.”

Thin as mist, the sheer fabric clinging to your body, doing nothing to hide the swell of your breasts or the slight stiffness of your nipples pressing through the fabric.

His red eyes narrow into slits.

“You gonna come greet Daddy properly or what?” he drawls, voice low and rough from travel, tinged with irritation, but there's that dangerous gleam in his red eyes. The kind that always means he knows something’s up.

You step out slowly. Bare feet soft against the floor. Fingers nervously tangled in the belt of your robe.

“I… I have a surprise for you, Kuna.”

Sukuna raises a pink brow, drops his duffel on the couch with a heavy thud.

“Yeah?” he says, stepping toward you. “Better be worth the fuckin’ wait.”

You nod, eyes wide and shimmering with anticipation. Then, with trembling fingers, you untie the robe.

It slips from your shoulders and slides down your arms, pooling at your feet.

His gaze drags over your body like smoke, slow and burning with lust.

And then he sees them.

Two silver barbells pierced neatly through your nipples, still pink from the needle, skin taut and freshly marked. They're healing. They're new.

They're not from him.

Sukuna goes completely still.

He steps forward. Then again. Close enough for you to smell the leather and cigarette smoke on his jacket, that manly scent that always makes your head spin. You try to speak - try to explain, defend yourself, maybe soften whatever expression has just settled across his face - but he silences you with nothing more than a sharp grin.

“Well, well…” he mutters, voice dropping low as his hand lifts. “Look at you. Princess is getting a little bold now.”

He cups one breast, rough palm warm over your soft skin. His thumb brushes lightly over the metal, and you flinch, just enough to make his grin widen.

“Still sore?” he asks, all faux sweetness.

You nod quickly, lip trembling. His palm tightens. His other hand lifts too, thumb and forefinger teasing the other barbell, rolling it with ease. Just enough pressure to sting. Just enough to make you gasp, one of his favorite little sounds.

“And who did it?” he asks, even though he already knows. He remembers that offhand little story you told him before he left, how Geto had mentioned piercings. How you’d laughed about it, brushing it off like nothing.

The question isn’t for confirmation.

It’s for you.

For a sweet little thing who should know better.

“Geto,” you whisper, like maybe saying it quietly will make it sting less.

Sukuna laughs. A quiet, mean sound that transforms to an amused hum, stepping closer, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Geto’s real fuckin’ bold, huh? Touching my girl’s tits. Thought he could leave his little signature and poke you full of steel?”

His tongue clicks. “Tch. Should’ve come to me, princess. You know I would’ve done it for you.”

You shiver, lashes fluttering, bottom lip caught in your teeth. He leans in, his mouth dragging over your jaw, hot breath curling against your skin.

“You let him touch you here?” His thumb presses down - hard - on the piercing, and a whimper escapes. “Let him roll these sweet little tits around in his hands? Let him make you flinch? Cry a little?”

You try to shake your head, but your voice is stuck somewhere between shame and arousal.

“Don’t worry,” he croons, fingers now rolling both piercings between calloused fingertips. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t know any better.”

His voice drops to a whisper, soft and vile.

“Didn’t know Daddy would’ve loved to watch your eyes go glassy from the sting. Bet Geto was real gentle, huh? Took his time. Spoke to you nice. What a good little professional.”

You make a small, wounded sound clearly embarrassed, overwhelmed and it only makes him grin grow wider. His hand slides behind your neck, firmly, guiding you to look up at him.

“But now I gotta clean up his mess.” Pressing his forehead to yours, eyes locked on yours, the air thick and hot and possessive. “Now I gotta remind you who the fuck you belong to.”

His hand slips to the back of your hair, rough fingers curling tight, guiding you through the hallway, you’re something he owns and he expects you to understand that. You follow without resistance, robe forgotten on the floor, the cool air brushing your bare skin, making your new piercings ache.

He leads you to the full-length mirror in the bedroom - the one he usually watches you through when he’s got you bent over the edge of the bed, when he wants you to see what you do to him.

But this time? He positions you in front of it. Chest bare. Legs trembling. Face flushed.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, settling behind you, one hand on your hip, the other sliding slowly up your stomach. “Real proud of yourself, huh?”

You try to shake your head, stammer something soft and along the lines of that it was a gift of sorts, but he shushes you with a low hum, nose brushing the side of your neck.

His hand moves higher.

Fingers ghost over one of the barbells, tugging just enough to make you gasp, watching your reflection as your eyes flutter and your lips part.

“Pretty little things,” he murmurs, rolling the piercing between thumb and forefinger. “Too delicate for my style, but you do wear them well.”

He pinches, just a bit harder, and your breath catches. His voice is right against your ear now.

“You let him touch you here? Mark you up while you squirmed on his table?” A small chuckle. “Bet you made those same little sounds too. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Your throat tightens.

“Say it,” he presses, watching you in the mirror. “Tell me what he did.”

You blink up at your reflection, lips trembling. “He… he touched me.”

“Where?”

“M-my chest.”

“Like this?” Sukuna’s palm covers your breast completely now, fingers digging in, his thumb brushing over the piercing again, gentler this time - a rare softness. “Was it like this, baby?”

“N-no,” you breathe, eyes glassy. “Not like that. It wasn’t like this.”

That pleases him. You feel it in the way his mouth presses against your neck, the low grunt that rumbles from his chest.

“No,” he agrees, “’Cause he’s not the one you fuck at night.” His other hand comes up, cupping your other breast now, both pierced nipples under his control, sore and swollen and so, so sensitive. He massages slowly, never breaking eye contact with your reflection.

“You know who they belong to now, don’t you?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“They’re yours,” you whisper, barely audible. Tears clinging to your lashes as you force yourself to look at his red eyes that seem to be holding you in place.

A low growl escapes his throat, satisfied. “Damn right they are.” And then he’s guiding you down to your knees - still in front of the mirror - because he wants you to see exactly what happens to bad little girls who let another man mark their body.

He doesn’t even have to say it - you sink to your knees for him like it’s instinct. Like your body already knows what to do when he gets like this. Your knees press into the hardwood floor, cold against bare skin, as Sukuna stands behind you, gaze fixed on your reflection. His fingers thread through your hair, slow and firm, guiding your face toward his belt.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he mutters, voice rough, thumb dragging across your cheek. “You’re gonna watch yourself while I fuck your mouth - see what it looks like when someone who owns you uses what’s his.”

Your fingers tremble as you reach up to undo his belt, and he lets you, watching the way your hands shake with anticipation. When you pull him out, thick and hard, already leaking for you, he even got a special tattoo just for you. A black thick line at the base of his cock. So that way your pretty little mind knows where to stop everytime.

“Open,” he commands, and you do, lips parted, tongue flat, eyes wide, flickering to the mirror and up at that toothy grin of his.

He slides in slow at first, letting you feel the heavy weight of him on your tongue, but the second your eyes flick up in the mirror - watery, pleading, already so full of him down the column of your throat, his control cracks.

His grip tightens in your hair.

“You’re gonna choke a little,” he chuckles, voice a rasp as his grip tightens around your hair, roughly shoving the full length down, ignoring your choking gags as you tap his thigh for air, nails digging into the skin. “But you’ll take it. You let another man touch what’s mine, so now you’re gonna earn me back.”

He starts moving - hips rolling slow but deep, the kind of pace meant to leave a bruise in your throat. You gag, whimper, spit starting to drip down your chin, but your eyes stay locked on the mirror like a good girl, watching yourself get undone.

“Look at that,” he snarls, fucking deeper. “Suguru ever see you like this? With tears in your eyes and cock in your throat?”

You make a wet, broken sound around him, and he grins.

“That’s right. He didn’t. And he won’t.”

He pulls out with a wet pop, letting you gasp for air, tears streaking your cheeks, spit clinging to your chin. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s hauling you to your feet and bending you over the vanity - hands pressed to yet another mirror, cheek against the glass.

“See those piercings?” he murmurs, grinding his cock against your ass. “They’re cute. Real cute. But you know what they’re missing?”

You sob out a weak “W-what?”

“My fucking bite marks.”

And when he pushes in, rough, hard, and possessive, it knocks the air right out of your lungs. Your pierced nipples brush the cold mirror, sending sharp little zings through your chest, while his hands anchor hard around your waist, pulling you back to meet every punishing thrust.

“Keep your eyes up,” he growls when your head starts to drop, hands reaching for some form of stability, silent looks into his gaze to slow down because the words refuse to escape your throat. “Wanna see your face while you cry for me.”

But he doesn’t let up. Why would he? Not even when you’re shaking. Not even when you’re babbling his name, your voice cracking between broken gasps. He fucks you until your legs give out, until the mirror is fogged with your breath, until your thighs are sticky, your skin bruised, and your pretty new piercings ache under the press of his chest.

You’re a mess, hair all tangled, makeup smeared, barely able to hold yourself up as he stays buried inside you, one large hand stroking over your hip like he’s trying to soothe you. As his cum threatens to spill out of your pulsing walls. His forehead rests against the back of your neck, breath hot, voice low and full of gravel when he finally whispers:

“Next time you want something pierced… you come to me. Got it?”

A weak nod in response, a soft, fucked-out “yes” falling from your lips. Before he's picking you up in his arms.

Neither of you hear the soft chime of your phone from where it sits charging on the nightstand, screen lighting up with a new message.

💜 Geto 💜: How are the new piercings? Did your boyfriend like them? 😊 I remember you mentioned needing a job while you’re in school - turns out I have an opening. Just desk work lol :) Message me if you’re interested.

Taglist: @the-proper-possum

[hitlikehammers]

so maybe steve strikes a bargain with unknown eldritch upside down gods in exchange for eddie’s life, what of it? ♥️ the hell else was he supposed to do, don’t even judge him ✨what’s a hades/persephone kinda deal among soon-to-be-more-than-friends, anyway?✨

✨future fic (because somehow steve signed them up to be 💫star-crossed-adjacent guardians of the seasons ❄️☀️ or some shit)

but they’re canny motherfuckers; they can make the arrangement bearable their own

(kind of.)

They’d been lucky. They’d been lucky that Steve had come back on his own to the boathouse that first night. Had talked Eddie down, made sure he wasn’t alone—held him, a stranger at best, a pariah at worst, and never once shamed him, fucking soothed him when he couldn’t fight tears. They’re lucky that the walk through the woods somehow short circuited any remaining shred of sense in him, or maybe shocked it into overdrive as he’d grabbed Steve behind a tree thick enough to hide from either of their compatriots turning around and catching it, catching them when he carefully—those bats hadn’t been kind—but a little bit crazedly pressed Steve against the fragile-rotting bark, where Steve stilled, stared, and then closed the distance between them.  Eddie’d had his taste on his lips right up ‘til the end. Not even his own blood had taken it from him at the last.  He’d felt death, though, like a limbo, a haze rather than a darkness, a liminal fog and he’d screamed, he hadn’t felt quite alone, even before a voice echoed: “We are freed from him now.” Eddie’d shouted questions long after his throat started stinging for it, before realizing the echoing voice hadn’t been talking to him; most especially when he’d felt warmth in inexplicable places in the form he’d been walking around in that he wasn’t wholly sure was even really and truly a body, but then— “You can’t take him.” Eddie turned, knew it fruitless to try to find the source but it hurt so bad because that voice was absolutely tortured, and it was— It was Steve. Or: of course Steve bargains with the ancient eldritch deity beings of the Upside Down for Eddie’s life. And maybe they end up some ill-defined guardians of the seasons in weird Persephone-style twist as a result. What the hell else was he supposed to do?

rating: m ♥️ tags: post-S4, everyone loves, getting together, magical realism✨, established relationship, future fic, of course steve makes a bargain with the eldritch ancient god being things in the upside down to save eddie’s life, what ELSE what he going to do?, don’t even pretend to judge him, eddie and steve become ✨guardians of the seasons✨, it’s a task they definitely make their own, very Persephone coded, fluff, romance, softness, let me repeat that last one: SOFTNESSSSSS ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-one: “If you remember me, then I don't care if everyone else forgets.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“How can you even stand it?” Dustin whines, his leg bouncing frantically as he tries to hide how he’s scanning the edges of the park for any hint; and sign: “If Suze and I—

“You’re missing him hard, aren’t you?”

Eddie asks it from behind his sunglasses—how bright the glare sparkles off the ice is the outward sign that it could be today, that it could possibly happen today; but for Eddie, there’s no need for the kinds of hints that drove Dustin to his door, bouncy and frantic, anything but the impressive computa-chemical-whatever-nerdy-as-fuck-genius-level professional he’s grown into, with his own mini-brood of Hendersons, no: he’s immediately fifteen years old again asking Maybe today, could he maybe come today, is it close enough, like, not on the calendar but sometimes he shows up unexpected, right, so maybe today—

It would be unexpected; it’s late January. Far too early, by rights. But again: Eddie doesn’t need any outward signs.

Ever since it started, ever since the deal was struck with powers beyond their ken, with sense beyond their grasp or even want of it: they’d neither of them wanted sense if it could have cost them the chance at this, it’s just—

It’s hard, still. Easier every year but: hard. Eddie thinks it’ll always be hard. He loves too deep, like this, for even a breath without to be less than a tiny agony.

But fuck if he’d trade it for anything.

They’d been lucky. They’d been lucky that Steve had come back on his own to the boathouse that first night. Had talked Eddie down, made sure he wasn’t alone—held him, a stranger at best, a pariah at worst, and never once shamed him, fucking soothed him when he couldn’t fight tears. They’re lucky that the walk through the woods somehow short circuited any remaining shred of sense in him, or maybe shocked it into overdrive as he’d grabbed Steve behind a tree thick enough to hide from either of their compatriots turning around and catching it, catching them when he carefully—those bats hadn’t been kind—but a little bit crazedly pressed Steve against the fragile-rotting bark, where Steve stilled, stared, and then closed the distance between them.

Eddie’d had his taste on his lips right up ‘til the end. Not even his own blood had taken it from him at the last.

He’d felt death, though, like a limbo, a haze rather than a darkness, a liminal fog and he’d screamed, he hadn’t felt quite alone, even before a voice echoed:

“We are freed from him now.”

Eddie’d shouted questions long after his throat started stinging for it, before realizing the echoing voice hadn’t been talking to him; most especially when he’d felt warmth in inexplicable places in the form he’d been walking around in that he wasn’t wholly sure was even really and truly a body, but then—

“You can’t take him.”

Eddie turned, knew it fruitless to try to find the source but it hurt so bad because that voice was absolutely tortured, and it was—

It was Steve.

It was Steve and Eddie recognized the warmth, then: his body on the ground being cradled close so his still-cold chest touched a living one, arms around him, and he’d reached with his own version of a hand to trace the feeling.

“We killed Vecna, we set you free. You cannot take him.”

Oh, Steve.

Eddie was right, in all that he’d wondered if he was being fucking insane even by his measure, to think he could love this man, maybe even already was a little by the time they’d parted ways. But after what he hears?

And then piecing it all together, Steve fighting something that trembled otherworldly in the air for the sake of keeping Eddie like Eddie was worth it. Like Steve cared that much.

Time passed, and then the voice had come through clearer; something shook in Eddie’s chest like an echo, and the sick taunt of a pulse to a corpse:

“This nature has been perverted. Abused. It has been tied for purposes indefensible and profane to another realm. You will take guardianship of the tempers of your dimension, in exchange.”

Eddie’d been pretty fucking sure that the words had meant as little to Steve as they had to Eddie himself, but Steve hadn’t let more than a second pass before he was all in:

“Done.”

And Eddie had gasped in a breath more painful than he’d recalled death being in the first place, save that this time it’s soothed by the way he blinks to waking with Steve’s hands on his face, fingers trailing to his neck to check his pulse thrown back to racing—mostly?

Just…Eddie’s coming to find that most things are soothed, made bearable by the fact of Steve Harrington.

Back to the point though: since the very beginning, opening his eyes when he thought he’d never do something so mundane, so human, so alive even again, and to the sight of an angel’s face at that, tear-streaked and staring at him and him alone: Eddie didn’t need tangible proof to know, coiled and warm behind his sternum, that change was on the air.

And they’d both absorbed the terms spoken only to them—a fact they later discovered, annoyingly, in trying to explain to everyone else—that they were in charge of keeping watch of the seasons, and naturally, then, they’d be apart for the work of it most of the year. Steve watching summer, Eddie manning winter—save for the middle-grounds; the overlaps inside the ends of autumn and the beginnings of spring—windows they’d know innately, though how?

Fuck if they understood the mechanics of it all.

It was heartbreak. It was a miracle.

They would have until that year’s autumn equinox to prepare for…for maybe always.

“Like Hades and Persephone,” Robin had said, horrified and marveling in equal measure, gripping hard to Steve’s hand.

“Seems worse, though,” Dustin had chimed in—typical. “Like it’d be less time, depending on what counts as overlap.”

Eddie and Steve had…not disagreed. And had made the most of the embers of what they’d started to feel in the boathouse, in the Upside Down: they leapt without looking, and fell fast—the way Steve did too often, but never like this before; the way Eddie had quietly daydreamed about every so often, all the while knowing it could never be for him.

Eddie—then to now—doesn’t think anyone ever expected the thing they make for themselves, for each other, in those scant months, when they imbued so much, trusted hearts and souls to a word as small as love.

And when the time came, and they parted—they were neither of them ever unoccupied, they realized quick, Steve feeling physically pulled across the fucking equator all the stronger by the day: but when the time came?

Dying hurt worse. Eddie swears it without a fucking ounce of doubt in him, no hesitation.

It’d been a bleak fucking season.

But they’d both known their share adversities, if dressed up different across time. They weren’t…they mourned, for a little while.

But then Eddie, in the dead of his own winter, found a bright bouquet of fresh wildflowers he’d never seen before his doorstep, from fields he’d never set foot upon.

He can remember, just in closing his eyes and breathing in, how his heart had leapt; had hoped, and he’d—

“Why can’t we take a day?”

Eddie can hold his breath and relive it right now, just how that voice had stolen the air from his lungs as he’d stood just past the solstice, so much time left before he could even hope to see the other half of his fucking heart—how he’d spun toward the sound of it but was dizzy already before he moved a single inch, how he’d slowed the distance and crashed into Steve’s waiting arms, the steady strength of his welcoming chest with enough force to shake his own heart into beating with real gusto, with an intent he hadn’t realized so so dimmed, maybe wholly snuffed out in these months without.

He hadn’t questioned the how—plane, just a plane on the credit card he still had from his dad’s account, probably a one-time opportunity but worth it, more than, and proof that they could split the difference of the time, they could find ways, make money, spend all of it on how they needed each other now just to be able to breathe right.

“We have to keep the bargain,” Steve had always held, the steel in his gaze something Eddie knew in his bones not to question even at the start, especially not when it was followed by the kinds of kisses that convinced Eddie that a human soul was a real thing, for how it got teased from his throat, tongue to tongue.

“That can’t possibly mean there isn’t any,” Steve had gasped, just as sure and unwavering, but the steel giving way to a neediness, a softer resolve, if still just as unshakable: “any flexibility.”

Eddie couldn’t have agreed more.

And it hadn’t been easy, especially not out the gate; but they’d learned. They’d both left tokens, Steve leaving flowers, Eddie bringing holly and pine, surprising Steve on hot days with icy hands on his shoulders when he packed snow in a cooler just for the sake of the bit; Dustin had found out further into their working through a balance and had declared that—

“That’s like,” he’d frowned, less from distaste and more from actually to puzzle out something unexplainable: “long-distance flirting but, metaphysical? Meteorological?”

Eddie had been the one to hear that dedication with his own ears and had felt distaste, forbade Dustin on the spot from speculating before he got to—

“Primal-magic phone-sex on steroids,” Dustin had muttered himself and yep. That.

Before he got to that.

He’d shared it with Steve, who was as entertained and appalled as Eddie in fairly equal measures, but had made a point come his own time in Indiana again to impress, in no uncertain terms, that Dustin needed to shut his fucking trap about his and Eddie’s love life, lest Steve cause the temperature of his petri dishes to unfortunately shift by half a degree and spoil his weird ass mold experiment.

That’d been a pretty effective threat, even if Steve wasn’t actually capable of delivering on it without the aid of fire.

Which he wasn’t above employing.

Regardless—

They’d worked hard, built slow, and as they learned that the only cost that time seemed to extract from either of them was missing one another worse than a limb, they had the time to invest in something lasting.

They never let another season pass where they saw nothing of each other, ever again.

Now, though.

Now, they have it down to an art. Eddie makes music—has had all the time in the world to wait until the right someone hears and understands what he’s saying in the notes, and he does. Steve teaches at a community college, flexible enough for his real job, and funnily enough—gorgeouslyenough—sells flowers. Invests, here and there, because it was one thing his father had drilled him into knowing enough about before giving up on him as a lost cause. He picks underdogs, mostly because they’re cheap and the very idea of not spites everything his father stood for. Expected of him that was all so far from everything Steve is.

