#but i just.. rly hope he pulls through
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i literally have the pigeon corpse in my freezer
#stream#like#girl what do i do !!!!!!!!!!!#i want to taxidermy him đđđ#give him the honor he deserved in life that he wasnât allowed to achieve#iâm still so devastated it rly did break me#iâm going to go feed the birdys bc iâm at my old flat rn shitting#bc i need to go across town & move other shit too but still#iâm still so upset like đđđđđ#I WISH I WAS ABLE TO SAVE HIM#i just feel like i couldâve done more maybe i shouldâve had him euthanized when the vets offered but i didnât want to bc i was hoping heâd#be able to pull through but he didnât & im afraid he was in so much pain when he passed#but he was in a comfy box w my sheets literally they were the same sheets i was sleeping on deadass i flew up the stairs & just pulled them#off the bed asap to put him somewhere warm & soft & he was doing alright#but i gave him water - he refused to eat - he was drinking and then i let him chill again but when i returned w more stuff he was gone#iâm still so upset#iâm not allowed to cry#anyway
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hate to be lame
rafe cameron x reader
â in which y/n, caught in a situationship with rafe, struggles to admit she might love him, constantly holding back her feelings while fearing that confessing could make things more complicated.
inspired by: âhate to be lameâ (major) & âceilingsâ (minor) by lizzy mcalpine
warnings: super long omfg, me treating this like a music video again LMAO, situationships, swearing, mention of drug use, no hard concepts just rafe who canât commit to you (yet)
authors note: this has been in the works for a good few weeks lowkey. i literally studied lizzy mcalpine mvs top to BOTTOM to rly portray this mini story as best as i can. hope u guys enjoy!!
i tried to add as much as i could for ppl to notice (hopefully), but ESPECIALLY like parallels of the beginning n the end of the oneshot with the opening of the door and saying âheyâ!! i wanted this to be little short film core
your room is cold, and you feel your fingers tingling as you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. the clock ticks softly, but each minute feels slower than the last.
you arenât sure why, but today youâre more anxious than usual, counting down the seconds until rafe shows up. itâs not like you have any real plans, just the usual aimless drive or hanging out.
but the thought of seeing him againâhis smile, the way he looks at you, even when heâs not saying anythingâmakes waiting almost unbearable.
youâve been more than friends but less than boyfriend and girlfriend for the past five months now. you know itâs wrong, but you know youâll do the same thing youâll be doing until you reach six months: push it aside and just enjoy the moment.
you canât tell if rafe is only there for the pleasure, but if thatâs the case then you wouldnât be hearing about his dreams or the way he struggles with trust. and youâre foolish enough to believe that maybe heâs just scared, and thatâs why he canât commit.
right on time, his texts come in one after the other.
â hey â
â otw â
â 5 minutes â
a faint smile tugs at your lips as you send him a quick âokay,â watching the message sit there, unread. but when the notification changes to âreadâ and thereâs no reply, you drop your phone on your bed and get up.
just as youâre finishing, the faint sound of a knock echoes through the house, and you know that itâs him. you head downstairs quickly, and when you finally reach the front door, your hand hesitates on the handle, but you push them down and swing it open, revealing him standing there. his gaze flickers over you, a small smirk playing on his lips.
âhey,â he says.
and thereâs that smile again, âhey.â
rafeâs ring-clad hand grips the steering wheel tightly, veins visible beneath his skin as his knuckles flex. his other arm is draped out the open window, resting easily on the door. you glance over at him, watching the way he seems so effortless behind the wheel, like he was born to be in control, and the engine hums beneath you.
you canât help but steal glances at him, the way his jaw sets when he focuses, the flicker of light as it catches on his ring every time he turns the wheel. you wonder if he knows how these small details, the smallest shifts in his posture, have started to consume your thoughts.
you know what this is supposed to beâcasual, undefinedâbut sitting here, so close to him, makes it harder to convince yourself that itâs just that. just casual.
and sometimes it makes you wonderâdoes he feel it too? does he fight the same pull you do?
you and rafe end up at a two-story building, bright and welcoming downstairs. itâs one of those places youâd mentioned a few times, new on the island, somewhere youâd been dying to try.
upstairs, you grab a table in the open air, no roof above, just the sky. pillars hold up a net laced with flowers and plants, the same ones woven into the buildingâs logo on the far wall. a bar counter curves along that wall, half-circling it. itâs gorgeous.
youâre laughing, enjoying lunch with him. he looks beautiful, just by being there, the way he always has. doesnât matter what you areâfriends, strangers, stuck in this limbo of a situationshipâyouâve always felt this way about him.
rafe leans forward, arms crossed on the table, telling you a story that keeps you laughing, each detail funnier than the last.
eventually, the day drifts into the afternoon, and you find yourselves in town, just hanging out. you drag him into a bookstore, then a music store, even a museum, wandering from place to place. hours later, when youâre hungry again, you make a quick stop a small convenience store.
youâre tucking your phone into your purse when you glance outside, noticing the skyâs turned dark, and more importantly, itâs raining.
âalright, catch you later, simon. thanks!â rafe says, grabbing the snacks off the counter. he raises his free hand in a quick wave as he turns, glancing down at you with a smirk while you follow him out.
rafe hands you your snacks, and you take them with a small smile, watching him closely to see his reaction when he realizes it started raining while you were inside. his brows raise as he looks outside, then down at you again. both of you are thinking the same thingâyou parked a block away, and now youâll have to rush to the car without getting soaked.
you pop a piece of candy in your mouth, staring at the rain across the street, when rafe reaches out. âcâmon,â he murmurs, and you take it without hesitation.
the two of you make a break for it, trying to walk as fast as possible without slipping or getting in the way of traffic. the rain pelts down around you, but youâre laughing, and rafeâs grinning as you both duck under the first marquee for cover.
you both continue walking, the car finally coming into view just up ahead. he has to jog around to get to the driver's side. as he moves, you step out from under the last marquee and into the rain, letting it soak through your clothes and into your skin. you tilt your head up, eyes clamped shut, nose scrunched, savoring the moment, even if itâs just a few seconds of quiet, cold rain.
âget in the car,â rafe calls out, his voice cutting through the sound, and you glance over at him, already opening the door.
you shoot him a look, digging into your bag of candy, before tossing a piece at him like heâs ruined the moment. it bounces off his shoulder and he slides into the car without another word, but you can tell heâs amused. with a sigh, you climb into the passenger seat, still dripping wet.
before you know it, the car slows, the tires crunching against the gravel as rafe pulls up to his house. itâs massive, even more so than you remember. cold and impressive, it stands there like a fortressâhis world.
for a second, youâre lost in thought. rafe pulls into the garage, parking to avoid the rain still pouring outside. he gets out, crumpling the empty chip bag in his hand, twisting off the lid to his drink with the other to take a few gulps before shutting the car door.
you linger inside a bit longer, popping another candy into your mouth as your eyes wander around the cameronsâ garageâmessy, yet somehow still clean and wide open.
rafe rounds the front of the car, heading for the door that leads into the house. without a word, he slips inside, leaving you behind in the garage. he does leave his keys on the table beside the door, trusting you to lock the car for him since youâre still in there.
you sit there a moment, your head tilting as you look over at the driverâs seat, replaying the small moments in your mindârunning across the street in the rain, how heâs paid for you, or the simple âheyâ when he picked you up earlier.
a small, soft smile touches your lips before you finally get out of the car. you crush the candy wrapper in your fist, grab the keys to lock the car, and slip inside the house, the garage door clicking shut behind you.
after hours of being at the cameronâs, only the soft patter of raindrops now begins tapping against the glass, just as you settle into the familiar bay window. you tuck your legs beneath you, leaning your head against the window frame as you stare out into the backyard.
youâve sat here so many times beforeâusually with sarah, the two of you giggling about nothing in particular, watching the sky and talking about anything. but tonight, itâs just you and rafe.
the house feels quieter without her, without anyone really, except for the occasional murmur of rafeâs voice as he takes his phone call from the other room. he was quick to excuse himself when the phone rang, retreating upstairs where you couldn't overhear. not that youâd pry, but itâs not like you donât know about rafeâs involvement with deals in the outerbanks, drugs, cash, or both. you turn a blind eye.
he walks back into the room eventually, his footsteps quiet but still pulling your focus from the window. you feel him glance at you, almost like he's about to say something, but he hesitates when he notices the way youâre sitting there, staring out at the rain.
he knows you too wellâyears of history have given him that advantage, not just the past few months of this undefined mess you're both tangled in. heâs seen you like this before, especially today, always itching to be outside when the rain falls, drawn to it in a way heâs never really understood.
without a word, he walks over to the door leading to the backyard. the soft creak of the door handle catches your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. you watch as he stands there for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe, looking at you.
no words pass between you, but the way he gestures outside, a playful tilt of his head, says everything. itâs almost like a silent âafter youâ as if heâs jokingly daring you to go out into the rain.
a smile breaks across your face, and before you know it, youâre up. you brush past him, feeling his presence right behind you as you step outside. the cool rain meets your skin, soaking into your clothes almost instantly, but you donât care. rafe is close, following you out into the yard, his chuckle barely audible over the sound of the rain as it picks up.
the two of you donât need to say anything. you just move, running across the wet grass, spinning around to feel the individual drops as they fall on your face. you pause every now and then, standing in place, arms spread out wide to feel the rain cover you like a blanket. but the peace never lasts long before rafe is at your side again, tackling you to the ground with a sudden burst of energy. you both fall, rolling across the grass in a fit of laughter, his weight pressing into you briefly before you push him off with a shove.
you end up on your backs, lying there side by side in the rain. your breath comes in short bursts from all the laughing, and thereâs a calmness that settles over the two of you. you turn your head to look at him, and thereâs something in the way he looks back at you, rain dripping down his face. itâs just you and him, the world around you disappearing into the sound of the rain, the hum of your heartbeat in your ears.
in that moment, you feel something deeper. something that goes beyond the undefined territory youâve been navigating for months. thereâs a connectionâstronger than before, pulling you in, making you wonder how you ever let yourself fall this far. you feel it with every glance, every brush of his hand against yours as you lay there.
and then, almost without warning, itâs over. youâre in the car again, the engine quietly rumbling as rafe drives you home. the rain hasnât let up, the windshield wipers swishing back and forth, and the streetlights blur past as you sit in silence.
you sit in the passengers seat, wrapped in rafeâs oversized hoodie, the warmth of it settling against your skin, but the comfort feels fleeting. your clothes had been drenched from the rain, and now, youâre dressed in his.
you donât want it to end. when you were out there with him, laughing in the rain, time seemed to stretch. it was simple, effortlessâlike the world stopped just for you. you find yourself wishing it could stay that way, even for just a little longer.
but now, here you are, in his car, the night creeping closer to its end as he drives you home. you rest your head against the seat, staring out at the blurry glow of the streetlights through the rain-streaked windows. in your mind, the memories play on repeat, each one a familiar echo of nights like this.
thereâs a patternâyou recognize it now. the closeness, the laughter, the silence when neither of you acknowledges what this really is. a situationship, something more than friendship but never quite a relationship. yet, despite it all, you donât care. being with him in this confusing, undefined space feels better than being without him.
the car slows as he pulls up to your house, and the quiet reality hits. you glance at him, but he doesnât say anything, just pulls out his phone when he gets a phone call, but he glances at you when you just sit there. itâs enough. you step out into the cool air, the dampness of the rain lingering in the night as you head inside.
the house is quiet, save for the faint clink of dishes in the kitchen. you walk in, and as you make your way to the fridge, your mom looks up from the counter, her eyes catching on your borrowed clothes. âwhose clothes are those?â she asks, her voice casual but curious.
you shrug, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. ârafes,â you reply simply, like itâs the most natural thing in the world. you donât stick around for her reaction, turning and heading for the stairs, the sound of your footsteps fading as you make your way up.
as soon as you reach your room, you dive onto your bed and roll onto your back. your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling your attention. with a sigh, you pull it out and open a group chat with your friends. for a second, your fingers hover over the screen, and then, without thinking too much, you begin typing.
how do you know when ur in
your fingers pause over the last word. the L word. it feels too heavy, too real to even finish typing. your thoughts stumble, second-guessing. do you really want their advice on this? what would they even say? maybe itâs not something your friends can help you with. not this.
with a slight shake of your head, you delete the message, watching the cursor blink on an empty screen before you lock your phone and drop it onto your chest.
just nights later, you get word that some pogues are throwing a party at the boneyard, but itâs not just anyâitâs sarahâs friends.
you look over to rafe as he gets out of the car, his eyes scanning the beach. topper and kelce are already talking by the car, but rafeâs focus is sharp, as if nothing really starts until he steps into the mix.
he walks around to your side, opening the door and offering his hand. you take it so he can help you out of the car. his grip is firm, the way he holds you close as you step onto the soft sand beneath your shoes.
his arm is slung across your shoulder, and he gives you a playful shake as he leads the way toward the party.
even though he doesnât say a word, the pressure of his touch says enough. itâs protective, almost possessive, like heâs staking a claim. you glance at him.
he wants you close, needs you to be within his reach, and you know itâs not just casual. itâs the way he is, the way heâs always been with youâcontrolling, protective. he walks slightly ahead, his arm guiding you forward as if heâs leading you, ensuring youâre exactly where he wants you to be.
and despite the way your body tenses beneath his touch, despite the chill that runs through you as his fingers press into your back, you let him. you tell yourself itâs just rafe being rafeâalways wanting control, always needing to know where you are. itâs intoxicating in a way, the way he holds you there, the way heâs so sure that you belong with him.
your skin prickles, not because youâre afraid, but because thereâs a part of you that knows this isnât normalâthis isnât how it should feel. yet, despite that little voice in the back of your mind, you follow him. you always do.
you make your way into the heart of the party with your friends. the air smells like salt and smoke, laughter and music filling the space between the flickering bonfires. rafeâs hand slips from yours, but he doesnât stray far, keeping close as he weaves his way through the crowd.
people greet himâsome with a nod, some with a smileâbut itâs like thereâs an invisible line drawn around the two of you, keeping the rest of the world at armâs length. and you donât mind. not when it feels this good.
it doesnât take long before rafe comes back with some drinks, and without missing a beat, he pulls you in closer to him. you laugh, sip your drink, and enjoy the chaos of the night, but thereâs a quiet satisfaction that hums underneath it all. itâs the feeling of practically being hisâof knowing that he knows it too.
the night spirals into a blur. somewhere between the music and the shots, youâve lost count of how much youâve had to drink. the warmth of the alcohol buzzes through your veins, making everything feel softer, the edges of reality blurring. but topper is there to catch you when you start to sway just a little too much.
âyou okay?â he asks, his voice warm as a faint smile appears on his face.
âyeah, just a little tipsy,â you giggle, leaning into him, feeling the world tilt slightly.
as the night wears on, you find yourself laughing at everything, dancing wildly under the stars, the sound of waves crashing nearby blending with the music. but by the end of the night, itâs clear youâre done. youâre not sure if itâs the drinks or the way rafe is nowhere to be seen half of the time.
âthis party is lame,â rafe comments as he finds you, topper, and kelce by a bonfire. heâs holding one of the red solo cups but heâs uninterested.
kelce shrugs, âto you, maybe. âcause thereâs no snow.â
rafe weaves his way through the boys to reach you. âyouâre staying with me tonight,â he says, and you donât argue. you just nod, letting him guide you to the car, his hand gripping yours like an anchor.
once you reach his car, he opens the door for you, his hand lingering on your waist as you slide into the passenger seat. âyou really had a good time, huh?â he teases, starting the engine.
âbest night ever,â you reply, a goofy grin spreading across your face. you look over at him, feeling a warmth blooming in your chest, the alcohol making everything feel more intense. you just wish you saw more of him that night.
when you arrive at his house, he helps you out of the car. you stumble slightly but he catches you. âeasy, easy,â he mutters, leading you inside.
even when his words are dry, and his touch is barely there, you cling to moments like this, convincing yourself it means something.
still, being this close feels good. it always does. you want to tell himâeverything. to spill out the truth thatâs been gnawing at you for weeks, months. but you know better. donât ruin the moment, you think, your teeth worrying your bottom lip. itâs too good to ruin. too fragile to risk.
you want to tell him everything, to let it all out. but you canât. not when heâs like this, not when he looks at you like nothingâs changed.
and now, youâre lying in his bed, the room spinning just a little. the pillows are soft beneath your head, and rafe is standing at the edge of the bed, watching you. his expression is unreadable, but thereâs a slight furrow in his brow, like heâs trying to figure something out.
âjust get some rest. youâll feel better in the morning,â he says.
heâs standing over you, and for a moment, your thoughts are louder than the room. he looks at you like he always doesâunreadable. it feels like the words are stuck, heavy and burning at the back of your throat. maybe he already knows. he has to. with how often youâre by his side, how youâve never left, even when heâs cold and distant. itâs so obvious, isnât it?
âokay. thank you for taking care of me,â you murmur, your words slurring slightly, the alcohol clouding your mind. you look at him, trying to read his expression, wanting to see somethingâanythingâthat suggests he cares.
you bite your tongue, trying to keep it all inside, but then the words start slipping, slow at first, like they have a mind of their own. âi loveââ
you catch yourself, the words teetering on the edge of your lips. your heart races as you realize what you almost let slip, a rush of fear flooding through you. what are you doing? your heart is pounding and you feel like within a second, youâre able to turn completely sober.
silence. itâs so loud itâs almost suffocating. you force yourself to look up, desperately searching his face for a reaction, anything. but thereâs nothing. his expression doesnât change, not even a flicker of surprise or discomfort. just that same calm, indifferent look he always has.
itâs like he didnât even register itâor something worse.
âgo to sleep,â he says, his voice flat. he takes a step back, glancing towards the door, like heâs already moving on. âiâll be back.â
all you can do is nod, your heart still racing from the near-slip. âokay,â you whisper, and you pull the blanket tighter around you.
you canât breathe. you canât move. your heart is still racing as you watch him leave, the door closing softly behind him. you sink back into the bed, pulling the covers over yourself, but the warmth is gone.
your head spins with everything unsaid, and you canât shake the feeling that itâs too late.
he doesnât care. he doesnât care the way you do. the words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. a chill runs down your spine as you replay the moment in your head, the way he dismissed your feelings without even a second glance.
he doesnât care that you almost admitted you loved him? that, or . . . yeah, rafe already knows. and in some way, that scares you more than anything.
you can remember the first time you met rafeâback when you were kids, in middle school. youâd known of the cameron family, but youâd never been around enough to meet rafe specifically. for so long, it felt like you were in two different worlds. but in middle school, rafe finally noticed you, only to say something rude.
it stung, but you were kids. that was the odd beginning of your friendship. it was rough at first, barely getting along most of the time as barely acquaintances. still, you liked being friends with sarah, even if she was a few years younger. you two werenât super close because of the age gap, but once you hit high school, you didnât mind looking out for her when she needed it.
only then did rafe approach you again since middle school. he told you to stay away from his sister, as if you were some kind of bad influence. you werenât, and you told him as much, calling him stupid. that was the end of itâfor that day, at least.
you two shared more classes that junior year than you wouldâve liked, which meant seeing him nearly every day. you never went out of your way to be rude unless he started it, and he always did. if he saw you, he usually took the chance to say or do something to get under your skin. still, it wasnât like he was out to get youâit was more like an unspoken routine.
things only lightened up in senior year. you ended up helping him at some volunteer event he didnât want to go to, and neither did you. youâd brought a flask, figuring it would take the edge off the boredom, and it helped break the ice between you two.
by the next week, you crossed paths again. you drove yourself to and from school, but your tire went flat one day, probably from driving over something sharp in the parking lot while pulling in during the morning.
you didnât know how to change it, and as luck would have it, rafe spotted you on his way to his friendâs car. he stopped and helped you out. ever since that day, it felt like something shifted, and the foundation for your friendship started to take root.
ây/n,â rafe calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. you immediately turn to your window, tearing off your blankets as you make your way over to peek between the blinds.
there he is, leaning casually against the door of his truck, chewing some gum and fiddling with the wrapper. without wasting time, you rush to pull on your shoes and grab your bag, ready to head out.
now, youâre leaning against the rail of kelceâs boat, staring into your cup as the wind whips around you. itâs the usual sandbar party, and youâre already en route, cruising across the water.
the sun is bright, forcing you to squint when you glance up, scanning the boat for familiar faces. kooks everywhereâlaughing, drinking, pre-gaming before the afternoon on the beach. in one hand, you clutch your drink and a pair of sunglasses, in the other, your phone.
you absentmindedly toss your hair off your shoulder, then peer over the rail to watch the water rush past beneath you. two people approachâa boy and a girl, probably friends of kelceâs since everyone got an invite to ride with him.
they linger nearby, the girl shifting nervously until she finally speaks up, âi like your top.â her words come out fast, almost as if sheâs afraid you wonât hear her.
you glance her way, taking her in with a brief nod. âi like your . . . shoes,â you reply, offering a small smile. the girlâs wearing sneakersânot exactly the best choice for a day at the beach, but youâre just poking fun.
she seems to miss the teasing tone, accepting the compliment with a hesitant, âthanks.â
the boy steps forward now, smoothly joining the conversation. âhow long you been in the outer banks?â he asks, like itâs no big deal, just another casual question.
you tilt your head slightly, thinking for a moment. âmost of my life. you and your girl new to the island?â
the boy looks quickly at the girl, and she immediately looks away. âno, weâre just friends,â he says, glancing back at you while you watch them both closely. thereâs something unspoken between them, thoughâespecially when the girl throws him a quick, hurt look. clearly, thereâs more to their story.
you extend your hand, breaking the tension. ây/n.â
âjasper,â he says, shaking your hand, and for a moment, his gaze locks with yours. but your attention quickly shifts to the girl beside him. you hold out your hand, waiting for her introduction, and after a brief pause, she reaches out.
âiâm isabelle,â she mumbles softly, her voice almost getting lost in the wind.
you give her a genuine smile. the teasing earlier probably didnât help, but this feels like a better moment. you shake her hand, but something catches your eye. the light glints off the bracelet on her wrist, a delicate piece of jewelry that stands out against her skin. instinctively, you pause, twisting her hand gently to get a better look.
âthatâs really pretty,â you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. isabelle looks a little flustered, glancing down at the bracelet herself before offering an awkward smile.
âmy mom gave it to me recently,â she explains, her voice soft, almost like sheâs revealing something personal.
you raise your eyebrows, nodding like you figured. âshe has good taste,â you say, pulling your hand away and giving her a playful grin. âi wish i had one like that.â
isabelle smiles, this time with a bit more warmth, as you take a sip of your drink. beside you, jasper checks his beer can, frowning slightly.
âiâm out,â he says, looking toward where kelce and rafe are talking. âkelce said he had some in the cooler. be right back.â
you watch him go, your eyes drifting toward rafe as he talks with kelce. for a second, you catch him looking at you, the briefest flicker of attention before he refocuses on jasper approaching. jasperâs probably asking where the cooler is.
you glance over at isabelle, whoâs now standing beside you, her posture awkward, her drink clutched tightly in her hand.
you tilt your head at her, curiosity getting the better of you. âis he sure that you and him are just friends?â
isabelle looks startled, her eyes widening as she whips back around to face you, blinking rapidly like sheâs been caught off guard. she looks away, the blush creeping into her cheeks as she stares down at her drink.
âheâs sure,â she mumbles, her voice small. âiâm not.â
you wince. the way she said it, the quiet frustrationâit all sounds way too familiar. but you wave the thought off. itâs not about you right now.
isabelle looks at you, her lips twitching upward in a shy smile. âiâve liked him since we were kids,â she admits, the words spilling out now like sheâs been holding onto them for too long. âweâre only here for the summer, and our parents are best friends with kelceâs, so . . . i donât know. itâs just complicated. i donât think he can even read any of the hints i throw at him.â
you place a delicate hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. âwell, if he doesnât see that, then heâs stupid,â you say with a small smile, your tone light but firm. âseriously, heâs an idiot if he canât tell.â
you give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. âheâll either figure it out, or youâll find someone whoâs not blind,â you say, shrugging. âeither way, youâve got it.â
isabelle shakes her head and looks down at her drink, swirling it gently, the ice clinking softly against the plastic cup. sheâs quiet for a second, like sheâs not sure if she should even bother saying the rest. but then she lets out a sigh, giving in.
âyou know,â she starts, voice low but steady, âsometimes i wonder if he even notices. like, iâve tried. i really have. but sometimes i feel like heâs just choosing not to see it. maybe itâs easier for him that way, not having to deal with what comes next. and . . . what if iâm wasting all this time waiting for something thatâs never going to happen? that scares me the most. i donât want to look back and feel stupid for hoping.â
isabelle glances up, her brows furrowed, a soft laugh escaping her that sounds more like a breath of frustration. âbut what really gets me is the fear of losing him completely. like, what if thisâthis friendship, or whatever it isâis all weâre meant to be? if i tell him, and he doesnât feel the same . . . i ruin everything. so maybe i should just keep this, even if itâs not everything i want, than lose him altogether.â
you listen in silence, your chest tightening as isabelleâs words sink in. you nod slightly, acknowledging how close to home they hit. itâs like sheâs pulled the thoughts straight from your own mind and laid them out between you.
all those late nights you spent wondering the same thing about rafe, the moments you brushed aside the hints you were giving him, thinking it was easier for him not to notice. you regret the other night at the party. thatâs probably the furthest youâve gotten to practically telling him how you feel.
because dealing with what comes afterâif there is even any afterâwould change everything. maybe youâre scared of that too. of ruining whatever it is you already have, even if itâs not enough anymore.
isabelle takes an innocent sip of her drink, like she hadnât just spilled her deepest fears. she glances around, shrugging softly. âanyway, thatâs how my love life is going.â she laughs, but itâs hollow, like sheâs trying to play it off as nothing, like it doesnât really matter.
you donât respond right away. instead, you find yourself staring at her, watching as she shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with the vulnerability she just shared. your gaze drifts, following the trail of sunlight dancing over the water as the boat cuts through it.
isabelleâs words replay in your mind, over and over, threading together with every uncertain feeling youâve been holding onto about rafe. youâve been walking this fine line with him for what feels like forever, stuck between wanting more and being afraid of losing what you already have. and now, youâre not sure which way youâre leaning anymore.
you pause for a moment, thinking. the words hang on your tongue, but youâre not sure if you should ask. finally, you look at isabelle, your voice careful, like youâre testing the waters. âso youâre just never gonna tell him?â you ask, the question feeling like itâs aimed at both of you.
isabelle shakes her head quickly, like she didnât mean for it to sound that definite. âno, not never,â she says, shrugging. âthis isnât something iâd take to my grave or anything. maybe when weâre older, when things arenât so clustered for us right now. i think if we were around each other more often, maybe then iâd say something, but thatâs not something i can risk under our circumstances right now.â
you just nod, absorbing her words. there it isâthatâs what sets you and isabelle apart.
you get it, the fear of telling someone how you feel, whether itâs like or love, especially when the timing is off or the distance makes it easier to hide. but you and rafe? thereâs no distance, no gap keeping you apart. youâve been inseparable for years, always around each other, no excuses. and yet, here you are.
you blink a few times, but you donât say anything, the weight of it settling between you and isabelle like a silent understanding. you both turn your attention to the horizon as the boat nears the shore of an island not far from figure eight.
you lean into rafeâs side, his arm draped casually across your shoulder, pulling you in closer, while he talks to the groupâkelce, topper, isabelle, jasperâall standing around in a loose circle.
laughter flows freely, and the air smells like sunscreen and the salt of the ocean. people all around have set up umbrellas, towels, coolersâtransforming the stretch of beach into a party thatâs as chaotic as it is carefree. music blares from portable speakers, the kind you feel in your chest, vibrating through the sand.
volleyball games erupt further down the beach, and the sound of drunken laughter and splashing water fills the air as people float lazily on oversized inflatables.
someone cheers as a girl stumbles down to the water, pulling up her shirt in a flash of skin before diving in, the moment met with more hollering and clapping. it's all easy, lightâeveryoneâs just letting loose, and youâre swept up in it.
you find yourself spending most of the afternoon alongside isabelle, both of you lounging in the sun, sipping drinks and sharing amused glances as the day carries on. thereâs this unspoken ease between you now, something that started back on the boat. you talk without pressure, just floating through the dayâs moments together.
but there are moments with rafe too. he finds you in the crowd, his hand slipping into yours as he tugs you away, guiding you through the chaos. he hugs you close, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in to say something you canât quite hear over the noise, but it doesnât matter. wherever he goes, you follow, and the two of you string each other along from one spot to the next, like youâre tethered together.
and then thereâs that kiss. it happens just before you leave the sandbar, when the sun has started to dip lower in the sky. itâs abrupt, initiated by rafe, but it feels like something he needed to do, like he couldnât let the day end without it.
his lips are warm, lingering on yours longer than usual, and everything else falls away. itâs like youâre the only two people left on the beach, the distant chatter and music fading into the background.
when he pulls back, itâs only for a second before he leans in again, his hands tightening on your waist, not wanting to let you go. you stare up at him after, your heart thudding in your chest, adoration in your eyes as you hold his gaze.
but now youâre home, and the contrast is stark. the dim lighting making the space feel colder, emptier. the energy of the sandbar is gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. you sit on your couch, your leg bounces up and down, restless, as you stare blankly ahead.
the silence of your empty house is deafening. the faint ringing in your ears from the silence draws you into your thoughtsâback to yesterday, back to the way rafe held you close, the way his presence felt like an anchor.
you felt safe, maybe even whole, when you were with him. but now, sitting here alone, the difference is almost suffocating. itâs strange how quickly it can shiftâone day surrounded by people, warmth, noise, and the next, alone with only your thoughts, replaying every detail, every touch, every feeling.
the way things are now, itâs safe. thereâs no risk, no line to cross that you canât uncross. but if you were to tell him, to lay it all out there, could you handle the fallout?
because what if he doesnât feel the same?
but then he kissed you. like he did yesterday, so suddenly, so effortlessly, pulling you into him like itâs second nature. itâs like he knew exactly when to pull you back in, just when you were starting to think too much. and just like that, all those questions youâve been holding onto, the ones that sit heavy on your chest every time youâre near him, dissolve. because when he kisses you like that, itâs easy to forget everything else.
they vanish, swallowed by the feeling of him, so close, making you feel like maybe you donât need to figure it all out right now.
but even then, just for a second, itâs on the tip of your tongue. you almost say it, almost let it slip, but you stop yourself. you always do.
i love you.
you convince yourself itâs not the right time, not the right moment, or maybe itâs not something you should say at all. and just when youâre about to pull away, to push the thought down like you always do, he kissed you again.
and just like that, youâre right back where you started. questioning, doubting, but never fully letting go. the feelings circling around inside you, waiting for the next time youâre close enough for them to surface again.
the next few days blur together, each one melting into the next. it feels as though youâre standing still, trapped in your bubble of emotions while everyone else rushes past you, moving faster and faster.
your best friendâs voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, calling your name with a playful urgency, like sheâs been doing for the past few moments. you blink, looking away from the raindrops on the window and finally focusing on her, the light in her eyes breaking through your haze.
âwhat?â you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, still slightly disoriented.
she laughs, a warm sound that pulls you back into the moment. as she continues talking, you lean into your pillow, letting the comfort envelop you.
the conversation drifts toward summer plansâwhat they have been up to, the adventures theyâve had. your friend shares her own stories of beach trips and spontaneous late-night drives.
âwe should definitely go to that new froyo place tomorrow,â she suggests. âi heard they have all these crazy flavors. oh my gâ remember last summer when we tried to make our own?â
you smile at the memory, letting it wash over you. just as youâre settling into the rhythm of the conversation, your mom pops her head in, breaking the moment. âdinnerâs almost ready,â she calls from the doorway.
âthanks, mom,â you murmur, your voice soft as you turn your head slightly to give her a smile. she nods, and with that, she slips away, leaving the door ajar.
as soon as sheâs gone, you lean back down, resting your elbow on your pillow and propping your head on your hand. your gaze drifts to your phone, almost expectantly, fingers itching to scroll through your notifications. youâre not even sure what youâre hoping for, but the silence feels heavy, and a part of you longs for a message.
your friend watches you closely, an amused smile creeping onto her lips. âdo you want to text him?â she asks casually, the knowing glimmer in her eyes saying sheâs onto you.
âhim?â you feign innocence, raising an eyebrow. there really isnât anyone else in your life who fits the bill like rafe, but you canât just assume. she, however, sees right through you.
âcome on, y/n. you know who iâm talking about.â she gets comfortable on your bed, sinking into the pillows as she watches you, her interest piqued. âwhatâs the deal with him anyway?â
you hesitate, slow to respond, feeling the weight of the question. you canât seem to pinpoint how to explain whatâs been going on. âthings are good,â you say finally, the words feeling vague and hollow even as they leave your lips.
the look on your best friendâs face shifts immediately, arching an eyebrow. âgood? really?â she prompts, tilting her head as if trying to pry more out of you.
you roll your eyes, exasperated by her unwavering gaze. âfine, itâs complicated,â you admit, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. you grab your phone, sinking deeper into your pillow, scrolling through your notifications as if the action could distract you from your tangled thoughts about rafe.
or maybe even check if you even have a notification from him.
she watches you scroll through your phone, her eyes flicking to the slight frown on your face. she doesn't speak right away, just sits there, observing. then, she reaches over, placing her hand gently over your phone and setting it back down on the bed.
ânevermind. you know, youâre gonna drive yourself crazy overthinking like this,â she says softly, shifting to face you more. âsometimes you just gotta rip the band-aid off and stop worrying about what might go wrong. otherwise, youâll be stuck forever.â
you glance at her, unsure if you want to hear it. but sheâs already readjusting her position, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues. âgod knows i wouldâve done things differently with cooper, but you know.â
you lean your head back, letting out a dramatic exhale at the mention of his nameâcooper. youâve heard enough stories to last a lifetime. but you pull your head forward again, looking at her as she reaches over once more, this time placing her hand over yours.
âi just think you should really do it,â she says, her tone more serious now.
you sigh, rubbing your eyes with the arm youâve been propping yourself up on.
âwhatever,â you mumble, shaking off the tension. âletâs go eat dinner. iâm starving.â
after dinner, your friend excuses herself to use the bathroom, leaving you and your mom at the table. your mom finishes up her plate before glancing at you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. âwas it good?â she asks.
you donât say anything, just smile softly and nod. she smiles back, the corners of her eyes crinkling with affection as she gets up to collect the dishes from the table, already moving to tidy up and call it a day.
you stand too, silently helping her by stacking the plates and utensils as she handles putting the leftovers in containers. the clink of dishes and quiet movement fill the space.
when you walk over to the sink, you place the plates inside, fingers lingering on the faucet handle. but you stop. turning around, you fiddle with your hands, the words you've been holding onto threatening to spill out.
your voice is quieter than usual when you finally ask, âhow do you know if you love someone?â
your mom pauses in her search for containers, her hand resting on the cabinet door as she looks over at you. she sets down the lid sheâs holding and turns, studying your face carefully. âwhat do you mean?â her tone is soft, open, and it catches you off guard.
you bite the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding like some naive girl, like a kid who thinks sheâs in love. you lean back against the counter, gripping the edges behind you. âiâm in this situationâliterallyâwith this boy, andââ
your mom cuts in, a knowing smile spreading across her face. âis it rafe?â
you freeze for a second, caught off guard, but the way she says it, almost amused and without judgment, relaxes you. of course she knows. itâs not like you two ever really tried to keep anything a secret. the island knew, your friends knew, but hearing your mom say it so casually makes your lips curl into a sheepish smile. âyeah,â you admit quietly.
your mom crosses her arms, leaning against the counter opposite you, still smiling. âwhatâs going on?â
you exhale softly, unsure where to even begin. âi donât know,â you start, âweâre close, obviously. and heâs been . . . weâve been spending so much time together lately, more than usual. but itâs confusing, you know? like, he doesnât commit, but then there are these moments, like, i feel like thereâs more between us. and i donât want to ruin what we have, but i also donât know if what we have is enough anymore.â
your mom watches you carefully, absorbing everything youâre saying. her expression softens as she considers her words. âi remember when i was your age,â she begins, her voice taking on a reflective tone. âi was in a similar situation with your father. we werenât perfectâfar from itâbut i knew i loved him. i knew it because i was scared of losing him, but more than that, i was willing to fight for him. and i did.â
you blink at her, surprised. she rarely talks about how she and your dad got together, and when she does, itâs usually brief.
âwe had our ups and downs,â she continues. âbut in the end, it was worth it because i didnât give up on what i wanted. and that led me here,â she says, her smile widening as she gestures lightly, âto you.â
you look down, her words settling in. âso youâre saying i should, what? take a chance?â
âiâm saying if you think itâs worth it, if you believe in it, then donât be afraid to fight for it. but you have to be sure, really sure. because if youâre not, itâll show. and rafe? heâll see it.â
your mom moves toward you, placing a gentle hand on your arm. âwhatever happens, just remember, you deserve to be happy. donât settle for anything less.â
youâre still absorbing your momâs words, turning them over in your head, when she leans slightly, nodding toward the back door. âgo,â she says, her tone gentle yet resolute.
you blink, caught completely off guard. âwhâ now?â your voice comes out confused, almost a laugh. you glance toward the window, where rain streaks down the glass. âmom, itâs pouring.â
she waves a hand, like the rain is the least of your worries. "i know. go put on a jacket. tell rafe how you feel."
your chest tightens, a swell of uncertainty rising up again, but thereâs something in the way she looks at youâsomething that makes your heart stutter. âmom,â you start, your voice uncertain, but she interrupts, her expression soft but determined.
âlisten,â she says, stepping closer, her hands gently shooing you toward the door, âitâs when you get to the end of your life that you realize how important the choices you made at the beginning were. youâre young, y/n. you have your whole life ahead of you to figure things out.â she pauses, her eyes meeting yours. âbut you donât want to look back, wondering what wouldâve happened if youâd just taken that chance.â
your breath catches in your throat. you canât deny that a part of you has been afraidâafraid of what admitting your feelings for rafe might do to your friendship, to the years of closeness youâve built. but thereâs something about the way she says it that strikes deep, a kind of clarity youâve been avoiding.
âand,â she continues, stepping back just slightly, "even if it doesnât turn out the way you hope, you both know youâll always work out as friends. youâve known that for a long time now.â she smiles then, soft but sure. âso go.â
you stand there, rooted in place, feeling the weight of your indecision liftâjust a little. your mom knows. sheâs always known. and the more you think about it, the more you realize sheâs right. the fear, the hesitationâit doesnât outweigh what you already know about rafe. about how solid you two are, even in uncertainty.
without another thought, you step forward, pulling her into a tight hug. âthank you,â you murmur into her shoulder, voice muffled but heartfelt. you linger for a second longer, breathing in the familiar scent of home, of comfort. âi owe you for this. and for the dishes next time.â
your mom chuckles as she pulls back. âall you owe me,â she says, brushing a strand of hair from your face, âis handling your friend when she gets back from the bathroom and realizes that youâre not here.â
you grin at that, shaking your head slightly as you turn away. then you rush toward the front door, grabbing a jacket from the table, your fingers fumbling for your car keys. the adrenaline starts kicking in, buzzing beneath your skin, and your heart beats fasterânot from fear, but from excitement. clarity.
the rain hits your face as soon as you step outside, cool droplets splashing against your skin, soaking through the jacket almost instantly. but you donât care. not this time.
you hurry toward the car, slipping behind the wheel, and as the engine roars to life, thereâs only one thing on your mind. youâre not running away anymoreâyouâre going straight to him. straight to rafe, to tell him everything.
your mom is still standing in the kitchen, smiling to herself as she wipes down the counter. your friend emerges from the bathroom, stretching dramatically.
âugh, i have the biggest food baby right now,â she groans, rubbing her stomach with an exaggerated pout. âlike, seriously, i think i might be in my third trimester.â
she stops mid-step, suddenly noticing that you're nowhere to be seen. her gaze flickers around the room, confusion settling on her face. âwhereâs y/n?â
your mom just smiles, glancing up from the counter with a knowing look.
the rain pounds against your windshield and your fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white, as the tires cut through puddles, water splashing up on either side of the road.
itâs dark outside, the kind of dark that makes the world feel like itâs closing in, and yet you drive, the rain blurring everything except for the weight of what youâre about to do.
you can hardly believe you're doing thisâdriving to rafeâs house, of all places, on a night like this. itâs pouring. but the rain, the storm, the darknessâthey almost feel fitting. like the weather outside mirrors the chaos thatâs been brewing inside you for months.
you think about him. about rafe. about the time youâve spent togetherâthe laughs, the touches, the kisses, the way he makes you feel like youâre the only person in the world.
you think about the nights heâs held you close, his breath warm against your neck, and the mornings where he pulls away just a little too soon, leaving you wondering if you imagined it all. itâs like being on a tightrope, balancing between something beautiful and something terrifying.
this thing with him, itâs not really a relationship, is it? itâs more like a maze with no exit, a constant loop of confusion and longing, of wanting more but being afraid to ask for it.
youâve told yourself a thousand times that youâre okay with itâthat whatever this is, itâs enough. but itâs not. and deep down, youâve always known itâs not.
youâve spent so long trying to figure it out. is this love? do you love him? or is it just the idea of him? the way he makes the world feel quieter when everything else is so loud, so overwhelming. youâve wondered if maybe you just needed someone, anyone, to make you feel like you werenât going through life alone. youâve questioned if itâs love or if itâs desperation.
but then you remember the way his eyes soften when he looks at youâlike heâs seeing past every wall youâve ever put up. you remember the way his touch feels like itâs grounding you, like itâs the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. and it hits you, harder than youâve ever allowed it to before. you do love him.
youâve probably never loved anyone as much as you love rafe cameron. and itâs terrifying.
because how do you tell him that? how do you tell someone you love them when youâve spent months pretending youâre fine without a real answer, pretending that this . . . undefined space youâve both been living in is enough?
your mind is racing, your heart too, as the road blurs in front of you. the rain is relentless, but you barely notice. all you can think about is him. about how youâve spent so long holding back, holding yourself in this limbo, waiting for somethingâanythingâto change. but nothing will change unless you make it change.
youâve waited for him to make the first move, to say something, to define whatâs between you, but youâre done waiting. you love him, and whether or not he feels the same, you need him to know. you need to say it out loud. maybe for yourself, more than for him. you canât keep living in this. you deserve more than that.
the rain is pouring harder now, like the sky is trying to drown the world, but it doesnât matter. nothing matters except for the fact that youâre almost there. almost at his house. almost at the point of no return.
your heart is in your throat when you pull into his driveway. you sit there for a moment, the engine still running, the rain beating down on your car, and you just breathe.
but then you remember his smile. his laugh. the way he makes you feel like youâre floating and falling all at once. and you know you have to do this. you canât keep living in the in-between.
you throw your jacket over your head as you step out into the rain, the cold water soaking through your shoes, your pants, everything. itâs freezing, but you barely feel it. you walk up to his front door, your steps heavy, heart even heavier. you knock, once, twice, and then wait.
your heart feels like itâs about to explode. everything youâve wanted to say, everything youâve feltâitâs all bubbling up inside you, ready to spill out the second the door opens. youâre nervous, terrified, but ready. so, so ready.
the door creaks open, and there he is. rafe.
he looks at you, rain-soaked and trembling, and itâs like something clicks in his eyes. like he knows exactly why youâre here. like heâs been waiting for this moment, too.
you smile, a soft, trembling smile, your heart in your throat. âhey.â
he stands there, staring at you with that familiar look, the one thatâs always made you feel like maybeâjust maybeâheâs been feeling the same way all along. and then he smiles back, a small, understanding smile that makes your heart skip a beat.
âhey.â
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You want an excuse to write fratboy!Lando?
Well good thing then that I just absolutely devoured the last fic you posted, isn't it?
If you're up for it, could you maybe do a little 5+1 type thing of Lando being the dominant one and pushing his girl around and telling her what he wants her to do/what he's going to do to her and then one time where he drops the tough act and lets her have control and take care of him and even though he doesn't want to admit it he kind of enjoys being a bit subby from time to time?
I absolutely get it if that's not the direction you were thinking, but the cogs in my head started turning and I thought it wouldn't hurt to drop you an ask ;)
Hope you're doing well luv^^
Okay so I'm baaaad at thinking of 5+1 things lol, so I went 3+1
Warnings: smut, voyeurism, fingering, p in v, unprotected, dom lando, very very very light choking, dacryphilia (but not rly), oral (male!receiving), attempted dom reader, handcuffs
The Library
"Lan," she pushed his hand away. He was being annoying while she was studying, and she kind of loved it.
But she was still trying to study. She batted his hand away when it travelled up her thigh. "I love you, but I really need to get this essay done," she mumbled and squeezed his hand as she placed it back on his own lap.
He sat quietly for a few minutes. But then he got bored, hands tapping against his thighs. "Baby, c'mon," he whined, fingers touching her chin.
He pulled her face towards him. "Let's just have a little fun," he said and pecked her lips. "I." He pecked them again. "Promise." He pecked them again. "To let." He pecked them again. "You study." He pecked them again. "After." Another peck. "Some." He pecked them again. "Fun."
She brought her hands up to touch his cheeks. "Okay Lando," she whispered and pulled him in.
Her arms wrapped around his neck as Lando pulled her onto his lap. The way his hands grippe her hips had her rolling them again him, against his cock. Too many layers of clothing separated them, and Lando hated it.
She was hyper aware of the other people in the library. Pulling away from him, she looked from side to side.
"Relax," he whispered. "Nobody is going to see." He kissed down her throat, leaving purple bruises as he went.
His hands moved to her thighs. The way his fingers travelled beneath her skirt was ticklish, but she didn't laugh, hips moving slowly against him.
He didn't remove her underwear, just pushed it to the side. A laugh left his lips and she quickly clamped her hand over his mouth. "Shut up," she mumbled, head falling onto his shoulder in embarrassment.
"Sorry baby," he said through giggles. "I just didn't expect you to be that wet." His fingers touched her folds and she shuddered.
He toyed with her, traced his fingers around his folds and pressed his thumb to her clit. The mess she was making on his trousers was going to be impossible to hide. He played with her body, pushed two fingers inside of her, breaching her hole.
Two fingers. It was enough of a stretch to have her squeezing her eyes shut and crying out. Lando shushed her and ran his fingers through her hair. "I've got you. Just enjoy it, Baby," he whispered, and she gave a weak nod.
Frat House Couch
Lando held her ass cheeks in his hands, fingers gripping her flesh hard enough to bruise as she rode him. The leather couch beneath them squeaked, but neither of them cared.
Her boobs were bouncing in his face and Lando was loving every second of it. "Fucking hell," he growled out.
His hand came away from her ass, fingers wrapping around her neck. She had tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, her own hand coming up to rest on top of his own.
"This okay, baby?" He whispered, a moment of sweetness.
She nodded as best she could with his hand on her throat. He gave a gentle squeeze and she released a whine. God, she loved it.
"Lando." But that was all he could understand before she started incoherently babbling.
"Oh, baby," he cooed mockingly. "You can let go."
Her legs shook as she obeyed him, squeezing him tight as she came.
Lando thrust up into her just a few more times. If it wasn't for his hand on her throat, she would have completely slumped against him, body bouncing on him.
Lando came inside of her. He stilled as he spilled and slipped out, dick falling limp.
His arms wrapped around her body as she finally slumped against him. "Sweet girl," he whispered and kissed her tear stained cheek. He looked down, watched as their mess dribbled onto his thigh. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Childhood Bedroom
He'd taken her home for Christmas, and couldn't wait to show her the bed he'd lost his virginity in. It had been admittedly awkward when his parents showed her around and he'd whispered that in her ear.
He'd made it so clear that he wanted to recreate that night when he was seventeen, pinched her ass as they followed his unsuspecting parents away from the bedroom.
They waited a few days, until his parents went out for drinks with friends, until they got naked in front of each other.
They'd been taking turns to get dressed in the bathroom. It had been her idea, a way to stop temptation while under his parents roof.
The minute the front door shut, Landos lips was on her. He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it away from her shoulders, exposing herself to him. "No bra?" He asked, reaching out to touch her boobs, to roll her nipples between her fingers.
"Didn't feel like wearing one," she answered with a giggle as she unzipped his trousers and reached her hand inside.
She felt him over his underwear and Lando let out a guttural moan.
Lando grabbed her wrists and pulled her away from his dick. He sat her down and pulled himself from her trousers. "Wanna do me the honours?" He asked as he moved his fingers through her hair and gripped it, holding it up in a ponytail.
She nodded and slipped down to her knees. She wrapped her fingers around his base and kissed his tip.
Fuck, the noise he released was delicious. She could have listened to it on a loop for the rest of her life.
She wrapped her lips around his tip and sucked. She didn't go any further than that, fingers squeezing his base. Sucking and placing little, kitten licks all over.
"Baby, please," lando practically begged, holding himself still so he didn't buck his hips, fuck her face.
She pulled away to blink up at him before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. His pubic hair tickled her noise before she pulled away.
She worked him, throat constricting around him. Lando threw his head back, eyes shut as he let instincts take over, hips moving forward.
It wasn't something she couldn't handle, though. She let him use her, drool dribbling down her chin.
Suddenly, he pulled away from her.
"On the bed," he commanded and she climbed up onto the bed. Lando pulled off her skirt and underwear. He ran his finger through her folds, felt how wet she was. Anything he gathered up ended smeared on his tip.
He took her hand and squeezed. "You ready for me?"
She gave a desperate nod and Lando pushed himself inside of her.
Her Turn
She sat on the bed, looking so pretty in her lacy black lingerie and pretty heels. Lando was due home any minute; he had no idea what she had in store for him.
She kept it hidden behind her back, one hand on it as she heard the door open. Her leg bounced, listening as Lando made his way up the stairs.
The bedroom door opened and the smile on her face few. "Hi baby," he said as he walked into the room. But then he stopped and took her in. The lingerie, the heels, she looked so damn pretty.
"What's this?" He asked as he strode over and placed a kiss on her lips, hand cupping her cheek.
She stood up, her heels making them the same height. She still held it behind her back as she pushed him back on the bed. A grinned crossed her face as she climbed on top of him, sitting on his midsection.
"What're you up to?" He asked as she revealed the item behind her back.
The fluffy pink handcuffs. They'd been bought as a joke, never to actually be used in sex. But by the way Landos dick pressed against his jeans, he was loving it.
She took his hands and raised them above his hand. Securing the handcuffs around his wrists, she attached him to the headboard.
Lando gave an experimental tug. A grin crossed his face when he realised he was secure and sat her mercy.
Her nail trailed down his chest, towards his trousers. She popped the button and pulled down the zipper. Lando raised his hips as she pulled down his trousers and pants, freeing him completely.
Her fingers wrapped around him. She pumped her hand twice before she moved to sit on top of him. Pushing her underwear to the side, she held his cock as she sank down onto him.
Lando let out a groan, head hitting the headboard. "Fuck, baby," he whispered his hips moving.
Leaning down, she gripped his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. It told him everything he needed to know, that she was the one in charge. She rolled her hips once, listened to the noise it pulled from him.
She wasn't ready for how difficult being the one in charge was. She bounced on his cock, getting more and more tired with each movement of her hips.
She let out a whine and stopped moving. "Lando," she mumbled, hand on his chest.
He understood it instantly, a laugh leaving his lips. "Getting tired, baby?" He asked and she gave a pitiful nod. Lando tugged on the handcuffs and she reached forward to unlock it.
As soon as he was free, Lando grabbed her and flipped her over. He tore off her underwear and pushed his dick into her. Each role of his hips had her crying out, finally giving control back to Lando. Well, that was if she ever really had it in the first place.
His pace was brutal and she was loving every second of it. This was where she belonged, beneath Lando as he fucked her senseless.