A couple of those underdogs make them a pretty fucking penny. It makes their ongoing trial-and-error of how to do their jobs—to maintain their end of the agreement, to the minimum viable product, and love on each other to the maximum possible extent in every interim possible—it makes the experimenting of it all easier; quicker.

It has to cut the hurting time in half, at the very least.

They never do hear directly from those voices again, the ones who struck their bargain—but they can feel direction, displeasure, satisfaction. They know they’re kept watch of, in the same way they both somehow know how, and what to keep watch of in doing the work for themselves: they don’t change things, can’t change thing; they’re not…powerful, not that way, just some degree of timeless, ageless—which is a whole other hill to climb, and cross to bear, especially when Steve sees Robin, is part of why they made the exception that is Robin; but then increasingly when either of them see the kids, and now the kids with their own kids—but.

They learn that the winds, the magnetic poles, fucking nature magic: it pushes them when their traveling aligns with the seasonal shifts, rather than their own desires—those have racked them up significant benefits from frequent flyer miles—but if they’re pulled by their callings, the callings they can fucking feel—they could fight it. But if they’re give in to it, assent to it, they can blink and end up where they’re meant to be.

Trippy. But kinda cool.

(Would be way cooler if it’s was just straight-up teleportation but: still neat.)

They’ll feel off a day or two, queasy before they overstay their hemisphere, their season outside the natural overlaps. They both of them push it by design, by their own nature—they come to suspect the powers that entrusted them with this, gifted and cursed with this task while blessing them with each other: they think those entities appreciate their commitment to the task alongside, second only to their commitment to each other. They both assume those eldritch gods are responsible for the minor barometric oddities that crop up if they push the limits too far, not-so-subtle nudges back to what they promised; what they’re bound to.

And Steve never lets them push too far, too afraid even after all this time to risk the bargain being taken back, rendered void, quite literally; Eddie, who never shared that sense of preservation regarding his own self, sure as shit shares it tenfold when applied to what he shares with Steve so: he never argues.

He cuddles Steve harder those last days, always, because while he knows they could have languished an eternity literally split from one another for half a year at least, for always, the way he’s grown to feel differently, to gauge time both as shorter and longer and inconsequential depending on the context: it all fades away against the backdrop of how much bigger his love is, and how an hour is a day and the fortnights are a century in his chest, nonetheless.

But as time passes, as the world changes and technology shifts and he can call Steve easier, he can hear his voice, then when webcams came around—it got better. It gets better all the time.

But still: he always feels less whole, whenever either of them has to leave, no matter for how long.

“Shut up,” Dustin shakes him back to the present with the snippy tone he shoots Eddie’s way—some things truly never change—but Eddie honestly doesn’t remember what the fuck either of them had said, but then he glances over and—

Ah. Still staring at the trees. Waiting.

“Think about how Robin feels,” and it’s a little disingenuous, seeing as Robin sees more of Steve than any of them, but Eddie means it as a sympathy. A commiseration.

Dustin scoffs.

“Maybe Robin flaunts that whole capital ‘P’ platonic soulmate thing left and goddamn right,” he bites out with narrowed eyes; “but that’s my fucking brother—“

“You’ll get to see him all the time, all summer long, shithead,” Eddie flicks his ear fondly—Dustin squawks and again, it’s refreshing. No matter how old they might look in comparison now, they’re still who they’ve always been to each other.

And yes, Steve’s still his brother. Steve didn’t forgetthat, never had for a second. And Eddie’s spent all winter with Dustin and Suzie and their munchkins—Steve’s gonna lose it to see how much they’ve grown in just a few months. Eddie’s excited for it, will go straight there with them if that’s what Dustin wants, will understand if Dustin would rather some one-on-one first, this surprised out-of-season visit quite possibly a fleeting one. Eddie gets it, he’ll—

“But these are the only times I get both of you,” Dustin trains his eyes on the trees more intently, now—less to avoid looking elsewhere than to seek out what might comes out from them; “together.”

Eddie’s throat tightens a little. He won’t pretend it doesn’t swell his heart the way it does to hear it.

He swallows, clears his throat, and tries his damnedest to not trample prominent but also not actually fall into the amount of feeling that’s behind the admission, all the history inside it. He’s never been good at that shit.

Except with Steve.

“It is earlier than usual,” Eddie comments, tries to make it encouraging; “that global warming thing, think we’re both gonna start to linger longer in the overlay as a rule,” Dustin frowns and yeah, okay, maybe that part’s less encouraging.

“Might end up sucking hardcore for you guys, though,” he adds, a little sheepish. “Sorry, man.”

Because seriously: he and Steve, they don’t make the seasons. Just watch over them, as best they can. Conduits for whatever the Upside Down really is—they still haven’t ever understood the powers that had receded under Vecna and returned to make them as them are, and frankly, they don’t mind overmuch, so long as whatever that power isallows for the life they lead that, they’d never had had a chance at otherwise—but they’re mostly messengers. They can’t…fix, what’s looking like it’s happening. And the buzz they both feel from the power that made them this way is concerned, but in a distant way. Like hearing sad story about another life, a century removed from yours.

“We’re working on that,” Dustin says and, yeah. Eddie’s pretty sure somewhere in Dustin’s massive government lab of geniuses, they are. Fuck? But he’s so proud of his little sheepie, all grown up.

And then there’s how Steve feels—

“Hmm,” Eddie hums as he nods; “plus the overlap will work down south, too, so,” he muses, pulls his with his hair across his mouth the way apparent immortality never knocked out of him.

“Down south?”

Oh. Right. Oops.

They don’t flaunt how they’ve made the most of the flexibility—or those long shot investments—and perfected a schedule to live more like businessmen with long company trips every few weeks than quasi-magical beings who traded death for this, and made out so much more the richer. It’s not that they don’t love everyone, the kids, their families, the Party at large. As he made a point to notdivulge before: Robin is the only one who knows, because of course she does, but they keep houses in both halves of the world, not sprawling but not modest, comfortable and welcoming to the two of them plus one occasional platonic soulmate. They can each of them stretch their time away from their own season to near two weeks—it’s too disruptive to switch straight back with whoever is leaving their current home-turf just just returning with a stowaway, they have to rebalance for another two weeks but then, if they switch, of Eddie visits first, they wait, and then Steve makes the journey next? It holds.

And so they do exactly that.

They’re just…Steve committed them to a fantasy life, the bargains of a Labyrinth crossed with the whimsy of the fae, he’d done it without question just to save Eddie’s fucking life, okay, so it can’t be a fucking surprise that when they fell whole-heart in love, it got a little co-dependent.

Eddie actually fucking adores that about them, and Steve does, too—it’s everything they missed out on in the first part of their lives, and ached for worse than they’d realized until the space was filled, then overflowed; now they get to have it in spades, and forever.

“Oh, just musing about the state of the mortal coil,” Eddie rolls his head over to Dustin to give him an answer, even if it’s not a whole one—if he told him the full story of just how often they see each other, he’d absolutely push his way into what Eddie needs as just for him. Maybe it’s selfish.

But Eddie’s not wholly human anymore, so far as he can tell, so he’s gonna just lean into that’s a limitation no longer relevant to my being argument.

He’s honestly grown pretty fond of that argument.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin shoves him, more than used to giving him shit when he plays high-and-mighty for serving as co-chief chronicler of the weather and still looking 20.

“Let me see him,” Eddie’s voice slips serious, because his heartburn thumping, his nerves are shivering, it doesn’t fucking matter that the two weeks apart has only been two weeks—the same senses heightened to feel his other half approaching on the breeze more than on a round trip ticket: it heightens everything.

And there is something special, unique, in the first natural shift where Steve gets to step into Eddie’s space and be held tight in Eddie’s arms because the seasons will it, because their bargain holds and keeps them.

“Just let me see him for a bit on my own,” Eddie turns to Dustin, pleading him to stay put on the bench where they’ve been waiting, Eddie knowing that this park, along these woods, is where Steve will come if he comes at all—but he has not qualms begging for just a minute alone as feels himself start to rise to his feet because the cells of his body know that Steve’s near, now, and call him to move, to run to his partner, his only.

He sees the unspoken protest in Dustin’s eyes

But you’ll have him forever.

Eddie gets it, sighs; tries to explain.

“When we,” he pauses, tries to find a better word but really there’s only one: “changed, we became something,” and Eddie, see, they were never told the details, the how’s and whys never explained. They just know how it feels.

And how much it feels is more than enough to serve as an explanation, as is.

“My heart’s got this bigger capacity to feel, now,” Eddie tries just being blunt, and not trying to logic out what transcends the concept as a rule; “my soul’s, just,” he shakes his head a bites on a grin in a battle that he’s ecstatic to lose:

“It’s just his in a way I never could have dreamed of before. It was already basically true before but that truth was a,” Eddie sighs, and doesn’t bother fighting the grin this time because it’d be a lost cause before he even starts, the very same heart he’s talking about is stretched to bursting and he, he wants, he needs him to understand that because Dustin’s become his brother, too, in a different but still profound way and Eddie loves him, so he wants him to understand it’s not about shutting him out, or denying him a single thing, but what Eddie knows a normal person can feel, like, not by choice but by design is, is—

“A fuckin’ pittance, man, in comparison.”

Dustin eyes him, and—thank fuck—reads not only what Eddie says but what he means; that Eddie also feels bigger for what they have, for Dustin’s family, for the whole Party and the sun and snow and the trees and then—

Then there’s his whole heart and soul, that he can feel is about to be waiting in those trees—another level. A wholeness he couldn’t put to words if he tried, which is how he knows it’s both real, and other; not what he was or could have been before they were given their duties; gifted their whole fucking lives.

In each each other.

Dustin finally sighs, theatrically in a way that makes Eddie chuckle as he’s shooed away with a sage “Public indecency is still a crime!” —to which Eddie offers his middle finger as he bounds through the tree line and only stops when he finds the clearing that feels right.

Then he waits.

And waits.

He lets his eyes close, reaches inward where his heartbeat’s ramping up; reaches outward to the trees, still barren but never quiet, never dead.

He feels.

Feels something slip behind his ear: a stem, petals tickling his cheekbone when nothing here is blooming yet; when everything is blooming nowunder Eddie’s ribs, blossoming in the smile that stretches across his lips as a warm breath tickles his neck and weight presses behind him, familiar arms wrapping around his waist:

“Gorgeous weather you’re a having, hmm?” Steve teases and the shell of his ear, nips the lobe and turns Eddie around at the hips and fuck yeah.

Fuck yeah

It’s gorgeous.

🌷🌺🌷🌺

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divider credit here

[a-simple-imagine]

Instructions Unclear

Synopsis: Surprising Van one day after work leads to revelations neither of you were expecting…

Pairing: Adult!Van Palmer x reader

Words: 2.7k+

A/N - will nobody being interested in van palmer stop me from writing about them?? no, she’s literally the love of my life. if you’re the anon that requested the taissa fic it’s next on my list

WARNINGS - swearing and minor sexual references

The cool night air clings to all too-warm skin. How were you already sweating? A deep sense of anxiety sits low in your stomach, but the space is shared by a degree of giddiness. You were merely excited so why did your body seemingly react like you were heading into battle? You almost talked yourself out of coming as you walked down the streets. You still might. An all-too-tight grip on the plastic bags in hand. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this would merely ruin everything. You have to keep telling yourself that it's fine. Don't make this any bigger than It needs to be. The pit in your stomach is only made worse when the redhead yanks open the door. The grey sweatpants and plain white t-shirt combo induce a sharp intake of breath. She was winding down for the night. A visible display of confusion. This really was a bad idea. Too late now.

"...Hey," hummed slowly; the wrinkle in her brow deepened as her eyes drifted over you. Your weight shifts from one foot to the other. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"Yeah... sorry," was all you could think to say. That sense of regret now swallows any giddiness you were feeling as you consider how disorienting this must be. "Thought I'd surprise you."

And her expression doesn't change. Clearly surprising her was a misjudgement on your part. Nobody likes unexpected company. Now you were just an inconvenience. Something to ruin her otherwise peaceful night. "Uh, right," for a moment you think she may send you away. Some excuse about how busy she is or whatever but she does not. Instead, she opens the door wider and steps aside, ushering you inside. "It's cool."

Even as you step over the threshold you cannot help but wonder if your company is unwanted. You would prefer her to turn you away at the door than humour you. That was more her style when it came to this kind of thing. Van Palmer was strictly interested in a casual relationship. A transactional relationship. She had made that very clear on her dating profile. Very clear the first time you came over. And very clear every time since. You have never really done this before. Just hung out. You would chat sometimes before sleeping together. A little texting back and forth. "I brought food," you explain. The click of the lock, a signal to walk further into her space. It wasn't your first time here and yet you still feel like a stranger. Like you were intruding on some big night. There was nobody here but the television flickers with black and white images. Van trails behind you. Blocking you from a quick escape. You're sure she wouldn't mind if you made up some lie to leave; she would probably welcome it but now you felt trapped. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet," a blur that almost collides with your shoulder as she zooms past. A beeline for the kitchen space where she begins tidying. Moving stray glasses and plates into the sink. It really wasn't a bother; you didn't care how it looked but it doesn't seem like your place to make her stop. "What'd you bring?" you place the white plastic bag on the table and begin unpacking. It was not anything fancy. You had merely stopped at a takeaway on your way over. It was late enough for her to have finished work but not that long ago. You figured if you caught her quickly then she would not have had dinner yet. Turns out you had been correct. "You want a beer? It's kinda all I got." Van does not wait for a response, already passing the bottle across the table. Exchanging a small cardboard box and some chopsticks for a glass bottle that you place to one side.

"I also got you something," You add. "Else- I mean, something else."

"Oh," Curiosity peaked as her actions slowed, settling into the chair opposite as she opened up her food.

"Not sure how into it you'll be but," A shrug. Even now after being welcomed into her home you feel embarrassed. This was too much. A gift was too much. Making this into something it's not but now that you have mentioned it, you cannot take it back. She is watching you with expectations. It was pretty much the only other thing you brought. On the table you place the gift; a lego set.

For a moment she seems genuinely perplexed. "this is what you think I'm into?" A strange gift for a person in their late forties but from what you have learned about Van this seemed like something she would enjoy. She owned a video rental store which was steeped in nostalgia. VHS tapes, cassettes and old toys and comics. She had some newer stuff too but the main draw was the old-school vibes. So a Lego set seemed right up her street and it was a set for adults that when pieced together would create a retro portable radio. Still, panic settles over your nerves. Maybe she thinks this an insult? Some would call it childish. But a smile tugs at her lips as she chuckles. "I'm just fucking with you," Van leans over the table to grab the box; the pieces all clattering around inside as she drops it against the table. "You got this for me?"

A shrug. An awkward little smile returned. "Yeah"

"Sit," Van instructs as she lovingly shovels chopsticks full of noodles into her mouth. You descend into the seat opposite, digging into your own food. You figured it would be more awkward just getting food for her. "This is really cool. Do you wanna start it now?" a pause. You weren't expecting the offer but now you have a split second to decide before it becomes awkward.

"uh... sure, yeah," You nod a little too eagerly. Half a smile settling on your lips. She drops the chopsticks into the noodle box and sets on opening that lego. In a similar fashion to a kid on Christmas, there is no grace to her movements. They rip it open and dump the contents onto the middle of the table. Thank god everything came in little plastic bags.

"Shit- this is a lot," They express, looking into the cardboard box and fishing out the instructions. "how many pieces is this?" She searches the outside of the box for answers. Was this too much? You had tried to go for something not too small but not obnoxiously large either. A careful balance of buying Lego sets for middle-aged women.

"Sorry, I just went for something I thought you'd think was cool,"

"no no, I'm not complaining. Just gonna take a minute to finish is all," Van smiles to herself. "Guess we just do a bag each and come together. That good for you?" A brief glance, you nod obediently. "There's only one set of instructions though."

"I can probably find some online," Getting your phone you set to work on finding that while she flips through the paper copy. Half her attention has returned to her dinner; lazily filling her mouth with long strings of pasta and seasoned vegetables. It does not take very long for you to google the set and find a PDF copy on the official website. "Okay, I'm set." The redhead ushers one of the small bags of bricks towards you. Guess you were starting with the first bag. Van with the second.

"So how was your day?" you ask, ripping open the bag and beginning to clip them together based on the images on your phone screen. Small talk had never been your strong suit. It never seemed to bother Van much. You weren't exactly there for stimulating conversation. Plus the other woman was as awkward as they came. You made it work. It worked very well if records show.

"Pretty chill," She replies. "got to introduce a girl to the joys of classic gangster movies."

Ah, films. An interest of Van's everyone who ever interacted with her knew about. "oh I bet she just loved that," You tease; a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Hey- they're classics for a reason," She urges. "She'll get it once she watches a few." You don't doubt her. "How was your day?"

"Long," truly was the only way to describe it. You wish it had been as simple as recommending movies to teenagers. "Hence the surprise."

"Ah so that's why you're actually here," Van chuckles, a teasing little smirk suggesting there's more to be said. "You didn't have to do all this to get me into bed. A simple 'you up?' text would have sufficed."

"That's not..." Your voice trails off; internally wincing at the notion this was all just a way to get her into bed. That was a logical conclusion that you can't really argue with. Came with the casual territory. You fall into silence after that. Both conventrationing on your own individual parts. Clipping colourful plastic together between mouthfuls of dinner or swigs of beer. The soft mumble of the film van never bothered to turn off. It sets a nice atmosphere. However, it does not take long before your attention falls from assisting her in the construction of this radio, to merely admiring her do the work alone.

"You're staring," Busted. Not so much as a spared glance but it is enough for your eyes to blink away like a naughty child caught cheating. The clicking of bricks as you calm the butterflies in your stomach. But it's not enough. And when you are sure she is not paying attention to you anymore, your eyes flicker back to watching her. Van Palmer was beautiful. Handsome. And you would never get tired of looking at her. The level of concentration was akin to a very important task rather than such a silly task. Firey locks of red curtain either side of her face. The scar above her left eyebrow is more prominent in her frown. That sparkle of childlike wonder in such captivating eyes as she plays with her toys. Every so often her expression would change; a purse of the lips. The signs of the inside of her cheek between teeth. And your particular favourite, the way she scrunched up her nose. It was adorable. She was adorable. And suddenly your cheeks felt hot and the pounding of your heartbeat was so loud in your ears as you blurt out the words.

"I can't do this,"

"You can't put together plastic bricks?" Her tone suggested playful teasing but her expression was one of curiosity. Or perhaps confusion. "I know it says eighteen on the box but I'm pretty sure a kid could do this,"

"No Van," A soft sigh. "Not the lego, this. I can't do this," You use your hand to usher between the two of you. Her face relaxes. A much more neutral expression settling.

"Oh," a pause. "Weird way to break it off like,"

"I know. I just..." you glance at the pieces of Lego scattered across the table. Nothing about this felt casual for you anymore. Or more so, you don't want it to be. How you didn't realise before now was crazy. After a long day, all you wanted to do was see her. You brought food because you knew she probably hadn't eaten. You bought her a stupid Lego set just because you thought it would make her happy. Those butterflies weren't general anxiety. You like Van. You like Van a lot. But when you first matched on some stupid dating app, you knew what this was and had been fine with that. Casual. Why was it so hard to just fuck a beautiful woman and have it mean nothing more? Van was hot as fuck, knew what she wanted and was great in bed.

"Why'd you come if you don't wanna see me anymore? That's pretty fucked up." there is a playful lilt to her tone that only made you feel worse. She did not even seem to care. You were probably just another drop in the ocean to her.

"I didn't know," you admit. You start fiddling with a stray plastic brick to avoid looking at her. Avoid getting pulled back in by those captivating blue eyes. Twisting it round and round and round.

"So what was the kicker?"

"Watching you just now," You admit. A small shrug of your shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Damn! Bring me a gift and then decide you never wanna see me again once we start-"

"You're wrong" you interject, forcing yourself to look at them. You don't expect them to be staring back and as your eyes meet, that little burst of confidence disappears. "I- It's not that I don't wanna see you. That's all I wanna do and that's the problem," Van continues to look at you, clearly expecting more of an explanation. "I really fucking like you Van. You're beautiful, so so smart and like really fucking funny and it's all just too much. Watching you play with your little lego just made me realise I don't think I can do casual anymore,"

"Oh," Now you expect her to say more but she doesn't. She goes back to playing. Opening up a fresh bag; the plastic bricks clatter against the wood.

"And I get that's what you want. That's all this was ever meant to be but if I don't put a stop to a now I'm just gonna be torturing myself."