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader smut#lando norris x you#f1#formula one#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#frat!lando
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waves
pairing: surfer!bf x THICC!male reader
summary: oh, how i need a tall, curly headed goofballâŠ
notes: HOPE MY LOVELIES ARE DOING WELL. trying to get through my requests, but this was a personal one of mine. slowly but surely yâall! as summer is coming to an end, it was SO necessary for me to feed my hot girl delusions at least a couple more times. also, enjoy the new style i have been experimenting with!
song rec: they. - diamonds and pearls
album rec: sabrina carpenter - short n sweet (my girl sabz ate so hard with this project, i just wish it was released in early aug so she couldâve rly CONQUERED summer 2024) THEE POP PRINCESS!
brief background:
your boyfriend was raised with a silver spoon; heâd never had to work a day in his life and everything he ever wanted, he got. well, everything except you. throwing money to impress people had worked on all of his other childhood crushes, but not you, which made him all the more determined to prove to you he wasnât just some fuck boi the media painted him out to be. his family owned the richest resort in the carribean, and had hotels in every mega city worldwide. but wherever they travelled to, your man was never too far from a beach. call it fate, but the sea would always lead you back to him. it was where he first laid eyes on you; reading a very lengthy novel as you laid on the sand, watching your friends play in the water. after their surf practice, your mutual friends introduced the two of you and you were SMITTEN - but you couldnât show your interest too soon. he too was whipped, and didnât take nearly as much effort to hide it, practically drooling whilst staring at you. his mates would constantly ridicule him for his dazed expression around you, and he could never hear the end of the new nickname âbambi boyâ you gave him because he looked so cute when he was flustered. after weeks of regular conversation and a couple walks on the beach, he officially asked to be your boyfriend and you said yes.
when it came to finally introducing you to his family, they loved you almost as much as he did. he was the youngest of six and so he got the privilege of this. his parents especially were wishing yâall would stay together. they believed you were the perfect match for their goofball of a son.
core memory sfw:
the first time he said âi love youâ with TRUE meaning; you were always worried that you were just one fuck away from being forgotten, but your man made sure to constantly affirm his love for you. he brought you the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers, and stood outside in the pouring rain, playing a mixtape heâd made for you. it was genuinely a scene out of a film, he was your knight in shining armour (a hawaiian shirt and matching shorts) and it was then that you knew that you guys were endgame.
core memory nsfw:
to say your bf loves your body is an understatement. the way heâs hooked on your body, some might say itâs borderline unhealthy. heâs so handy and keeps his hands on your ass all the time. whether itâs a spank, watching it jiggle as you walk away from him, or a full on grip as his pulls you onto his dick, heâs a man that would gladly die between your cheeks. one time during dinner you wore a wrap skirt paired with a tank top, paired with a thong that was peeping out enough to make your manâs eyes pop out of his head like a cartoon character. as his jaw dropped, practically salivating at the sight of your body moving closer to him, you picked it up and giggled, stroking his chin endearingly. for the entire meal he was practically sat right next to you, breathing in your luscious skin. âboy, you better calm down, we have company.â you giggled. âfuck bby, how can you say that when you look good enough for me to eat?â he whispered into your ear, trying not to bring too much attention. before you knew it you were face down, ass up and your thong was pulled to the side, as he used it as a pseudo leash keeping your pussy bouncing on his cock.
your favourite thing about him: his oddball nature.
as much as it can annoy you that heâs always cracking jokes, leaving no room for respite, your bf never fails to bring joy to your life. as the life of the party heâs always bringing that much needed energy to the dull world of his mostly corporate family. whether it be seeing you hollering at some unhinged thing heâd said, or watching him (ironically) fuck the smile onto your lips, you can tell that comedy is who he is, and you wouldnât change your weirdo for anything.
his favourite thing about you: how artistic you are.
almost impossibly, it makes your boyfriend fall in love with you even more seeing your creativity flourish. youâre always making him jewellery out of the shells and stones you find. he loves to wear them, it gets you going when you see the necklace you made for him swing back and forth as he fucks into you. or when you feel the cold of his rings and bracelet on your waist as he holds you in position to fuck you even harder. heâs so proud of you.
his insta post: mostly just him showing off his good looks (we love a cocky man around here) and his beach flix.
surfer!bf my face is his favourite seat.
y/n: that big dick is a very close second though.
tinashe replied: @y/n, you a nasty girl fr.
sabrinacarpenter replied: @y/n girl, need you on that bed chem remix. about to do some damageâŠin a good way x
your insta post: almost always pictures of your creations; you like to keep your relationship with him private, thatâs YOUR man, and you can get very possessive.
y/n feel free to add to your pinterest boards.
surfer!bf: baby youâre so talented đ©”
viviennewestwood: so excited to see your next collection!
surfer!bf: i love you.
y/n replied: @surfer!bf aw, i love you too babes!
plans for the future!
being with one of the greatest surfers in the world, definitely came with some amazing perks.
marriage:
oh, heâs 100% thought about it, and would definitely be the one to propose. the free spirit in him doesnât need a piece of paper to prove that he loves you, truly. But would totally be your husband if you let him x
children:
your surfer!bf ABSOLUTELY WANTS TO HAVE A FAMILY WITH YOU! sees himself as the best father and yâall would have the cutest kids ever.
tag list:
@gayaristocrat
@multireese
@malereadermaniac
@lysanderplume
@ghostking4m
#gay#bottom male reader#smut#gay male#gay reader#male bottom#male x male#gay love#gay smut#male bottom reader#male x male fluff#male reader#bottom reader
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đ„žđ€«â ïž : JK
He wants something đ€« as down payment before he lets u inside safe haven (a place where survivors go to seek refuge)
(yandere+smut+apocalypse) part of the prompt game pairing: metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader genre: apocalypse!AU, S2L, yandere-ish? warnings: survival after nuclear fallout, dark creatures, denied prostitution for safety, Jungkook is whipped from the start so that should suffice for yandere, foul language, smut, oral (f. receiving), squirting, JK comes in his pants, fluff, lmk if I forgot smth (still hate writing warnings) word count: 3.239 (upsiiii)
a/n: I couldn't rly make JK more yandere without it feeling a bit too dub-con, so I hope that's alright đ also it's heavily inspired by the trilogy '2033' by Dmitri Gluchowski (and to my Russian readers: ĐĐŸŃĐșĐŸĐČŃĐșĐŸĐ” ĐŒĐ”ŃŃĐŸ ĐČŃглŃĐŽĐžŃ ŃĐ°Đș ĐșŃŃŃĐŸ ĐœĐ° ŃĐŸŃĐŸĐłŃĐ°ŃĐžŃŃ
ĐČ ĐžĐœŃĐ”ŃĐœĐ”ŃĐ”, ĐœĐ°ĐŽĐ”ŃŃŃ, ĐŸĐŽĐœĐ°Đ¶ĐŽŃ ŃĐŒĐŸĐłŃ Đ”ĐłĐŸ ĐżĐŸŃĐ”ŃĐžŃŃâșïž)
âąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâąâą
Youâve been wandering for what feels like years, though it could be months, or perhaps just weeks; timeâs an abstract notion now, in this world broken to pieces and baked under a nuclear sun.Â
With each step you take, the weight of exhaustion and your protective suit presses harder against your bones, but you donât let it stop you. The world may be a dying beast, choking on its own ash and poison, but you still walk through it, a lone ember that refuses to snuff itself out. The remnants of cities whisper ghost stories to you as you pass, their bones twisted metal and crumbling concrete, charred earth for flesh. The wind sometimes hisses through the ruins, carrying tales of survivorsâothers like you, fighting, scavenging, enduringâand sometimes itâs silent, as if even the air is holding its breath for fear of whatâs out there in the deep silence of the aftermath.
The black creaturesâthose twisted silhouettes of the apocalypseâroam the earth like shadows unbound from their hosts, moving through the poisoned fog with an unnatural grace that chills your very marrow. They are things of nightmares, remnants of the old world, perhaps, mutated beyond recognition by the fallout or born anew from the hatred that festers in the radioactive soil.Â
Their eyes, if they have any, are voids, consuming light and hope in equal measure, and their movements are barely perceptible until itâs too late, until they are upon you, whispering your end in a language only the dead would understand. They hunt relentlessly, not for sustenance, not for survival, but as if driven by some primal force deeper than instinct, a desire not just to kill but to erase, to wipe away the last remnants of humanity like dust from the pages of a forgotten book.Â
And youâbattered, exhausted, teetering on the edge of oblivionâcannot rest, not here, not ever, because even in your sleep they find you, crawling into your dreams with their inky tendrils, reminding you that peace is a luxury no longer afforded to the living outside of shelter.
Your gas mask, an old friend now, covers your face like a second skin at this point, the filters clogged and heavy with days of dust, radiation, and fumes. Youâve noticed the way it pulls in air with more effort now, as if itâs trying to remember how to breathe.Â
You check the filter again. Itâs nearly gone, the little red marker ticking closer to empty with every breath you take. Youâll have to find something new soon or youâll suffocate on the very air that should sustain you.
This isnât the first time youâve tried to find shelter. In those early days, the optimism hadnât yet drained from your veins and the desperation to belong somewhere, anywhere, had clouded your better judgment.Â
There had been menâthose ones with teeth like wolves, eyes like death, always leering, always demanding. Youâve had to pull your knife more than once to remind them that your body isnât for sale, that safety shouldnât cost that much. That death, perhaps, is a kinder alternative to what they would have asked of you.Â
You can still hear their laughter sometimes, echoing in your skullâmocking, cruel. You had fled from them, from their dark gazes and cruel hands, from the taste of fear that licked at your throat when their eyes lingered too long on your body. Better the damnation from outside than their promises of protection.
But today⊠today you find yourself at the mouth of the metro. The entrance yawns wide like a secret, and the shadow of it draws you in, as though itâs reaching out for you. Your steps falter, but only for a momentâjust long enough to recognise the hesitation in your chest, the uncertainty gnawing still on your mind. The thought flickers briefly across your consciousnessâwhat if the people down there are like those others? What if all you find is more violence, more degradation, more proof that humanity has shed its last skin and become nothing more than base instincts and brutality?
But the mask is running low, and you can feel that desperation is creeping back into your bones, burrowing deep. You tighten your grip on the strap of your pack, pushing the fear down, burying it beneath a layer of resolve. Youâve come this far; you wonât turn back now.
The entrance is quietâeerily so, as you push the tall hermetic door open and step inside, closing it quickly after. You glance around, eyes scanning the wreckage for signs of life. Thereâs nothing at first, just the silent exhalation of wind and the low hum of the distant, underground world. Then, movement.
You hear him before you see himâa soft shuffling of boots against stone, the faint click of a weapon being cocked. You freeze, instinctively tightening your grip on your knife as he steps into view.
Tall. Taller than most of the men youâve encountered in these forsaken times. Muscles sculpted from necessity, sinew and strength coiled beneath his clothes like a waiting beast. Heâs staring at you through the mask, gun raised, the barrel pointing at your chest. For a second, neither of you move. Then his eyes flicker downward, just for a moment, taking you in, assessing, like all the others. You brace yourself for whatâs to come.
But it doesnât come.
âTake it off,â he commands, voice low, barely more than a growl. His weapon doesnât waver, and his expression is hidden behind a mask, eyes glinting through the cracked visor.
You hesitate. Thereâs a moment where you think of running, but thereâs nowhere to go. Thereâs only the metro behind him, and the world ahead, both full of uncertainties, both as equally capable of destroying you. You suck in a breath, let it fill your lungs like a final goodbye to the stale air in the mask, and then you reach up to peel it away from your face, your skin sticking to the rubber for a moment before it falls loose.
The air tastes strange on your lipsâmetallic, sharp, almost alien after all this time behind the mask. You lift your eyes to his, half-expecting some sort of reaction, maybe disgust, maybe lust. But instead⊠thereâs something different there, something you hadnât anticipated. His gaze softens, though his grip on the weapon remains steady. He stares at you as though youâre something out of place in this hellscape, something fragile, a curiosity more than a threat. His gun lowers, just slightly, but his eyes donât leave your face, as he too rids himself of his mask.Â
Heâs younger than you thought. Ink spills across his skinâtattoos that ripple over his arm, dark lines twisting around muscles. You catch a glimpse of two piercings through his lip when he tilts his head slightly, like heâs trying to figure you out, and then his lips curve, ever so slightly, not quite a smile but not quite hostility either.
âShelter,â you say, your voice rough, the words like stones scraping against the back of your throat. You cough once, clearing the dust away. âI need shelter.â
He eyes you for a moment longer, his gaze wandering down your frame, but itâs not like beforeânot like the leering stares of the men who sought to take more than they were willing to give. This is different. Thereâs something almost reverent in the way he looks at you, as though the mere fact that youâre still standing here, after all this, after the end of the world, is enough to stir absolute disbelief in him.
âAlright,â he says, after a pause that seems to stretch out longer than it should. âWeâll see.â
He gestures with his head, motioning for you to follow him into the metro. You hesitate for only a heartbeat before stepping forward. The air inside is cooler, the shadows deeper in the few flickering candle lights, and for a moment, you think you can almost breathe easier.
âWait here,â he says, nodding towards a bench half-buried in dust. âThereâs a process. Need to fill out a form.â
You blink. A form? The absurdity of it almost makes you laughâalmost. But youâre too tired for laughter, too worn down by the world to even consider the possibility of joy. So, instead, you sit with an exhausted plop. You watch as he disappears for a moment, hear the soft scrape of papers being shuffled, and then heâs back, clipboard in hand, a pencil poised like a weapon in his grip.
He doesnât sit down. Just stands there, towering over you, his presence impressive but not oppressive. You glance up at him, and thereâs something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel exposedânot in a dangerous way, but in a way that makes you feel seen for the first time in a long time. Itâs unsettling.
He clears his throat, eyes flicking to the clipboard. âName?â
You give it to him. He writes it down, slow and thoughtful.
âAge?â
Again, youâre honest, coughing right after. He writes again, his eyes lifting to your face between each question as if checking to see if youâre lying, or maybe just to remind himself that youâre real.
âWhere did you come from?â
You answer, though the place you once called home feels distant, like something from a dream you canât quite remember. His pen scratches the paper, and you almost lose yourself in the sound of it, that soft, repetitive scrape, the only noise in the otherwise still part of the metro.
âAny medical conditions? Injuries?â
You shake your head, your body numb to the aches and pains that have become part of you, the exhaustion thatâs settled into your bones as permanent as the sorrow for the destroyed outside world.
He writes.
The questions continue. And all the while, his eyes keep returning to you, scanning your face as if heâs trying to commit every line, every shadow, to memory. You can feel his gaze lingering on your skin, not in a way that makes you want to shrink or hide, but in a way that makes you want to ask why heâs looking at you like that, why his lips keep twitching into something that almost resembles a smile, sometimes a pout.Â
After what feels like an eternity, he finishes writing, his pen stilling against the paper. You think heâs done, that maybe this bizarre interaction will end and youâll be allowed to rest, to sleep, to breathe for just a moment.
But then he clears his throat again. And this time, when he looks at you, thereâs something different in his eyes. Something you canât quite place.
âThereâs one more thing,â he says, and the air between you feels too much like outside, chocking and not fit for you.Â
You stiffen. You feel that old familiar dread curling up inside your chest again, clawing at your ribs. Youâve been at this stage before, the formality of it, the false promises of security, of kindness. The moment where it all comes crashing down, where the mask slips and youâre left standing there, alone and defenceless against the greed, the hunger that always lurks just beneath the surface of those too desperate to remember what it means to be human.
He sees the shift in you. You know he does. You see it in the way his brow furrows, the way he toys with his lip piercings as though heâs searching for the right words, something to say that wonât make you bolt for the hermetic door. He takes a breath, and for a moment, you think you might run, you think you might grab your mask and take your chances with the toxic air outside because anythingâanythingâmight be better than this.
But then, he speaks.
âIââ His voice falters, and you see the muscles in his throat work as he swallows. His grip on the clipboard tightens, the knuckles going white. âI want to⊠I want to eat you out.â
The words hit you like a shockwave. You blink, stunned, and for a moment, youâre not sure you heard him correctly. Did he really justâ?Â
You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to process the absurdity of it, the strangeness, the unexpectedness.
Heâs looking at you now, eyes wide, almost pleading. Thereâs no threat in his posture, no demand. Just⊠want. Raw and unfiltered. Like heâs asking for something he shouldnât even be allowed to ask, but he canât help himself. His breath is shallow, and you can see the way his hands tremble slightly, the tension in his body like heâs bracing for you to reject him, to walk away.
And maybe you should. Maybe you should get up, leave this place, leave him behind, leave all of this strangeness and vulnerability and run back into the wasteland where at least the dangers are known, where the air is poison but the intentions are clear. But instead, you sit there, frozen in place, your mind spinning, your heart pounding in your chest as you look at him.
Heâs not like the others. That much you know.
Heâs so painfully handsome, a rare sight in this broken world, and itâs been so longâtoo longâsince youâve felt the heat of another body, since before the fallout turned everything to pure survival.Â
So, when the chance arises, when you catch the hunger in his dark eyes and feel the thrumming ache in your own bones, you seize it like a lifeline in the endless wasteland. Your fingers tremble as you pull the zip of your protective suit down, the rough fabric parting like a sigh, and you free your legs, peeling it off your lower half. You shift on the bench, boots still clinging to your feet as you raise them to rest beside you, and open yourself to him, your legs spread wide, exposing your cunt like a silent offering, need pulsing through your veins.
Jungkook barely hesitates. The clipboard thrown, clattering to the ground behind him, forgotten, his focus now laser-sharp on the sight before him, his eyes flickering wildly between your face and the growing wetness glistening between your thighs. He steps forward with a pull that feels almost sacred, falling heavily to his knees as if the ground beneath him is the only place he belongs. His warm, calloused hands trace their way up your bare legs, the roughness of his skin sparking something primal under your own.
He leans in close, close enough that you can feel his breath ghosting over your slick skin. He takes a deep breath, inhaling you, and the word falls from his lips like a prayer, âFuck,â and then heâs there, tongue pressing into you with a hunger thatâs suffocating, lapping at your cunt as if heâs desperate to prove himself worthy of it, as if he knows exactly how lucky he is to be granted this wish.Â
A moan escapes your throat, unbidden, as his tongue forces its way into the tight heat of your hole, your hand reaching instinctively for his dark hair, fingers threading through the strands as you push your hips into his eager mouth. The sound that rumbles from deep within his chest vibrates against you, a groan of raw pleasure that seems to send waves of newfound pleasure coursing through your body, arousal dripping from you, coating his tongue.
âTaste so good,â he rasps between breaths, his voice rough and broken with want. âFucking angel sent from heaven.â His gaze flicks upward, catching yours, his eyes wide with disbelief, adoration simmering beneath the surface despite the fact that youâre strangers, despite the fact that the world outside has crumbled to nothing.
You find yourself moving against him, riding the flat of his tongue, his fingers dancing over your clit in a rhythm that feels almost divine. His other hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing into your flesh with a kind of desperation, as though heâs terrified that if he lets go, youâll disappear, that this will vanish like a dream.
âYes,â you cry out, breathless and shaking, as he finds the perfect pace, the perfect pressure, his mouth and hands working together with an almost agonising precision. And neither of you can tear your eyes away from the other, locked in this frantic, desperate exchange of need and lust and something deeper you canât yet name.
He gives you everythingâevery ounce of affection and euphoria youâve been deprived of for monthsâand you can feel it in the way his own body trembles, the way his hips move mindlessly against nothing, rutting into the air as though heâs just as desperate to be filled with pleasure as you are.
âIâm close,â you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair, pulling him harder against you, urging him on, desperate for more, for him to push you over that edge.
And he listens, his tongue working with relentless skill, circling your clit with a pressure so precise it almost drives you mad, and then you feel itâyour orgasm tearing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, shockwaves rippling through your body as you squirt onto his tongue, something youâve never done before, the surprise of it lost in the haze of pleasure. Jungkook groans beneath you, greedily lapping up everything you give him, cleaning you with his mouth like he never wants to stop, his hips stuttering forward as he spills into his pants, caught in his own silent climax.
âFuckâŠâ he moans thickly and long, collapsing against your stomach as your legs tremble and fall to the floor, muscles too weak to hold them up any longer.
For a long moment, neither of you moves, the silence between you filled only by the sound of your ragged breathing, the disaster of the world momentarily forgotten. But eventually, he pulls himself together, straightening up with a sheepish grin, adjusting his pants which are now damp with his own release, his expression cringing just slightly.
You quickly dress again, pulling your suit back into place, feeling a flush of heat creeping into your cheeks. Thereâs an embarrassment there, sure, but not disgustânot even close. If anything, thereâs a strange sense of satisfaction, of relief, and you catch yourself hoping this wonât be the last time you see him, that he isnât bored now that his hunger has been sated.
But as you reach for your pack, Jungkookâs voice breaks through the quiet, and he gestures for you to follow him deeper into the metro, his arm draping casually around your shoulders as if he canât quite bring himself to stop touching you. âIâm Jungkook, by the way,â he says, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes bright with something that looks almost like joyâsomething you havenât seen in anyone since the fallout. âYou can stay with me if you want.â
Thereâs a pause, your heart skipping a beat at his offer, and you hesitate only for a second before whispering, âIâd like to stay with you, if thatâs okay.â
He beams down at you, stars shining in his dark eyes like you havenât seen in months, and he takes the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. âGood,â he says softly. âIâd like that too.â
PART 2
#prompt game#anon ask#ari answers#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts army#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook imagine#jjk x reader#jungkook#bts smut#Jungkook fluff#bts fluff#Jungkook smut#jungkook yandere#yandere#dark romance#Jungkook dark romance#Jungkook apocalypse#apocalypse#apocalypse!AU#bts apocalypse
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Hellooo, hope u r doing good , I rly like ur work like it's all amazing âĄ
Can I request Loki having a friend who is a mortal -female reader- but she is a mutant who can take up body energy -like Rogue in X-Men- and that's why she was always alone till her and Loki met and she defends him infront of the avengers, and he falls for her slowly ig đ
-smut or fluff as u want-
Ik it's kinda lame, if u can't write it's alright
In all cases, thanks for the amazing writings â„ïž
You Can't Hurt Me
Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)
Summary: You are finally going on a solo mission as an Avenger, or at least you were supposed to. At the last minute, the team decides to send Loki with you which is something neither of you are happy about. After an accident in the field, you come in contact with Loki and the two of you realize your ability to absorb someone's life force, memories and powers doesn't work on him.
Warnings: arguing, swearing, feeling alone, pushing others away, minor injuries, plane crash, Loki being an ass to everyone including you - fluff in the end of course
A/N: I'm so sorry it took me forever to get to this ask. I'm finally going through my requests and I thought this idea was awesome! I tweaked it just a little cause my brain kept going in different directions but I really hope that's okay. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! đ
"Are you freaking kidding me?" you ask in an annoyed tone as you get up from your seat in Steve's office.
Before Steve can reply Loki stands and adds, "I have never agreed with a mortal before but I am afraid I must in this case."
You glare at him and cross your arms. He could agree with you without being an ass about it, you think angrily.
Steve sighs and rubs his temples. "Look Y/N, I know you were supposed to go on this mission alone," he says and you nod dramatically, "But Fury, Tony and I decided Loki's skills would be useful on this mission."
"Then let me borrow his powers," you look at Loki and begin to pull off one of your gloves.
"If you touch me-" he threatens as a dagger appears in his hand with a green flourish. You put your glove back on slowly but you smile to yourself knowing you made the god nervous.
"Stop it, both of you!" Steve says loudly, slamming his hand on the desk. You and Loki both sit immediately on the chairs opposite Steve, you suddenly feel as if you are at the principal's office. He clears his throat and calms himself before he continues, "So far teamwork is not something either of you have excelled at. If you both want to remain on this team," he emphasizes the word, "you will go on this mission together."
"This is absurd," Loki argues and you roll your eyes but agree with him.
"What's absurd is the fact that neither of you are willing to work with anyone," Steve counters. "You are here because you have both been written up for splitting off from the team when we have explicitly ordered you not to."
"You know I'm better off alone," you tell him holding up a gloved hand. "The X-Men never had an issue with me going on solo missions or handling things on my own."
"You are welcome to return to the mutants," Loki offers with a smirk.
"Loki, seriously?" Steve says with an exasperated sigh but the god just shrugs.
"Y/N, just because you can't physically touch anyone doesn't mean you can use it as an excuse to avoid being near people or working with them forever," Steve says turning his attention to you.
"Yes it does," you mumble and sulk down in your chair with your arms crossed.
"And you," he ignores your comment and turns to Loki, "you are still on probation. If you want to remain here, and not be sent back to Asgard, you need to act like a member of this team."
Before either of you can say anything else, he gets up and says, "If you can't work with each other, neither of you will last much longer here. You're dismissed."
You snap your gum and click to the next page of the book you are reading on your tablet. Loki sits across from you with his nose in a book as the autopilot guides the jet towards your destination. You pop your gum again and Loki groans in annoyance. A smirk spreads across your lips, you would feel guilty about bothering him but he spent the morning calling you 'human' so you pop it loudly a third time.
"Will you stop that," he hisses, looking up from his book.
"It's an old habit," you make an excuse and shrug.
"It is an exceptionally annoying habit," he corrects you.
You hold eye contact with the God of Mischief and pop your gum in response. He practically growls as he closes his book but his words are cut off by a warning alarm blaring throughout the jet.
"What the hell is that?" you ask, getting up from your seat.
"I have no idea," he admits as he follows you to the cockpit of the jet.
The plane shakes violently and you almost lose your footing, Loki instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hand grabbing your clothed arm. You nod quickly to acknowledge the gesture and the two of you reach the control panel. A series of red lights blink frantically and your heart races as you try to decipher what is wrong but neither of you knows how to operate the jet.
You flip the switch to contact the base, "Tony what the hell is going on up here?" You know the panic is evident in your voice.
The only response you and Loki get is the crackle of static then suddenly one of the two engines goes terrifyingly silent.
You blink your eyes open slowly, your head pounds and your whole body aches. The smell of smoke and fire fill the air and your eyes sting. You try to sit up and hear someone talking but you can barely make out their words over the ringing in your ears.
"Y/N," Loki says again, shaking your shoulder lightly to get your attention. "Are you alright?" His lip is split and he is covered in dirt. His eyes are full of concern as he kneels over you, not something you are used to from the God of Mischief.
"Yea," you answer him quietly as he leans back a bit so you can sit up straighter, "I think so." You look around in awe at the torn and broken remains of the jet scattered throughout the field, unsure how you are both alive.
"I've radioed the team, they should be here in less than an hour," he informs you in a calm voice.
He rubs your shoulder in a soothing manner and you close your eyes as a breeze blows dust around you both. You shiver a bit and realize your jacket was torn during the crash, panic floods through you when you notice how much of your skin is exposed. Loki's hand gently rests on the bare skin on your shoulder and you pull away from him quickly.
"Don't touch me," you warn him and he backs away from you, his hands up in front of him. "You can't touch me, I'll hurt you," you remind him, trying to cover your skin with as much of left over material as you can. You try to get up to put distance between you and the god but you can't put weight on your left leg, it buckles under you and you fall back to the ground. You look down and see clean gauze wrapped tightly around your calf, your pant leg torn open from whatever caused your injury.
You look down in shock then look up at Loki. "How did you do this?" you ask, noticing the blood on his hands.
He shakes his head, "I don't know. I wasn't thinking, I just needed to stop the bleeding."
"I need to talk to you," he says unphased by your attitude which makes you nervous. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened after the crash." He rubs his hands nervously as if your blood is still on them.
That night you lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. When you first climbed into bed, you worried the memories of the crash would prevent you from sleeping but it was the moments after that kept replaying in your mind. Closing your eyes, you can almost still feel Loki's warm hand resting gently on your skin. You roll over, pulling the sheets tightly around yourself when to hear a knock at your door. You sit up and check the clock next to your bed, it's just after midnight.
You limp carefully to the door and open it, unsure who you expect to see. "What do you want?" you ask Loki, easily returning to how you typically treat each other.
You take a step back to let him into your room. You feel anxious knowing he is the first member of the team you've ever invited into your private space. Loki takes a seat on your couch as you pick up your hoodie that is hanging by the door.
"I think I know why I could touch you without your powers affecting me," he says and you look up at him, pausing as you zip your hoodie.
You shake your head and take your gloves out of the pockets. "Strange said it was most likely because I was unconscious," you remind him.
"I don't think your powers work on me," he says after a few moments of silence pass between you both.
"You and I both know that's not true," he keeps his eyes on you as you slip on one glove then the other.
You sit at the far end of the couch, afraid that he is wrong about whatever his theory is. He is right about one thing though, Strange's reasoning didn't explain why Loki was able to touch the skin on your shoulder after you woke up. You had done everything you could since you arrived back home to not think about how that was possible, you were terrified that it was some sort of fluke and would never happen again.
"They work on your brother," you remind him. You had grabbed the older prince by the wrist for only a few seconds during a training session two months ago. You were unable to contain his lightning abilities and fried all the computers in the lab. Thor spent the next four hours unconscious in the med bay. "Being a god doesn't make you special," you tell him in a harsher tone then you mean to.
"Thor and I are not..." he sighs. "We are not the same. You know we are not true brothers?" he asks and you shake your head. "Thor is an Asgardian and although I look like one, I am not."
"So whatever you are is why you think I can touch you?" you ask.
"It is hard to explain," he tells you. "I am from Jotunheim, realm of the frost giants. This is not my true form. I use an illusion to alter my appearance as Odin did before I knew the truth." You can tell by his tone that this is not a story he is used to sharing with others.
You take off your gloves and look at your own hand, remembering the pain and heartache even a light touch has caused to others around you. "Are you sure you want to risk this for me Loki?" you ask. "If you're wrong... I could seriously hurt you."
You listen quietly as he explains how he was taken as a baby and brought up on a series of lies. He rubs his hands nervously as he talks and never makes eye contact with you, staring at the ground as he speaks. When he finishes he lifts his hand and looks at it as he wiggles his fingers slowly, a green glow emanates from his fingertips and flows down his hand. As his magic travels, his skin slowly turns a deep shade a blue, thin ridges form intricate spirals on the back of his hand.
"This is just a well crafted illusion," he says as the glow retracts and the blue fades away.
"If I'm right... you might not need to be so alone," he counters gently.
"I... I don't believe this," you smile. Tears of joy and relief gather as you slowly look up at Loki.
He holds his hand towards you, palm up waiting patiently for you to move. Slowly, you reach you hand out, your heart pounding in your chest. Your fingertips lightly touch his fingertips and you hold your breath as you wait for the pain to spread through both of you but nothing happens. Your eyes lock on your hands as you slide your fingers towards his open palm. You still don't feel anything as you rest your palm on his, your fingers settling on his wrist.
He closes his fingers around your hand and you let out a laugh in shock and disbelief. There is no pain, no burning on your skin or in his veins as his memories are pulled from him or his powers are absorbed. Just his warm, soft skin against yours, a feeling you had almost forgotten.
"You can't hurt me," he says when your eyes met.
"I can't hurt you," you repeat. He raises his other hand to wipe away one of your tears as it travels down your cheek. The simple gesture draws even more tears. It has been so many years since you have been able to feel another person, you can barely hold yourself together. You get up suddenly and walk away from him.
"I'm sorry," he says as he stands.
"It's not... you didn't do anything wrong," you assure him as you wipe your face then wrap your arms around yourself. "It's been almost ten years since I've touched someone I wasn't trying to harm. When I gained my powers, I severed my connection to everyone I've ever loved or cared about. My family, my friends, my coworkers. I left all of them."
He listens to you quietly, not moving closer.
"I'm terrified of hurting the people I care about, that's why I left the X-Men. I was there for eight years and I was becoming too close to everyone. I was constantly afraid someone would try to hug me or give me a high five or just bump into me in the hall. I had to leave and when I came here..." you look down, ashamed of how you acted. "I avoided everyone and antagonized you on purpose so no one would want to be friends with me. I thought it would be easier, safer if no one ever wanted to be near me."
"I understand," he says and you look up as he takes a few steps towards you. "I have my own experience building walls to keep everyone out, even my brother. My reason for keeping the others away is far less noble than yours. You push people away to keep them safe while I push them away to keep myself safe."
"I have been lied to and betrayed by my family my whole life," he reminds you of your conversation only minutes ago. "If I never let anyone in, if I never care about anyone, then they can never hurt me. It's why I've been so rude and condescending to everyone on the team, including you," he admits.
You are quiet for a moment, you know exactly what you want but you are afraid he will turn down your request. "Can I..." you pause and he gives you an encouraging smile. "Can I have a hug?"
"I'm sorry for how I treated you," he tells you honestly. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"I'm afraid I am not very good at hugs," he says and when you look at the ground he adds, "But I can give it a try, for you."
You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face as you move towards him. He puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around him, your hands settle on his back and your cheek rests against his chest. He is stiff in your arms but after a second, he seems to relax and lowers his cheek to rest on the top of your head.
You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat, his breathing slows and you feel as if all the tension is leaving your body. After a moment you mumble something against his chest and he chuckles.
"I have no idea what you said," he tells you.
You lift your head and look up at him. "This is the first hug I've had in close to ten years," you repeat.
He touches your cheek gently and says, "That is truly a shame because you give wonderful hugs." You giggle and blush then he adds, "This is the best hug I have had in a very, very long time and I do not plan on letting go any time soon."
I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did đđ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!
@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @im-briana-stan @foxherder @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-ofthe-pages @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing
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HOLD ME CLOSE
genre. comfort. warnings. reader had a really bad day (unspecified reason). pairing. best friend!anton x fem!reader. wc. 417. request. no. a/n. kinda wrote this randomly like 2 nights ago i think?? it's rly short and im not sure if it's any good but it's here anyway lol
âCan I hug you?â
You had just gotten back home from possibly the worst night of your entire life, and seeing your roommate in the kitchen in his pyjamas and hoodie pulled over his head made your heart clench in your chest. The question slipped out before you had time to think about what you were about to say to your best friend who youâd never had any amount of prolonged skinship with in your entire 4 years of knowing him (though not for a lack of wanting to).
Anton was silent for a second, slightly shocked by your question, and still holding a spoon in his hand from his long empty bowl of cereal. His brain couldnât exactly process your question before his eyes flitted to your face and he was nodding quickly. He probably wouldâve interrogated you or even teased you about it given how unusual it was, but you looked like you desperately needed to be held tightly, and all Anton cared about suddenly was making sure you were okay.Â
You were glad he didnât say anything, because you probably wouldâve burst into tears if he had. You werenât ready to talk about why you felt so awfulâ all you craved for was silent comfort. Relief flooded through you as soon as Anton wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you close to his chest.
You closed your eyes and hugged him back, focusing on evening your breath to his in order to calm down. The right side of your face rested over his heart, and you could hear it beating steadily, maybe a tiny bit faster than usual, but you didnât focus on it.Â
You werenât sure how long you stayed like that. It felt so comfortable, so right, in his arms that time seemed to slow. It felt like even breathing too loudly would completely break the moment, so Anton worked extremely hard to keep his breath soft.
He wasnât sure what or who had made your night turn sour, but he was determined to be there to make it better; not just now, but in the future as well. He hadnât realized it before, but as he held you close in his arms, noticing how perfectly you fit in them, as if you were made for it, he realized you had been the only one in his heart for some time. And he hoped you would be the last person he held, and the last to fill every corner of his heart.
âł riize taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,, @seolboba,,
@blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @evalevaeva,, @lecheugo,, @wccycc,,
@seunghancore,, @planetkiimchi
#ficsăăâË°#k-labels#anton#anton lee#riize#riize anton#riize anton lee#lee chanyoung#riize lee chanyoung#riize chanyoung#riize fic#riize fluff#riize fanfic#anton fluff#anton fic#anton fanfic#anton x reader#riize x reader#riize anton x reader#riize headcanons#riize imagines#lee chanyoung x reader#chanyoung x reader#riize chanyoung x reader
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Dirty Little Secret
ê„ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader
ê„ Warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - This chapter-rough sex, pregnancy kink, oral fem and male recieving, excessive mentions of cum, Toji is a freaky ass mf, spanking, more freaky shit, that's what this fic rly is.
ê„ Word Count-this chap- 6.6k
ê„ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.
Chapter 10 - Masterlist - Playlist
Chapter 11
âIâm on the shot! How!?â You are panicking, your heart racing in your chest as you stare at the two lines on the test Toji ran to get. How can this be real, how can you not have noticedâŠ
âHoly shit.â He huffs, still playing with your tits, and you scowl, smacking at his big hands then. âSorry, doll⊠theyâre so great for stress.â
âToji, this is serious.â
âIâm dead ass serious.â Toji brushes your hair back gently, and your eyes flutter shut for a moment at how good it feels. âFrom when do you think, doll? The hotel? Or⊠was it on Spring break⊠because thatâd make youâŠâ
âFuck, that would be three months, no way. Shit. I sometimes donât get a period on the shot for months, and with all the stress of everything I didnât notice, so I am not sure. Ugh.â
âSo I fuck through birth control?â He smirks as he talks, making you even angrier, your blood pressure rising.
âThis isnât funny. Did they even have birth control when Megumi was born, old man?â
He glares at you now, his eyes dark in the bathroom, jaw locking. âDoll youâre really acting like we didnât have birth control in the early 2000's?â
âI figured you were born in the fifties, so-â
âThatâs it.â Toji lifts you up by your arms, turning you to face the mirror, pushing you over the sink. âImma beat your ass again.â
âYou canât, Iâm pregnant!â You giggle then, however, grabbing a toothbrush and toothpaste, catching his eyes and grin in the mirror. âYouâre so cocky, you are happy you did this shit.â
âDamn right I am.â He wraps an arm around your waist, hand pressing your tummy gently, and you suck in a breath, seeing him so big behind you, around you, as he rests a chin on your shoulder. âI told ya I wanted to put a baby in ya. Gonna be so sexy when youâre all round.â
âNo, Iâll look so gross, ugh!â You brush your teeth viciously, rinsing then, drying your mouth with the back of your hand to turn and face him, back pressed against the counter. âBabe, this is insane. Should we do this?â
He cups your face then, bending low and holding you so close. âItâs up to you, doll, but fuck⊠I hope you want to. I really do.â Heâs choked up then, that rare emotion filling his eyes, making his voice gruff.
âOh, TojiâŠâ You cup his face gently then, as both of your hearts are pounding in your chests.
âI know I fucked up with MegumiâŠâ
âDonâtâŠâ
âNo, listen to me.â He presses his forehead against yours, as his big hands splay your body, gripping so tight like he never wants to let go. âI know I wasnât shit for the kid back then. I know it, donât defend it because you love me.â
âYou were a baby, Toji. Younger than me!â You feel emotions hit hard, stuck in your throat as he pulls back a bit with a sharp intake of his breath, and you see his dark green eyes watery, breaking your damn heart.
âItâs no excuse for not being around. I am lucky he wanted a relationship when he got older, but I fucking swear to you, if I get another chance to be a dad, Iâll do it right. Iâll do right by both of you, I promise I will, doll.â Your tears are streaming down your cheeks at his hoarse confession, you feel his hands trembling, and you swipe away two errant little tears.
Toji Fushiguro is strong, heâs rough and brazen, heâs so tough and such a big man, he holds so much in. With nasty humor, with quips, making shit a joke, but now heâs looking at you with such devotion, as he holds you so close, your tummy pressed against his. Your toothpaste on your breath is mingling with the coffee on his as you both press so close, gazing at each other.
You know then, that you want this, that you want to have his baby, fuck itâs insane and youâll be like twenty two and and a momma⊠yet, you want it with every fiber of your being. As you see this care, this love, this hope, as you feel his hand gently atop your flat tummy, as you both picture it round, as you picture a life with him.
âI know I am not the most⊠sweet man.â You giggle through your tears, but heâs still very serious. âBut I swear to you this, a little girl or boy, Iâll be the best dad I can be, Iâll do everything to take care of you all, Iâll make sure of it. If I get a chance to have a beautiful little girl, who looks like you, or a little shithead boy like me.â
âOh⊠fuck.â Youâre sobbing now, you canât help it, not when you hear the desperation in his voice, when you feel his lips on your forehead, so oddly sweet and so different. You feel his love and need radiating as you cling to his bare arms, feeling his entire body tense.
âI canât ask you to do this if you donât want, and Iâll love you no matter your decision, but fuck⊠I canât lie. I want so bad to have babies with you, to make a family, to do this shit right. Please, Doll, give me a shot?â He finishes then, hand brushing back your hair gently, and you smile tremulously up at him.
âOf course I want this baby. Thereâs no question, none at all. Itâs insane, and my dad will kill you, Megumi will also kill you⊠people will say shit. But I donât care, not one bit, because I want this.â You put a shaky little hand over his big one, and watch him break down then, slamming his lips on yours, as your saliva mixes with both of your tears that fall.
âI love you so fuckinâ much doll.â He pulls back to whisper, his handsome face in a big grin now, and you canât stop your smile. âIâve never been more happy in my stupid, worthless fuckinâ life.â
âItâs not worthless, youâre not worthless Toji.â
âI was, doll. But I wonât be, not this time, I swear Iâll do everything right. I may fuck some shit up at times, but-â
âStop that.â He pauses, taking a breath now. âI know youâll be a good father, I know youâll take care of me. I believe in you.â
Toji looks away, covering his face then. âYou little brat, always making me cry like a lil bitch.â
You smile, damn near choking on emotion, turning his face back to you, your thumb brushes on that scar you love so much. âIâm gonna be a mommy, do you think Iâll be a good one? I donât even know! Iâm so nervous.â
He picks you up in his arms with ease, sitting you on the cold marble counter of the sink then, bending down and sliding your shirt up, kissing your tummy. Your sobs just get more intense at the beauty of the moment, as your hands run through his black silky hair.
âI know youâll be the best, look how deeply you love an idiot like me.â He kisses your tummy again and again, big hands taking over your thighs, making you tremble, as you pull him back up.
âIâm scared but I want this. I do. I want to be a mommy. I want a life with you, I want to not be afraid to show ourselves, to just beâŠâ
âTogether.â he finishes, and you nod at that, as he kisses your lips so softly, so different from his rough, brutal kisses.
âTogether.â
âHow the fuck am I so lucky? I swear Iâll make sure you never regret-â
âToji Fushiguro, I will never regret anything about me and you. Not you being my first, not having this baby, not anything. Got it, old man?â
He moans then, kissing you so deeply, and you both fall into each other, as the kisses get more intense, as his hands slide up to grip your breasts, so sensitive you scream damn near at his rough hands. He pulls back to look at you, hunger in those dark green pools, his black lashes low over them, lidded with desire.
âImagine these with milk in âem, hmm Ma?â He whispers, pinching your nipples and filling you with insane images, you feel your cheeks flush as he sucks a nipple in his hungry mouth, and your back arches, head slamming against the mirror, as his thick fingers rub you over your silky Hello Kitty shorts.
âMnh⊠gonna be a Daddy again, huh?â You whisper back, earning a groan that vibrates against the soft skin of your tits, and heâs rubbing your clit over your shorts, pressing the silky material between your lips, making you soak the material.
âI am gonna be a Daddy, and youâre gonna be a Mommy.â You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip when he presses up, and youâre leaning back to yank on your waistband, earning his chuckle. âSo eager, slutty brat.â
âShut up old man, and fuck me.â He scowls, earning your giggle, only for him to yank down your shorts, pulling you down and bending you over the counter, smacking your ass so hard you yelp. âHey!â
âGotta smack you while I can, fuckin brat.â He smacks you again, where youâre already sore and bruised, only earning you getting stupid wet. âOld man knocked you the fuck up, didnât he.â
âHe did. Mmm! PleaseâŠâ He smacks you again, and pulls your hair then, you are biting your lip so hard it hurts, that pussy throbbing for him without even being fully touched.
âAddress me the right way, damned brat.â
âPlease fuck me, Daddy.â He moans then, sliding two fingers in your little cunt, they pulse around him instantly, you hear the loud squishy sounds in the room, and you catch his gaze in the mirror. His lips are parted, his eyes full of desire as they look at your face, glazed with lust.
âYouâre so goddamn pretty, arenât you, my doll.â He cooes then, pressing closer against you as his fingers work up and down, and heâs got the other hand on your throat, under your chin. âLook at that pretty lil face, all fucked out, begging for more. You want Daddyâs cock, don't ya.â
âI want it, please, please.â Your eyes shut at how good it feels, riding his hand eagerly, the rough pads of his fingertips pressing on that spongy spot as your slick little walls soak him, squeeze him. Heâs squeezing more, tilting your chin up, so fucking huge behind you, taking over your little body.
âBeg for this cock, like a good girl fâme. You can do it, baby.â He whispers, putting that perfect pressure on your pulse point, as everything gets fuzzy, and even in the mirror you see it shaking, as he makes you dizzy.
âPlease, put your cock in me Daddy, lemme cum all over it. Iâm so wet for you, canât you feel?â You arch your ass back, earning his loud groan, then his fingers slide out and you watch him suck them off with a moan, before he slides those gray sweats down and his cock presses on your entrance. âY-yes, please⊠pleaseâŠâ
âIâll give ya anything doll, anything you ask for like that.â He lifts you up, your legs dangling off the counter as he shoves his thick cock in then, and your pussy struggles to adjust, no matter how much you fuck Tojiâs cock always takes work to handle. He uses one hand to grab your hip now, fucking into you as your hands cling to the smooth counter.
Youâre dripping down Tojiâs length as both his hands hold your hips, youâre suspended over this counter, helpless, as he rails your pussy so good. Your breath fogs up the mirror as he presses you forward with every stroke, your hand on it now, bracing yourself for his thrusts, as his eyes drink you in the reflection, growing smoky with every heavy breath.
âYouâre so tight, fuckâŠâ He moans then, easing out of you and making you whine out at the loss.
âToji! Back in!â
âImpatient lil brat, hush.â He pulls you down then, turning you around and picking you up in his arms, kissing you deeply, carrying you to his room, laying your back on the soft bed, which creaks under his weight as he lays on you. âGotta be a little more gentle with you now.â
âNo you donât⊠mmm⊠not yet.â He chuckles then, white teeth stark against his tanned skin, lighting his face up. You sigh as you study him. âMy Daddy is so handsome, you know?â
âMmm, and my doll is beautiful. Most beautiful thing Iâve ever fuckinâ seen. So pretty just fâme.â His kisses down your throat make you gasp as he slides back in, and your eyes roll back, with the pleasure of that stretch. He moans, hands taking over your waist, as your thighs wrap his hips, your heels pressing into his strong lower back.
You whimper when his hips snap, and that tip kisses your bruised cervix, head falling to the side, eyes fluttering shut. Heâs kissing your throat as he fucks into you, lazy, slow strokes, sucking hard on your delicate skin. Your hands are clinging to his chest, feeling his steady heart under your palm, muscles contracting around his thick cock as he fucks you so good.
You can barely catch a breath as you see sweat dripping down his brow, as your eyes struggle to stay focused at how good heâs making you feel, as you hear the smacks of skin and your slick wetness loud in his quiet room, just the fan whirling above you. He slows even more, bracing a hand on the bed and the other hand cups your face, thumb pressing on your lower lip.
Toji just stares then, his mouth open ever so slightly, his eyes emotional, lashes trembling as his lids lower, and heâs slowly pressing in, making your back arch, making you gasp, your hands sliding down his taut muscles, the sides of his rib cage. Your nails press into his back as you roll your hips up, watching pleasure contort his face, which leans down low.
Heâs right there, his heavy weight pressed against your aching breasts, your sore little nipples against a hot, hard chest. Your eyes lock, noses almost touching, as he rolls those hips again, hitting that spot inside you that makes you black out, and youâre convulsing around his length, his hand now sliding down your soft tummy, which trembles at the touch.
âDaddyâŠâ You whisper, and he moans, slamming his lips again, before taking a breath and leaning back up.
âYouâre too fuckin gorgeous, fuck. Killinâ me doll. Just looking at you, like I canât even breathe.â Youâre tearing up again, and he sighs. âEven pretty cryinâ like that, yâknow that?â
âFuckâŠâ You pull him back down for a kiss, overwhelmed not just how good his cock feels, but how much you love this man. âYouâre being too sweet, fuck me hard, okay?â
He laughs a bit, shaking his head, kissing your forehead again. âCan I not be sweet with ya once? Just once?â
âN-no, youâre nasty Toji, not sweet. Wreck my pussy.â
He laughs again, lifting a thigh and shoving in more, but he doesnât rail you, or fuck you hard, or wreck your pussy, heâs still going achingly slow, now a thumb brushing your clit in teasing circles. Youâre whining, limbs writhing under him, so sensitive, so on edge, your very soul aching for this man, the one whoâs eliciting even more emotions than before at his slow pace.
At how he gazes at you.
At how he touches you.
At the clear love in his eyes.
âCan I not just enjoy my baby momma, huh? And her pretty face, her pretty body, take my time?â He murmurs, and now heâs wrecking your mind, as his slow thrusts start to feel so good, and so intense, along with the stimulation of your clit.
âItâs⊠y-you donât do that, though.â You mumble, making him smirk, so sexy, that scar stretched under his dark stubble, as his thick tip drags along those little gummy walls that are wetter than ever.
âLet me try it once, yeah doll? Made you a Mommy, didnât I?â He whispers, and youâre close then, as he thrusts in fully, pressing into your cervix, and pinching your little twitching clit between his fingers, making you scream out then.
âY-yes, you did, Daddy⊠you did. Ah!â Youâre screaming as you feel it, that pressure hits, and youâre about to burst.
âLemme watch you cum, all over Daddyâs cock. Good girl.â Youâre ended, heâs wrecked your mind, completely, as you shatter around him, cumming so hard you canât see. Youâre floating somewhere, before you return back to see Toji studying you, his perfect muscles tense as he does. âThatâs it, lemme feel you doll, lemme feel.â
âDaddy!â You cry out, clinging to him as your orgasm washes over you, and heâs kissing you, groaning into your eager mouth, fucking quicker now, just a little rougher, fucking you into another orgasm. Youâre crying out into his lips, nails digging into his skin, making him hiss, jaw tightening.
âYouâre so fuckinâ perfect fâme, doll. Just mine.â
âJust y-yours.â
He moans, and now he flips you, until youâre on top of him, and you brace yourself on his strong chest, palms under his collarbone, rolling your hips, head falling back. Your hair falls like a curtain down your back as Tojiâs huge hands glide up your body, your tummy, your waist, settling there and urging you, lifting you up and down his long cock.
âDaddy⊠mmm!â Youâre whimpering as you bounce up and down his cock, as Toji watches your eager cunt suck him in, your lips all puffy from being fucked so good last night. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, and he groans as your cunt keeps sucking him in so goddamn good.
Fuck you look so beautiful, his eyes hit your pretty face, all flushed from your exertions, tears leaving streaks on your cheeks, and your eyes look at him, cock drunk and fucked out. Youâre so fucking sexy he canât take it, sensitive as your muscles squeeze him, as your thighs tense around him, and youâre close again, he can feel you, he can feel it.
âNeed me to help you, doll?â He murmurs, and you nod weakly, as he brings you forward, letting your rest on his chest, your breasts, so full, pressing on it, nipples tight and hard on his skin. Toji grips the fat of your hips, thumbs pressing into your pelvis now, placing his feet on the mattress. âHang on to me, Ma.â
You eagerly listen, youâre not running your bratty mouth right now, though he loves your attitude, you just cling to him with your little hands, your eyes looking into his so lovingly, your lashes casting shadows on your cute little face. He thrusts up in and watches your head fall back, your mouth slack open, brows knitting as he fucks your cervix how you like.
âWant it hard now, doll?â He whispers, and you nod, your hair falling against his chest, so silky, as your pussy clenches around him.
Youâre having his fucking baby, itâs so insane for Toji to think, that soon youâll be so round with him, and heâs fucked a baby into you. He canât wait to watch that glow youâll get, canât wait to see cute little stretchies on your perfect skin, see your tits get even bigger, dripping milk.
All the thoughts make Toji fuck you harder.
âDaddy!â You whine out, lips all pouty, and heâs ended, fuck heâll do anything for his little doll.
âThatâs it doll, cum all down me, make me fucking messy, sloppy lil cunt can do it canât she?â You nod eagerly, and Toji fucks you harder now, as youâre looking right into those eyes, as his hands now grip your ass, dragging you down so hard you scream, and he rocks you against him, until your orgasm runs through you.
Your entire body lights up after you cum all over him, sticky and hot down his toned stomach, his thick muscled thighs, as youâre clinging to that strong neck, screaming out. âDaddy! F-fuck!â
âGood girl.â He whispers in that gruff voice, pulling you down again on his cock, and youâre weakly laying against him now, spent already, every touch making you jerk and twitch, every stroke having you drool. âThatâs it, fucked your brains out, huh lil Mama?â
His words make it worse, you just weakly nod, clinging to him then. âWant your cum in me, please, please.â
He groans louder now, kissing you deeply, fucking up into you as you lay so useless on him, you canât move or do a goddamn thing but cry out loudly as he pummels into your pussy. Sheâs squeezing around him as his lips devour you, messy and hungry, spit dripping out of your mouths, tongues swirling at the tip, his hands gripping your ass so tight as he bucks up.
âSheâs milking me, so slutty, already knocked up yâknow.â He huffs, and you canât even speak, not when heâs fucking you so good. âReady for all this, can ya take it all for me, Ma?â
âI can, I can, promise. Please.â You beg so pathetic, and he smirks at it, making you glare. âJust cum in me, fuck.â
âPathetic-â
âDo it.â
âBratty-â
âCum in me, fuck! Want it, want it.â He kisses you then, shutting the fuck up for a moment, before heâs pouring so much cum itâs ridiculous, more than youâve felt, and Toji comes a lot. Youâre so warm you cum again just from feeling all that hot white seed pouring, coating your cunt. âOh my God.â
âOh my⊠fuck!â He whispers with you, as heâs pumping slowly, and his cum is dripping down his length, along with your wetness, messy as fuck, drooling down Tojiâs tight balls as they relax and contract, pumping more and more. âFuck⊠pussy is so perfect all fâme.â
âMmm⊠all for you. Itâs all for you.â You mumble, as he eases out of you then, and you lean back weakly, looking at his cock, thick and veiny, covered in all the remnants of cum that slipped out. âFuck thatâs sexy.â
âYou like all that mess you make?â He strokes your hair as you kiss down his chest, pussy clenching around nothing with the aftershocks of him. You nod then, hair falling along his skin, making hom brush it back, holding it like a pony tail now.
âYouâre the messy one, Daddy. Look at all this.â You click your tongue, looking teasingly up at him now, your fingers sliding down his cock to his balls, fingering the sticky mess. He moans, hips arching, and you smile then up at him. âShould I clean you up Daddy?â
âOnly if I get to clean you after.â You grin, nodding, then you slide your tongue down his length then, bracing yourself on the bed as you taste your sweetness and his saltiness, mixing so yummy on your tongue, watching him, his perfect body. His handsome face contorted in pleasure.
âMmm, we do taste yummy, donât we?â You whisper, and youâre holding his cock now, still hard, sucking it down your throat, as he jerks at the sensations. You lean down, licking the cum off his balls, cupping them, and heâs hissing at that, pulling at your hair now. âWhat?â
âFucking sensitive, brat.â You giggle at that, earning his angry glare.
âToji has no one sucked on these?â
âAnd have you!?â
âNo! But youâre a hoe.â
âWell youâre the freakiest fuck Iâve had.â You giggle again, stroking his sticky cock, sucking it, cheeks hollowing. âSlutty lil girl.â
âMmm.â You just moan against him as heâs pulling your hair so good, cupping your face with his other hand, watching his eight pack tense up, making every muscle more defined for your hungry eyes. Youâre taking him all in, breathing through your nose, feeling his tip thicken, stretching in your throat.
âFuck, doll⊠youâre so good at that, goddamn⊠f-fuck, stop that.â Youâre lavishing his balls again, making him yank you up.
âYou like it! Is nasty Toji afraid of something!?â
âIt makes me wanna bust, stop it.â You suck on them again as you stroke his cock in little wet twists, his precum already pouring out of his tip, and his moans fill the room, along with the sounds of your sucking and licking. âYou fuckin brat, get up here right now.â
You finally suck his cock again, licking the underside and watching that hunger on his face. âIs Daddy too sensitive?â
âFuck you, brat.â You grin, licking his tip and sucking that white pearl of precum on that reddened tip, and he damn near whimpers, fascinating you, only for you to be flipped on your back.
âI was having fun, mean Daddy.â You glare, and he glares right back, kissing himself right off you, one elbow resting on the bed as he runs a finger along your lower lip.
âWho knew youâd be such an annoying, freaky lil slut?â
âMe!? You!â
He smirks then, kissing you, before shoving you up the bed, kissing down your breasts, sucking on your nipples again. Your hands cling to the blankets as he fingers the sticky mess you both have made, between puffy sore lips, youâre twitching just like he was as he kisses down your tummy now, grabbing your hips as he settles between your thighs.
âGonna clean you up now, lil Mama. Yeah?â You nod eagerly, as he pushes your thighs even further apart.
âPlease, clean me up. S-so messy- ah!â Heâs lavishing your cunt with his hot, wet tongue then, slipping right up your slit, and heâs parting your folds, watching his cum ooze out of your little hole, moaning.
âLook at all this cum you took, just slipping outta this little cunt, mmm.â Heâs moaning then, licking it right out of you, scooping all his cum out with his practiced tongue, and youâre screaming at how good it feels.
It damn near hurts, youâre so oversensitive, as you feel his teeth on your lips, his tongue in your hole, his straight nose bumping your clit. Youâre clinging to his hair, shoving his face deeper, feeling his moans vibrate your sensitive pussy, as his big hands squeeze your thighs bruisingly, and youâre close again.