"I get it- you don't have to explain." Van clarifies making you feel silly. You sit in a very awkward silence for a minute or two. She continues building. You watch her do it. But it's clear at this point that the only thing left to do is leave. The chair scrapes across the floor as you push away from the table and raise to your feet.

"I'm sorry," you express as if catching feelings was something you could just control. Grabbing your jacket.

"Uh... do you wanna stay over?" only one arm in your jacket when you come to a stop. Had you heard that right? Was she asking you to stay?

"What?"

"Do you wanna stay over tonight... maybe?" The woman repeats. She isn't really playing with the lego anymore just staring at it. You swallow hard.

"Van I can't," you say. "It'll feel just as shitty in the morning as it does now."

"I don't mean it like that," Van expresses. "When you showed up at my door unannounced I should have sent you away. It should have been so easy but I just couldn't because I was happy to see you. I wanted to see you."

"Oh," Is that a bad thing? She was making it seem like it was.

"Yeah... and I indulged it- I let you in and you brought food and this gift and I was like fuck, she must really like me" Van continues to explain. Not so subtly calling you out. "and even then I didn't want you to leave so stay."

"Van-"

"I want you to stay," and you swear your heart skips a beat. A mix of emotions swirling in your stomach. Equal parts excitement and bafflement. "If you want to like- even just to finish the lego,"

You're kind of at a loss for words. Scared to say anything that might ruin the moment. Her words weren't the same as yours. There was no confirmation of feelings but a plea to stay instead. You withdraw your arm from the jacket, tossing it over the back of the chair. Maybe it was enough to feel wanted in the moment? She didn't seem the type to manipulate your feelings just to sleep together. Her words hold weight. She was happy to see you. Happy to just sit and build Lego. You lower back into the chair. Van watches; a smile slowly spreading over her lips. But still doubt remains and you have just enough conviction to ask a follow-up question.

"What changed?"

Van shrugs. "not too many girls show up at my door with Chinese and Lego sets these days." and a once very serious conversation has returned to the playful nature that constantly comes with talking to her. "it really worked in your favour," she reaches for a plastic bag of lego and slides it across the table before going back to her own thing. A moment of pause. Eyes on the lego but a mischievous grin. "and not just because watching you do nerdy shit really turns me on,"

[arcane-ish]

@embershroud108

Yeah, with Silco the other thing about the “You’re perfect” line that’s always kind of bothered me is that even in the end I don’t think he actually would have accepted what we heuristically call Powder. Yes yes I know people point to how “Jinx is perfect” becomes “you’re perfect” but I just don’t quite buy it. Maybe I’m wrong but I’m just very skeptical that if Silco could have seen what Jinx did in season 2, reconciling with Vi and Ekko, and arguably coming to Piltover’s defense, that he would have approved.

I like to be optimistic and think he would have tried, but yeah, he would absolutely have thrown a fit.

I think Silco's line is much more influenced by him being high on the idea that loves her more than Zaun than him really understanding her and who she is. I think he wants to support her, but he doesn't really understand what that really means because I think he's still way too locked into his own point of view.

I don't think he understood at this point yet that Jinx doesn't actually care that much about Zaun as a concept or why she wants to be with Vi. Because again, he is imo still too blinded by seeing himself in her.

If I imagine a world where Silco didn't die and only got heavily injured. Like Jinx drags him off and tries to heal him and give him medicine ... I genuinely think that they would have been at each other's throats and arguing all the time.

And I think he would at the very least have started to scheme against Jinx reconnecting with Vi and Ekko, because again, he is still locked too deeply into "they will just hurt you, I'm opposing them for your own good". Which again, is all about him projecting his own experiences into Jinx and not respecting her making a judgement call on whether Vi or Ekko are good people or important people to be around.

(of course if he had lived he probably as soon as he could talk again would likely have given her orders and tasks again how to better handle the situation. And probably quickly started scheming with Sevika behind Jinx's back in some way, because again, I don't think Silco fully respects Jinx as an adult yet. Something that out of all his flaws is probably the most normal "dad" flaw)

Though it's interesting how a bedbound/injured Silco would have reacted to Isha. I think he would have struggled but ultimately have maybe been more accepting of it, since again it's something he relates to, as it's something he did himself).

I mostly agree that the show seems written more from the perspective of the children, or at least with a young adult audience in mind, than the parents, except for the Jinx+Isha arc. Like that really feels like it was written by a parent to me. Or at the very least by someone with a younger sibling.

I dunno. I think there's kind of a child-ish fan-ficcy quality about Jinx and Isha. Kind of like young girls like to play with dolls, how it happens kind of too easily and then "goes away" rather than the actual thing about children, that they are a life long responsibility with normally many moments of frustration and exhaustion. (heck even Isha being mute and hence not having the ability to talk back or contradict any of Jinx's assumptions is kind of nice and convient for Jinx)

Don't get me wrong, I think Isha is cute as a button and I respect the ways she is important for Jinx's growth but the whole relationship setup just doesn't feel very realistic to me even if the the individual moments and interactions do.

Again, doesn't mean it isn't meaningful and that there aren't many ring true themes and ideas in there.

[chock-and-bates]

(trying to distract myself from The Horrors)

I am curious to hear more about the phone sex fic if you would like to share some details? is it tied to one you've already told about?

(i get it, this is a nightmare 😭)

i actually don't think i've talked about the phone sex fic, so i'm happy to share more. i've wanted to write phone sex for awhile, and i felt inspired recently. it's also a nice, easy fic to keep up with my writing while the rest of my life is such a mess lol. it's basic but filthy, very fun to write.

Premise: During a race weekend, Charles gets a late night call from Max. His boyfriend is frustrated, not only because he can't sleep, but also because Charles can't be in bed next to him. When Max suggests phone sex, Charles finds that he isn't that opposed to the idea 👀

should be out next weekend!

snippet under the cut (mildly spicy 🌶️)

“I said, I sleep better when you’re next to me,” Max says, a little testily, but Charles thinks he can practically hear his embarrassed blush through the phone.

The warm feeling from a moment ago returns ten-fold, and Charles has to smother his dumb little grin into his pillow, grateful that Max can’t see him. Five months together and he’s still bashful about the butterflies Max gives him.

“I’ll try to stay with you tomorrow night, mon amour,” Charles promises, hoping he doesn’t sound as lovesick as he so truly is.

“That’s lovely, baby, but it won’t help me tonight,” Max grouses, “Fuck, you’re sure you can’t come over? We haven’t been together in-”

“Five days,” Charles says, maybe a bit too quickly, giving himself away.

It’s just- it’s been a very long five days, and though Charles is too proud to admit, he’s missed his boyfriend quite a bit. Their relationship had bloomed in the offseason, and though there were plenty of days spent apart, it’s been pitifully hard ever since the season started to have Max so close but so untouchable.

Charles may have been going a little crazy. But Max didn't need to know that.

“Five shitty days,” Max sounds so agitated, something rustling on his end like he’s tossing and turning in his bed.

“We have been apart for longer,” Charles half-heartedly defends, “Remember in December, for the holidays? We didn’t see each other for two weeks until I surprised you back in Monaco.”

Max is quiet for a moment, “Back when you knocked on my door in the middle of the night?”

“Yes. I am just saying if we survived that-”

“Charles,” Max cuts him off, his voice suddenly raspier, “If you want me to think about being inside you, you could have just said so.”

Charles' breath hitches, startled, “What?”

“The sofa,” Max replies, “That night you surprised me.”

And Charles had even been thinking of that aspect of their reunion, but it comes back to him quickly- how Max had looked so surprised when he’d opened the door before breaking out into the cutest smile. He’d pulled Charles in for a kiss hello that had rapidly deepened, their time apart making them so hungry. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom… instead stumbling over to the sofa, where Max had bent Charles over the arm, pressing him down, his big cock splitting him open-

Even as the memory makes his blood run hot, Charles eyes narrow down at the phone, realization suddenly dawning on him.

“Are you horny,” Charles hisses, accusatory, “Is that why you are trying to get me to come over?”

There’s another vague shuffling sound as Max snickers, “Can you blame me? You looked so good today. Had to hold myself back from smacking your ass when you walked by in the paddock… And so what if I am also missing the other stuff we do in bed besides sleeping.”

Charles groans, “I cannot believe you woke me for sex.”

[epcotwhore]

learned a lot of things last night and I just can’t stop thinking about them and what could’ve been if I had just said something months ago

And I just hate myself for it and wanna die UGH

[kavehayati]

If I had a genie and could make one wish I’d wish that romantic relationships and anything to do with falling in love would be completely eradicated from existence. Not only is it gross and weird, but it’s also fundamentally an issue, like you can’t tell me it’s anything feasible to yearn for or believe in when so many crimes hardships and negativity stems as a by product of love. I wish everyone was aroace and we sprout from the soil via mitosis but somehow we still have genetic variation bc it’s a unique sub section of mitosis where it’s a hybrid of mitosis and meiosis.

[classyrbf]

SHE SAID IT'S HER FIRST TIME! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...older bf!nanami finds out he’s your first time and he intends to make it very special

INFO...older bf!nanami x virgin fem!reader, age gap (earlier 20s, early 30s), virginity loss, consent checks, praise, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy eating, penetration, slight blood, slight crying, creampie, nanami grows kinda feral, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Having Nanami as an older boyfriend was such a joy. The maturity, thoughtfulness, communication, love, commitment, and patience you received from him was more than you could have ever asked for. You were always so open with him, telling him everything and just being the annoying girl friend you were. But, there is one thing that you’ve kept hidden for the last six months of your relationship.

Every time things got heated between you Nanami while making out or getting handsy, you always backed out last minute telling him that you “weren’t ready” and he always understood and respected your boundaries. Though, you are ready. If you were to lose your virginity to anyone you’d want it to be your sweet loving boyfriend. But voices in the back of your head start to make you overthink, wonder if he’ll even want you anymore if you confess to him.

It isn’t until you’re here on his bed, hands tangled in his hair while kiss him slowly, passionately. His hands are roaming all over your body, still careful to be respectful. You’re pushing into him, smiling in between kisses. “Have I ever told you how much of an amazing kisser you are?” He chuckles, peppering kisses along your jawline.

A blissful sigh escapes your lips before you answer, “no.” You shake your head, his lips traveling lower down to your neck. Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, enjoying the moment. His tongue glides along the skin of your neck, gently sucking and kissing, earning little whimpers from you as a reward. His hand grabs at your leg, hooking in over his waist as he pushes his hips into you.

Your breathing grows shallow, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. You gulp, feeling things grow more intense with each passing second before you push Nanami away. “I’m sorry, Kento, I just—”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand you want to take your time with this kind of thing.” He gently grabs your hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His brows furrowed as he studies your features, eyes wandering every where else but into his. “What’s wrong, hm? You know you can talk to me,” he says in the most smooth voice, one that makes you wanna spill every secret. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. “Sweetheart?” He draws out the pet name, he knows something is on your mind.

“Ken, I feel bad for keeping this from you for so long, but,” you sigh, fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt, “I’m a…virgin.” You finally look in his eyes, clenching your jaw. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, ears ringing loudly it almost drowns out your heart beat.

His lips part, eyes widening at your words. Deafening silence falls upon you like a tidal wave and you feel the embarrassment rush in. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything I…I’m just gonna go.” You quickly scramble to your feet, grabbing your sweater from off of his bedroom floor. Maybe those voices in your head were right. Why would a man like Kento want anything to do with an inexperienced girl like you, compared to a woman who would know how to please him, give him a what he wants.

Just as you were about to walk out his bedroom, you feel a tug at your arm pulling you back until you hit his broad chest. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking at you. “I never said to leave, sweetheart.” He walks you back over to the bed, taking your sweater from your hands and placing it on the back of his chair. You sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for the next words to leave his mouth. Eyes follow his every movement, watching the way he walks over to you and kneels down in front you, grabbing your hands in his. “Look at me.” And you do, eventually, meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

You find it hard to speak, to even get a peep out. Nerves are shot and it feels like your stomach is twisting in knots. “I just thought that—”

“That I’d be upset you’re a virgin?” He asked, putting it all out there. You nodded your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sweetheart,” he chuckles, flashing a smile at you, “you’re too cute for your own good.” He caresses your cheek. “No wonder you’ve been so nervous each time we’ve made out.” He licks his lips, taking a deep breath in before speaking again, “listen, we don’t have to rush into anything. You should’ve just told me, but I understand your feelings.”

You blink a couple of times, your heart rate finally drops, feeling more comfortable with the situation. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders, and even more importantly, you were glad Nanami took it so well. “But, I am ready.” You look away from him.

“What?” His brows furrowed, confusion written on his face.

“I’ve been ready, just been scared, nervous…I don’t know.” You shrug, your voice getting quieter with each word you say.

His hand comes up to your cheek, gently cupping it as he directs your gaze back towards him for the millionth time. “Are you asking me to be your first?” He asks in such a gentle tone, eyes carrying a look of adoration in them. Sheepishly, you nod.

“Always wanted it to be you, Ken. You’re so kind to me, and so patient,” you admit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, “I’d love nothing more than to be your first.” He kisses the top of your hand, soft lip pressing against your skin as he stares into your eyes. “We’ll go at your pace, yeah?” He smirks.

Everything in you is telling you to pounce on this man and go at it like animals with how he was treating you. It only made him a hundred more times attractive than he already was. Your lips find his as you both fall back onto the bed, resuming the make out session from minutes ago, only this time it’ll actually lead somewhere. The kisses felt more feverish, more passionate, something that’d you been craving this entire time.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asked, placing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll take mine off too.”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. The fabric slipped over your head, your first instinct was to cover your chest, feeling completely vulnerable in this position. His hands carefully undid your pants, pulling them down along with your panties, discarding the items of clothing on the wood floor. You covered yourself up, shutting your legs and holding your chest.

As you watched him get undressed, your eyes landed upon the obvious tent in his shorts, leaving you turned on. His body seemed liked it was carved from the gods, toned biceps, shredded six pack. He looked like he could just easily toss you around, put in whatever position he wanted. Not to mention, you could see how big he was through his boxers, your nerves starting to wrack up again as you began to wonder if it’d even fit. And once he pulled them down, your eyes widened and worry flooded your face.

Nanami let out a light laugh at the look on your face. “What’s the matter?” He asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs.

“Do you think it’ll fit? It’s just…really big, Ken.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander. He was thick, and slightly long, which is reasonable excuse for your worry.

“It might hurt a little, sweetheart, but that’s why I need to prepare you, yeah? Make it feel good for my sweet girl. Now, don’t hide yourself from me, okay? I wanna see all of you, praise all of you.” He leaned over, kissing your lips again, trailing down further with each one. His hands replaced yours, gently groping your tits, squeezing them in his hands. “Such soft and pretty tits.” He kissed each one. “Can I suck on them? I promise you it’ll feel good.”

Once he gets your approval, he wastes no time, his lips latching onto your hard nipple, hot tongue swirling around the bud. His eyes fluttered shut, a muffled moan escaping his lips. Your hands find themselves in his hair, little pants and whimpers leaving your lips at the foreign sensation. His other hand pulls at your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he gets lost in thought. He pulls his head up, hazy eyes staring back at you. “Doing okay, baby?” He asks.

“Yes, please keep going.” You bite down on your bottom lip, earning a smile from his as he moves over to your other nipple, tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive skin before taking it in his mouth, suckling on it. “Mmm, Ken,” you whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Feeling good?” He places kisses all over your tits, his touches so gentle. You buck your hips up towards him, grinding against him. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re feeling needy, aren’t you, baby? Go on, you can tell me.” The flat of his tongue lays against your nipple again, slowly licking, teasing you.

You bring your hand up to your face, covering it, too embarrassed to look at him, to let him hear you. But with each flick of his tongue more whimpers spill out of you, overflowing. His warm lips press kisses to your sternum, traveling down towards your stomach, getting lower and lower until you jolt up. “What…what are you doing?” You ask, dumbly. It was clear what his intentions were with his mouth just inches away from your cunt.

“Just sit back and relax.” He caresses your side. “Open up for me, wanna get a taste,” he murmurs. He gently pushes your thighs open, scooting lower on the bed. His mouth slightly parts, eyes gravitating towards your wet cunt. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he chuckles, looking up at you. He rests his head against your thighs, lips kissing your skin, worshipping you, savoring you. He plans to tease you as much as possible, he wants you ready.

You body twitches when you feel his fingers ghost over your throbbing cunt, light touches making you yearn for something you’ve never even had before. He kisses down your thighs and towards your pussy, pausing when he finally reaches. He looks up at you for approval and when you scoot your hips closer towards him with the cutest whimper, he dips his head down between your legs and presses the slowest kisses on your clit. The way you gasp makes him smirk, he wonders how you’ll sound when he uses his tongue.

Finally, you feel the flat of his hot tongue dip between your soaked folds, pushing its way up your slit and finding your clit. You sit up on your elbows, brows furrowing in pleasure as Nanami wraps your his arms around your thighs, holding your hips in place. He moans against you, pulling you closer towards him as he starves for more of your taste.

He flicks his tongue across your clit, his chin coated in your juices before he moves his tongue lower, tongue fucking you. You bite down on your plump lower lip, quietly moaning while your eyes watch his every movement, like you were studying him. His tongue slithers back to your clit, circling it before he gently sucks on it. “Hah, fuck,” you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his blonde locks of hair.

He lifts his head, licking his lips to not waste any drop of you. “Hey, pretty girl, can we try something?” His voice is gentle, a sense of security in it. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The pad of his thumb rubs your clit in circles, his other hand caresses your thigh. “Wanna try fingering you while I eat this pretty pussy, get you ready for me,” he explains.

You gulp, nervously looking down at his hands. “Will it hurt as much?” You ask.

“Might hurt a little, but it’ll help. I’ll make you feel good, baby. I never wanna hurt you.” He sits up, moving closer towards you.

You nod slowly, “okay,” you meekly say. Nanami, wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting your leg around him as you both lay on your sides.

“You ready?” He asks, kissing your cheek, his fingers rubbing your slick over your entrance and back over your clit, trying to get you prepared. “Just gonna do one finger for now until you want more,” he whispers into your ear. Slowly, he slides his thick digit into your entrance and you immediately let out a pained sigh. He removes his finger, pressing another kiss to you cheek. “Take your time, baby. You’re okay. Hold on to me if it gets too much.” He continues rubbing your clit in slow circles until you give him the nod of approval to try again.

He pushes his finger past your folds, feeling your walls clench around him as he goes inch by inch. “Mmm.” Your eyes screw shut as you cling onto his broad shoulders, feeling the sting of the stretch. He finally gets it all the way through and you’re panting, clawing at his skin.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he reassures. “Hey, look at me,” he grabs your face in his direction, “it’s okay.” He kisses your lips as you whimper against his. “I’m gonna start moving my hand now.” You hold onto him tighter, the burn making you wince as he pulls his hand back and pushes his finger back in, slightly gaining in speed.

You can’t seem to look away from him, melting into his touch as the pain slowly turned to pleasure, feeling your body accept him just like you wanted this entire time. He presses his forehead against yours, bodies pressed up against one another as you fight back the urge to kiss him until you’re breathless. Your hips rock into his hand, following his movements. “Want more,” you whimper, nodding at him.

“Want more, pretty? Yeah?” He pecks your lips, carefully sliding his ring finger into your entrance. You whine at the stretch, taking in a deep breath when you feel his fingers curl up, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your cunt squelches around his fingers, sucking them in. “You’re doing such a good job,” he whispers, working fingers faster until you’re a moaning mess.

Wet kisses make their way down your neck, moving lower down to your chest as he repositions himself at the end up of the bed, fingers still curling inside you. He pushes one of your legs back, eyes intently watching the way your pussy takes his fingers so well. Without warning, the flat of his tongue presses down your swollen clit. “Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping at the sheets below you. Your body shivers with pleasure, the sensation of his tongue and fingers sending you to cloud nine.

Your head falls back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, legs threatening to close around his head. He slurps your pussy, tongue working its way through your folds to get every last drop. He’s moaning at your taste, breathing heavily through his nose. His hand pushes your leg back farther, nearly up to your chest, as he works hard to drive that orgasm out of you. “Ah! Oh my gosh!” You cry out, clutching at his hair, pushing his head down when he sucks on your sensitive clit once more. “Ken, baby, I think—fuck!” You squeal, rocking your hips on his face. Your legs close around his head as your orgasm arrives, body quivering, and every touch is heightened. That doesn’t stop Nanami, low eyes watching how prettily your back arches off the bed, your walls squeezing his fingers. “Hah! Ah! Yes!” You moan.

Nanami finally lifts his head, chest heaving up and down as he looks at you with the most love in his eyes. “Fuck, baby, you did so good. Come here.” He rushes to plant his lips on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His dick is throbbing, oozing pre from the tip just from watching you cum. “You alright?” He asks, petting your cheek.