âCumming, cumming!â You cry out, and he looks at you under thick black brows, his hair falling in front of his brows as he fucks you with that long tongue, relentless strokes, and youâre spasming around him now. âAh!â
You scream as you cum so goddamn hard, hurting as your pussy is clenching around the invasion of his tongue, all while he keeps moaning, making you a goddamn mess. He pulls back, face soaked and sticky, lifting your ass up then, swiping his tongue along that little hole heâd fucked last night, still so sore you cry out, before sliding back up your cunt again, all the way to your clit.
âSensitive!â You whine out now, earning his chuckle, and a shake of his head, as he flicks his tongue on your clit again.
âNow you canât handle it, huh brat?â You pout all cute, he thinks, but heâs still gonna have to teach you a lesson.
You do love learning from him.
âLetâs try something.â You tense then, blinking, for Toji is freaky as hell and you never know what that mindâs up to. Then he angles two of his fingers in your cunt as he slides a thumb from his other hand in your ass, and you cry out at it.
âF-fuck, ow, shit! Ah!â Youâre a mess now, as he smirks over you, and youâre trying to hold a glare as he works your holes so goddamn good, watching you shiver and twitch and jerk. Youâre soaking him everywhere, as your cum and the last bits of his own are pouring down Tojiâs fingers.
âKnew it, so slutty. Gotta be filled so much just to shut your mouth.â You yank on his hair then, pulling him down and he winces at the pull.
âFuck you, Old man.â You whisper, biting his lip, and he scowls, shoving fingers deep everywhere, making you so full you canât take it, itâs too much.
âFuck me, huh? After I was so sweet with ya, youâre such a lil bitch. Maybe having my baby will calm you down.â
âWill not, fuck!â Youâre cumming again, proving his point, but you love it, you love when youâre throbbing around him, when he sucks you off his fingers again. âDaddy⊠canât cum anymore.â
âNo, doll, you can.â He keeps fingering you, scissoring the two fingers your cunt sucks up, then pressing that thumb deep in your ass, until youâre cumming so hard youâre a mess again, and he then shoves your thighs up high, pressing them against your breasts.
âMating press⊠Iâm⊠pregnant, fuckingâŠâ
âGotta do it while I can, doll, ya wonât bend like this soon.â Tojiâs deep in your sore cunt, making you cry, and heâs leaning on the backs of your thighs, his weight so heavy as he cups your face. âHow many loads can you take, Ma, huh?â
âOne more. One more.â
âGood, good girl.â Heâs fucking you so good you canât take it, every stroke stinging your sore little hole, but you crave it, you love it, being smushed as he hits so deep. His balls slap on your hole, as his thrusts get brutal, as he leans up, angling his hips just so, and youâre screaming as another orgasm makes you weak. âFucking you stupid.â
âSh-shut up⊠old man⊠ah! Fuck you!â
âFuck me, huh? Nah. Fuck you pretty lil doll.â Heâs spread your thighs wider now, hand on your throat, and you eagerly cling to his arm as heâs hitting it so goddamn hard, as the bed is creaking, as the headboard smacks against the wooden wall. He moans as he squeezes you tighter. âShut that mouth so easily.â
âMmmâŠâ Is all you manage to squeak out, as he rails your cunt so good, until heâs busting again, filling you more and more, as he releases you and you try to come to reality. Then heâs kissing you gently, holding you in his arms, and you cling to him, weak and boneless, so shaky. âTojiâŠâ
âToo rough doll? We canât go rough soon.â
âOh stop, Iâm good. We have a long way for that.â You brush back his sweaty hair as you both catch your breath, as heâs running his big hand up and down your body, making goosebumps rise everywhere. âI am scared, Toji.â
He eases out carefully, pulling you to lay on your side, holding you as you rest on his strong bicep, brushing your hair back in careful strokes. âI wonât fuck it up, I swear I wonât leave you, I wonât. I will do right by you.â
âNo, not that. Oh god, no I know that.â He gulps, as you hear that pain again in his voice, you feel it.
âI canât forgive myself for being a fucking idiot, but I am different now.â
âI know.â You kiss his chin, where that little cleft is, feeling his stubble tickle your soft lips. âIâm scared of⊠telling dad.â
âShit.â He sighs then, as you both caress each other, a tangle of limbs in the quiet room. âShitâŠ. Fuck⊠shit.â
âYes, eloquent man. Shit fuck shit.â
âBrat.â
You both snort then, as you snuggle to him, burying your head against the crook of his neck, pecking little kisses. âWe have to tell him you know.â
âTell my kid to remember who I was.â
âOh stop!â You shove at him playfully, but his brows are drawn low, as he studies you. âWhat is it?â
âI donât wanna ruin your life.â
âYou wonât, you couldnât. Iâll finish my school and then⊠you know what, a baby wonât stop journalism. Nope. She can sit on my lap as I work.â
He grins then, love so pure in his forest eyes, as they look everywhere on your face. âYeah? A lil girl you think?â
You nod. âI do. A sweet little girl. Youâll be wrapped around her finger, youâll spoil her wonât you?â
âDamn right I will, Iâll give her anything, and say âdonât tell momâ.â You both laugh at that, as your heart clenches. âThank you for this.â
âFor getting pregnant?â
âFor giving me a chance I donât deserve.â You kiss him again, shaking your head, as heâs gripping your body so tight you can barely breathe, clinging to you.
âYou deserve it. You do.â You pull away, taking shaky breaths then. âItâs not what I planned, but you know⊠I think I couldnât be happier. I will not clean your house though.â
âThe fuck, why not!?â
âIâll do dishes and laundry. Thatâs it.â
âThatâs it? Then no pussy eating.â
âHey!â Heâs chuckling as you playfully smack at him, wrapping your thigh around his hips, kissing down your neck. âFine I will also sweep and mop.â
âThere we go, weâre already compromising.â He hums as he kisses down your collar bone, as you stroke his back gently. âIâll cook half the time.â
âIâm good with that, I like to cook. Mmm⊠TojiâŠâ
âYeah, doll.â
âThis is acting as if youâll survive.â He sighs, resting his head on your chest, squeezing on your breasts like theyâre his stress balls, making you smirk.
âIâm scared we also gotta tell Megumi youâre his step mom.â You gasp, shaking your head.
âWhat? Weâre not married, old man.â
He glares up at you. âWe will get married.â
You lean up then in shock. âWhat, old fashioned ass man!?â
âImma beat your ass so hard.â
âDonât Iâm sore!â You pout, but heâs dead serious with his anger. âShit⊠Toji you donât wanna marry for real do you?â
âOf course I do, and will, youâre gonna have my kid, we gotta get married. I need you as my wife and baby mama.â You blink a bit, sucking in a breath.
âIs this some proposal!?â
âYou keep ignoring my proposals.â
âWell theyâre all shit. Ow!â He smacks the fuck out of your ass now, making you wince. âSorry⊠theyâre not that good.â
âIâm not good at this shit.â He nips your collar bone now, before looking at you a little more soft now. âDo you not wanna marry me?â
âI mean⊠of course I do, dumb man.â
âThis mouthâŠâ
âBut like this is assuming you survive. Youâll have to ask my dad for my hand in marriage.â You say with a big grin, and Toji buries his face again, grimacing, as you laugh softly. âItâs like a video game, main quest.â
âStupid brat, this isnât some Zelda game.â
âItâs even harder.â
âShut it.â He leans up on an elbow now, shaking his head as he plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, and you melt into it, heart fluttering with excitement. âFine, if he gives me permission youâll marry me, and soon. Before the baby comes.â
Your tummy clenches, as the stress of telling your dad looms, but it mixes with the thoughts of spending your life with him, in this cabin he lives in, that heâs built so much of. Being Tojiâs little wife was never, ever in your plans, but something shoves that last shred of feminism far away, and you dream of that domestic bliss that you could have with your gruff old man.
âYou really think heâll do it?â You ask, and he sighs.
âFuck no. Iâm gonna get killed. But Iâll try, for you. Besides, heâs gonna be a grandpa you know.â Toji grins, and you gasp.
âYouâre the worst! Oh fuck heâs gonna kill us both.â You slam your eyes shut, smacking your forehead. âMy only hope is to plead with him, and maybe heâll forgive us, and wanna spend time with the baby.â
âHe wonât be mad at you. Just me.â
You sigh again. âWhen should we call?â
âNah, doll, Iâm a man. Weâre gonna have to go face to face.â
Shit.
*****
The drive to your dad's place feels like it takes an eternity as you and Toji have made the trek a few days later. The doctor had confirmed you are indeed pregnant, about three months, which means Toji had indeed gotten you pregnant during Spring break, and though you both were so fucking happy, this was looming over you both, to actually tell Shiu.
 You donât know if you can handle the disappointment heâll have with you, though Toji says it will only be anger geared at him. But you donât want your dad angry at him, you love Toji, and you hate having to choose one or the other. You wonder at what exactly youâll say, you keep practicing as you both sit in the car in awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
When you finally pull up, Toji squeezes your hand reassuringly. âDoll, itâll be fine, I can take hits.â You snort at that, tensing then as you see the shadow of your dad walking across the kitchen window. Shit. "Ready?"
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. "As ready as I'll ever be."
With that, you get out of the car and walk up to the front door, hand in hand with Toji. His grip is firm, giving you the courage you need for what's about to come, but itâs terrifying, not knowing how heâll take this. As you stand on the doorstep, you feel his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, and you look up at him, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.
After the longest moment of your damn life, the door swings open, and there's your dad, Shiu Kong looking at you both with a mix of surprise and curiosity, before he sees Toji. His mouth is dropped open, as he glares between the both of you, and your joined hands, and his coffee cup heâd been holding crushes against his big hand, the pieces shattering to the floor.
âDad⊠Dad calm down, I-â The words are barely out of your mouth when he lunges at Toji, his fist flying through the air. Toji's eyes widen in shock, but he doesn't flinch, bracing himself for the impact as you desperately try to pull on him. âDad, fucking stop! Donât!â
Shiu looks at you sadly, shaking his head, before scowling at Toji. âWhat the fuck are you doing with her!? Are you trying to ruin her goddamn life? Iâll fucking kill you Toji if you touched her again.â
Toji sighs, muscles tense, waiting for your dad to wail on him at any given moment. âYou wanna tell him, doll, or should I?â
âDonât call her doll, fucking pervert! Tell me what!?â He looks at you then, and you take a shaky breath, putting a hand on your tummy, looking down.
Then it all connects, Shiu looks at your hand there, and his brown eyes widen in horror. âNo, no⊠donât tell me-â
âDad, Iâm pregnant.â You say then, and in a blink of an eye he lunges, before you can stop him, and punches your baby daddy/fiance!?... Toji. Right in the damn face, you donât know how he stays standing. âDad, stop!â
âYou got her pregnant!? Toji Fushiguro, youâre fucking dead!â
Well⊠fuck.
Chapter 12
#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x reader#toji fushiguro#jjk men#toji x you#toji smut#jjk toji#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushigro x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#daddy toji
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the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)
masterlist | ao3
Pairing:Â Tsukishima Kei x Reader
Summary: Kei has a cynical and jaded outlook on love. When his friend Tadashi figures out that Kei has feelings for you, Kei isnât sure how to react. After all, love is not something he does but rather, something that happens to him.
"Thereâs a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that canât be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.
He thinks that might be whatâs happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. Itâs like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. Itâs uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. Kei is nearly certain that youâre the reason."
Content Warnings:Â fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns), no real manga spoilers, slow burn, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of divorce and broken homes, toxic relationship (kei's parents), smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pinching, mentions of mark making, overstimulation (m!receiving), multiple orgasms, hair-pulling
Word Count:Â 24.8k
A/N:Â i know i spent forever working on this but it's finally done and while i have a lot of thoughts about it, idk rly what to say. anyway, here's my first attempt at a tsukishima long fic. also i already know that im not beating the tsukkiyama allegations, okay? i tried and failed to beat them okay i just think there is no way to put them in a situation without it being a little homoerotic bc.. they r them okay? anyway, i hope u enjoy and would love to hear ur thoughts <3
The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks heâs read that somewhere, though heâs just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be.Â
Keiâs room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesnât think it feels half as romantic as it sounds.Â
The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and heâs never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different.Â
He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all.Â
Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. Theyâd miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth arenât too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course.Â
Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesnât wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isnât until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky.Â
Keiâs room is clean and neat. Thereâs no clutter, no collection of items that donât have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks heâd discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. Itâs a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day.Â
Yamaguchiâs room is different. Itâs lived in and well worn. Thereâs clutter on the floor, socks and pants heâd taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things donât have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as heâd picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchiâs room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after theyâre long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashiâs presence.Â
To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, heâs earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when heâs in his own spaces. Not that he minds it.Â
Tadashiâs dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend.Â
As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. Heâs sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, theyâre intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other.Â
Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but theyâre clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is heâs trying to craft.Â
He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. Itâs easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural.Â
By the time he arrives at the library, itâs nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. Itâs almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesnât go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesnât approach people, they often wonât approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out.Â
From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental.Â
Strictly speaking, youâre Tadashiâs friend, not his. Youâve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? Weâre graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, itâs impermanent.Â
Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that heâs devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on.Â
Itâs probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei canât really help it. He canât change what he is. Besides, itâs not as if he doesnât have a reason to think so. Heâs often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think heâs tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. Heâs not heartless, so heâs been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that youâve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility.Â
âThought you might be here,â someoneâs hand lands on his shoulder.Â
âShit,â he groans, âis it that late already?âÂ
Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. Heâs been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasnât gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand.Â
âSpacing out?âÂ
âA little,â Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book.Â
âGot something due?âÂ
âYeah, on Friday,â he exhales. âHavenât started it yet though. You?âÂ
âNah,â Tadashi smiles. âIâm just chasing you around.âÂ
âYouâre like a girl with a crush.âÂ
Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. Itâs a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend.Â
Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly whatâs on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment.Â
Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because heâs seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei canât read his handwriting because itâs terrible and he doesnât much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friendâs hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you.Â
Youâve got your head down and look like youâre falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that youâve spotted him staring, itâs too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little.Â
You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you donât bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him.Â
âHi, Tsukishima,â you smile. âHi, Tadashi.âÂ
You use his friendâs given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest.Â
âHow long have you been here? I didnât see you,â you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei.Â
âI just got here,â Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. âHeâs been here for a while though.âÂ
Tadashi motions towards him.Â
âAw, why didnât you say hi?âÂ
âYou seemed busy,â Kei lies.Â
You pout, filling your mouth with air. âNext time just come say hi, âkay?âÂ
âSure,â Kei nods.Â
Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. Heâs not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever.Â
Kei doesnât like the way you make him feel. When youâre around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless.Â
You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like itâs been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? Itâs entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack.Â
You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something heâs written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks heâs having.Â
The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesnât know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe itâs both.Â
âCrap, is that the time?â Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. âIâve got class across campus in 10 minutes.âÂ
He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder.Â
âBye, ___,â he says in a rushed whisper. âIâll see you at home, Kei!âÂ
âSure,â is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook.Â
Itâs quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture youâre listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Keiâs notebook to get his attention.Â
Itâs only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face.Â
When he looks up, youâre looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him.Â
âYou donât like me very much, do you?â You ask gently. It doesnât sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness.Â
âHuh?â Blood rushes into his ears.Â
âI just kinda get the impression that youâre uncomfortable around me,â you say. âAm I wrong?âÂ
âUh, no- itâs not that I donât like you.âÂ
Heâs quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks.Â
âThen what?â you question lightly. Thereâs no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy.Â
âI dunno,â he calms himself a little. âI donât really know how to act around you, I guess.âÂ
You laugh, leaning back into your chair. âIs that all?âÂ
âWell, yeahâŠâ he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. âYouâre Tadashiâs friend and Iâm pretty different from him so I justâŠâ He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.
âI was worried you hated me,â you smile, chuckling to yourself.Â
âThatâs definitely not it,â he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily.Â
âIâm your friend too, ya know?âÂ
âThat so?âÂ
âWell, yeah,â you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. âI just kinda figured that we would be.âÂ
âFriends?â His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward.Â
âDuh,â you laugh a little. âYou know, you donât have to speak formally with me.âÂ
âThatâs just the way I am,â he huffs at being read.Â
âWell, you can drop them with me. I donât mind.âÂ
âTall order,â he snorts.Â
You tilt your head to the side. âDid you just make a joke?âÂ
âUh, yeahâŠâÂ
âFunny,â you smile. âWhat are you studying?âÂ
âItâs not really studyingâŠâ he says, glancing down at the near empty document. âIâm supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.âÂ
He looks up at you through his lashes. Youâre leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at whatâs on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better.Â
âBaroque art?â You read aloud. âOh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that youâre an art history major. Do you draw too?âÂ
âNo,â he scoffs. âIâm hopeless at it, but I like art. Itâs nice to look at.âÂ
âHuh, you look like youâd be good at drawing,â you say.Â
âWhatâs that mean?âÂ
âI dunno, like a manga author or something,â you shrug. âYouâve got nice hands too. Like an artist.âÂ
âManga?â He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment.Â
âYeah, you look like the manga type.âÂ
âIs it the glasses?â He raises an eyebrow.Â
âMaybe,â you laugh.Â
Kei looks down at his hands. Theyâre big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. Heâs hyper-aware of them now that youâve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. Theyâre trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashiâs. Tadashiâs fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his.Â
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Thereâs a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. Itâs only a bit bigger than his fistâa little thing, reallyâand itâs completely blank. Keiâs never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. Itâs got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. Itâs malleable, but not so flimsy that heâd need a desk to write in it.Â
Keiâs not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. Itâs practical, much like he is. Heâs considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isnât much of a list guy, itâs Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. Heâs considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesnât think thereâs anything worth writing about.Â
No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that canât be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.Â
He thinks that might be whatâs happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. Itâs like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. Itâs uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever.Â
Kei is nearly certain that youâre the reason, not that heâs about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didnât really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must.Â
People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, thatâs how it seems. Heâs always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that theyâre really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what heâs feeling rather quickly. Heâs not too sure why that is, maybe heâs just obvious and hasnât realized it.Â
Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, heâd been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldnât even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, heâd simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldnât even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression.Â
To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like heâll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat.Â
Tadashi knows this about him and if it werenât for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. Itâs nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he canât keep a secret to save his life.Â
Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. Heâs always known that heâs had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesnât need to be told that heâs smug to know that he is. Heâs snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. Itâs not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like itâs been worse.Â
Maybe itâs because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. Itâs not because he doesnât think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesnât find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, itâs easier to get on his nerves.Â
Heâs dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. Heâs not sure why he does. Sometimes itâs because he thinks theyâre pretty, other times itâs because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has.Â
Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. Heâs too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like itâs ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings.Â
If heâs being honest, itâs given him a twisted inferiority complex. Heâs worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, heâs not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that heâs just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy.Â
Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. Heâs just a little awkward. Thatâs all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. Itâs a peeve of Keiâs.Â
Tadashi isnât like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that heâd ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashiâs not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him.Â
Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that heâs had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isnât exactly sure what would have become of him.Â
Itâs pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better wonât automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Keiâs learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you.Â
Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesnât think it would have any effect on the fact that heâs definitely developed a crush. Heâs positive it will go away. In fact, heâs not even sure if itâs real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way heâs jealous of Tadashi. Youâre bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe thatâs why the two of you get along so well.Â
In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, heâd have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesnât have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesnât have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesnât want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesnât have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory.Â
âÂ
Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesnât like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that heâs touchy, that heâs awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesnât mean that he has to acknowledge it.Â
Youâve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe youâre more comfortable now knowing that he doesnât hate you, so youâre happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment.Â
Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person heâs ever done that for is Tadashi.Â
He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition heâs yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesnât want you to hate him. He thinks heâd die if you hated him. Keiâs being brave in his own way. Itâs little, but heâs doing it.Â
As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when youâre not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. Thatâs a lot for Kei to think about.Â
Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him.Â
Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, youâll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that heâs not wildly nervous at your proximity. Youâre so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. Youâre a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is.Â
His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that heâs actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You donât seem to think that heâs anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesnât want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like heâs reversed whatâs been done to him his whole life, like somehow heâs only become your friend because he wants something more.Â
Truth is though, he doesnât want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesnât want his crush to develop any further. He doesnât want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesnât feel anything at all for you. Â
âHey, are you okay?â You tilt your head at him.Â
âHuh? Me?â He questions. âYeah, Iâm fine.âÂ
âYou seem a little distracted,â you smile. âYouâve been staring at your computer for like⊠10 minutes with this blank look on your face.âÂ
âYouâve been staring at me for 10 minutes?â He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that.Â
âNot staring at you,â you huff, âbut I definitely noticed.âÂ
âHa, creep,â he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose.Â
âYouâre twisted, you know?âÂ
âWhatever,â he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work.Â
Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinataâs height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that heâs so twisted. Heâs been hearing that sort of thing his entire life.Â
âHey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?â You ask a few moments later.Â
âOh, yeah sure. I donât mind,â he nods, hiding his disappointment. âI didnât realize that we had like⊠set times to be here.âÂ
You laugh lightly. âWell, we donât, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.âÂ
Kei envies your honesty. Youâre so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things.Â
âYouâll be home on Friday night, right?âÂ
âUhm, yeah? Why?âÂ
âTadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?âÂ
âI think he mentioned it.â Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days.Â
âGood, Iâll see you, right?âÂ
âYeah, you will.âÂ
âGreat, talk to you later then!â You smile and with that, you walk away.Â
You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei canât help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards.Â
Kei canât tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. Itâs probably both. Itâs probably some mix of the two that he canât quite sort out. He wishes it werenât that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined.Â
So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell theyâre a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. Thatâs something you havenât done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous.Â
It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, youâre you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense.Â
Turns out, itâs easier to pretend that he doesnât feel anything when he thinks youâre interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering.Â
â
Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, itâs overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up.Â
Itâs not like youâll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and thatâs close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when youâre here, heâll be wondering if thereâs something else that he missed beyond the closed door and heâll think about it incessantly.Â
Heâs been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. Itâs not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that itâs stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that heâs creepy because of it?Â
He doesnât get to be upset over the idea that youâre seeing someone else. Why wouldnât you be? Keiâs done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesnât hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one.Â
Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesnât want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. Itâs not your fault, nor is it the person Keiâs convinced himself youâre seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it canât be himself.Â
The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. Heâd never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. Heâs afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him.Â
Keiâs got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesnât quite like you at all. Itâs not your fault. Heâs just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. Heâs confused. Heâs jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. Thatâs all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like heâs being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking.Â
Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. Heâs forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over.Â
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Heâs not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, thatâs a lunaticâs idea.Â
Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashiâs shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him.Â
Kei doesnât want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze.Â
âIs there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?â Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Keiâs feet and roll around before settling.Â
âWhat are you talking about? I was normal,â he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips.Â
âBullshit,â Tadashi says. âYou were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and youâve been one to me all day.âÂ
Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, âIâve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? Youâre closer to all of them than I am.â
âWhat? Youâre tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?âÂ
âNo,â Kei responds.Â
âSo then what was that?âÂ
Kei doesnât really know. He doesnât know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. Itâs true, heâd been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why heâd acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. Heâd sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it.Â
Itâs not as if heâd been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesnât want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst.Â
It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Keiâd been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously.Â
Itâs no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight.Â
Youâd been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, heâs endlessly embarrassed. You didnât deserve that. Youâd been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that heâd learned later that evening that wasnât even true.Â
Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship.Â
You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. Itâs an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when heâs in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at.Â
For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise heâd gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying.Â
Heâd picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Keiâs not proud of it, but heâd be lying if he said he hadnât done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up.Â
Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions heâd rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, itâs cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanakaâs voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei canât help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could.Â
Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts.Â
âI thought you liked them, dude,â his voice is even, letting up on the anger.Â
âWho?â Kei plays dumb.Â
Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. âI thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?âÂ
âNothing happened,â Kei says. Itâs the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own.Â
âWhy did you ignore them then?âÂ
âI didnât ignore them,â Kei says. Again, itâs not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldnât ignore you if he tried, itâs sort of the whole problem heâs dealing with now.Â
âMaybe, but you were cold. Like⊠needlessly.âÂ
âI was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,â Kei spits.Â
âThatâs the problem though, isnât it? I know you and I know that shit wasnât normal. Youâre twisted, but youâre not an outright asshole, Kei. Whatâs going on?âÂ
âI was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didnât bounce around or get rowdy, doesnât mean that something is wrong,â Kei answers.Â
âYeah, but you were like⊠majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Donât you like them? Donât you want to be nice to them?âÂ
âI donât.âÂ
âYou donât want to be nice to them?â Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes.Â
âNo, not that. I donât like them like that anymore,â Kei lies.Â
âOh please, thatâs such horseshit,â Tadashi laughs bitterly.Â
âGet off my ass, Tadashi. I donât fucking feel that way about them anymore,â Kei insists.Â
âDid something happen?âÂ
âNo, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just donât like them,â Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesnât deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight.Â
Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it.Â
âJesus, Kei, youâve got to stop doing this shit,â Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead.Â
âDoing what?âÂ
âGetting all in your head about every single connection youâve ever had with a person,â Tadashi raises his voice.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?âÂ
âIt means Iâve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!âÂ
âI donât do that!âÂ
âYes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!â Tadashi exhales.Â
âIâve never done that deliberately! What does someone elseâs actions have to do with me?âÂ
âIt doesnât have to do with you,â Tadashi says, âIt has to do with your parents.âÂ
The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open.Â
âIâm right, arenât I?â Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. âNot every relationship is like your parentsâ, Kei.âÂ
Tadashi knows heâs stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadnât registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashiâs usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty.Â
âShit-â Tadashi starts towards him. âKei, Iâm sorry I didnât mean that. Iâm just pissed off I didnât mean to-âÂ
Kei pushes past him. âTadashi, I know you mean well, but donât try to tell me about my fucking parents.âÂ
Tadashi doesnât try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.
â
Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it.Â
He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Keiâs lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames heâd swept from the floor.Â
Keiâs parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each otherâs throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well.Â
Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy.Â
His parents got married at 19, thinking that theyâd be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, thatâs what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom.Â
They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his fatherâs marital âsolutionâ in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place.Â
Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. Theyâd make digs, do things to get under the otherâs skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person theyâd decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price.Â
They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that itâs not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Keiâs father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because.Â
It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. Thatâs just the way it goes.Â
The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers.Â
Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories theyâd decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house.Â
He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him.Â
âAre mom and dad gonna get divorced?â Kei had asked through sniffles.Â
âDivorced? No, no,â Akiteru answered. âItâs just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.âÂ
âItâs normal?â Kei sniffled.Â
Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadnât.Â
âYeah, itâs normal.âÂ
Normal. Kei realizes that he doesnât exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things heâs picked up from watching them. Some role models they were.Â
He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that heâd been an asshole tonight. Heâll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that heâd acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, heâs his parentsâ son alright.Â
Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. Itâs a clear night, but he canât see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. Itâs a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise.Â
âKei,â a familiar voice calls from in front of him.Â
Youâre a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you.Â
âThought you went home,â he says.Â
âYeah well, I had intended to,â you start, âbut you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?âÂ
Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but youâre the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner.Â
âAre you okay?âÂ
âIâm fine,â Kei answers automatically.Â
âJust decided on some fresh air?â You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose.Â
âYup, thatâs exactly it.âÂ
You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesnât make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.Â
Strangely, tonight he doesnât feel nervous. Maybe itâs because he doesnât have the energy to. Maybe heâs too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when youâre around. Maybe itâs because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. Itâs a small hope, but itâs there.Â
âHey,â your voice comes quietly, âI donât know whatâs going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, Iâm a pretty good ear.âÂ
Kei nods a little.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says, âabout tonight.âÂ
âI didnât come here for an apology, you know?â You exhale a little.Â
âYeah, but you deserve one,â he says. âI was pretty shitty to you.âÂ
âYeah, you were,â you agree, catching Kei off guard, âbut it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just canât keep them inside, you know?âÂ
âYeah,â he agrees, swallowing down his shame.Â
Thereâs another long silence. You donât move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence.Â
âI fought with Tadashi,â Kei says after a few minutes.Â
âToday?âÂ
âYeah, tonight. After everyone left,â he says. âI deserved it though. Iâve been pretty shitty to him all day.âÂ
You hum, leaning back on your hands.Â
âI did the same shit in high school too, you know?â Kei starts. âWeâve uhm- weâve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.âÂ
Kei isnât sure why heâs telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage.Â
âYou bullied him?â You ask, a little surprised.Â
Kei shakes his head. âNo, but I wasnât very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,â he admits, a little defeated.Â
âDid you ever apologize?âÂ
Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity.Â
âFor what you did in school?âÂ
He nods. âCountless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.âÂ
âYou know, stuff like this happens,â you say. âWhen I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. Iâd hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and Iâd get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.âÂ
Kei laughs. Itâs strikingly similar to whatâs happening now, not that youâd have any way of knowing.Â
âI canât imagine you doing that,â he says.Â
âIâm serious,â you say. âI still get weird over it sometimes.âÂ
Kei shakes his head a little, smiling.Â
âAll that Iâm saying is that sometimes we slip up, thatâs all. Itâs normal,â you continue. âNot that Iâm condoning it. Just saying that it doesnât make you a horrible person. It makes you human.âÂ
âThanks,â he says softly.Â
âNo problem,â you respond.Â
âSo whyâd you fight with him tonight?âÂ
âHe was angry with me because I was an asshole,â Kei shrugs.
âAnd youâre mad that he called you out?â You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh.Â
Kei shakes his head. âNo, Iâm angry about what he said after.âÂ
âWhatâd he say?âÂ
Kei debates on telling you. He doesnât want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that.Â
âThe argument kind of switched subjects,â Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. âHe brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.âÂ
âOkay,â you say, waiting for him to say more.Â
âRemember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?â When you nod, Kei continues. âMy parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.âÂ
You nod again, your eyes wide.Â
âHe didnât mean any harm, I know that,â Kei inhales. âBut uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, itâs stuck with me and I didnât like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. Iâm not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.âÂ
âSure,â you say. âIâm sorry about your parents.âÂ
Kei shrugs. âItâs in the past. Theyâre both remarried now with new kids.âÂ
The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesnât think they have any business having more children. Maybe theyâre capable of being good for them, but Kei doesnât like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasnât the problem, but he and Akiteru were.Â
âYou say that like they got a new pet,â you smile a little. âAre you still in touch with them?âÂ
âYeah,â he says. âI visit whenever I go back home, though theyâre really not too far from here.âÂ
âThatâs good of you.âÂ
âWell, they are my parents,â Kei says plainly.Â
Youâre the only other person heâs divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. Itâs like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate.Â
âYeah, but youâre allowed to feel what you feel about it,â you say. âMy mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. Iâm still angry at her for it.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â he says.Â
You shrug and offer him a wry smile. âItâs in the past, but Iâm still angry even though I shouldnât be.âÂ
âAt her?âÂ
âYeah,â you nod. âShe made a stupid mistake that weâre constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.âÂ
Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei canât imagine what heâd do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still canât think about a world where he doesnât visit home to have his motherâs cooking. Thatâs a world that you live in.Â
âThatâs hard.â Itâs all Kei can think to offer.Â
âIt was,â you say. âGot easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.â
Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and heâs been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose.Â
âAnyway, about tonight,â you say, âitâs not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, thatâs what weâre here for. Itâs easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, donât you think?âÂ
âYeah,â Kei says, looking to face you. âThank you.âÂ
Youâre so pretty. Itâs striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, heâs grateful that you showed up. Youâre good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom.Â
âYou should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,â you say, standing up. âPlus,â you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, âyour nose looks like a cherry tomato.â
âRude,â he says, startled by the sudden touch.Â
âPayback,â you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes.Â
âDo you need me to walk you home?â Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own.Â
âIâd love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I donât live very far,â you respond. âIâll call you when I get home though, okay? Since youâre so worried.âÂ
Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. âYeah, I am.âÂ
His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile.Â
âIâll see you on Monday,â you say. âThanks for the apologyâÂ
âAnytime.â
âI hope not,â you laugh and Kei follows suit.Â
You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave.Â
Kei doesnât know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what heâs doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater.Â
âYou can call even if itâs not to tell me you got home safe,â he says. âIf you want to.âÂ
You squeeze him around the middle. âOkay, I will.âÂ
When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.
âThanks for coming back,â he says. âGet home safe.âÂ
âOf course,â you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. âAnd I will.âÂ
Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it.Â
âExpect a call!âÂ
Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.
He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When youâre out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You donât come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation.Â
He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.
âKei, Iâm so sorry, I didnât mean to-âÂ
âDonât worry,â Kei says. âI know. Iâm sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.âÂ
âHigh school?â Tadashi says, confused. âWhy are you bringing up high school?âÂ
âJust wanted to apologize again.âÂ
Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before.Â
âI didnât mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,â Tadashi says. âI was out of line.âÂ
âSo was I,â Kei admits through a tired sigh. âI shouldnât have acted that way. Iâll apologize to the others in the morning.âÂ
Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom.Â
âHey, Kei,â his voice comes out a little louder this time. âYouâre being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?âÂ
Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. âI just had some time to think, thatâs all. And yeah, weâre good.âÂ
âOkay, are you good?âÂ
âYeah, I am,â Kei says.Â
Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision.Â
âBy the way,â Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. âI lied. I do like them.âÂ
âCould have guessed as much,â he responds, laughing a little. âSee you in the morning.âÂ
âYup, see you in the morning.âÂ
Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up.Â
When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling.Â
âHello?âÂ
âHey, I got home safe,â he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines youâre lying the same way he is.Â
âGood, Iâm glad,â he says. âNo trouble?âÂ
âNo trouble at all,â you say. He can hear your smile.Â
âThanks again for coming back tonight,â he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face.Â
âOf course,â you say.
He doesnât know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like youâre whispering directly into his ear.Â
âOkay, well Iâm going to go to bed,â Kei starts.Â
âKei?â you say.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âIâm gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.âÂ
âOkay,â he swallows.Â
âI feel a lot closer to you.â
âYeah, me too.âÂ
âGoodnight, Kei,â you practically whisper.Â
âGoodnight,â he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends.Â
He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. Heâd been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, heâs certain of the opposite.Â
He decides that heâll like you for real this time. Even if heâs afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.
Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger youâd admitted to him and the grace youâd given him in his own circumstances.Â
He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.
â
Keiâs apologies go smoothly. Tadashiâs friendsâhis friendsâare good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands.Â
Heâd explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. Heâs easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei wonât try to tell him otherwise.Â
You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes itâs to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, itâs not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out.Â
There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it.Â
Heâs noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. Heâs noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. Heâs noticed that when youâre studying, youâll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you.Â
Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. Heâs self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that heâs probably the least put together heâs ever been.Â
When youâre around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that heâs that far off from one.Â
Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that heâs able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. Heâs cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it.Â
The coffee shop heâs visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen.Â
Youâd brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei canât help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, youâll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up.Â
Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that heâs hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasnât touched in about 10 minutes. Heâs been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when youâre focused.Â
âYouâd get a lot more done if you stopped staring,â you say, not looking up from your notebook.Â
Kei chokes on his exhale. âWhat?âÂ
You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, youâre pretty.Â
âThe document?â You chuckle. âYouâre not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.âÂ
âOh,â Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. âYeah, just canât seem to focus.âÂ
âWhatâs the paper on?â You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table.Â
âItâs not really a paper,â he says. âItâs a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.âÂ
âIs that the one without the arms?âÂ
âNo, but they come from the same family of statues,â Kei smiles a little.Â
You hum a bit. âDo you like it?âÂ
âLike, do I think the statueâs pretty?â Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. âYeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âWell, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?â He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. âBut this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. Sheâs trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. Itâs meant to be humiliating.âÂ
You tilt your head. âSounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.âÂ
Kei laughs a little. âYeah, I think itâs just a bit more interesting.âÂ
âWhy did you choose to study art history?â You question, leaning forward on your elbows.Â
Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesnât like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him.Â
âProbably because Iâm no good at art,â he smiles a little.Â
âSuch a shame, what with your artistâs hands and all,â you reach across the table and tap his knuckle.Â
Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks.Â
âYouâre no good at art, so you study art history instead?â You press for more.Â
âYeah,â he says. âI like things that people make with their hands. Thereâs a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.âÂ
You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck.Â
âWhy are you studying molecular bio?â He changes the subject.Â
You shrug your shoulders. âI want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.âÂ
Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up.Â
âPlus,â you continue, âI wanted to show off a little bit.âÂ
âSo you put yourself through four years of torture?â He raises an eyebrow.Â
âYup, Iâm a huge masochist,â you grin.Â
âYou STEM kids are unbearable, you know?â Kei snorts.Â
âBut you like me anyway, yeah?âÂ
Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work.Â
Itâs true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether heâs noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment.Â
Thatâs probably why he doesnât want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. Heâs content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldnât do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle heâs waged in his mind over the last few months. Heâs too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept.Â
Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. Youâre easy to like. Itâs easy for him to picture touching you. Itâs easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. Youâre easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei canât do. Itâs not hard to find things to admire.Â
Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like?Â
A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesnât think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesnât mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants.Â
â
Itâs a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. Heâd even venture to say that itâs good.Â
Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, itâll become the most eye-catching thing on the street.Â
Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. Itâs so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches donât look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either.Â
There was a tree like this outside of Keiâs childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. Heâd press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didnât get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same.Â
âThinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?âÂ
He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity.Â
âJesus,â Kei turns, âyou need a bell or something.âÂ
âYouâre the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,â you laugh a little.Â
Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on.Â
âWhereâre you headed?â he questions.Â
âDropping off an assignment,â you smile lightly, âwanna come with me?âÂ
âI canât. Iâve got a class in 15.âÂ
âFifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,â you shrug. âWeâll make it.âÂ
âWe?â Kei raises an eyebrow.Â
âYeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. Itâs a win-win.âÂ
âSounds like Iâm just doing a lot of extra walking,â Kei snorts.Â
âYeah, but you get to do it with me so itâll be more fun.âÂ
Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. Itâs an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesnât like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it.Â
Itâs strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and heâs more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick.Â
The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Keiâs palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this.Â
âHey, about tonight,â you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow.Â
Youâre supposed to come over. Itâs the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that heâd almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âSo, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,â you give him a sheepish grin, âand they may have asked to come and I definitely told them âthe more the merrierâ.âÂ
âOh, yeah?â Keiâs a little disappointed. âSo theyâre coming too?âÂ
âYeah, is that okay?â You furrow your eyebrows.Â
Kei canât very well come out and say that it isnât, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesnât want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesnât mean that he canât indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that heâs âin likeâ.Â
âYeah sure, why wouldnât it be?âÂ
You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely.Â
âI dunno, youâre not really a fan of bigger groups right?âÂ
âNot really,â Kei shrugs, âbut Iâve known them for a while so it doesnât count.âÂ
You nod your head and then smile. âGreat! Now, where is your class?âÂ
âSocial Sciences,â Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. âIn about⊠four minutes.âÂ
âWanna run? Canât be late, can you?âÂ
Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. Youâre faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe heâd been holding it while watching you run.Â
You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction.Â
âHave a good class!â You call.Â
âWhatâs the rush?â he questions.Â
âIâve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.â Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs.Â
Thatâs the thing about you that Kei canât get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than heâs ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isnât food, a feeling Kei hasnât experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger.Â
â
Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight.Â
âSorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,â Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room.Â
âItâs not like that,â Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out.Â
âSure it isnât,â he laughs.Â
âIâm serious dude,â Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him.Â
âYou wanted to hang out with them alone, right?â Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck.Â
âI just said it wasnât like that!âÂ
Tadashi gives an even laugh. âYouâre the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.âÂ
Heat floods Keiâs face, painting it red.Â
âCaught ya,â Tadashi smiles.Â
âWhen the hell are you moving out?â Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh.Â
âNot until you do. Youâre stuck with me.âÂ
âNot if I kill you,â Kei doesnât smile when he says this.Â
Tadashi barks a laugh. âSo what changed?âÂ
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âI mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,â Tadashi says. âNothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.âÂ
âI was kidding before but now Iâm serious. I really will kill you.âÂ
Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesnât say anything, intruding on Keiâs space until he gives an answer.Â
âI just got tired of it, thatâs all,â Kei says evenly, though itâs a little hard to admit.Â
âTired of what?âÂ
âPretending,â he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway.Â
âBecause of them?âÂ
âNo,â he starts. âMaybe. I donât know. Can you leave now?âÂ
Tadashi shakes his head. âToo curious to leave.âÂ
âI donât have an answer for you,â Kei grumbles. âI got tired of pretending I didnât want them.âÂ
âNot like you were very good at pretending,â Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look.Â
He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. âOkay, fine. Iâm gone now.âÂ
âTheyâll be here in an hour or so, by the way,â Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that heâs heard him as he leaves the room.Â
Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. Itâs empty, but Kei likes the look of it.Â
The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that heâs gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. Itâs a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. Heâd not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his fatherâs.Â
He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Keiâs curly hair is somewhat unruly. Itâs hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he canât seem to keep down. Itâs gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond.Â
Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and heâs never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though theyâre only a cheap pair that heâd found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced.Â
He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, heâd stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Twoâs family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that heâs a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original.Â
Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times youâve all piled into his living room.Â
âWhereâs Kei?â He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum.Â
Thatâs why. Itâs because this time, youâve come here to see him specifically. Youâre not here to see Tadashi or by chance, youâre here because youâd made plans to see Kei. Thatâs what makes it different.Â
You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. Youâre smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe itâs because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest.Â
âHi,â you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch.Â
âHey,â he chokes out.Â
Kei chides himself for his nerves. Heâd been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has.Â
Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host.Â
âTanaka and Kiyoko?â Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop.Â
âDate night,â Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. âSo annoying.â
He groans about Kiyoko, someone heâs all but worshiped since high school.Â
âYouâre just mad it isnât you,â Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin.Â
âNot true,â Noya argues. âI am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I canât come. Itâs like I lost a bro.âÂ
âYouâre so overreacting,â Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. âTheyâre here most of the time.âÂ
âYeah, most but not all,â Noya pouts.Â
âGive the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?â Tadashi laughs.Â
Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that heâs gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else.Â
âTheyâre different and you know it,â Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth.Â
You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Keiâs.Â
âWhoâre Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?â You ask softly.Â
âYouâve never met?â Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug.Â
âMaybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.âÂ
âTheyâre friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but theyâre two years older.âÂ
âOkay, so one year older than me?âÂ
Kei blinks a few times. âYouâre a year older than me?âÂ
âYeah?â You laugh a little like itâs obvious.Â
âBut arenât you a fourth year?â He furrows his eyebrows.Â
âI took a year off before starting college,â you shrug your shoulders. âThought that I had to get my sillies out.âÂ
âYour sillies?â Kei laughs a little.Â
âYeah,â you smile, âand I had to save up some money. It makes the world go âround, you know?âÂ
âWhat are you guys whispering about?â Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can.Â
Itâs only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. Heâs tilting his head down to hear you better and youâre leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadnât even realized had crept up on him.Â
âI was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,â you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair.Â
This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans.Â
They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Keiâs more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, itâs still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Keiâs relentless prodding of Kageyamaâs easily pushed buttons.Â
You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene.Â
Still though, despite the fun heâs having, Keiâs battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. Itâs not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it.Â
He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. Theyâre clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldnât have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.
Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei.Â
âDone already?â You lean your hip against the counter.Â
âWith what?â Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body.Â
âHanging out,â you smile lightly.Â
âNot really,â he says. âJust needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.âÂ
âWanna go sit outside for a bit then?âÂ
Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. Heâd hate to be stopped on the way.Â
âRelax,â you laugh. âTheyâre so caught up they wonât even notice that weâre gone.âÂ
Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. Itâs the same place youâd come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then.Â
Itâs a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves.Â
You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response.Â
âSorry again about bringing the troops here,â you speak first.Â
âThatâs really okay,â he says. âContrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.âÂ
You snort. âI hope so.âÂ
Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like heâs going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away.Â
âKind of a bummer though,â you start, âI was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.âÂ
Keiâs breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage.Â
âWe hang out all the time though,â he says like itâs enough. Of course itâs not enough.Â
âGuess so,â you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice.Â
âYou know,â he starts, already embarrassed at what heâs going to admit. âI wanted to be your friend for a while.âÂ
âOh yeah?â you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. âWhy?âÂ
Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. Itâs embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them.Â
âYou kind of reminded me of Tadashi,â he says. âAnd you both got along so well.âÂ
âTadashi? Iâm nothing like Tadashi,â you laugh, shaking your head.Â
âWhat? No, you two are so similar,â Kei insists, lacing his fingers together.Â
âWhat about us is so similar?âÂ
âWell, youâre both sociable and warm andâŠâ Kei trails off. He canât really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes.Â
âSee?âÂ
Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. Heâd been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, heâs never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow.Â
âWeâre nothing like each other,â you laugh and lean back against your palms. âThough, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.âÂ
Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesnât want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didnât realize he wanted in the first place. If youâre like Kei, then Kei doesnât have to be afraid of showing you the worst. Youâll have already seen it. If youâre like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him?Â
âEven if youâre not like Tadashi, thatâs fine.â His cheeks burn.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âYeah, I like you all the same,â he admits quietly.Â
âThe same? As Tadashi?â You purse your lips a little. âI thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?âÂ
Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like theyâve separated from his body. Anything heâd thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. Youâre so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. Youâre so close and youâre looking at him like youâre waiting for something, implying that somehow youâre different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend.Â
âNo, youâre different,â he says, taking the bait youâve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he canât look at you. He thinks heâll kiss you if he does.Â
âAm I?âÂ
Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what youâre saying sound honeyed and curved.Â
âYeah, you are.â
âHow so?âÂ
Kei finally raises his head to look at you. Youâre grinning, leaning towards him like youâre watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesnât know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesnât think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that heâs still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do.Â
Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. Itâs awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same.Â
He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe thatâs what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more.Â
Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. Thereâs hunger within him, the need to take more than what heâs receiving and a greed he isnât quite familiar with, but thereâs also romance. Itâs like a spell thatâs yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that theyâre all that he can feel right now.Â
The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, youâre both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. Itâs a temporary fix, but itâs enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next.Â
âI think Iâm in really hot water,â he squeaks.Â
âWhat do you mean?â You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you.Â
âI think I want you way more than I thought I did,â he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you.Â
You smile a little before speaking. âI think itâs only hot water if the other person doesnât feel the same way.âÂ
Your face is still so close to his. âYeah?âÂ
It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. Heâs so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you donât feel the same way.
Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. âYeah.âÂ
You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. Heâs so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he canât name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more.Â
Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesnât. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesnât think heâll ever get enough of this.
âWe should go back inside, I think,â you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. âThe others might think somethingâs up and Tanaka isnât exactly good with discretion.â
Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesnât know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place.Â
âYeah, youâre probably right,â Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly.Â
You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him.Â
Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. Heâs tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought.Â
âWhereâd you guys go?â Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him.Â
In the time youâd both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over peopleâs bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him.Â
Kei doesnât know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? Heâs not even sure that he remembers.Â
âI wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,â you answer evenly. âWhy? You jealous?âÂ
âOf inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.â Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldnât voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them.Â
âAw, man, I thought you quit?â Hinata pipes up, tilting his head.Â
âI did, hot stuff,â you respond, sitting down on the couch. âDonât worry. I wonât smoke anymore.âÂ
Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you.Â
His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. Youâre so close to him again, closer than before, and he canât stop replaying the kiss in his head. Heâs desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it.Â
You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. Itâs like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesnât stick his ground, heâll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way heâs desperate to now.Â
After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things theyâd been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation.Â
âHey, weâre going out to the bars. Whoâs coming?â Hinata speaks up.Â
A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.
âI think Iâll probably stay back and start cleaning,â he says somewhat disdainfully. âItâs a mess in here,â Kei tosses you a small glance. Itâs unintentional but heâs glad for it because Kei is hoping that youâll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off.Â
âIâll stay and help too. Iâve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,â you smile and Hinata pouts.Â
âYou guys are so boring,â he protests. âLeave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.âÂ
âIâll pass, pipsqueak,â Kei scoffs.Â
âFine, but donât complain to me when youâre full of regret tomorrow,â he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. âAnd youâre too nice for your own good.âÂ
âDo you hear that?â You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. âI think itâs the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.âÂ
âYou guys are so full of shit-â Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out.Â
âYeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. Weâll see you tomorrow.âÂ
The rope is so taut between you both that itâs unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei.Â
âWeâre not cleaning, right?âÂ
Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours.Â
This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. Itâs fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it.Â
Thereâs an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that youâve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth.Â
Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if heâs leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than heâd expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull.Â
You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Keiâs hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Keiâs never been one to want this way, but right now, itâs all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself.Â
You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall.Â
He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering.Â
Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. Youâre so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability.Â
He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip.Â
He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, heâs overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. Itâs hot and your breath fans across his face.Â
Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Keiâs hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt.Â
His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs.Â
Youâre so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei canât articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and heâs grown hard against the bedspread beneath him.Â
âTouch me,â you breathe out.Â
Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and itâs with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he wonât get to see the way you stick to them.Â
When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadnât realized heâd been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Keiâs nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread.Â
He slides his palm to rest over your center. Itâs warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him.Â
You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like heâs asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Keiâs pillows.Â
Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Keiâs stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear.Â
He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if youâve cum. He wonders if heâs sent you over the edge, but if he has, youâre taking all of it so well that he doesnât dare stop.Â
The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it.Â
He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. Itâs so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Keiâs pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. Heâs sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise.Â
The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time.Â
You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds youâll make.Â
âK-Kei wait, wait,â you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesnât think you mean to hurt him, but it doesnât matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants.Â
âHuh?â He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. âYou okay?âÂ
âIâll cum if you keep going like that,â you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like youâre still on the edge. âDrag it out for me, yeah?âÂ
Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.
âCum if you want to.â He tilts his head down to reattach his lips.Â
âNot yet,â you tug at his hair. âI like chasing it.âÂ
Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy.Â
âCome here,â you coax him onto the mattress.Â
Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump.Â
You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei canât stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response.Â
âYou donât have to,â he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down.Â
âBut I want to,â you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick.Â
Keiâs head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock.Â
For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didnât think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him.Â
Your mouth is so warm and wet. Itâs a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming.Â
Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until heâs bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. Thereâs nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression.Â
Itâs embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesnât take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei canât help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth.Â
âFuck,â he mutters, red faced and panting, âI didnât mean to- I didnât mean to finish so quickly, youâre just-âÂ
âItâs fine,â you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. âI like making you feel good.âÂ
âYeah but-âÂ
âNo buts,â you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. âThereâs still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?âÂ
He nods and you lean down to do as youâd asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like youâre trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die.Â
He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like heâs tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy.Â
Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings.Â
You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. Youâre so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin.Â
Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and thereâs a pause in which Kei doesnât know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesnât know what to do. Keiâs thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward.Â
His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Keiâd almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that youâre looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory.Â
âWhat?â he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation.Â
âYour face is red,â you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek.Â
Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.
âNo,â you pick his chin up. âI like it. Itâs cute.âÂ
You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes youâre sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him.Â
âChrist,â he groans.Â
You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go.Â
Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. Thereâs something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when heâs buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick.Â
His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Keiâs first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. Heâd grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei canât describe, something fulfilling and whole.Â
He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you canât quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips.Â
âI really like you,â you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks.Â
Keiâs heart hammers and his hips stutter a little.Â
âMe too,â he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you.Â
âAre you close again?â you breathe, voice laden with pleasure.Â
âI have been since we started,â Kei admits.Â
âCum then,â you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.
âYou first,â he mutters.
Thereâs this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks itâs a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, itâs just because he thinks itâll look hot.Â
He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way.Â
Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesnât know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. Youâre so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy.Â
He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch.Â
He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. Thereâs pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.
He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. Itâs gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste.Â
You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, youâre already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest.Â
Thereâs a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath.Â
His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesnât know how long itâs been since everyone left, nor does he know when theyâll be back, but he estimates that it wonât be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this.Â
âIâm not good at this kind of stuff,â Kei admits quietly.Â
âWhat stuff?â You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen.Â
âLiking people,â he says. âDating.âÂ
You give a small laugh. âNo offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.âÂ
âShit, seriously?âÂ
âDuh,â you breathe out. âItâs a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.âÂ
So itâs true. You like the parts of Kei that heâs always worried were the worst of him.Â
âHuh,â he says. âCould you tell?âÂ
âThat you like me?â You ask, shifting your head to look at him. âYeah, it was obvious after we established that you didnât hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.âÂ
âReally? I thought I was being a little slick with that,â Kei feels heat and color flood his face.Â
You let out a good-natured laugh. âPeople can always tell when someoneâs staring, Kei. Itâs like a sixth sense.âÂ
âGood to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.âÂ
Another bout of silence follows.Â
âYou can keep staring though,â you say, âif you want to. And calling.â
âOkay,â Kei responds, âI didnât really plan on stopping.âÂ
âHa, freaky,â you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. âWanna start going out?âÂ
Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things.Â
âI think Iâd be a little upset if we didnât,â he admits.Â
âGood,â you say. âMe too.âÂ
Heâs fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest thatâs falling over him. Kei knows youâre fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet.Â
âWe should⊠really get up to clean just a little,â he mumbles.Â
âFive more minutes,â you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness.Â
âOkay,â he says.Â
Itâs just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer.Â
â
Thereâs a period after which Kei doesnât know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. Youâre gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing.Â
Itâs all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that itâs easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin.Â
At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. Thatâs how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance.Â
Kei discovers that heâs possessive. Thatâs a new trait of his that he didnât know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, heâd been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesnât really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that.Â
This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, itâs been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. Heâd worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you.Â
âKei,â you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, âyou okay?âÂ
He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. âYeah, why wouldnât I be?âÂ
âDonât tell me youâre getting cold feet?â You give him a wry smile. âThis was your idea, after all.âÂ
âYeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,â he breathes, âMy parents arenât exactly easy.âÂ
âYou want to cancel?â You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.
âNo,â he shakes his head. âI want you to meet them. I just donât want you to meet them.âÂ
The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, heâd forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. Youâre too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei canât see it any other way, though heâd like to.Â
You snort. âWhat does that even mean?âÂ
Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look.Â
âOkay, sorry,â you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. âI know youâre worried, but I think itâs going to be okay. Iâm excited.âÂ
Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. âExcited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?âÂ
âYup. Iâm excited to meet the people who raised you.âÂ
Kei smiles a little. âYou should meet Akiteru, then,â Itâs an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea.Â
You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. Thereâs an understanding that passes from you to him, like youâre acknowledging that you havenât forgotten what heâd told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little.Â
His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. Itâs a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. Heâs surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive.Â
âKei,â his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.