“I’m okay.” You nod. “Thank you.” The sweetest smile spreads across your face, one that makes his chest fill with warmth. “But, I think I’m finally ready.” You look down towards where you two meet, only inches away from one another.

“You sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly.

“I promise I am. Just…go slow,” anxiousness riddled your tone.

“Of course. Let me know at any time if you wanna stop.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. The nerves build in your chest, and your stomach fills with butterflies. He repositions his hips, rubbing his length through your folds, smearing his precum. He lightly groans, slowly moving up and down, nudging your clit with each thrust. Nanami notices you watching, he can see you’re still nervous. “Baby, look at me, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He gently grabs your face, staring into your eyes before his fat tip pushes its way through your folds. Your eyebrows raise in surprise before furrowing. He goes as slow as possible before removing himself, letting you take a breather.

You spread your legs further before another attempt, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushes into you again, inch by inch you feel the stretch, the stinging sensation making you grit your teeth. “Ah!” You bury your face in his neck, when you feel his hips finally meet with yours.

Tears fall down your cheeks, and he’s quick to kiss them away. “I know it hurts, sweetheart. Let’s stay like this for a minute.” He wipes your tears, massaging your thighs as you try to accustom to his size. “Gonna start moving now.” He pulls his hips back, his length coated in a mix of your juices and slight blood. “Oh, your bleeding baby.” He looks at you with the most empathetic expression.

“Mmmph, sorry, I’m sorry.” A wave of embarrassment washes over you as it came to mind that it was most likely on his sheets.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s completely normal.” He kisses your lips as he pushes his hips against your again, the head of his cock grazing over a sweet spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?Hah, my sweet, sweet girl—fuck,” he breathily chuckles. And now he’s moving faster, wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. “So fucking tight,” he grunts.

You feel so full of him, like he was made for you. His dick dragging along your walls, his hands holding you close, wrapping around you as he whispers praises in your ear in the most sweetest voice. Your eyes roll back, nails leaving marks on his skin, your toes pointed. He’s fucking you into the mattress, but being oh so gentle about it. “It feels so good,” you mewl as he fucks you deep, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

“This pussy was made for me baby—oh shit—taking me so fucking well. You feel so fucking good,” he moans. He presses into you, each thrust sending your mind spiraling as shivers run down your spine, your body covered in sweat. Nanami squeezes you tightly, kissing your neck, and nibbling at the skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” It feels like your breath is being sucked out of you, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. “Gonna cum!” You cry out. “Hah—yes, yes!” He keeps the same rhythm, tip of his dick kissing your cervix before your shaking under him.

He holds you tightly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as you cum around his dick. Your hands cup his face, searching his eyes. “That’s my girl, let it all out,” he says. He can feel you clenching down on him, the feeling making his dick throb harder. “Always be my good girl, right baby?” He asks. And all you can do is nod, when he starts fucking you faster, almost like he’s grown feral. “It’s good that you know because I’m about to fuck you like you aren’t.” He pushes your knees to your chest, lifting your hips slightly so that he reaches the deepest parts of you. “Nngh, fuck!” He grunts.

“Ken! Oh fuck, fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut, the bed rocking and creaking with each other his hard thrusts. A hand clasps over your mouth in a weak attempt to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“Pussy feels so good, sweetheart. Can’t get enough—fuck—I’m sorry,” he heavily pants. Strands of blonde hair cling to his forehead, eyes fixated on watching his dick disappears in and out of you, your pussy creaming around him, leaving a white ring around the base. He can feel you clenching down on him again, your nails leaving crescent marks in his forearms as you’re cumming for a third time tonight, barely able to form words. “Atta girl. Look so pretty cumming on my cock,” he smirks.

Your back arches into him, legs quivering as he thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier. “Nnngh, shit,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum—ah!” His brows furrow as he fucks you harder, a primal feeling rises in him as he thinks of cumming inside of you for the first time ever. “Baby,” he says with desperation, “baby, let me cum inside you.” A rosy red spreads across his cheeks as he stares into your eyes.

Your arms reach out to him, dragging him down for kiss, legs locking around his waist as you push him closer to you. Nanami groans into the kiss and you swallow every last one as his seed fills you up, coating your walls. He slowly fucks you, making sure to get every last drop of his cum in you before pulling out.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” he chuckles, a glint in his eyes. You laugh with him before he rolls both of you over, you now on top of him. He caresses your cheek and you melt into his hand, a blissful sigh leaving your lips. “You did absolutely amazing.” He smiles. “You doing okay, though?” He wonders, fingertips tracing patters on the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes shut, “I’m doing great actually.” You smile. You rest your head on his chest. “Thank you, Ken.”

“No, thank you. I’m glad that you trusted me to be your first, honestly. It means a lot to me.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You’ll always be my girl.” He continues tracing your skin.

“Really?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “Promise me?” You pout, batting your lashes.

“I promise.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lips before you press a kiss to it. He chuckles at the small gesture. “Let’s get in the shower, together, yeah? Maybe order some food? You deserve it.”

[hoshigray]

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | suguru getō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Geto are college sweethearts - implied that you and Geto are early 20s - lingerie + bunny outfit - oral (m! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - use of an anal toy; butt plug - backshots/doggy style + deep impact positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play - praise - finger sucking - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - pet names (angel, baby, bunny girl, little bunny, good girl, my love, princess, sweet baby, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Mei Mei, and Gojo - reader is very shy but is trying their best! - kind of freaky! Geto awakening, lmao - humor - mention of drool/spit and tears - will be proofread l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.2k (sigh..)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! haven't done a suguru fic in a long while so ehh, why not? && tysm for 8.8k, my loves xoxo

“…”

Oh no.

“…Well,”

I have to be dreaming…

“Needless to say, I brought your package inside, Y/n.”

THERE’S NO WAY!!!

Being an introvert can have its trivial times; you should know that. Looking back on your life, you can’t seem to say you had the drive to stand out, an expertise you regret not putting effort into. You couldn’t do it; you’ve tried but to no avail! Going out of your comfort zone is too scary, shivering or freezing on the spot whenever you’re being spoken to or fumbling with words when trying to make a point. Man, it’s so embarrassing! It sucks — you’re a grown adult, and yet you can barely get through any gathering without anxiety rattling your bones.

Some are good at talking with others or are lucky enough to be naturally blessed with a social spirit. Some people like your boyfriend, for example. 

Yes, you have a boyfriend. 

Suguru Geto, your partner, wasn’t a complete extrovert. Honestly, he’s comfortable keeping to himself if he could choose. After meeting you, he preferred dates when you visit each other’s dormitories and enjoy each other’s company. However, compared to you, his people-pleasing skills outclassed yours unquestionably. Geto knew how to talk, drawing people in with his mellow tone and inviting aura. He was good at mingling and making everyone feel comfortable around him. You were a victim to it, lured in by his charm and soft ambiance.

He was terrific, a role model to you. How he would efficiently put himself out there while you stayed close in his shadow never failed to inspire you. The way he spoke, how he listened intently to others’ concerns, and his maturity seen as a dependable figure to lean on. It’s absurd to think that such a marvelous man fell in love with you and asked to court you.

You and Geto have dated since your junior year of college; what you once thought would be a tiny crush on one of the school’s notorious heartthrobs became your first and longest-running relationship! How did that happen!? You couldn’t tell; one moment, you two were paired up for an end-of-semester project, and he managed to have you relax and talk with him daily. The next thing you know, he’s asking you to live with him in his apartment the second you finish graduation. Now, you two have been a couple for nearly half a decade. It’s unbelievable to think about.

But even with how long you two have been together, there are moments where you feel as though you weren’t doing your part. Being in a relationship is such a hurdle for an awkward person, aka you, such as going stiff whenever old friends of Suguru pop up and greet him or him inviting you along to parties only for you to stay glued to a corner in silence. You felt as though you were…boring? Dull? Deadweight!? The list goes on, and the guilt never tires you out.

And Geto – God bless him – has repeatedly expressed and assured you that you didn’t have to feel as such. His alluring purple eyes and soothing voice vouch that he doesn’t mind standing in as your sponsor and speaking for you, and you are eternally grateful to the stars above for gracing a loving and understanding boyfriend your way. Nonetheless, the stress that churns your stomach doesn’t go away. He’s always been the one to voice for you, attend to you, and look out for you. Hell, even in the bedroom, he’s doing most of the work. Again, he’s never complained nor seems to ever will, but still!

He’s done so much for you, and you want to meet him at least halfway and make him feel appreciated. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do something special for your man!

Here was the plan: going out and buying stuff meant talking to people, and talking meant letting strangers know about your business; merely thinking about it had you trembling a storm. So yeah, nope. You went on the Internet and found sites catering to your search. You can’t say you were the type to wear anything risqué, especially in the bedroom. So, you dialed up your two best friends, Mei Mei and Shoko, to help you find stuff that they thought would look nice for you to wear.

Luckily, they came in clutch and found something for a beginner like you! It’s not something you’d wear in public—you’d rather die—but it’s a good start when implementing new things into your lifestyle. You added the item to your cart, purchased it, and waited silently for your package to arrive. To say you were anxious about this new step of adulthood was on the nail, but you beamed with glee once you got the notification that your bundle would be delivered today!

Before then, you decided to nap and wait for the item to be delivered to your apartment door. You woke up to that once you saw the notice on your phone, yawning your way out of the shared bedroom to retrieve it.

However, what you saw as you entered the living room stopped you dead in your tracks, and your eyes widened with absolute horror.

What you should have accounted for was that today was a Thursday, meaning Geto would usually come home from work on weekdays. So, while you were snoring in the comfort of your blanket, your boyfriend was the first to see a mysterious box with your name on it at his doorstep. And to add more salt to the wound, you caught him in the act unboxing the package and inspecting its contents, and you’re too shocked to fall on your knees at what he has in his hands.

Geto sat on the living room couch, the box perched on the coffee table opened with the wrappings decorating the brown table surface. His eyes find your figure to latch onto, but yours honed on what he was inspecting. In his right hand was a black lacy top meant to be worn around a chest—the other holding onto a headband with bunny ears of velvet material. 

This is where we lay our current scene; astounded, you could only stand in place — like Geto — at the sight before you. And with every passing second, you wanted nothing but to explode into bits. Your boyfriend had found your package and opened it!

Of course, you’d be stammering your words! “W-Where did you get that!?” What a silly question; where else would he have gotten it, dumbass?

Nonetheless, the dark-haired man answers after a forced cough. “Well, umm, I saw it at the door coming from work. I brought it in and was going to let you know, but you were asleep, and I…didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Why did you open it if you knew it was mine??”

Geto raised his hands defensively, still holding onto the items. “I–I’m sorry! I thought it was something different, like the cute glass cups you liked and ordered last week. I figured I would set those up on your behalf. I had no idea it would be something…” Your feet suddenly felt heavy, watching your boyfriend scan the lace top. “Like this.”

Any attempt to fight the mini shakes of your knees was impractical, and your throat was going so dry that you were scared to swallow.

“This doesn’t seem like something you would buy; could someone have accidentally sent this with the wrong information?” He inquires with furrowed brows. “Better not be some fucked up prank or whatever.”

“N-No, it’s, I…” Fuck, this had to be the worst scenario to admit this. “….I did mean to buy it.”

Have you ever had those moments where people would look at you after saying something that you wish you hadn’t? You indeed hated those moments; they made you feel so scrutinized by the public judging you. And seeing your man’s eyes widen and his expression morphed his lips to a small “o” shape? Oh, you couldn’t breathe adequately.

“You bought,” your quivering lips worsen when his left wrist flicks with the bunny-eared headband. “This?”

Your hands come to your face, shielding yours from his as you silently squat down with the weight of your humiliation. The shakes rock your entire frame, and you can sense your tears forming. This officially was the worst day ever; out of all the dilemmas that could happen, why did it have to be the worst one of all?!? Your partner had found out about the out-of-the-norm purchase you made without you present to explain yourself first. Now he probably thinks he’s dating some freak into weird shit. Can this day get any worse!?!

You wanted to cry, hoping the floor beneath you would give way and ingest you out of this cold, cruel world. But alas, you’re still here and can hear the footsteps approaching your crouching state, and you jolt when Geto embraces you.

“Y/n,” God, why did he say your name like that? His tone was smooth like honey, and he rubbed your back as he brought you closer. “It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to judge you or anything; I was just curious, is all. Sorry, I opened your package without letting you know, okay?… Ahh, did I make my sweet angel cry?” Raven brows scrunched together at the view of you burrowing into his chest more. “Aww, Y/n, I’m sorry…”

Yes, you were indeed sniffling into his sweatshirt. Although, it’s not that he opened your stuff without your consent that upset you the most. You whine while moving your face, “I just…wanted to do something different.”

“Hmm?” Geto’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, speaking to you in a low mode. “What’s the reason, sweetie?”

“Because, well,” you chewed the inside of your cheek as they warmed. “I just felt like I wasn’t…Like—sigh, you’ve done so much for me in this relationship, and I’m so lucky to have you as my boyfriend. But I feel like I don’t do my part as I should, you know?” Nothing is said from the other, so you continue. “I just–sniff–want you to know that I appreciate you and all you’ve done, although I didn’t know if my words would do me justice. So, I, uhh,” your thumbs find their way to fiddle with themselves. “I asked Shoko and Mei Mei for help and bought…..this to wear for you.”

Three seconds pass without saying anything, then six. At ten seconds, the silence suffocates you and probes your unease more and more. 

However, his chest’s sudden rise and fall startles you, along with his pleasant laughter. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Your body’s rigid compared to his lively motion. “My angel was gonna doll up for me?”

“Yeah, and you ruined it!” You fuss, your cute teary face all hot and puffy as you complain. “I just wanted to do something special for you after I finally muster up the courage to go out of my comfort zone and do something nice and…well, sexy,” you cringed internally at the final word. Yet, it was true. 

Geto hums through your explanation. “You’re always sexy to me.”

“That’s not the point!” He laughs at your remark, the sound filling you with warmth. “I–…I’m different compared to you. Whenever we’re out, you’re so much more social than me; I feel like I’m a burden or make it seem I need you to watch over me or something…And I know you’ve said you’re okay with it and don’t mind, but it’s….sniff–I don’t know, like I’m putting more on your plate when it’s more of a ‘me’ problem…”

Your eardrums pick up low chuckles. Then, like the Prince Charming he is, Geto uses his hand to bring your chin up. Your face warms up at his handsome face in your vicinity. “Baby, although I appreciate you going out your way to do something for me—believe me, I could jump over the moon right now—you don’t have to go outside what’s comfortable to you to impress me or anything.”

“But I—“

“I mean it; I really don’t mind that I have to be some voucher for you. It’s not a burden; that’s just who you are. And if that’s the case, you’re too cute as hell the way you are.” You didn’t see his small smile grow because your eyes bashfully averted away from his gaze. “Now, if you want to build your confidence, don’t be afraid to ask me for help, okay? No need to force yourself to change up for the sake of ‘appeasing’ me or feel as though you’re not fitting whatever bullshit mold of an appropriate partner you’re expected to be.”

“Suguru…”

“Y/n,” your name pierces your heart like an arrow as his hand prompts your face back to him; God, he’s so dreamy. “I like you no matter what. You’re my princess; your troubles are my troubles. I’d tell you long ago that you’re bothersome if it wasn’t. But you’re not, so don’t put too much weight on yourself. Promise not to stress yourself over this, okay?” He boops your nose, “Remember: communication is key, right?”

Once again, you’re reminded how lucky you are to have such a man like Suguru Geto to court you. So understanding and attentive to your feelings and wrapping you in his blanket of love constantly makes it hard not to fall in love all over again. Chewing your bottom lip doesn’t even help the heat of your cheeks creeping onto your ears. 

“You’re right,” you almost melt under his lips as he kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” your heart skips a beat. “But what are we gonna do with all this?” He points to the open package with his chin. “Now I feel kinda bad for having you buy this for me and ruining the special occasion.”

Wincing at the box, you remove yourself from Geto’s embrace to inspect the contents. “Honestly, looking at them in real time, I regret buying them. I’ll return them tomorrow or Monday, seeing I don’t necessarily need—”

“Woah, woah,” you stop in your tracks at your boyfriend’s exclamation. “Why are you returning them?” 

Huh? “Well, I mean, there’s no need for them, no? It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, but you already spent so much money for my sake. Plus,” Geto picks up the bunny ear headband from the package. “If this is what you were gonna wear for me, then it would be kind of upsetting if I didn’t see you wear it at least once.”

Oh, God, no. “S–Suguru, it’s totally fine; I can just—“ Oh no, he’s looking at you with that face, his eyebrows slightly trenched with a minuscule sad glint in his expression. Your stomach was doing flips out of guilt and concern, and the formidable gets worse when he asks the following:

“Y/n,” you swallow spit thickly as the man dangles the headband around. “Would you please wear this tonight?”

The question nails you to the ground, frozen in place as it rings within your mind. You? Wearing this for tonight?! “N–No, I can’t!!”

“Why not? You bought it to be worn!”

“Yes, but t-that was before you looked through my package and didn’t give me the chance to try it on myself!” When you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than before, the embarrassment of this predicament humbles you. “And thanks to you—“

“T-Thanks to me??”

“—I don’t wanna wear it anymore!!”

Geto raises his other hand in defense. “Okay, okay! Look, I’m sorry; it’s my bad. But, to be honest, I’m thrilled that you went out of your way to think of doing something for me out of nowhere, and as I’m looking at this outfit,” He glances at the rest of the materials in the box. “I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it.” You can’t tell if your heart is thumping from his words or because you’re about ten seconds away from combusting. “So…One night to test it out, yeah? And if you surely don’t like it, then you can ship it back tomorrow.”

He’s so good at that, using his charm and words to shade you into rational thought. You take a huge breath and exhale through stressed nostrils, and your wish to dig a hole and rot away increases. 

Of course, you bought the items to treat your boyfriend for something out of the norm; that was the entire point of the plan! But what is the use of following a plan when you’ve let your guard down, and the element of surprise backfires in a way that you had foolishly unforeseen?! There’s no way you could put that stuff on you now that you’ve been exposed. Absolutely not!

“I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it…”

And yet, Geto’s words repeat like a broken record, each time making you as timid as the last. He wants to see you wear what you had bought, so eager to marvel at his partner adorning such risqué clothing that you don’t comprehend how you put said purchase in your cart! The thought of wearing such a thing in front of your man bubbles an excitement that is borderline frightening yet new; picturing his expressions and imagining his compliments is dangerous for your brain to form a headache.

But not as dangerous as the slight friction of your inner thighs pressing close to each other.

With a stare downcast and fidgeting thumbs, you ask, “…Just for tonight?” 

And Geto assures you with a nod.

“Only for tonight.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Geto sat on the bed in silence, listening to the ticks of the bedroom clock on the wall as he waited patiently.

As you two entered the bedroom, the man found his place on the bed, a still figure in the dimly lit room. You, on the other hand, made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. “Wait here…D-Don’t peek inside!” You commanded him, your voice betraying a hint of shyness. He obeyed, settling on top of the comforter.

Minutes soon went to double digits; nervousness wasn’t something that usually struck Geto. But the more he sat on the bed and listened to your mutters behind the door–distancing the two–the more he couldn’t help but feel an itch to worry for you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Y–Yes!” That didn’t sound convincing… “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“Okay…”

And so he waited for a minute. Which turned to two minutes…Three…..

Anticipation transitioned to unease, calling out to you once more. “Y/n?” No answer; not a good sign. The tall man gets up and strides to knock on the bathroom door. “Baby? Everything alright?” Nothing, even if he knocks on the white surface again.

CREAAAAK…!

But his frets are handled once he hears the sound of the door opening slowly. He steps back to make way for the person on the other side of the door, and lo and behold, you stand.

There are things in Geto’s life that never cease to amaze him—you being one of them. From the moment he saw you, he swore that in his life, there had never been something that looked so mesmerizing and captured his eye in an instant, and Gojo and Shoko are always sure to tease the guy for such a confession. And the time you reciprocated his feelings and accepted being his domestic other half, words could not describe the elation his poor heart couldn’t handle. 

Right now, he is experiencing those same feelings when he’s with you. His expectations were blown out of the water once you entered the plane again.

Your face was the first thing he looked to, a sheepish yet cute expression that went with the adorable white bunny ear headband you adorned at the top of your head. Your casual attire had been withdrawn to the bathroom tiles, substituted with the outfit you had been fussing about until now. Your chest harbored a black lacy negligee with intricate designs that had Geto’s purple eyes dance and trace around; the faint drapes of the gown cascaded down to your upper thighs, yet your underwear could still be seen. It matched the lacy black thong that made your boyfriend gulp thickly at how gorgeous your hips looked–not to mention the tiny bow at the top center. And to complete the look, black stockings come up your knees.