âHi Mom,â Kei responds and she gives him a small smile.Â
Keiâs dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one heâs had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder.Â
âGuys,â he inhales, âThis is my partner, _____.âÂ
You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like youâve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face.Â
âWeâre so happy to meet you,â his mother starts, âKeiâs never introduced us to any of his partners before.âÂ
âIâm the first?â You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him.Â
âThere really havenât been that many to begin with,â Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better.Â
You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his universityâs graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.
There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away.Â
Heâd expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldnât they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.
It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes havenât been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why canât he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi?Â
âI think that went well,â you say softly on the drive back.Â
Kei nods his agreement. âI think so too.âÂ
You donât bring up the fact that they didnât fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You donât accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was.Â
âIâm glad that I got to meet them,â you say. âYou look so much like your mom.âÂ
âReally?â Kei asks.Â
âYeah, youâve got her eyes and her nose,â you smile a little. âIt makes you two look similar.âÂ
âHuh,â he says. âI never really gave that much thought.âÂ
Kei turns the idea that he has his motherâs face over in his head. Heâd spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that heâs just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when heâs trying to love. But he has his motherâs eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. Itâs like evidence.Â
âYou donât really act like them though,â you say as if on cue. âYouâre a little gentler.âÂ
âMe? Gentle?â Kei scoffs.Â
âYeah!â you say. âI mean, sure youâre prickly, but thereâs a goodness to you thatâs really obvious if you look.âÂ
Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if thereâs any goodness in him, if thereâs anything that hasnât been tainted by his parentsâ sour personalities, itâs from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that.Â
âThatâs a relief,â he admits in a flat tone.Â
After a long pause, he speaks again. âThanks.âÂ
âFor what?â You laugh.Â
âBearing with me⊠and with them,â he says. âCouldnât have been easy.âÂ
âIt was easy,â you say. âBecause I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.âÂ
Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complexâs garage.Â
âYou say that stuff so easily,â he huffs.Â
âWhat? That I care about you?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
âWell, I do,â you laugh a little.
Keiâs face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition.Â
âMe too,â he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. âSorry that I donât say it a lot.âÂ
âNot to be rude,â you say, âbut even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. Youâre kind of a sucker.âÂ
Kei supposes that thatâs true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway.Â
â
Youâre half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his.Â
He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something heâs familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children theyâre raising properly. Theyâre good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too.Â
Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isnât quite beyond him yet. Heâs unsure, in fact, if heâll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldnât see just how bad it made them.Â
Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little.Â
In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. Itâs not hard to love you. Whatâs hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if itâs for you. Heâll bear the brunt of it. Heâll put in the work.Â
Yes, Kei is his parentsâ son, but heâs also Tadashiâs friend, Akiteruâs brother, the person who loves you. He doesnât live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore.Â
âAre you awake?â He whispers across the pillow.Â
âMhm,â you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.
âLetâs move in together,â he says.Â
You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. âAre you sure?âÂ
âYeah, Iâm sure,â he responds. âI want to live with you.âÂ
âOkay then,â you smile a little. âLetâs do it.âÂ
â
In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier.Â
And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesnât want to wake you, not before heâs made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box itâs been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. Itâs a good enough reason, a good enough change.Â
The notebook theory.Â
#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader smut#tsukishima kei x reader smut#hq x reader#tsukishima smut#tsukishima kei smut#tsukishima kei fic#[ đ â writing ]#she is finally finished i hope u enjoy and that u find it romantic and fulfilling#tw: overstimulation#i may add more warnings and such if i remember to#and pls lmk if i forgot any
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May I request a bit of Lucifer with a plus sized reader who has a breeding kink? đ
thank you so much for this request anon it has plagued my brain /pos as someone who's midsized and VERY gay i think the plus sized ladies need more love in fanfic. i hope you like it, im not 100% happy with the writing but lmk and ill change it up :)
cw: smut, breeding kink (duh), mentions of daddy kink but it's not rly used, reader is described as plus sized could be midsized ig, cum eating?? it's not like DIRECTLY mentioned but it kinda happens??, reader is overstimulated cause lucifer wants to make her a mommy, not proofread well
other: im on vacation and working through some requests so please know your request has been noted! ill probably come out with some more alastor/reader/lucifer sometime in the next couple of days.
â for starters, i firmly believe that he's the kind of guy to LOVE chubby girls
â like he loves how soft you are
â if you're laying in bed with him you better expect for him to be all over you
â no matter what you wanna wear he thinks it hot. seeing you confident is his biggest turn on and he loves it when you are feeling your best.
â put on some low rise jeans and that man is on his knees for you
â safe to say this man is 100% your number 1 supporter and will hype you up no matter what
â if you're taller than him, literally no issue. like have you seen the height difference between him and lilith?
â look he's a guy who knows how to handle anyone of any shape/size/gender
â he's been around since the beginning of humanity this guy knows how to fuck
â we all know he's a munch
â i feel like he'd be the kind of guy to be REALLY into thighs
â like you'd be laying in bed and he'd start kissing down your body, his hands running over your curves
â paying special attention to your lower belly before moving to your thighs
â he likes going down on you but if you at all want to ride his face he's 100% in
â i feel like if you hadn't asked he'd definitely have suggested it before
â the kind of guy to like pull you down on his face
â he wants you to SIT dammit
â the breeding kink tho.
â i feel like he'd already have a daddy kink but the breeding kink just adds to it yk
â he thinks you look absolutely divine when his cum is leaking out of you
â but on days he's particularly feeling the breeding kink, he 100% shoving his fingers in you after he pulls out.
â gotta make sure you stay full
â he can't help it he just loves you so much he wants to see you swollen with his child :(
"darling just one more for me please" he breathes out, sweat dripping down his body as he tries to coax another orgasm out of you.
he had been feeling in a bit of a mood tonight, and when you came into his office with those shorts of yours on he couldn't think about anything other than breeding you.
so here we are, laid out on his desk, and him hovering over you. your legs ache from trembling so hard, and every orgasm makes you practically blind from how long he'd been going at it. his cum leaks out of your hole, he'd been dumping load after load in you, and now he's shaking too.
he's gotta fill you up though, he'd love nothing more than you carrying his love. he feels that pit is his stomach tighten, and he gently rubs your clit. "gonna be such a good mommy," he'd coo, feeling you turn to putty in his arms.
when the time comes and he crashes over his orgasm, spilling deep in you once more, he's careful to stay locked in for a little while, but he's peppering your face with kisses.
"you did such a good job ducky" he murmurs, rubbing soft circles on your hips. until he'd pull back just a little to watch his cum leak out of you again, utterly spent.
when he finally completely pulls out its not long until his fingers make their way in you, "shh baby i know, but i gotta make sure it takes" he'd whisper to you as you squirm away from him.
he tsks a little shortly after, his fingers slowly withdrawing. he plunges thumb into your mouth, "suck" he says firmly, which you do, of course. cleaning off his fingers so good for him.
he pulls his hand back, it returns to your side, and you whine as you feel his fat tip press against your hole again, and he coos down at you, folding your legs up to your knees. "cmon missy, we can go one more time right? you can go again sweetheart" he says as he eases his cock into you again.
safe to say, he's dumping loads of his cum in you until he's shooting blanks.
#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer smut#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#request#plus size reader#mid size reader#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lucifer
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ê° :đ„ [ War is over? ] ââĄá”ê±ËË â· âŻ
â Request! á”Ì
Summary : The hotel was in shambles and a certain radio demon was missing from the group. Worried for him, you start your way down to the destroyed radio tower, scared of what might await you.
Pairing : Alastor x Doe! Gn! Reader
Word count : 2962 Words
Genre : Angst, Comfort
Warnings â” SPOILERS FOR EP 8!! Crazy Alastor, Out
of character? , Swearing, Blood
a/n : Thank you sm for this request! I love the idea and trope sm for Alastor! Also that scene- oh my, it was insane! I just love what a crazy and complexe chara he is!
Rly going into the crazy Al spectrum here, make him go crazy over almost dying saving his > friends <
Also added the reader being a doe! Hope that was okay! Despite it being a doe reader, I still only used gender neutral prounouns / only used > you < as for describing the reader!âĄ
Request by : @alastorsdarlingdoe
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ Â·ï»ż ï»ż ï»żÂ· ï»ż Â·ï»ż ï»ż ï»żÂ· âĄ
Your eyes wander over the lights of Pentagram City down below, a breeze moves your hair, raising your hand to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Sighing, a hand runs over your forehead now, slightly pinching the bridge of your nose while leaning on the railing of the balcony. The music and chatter from inside could be heard, everyone was trying to enjoy this night before the battle, but you couldn't help but worry. Worried something might happen or that someone might die, even though you tried to push these thoughts to the far back of your mind, trying to be positive, trying to see the best, and telling yourself everyone will make it out alive and safe.
"Damn it.." Rubbing your fingers over your eyes softly, trying to remove the tears that were building up. Sniffing a few times, your foot taps the floor anxiously while your ears are slightly pressed back. Body noticeably tense and nervous. To many things going through your head, you loved everyone in this hotel so much, that if anything were to happen to someone you would be devastated. Especially if something were to happen to Alastor.
Alastor was one of the first sinners you got close to in hell after Rosie had introduced him to you years ago. By now you two were a darling little pair, as Rosie liked to call it. It did take a while for both of you to grow close and accept these feelings, but in the end, you did. Even though it was sometimes hard with an Overlord as your partner, he made sure you were safe and taken care of all the time, so you had nothing to worry about. You can still remember the day you met Alastor like it was yesterday. Sitting in Rosie's boutique, sipping on some tea, as she squealed in excitement before pulling the red-haired demon over. Of course you knew who he was before you even met him, no one goes through hell without hearing about the radio demon, who overthrew the old Overlords, sooner or later. Ears straight up and turned to his direction, your ears were slightly wide, visibly alert of the dominating and dangerous presence of Alastor. He though simply smiled at you, took your hand, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, introducing himself to you. It was a beautiful memory. Not so beautiful was his disappearing for seven years, but you forgave him, which brought you to where you are right now, on the balcony of Charlie Morningstar's hotel. Worrying your head off over the ear against heaven and the exterminators.
"A penny for your thoughts darling?" Shrieking together at the voice behind you, you hadn't noticed Alastor joining you on the balcony, too deep in your thoughts. Quickly rubbing over your eyes, before turning to the man you love with a smile on your face. This caused suspicion to rise in him, were you crying? "Oh, Al! It's nothing important! Why aren't you with the others." Watching him slowly approach you, he softly places his hand on your cheek, watching you close your eyes and nuzzle into the palm of his hand. Alastor could see right through you and you knew that, he always knew when you lied, just like you did right now. "Oh my little doe, how can I be inside when my darling is outside here crying and overthinking all by yourself?" His voice was soft, it was only for your ears, he only used this tone with you. Opening your eyes again, gazing up at him with tearful eyes. He couldn't help but coe at this sight, his little doe darling looking at him all teary-eyed, though he preferred a different time for this sight.
"Now, now~ Why don't you tell me what's bothering this pretty little head of yours?" Wiping away the tears on your face and at your eyes with his fingers now, carefully to not accidentally cut you with his claws. Watching as your teeth sink down on your lip, another habit you had when nervous, making his finger trail softly over your lips, letting your teeth release the lip before you could bite it bloody. "It's just.. I'm.. Ugh.. Worried, what if something happens? What if someone dies? What if.. you die?" Tears were building up in your pretty eyes again, making Alastor chuckle slightly, not that you were crying, but that you were even thinking of him dying. He was the radio demon, no one would kill him, and no one would even get close to killing him. "Oh sweetheart, don't worry your little head over nonsense like this, nothing will happen to any of us and especially not me! Haha! Trust me dearest! Everything will be fine." Fingers softly swipe over your cheek, as he pulls your body closer to your face, leaning down slightly and planting a soft kiss to your forehead, before nuzzling his nose against your hair between your two flickering ears. Not being able to suppress new tears, your arms go around his waist, pressing your face into his chest. Alastor tensed for a second from your touch, but quickly melts into it himself, laying his arms around you, one hand softly playing with your hair.
He was right, everything would be all right, at least that's what you thought..
It was as if everything went by in a flash, the exterminators were flying down to the hotel, and everyone was doing their best while Alastor protected the group with a shield, to make sure no new angels could attack while the first ones were being taken care of. But that was quickly taken care of by Adam himself, breaking the shield which made your eyes grow wide, he was able to do that? This was not good at all. Doing your best to help the others, fighting back to back with Angel, shielding Husk from an attack with your spear, and pulling Charlie down from an attacker just in time.
This was truly hell. And it even got worse when Adam suddenly started targeting the rest of the group, where was Alastor? Looking around wildly you couldn't see him, Charlie speaking your exact thoughts that if Adam is here he must be... "WATCH OUT!" Husk smashes into you, pulling you to the ground to the side, where you stood seconds before now an angelic spear piercing the ground. "Get your shit together! That motherfucker isn't dead! So till this is over get your act together and make sure you're not the one dying, 'cause if you do that fucker will have my head for that!" Husk was shaking your shoulders violently, everything that was a blurry mess before slowly coming back to you. He was right, you need to survive this, if Husk said he wasn't dead, it must be true, he would probably feel it if Alastor died through his soul contract.
The fight continued on, after Sir Pentious brought his sacrifice, Charlie was facing Adam by herself, Vaggie was somewhere in the hotel with that one exterminator fighting, while the rest took care of the angels outside the hotel, keeping Charlie and Vaggie's backs clear. It was exhausting, you got a few injuries on your body too, but nothing too bad, the fight soon ended with Lucifer showing up to save his daughter and Niffty stabbing Adam herself.
After collecting your thoughts and hugging Charlie for a while, you started to look around. The hotel was completely destroyed, but with everyone around, there was new hope, with Lucifer leading the group and especially Charlie to not give up on this. Eyes wandering over the debris the hotel was now, over everyone around, keeping your eyes open for a certain demon. A thought pops into your head, making your way to the cliff, looking down, at the radio tower lying at the bottom of the cliff. Slowly and carefully to not trip, you make your way down, scared of what might or might not await you. Would he be there? Would he be hurt? Alive? Dead? Maybe he had gone again like those seven years ago, leaving everyone and everything behind.
Blood on the floor leading to the radio tower made your eyebrows raise, so someone or something for sure was here and injured. You just hoped it was Alastor and that he wasn't beyond getting stitched up.
Reaching the hatch to his radio tower, you notice it standing open. Reaching your arms out, you carefully pull yourself up and pull your knee up to enter the room. Looking up already while entering, you see Alastor standing at his desk, his back facing you, yet you could see the way his whole body was tense and clawing at the desk with his hands. Finally in the room, on your knees you slowly get up to stand, looking at the man you love worried.
"Alastor..?" His ears turn to you before his head snaps in your direction, making an uncomfortable cracking sound, his body turning to you fully now. His eyes looked like nothing before, blown wide, crazy, crazier than they had ever been. This wasn't Alastor, but the Radio Demon before you. "Darling.. You're hurt.." Looking down at his chest to the gushing wound, crimson red painting his already red clothes. Laughter echoes through the space now. "HURT?! AHAHA! You're funny dearest! I'm not hurt! I cannot be hurt, did you forget who I am?!" Blown red eyes were staring right back at your own wide eyes, your eyes wide out for different reasons than his. "I know darli-" He took a step towards you, making your ears stand alert, you didn't fear Alastor, yet the Radio Demon scared you right now. "OH DEAREST! What a fight that was! Me?! Great Alastor, altruist, dying for his friends?!" His ears were parted, flat to the sides, while his hands were slowly tearing at his hair, pacing in a circle now, before slamming his hands to the desk. Shadows dancing around the two of you in the red light. You didn't dare whisper another word, even your breath stocking in your lungs, not sure if you should even breathe right now.
Alastor was going crazy, the fact of him almost dying being seen as a hero fucked with his mind, did he care about dying? No, he couldn't care less, but being seen as a good person, a redeemed sinner, or a hero?! No.
"You know what?! Now! After all this, it made me hungry! Hungry for the freedom barely out of reach! Never have I felt this before, can you believe this?! I was.. AM! so close!" An insane monologue continuing, he talked as if he was rather talking to himself than to you, did he even register you being there fully yet? He was driven by adrenalin, by a close death. Raising your hand, you were about to reach out for him, trying to pull him out of whatever spiral he was caught inside right now. "I'm so close! These constraints must have a backdoor right?! This deal!" Fingers pulling at his locks again, your own hand stilling in the air, as you watch him pace around, his eyes darting everywhere, when looking at you, they looked through you, he did not even realize you were here.
His whole body was trembling by now, the smile was strained on his face, making you worried to the core. Never had you thought you would ever experience such a side of Alastor, it shocked you. Now that his monologue stopped, you took cautious steps toward your lover, your finger barely grazing his arm, his eyes now snapping to you, his ears following. He was looking at you finally, not over or through you, he realized you were there and that he wasn't alone. "You're fine Al, you didn't die, you proved it." You knew to get to him, you had to reassure him, even if it was probably a bad idea, but for now, this would probably be the only way to get to him. "You're right dearest.." His hands slowly lowered from his hair, a few hairs tangled in them from how hard he was pulling on his poor hair. Eyes trailing down to the wound on his chest now, feeling your own tighten at the sight of Alastor injured. This was something you didn't think was possible to happen till now.
"Let me take care of this.." Pulling him to the desk softly, you make him lean against it, as you push his coat off his shoulders and start to unbutton his dress shirt, laying them to the side carefully. Ears pressing to your head now as you take in the wound on his chest, you knew his eyes were following your every move, so you tried not to keep on that for too long. Gathering everything you would need to somewhat clean and stitch him up, the things you had would have to do. The air was thick when you got to clean his wound, Alastor was watching you with his smiling face, while your own was adorned with a frown. It scared you knowing he could've died if he didn't disappear mid-fight, he would be dead now if he continued. Those thoughts make your hands shake, your view getting blurry as tears fill your eyes. Looking up when his hand softly encloses around the one holding the needle. "My poor little doe, I'm sorry for worrying and scaring you." Lips press softly against the knuckles of your hand. Pulling yourself together, you quickly finish the stitches up, then you would have all the time to get emotional and cry. Helping Alastor put on his dress shirt now, he slumps down to the floor, his back leaning against the wall, he was probably exhausted. It would take a while for him to heal entirely and be the old himself again.
"Come here beloved." Alastor was holding his arms open for you, finding a place between his legs now, your head leaning on his shoulder, opposite of his injury, making sure you wouldn't touch the freshly stitched-up wound. "I'm sorry.. I was just so worried.." And before you knew it, the tears were streaming down your face, while Alastor softly held you in his safe embrace. "I know dearest, I know...But worry not, I'll be back to myself in no time, don't you worry." His hand was rubbing up and down your back, while his chin rested on the crown of your head. His words were true and you knew that, he would be his old self quicker than you would know, still, it scared you to know he wasn't unharmable and could die. Hiding your face in your hands now, your body violently shaking with sobs. "Now, now my darling doe, you know I hate to see you cry." Pulling your hands away from your face, he looks at you for a second, before your arms already go around his neck as you straddle his thighs now, body shaking with sobs while he feels your tears wetting his shirt. His eyes were slightly wide, a silent wince from his wound flashing through his eyes for a second, but he suppressed any sound for your sake. "There, there, it will be all right my little doe." One of his arms was going around your waist now, pulling you even closer to him, did his wound throb from you pressing against him? Yes, yet he couldn't seem to care. The other hand was moving its way into your hair, rubbing to bottom of your ears softly.
The two of you stayed like that for quite a while, the violent and loud sobs, soon subsiding to small whimpers before completely quieting down to soft tears silently running down your cheeks. Alastor shoulder was by now entirely wet from your tears, yet he couldn't care.
"Calmed down now, have been darling?" Feeling Alastor's lips press to your temple, you finally raise your face from his shoulder and look at him. Eye bloodshot from crying for so long, cheeks wet from all the tears and your throat sore from sobbing. "There is my beautiful doe, look at you, even after crying you're beautiful as ever dearest." Nuzzling against his hand that was now resting on your cheek, your eyes look up into his. Your eyes were something Alastor always loved, they looked so innocent and soft, something not often seen down here in hell. His eyes cast down to your lips for a brief second, you noticed and closed your eyes, inviting him. Feeling his soft lips on yours quickly, as his arm around your waist softly presses you against him, while the other hand still cradles your face. The kiss was soft, yet full of passion, it was all the feelings you two felt poured into one kiss. Which lasted longer than you thought. Pulling apart soon, puffs of air falling from both of your lips.
"I love you my beloved and I'm sorry for worrying you so much, but trust me, once this is over and I'll be able to roam free, watch me reach everything for us." Smiling at you, he softly rubs his thumb over your cheek before your head rests on his shoulder again, face in his neck. "I love you too Al.. I can't wait for you to be finally free again.." Pressing a soft kiss to his neck, giggling softly at him slightly tensing up from it before relaxing again.
You two took your sweet time together, was that what both of you needed right now, before eventually getting back and reuniting with the group. A new hotel and new goals waiting for everyone.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ Â·ï»ż ï»ż ï»żÂ· ï»ż Â·ï»ż ï»ż ï»żÂ· âĄ
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Hello, it's me again :3
I want to ask you if you can write about Sako, Togame and Suo's love language.
Maybe both smut and sfw or when it's too much you decide :3
love languages.
featuring: Togame Jo, Hayato Suo
contains: established relationships, mild somnophilia from Togame, cunnilingus, implied multiple rounds, fingering and nipple play
word count: 800
note: all characters are aged up to 21+!
MDNI | 18+ content
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a/n: ty for this request!! i tried to do Sako but i rly struggled with his character, i think i need to rewatch windbreaker lmao im sorry but i hope you enjoy togame and suo!!
Togame Jo // quality time
Togameâs favourite time of the week is when he gets to spend time with you.
Heâs usually busy during the week but he always makes sure to carve out his weekend for you, dedicating his whole time to being with you. It means when he comes home late when youâre already asleep or when he sleeps through most of the day, you donât mind so much. Because you know at the end of the week, youâll have him all to yourself.
Togame comes home late on a Friday night but heâs always up before you on a Saturday morning. He wakes you up slowly, taking his time with you as he drags his tongue across your clothed pussy. His grip on your thighs is soft as he nudges your panties to the side, getting his first real taste of you. Your eyes flutter open as his tongue is buried in your cunt, his strong nose bumping against your clit.
âG-Good morning, Jo,â you breathe, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair as you grind back against his face.
Togame hums in response, tongue lapping at your hole. Youâre still sleepy, your pleasure building slowly even as Togame deftly eats you out, but neither of you mind. Your weekends always consist of this â of slow, languid sex as Togame spends as much time as possible prolonging your pleasure. Heâs never in any rush, knows he has two full days to draw multiple orgasms from you, knows youâll take as many loads as he gives you.
Togame pulls himself away from between your legs, crawling up to you with a lazy grin on his face. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Togame lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance. You feel it nudge past your puffy lips, teasingly close.
âYou ready for me, sweetheart?â Togame asks, smile still playing on his lips.
You know he doesnât mean just now. He means for the whole weekend. By the time Sunday evening comes around, you both know youâll be a limp, breathless mess, a familiar ache between your legs as Togameâs cum paints your body.
And youâll both treasure every second.
âIâm ready,â you whisper back as Togame sinks himself inside you.
Hayato Suo // acts of service
Suo knows youâve had a long day. You dragged yourself through the door of your shared apartment and sat down with a huff on the couch next to him. So, without asking, Suoâs made you a cup of your favourite tea and brought your favourite snack over. He places them both on the coffee table before sitting back down with a smile.
âThank you.â You press a grateful kiss against his cheek. âYouâre the best.â
Suo hums happily and pulls you towards him.
âOnly the best for you,â he replies.
Your couch is large and L-shaped so Suo sits in the corner section, his legs outstretched before him as he manoeuvres you to sit between his legs. You do so, feeling your back flush to his chest as you lean back against him. Heâs solid and warm behind you and you already feel your sore muscles loosen slightly.
âThatâs it,â Suo whispers soothingly in your ear. âLet me help you relax.â
Suo presses featherlight kisses against the crook of your neck as his hands run up the sides of your arms. You close your eyes and tilt your head back against his shoulder, melting into him.
Suo loves doing this for you. Loves taking care of you with little regard for himself, although heâd be lying if he said he wasnât enjoying touching you like this.
He uses his knees to hook under your legs, spreading them for him. His hand travels over your stomach and down under the waistband of your shorts while the other slides under your top to cup one of your tits.
You moan lightly, reaching up behind you to card your fingers through the hair at the nape of Suoâs neck. He keeps up the gentle kisses against the skin just under your ear as he tweaks one of your nipples, making a jolt of pleasure surge through you. His other hand uses your slick to trace frictionless circles against your clit.
You have the urge to turn around, you return the favour to Suo but you know from experience he wonât let you. For Suo, this is the same as making you tea or planning your dates â he wants to serve you.
So you relax back into him, letting Suo slide his long fingers between your folds as he buries them inside you. You moan and tighten your grip on his hair as he fingers you, finding the sensitive spot inside you that has you gushing down his palm.
Because you know this is how Suo shows you how much he loves you.
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đAMP EATING OUT HC'S
What the AMP boys are like giving head Feat: Duke Dennis, Kai Cenat, Agent00, JiDion, Fanum
Duke Dennis -This mf is so fuckin hot it's crazyy -Presses a myriad of kisses all over your inner thigh, even leaves a hickey there just so that only he can see it, cuz he's a possessive mf -Even starts with pressing a kiss on your core, wetting his lips which he j licks off before getting in there -And he's like, 6'2 so i know DAMN WELL he's got some sexy long fingers that he's gonna be scissoring in your pussy whilst he wraps his lips 'round your clit n sucks on that -Double stimulation of your g-spot and clit has you cumming haaard -And I j get the feeling that Duke's the type that's gonna ask whether you wanna do another round after that- maybe with his cock in your hole instead, this time
Kai Cenat -I just don't think he's much of a giver đ -I feel like he'd rather use fingers than go down on a girlie and eat it up -Atl he's... tried before? -Sorry but I just can't imagine he'd be good at it đ Like he'd be narrating to himself what he's doing just to like... Affirm to himself that he's doing it right -But this is the type of guy to get the left flap confused with the clitoris -Wondering why you're not moaning or really saying nothing... Eventually just had to say "You know what, maybe this isn't for you" -sorry to the Kai girlies but I just don't think Kai's got the good head game in him đ
Fanum -This mf loves eating, and eating you out is no exception ong fr đ -I feel like he'd be so easily turned on an picks up on signals sooo easy, so best believe that after a whole night out of teasing he wouldn't be playing around -Soon as you two get a moment alone he's not even wasting a second of time to take of your clothes or nun -Pulls up your skirt, pushes your panties to the side - the one time you wore a pair of tights he ripped through them like nothing, making you gasp and hiss his name - he just hushed you with promises of ill buy you a new pair don't you worry sweetheart- -And he's a messy mf when he's going down -Lapping that shit up like a DAWG, has you cursing n squeezing his head HARD between your thighs -Honestly it's crazy how good this guy is at giving head and he's a cocky bastard because he knows it too
JiDion -I think his song Thick Chicks affirms what typ'a girl he's into -And facesitting, he's a big fan of that -He likes a girlie sitting on his face, grinding down and riding his tongue -Clamps his arms around your thighs to your your pussy flush against his mouthÂ
Agent -Sooo this guy could not SHUT UP about eating ass, and squid pussy during that AMP x Beta Squad vid -And I think his enthusiasm has me convinced that he is genuinely into all that... not eating squid pussy, eating ass i mean -Has you on all fours, hand pressing your upper back down so that your face and tiddies are pressed into the bed, ass arched on up -He's got one hand 'round your thigh, rubbing up n down, occasionally his thumb curling over and pressing to your clit, drawing circles on your clit and making you arch back into his touch -and he's going between licking your pussy and eating you out there, and spreading your cheeks n eating ass -I feel like he'd have experience too, yk, like he'd be good as hell with his tongue
-------
look ik i didn't do all of AMP but ngl, im a big british youtube girlie and i don't rly know (at all) what Chris n Davis r like đ That being said, do lmk if the AMP girlies out there enjoyed bc this is my first ever AMP-based fic... lmk whether u wanna see more!
Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!
To see more, here's my MASTERLIST
And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read
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Lavender // Tim Drake x GN! Reader
part 1. this is part 2. i just took the LSAT (law school test) feeling floored and dejected right now i cannot lie! rly just ran through writing this đ not proofread im sry
â
When you came to, it was Red Robin at your bedside. His hands neatly folded beneath his head as he rested it on the side of the mattress. The way his back rose and fell, and the way he was still as you shifted around indicated he was asleep. You knew little of him, but enough to know that this was a rarity, to see him in his slumber. And it softened something in you, awakening a yearning to protect this peace for him.
Memories of the previous night ran through your head again, and from what you could collect you remembered that bludgeoning feeling that accompanied his little outburst. To think you were the source of his stress, and his being here amplified that. Tense even in sleep like a guard dog at your beck and call.
But heâd forget you soon enough.
If you were honest with yourself, you held a selfish desire for this arrangement to last as long as possible for all the wrong reasons. He was kind and dependable and witty; talking was easy and secretly fawning over him was even easier. This, of course, you knew was unsustainable. Youâre a job. Heâs a hero in a mask.
When all is good and done and you go your separate ways, heâd find something else to stress over. Although, you hoped it wouldnât be so taxing. You werenât happy to be a burden, but if you were his worst then the rest would be easy to bury when you were gone. Wishful thinking, thereâs always bigger fish to fry. But worse was the thought that something else could make him as upset as this.
He looked so peaceful, face resting in his palms, features angelically frozen in place. A couple of stray strands dangled between the whites of his mask, brushing against his nose as a breeze trailed in from the open bedside window. You reached forward to push them back, but as soon as your fingers brushed his locks he stirred. Your eyes widened; pulling your hand back, out of embarrassment or something otherâ you werenât sure, you pretended to be interested in the birds flying by outside as heâd picked his head up off the sheets.
âY/N?â It was a wonder you mistook him for Tim the night before, the fatigue was likely to blame. What a ridiculous mistake. Where Tim sounded gentle and fleeting, like waves lapping at the shore, Red Robin was more grounded in his speech. They were uncannily similar in their own respects, but the difference was undeniable. When Tim spoke, it was like he coaxed you into listening, when Red Robin calls your name itâs like he pulls you to him.
You turned from the window to look at him, feigning as composed of an expression as you could, as if your hand wasnât inches from his face a couple seconds ago.
He stood, stoically brushing himself off and straightening himself, âare you feeling alright? Howâs your arm?â
Thatâs right. Youâd been shot at. You glanced at your bandaged arm, neatly wrapped and tightly bound. It honestly wasnât so bad, it was the tranquilizers that really hit you, and the worst of that effect was long over if your sudden alertness had anything to mean by it, âfine, I almost forgot about it.â
He shook his head, arms crossed, âI donât know, you seemed pretty shaken yesterday.â
âWas not.â
âSorry, who was screaming crying?â The ghost of a smile danced on his lips.
Your face burned red remembering your sorry state, âyou said you wouldnât show! How was I supposed to know?â
His lips curled up into a real smile with the twinge of something like guilt hidden underneath it. You didnât mean to make him feel bad, but the fact that he was smiling was enough to ease your heart. âTold you I could get in anywhere.â
The serene expression on his face reminded you of Tim. In almost every sense they were different, but something in their mannerisms aligned as if the very fabric of their nature were cut from the same cloth and tailored by someone elseâs hand. And although youâd only met him once, Tim struck you as someone you really wanted to know. He was magnetizing and more importantly, things with him felt like they were easy.
âDo you know if Tim Drake got out safely?â
Red Robin nodded, âheâs fine.â
âHe hid me in the first place, you know,â you smiled to yourself, âand then he went back out for his brother or something. He seems like a really good person.â
He snorted and you swore if you could see his eyes heâd be rolling them, âhe shouldâve taken you outside to the police or left you with a guard at least.â
You furrowed your brows, âdonât be mean.â
âJust saying,â he mumbled. âThey did book tickets for you to return, the Waynes.â
âIâm not going back, I told you that.â
âAt least think it over.â
âI slept on it, Iâm staying.â You cut him off before he could protest, âat least until the launch. And I meant what I said, you donât have to watch me anymore. Itâs not like I remember all the files Iâd read, Gotham is safe, and I have my own people. Iâll just have to keep a⊠lower profile.â
âYou meant what you said?â You couldnât read his expression, the mask got in the way.
âEvery word.â But the way he asked the question made you want to throw in a âmostlyâ for insurance.
âSo you really like Tim Drake?â
Your face burned, immediately crossing your arms in defense. That part of the conversation conveniently slipped your mind.âYou know thatâs not what I meant!â
âSo you donât like Tim.â The nerve he had to smirk at you left your jaw on the floor as you stumbled for a response. As if youâd admit it twice, you didnât even know him that well.
âStop bullying me,â you grumbled.
He just snorted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. âYou donât need to keep a low profile. As long as youâre here Iâll take care of you.â
You whipped your head to look at him. The last thing you needed was to be a burden to the infinitely charming, slightly annoying, masked stranger sitting in front of you.
âNo way, I can handleââ
âIâll take care of you,â he reiterated, in that frustratingly soft tone that made you forget everything else. Your resolve was by no means something weak, but you already had an inclination towards him, you knew this. And he was too tantalizing to deny, he must know this. It wasnât fair, you had to fold.
âThank you.â
Despite it all, you still exercised your caution. Unlike before, you were careful about announcing your whereabouts or even spending excessive time in public. He would do his job, but you would do your best to make it easier. And things were quieter, nothing happened.
A week after the altercation your schedules cleared enough for you to meet Tim for coffee. Heâd reached out first but you brought up meeting, for business purposes of course. Youâd arrived early, out of something like excitement or anticipation. And he was late.
âHey, sorry traffic held me up.â Your heart sped up when you saw him walking towards the table, and you werenât sure if it was your brain tricking you into thinking you liked him that much or if you were really that pathetic. His hair was messy in the way hair gets tousled when you change shirts, but it suited him more so than the polished, perfect look heâd worn the day of the gala.
âThatâs okay,â you shook your head with as calm a smile as you could muster, âmy schedule is open today. Iâm not in a rush.â
He beamed at you, taking the opposite seat. âRight! Whatâd you order?â Tim nodded towards the cup in front of you.
âOh, itâsââ
âWait no let me guess.â He squinted at the cup before locking eyes with you. The cup itself wasnât clear, but maybe he could get a sense for what it was based on the residue on the straw or something ridiculous like that. After a moment, it seemed heâd decided. He spoke with confidence, complete and certain, âa chai⊠dirty. Like four shots of espresso dirty, light ice, sugar free sweetener.â
And he was wrong. You burst out laughing, âWhat? No.â
His eyes had a tendency to smile before his lips did, you noticed. He was shocked for two seconds before laughing with you. âWas I close?â
âNot even, you order espresso with chai? Are you okay?â You scrunched your nose and shook your head just thinking about it. Not just espresso but four shots of it, he was something else.
âNo, see, Iâm more of a straight black coffee kind of guy.â
You had to laugh, making him stare at you with an amused confusion. First his archaic responses to emails and now this. He just looked young, but he was 40 and balding deep down inside, you knew it. âAnd you like reading Kafka and playing chess too?â
He tilted his head to the side in catlike curiosity, and the sunlight caught in his eyes the way it glimmers on the surface of the ocean. It wasnât fair to compare him to a cat though, youâd supposed, he was a dog. Through and through. âHowâd you know?â
When heâd gotten his coffee order (pitch black; you shuddered just thinking about it) and youâd both settled into the late morning, he suggested a walk around the city.
You were supposed to be playing things safe, sticking to quiet locations that Red Robin could clearly monitor you from. But truthfully, you hadnât had time to see the city, nor did you want to turn down the most charming guide the place had to offer. So of course, you agreed. Red Robin was good at his job, this much would be fine.
âYou know, Iâm not so bad a dancer. I just hadnât waltzed in a long time.â Heâd taken you to a park in the heart of it all. It was huge, sprawling walk ways amongst rolling hills dotted with trees. Somewhere in it was a lake, he promised, so thatâs where you were headed arm in arm.
âRight,âhe scoffed, âI believe you.â You couldâve drowned in the sarcasm that dripped from his voice. If he wasnât so chipper about it, you mightâve even been offended.
âItâs true!â You smacked his arm with a half hearted huff he had nerve to laugh at. After a breath, you started again, âIâve been meaning to ask, what cologne do you wear?â
An emotion flickered across his face, going as a quickly as it came. If youâd blinked youâd have missed it, the briefest twitch of his left brow and the way his lips parted for a millisecond. Not that it meant anything to you, you couldâve imagined it, because he was back and beaming before you could push on.
âWhy? Do you want it?â From seemingly nowhere, he pulled out a pocket sized atomizer and spritzed the wrist of his sweater. Tim linked his arm with yours again, before taking the cologne covered sleeve your shoulder and arm with it. The scent of that lavender vanilla washed over you again. In your head you thought they were Pavlov-ing you in some tag teamed manner. At first it was whatever, but now those gentle notes meant safety and comfort. It made you mellow. âJust hang around me more often, itâll stick.â
âRed Robin wears the same one,â and there it was again. Except this time his face didnât change, but you could feel the muscles the arm linked to yours tense briefly and his pace slowed by a millisecond. âI just thought it was a funny coincidence. Iâve never met anyone else thatâs worn it, and I know my perfumes. Youâre a fan right?â
âOh no, not at all.â He said it too quickly and he knew it. It looked like his featured had frosted over, like a deer in headlights. Tim cleared his throat, glancing away awkwardly. âI prefer Red Hood,â he tacked on.
âOh,â you frowned, maybe he was shy about it or maybe Red Robin yelled at him. He was displeased enough the other day. âYouâre awfully similar, I think youâd get along. Heâs a little meaner though. Well, not mean but like⊠closed off.â
âYeah that guy sounds like he sucks,â he mumbled.
âDonât say that.â It came out sterner than youâd intended or anticipated. You donât know why the urge to defend your masked stalker arose so strongly within you, but you didnât feel justified in anyone thinking anything less of him than what he was. Softening your tone, you tried again. âHe cares a lot, and he tries really hard, and heâs good at what he does, and it makes a difference.â
He just stared at you. But not in a way you could decipher. He wasnât annoyed or spiteful or anything. He just stared; mouth slightly agape and face unshakingly still.
Timâs silence spurred on your embarrassment, maybe youâd spoken out of turn. You were suddenly very interested in the foliage, âhey, look at that⊠tree.â
âYouâre right.â Relief flooded your body as he broke the tension, and moreso because he agreed with you. âDo you wanna go out sometime? With me?â
You slowed your steps to a halt. It came out a little out of the blue, but more importantly, âthis isnât a date?â
âI can do better than this for a first date.â And with that oh so gentle smile on his face, you were doomed to believe him.
Tim delivered, of course. He took you to a pottery house to paint your own plates and spin your own mugs; none of which were shaped very nicely by either of you, but he insisted they were gorgeous and⊠avant garde.
After youâd both wasted enough clay and everything was ready to be fired, he took you to a private garden with the most scenic blooms in Gotham. For a workaholic shut in, he knew an impressive amount of plant factsâ at least enough to give you a guided tour of the place and tell you what each flower in the bouquet he picked for you meant.
Subsequently heâd prepared a picnic dinner under starry skies and a full moon, that he insisted heâd cooked himself. He was lying, but you wouldnât find out until years after.
So saying yes to a second date was an easy answer. And to a third. A fourth.
Before you knew it, you were going steady, and the day of the product launch was soon approaching. You didnât know what youâd do after. Itâs not like you had everything on the files memorized, so if anyone kidnapped you for information, Gotham would be safe. But likely theyâd try anyways and you couldnât keep dragging Red Robin along on a string.
Youâd grown fond of his presence though, telling him secrets or asking for advice about Timberly, and you were disappointed when he rejected your employment offer. Not that it surprised you, he had his own agenda. You werenât scared of going long distance with Tim, heâd reassured you that the two of you could FaceTime during your 30 minute lunches and that he liked you, like really liked you. And you could believe anything out of his mouth these days. Moreso you were sad youâd miss him, well, them. One was your confidant and the other your lover; leaving felt disheartening.
âTell me why you like me again,â you asked. You and Tim were bird watching at a local wildlife sanctuary. Even though it was a Saturday, the reserve was big (and unpopular) enough to be sparse. And the stillness of it all gave you enough room to hear yourself think and bask in the ambiance of being around him.
The truth was you didnât know much. It was impressive how, with the lengths the two of you would talk, you learned nothing about him. Everything centered around you or the city or something other, and you couldnât control it at all. He was enchantingly skilled at directing conversation.
âBecause your eyes sparkle when you talk and your hair is shiny,â he answered.
You nudged his shoulder, making him lower the binoculars he was looking through from his eyes. âThatâs not what you said last time.â
âI find new reasons every time I see you!â Handing the binoculars to you, he pointed in the distance at some vague tree. âLook there, I think itâs a blackbird.â
You peered through the lens and after some squinting to try and deliberate branches from feathers, you could see what he was talking about. âTim thatâs a crow.â
âNo way,â he took the binoculars back to take another look. After a few seconds he shook his head solemnly, âitâs too small to be a crow. Iâm so sorry, but youâre wrong.â
You gasped at the accusation, as if you could ever be wrong, âitâs too big to be a blackbird!â Looking for the bird again to confirm what you saw, you huffed, âits beak isnât evenââ
When youâd whipped around to tell him to look again he caught you off guard, just looking at you with the most serene smile youâd ever seen.
âYellow,â you finished. âItâd be yellow if it was a blackbird.â
It was one of those where you couldnât tell if he was teasing you or being genuine, although neither was every far off from the other, overlapping often like the ripples fish make in a pond. In this regard, he was uncannily like Red Robin; you couldnât tell a thing he was thinking.
A faint whistling sound pierced through the air for a moment, so subtle it couldâve been mistaken for bird song. That moment was all it took for Timâs expression to change, barking a command for you to duck before pulling you down by your arm anyway. The dull thunk that hit the tree you were leaning on seconds later told you why.
The red tail of a dart was stuck in the trunk where your neck was seconds before. You really couldnât catch a break. Your head snapped towards the sound of rustling leaves in the direction the dart was fired from.
âDid anything hit you?â he whispered and you shook your head. Before you could think anything else your feet were moving on their own, trying to keep up with him as he weaved through the trees, dragging you along. The grip he had on your wrist burned and under different circumstances youâd have been impressed with his agility through the rough terrain, like a third grader admiring the fastest kid in school.
Despite his talents, you werenât so graceful and you found yourself tumbling along. In your own way you were gifted with tripping on every root, rock, and stone that littered the ground. If it werenât for the grip on your wrist you wouldâve fallen and given up at the first rock that crossed your path.
He ushered you into a small bird watching cabin before letting you go and closing the door behind him. You gripped your knees trying to catch your breath as he peeked out the windows.
âStay low, they can shoot through the windows.â You nodded, sliding to the floor with your back to the wall. Instead of sitting beside you, Tim headed straight towards the door.
âWhere are you going?â
âTo get help. Youâll be safe here,â he flashed you a reassuring smile. But before he could leave you caught his arm, shaking your head.
âRed Robinâs here, weâll be okay. Just stay.â This you knew was true because he said he would be, and you didnât need much more confirmation beyond that. The only thing that irked you about the whole situation was why he was so late, heâd prevented almost everything so far, but you were certain he was rushing over or taking care of it as you spoke.
To your surprise, Tim didnât budge, looking you dead in the eye with one of those unreadable expressions again. He didnât tear away from you or do anything intimidating, but it was in the mystery of his expression that you found yourself nervous.
âTheyâre not far behind. Let me go.â He spoke gently but poignantly, like goading a child. And while it was compelling, as he so often was, it didnât make sense.
âNo heâs here, itâs not safe outside!â It felt like you were begging. In all the time youâd spent together, you knew one thing for certain. Tim wasnât stupid, and he definitely wasnât irrational. This was something else, and he wasnât being himself.
âY/N.â In your head you ran through a hundred scenarios. Maybe he got hit by a dart and it made him delusional, or maybe he was a robot clone short circuting. But the plea in his voice when he called your name struck you in the same way an apology from the other night did.
He was still as you let go, reaching instead to cover his eyes with your hand. With just half his face in view, you wondered why youâd never seen it before.
âYouâre him.â It was almost a whisper, you didnât even know if he could hear it or not. But it dawned on you as all the coincidences and reconciliations aligned. All down to the cologne he wore.
âNo.âHe was firm, but his voice wavered. Maybe you imagined it, but nothing he could say now would change your mind. âI just want to get help.â
Gingerly, Tim pushed your hand down and you took a step back, reeling in the thought.
âYouâre Red Robin.â In your own head you tried to disprove it, but it made sense. And you almost felt bad for knowing it because you never wanted to know his identity, that was always supposed to be his to keep.
âIâm a blackbird.â
âYouâre a robin.â
But time wasnât on his side. No one else was coming and the perpetrators were advancing. So without a final refute, he took a breath and reached for the door.
âIâll be back.â
â
tags! @jedidiah1201 @a-taken-url @lara20aral @moonccakes
#tim drake fanfic#tim drake#tim drake x reader#batman#dc#red robin x reader#tim drake imagine#tim drake x gender neutral reader#tim drake fluff
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â§Ë*° àż on cam , part two. â· Ë àŒ*
read part one. part three.
pairings: fwb!matt & enemy!chris x reader
summary: a few days after what happened between you and chris, matt takes you out to the movies & you two start to get a lil freaky. (chris does something unexpected is all iâll say đ)
warnings: making out, getting caught, semi-public, fwb
notes: hi guys special SPECIAL thanks to @monroesturnns for this amazing idea for a part two, ily bae. i can already tell this is going to need another part if i rly wanna get into the plot đđ
after you and chris got all cleaned up, you were washing your face in the sink of chrisâ bathroom when you started to feel guilty. what you and chris just did mustâve been wrong, you and matt had a thing, and that was his brother that practically had you drooling just fifteen minutes ago.
you tried to push away the guilty feeling. making excuses, you and matt werenât together anyway, and this was just a one time thing, right?
but it wasnât, the following few days, you and chris fucked anytime you got the chance. nick and matt were on stream? you and chris would be fucking in the next room over. nick and matt were out buying things for a video? chris would have you bent over mattâs bathroom counter.
it was like you two couldnât get enough of each other, but deep down you both knew that it was wrong.
on the one day you and chris hadnât fucked, matt decided to take you out to the movies. it was a rainy day outside, so what better was there to do? other than sneak around with chris.
you two arrived at the movies, paid for your tickets and snacks, then headed to the correct theater. you were there to see âa quiet place: day oneâ ironic.
you got sat in your seats, getting comfy. matt always picked the back row. not necessarily hoping something would happen, but âjust incaseâ.
there was quiet chatter throughout the theater, friends excitedly bantering about what they thought what would take place in the movie. but you and matt? no. you two were already all over each other.
the moment the lights began to dim, matt slithered his arm around your waist, and the other tugging at your sweater. obviously, you couldnât take it off, so he snaked his free hand in your sweater. luckily for him, you werenât wearing a bra.
he pulled you closer to him, gently squeezing your tits as his mouth made his way to yours. his movements slow at first, but speeding up when a louder preview blared through the theater.
you two continued like this for the majority of the previews, and the beginning of the movie.
still all over each other, and in your own world, you both were startled when a concerned mother approached your seats. she whispered through a stern voice and gritted teeth, âwhat is wrong with you two? me and my kids are trying to enjoy this movie, not this movie.â she said as she swatted at you two, then storming off, back to her seat.
once the woman left, you and matt turned to each other. a smile instantly wiping across both of your faces.
you both laughed it off, then actually starting to watch the movie.
about halfway through, matt feels a buzz in his pocket. he fished for his phone, then started scrolling though his recent notifications.
chris had texted him. it wasnât unusual, they were brothers after all, but what was unusual was what the text read.
âthis yo girl?â *attatchment: 1 video*
notes: edged yall
taglist: @breesturns @pixxiies @submattenthusiast @miss-delicious @dominicfikeenthusiast
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo x you#nick sturniolo x you#nick sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#the sturniolo triplets
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in the arms of the broken â daryl dixon
a/n: to the dear nonnie that requested this đ«¶đ» thank u sm i absolutely adored writing this (i rly should be sleeping but i canât so here i am) i hope you enjoy !!
if you enjoyed reading this, please support me by giving me a like, reblog, and/or comment ! donât forget to follow me either if you want to read more of my stuff !
request: anon said â âi also like the dialogue prompt âi donât know⊠iâve never seen her like thisâ that tugs at the heart stringsâ
summary: reader cannot cope with the way the world has become, during a particularly hard night for themselves, daryl dixon is the one to comfort them.
warnings: angst/sadness ,,, thats it rly
word count: 1,241
recourses: divider by @adornedwithlight
â” tp!daryl masterlist
â” regular masterlist
here is my ask box !
the night was quiet except for the crackle of the fire, but it felt wrongâlike the world had gone still, holding its breath. you sat by the flames, knees drawn to your chest, staring blankly into the flickering light. the heat touched your skin, but it didnât reach you, didnât chase away the cold that had settled deep inside.
daryl watched you from a distance, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. heâd been keeping an eye on you for days, noticing the way youâd been pulling away from everyone, isolating yourself. youâd always been strong, always held it together for the sake of the group, but something was different now. something had changed, and it scared him. you were like a shadow of yourself, your spirit drained, your eyes distant.
rick approached him, eyes flicking over to you before meeting darylâs. âhowâs she holdinâ up?â
daryl didnât answer right away, his jaw tightening as he watched the way you sat so still, your body hunched like the weight of everything had finally become too much to carry. he shook his head, his voice quiet and rough. âi donât know⊠iâve never seen her like this.â
rick nodded, his expression grim. âsheâs been through a lot. more than most of us. maybe she just needs some time.â
rick can recall the first time they found you, smack bang in the middle of atlanta, all alone. you were covered in blood and guts, and if he hadnât actually heard how you begged for help when he saw you, your voice barely audible, he honestly would have thought you were just another walker.
âtime ainât gonna fix whatâs broken,â daryl muttered under his breath, the frustration simmering beneath his skin. time wasnât enough when you were drowning, when you couldnât see a way out of the darkness. and he hated that he didnât know how to pull you out.
rick gave him a look, one that said everything he didnât need to say out loud. âyouâre the one sheâll listen to, daryl. talk to her.â
daryl stood there a moment longer, watching the way you curled into yourself, like you were trying to disappear. every instinct in him told him to go to you, but he hesitated, unsure if his words would even matter. still, he couldnât just leave you like this.
he finally pushed off the tree and walked over, his boots crunching softly against the dirt. he lowered himself to the ground beside you, sitting close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that heâd crowd you.
for a while, neither of you said anything. the fire crackled between you, the only sound breaking the silence of the night. daryl wasnât sure how to start, wasnât good with words even on the best of days. but he knew you, and he knew the way you got when things started to spiral out of control in your head.
âyou donât gotta shut us out, yâknow,â he finally said, his voice gruff but soft. âweâre all here for ya.â
you didnât respond at first, your eyes still fixed on the flames like they held some kind of answer you were searching for. after a long moment, you sighed, your voice barely a whisper. âiâm tired, daryl.â
those words hit him like a punch to the gut. heâd seen people break before, seen the way this world could wear someone down until there was nothing left. but hearing you say it, seeing you like thisâit scared him more than he wanted to admit.
âi know,â he said quietly. âwe all are. but weâre still fightinâ. youâre still fightinâ.â
you shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. âi donât know if i can anymore. every day feels like itâs getting harder. like⊠like iâm losing pieces of myself.â
darylâs chest tightened. heâd always admired your strength, the way you kept going no matter how hard things got. but now, hearing you say you were falling apartâit made him realize just how much he hadnât noticed.
âyou ainât losinâ yourself,â he said, his voice firm but gentle. âyouâre still here. weâre still here.â
you swallowed hard, tears brimming in your eyes. âi feel like iâm drowning. like no matter what i do, itâs never enough. i canât save everyone, daryl.â
that was it, wasnât it? the burden you carried, the weight of trying to protect everyone, to hold the group together when everything was falling apart. it was breaking you.
daryl shifted closer, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm, hesitant at first, but firm once it was there. âyou donât gotta save everyone. that ainât on you.â
your voice cracked as you spoke, the tears spilling over now. âbut if i donât⊠who will?â
darylâs heart clenched at the raw pain in your voice. he wished he had the right words, wished he could take that weight off your shoulders. but he knew he couldnât fix everything. what he could do, though, was remind you that you werenât alone.
âyou donât have to,â he said, his thumb gently brushing your arm in a way that was more comforting than he realized. âweâre all in this together. you ainât gotta carry the world by yourself.â
you turned to look at him, and the vulnerability in your eyes nearly broke him. he wasnât used to seeing you like this, so lost and fragile. he hated it. he hated that you felt like you had to carry the world alone, that you felt like you were drowning.
âi donât know how to stop feeling like this,â you whispered, your voice shaking. âeverything feels so heavy.â
daryl swallowed hard, his own heart aching at how much pain you were in. he didnât know how to take that pain away, but he could be there for you. he could be the one thing you could hold on to when everything else felt like it was slipping away.
âyou ainât alone,â he said, his voice low but steady. âyou got me. no matter what, you got me.â
you looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe just a little easier. his words were simple, but they grounded you. daryl had always been your anchor, and in this moment, you needed him more than ever.
without thinking, you leaned into him, your forehead resting against his shoulder as the tears came harder, your body shaking with the force of them. daryl didnât hesitate. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back.
âlet it out,â he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. âitâs okay. i got ya.â
and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself fall apart. you let the tears come, let the pain youâd been holding in for so long spill out. daryl didnât say anything more, didnât need to. he just held you, his presence steady and unwavering, letting you know without words that you didnât have to carry this burden alone.
the fire crackled softly beside you, but the world felt a little less cold with daryl holding you. you werenât okay. you werenât sure whenâor ifâyouâd ever be okay again. but for now, in his arms, you felt like you didnât have to be.
and maybe that was enough.
#đŠ â vi writes#đč â daryl dixon#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon imagines#daryl dixon oneshot#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon drabble#daryl dixon headcanon#twd daryl dixon#the walking dead#the walking dead imagine#the walking dead imagines#the walking dead oneshot#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead drabble#the walking dead headcanon#twd#twd imagine#twd imagines#twd oneshot#twd fanfic#twd fanfiction#twd drabble#twd headcanon
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