“…”

There is silence between you and him. The only sound you can use to distract yourself is the beat of your heart.

“…”

But the longer you wait for a response, the louder the rhythm. 

“…”

The lack of his voice was killing you – eating you alive – and you’re sure that you’re bound to faint if this kept going. Did I wear it wrong? Do I look weird?! Oh God, please say some— 

“Y/n”

You squeaked. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you please,” Geto takes a few steps closer, enough for his hands to come around your waist and pull you in. You almost choke on the air. “Remind me to thank Mei Mei and Shoko first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Wh–What the—What does that mean—?”

“You look amazing.” Three simple words have you still. “Like, seriously. Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” He leans around to look at the details of your sides, and your brain short circuits when he moves behind you and lifts the negligee to see the rear of your panties. What is happening… “Holy shit, this suits you so well.”

“Re…Really?”

“Really.” You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he surveys every physical thing about you. “I’m so tempted to grab my phone to take a picture.”

“Oh my God, please don’t!!” Your frightened hands grab his sweatshirt with a vigorous grip, contrasting the trembling owner. “Don’t take a picture, please!!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” the dark-haired partner assures you through a fit of laughter, his warm, slender hands finding your fists and pounding him. Again, you are frozen stiff when he kisses your temple. “Besides, I prefer not sharing something as beautiful with anyone else.”

You don’t know how many compliments you can take before spiraling into a puddle. “You really do like it.”

“I love it,” another kiss to your cheek while his hands now find purchase on your waist. Oxygen suddenly feels foreign when you’re so close to him to pick up the cologne on his clothes. “It looks so much better now that you’re wearing it. You really know how to spoil me, huh, angel.”

Was it him being spoiled right now or you? How he spoke to you had your heart racing uncontrollably since you left the bathroom. You’ve been a complete nervous wreck from the moment your friends probed you to buy this outfit up until now, and now you can honestly feel that you’re feeling a sense of glee wearing it because your boyfriend likes it so much. Regrets no longer linger in your bones, goosebumps calm down on your skin, and you hum as you return the embrace. 

That is…until you feel something pressed against you. Something….hard.

Curiosity sprinkles your pretty little head until it snaps and your hips sway to experiment. A subtle jolt rocks Geto—confirming your hypothesis.

“Su..Suguru…” You don’t know why, but the following words felt prohibited to leave your lips. “Is that—“

“Hnnm…Sorry,” he purrs abjectly. “Guess I got a little too excited.” He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you, and your stomach churns at the sight of his stare, holding a misty, lustful glint. You don’t even mention his hands silently moving to cup your ass. “Is that too much, baby?”

Violet eyes latched with yours make you shiver, suppressing a gasp when he throws a slick rut to grind the tent of his dark sweatpants on you. “N–No!” You squeaked, feeling small when his smile got broader.

“So sweet like always,” a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips feels like clouds. He then steps back out of your arms, pulling down his sweats to reveal the erection contained by the boxer briefs. Geto sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head. “So, will my sweet bunny girl care for me tonight?” Seeing you gawk at him, he stifles a chuckle, and it takes a good mental slap to bring you back to reality. A few seconds pass, and you finally build up the courage to walk forward and crouch between his spread legs. 

Mini prayers replay in your brain as your hand hesitantly touches the clothed shaft, the firmness of it getting stiffer and stiffer as your fingers touch thoroughly. When you’re ready, you bring the hem of his underwear down, welcoming his cock to the open air for it to intimidate you with its girth. Precum trails from the urethra, traveling down from the corona, foreskin, and underside. God, it’s been a while since you were up close and personal with this thing; its sheer size is enough to reconsider the regret you threw out minutes ago. Too late now, though.

Come on, Y/n, you use your inner thoughts to motivate you. You’re doing this for Suguru; don’t chicken out now! So, you bring your lips to meet the head of his cock, earning a hum from the man above. Blowjobs have never been your forte; again, it’s been a while since you’ve had his cock near anything outside of your lower regions. But today was different as you used your tongue to lick the lip of the cockhead, the salty flavor of his fluid teasing your tastebuds. And with the sounds of him whimpering, you begin to remember the routine as the seconds go. Your mouth takes in his tip with hollowed cheeks, and your hands grasp around the shaft before you glide up and down.

“Hahhhh, yes, sweetie,” Geto soothed, biting his lip at the display of you pleasing him with your plump lips. “Just like that…Nnngh…!” His words fuel more confidence in your motion, using this to move to the next step and take in as much of his shaft as you can. You don’t go all the way to the hilt–a task that you’re afraid will have you choking– but once you reach halfway, your head starts to bob up and down at a gradual pace. Black brows furrow at the movement; fuck, you felt so good for him. So nice and warm on his dick; he wouldn’t mind having his whole evening dedicated to this. “Fuck, my love, loosen your jaw for me…Mmmm, good girl, that’s it. Keep sucking like that.”

It’s not before long that you find the groove; albeit sucking on Geto amateurishly, he places a hand on your head, which you can only assume is that you’re doing a decent job. Saliva coats the limb busying your oral cavity, mixing with the excess come that escapes and spreads with your lips going to and fro. Your tongue goes on to flick and lap on his tip some more, evoking the hottest moans you’ve ever heard from him. And while you stroke his member, your free hand finds his scrotum and massages the pair in unison, a buck of his hips as your thumb presses down on the testicles with a curl. Your bobbing becomes frequent, a mediocre cadence that has your partner throw his head back. The veins scraping along the upper walls of your mouth are too erotic for your mind to comprehend

“Shiiiit, I can’t—Nnnmm!” He hisses before he cups your wet cheeks. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

Your eyes open and peer to the person talking above you. With a soft ‘pop,’ you release his length before placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Yew fink shoow?” You speak with a mouthful of his dick to his frenulum, humoring the dark-haired man.

“Yes, little bunny,” he teases, and you can sense the throbs between your legs getting worse after referring to you with that title. “Wait, I just remembered something…Hold on, lie on the bed for me.”

You’re gently pushed off him as Geto stands up from the bed, confused. You take your place atop the bed, and he grabs something from his sweatpants and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water from the sink fills the silence before it’s shut off. He then returns to the bedroom holding a bottle of lube you’re familiar with in one hand, and the other with a wet, metal…fluffy…looks like a kind of—

Eyes shoot wide open when you finally register what he’s holding, and the anxiety hits you like a punch to haunt you. “Wh–W-Where did y-you get that?!”

“I saw that you left this in the box before dressing up,” no, you didn’t forget a damn thing. You deliberately avoided the very item that Geto was holding because looking at it was embarrassing enough; it would be horrifying to have this in the same room as you now! Between his thumb and forefinger was a metal butt plug–a small one, nothing too major–with what appeared to be a white fluff ball at the end. It’s meant to be worn with what you wore, but these bunny ears already trampled your dignity. Adding an anal toy to the frey might as well have you sign up for assisted suicide! “I figured we needed it to complete the look.”

“N-No! No, no, no, absolutely not!” Rejections fly out of your system. “That’s too much!”

Geto blinks. “You think so? It’s pretty small from what I’ve seen.”

You’ve seen these before!?!? “Even then, I don’t wanna—“

“Didn’t you see this with the set before you bought it?”

You almost choked on your tongue. “W-Well…Y-Yes, but,” your thumbs find themselves fidgeting, anything to distract the humiliation that overshadows your nervous state. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to…wear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—” embarrassing as hell! A bunny tail as a butt plug!? Just kill me!! “—It’s…..It’ll look weird on me.”

Oh, how you didn’t know how much of a switch that flipped for Geto, the other quietly thought to himself before speaking again. “Y/n,” you perked at the mention of your name. “Turn around for me.” Chewing on your lips, you shook your head—you knew what he was doing. “C’mon, now, I thought you were my sweet girl.” You flatten your lips when he comes close to squeeze your cheeks. “Please? Wear this for me, my little bunny?” 

Oh, for God’s sake, this night was getting more challenging to get through with the hour. Inner dialogue can’t even bring you to a consensus, as your conscience is getting in the way of coming to a decision. On the one hand, you feel as though you’re venturing out of your comfort zone enough, wearing this flustering nightgown and these damn bunny ears. Yet, at the same time, this isn’t about you; this is all meant to be for your partner, something entirely out of the norm to make him feel special. And you being reluctant to accept his wishes is just pushing you back to square one and defeating the purpose of this entire dilemma, right? 

Your hands find your face to shield, releasing a long sigh that should have stretched to your final days. Nonetheless, you slump your arms down in defeat, and a short nod is given: “.......okay.”

Without being told again, you feebly follow Geto’s request and turn around. Your lower half is the only thing in his line of sight. Your lips can’t stop quivering in such a position, and breathing becomes arduous once you feel your boyfriend’s weight dent the mattress. You jolt when his hand comes to the top of your laced thong, bringing the material down to expose the bare skin of your ass to him. Damn it! A pillow within your proximity is brought to your face, using it to hide yourself from the world.

However, “Aww, don’t be so shy on me, baby,” Slender fingers faintly brush from your spine down to the very crevice of your bottom, making your body shudder. “Shouldn’t be hiding that pretty face from me.” The sound of your gasp, when his lubed fingers teeter around your rear entrance, ignites a flame, and now he has a thirst he’s itching to indulge with. “Shhhh, breathe, my love. Gonna go real nice and slow for you, okay?”

The pillow muffles your moans as Geto begins to push one finger inside your puckered hole slightly. The stretch of the digit is a pain you have never experienced, making you whimper like a poor babe. Your boyfriend coaxes you through it, adding more lube to ease your ass as his finger goes back and forth to prepare you. Adding another finger causes you to shake your head, and your entrance accommodates the insertions, whether you like it or not.

A full minute or more passes where your ass is played with, and Geto smoothes you with a rub of your buttcheeks as he removes his digits out of your lubed hole. “Now, time to test this out…” A sudden chill has your arch, and the cold metal of the butt plug has you clamping involuntarily, yet the raven-haired partner reminds you to relax your body while he pushes the toy inside you. It doesn’t invade with the snap of the finger; thirty seconds in, and your butthole is slowly but surely adapting to the alien plaything. And before you know it, you feel the whole thing finally be swallowed into your rear walls; you grip the pillow as your mouth releases silent cries. 

“Haaah…I-Is it in?” You lifted your head to inquire. 

“Yes, angel,” he playfully smacks your ass, and you jerk at the unexpected contact. “Damn, now you look all cute and sexy with this on.” Geto then shifts to stand on his knees before maneuvering above you, removing the pillow from beneath you so you can’t hide yourself from him any longer. And more trembles crawl all over your body when you feel his solid cock create friction on the rift of your ass. “Lift your butt a bit for me,” your hips follow his hands, guiding you upward until you meet his pelvis. “Good girl…Gonna start putting it inside, okay?”

You nod leisurely, grabbing the comforter beneath you as Geto pulls the thong to the side. It’s no surprise to see that your cunt is covered in your slick, the tip of his member queued to kiss your labia. The lascivious man hisses at the sensation, anticipation climbing up as he pushes himself unhurriedly. The same goes for you, your mouth agape with quieted shrieks when the cockhead makes it inside your vagina, gripping the sheets as he slowly pushes more of himself, every inch of his penis becoming greater and greater, inaudible babbles once the base meets your folds.

Geto allows you a couple of seconds to stabilize your breathing, starting with excruciatingly slow thrusts–so painfully slow that you can feel every dent and vein that ventures inward and outward your chasm; it’s hard for your hips not to move on their own. With every pull, your inner walls clench on the shaft as if wanting more as he leaves your warmth. And every push makes you full to the brink of tears, and your brows trenched together as your fists ball the sheets.

“Mmaahh…Nnahaah…!” The brush of your velvety channel feels good within the minute, and the insertion pain is now being replaced with pleasure. Your roll to the ceiling at the graze of your G-spot, the butt plug made your nerves more sensitive with how busy your lower half was. And once he’s warmed up enough, your companion turns up the speed of his ruts. “Taahhh, I, ohhhGod…! Sugu—Oooo!!” Did he just poke your cervix!? You sobbed out loud.

“Nnmm, holy shiiit, you feel so good, sweetie,” Geto moans, taking in the view before him. The lingerie you were wearing gave a beautiful image of your backside, his indigo orbs survey from the muscles of your back to your prompted ass. Holy hell, it was driving him crazy, watching how the flesh of your butt reverberates with the smack of his pelvis. It makes him want to go ever faster, harder. And don’t get him started on the white bunny tail butt plug; shit was too cute to resist and toy with, pulling on the item lightly and turning it around.

The action had your holes clenching simultaneously. “Shh–Shhtop, Suguuu!!” You wailed out, toes curling as he taunted your anus with light pulls and pushes. “D-Don’t do that…!”

“Heh, sorry, my bunny girl,” God, the way he was teasing you was literal hell on Earth with how he’s using your body right now. “You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Aiisshh! Fuhuck, you’re squeezing me so hard…Hmm? You like it when I tease you, huh, baby?”

You shook your head no in a rushed manner, the heat of your face already coursing to your ears. But then your frame jerked along with the sound of something, and it was a hand smacking on the skin of your butt.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Geto chuckles above you as you cry. The same hand he used to slap you soothes the blow. “You know you can be honest with me. At least your body is…Don’t you like being close to me like this?” You don’t reply, too busy squealing at another graze of your sensitive spots.  So, he slaps your buttocks once more. “Don’t ignore me, love.”

“—Mmmph! Ahh-hahh, I-I,” You swallow spit before choking on it. “I can’t…Hic, it’s shoh embarrassing…!”

“Aww, is the little bunny still scared?” He then bends down to your ear, a big move on his part as you swear you’re bound to shut down from the closeness. “Hmm? What’s so embarrassing?”

A sluggish pull back before Geto snaps his hips into you harshly, another jab to your cervix practically has you seeing stars. “Hoooh!! Be–Becausee!!” God, it’s so hard to think right now, the pound of your head getting harsher with the increased heat. “Y–You—Ahhaa! Youu make me…s-sound sho dirt—Eeeyahh!” 

“Oh?” He licks your ear before nibbling on the helix. “You don’t like it when I fuck you like this? Don’t like it when I whisper to your ear while you scream for me?” You shake your head no, which is extinguished once Geto stuffs your mouth with his fingers. Your tongue, played with by his fore and middle finger, has you mewling like no tomorrow. “Hmmm, that’s a funny thing to say when your pussy can’t stop twitching on me. Make it seem like you’re not embarrassed to milk my cock dry, huh, princess.” 

“Nnoohh, it’s not—hic—not like that!” A tear trickles down a hot cheek as you suck on his fingers, his thumb there unaware to wipe it. “Don’t say stuff like that…!”

“Why? Too crude for my angel’s ears?” He keeps teasing you, “Even though we’ve fucked lots of times, you still act like such a cutie.”

“Stooop,” Lord have mercy. Any more than this, and you’re bound to melt away sooner rather than later. “D-Don’t tease me…”

He can’t help it, not when you sound so cute and flustered because of him. It makes him think of an idea and straightens himself off of you. But not away from you — he then grabs your leg and rests it on his shoulder while straddling the other, changing the position so you can look at each other. Something a lot more intimate as he goes back to drilling his length into your heat. With a smug grin, he asks, “Is this less embarrassing for you, sweet baby?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat; no, this is much worse! Your shrieks returned to erupt out of your figure as Geto’s pace increased. The new angle achieves having his dick venture deeper inside your throbbing channel, pounding to you until the hilt meets your southern lips, and the bump and grind of your clitoris with the motion is enough to have you winded. “—Ohoohh!! Dooahh! N-Nooo, d-don’t look…!” You try to shield your face with your forearm.

Yet Geto instantly refutes that, using his free hand to move it while he bends back down; his added weight has you whining aloud. “Don’t do that,” he groans at the contract of your walls, retaliating with more rough plunges. “No more hiding from me; I wanna see that pretty face always.”

“Suguu, pleasee—Nnnn!” Scrapes to the walls of your vaginal walls are even more dangerous in this position. “T’oo faaast!!”

“Hnngh! FFfuckin’ shit…But you feel so good,” Geto presses his forehead onto yours. “You feel so good, you look so good, like holy fuck! You drive me too crazy; it’s–Ghhh!- just not right how you can make me go wild. I wanna see it all, wanna see how cute you look, how dirty you look, and how fucking hot you sound because of me—and only me.” A kiss to your nose before placing one on the corner of your lips. “Starting now, I wanna see all these sides of you, so don’t hide them from me…” 

You are given no room to reply to his statements as a kiss to your mouth finally seals the deal for tonight. Light pecks gradually dwell into steamy, longing smooches, tongue and teeth classing for intimacy. It’s all it takes for you to sink into his touch finally and the comforter beneath you, submitting to him as he finishes you off.  

Geto then rolls his hips at an erratic cadence, and relentless hits to your cervix have you blubbering helplessly into his lips. Ungovernable throbs around his girth are ineluctable, the climb of your orgasm climbing up tenfold with the brush of your clit up against his pelvis. OhhhGod! It’s coming, I’m gonna—“Mmmmph!”

The peak of your crescendo has you moaning deep into the kiss, your writhing figure submitted to the end of your session as your cunt flutters around Get’s girth as the shocks of the climax rock your entire body. And your contraction is all your partner needs to let go of the reins and cease to his own release, his pulsating shaft expelling his load deep into your palpitating vagina. The two of you continue to kiss as your bodies heave and jolt, with the last of the aftershocks coursing through your nerves. 

He breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air in sync. Drool slips from your lips and comes down to your chin, and Geto smiles before kissing your cheek. “Thank you for the gift,” he commends you. “Ya sure I can’t get at least one picture of you?”

You’re undoubtedly out of breath, yet your facial expression doesn’t fail to display unease. “Please…stop teasing me,” you sniffle with hooded eyes.

“Okay, my sweet bunny girl,” he chortles. “Well, at the very least, let’s go another round, ‘kay?”

“Wha—H-huh!?!?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…I will never listen to your advice ever again.”

“Wow, rude?”

“Right, like whatever happened to ’thank you’?”

As far as mornings go, this one was ultimately out of the norm. When was the last time you woke up with your body sore to the bone? Because the moment the sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and landed on your eyes, you couldn’t move a single finger or toe without feeling a sense of heaviness. Or maybe it was because you found that your tall boyfriend was still sound asleep; his slim frame was spooning you close to him. You could hear his light snore as he rested in the crook of your neck and arm to your shoulder with a strong leg between yours. 

Your face warmed up at the realization that he was so close to your proximity, and it only worsens when you realize that you both are in the nude, which rarely [if not NEVER] happens! Where’s your pajamas? At the very least, an oversized shirt and panties! 

But you couldn’t find them anywhere. All you could see was a black negligee and a white bunny-eared headband, and memories of last night finally started to swim into your brain. But the true horror was when you saw the butt plug from before down on the comforter, and it slipped past your mind not to scream and kick the item in humiliating terror while abruptly waking up your partner. WHAT THE FUUUUCK!??!?

And to add the nail to the coffin, your body didn’t look like how you left it yesterday. As you got up to head for the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and felt like you witnessed a scene from a horror movie. Your skin was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, discoloration where it’s implied there were hickeys received all around your neck, stomach, and inner thighs. You were still wearing the black knee-high stockings. However, those looked utterly different from how they looked initially; tears and holes were found all over, but most prominently, the inside of your upper thigh area.

Speechless was the word to describe your puzzlement—appalled, dumbstruck, void of thinking as your reflection showcased an entirely different person. Th-…There’s no way… That’s all you could say to yourself, but it was the way.

Once Geto left for work, it wasn’t any easier for you to work around the house. Working remotely suddenly became an obstacle, as every time your mind recalled the events that transpired the night before, you’d become too flustered to continue your work. You couldn’t even walk into your shared bedroom, too rattled to the point that you just used the guest bathroom! The notion of embarrassment was getting challenging to function today; had you known this would’ve been the effect of buying that damn outfit, you would’ve stopped yourself!

Hence, you’re now complaining to the people who probed you to purchase it in the first place. “A ‘thank you’? I could barely enter past the threshold of my own room, and you want me to thank you!?”

It was late afternoon. You were washing dishes and drying them in the kitchen while putting them aside. But you weren’t alone; your laptop sat at the kitchen island with an application running. On the screen, a window harbored two screens with different faces: one woman with brown hair appearing to smoke out her balcony, and the other with pale blue hair styling her hair to a bun. 

The brunette, Shoko, responds to your words. “Y/n, calm down; all you did was have sex in a bunny costume; nothing radioactive happened there.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I did something radioactive!” You retorted, wiping the sponge across the wet plate concerningly fast. You pick up the headband from last night and grimace. “Damn this headband…God, I’m so sore.”

“Having sex for an hour straight will do that to a person,” a nerve is stricken when the other speaks; Mei Mei is now done styling the back of her hair with a sly smile. “Pfft, I still find it funny that you passed out.”

“It’s not funny!!” To your dismay, you only make your two best friends laugh even harder. “This is not how this is supposed to be; I don’t even recognize my own body…You saw the pictures!”

Shoko titters, “Yeah, I saw, and it looks like Geto couldn’t keep his hands off you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the smoke. “Isn’t that a good thing, though? It means that he liked the gift and appreciated it tenfold.”

“Exactly,” Mei Mei agrees. Your complaints seem to suggest that we completed the mission of making him feel special—which was, you know, the main reason you wanted to do it in the first place.”

“Oh, he felt special, alright,” you said, placing a dry plate on the rest. Although you’d been in a constant state of indignity, what they were saying was true. The whole point of making a fool of yourself and wearing a costume was meant to be outside the norm. It’s exciting for you and Geto, and you can assume that the outcome brought a satisfying end for both parties.

…However, it would be nice if it didn’t cost you a lot of hickeys and soreness. You sighed heavily, “You’re right…I’m just happy that he enjoyed it. He even said I looked cute dressed as his little bunny.”

“I bet!! Why didn’t you take pictures!?” Shoko complains, her device coming closer to her face to emphasize her disheartened tone of voice. 

“I would rather die than have photos of that of me around,” the thought alone causes an unsettling quiver.

But Mei Mei also voices her grievances. “Ehhh, but I bet you looked so adorable~. You better take pictures the next time you do something like that!”

You could’ve sworn your neck was nearly to break when you snapped your head to look at your laptop screen. “Are you insane; what do you mean next time?” 

A silver brow rises. “Oh, be real, Y/n; you really think this is some one-and-done type thing? I bet you ten dollars that Geto would love to pull those bunny ears out again.” 

The brunette chuckles after exhaling more smoke from her pretty lips. “Aye, maybe we should find you some more outfits to wear for him. Maybe we should have you in a fox costume next.”

Your mouth drops in displeasure, but Mei Mei beats you into saying something. “Mmm, now that’s a good idea; I saw something online with cute ears and a skirt. And,” her lavender eyes narrow with a scoff. “I’m sure you’d love to wear the butt plug tail of that one too, Y/n—“

“GOODBYE!!”

You slapped your laptop screen down as your farewell to your best friends, whom you’re sure are probably laughing to themselves for witnessing your reaction. 

Your cheeks are so hot that they are in discomfort; unbelievable. A next time!? You couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you’d be wearing something like last night again. Could you even look at bunny ears the same again after what just happened?! Bunny tails, too; what you primitively thought was cute and pure has now been tarnished to a suggestive and erogenous image. No, there’s unquestionably no way you would be put into that position ever again. No, no, nope, and no!!

DING-DONG!!

The sudden noise of the doorbell diminishes your reluctant energy within milliseconds. You checked the kitchen clock — Geto should be coming home right about now, but why would he be ringing the bell? Inquisitiveness draws up to your shoulders as you dry your hands, taking light steps to the door and opening it after unlocking. 

You leave a small opening to peak through, “Y-Yes?”

“Is that the lovely Y/n I’m seeing~?”

That voice…Not Geto’s, but familiarity sparks up, and recognition prompts you to open the door wider. 

Pure snowy white hair is the first thing that captures your attention, along with the dark shades concealing its owners’ eyes—a signature look of your partner’s friend, “Sa–Satoru?”

“Aye, you remembered to call me by my first name that time!” The named man was dressed down in his work attire, his hand holding his black blazer while he brought his sunglasses up for his azure eyes to throw a wink at you. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has!” Your perplexity was evident in your tone; you had forgotten just how tall the man was. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was finally able to catch your boy-toy here before ditching me at work,” Gojo brings your boyfriend into view with the tug of his collar, the raven-haired man expressing nothing but total irritation. “Dude owes me dinner, and I heard someone is cooking a nice meal tonight! Have room for another person?”

“Who said you were invited?” Geto questions his best friend after getting out of his hold.

“I did!” The white-haired man answers. “You owe me for saving your ass yesterday with that file scare—you’re welcome, by the way,” he ignores the glare of his friend. “And just be glad I’m asking for a home-cooked meal, or else I’d be draining your pockets at that new steak place that opened up recently.” 

“Unbelievable…” Geto sighs exasperately. “Hurry up and get in.”

You move out of the way so the men can enter your abode. “Excuse my intrusion~,” the blue-eyed man says as he takes off his dress shoes in the foyer and happily walks to the living room. 

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, baby.”

“It’s okay; I was done washing dishes anyway.”

“Mmm,” he brings you in for a hug, part of the routine when he returns home. “How’re you feeling now?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I feel…okay, still sore, but, you know…” He smelt so good, his cologne pleasantly sinking you in. 

“Heh, sorry,” he kisses your temple. “I had a good time; you really spoiled me.”

The heat in your cheeks ventures to your ears and nape, and your heart returns to racing at an irregular dance. The memories of last night all come back to haunt you once more; images of you being bent into different positions and crying out for Geto hit you one after the other. The lewd thoughts are too much for your pretty little head, especially when you imagine the tall, dark-headed man all sweaty and panting above you with a grin on his face like last night.

At this point, your face will need an ice pack because it’s getting hot. “I’m..really glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he takes your hand and after removing his shoes. “Can’t wait to try it again next time.”

And with those last two words, the world suddenly fell to a standstill. You didn’t hear what you just heard—no, you didn’t. “N-Next time?” You repeat.

“Of course!” he leads you down the hall to the open space. What, you thought you’d spend all that money on me for just one night?” No, I HOPED so! “Besides, I was looking online during my break at work, and I saw this fox variant look that I think would look real good on you—”

You couldn’t believe your ears; not only did Mei Mei prove you wrong, but now you have to deal with your boyfriend’s interest in wanting to indulge more in this idea you’ve brought into the relationship. What you thought and hoped would be for one night is now bound to haunt you for many days to come, and that thought in itself had you shaking in your slippers.

As well as the fact that you now owe your best friend cash for jinxing this situation. Damn her!

“Yo, Suguru.”

You perk up when you hear Gojo’s voice as you two enter the kitchen area. And just when you thought this world couldn’t chew and spit you out enough, the image of the white-haired man standing beside the kitchen island holding something in his hand mortifies you to the core.

“What’s with the bunny ear headband? I thought Easter went and passed already.” 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by alp (ringoya) + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Buy Me Presents ⟡˖ Boyfriends!Dad!Rafe x reader ⟡˖

𐙚 Your boyfriend sucks. But his dad? Well, he’s not so bad…𐙚

(Heavily inspired by the book “Birthday girl” by Penelope Douglas and the song “Buy Me Presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. It’s my lil bday gift to myself. Shout out my luv @cameronwillow for beta reading for me.)

Age gap(Rafe is early 40s Reader is mid 20s), Rafe is your Bf’s dad (duh! It’s the whole plot), Reader has a tramp stanp and nipple piercings, Male masterbation, Mutual pining(so so much pining), Thoughts of cheating, Actual cheating (not by Rafe or R), Jealousy/possessiveness Spanking, Pussy eating, Unprotected sex, Biting, Choking, Size kink, She’s a looong one, buckle up!! 18+MDNI!!

You love your boyfriend, you really do. And he isn’t a bad boyfriend. He just isn’t necessarily a good boyfriend either. The easiest way to put it is that he’s neglectful. In every sense of the word. It’s not out of character for him to forget to pick you up from your late night shifts at the bar you work at. He is constantly forgetting your plans, or just flat out ditching them in favor of hanging out with his friends. He never cleans up after himself unless you ask, and even then the chances are slim that he will actually do it. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know how to turn on the dryer. Why would he need to? He knows if he leaves the piles of dirty laundry long enough you’ll get sick of it and wash them yourself. And last but certainly not least, he is the least financially responsible person you’ve ever met. He misses work to the point where he gets fired from every job he’s ever had. He spends all his money on partying and eating out. And now? He’s screwed you out of your apartment that he hardly even pays for since he’s always late on bills.

He decided that having a fucking rager on a Tuesday night in your small apartment complex instead of picking you up from your double shift was a bright idea. You ended up having to get an uber home, which you absolutely couldn’t afford and by the time you made it home your place was trashed and your boyfriend was out front being hauled into a cop car. Apparently when your landlord asked him to shut the party down he got all agro and started screaming and arguing that it was his house and he can be as loud as he wants. And when your landlord didn’t agree? He punched him in the face. So he called the cops and they took him down to the station to cool off. This wasn’t the first time he was asked to break up a party like this, but it was the last. Your landlord evicted him and even though he hardly paid you still couldn’t afford it without even that small amount of help.

He ended up calling his dad from the police station to come bail him out and of course he did. He always does. That’s why Caleb Cameron can’t account for a single goddamn thing in his life, he always has daddy’s money to bail him out. That’s why you are where you are now, staying with his dad, for the foreseeable future. After Mr. Cameron bailed Caleb out, he offered you both a place to stay at his house. His nice house that he built. Which you of course tried to decline.

But after much convincing from both Cameron men, you agreed to move in while you save money to get another place on your own. His dad doesn’t need help with any of the bills but he asked that you and Caleb keep up on the chores and take turns making dinner every night. You’ve been here for a few weeks now and so far you’ve been doing everything. Caleb hasn’t even picked up a single sock off the ground.

Mr. Cameron or “Rafe” as he’s asked you to call him several times now, isn’t bad. He’s been very kind and generous to you since the moment you met him. Which wasn’t until the other day. Caleb never wanted to introduce you to him. You’ve seen him around and of course you know of Rafe Cameron, this island isn’t very big. But from what you can tell their relationship isn’t the best so you’ve never actually had a conversation with him up until now.

He’s been easy to coexist with though. He’s surprisingly low maintenance. Rafe spends most of his day working with the guys on his construction team and then he comes home and showers. If you aren’t working a late shift you always have dinner ready. He comes downstairs in fresh sweats and pops open a beer. Then you, him, and Caleb all eat together. At least you’re supposed to, Caleb was only here the first night you moved in, he’s spent every other night out. Leaving you and his dad to eat dinner together alone.

Tonight is one of those nights. Caleb went out to the bar with his friends, even after you told him you were making his favorite dinner for him. He left before it was even done. Rafe will be home anytime now though. You’ve noticed he’s usually home around five thirty so you have dinner ready and kept warm by five. You made chicken parmesan from scratch and it’s in the oven set to warm while you sit at the shiny marble kitchen island, doom scrolling on your phone. You hear a key in the lock and you hate that ears perk up. The door opens and you hear keys being dropped in a glass bowl before footsteps sound toward the kitchen. It takes him a few seconds to come into view because you also hear him unlacing his work boots, but when he does? You can’t stand that your stomach swoops at the sight of him.

Not only is Rafe generous, successful, cleans up after himself without being asked, he’s always on time and he always asks how your day is. He’s fucking gorgeous. His piercing blue eyes make your skin heat each time they’re on you. His messy mullet seems like he’s been cutting it for years, which there’s just something charming about. Like he could have someone do it for him but he’d rather just do it himself because it’s cheaper and easier. Not that he’s hurting for money. His dad might have cut him off and left him with nothing but once he found out he was having Caleb he refused to be like him. He built his own construction company from the ground up and worked odd jobs to get to that point so his son would never want for anything. His personality just makes him even more frustratingly sexy. It doesn’t help that his thick arms that always seem like they’re going to burst out of his t-shirts are covered in tattoos and his smile, god his smile, it gives you butterflies from your stomach down to your pussy. He always looks particularly edible when he gets off work though.

“Hey, Caleb here?” Rafe walks into the kitchen wearing dirty work jeans and a carhartt coat, his face has a few smudges on it and he really tests your strength when he pulls the jacket off. He’s only wearing a tight white tee that’s just as dirty as the rest of him, his broad chest and thick arms on display. You feel like you’re going to go insane when he reaches up to run his fingers through his hair and it causes his shirt to ride up and show a sliver of waist. You finally pull your eyes away from his body to meet his own and he has a brow raised in your direction. God, how long have you been ogling him? Hopefully he didn’t notice. Fuck.

“Oh, uh- no, he went out.” You let out a small sigh and shrug your shoulders trying to play it off like you don’t care. Like you didn’t make his favorite meal because you’ve hardly had any time together recently. Like you didn’t hope you could eat together then snuggle up and watch a movie together, maybe fuck. But apparently whatever party he went to tonight held priority over his own girlfriend.

“Mmm, he seems to go out a lot, huh?” Rafe chuckles and his lips quirk into a small smile but you can see the sadness in his eyes. Caleb is avoiding him and you both know that. But it’s not like him ditching you to go out is a new occurrence. “Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Kay, dinner is ready whenever you’re done. I waited to eat.” You don’t respond to his question about Caleb, you both know the answer, it doesn’t need to be said. His eyes linger on you for a moment and you don’t miss the way they flash to your thighs in your little sleep shorts momentarily before he turns and exits the room. You hate that just the smallest attention from him has your skin tingling. You’re just lonely, that’s all it is. He’s your boyfriend’s dad, you can’t have a crush on him. It’s just a fleeting attraction. You’re not blind, the man is walking sex. And it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve been fucked.

Around twenty minutes later Rafe comes downstairs and grabs his beer like he always does. Then he wanders into the dining room where you have the table set with dinner dished up. There’s an empty plate in front of the chair beside you in case Caleb decides to come home. But you know he won’t. Which makes it all the more hard to not drool over the way his dad is wearing grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top like it isn’t the sluttiest outfit a man could possibly wear.

Rafe could say the same about you though, sitting there in your little pajama shorts and a cropped tank top with a tiny zip up hoodie that you have unzipped halfway so it’s hanging off one of your shoulders. Smiling up at him from his dining room table that has never been set a day in its life up until you moved in with a warm meal prepared for him after a long day. It’s something he’s always wanted, someone to come home to, someone that cooks him meals that aren’t take-out or from the microwave. And he hates how sweet and full of life you are. He hates it because he loves it. You blast music and dance around while you clean. You bring the kind of noise to this house that was otherwise so quiet sometimes he felt like any sound he made bounced off the walls. And you’re so fucking pretty it almost hurts.

Especially because he can never have you. Not only is he old enough to be your father, you’re his son’s girlfriend for fucks sake. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy your presence. Especially if Caleb isn’t going to. He loves his son with all his heart but just in the short time you’ve been here he’s noticed he isn’t very attentive with you. He wishes that didn’t disappoint him and also fill him with something that is tinged with jealousy that he pushes away immediately. He just doesn’t like to see his son taking a woman like you for granted. If he had someone like you? He’d worship at her feet and do anything he could to make her happy. He really needs to find a way to control these thoughts he’s been having about you because it seems like they intensify the more time he spends around you and he can’t let a small attraction that he can tuck away in the back of his mind become anything bigger than that. Not with you. He’s just getting older and more lonely every year and you’re beautiful, easy to talk to, and living in his house, wearing those little tank tops and tight yoga pants. It’s just some minor lust, that’s all.

“I made chicken parm and there’s uh - mashed potatoes and sauteed veggies.” You gesture to the food on his plate as he sits down in the chair across from you.

“Thanks, looks good.” Rafe clears his throat and cuts a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it between his lips with a groan that has you clenching your thighs. “Damn, that’s delicious. This is Caleb’s favorite, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m sorry he’s not here.” You sigh and look down at your plate, pushing some food around with your fork. Mentioning the lack of your boyfriend’s presence has another wave of disappointment washing over you. You’re starting to wonder why you even get your hopes up anymore.

“You don’t need to apologize for him, he’s a grown man.” Rafe’s expression hardens slightly, he can’t help it. You made Caleb his favorite dinner and he flaked on you? Not only is he disappointed as his father but he also can’t believe any man would take your sweet gestures for granted. He’d die to have someone be this attentive with him. “I’m sorry he isn’t here.”

“Ha! He’s a grown man, you don’t need to apologize for him.” You throw his words back at him with a smirk and it makes him chuckle, the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

“Well, you got me there.” Rafe runs his hand over his head turning sideways under the guise of having to stretch but really he’s hiding the little smile that you keep seeming to bring to his face. Rafe thinks it might be a little too giddy to be coming from your boyfriend’s dad.”For what it’s worth, this is really good, thank you. I appreciate you cooking.”

“Yeah, no problem, just paying my dues.” It’s your turn to pretend to stretch. The words he said were so simple, but to you, they held so much meaning. To be appreciated for something you do, isn’t something you get very often. “I’m - um- I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah it’s really good.” He pokes the veggies on his plate with his fork and gives them a look of disdain that has you hiding a chuckle behind your hand. You’ve noticed he tends to eat around the healthy stuff you serve him. “But I could do without these veggies though.”

“I’ll make a healthy eater out of you, you’ll see.” You give him a playful glare that he returns with a smile he doesn’t bother to hide this time. “It’ll be good for your heart, old man.”

“Wow! I am not that old.” Rafe brings his hand to his chest in mock offense and it sends you both into a fit of laughter.

“Mhm, whatever you say old man. Let me know if you need help getting up the stairs after dinner!” You lean forward on your elbows and laugh and it takes every bit of willpower Rafe has to not linger on the way your tits bounce at your motions.

“You’re funny, I like talking to you.” You hate that the way he says that makes your body heat because you know he doesn’t mean it like that. And you shouldn’t want him to.

You really need to stop relying on Caleb for rides. This is the third time now that he’s forgotten to pick you up from your two AM shifts and you don’t really have many other options. Your coworkers already left you to lock up for the night, your sister isn’t answering her phone and you’ve never been able to rely on your dad for a single thing in your life. You wish you had friends to call. Or money to get your own car. You groan and throw your head back in frustration when your boyfriend’s phone goes to voicemail for the fifth time. You could call an uber but you’re really trying to save money to get out of Rafe’s hair sooner rather than later. Rafe, he would pick you up. But do you even want to call him? He’s definitely asleep, since he gets up at the crack of dawn everyday for work and do you really want to open that door?

The two of you have been getting along really well the last few weeks, settling into coexisting with one another. You honestly spend more time with him than you do your boyfriend at this point but he’s already done so much for you and you aren’t sure if you want to push it. You could sleep here, on the couch in the office and hopefully Caleb will get back to you by morning. But you really want to take a shower. And if you uber it’s really just setting you back on saving so in the long run it’s going to put Rafe out even more anyway. Fuck it. You click on his contact and it only rings twice before he answers.

“Hello?” Rafe’s sleepy voice says your name and you can’t help but wonder if that’s how he’d sound moaning in your ear while he pounds his - you’ve gotta stop. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Rafe.” You take in a shaky breath, god you hate asking people for help. “Um, everything is okay, it’s just - is Caleb home?”

“Is he not with you? I thought he was picking you up tonight.” You hear rustling, like he’s getting up out of bed. “He’s not here. He hasn’t been home since this morning unless he came home when I was at work. Are you okay?”

“No, uh - he’s not with me.” You clear your throat and let out a dry, half hearted, chuckle. “He was supposed to pick me up, he must’ve just gotten caught up, maybe his phone died or something. I can’t get ahold of him could you -”

“I’m coming to get you. Stay inside, keep the doors locked.” You hear his belt clanking as he hurriedly gets dressed on the other side of the line. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Seven minutes later you hear Rafe’s pick-up idling outside and your phone is dinging with a text that he’s here. You aren’t sure how it's possible that he got here so fast, considering his house is in a nice suburb outside figure eight and the bar you work at is on the cut, but you don’t question it. You lock up the bar, walk over to the curb, and hop in Rafe’s truck.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t have anyone else to call and -” Rafe chuckles but it’s not one of those charming ones you’ve come to know, he seems irritated and now you really wish you would’ve just slept in the bar.

“Don’t, be sorry.” Rafe shakes his head as he puts the truck into gear and pulls off toward his house. “I’m sorry that my son left you hanging like that.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You wave your hand and try to brush it off with a smile, maybe ease some of the tension. But Rafe’s hands just tighten on the steering wheel causing his knuckles to whiten and he breathes out hard through his nose. Maybe you really fucked up by calling him.

“No. It’s not. It’s unacceptable.” Rafe grits out. He’s trying to not be unreasonably angry but the way he’s watched his son basically neglect you has been grinding his gears more and more everyday. And now he forgets you at one of the sketchiest bars in town in the middle of the night? You were alone, it seems like your coworkers already left. Anyone could have decided to try and break in, what would you have done if he didn’t come?

He hates that it makes him feel animosity toward Caleb, that jealous feeling that’s tinged with possession growing more and more the longer he’s around you. He would never forget you. If it was up to him you wouldn’t work in that bar at all and he’d take care of all your needs and desires. Rafe is old school, he wants a pretty woman to come home to, to cook for him and let him eat her pussy every night before bed. Someone who will keep him in check and make him laugh when it counts. The way the two of you have been living together kind of feels like that, excluding the sex parts. Lines are starting to blur for him and maybe he just really needs to get laid. It’s been over a year now.

“If you ever need a ride, call me. I’ll be there.” You don’t argue, there’s no point. This man is as stubborn as you and if you try and disagree you’ll just go back and forth till one of you caves. And you have a feeling it would be you. His voice holds a finality that just has you nodding in agreement before the two of you fall into comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.

Okay, Rafe seriously needs to get laid. He feels like he’s living in a never ending intro to a porno. He isn’t sure if he’s ever been more thankful or if he regrets ever putting that in the ground hot tub out back but he feels like he’s being tortured. It’s mid November so the pool is covered but the hot tub is free game and you’ve definitely been taking advantage of that. He should be glad, it’s the first time it’s getting real use since he built it but the fact that you go in it nearly every day means you’re in a bikini nearly everyday.

You have a few different ones but the one you’re wearing right now while you walk through the kitchen. You have a pink towel that you definitely brought with you from home thrown over your shoulder and the little platform slides you’re wearing are the only other thing on your body. The baby pink straps of the bikini hug your curves perfectly. The little triangles barely cover more than your nipples and he can see that they’re pierced through the thin material. The bottoms are practically a thong, showing off that little angel wing tramp stamp tattooed on your lower back. Hardly something you think that a girl would wear around her boyfriend’s dad, but he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.

Things have been different between the two of you this last week. Caleb went on a ski trip with his friends and didn’t even bother to invite you. It’s not like they’re your friends, anyway. So it’s just been you and Rafe for the last five days. There was a night that the two of you ordered chinese food and you showed him what a “christmas horror movie” is. Which he really enjoyed. He’s not huge on movies but he can’t deny that he loves a good horror movie.

You laughed and joked together. Playfully teased each other over your food orders and ended up just ordering twice as much food. You both sat maybe just a little too close and your arms brushed every once in a while. It was almost like you both got more brave after that, letting glances linger a little longer than necessary. His hand on the small of your back when he passes the kitchen. Flirty banter. And your outfits somehow seem to be getting smaller and smaller by the day.

His cock pulses as he watches you bend over in your little swimsuit to grab a water bottle out of the fridge and he doesn’t advert his gaze fast enough because when you stand up straight and look over your shoulder at him there’s this mischievous little glint in your eyes and a smug smirk painted on your lips. You turn his way and rest your palms on the marble countertop he built himself and it almost makes your tits spill out of what little material is covering them. He’s going to lose it.

“You gonna get in with me yet, old man? Or are you still too boring?” You tilt your head to the side with a bright smile and your voice is so saccharine he feels like he’s gonna get a goddamn toothache. He can’t go in the hot tub with you though, his control is slipping more and more everyday and being that close to you, wet, in that bikini, seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Guess I’m still too boring, little girl.” Your little ongoing inside joke of teasing each other about your ages makes him chuckle because he’s not really old, he’s only forty two. And you’re certainly not a little girl, you’re a sexy young woman. Too sexy. And too sweet and thoughtful. And you’re fucking funny and quirky. And he hates how bad he wants you.

It’s getting harder to chalk it up to lust the more time he spends alone with you. But he still has hope that he’s just lonely and horny because he can’t like you, you’re his son’s girlfriend for god's sake. Even if Caleb doesn’t treat you like you’re even his girlfriend at all. He’s barely seen him the entire time you’ve lived here. He’ll hit up one of his old booty calls tomorrow, it’s saturday and every woman on this island is just dying for a chance with Rafe Cameron. The only problem is he doesn’t like any of them. He doesn’t have to like them as people to get this pent up energy out though.

“Suit yourself, have fun being old and boring.” You shrug and send him a wink. You let your eyes travel from his face down his body before turning on your heel toward the door. He holds in a groan at the sight of your hips swinging, your ass jiggling in that tiny material. He was already half hard but that sent him over the edge. He needs to take a cold fucking shower.

Rafe runs his hands through his hair, letting the cool water cascade down his back. He lets out an exasperated sigh because truly this isn’t doing shit. He’s fucking cold, still hard, and he can’t stop thinking about what would happen if he did go in the hot tub with you. Was it just a friendly invitation because he built it and you think he needs to relax more? You definitely think that, but the look you gave him said there was more to it than that. The look in your eyes always does. Like you’re saying something to him without saying it and he’s pretty sure he looks at you the same way. It can never be more than just teasing, more than walking that line. You’re off limits and he knows that. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you and what nobody but him knows can’t hurt, right?

Rafe lets his mind wander. He imagines what it would be like if he took you up on your offer. He’d get in with you and sit as far away from you as you could. You’d probably talk because even though Rafe isn’t a big talker, it seems to come easy with you. He thinks about the way the water would make your tits float in that little top and how little tendrils of your hair would fall free from that clip you have in and stick to your skin. He can see that little cheshire smirk you always give him and that mischievous look in your eyes is just straight up naughty now as his mind has you inching closer to him by the second.

You’d press yourself against him, your beautiful tits that he knows are probably so soft pressed up against his arm as you look at him with pouty lips and tell him how bad you want him. He’d grab your hips and pull you into his lap to straddle him and wandering hands would turn into heated kisses while you grind down on his cock. He would finally take that top off and get to see your tits, grab them, suck them.

Rafe grabs his throbbing cock and squeezes the base before pumping it in his hand. He groans in his chest as his head falls and his fantasy continues. In his mind his hand travels between your legs and pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, rubbing your clit a few times before thrusting two fingers knuckle deep in your wet pussy. You’d let out the prettiest moans while he pushes you to the edge with his fingers. And then you’d beg for his cock and he’d fuckig give it to you. The pace of his hand on his cock picks up and his breaths grow shallow as he imagines his hand is you, sliding his dick into your wet heat while you moan his name. You start to ride him and Rafe feels his stomach tighten. The imaginary you’s tits bounce beautifully in his face and it has his cock throbbing in his hand as he spills cum down his wrist.

He pants, the you filled haze he was in starting to fade as he comes down from his high. He turns and washes himself while he tries to shake the regret setting in. He really needs to get you out of his system.

You sigh as you use a damp towel to wipe down the bar, going through the motions of your closing duties. Caleb got home from his ski trip today and you wish you were more excited. You haven’t seen him yet since he got back while you were at work but he’s supposed to pick you up tonight. You told your sister you might need a ride, just in case. You hate that you feel like you can’t rely on him anymore. It wasn’t always like this, he used to be attentive and loving toward you, you used to be best friends. As time went on though, he got comfortable and lazy until it got to this point. You used to get butterflies and count down the seconds until you saw your boyfriend again and right now your stomach just feels like it’s filled with a pit of snakes.

He left you for an entire week, without even so much as an invitation because “he figured you wouldn’t want to go”. He left you the entire week alone in the house with his dad and if you and Rafe didn’t get along so well that would’ve been incredibly awkward. God, Rafe. You hate that the snakes in your stomach start to morph into butterflies at the thought of him. But the instant guilt that washes over you has another round of snakes swallowing the fluttering bugs whole.

These thoughts and feelings you’ve been having toward Rafe have only increased more and more over the last week. You’ve had fun with him. He’s easy to be around and surprisingly funny. You’ve grown comfortable around him and adjusted easily to living in the same space as him. Maybe a little too comfortable. You made yourself cum to the thought of him twice in a row last night. It was the first time you gave in and let your mind wander there but you haven’t cum as hard as you did in a long time. He’s just so fucking sexy and there for you. You’re just lonely, that’s all. At least that’s what you keep trying to tell yourself.

Despite your lack of faith in him, Caleb did end up picking you up from work and he even stopped at your favorite dinner for late night fries and milkshakes like you used to. You laughed together and you remembered how hot he was. His wavy blonde hair, his soft green eyes and charming, boyish smile. It’s almost like you forgot what he looks like from how little you’ve been around him lately. Everything felt better than it has in a while. Not great, but good. You had hope that maybe you and him could get back to normal up until he had you on your back with your legs spread.

Caleb isn’t bad in bed, he’s not the best ever but he’s always satisfied you. He doesn’t go down on you as much as you’d like and no matter how much you ask he won’t be rough with you but the sex isn’t bad. Tonight though? No matter what you did you couldn’t get out of your head. You usually love the way Caleb shoves his face in your neck and moans in your ear but something about it just felt like he was trying to avoid looking at you and the weight of his body as he thrusted deep into you almost felt suffocating. You were wet, you wanted to cum, but your brain wouldn’t let you. That was until Rafe’s face flashed into your mind and no matter how hard you tried to push him out it was like he barricaded himself there. You imagined it was him on top of you instead and it’s embarrassing how fast you came after that. Caleb wasn’t far behind you, spilling into the condom before pulling out of you and rolling over on his back. That was another thing, you were on birth control and no matter how much you begged him to cum inside you he wouldn’t. He said “it wasn’t worth the risk.” He fell asleep shortly after that and even though it was almost four in the morning you couldn’t shut your mind off. So you get out of bed and wander downstairs to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you round the kitchen corner to see Rafe sitting at the island. Your hands fly up to cover your chest on instinct because all you’re wearing is a tiny silk nightie. You didn’t expect him to be up. God, did he hear you?

“Rafe! Hi! You scared the shit out of me.” You let out a breathy laugh and try to act normal. Your hands find the hem of your nightgown and tug, willing it to cover more of your ass. But that only pulls it further down your tits and the way Rafe is looking at you right now is making you want to melt into the ground. He’s never looked at you so hungrily but he also looks kind of pissed off. “I didn’t expect you to be up, sorry!”

“Huh, well, I couldn’t sleep.” Any hope that he didn’t hear you diminishes in that moment. “If you’re going to get railed under my roof at three in the morning the least you can do is try and be quiet.”

“I-” Your entire body warms and your words get caught in your throat. He really just went right out with it, didn’t he? He couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen like a normal person? “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Rafe chuckles almost condescendingly. “I have to be up for work in an hour and I’ve spent the last forty five minutes listening to your fake moans until you finally came.”

“Mr. Cameron.” You gasp at the brashness of his words. Why does he sound like a jealous boyfriend and not someone who’s angry at a loss of sleep? “I don’t think that’s really appropriate… I’m sorry if we woke you up but-”

“No.” Rafe’s tone makes your body tingle with anxiety and something else you try not to dwell on as you watch him push himself up from his seat and round the kitchen island in a few strides. He stops only inches in front of you, his large frame looming over you. It’s only now you realize he’s in nothing but a pair of black, low to the hips sweatpants and it’s blindingly apparent that he isn’t wearing any underwear. “You know what’s inappropriate? Moaning so loud your boyfriend’s dad can hear you from down the hall… Or is that what you wanted?”

He drops his voice to a low whisper at the last part and you’re completely stunned by his words. Especially because he’s not wrong. A small part of you hoped he’d hear you. You didn’t expect this reaction though. Your words are caught in your throat for a minute too long and you know the way you’re looking up at him with your thighs clenched and your eyes blown wide gives you away. And when he smirks down at you, you know you’re caught.

“It is, isn’t it?” Rafe leans down further into your personal space, his plush lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Naughty girl.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest and you’re at a complete loss for words. You’re starting to think you fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Rafe pulls back, his eyes feel like they’re setting your skin on fire as he looks down at you like he wants to bend you over this counter right now. But, he doesn’t. His large hand grazes your shoulder as he reaches out to push your hair back and after giving you a final once over from head to toe he takes a few backwards steps before turning on his heel and going up the stairs. What the fuck just happened?

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You can’t believe Rafe is here and with Hollis Robinson, of all people. Her being here isn’t irregular, she comes in here every week to hang all over the different blue collar men. You guess she’s just trying to go for something the opposite of her last husband, midlife crisis and all that. But why does she have to be here with him. There’s no way he didn’t agree to come here just to piss you off. At first you weren’t sure if he just had a naturally flirty nature and maybe you were just thinking too much into it because like you’ve been beating into your own head you’re just lonely. But after last night in the kitchen? And now this? You’re starting to think there’s more to it.

Especially since you want to walk over there and claw Hollis’ eyes out of her skull for how she’s looking at him. And the way he keeps looking over at you over her shoulder with a smug fucking grin painted on his face says a lot. This is payback for last night and if he wants to play that game? You’ll bite. You pull your tiny black tank top even further down, revealing the top of your red bra and you pull up your low rise jeans up slightly more on your hips so they hug your ass. You make sure your tattoo is still on display though, you’ve noticed him looking at it.

“Can I get you guys a refill?” You lean down and rest your palms on the table with a wide smile on your face and you can’t help but press your elbows together to show off your tits even more. The charming smile Rafe was throwing Hollis’ way falls the minute he lays eyes on you. He came here in hopes of riling you up and gauging your reaction to see if this was all in his head but now he’s the one feeling like clawing someone’s eyes out.

He’s picked you up a few times but he’s never come inside the bar and he can’t believe that this is where you work. It’s not particularly dirty but it’s definitely a dive bar, the kind of place guys like him and bikers on the road stop for a beer. If he was the kind of guy that went to bars, that is. But what’s really getting to him is how every set of male eyes in the building follow you wherever you go. They’re like bees to honey to the way you walk around with that sweet smile, swinging your hips. He wants to wrap his coat around you and haul you out over his shoulder so no other man can see you. But you aren’t his, so he needs to play it cool.

“Sure, honey. Another martini, dry.” Hollis barely spares you a glance and wave of her fingers before going back to drooling over Rafe.

She’s sitting in the chair next to him but she has it pulled so close she might as well be in his fucking lap. Her heel clad foot swings back and forth, hitting his calf every few passes and you want to break it off. She rests her chin on her folded hands as she gazes over at him with the biggest fuck me eyes you think you’ve ever seen.

“And a Coors Light for you, right? In the can.” You let your eyes flash from Rafe’s to his lips for just a split moment before locking eyes with him again. You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and then pull it between your teeth and Rafe has to literally stop himself from groaning at the sight. Hollis hasn’t solicited a single reaction out of his body the entire night, but every time he looks at you his cock gets just a little bit harder. His plan is completely backfiring on him.

“Yeah, thanks, angel.” The nickname catches you both off guard. It makes his eyes blow wide as he takes in a deep breath through his nose. He’s been holding that back for some time now but it’s true, you are an angel. Your bright eyes, the way you care for him and that little tattoo. A naughty little angel with horns, that is. And even though your insides are melting, you paint on a smug smirk, not backing down from this fight.

“You got it, babe.” You throw him a wink, just catching the way his eyes widen slightly before flicking your hair over your shoulder and turning on your heel toward the bar. You make sure to swing your hips extra because you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you. You love knowing you’re getting to him, maybe not as much as he does to you. But you’re getting a reaction and that fills you with pride you shouldn’t feel.

You make Hollis’ martini without hardly even looking, most drinks have become second nature to you after working here for three years. You peak over at Rafe after grabbing his beer and you immediately see red. Hollis has her leg thrown over his lap while she presses her tits against his big arm that you want to latch onto with your teeth and never let go. Rafe looks half interested in what she’s saying, at least. Especially when he looks over at you and fucking smirks. Yeah, you’re gonna ruin his fucking night. What if he plans on bringing her home? You don’t think you can stand to hear him fucking her from down the hall. Even the thought makes you want to puke and you wonder if that’s how he felt the other night.

That might be wishful thinking though. You paint on your sweetest smile and walk back over to their table, placing their drinks on the table. You make sure to lean over Rafe close enough that your tits graze his other arm. A silent display of possession that nobody but Rafe notices.

“Here’s your drinks, enjoy!” You turn like you’re going to walk away before quickly turning back around. “Actually, I meant to ask, how long will you be here? I kind of need a ride home.”

“He’s busy, I’m sure you can find someone else to take you ho-” Hollis tries to shoo you away but Rafe cuts her off, pushing his chair back enough that her leg falls from his lap.

“When are you off?” Hollis scoffs and detaches herself from him, sitting back in her seat. Thank god. You can’t help the small smirk you send her way.

“In an hour, I’m not closing tonight.” Your eyes lock with Rafe’s crystal blue ones and you can tell he knows what you’re doing. Yet you don’t care. And he’s still letting you do it, so. “If you don’t mind hanging around until then.”

“Actually, I was thinking about heading out soon.” Hollis shoots you a look before resting her red manicured hand on Rafe’s bicep as she looks over at him almost desperately. Pathetic. “You wanna come to my place? Have a glass of wine, get cozy?”

“I would, but I think it’s best I make sure she gets home safe.” Rafe barely spares her a glance while he shuts her down and she visibly deflates. You would feel bad if you didn’t want to rip each one of her thickly mascara lined eyelashes out of her head.

“Aww, really?” Hollis pouts as she tips her head to the side to try and get Rafe to look at her but he doesn’t. His eyes stay on you. “I think we will have a good time, I’m sure she can find another ride, can’t you?” She looks at you like you’re going to be her wingman and take one for the team or something. Too bad you don’t feel like sharing. Even if he isn’t yours and probably never will be. He’s not going to rub it in your face at your place of work.

“Actually, my ride fell through.” You cross your arms to push your tits up and set your lips into a pout. Rafe feels like he’s going to fucking lose it any second. You never ask him for help, so he knows you're jealous and it’s making his cock uncomfortably hard. “I can probably swing an uber if you’re busy though.”

“No. I’m taking you home with me.” With him. You like the sound of that. “Go do your stuff. I’ll wait.”

“I know what you were doing in there, I’ve been around the block a few times, little girl.” Rafe grits at you as pulls out of the bar parking lot. He waited for you to get off. Hollis left before he did, not without asking him to go home with her again, of course.

“And I know what you were doing in there, old man. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m oblivious.” You roll your eyes and put your doc’s up on his dash. It makes him groan as he reaches over to knock them back down. “Umm, rude.”

“I’m rude? And ruining my date isn’t?” Rafe scoffs.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You didn’t want to be on that date and we both fucking know it, Rafe.” You roll your eyes and shake your head and Rafe really wishes he wasn’t driving right now so he could finally spank that attitude out of you. He has half a mind to pull over but he has to keep reminding himself you’re not his. “You would have never gone there if I didn’t work there, don’t act like that wasn’t why. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to see my reaction.”

“She asked to go there, you’re just overthinking it.” Rafe shakes his head as he turns onto the main road toward his neighborhood.

“No. If I was overthinking it, you would’ve left with her and not me. Don’t try to make me feel like I’m making shit up in my head, you were blindingly obvious about it.” His big hands tighten on the steering wheel causing the veins to pop out. You want to slobber all over them and feel them inside you. “You were trying to make me jealous and it worked, so what now?”

“Now? Nothing.” Rafe chuckles dryly and you can see his jaw tense. “We go home, you go to bed and I’ll do the same. Nothing can happen and you know that.”

“But you aren’t saying you don’t want it to.” You press the issue, you aren’t letting it go that easily.

“God damn it.” Rafe breathes out through his nose and says your name sternly. “Stop. Just stop. This can’t be a thing. No more of this shit that happened tonight. We go back to coexisting the way we should and if I want to go on dates you’re just going to have to get over that because you are my son’s fucking girlfriend, jesus.”

“Yeah, whatever, tell yourself that all you want.” You lean back in your seat with your arms crossed, turning away from him to look out the window. “You know it’s more than that but go ahead and keep lying to yourself.”

“It’s what I have to do, okay?!” Rafe snaps and slams his hand on the steering wheel before regaining his control. He runs his hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath. He isn’t the guy that loses his temper at the drop of a hat anymore but you’re so god damn frustrating it makes him feel like he’s going insane. “Now please, just let it go.”

“Fine. But I know you feel this thing between us.” You laugh dryly, your throat feeling tight from rejection even if you know you’re right. “But I’ll drop it and let you live in your little land of denial.”

“Thank you.” Rafe sighs and you both fall silent for the remainder of the drive, only the sound of the local rock station playing quietly in the background.

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You curse under your breath as you toss your keys down on the table by the door and rip your coat from your body. All the other times Caleb has forgotten to pick you up were just mildly annoying in comparison to this. Considering it’s your fucking birthday. You don’t think he even remembers. He didn’t say anything to you this morning before you left for your day shift and he hasn’t texted you all day. He did say he would pick you when you managed to momentarily wake him up though. You hoped maybe he had a surprise planned for you when you got off but you aren’t even sure why you let the thought cross your mind. It feels like he doesn’t even care about you anymore.

As much as Rafe wants to deny that there’s something between you, he gives you more attention than your own boyfriend. Caleb was out all night, so, was he passed out hungover this morning. But when you went downstairs there were doughnuts and coffee from your favorite bakery sitting on the kitchen counter. There was a pink balloon tied to the coffee and a little note in front of it that read “Happy Birthday, angel. -R.C.”

Rafe was already gone for work when you woke up so you haven’t had a chance to thank him yet. You hate that you’re more excited for him to be home than you are to see Caleb. You know he’s here somewhere because his car is out front, you assume he’s upstairs gaming with his headset on and his phone on silent. Or he’s asleep. You sigh deeply as you walk over to the box of doughnuts still sitting on the counter and pull one from the box. You take a bite before looking out the kitchen window and when you do you nearly choke.

Caleb isn’t gaming, and he’s not asleep. But he is out back in the hot tub with his “friend” Jessica. Ass naked. Fucking her from behind with her top half bent over the ledge. You feel like you’re going to be sick as you watch her mouth fall open in pleasure. Caleb pulls her hair, yanking her head back before you watch him land a smack on her ass as he fucks her roughly from behind. He’s never fucked you like that. It was always so vanilla and lackluster. Watching him fuck her like you’ve asked him to fuck you a thousand times is like a knife to your heart. Tears prickle the rims of your eyes But you don’t want to cry because you’re sad, no, you’re fucking pissed. You slam your hand down on the counter in frustration, crushing the glazed treat you’re still holding against the marble. You take a deep breath, readying yourself, and then you walk out the back door.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking rich.” You chuckle dryly as you walk across the back patio to the hot tub and Caleb and Jessica’s eyes flash toward you, their movements halting. “You know, you’ve gotten me some pretty shit presents over the years, Caleb. But being so balls deep in some other bitch that you forget my birthday entirely really takes the fucking cake.”

“Babe!” Caleb backs away from Jessica with his eyes blown wide, pulling out of her and leaving her to stand there trying to cover herself. “It’s not -”

“It’s not what it looks like, really Caleb?” You scoff and you can’t even help but laugh. “You’re a fucking idiot. There’s no talking your way out of being a cheating fucking whore when I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“Hey! Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t -” Jessica’s voice is strained and nervous as she pulls herself from the hot tub and reaches for her clothes that are discarded on the ground.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You know exactly what you did. Everyone in your little friend group knows me and Caleb are together. Don’t disrespect me by lying to my face.”

You take a few hurried steps towards her and she flinches, making a smirk spread across your lips. Good. She should be scared. She’s lucky Caleb isn’t worth an assault charge. You send your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend a glare. “How long?”

“Since the ski trip…” His head hangs low between his shoulders and you can’t believe he has the audacity to be pouting right now. But he’s always been selfish.

“Oh? So this has been going on for weeks? And I bet all your little friends knew, huh?” Caleb opens his mouth to answer but you cut him off. “Were you all just sitting around laughing, knowing I was oblivious? You disgust me.”

“Babe -”

“I’m not your fucking babe! Shut up! I’m tired of hearing your god damn voice, Caleb!” You shriek and stomp your foot in frustration.

“Whoa, what the hell is going on out here?” The sound of Rafe’s voice sends an icy hot chill all through your body. God, how much of that did he see?

“Dad, don’t worry about it. Just go inside, this is none of your business.” Rafe loves his son with all his heart and even if Caleb doesn’t realize it, everything he’s done in his life has been for him. But right now? He has never been more disappointed in his entire life.

Rafe didn’t see everything but he got home around the time you were calling Caleb a cheating whore. That combined with the fact that there was a random girl scrambling to put her clothes on while his son stands naked in the hot tub doesn’t make it hard to tell what is happening.

“There’s yelling going on in my house, I think that’s my business.” Rafe is almost at a loss for words. He feels frozen. He would never abandon Caleb but the fact that he did this to you fills him with rage. The fact that he took you for granted was one thing, but cheating on you? It makes his blood boil. If it were anyone else they’d be getting their ass beat right now.

“I think I’m just going to go.” All three of their heads whip towards you at your words. Rafe looks distressed, Jessica looks guilty as hell and Caleb has a mixture of both painted on his face.

“No, you stay. I’ll feel like shit knowing you’re sleeping on your sister's couch when you’ve been pulling my weight around here anyways.” Caleb pulls himself out of the hot tub and pulls his swim trunks on before walking toward you. It makes you take a step back.

“You can stay with me, if you need.” Jessica squeaks out and it makes you belly laugh. You really are such a fucking joke.

“You don’t have to leave, either of you. We can work something out.” Rafe looks over at his son, so fucking disappointed in him but he doesn’t love him any less and he doesn’t want him to leave. But he really doesn’t want you to leave either, he’s really come to love you. Well, he loves having you around. He doesn’t love you, he can’t. But god the longer he’s around you he wants to love you so badly. Especially right now, he can see you shaking from here. He can see the angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes and he hates it. He wants to grab you, pull you into his chest, and protect you from the world.

“I won’t force her to be around me after this, dad.” Caleb sighs as he pinches his nose before locking eyes with you. “Just stay here, okay? I want you to stay where you have space. You seem happier here. I’m going to go get some stuff to get me through a couple days and I’ll come back for the rest later on. Come on Jessica, we’re leaving.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry I never meant for you to find out like this.” Jessica sends you an apologetic look.

“Ha! I don’t give a fuck about your apology, bitch. Get out of my sight before I beat your ass.” You take a threatening step toward her and she hurriedly runs toward the back door with Caleb in tow. He sends you another sad glance before walking inside, leaving you alone with Rafe.

“God, what the fuck just happened!?” You let out an aggressive deep breath as you flop down on one of the patio chairs. You groan and throw your head back, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The sound of Rafe’s voice inches from you makes you jump as your eyes shoot toward him. He’s crouching in front of the chair with a concerned look on his face and god, you want to jump into his lap and have him hold you so badly. Even when Caleb literally cheats on you, you can’t get these thoughts of Rafe out of your head. If anything they’re just increasing by the second.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should go check on Caleb, tell him he doesn’t have to go.” You clear your throat to stop the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Once I calm down a bit I’ll go get my shit together and get out of your hair.”

“No.” Rafe’s voice is stern but not angry and your entire body heats when he rests his big hands on your knees so you’ll look at him. “I don’t want you to leave. I love my son so damn much but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in him right now. I’ll never force him to leave but if he wants to go, I think maybe it’s for the best right now.”

“Yeah, but even if he leaves there’s no reason for me to be here if he and I aren’t together, Rafe.” You sniffle, wiping your nose and under your eyes with your hoodie sleeve. You refuse to let him see you cry.

“There is a reason, doll.” Rafe squeezes your knees slightly in a comforting manner as he looks up at you so sincerely you could almost melt. “I want you here. I like having you here. Not just because you help out around the house or because you make delicious food. I like you, I like your presence and being around you. I don’t like to talk much, I can’t stand small talk, but it comes easy with you.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Rafe. You have no obligation to me, I can’t just freeload off of you.” You sigh and Rafe can’t help it, he glances toward the house to see if Caleb is looking but the blinds are closed so he leans up on his knees and takes your face in his hands.

“I know I’m not fuckin’ obligated but I want to help you. I want you here, please?” Rafe’s voice breaks at the end and he hates that he sounds so desperate. But that desperation tells you all you need to know. He’s saying it without saying it. Rafe wants you. And now that Caleb gave you the ultimate fuck you, what’s really holding you back from having him aside from your own moral compass? He’s still Caleb’s dad. On the other hand though? Fuck Caleb and his feelings.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Your voice is small and you swallow deeply as Rafe continues to hold your face in his big, calloused hands.

“That’s my girl.” Rafe grins at you and places a kiss on your forehead and for a second you forget who Caleb even is. He’s never touched you this much and now you never want him to stop. You want to feel his lips and hands on every inch of your body. “Sit tight, okay? I’m gonna go make sure Caleb is okay and see if he needs any help.”

You sigh and look up at the sky. The sun is setting, kissing the tops of the trees as the cold midwinter wind whips through your hair. You’d probably be freezing in your little work outfit if you weren’t so filled with adrenaline. Are you really gonna stay here with Caleb’s dad? Especially when you know how badly you want him? You know the answer is yes, against your better judgement. You’ve tried to push your feelings down, tell yourself they were based on loneliness and circumstance. But the fact that you just watched Caleb cheat on you and you were more sad about the fact that you’ll have to move away from Rafe is very telling.

You want Rafe. You want his kind gestures. You want the banter you have when you order take ou and watch cheesy horror movies on nights you were left alone. You want the way his lips look extra plush and the way his mullet looks all messy when he first wakes up. You want the possessiveness and the protectiveness. You want to jump his bones when he gets home in his work clothes all covered in mud. You want to eat dinner and shower together and fuck before bed. You want him to fuck you on every inch of this house actually. You want him so bad you can’t even deny it anymore. You want him so bad it almost hurts.

You let yourself sit with that information until you hear the front door shut and Caleb’s car pull out of the driveway. You’re finally starting to get cold so you take a deep breath and push yourself up from the chair to face the music.

As you approach the back door you realize the lights in the kitchen are off, which is odd for this time of day. Did Rafe go to bed to avoid having to interact with you? You wouldn’t blame him, part of you wants the same. You just want to sink in bed and sleep for a week. But when you open the door your hand flies to your mouth with a gasp.

The room is illuminated by candles that are lit on top of the prettiest cake. It’s shaped like a heart with pink and white frosting and your name is in the middle of it, written in pretty, frosted cursive. If that wasn’t enough there’s a little box with a bow sitting next to it and the greatest present of all is the man standing behind them. Rafe still has his navy work shirt with the logo for his company on and he has this lopsided, boyish smile painted on his face that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. This man is a dream.

“Rafe, I- you did this for me?” Your words nearly get caught in your throat and tears prickle your eyes for an entirely different reason than they have all night. “No one has ever… No one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

“I know. That’s why I did it.” Rafe smiles at you sweetly as he scratches the side of his neck before running his hands through his hair. “Don’t go getting all teary eyed on me before you even open your gift, angel.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything…” Your voice is barely a whisper and you hardly trust it as you approach the counter and pick up the little box. At first glance you’d think it was jewelry but when you pull off the bow and open it up there’s a keyfob inside. “What is? Rafe, you did not buy me a car!”

“No, yeah, I did.” Rafe chuckles and comes around the other side of the counter to stand no more than a foot away from you. “You deserve it.”

“Rafe, I can’t accept this. You have to take it back.” You push the box toward him but he just stops your hand, pushing it back toward your chest.

“Well, I’m not taking it back. So if you don’t drive it, it’s just going to sit in the garage collecting dust.” He splays his hand across your chest, holding the key and your hand in his larger one as he looks down at you almost lovingly. It fills your heart with hope you’ve been refusing to let in. Rafe tucks your hair behind your ear and presses a kiss to your temple. “Let me do this for you.”

You can’t help it, you throw yourself into his arms with a squeal and he catches you easily with an arm around your waist. You’re tired of denying yourself his touch, it is your birthday, after all. Rafe chuckles and squeezes you to his chest before setting you on your feet in front of the cake.

“Make a wish, birthday girl.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his chin against your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you know exactly what you’re going to wish for. More of this. More of him. For as long as he will have you. You lean forward and blow out the candles before letting your body rest against Rafe’s with your head tilted back so you can look up at him. “What did you wish for?”

“Can’t tell you, it won’t come true.” You giggle and spin around in his arms and he takes your face in his hands. Rafe thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and he can’t pretend he doesn’t anymore. He needs you. He wants to kiss you so bad and you surprise the hell out of him by throwing your arms around his shoulders and smashing your lips against his own.

The kiss starts off tender, almost nervous. But it quickly turns heated when his big hands grip onto your waist and pull you flush against him. He groans against your mouth and you use it as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and tangle it with his. You stand there making out, your hands wandering any part of each other they can reach. Rafe’s hands slip lower and slide just under the bottom hem of your skirt, grazing your ass. You

bite down on his bottom lip and Rafe pulls back to look down at you.

“Fuck, we really shouldn’t…” Rafe breathes out through his nose and bites his lip, his actions contradicting his words because his hands travel higher up your skirt and grip onto your ass possessively.

“Do you care?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you grind your stomach against his rock hard cock and scratch the back of his neck with your pointed nails.

“Fuck, not anymore.” Rafe loops his arms around your thighs and you jump up so he can carry you to the couch. He tosses you over the arm and gets on the couch behind you with his legs bracketing yours. He leans over your body so his lips are brushing the shell of your ear. “The first time I fuck you is gonna be in my bed but I’ve been waiting so long to spank that bratty ass and eat that sweet little pussy I need to do it right fucking here.”

Rafe leans back and pushes your little Jean mini skirt up over your ass to reveal the tiniest little pink thong he’s ever seen. He lands a harsh smack on your ass and it causes you to yelp and jolt forward. He gives the other the cheek the same treatment before bringing his hands down on both at once.

“So fucking perfect. Knew you would be, baby.” Rafe runs his fingers over your slit through the lace of your panties, feeling your sticky wetness. “And so fucking wet.”

He gathers some on his fingers before pulling away and marveling at the way it glistens in the low light. He hooks his arm around your neck and holds his fingers to your lips. “Suck.”

You take them into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them, tasting yourself mixed with Rafe’s salty sweat. It shouldn’t taste as good as it does but it makes you hum around his fingers as your eyes roll back.

“Been thinkin’ bout this all day, everyday, since you moved into this house, angel. You’ve been thinking about it too, haven’t you?” Rafe shoves his fingers down your throat causing you to gag as drool pools into your mouth before he pulls them out and spanks your ass with his wet hand, causing it to sting extra.

“Yes, daddy. Everyday. Want you so bad.” You arch your back and wiggle your ass and Rafe feels like he’s going to bust in his pants like a thirteen year old boy.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think you know what you just did.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs onto your thong and pulls it down to your knees, locking them in place. “You want me to be your daddy? Alright. But that means I get to beat this little ass red for the way you’ve been teasing me.”

“Yeah?” You glance over your shoulder at him with that mischievous look you always flash him in your eyes and a naughty little smirk painted on your lips. “Do you fucking worst, daddy.”

Rafe gives you that lopsided grin that makes your stomach do flips before spanking your ass hard. The skin immediately turns red and you don’t have time to process before he spanks you in the same exact spot even harder. He gives the other cheek the same treatment and then rotates back.

“That’s my good little girl.” Rafe rubs your reddened ass and then spanks you again and again. “Not such a brat now, huh? Just needed that attitude beat out of you?”

“I don’t know, I think you might have to fuck it out of me.” You giggle and wiggle your sore ass which only earns you another round of spankings, leaving you a moaning mess. He leans down and bites down hard on your asscheek as two fingers slide through your dripping folds.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m gonna give you the best dick of your fucking life. But first, I’ve gotta taste this god damn pussy.” Rafe admires the growing bruises and the bite mark on your plump ass before grabbing your cheeks and spreading you open so he can run his tongue along your slit to your pulsing clit.

He swirls his tongue around it a few times before sliding it back down and thrusting it into your hole. Rafe flicks his tongue inside you and hooks his arm around your thigh so you can’t wiggle away.

“Oh, fuck! God, yes, daddy.” You whine and grind back into his face and when his thumb finds your clit you’re embarrassingly close. Your body subconsciously tries to run away from the mind blowing pleasure but Rafe only brings his free hand to the small of your back and uses it to pin your upper half down.

“Quit wiggling and let me devour this pussy, brat. Be a good girl and stay still for daddy, yeah?” Rafe mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations sending your eyes to the back of your skull. “Need you to cum for me, baby.”

Rafe unhooks his arm from your leg so he can thrust two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy while his lips latch onto your clit. He curls his fingers against your sweet spot and rolls his lips around your aching bud and that’s all it takes to have you seeing stars. Pleasure wracks your entire body as you shake beneath him. He sucks and fingers you through your orgasm until you’re over sensitive and your top half is limp with your arms dangling off the arm of the couch.

Rafe leans back to admire you and his cock feels like it’s going to burst. Your hair is cascading over your face as you lay limp across the couch with your ass arched in the air. Your crop top is pushed up showing off the curve of your back. Your butt is red and covered in his hand prints and the bite mark is already starting to bruise. Your little skirt is framing your hips perfectly and your pussy is all puffy and dripping creamy, white.

“I know I said I’d take you to the bed, baby girl, but this pussy just looks so god damn irresistible I’ve gotta have her right now.” You hear the metal of his belt clanking and the sound of his zipper before you feel the fat head of his cock slapping against your ass. He grips his shaft as he runs his tip through your dripping folds and then he uses your wetness to lube his cock. Rafe pumps himself a few times before lining up with your entrance and pushing inside you in one, unforgiving thrust. You both moan in unison as he bottoms out, his balls grazing your clit.

“Oh my god, I’m so full.” You whine as your walls clench around him and Rafe pulls his hips back until only his tip remains before slamming his cock back into you and starting up at a brutal pace. He grips onto your hips and fucks you like a man possessed. He’s entranced by the sight of your ass bouncing back against him while your creamy pussy coats his cock as it swallows him whole over and over again.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby. This pussy is so perfect, fuck, even better than I ever could’ve imagined.” One of Rafe’s hands grips onto your throat and pulls you up so your back is flush against his front and the new angle pushes him even deeper inside you, making your pussy flutter around his cock. He grabs your hand with his free one and presses it against our belly where you can feel his cock bulging from inside you. “Feel that? You’re so fuckin’ full of me.”

“Yes, daddy, you’re so fucking big.” You gasp when he slams his hips up into yours so hard the sound echos off the walls and then he pulls almost all the way out and does it again and again, fucking you rough and deep. Rafe squeezes your neck as he pushes up your crop top so he can grope your tits and pinch your pierced nipples.

“Oh, Angel, I’ve just been dying to see these. The way you prance around in those little bikinis has been driving me insane. Let daddy see those pretty tits.” He pulls out of you and you whine at the loss. He grips onto your hips and flips you over so you’re straddling him.

Rafe leans back on the couch and runs his hands down your body before tracing up your stomach so he can graze his fingertips over your pert nipples. He circles the little bars that have hearts in the middle with a groan.

“Oh, fuckin’ look at you. Never seen anything more god damn perfect in my life.” Rafe leans forward to take a nipple in his mouth and it makes you cry out.

“In all your years, right, old man?” You giggle when he pulls back with a glare and grips onto your hip so he can lift you onto his cock, the feeling of him filling you again makes you nearly go cross eyed. “You getting tired yet?”

“I thought I fucked that little attitude out of you, huh?” Rafe plants his feet flat on the ground so he can thrust up into you while using his grip on your ass to bounce you on his cock. The sight of your tits in his face has him twitching inside you.

“I think it’s gonna take more than once, actually?” You smirk up at him and Rafe is fucking gone. He’s obsessed with you. “Can your old man knees keep up?”

“Baby, it’s so cute that you think I can’t keep up with you.” Rafe flips you onto your back and grips onto the back of your thighs as he kneels on the couch in front of you so he can pound into you harder and deeper than ever. “Rub your pussy for me.”

“Fuck, daddy, I’m so close.” You moan loudly as you bring your finger to your slick clit and rub circles on it. Rafe grips onto your throat and pins you to the couch cushion as he continues to plow into you. “Want you to fill me up, please?”

“Yeah? I’ll give you my cum as soon as you give me one more. Cum for daddy, sugar.” Rafe squeezes your throat as his dick hits your g-spot and your fingers rub your clit just right and it has euphoria washing over your body. Your pussy is like a vice grip around him and the pretty little moans you’re letting out as you come undone for him has Rafe spilling inside you. He doesn’t know if he’s ever cum this much in his life as his cock continues to pulse inside you and fill you with ropes of his cum. You lay pliant beneath him as you look up at him like he hung the stars and it fills him with pride, “Yeah, that’s my good little girl.”

“I’m fucking obsessed with you.” You breathe out and saying it outloud feels like the biggest weight off your shoulders. “I’ve wanted you so fucking badly, Rafe.”

“God, baby.” Rafe grabs your face in his hands and runs his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so god damn I’m obsessed with you too. Now that I’ve had you, I never wanna let you go. I’m addicted.”

“Yeah? Well you never have to. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have an attitude and tease you about your old man knees until the end of time.” You giggle when he throws you a playful glare and it makes a wide smile break out onto his face. “But who knows? Maybe I can be tamed one day, looks like you’ll just have to keep fucking me to find out…”

“I think I can manage that, angel, starting now.” Rafe leans down and kisses you sweetly before gripping onto your hips and standing up to throw you over his shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of this house, starting with my bed.”

In that moment you think to yourself that maybe sometimes birthday wishes really do come true. You both know shit is complicated, but right now you don’t care. You finally have him, and you’ll figure it out together.

Tagging mooties: @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @eddiesxangel @that-sarcastic-writer @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @moonlightseranade 🤍

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ If you made it this far, thanks for sticking around for all 13k words!! I put my blood, sweat, tears, pussy, heart, soul into this. I hope you enjoyed !! DILF!Rafe moodboard ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Divider by @anitalenia