#but perhaps there is a limit—even for friends. perhaps the limit for him are those car doors.

[braceletofteeth]

2 times Suzaki watched Amagai leave without him

+ 1 time they left together

[swytdoll]

BRAT TAMER! 𝜗𝜚

sum𝜗𝜚 toji despises working. he'd rather be off gambling, losing himself in the thrill and chaos of the games. but then he meets you, his new client's spoiled daughter. it's okay, though... he's a brat tamer.

wc𝜗𝜚 6.6k [oopsie]

warnings𝜗𝜚 SEMI PROOF-READ, older!pervtoji, masterbation, fingering, female + male oral, cum eating, squirting, creaming, choking, spitting, explicit language, toji is kind of mean, reader is annoying, age-gap [reader is 19 toji is 35] just a whole lot of nasty shit, enjoy hornies!

Toji Zenin really hated working. The same boring tasks, the long hours, the wear and tear on his body, and the relentless sun made every day feel like a drag. But there was one thing that made it all a bit more bearable: his client. More specifically, his client’s daughter. Sure, it was a bit taboo to have thoughts about a girl so much younger, but he couldn’t help himself.

Those shorts of yours were always way too tight, hugging your curves like they were made for you. And those shirts? Toji was pretty sure you didn’t even own a bra, especially with how your nipples would poke through the fabric whenever he caught a glimpse of you.

You had no shame, showing off that gorgeous body and cute face at every opportunity. It was like you wanted to be noticed in those revealing outfits, strutting around in swimsuits that left little to the imagination. He’d even seen your pussy lips once as you’d bent down near the pool, he remembers because he’d spent the entirety of his lunch break fisting his raging boner in a hot portable toilet.

Not exactly his finest hour.

You were undeniably a brat, completely indulged by your widowed father who was eager to fulfill every whim of his precious daughter. With wealth, a stunning home, a devoted dad, and your charming looks, it was no surprise that you carried the air of entitlement. Toji, however, found a certain appeal in your spoiled nature; he preferred you as a brat rather than a timid wallflower. From his perspective, brats were easier to tame. Most days, he found himself lost in fantasies of you. Daydreaming about your pretty little cunt warped about his cock.

It frustrated him how deeply you had woven yourself into his life. He couldn’t even get into it with his casual fling anymore unless he pictured you, and man, did that feel amazing.

"Dad!"

Speak of the Devil. The sound of your voice filled the air just as the front gate slammed behind you. Fresh from your weekly shopping spree with friends, you made your entrance. Toji felt a surge of frustration as the sharp click of your heels echoed on the cement. He turned away from his work space, his gaze fixed on you as you sauntered over, your hips swaying and oversized sunglasses perched on your nose.

He couldn't help but observe as you approached your father, a look of irritation etched on your face. Perhaps you had finally hit your credit card limit. With a sulky pout and arms crossed beneath your perky breasts, you pushed them up, and his thoughts spiraled.

Toji wanted nothing more than to rip the tank top off your body, pull your nipples between his fingers and twist them until you were crying.

"My card was declined!"

Toji struggled to suppress a laugh, biting down on the inside of his cheek. What a foolish little brat. Your father shot you a disapproving glance, and you let out an exasperated huff, stomping your foot like the spoiled child you were.

"I was at the mall trying to buy a cute dress, and the card didn't go through! So, I called the bank and they said it was declined!"

Your father sighed, and Toji could have sworn he saw the old man roll his eyes. He must have been fed up with having to coddle an adult woman.

"Listen, sweetheart. I already mentioned that I won't be giving you another allowance until next week. Perhaps it's time you learned how to manage your money, or maybe I should restrict your card usage. Clearly, this isn't working out." You gasped in response, and Toji couldn't help but feel a bit taken aback.

Maybe your dad wasn't as soft as he seemed. He felt a twinge of sympathy for him, having to handle a spoiled daughter like you.

“That's so unfair!" You cried, turning away from your dad, arms flailing and he swore he saw you kick a rock like a toddler having a tantrum. "I hate this fucking place! It's so hot and the bugs are everywhere. I can't stand it! Shopping is the only thing that keeps me sane." You yelled.

He noticed your dad wince, and Toji could already picture the headache brewing in the man's mind. "Mind your language," he said calmly, but you just scoffed.

"Or what?"

Toji could predict how this would unfold. Your dad would let out a resigned sigh and give in, while you'd strut away with a triumphant grin.

"Go to your room; you're done for the day. Sit there and think about your behavior. You're clearly too worked up," he said, and you stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?" you yelled, and he shook his head.

"I mean it. You're too agitated, and I don't want you to say or do something you'll regret later. Please, just go to your room," he insisted, and Toji had to suppress a laugh. It was clear you were at a loss for how to respond. You stomped your feet again and huffed in frustration.

"Fine."

As you marched toward your room, the sound of your heels echoed sharply, culminating in a loud slam of the door. Your father exhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose while muttering softly to himself. "Kids..." he murmured, glancing at Toji with a sympathetic expression.

"I apologize for that. She's dealing with a lot at the moment." Toji responded with a reassuring shake of his head. "It's all good," he said, prompting a smile from your father.

“Thank you Toji. You’re a great guy, and you’ve done an amazing job with building the shed so far.”

“Thanks, sir,” he responded. Your dad turned his gaze toward your bedroom window, and Toji’s eyes followed suit. You were anxiously pacing, phone pressed to your ear, a scowl etched on your face. Your father frowned, and Toji cleared his throat, feeling the tension in the air.

Toji had never really had a conversation with you, and the only time he did, you had unleashed a torrent of curses at him. It was his first day on the job, and you had come down wearing nothing but a silk pink robe, clearly annoyed at being stirred from your sleep so early in the morning.

He stood there, taking in the sight of you descending the steps, the silk draping around your figure. He could see the gentle curves of your body, the outline of your bare breasts, the shape of your hips, and the smoothness of your legs.

"Do you realize how ridiculously early it is? It's seven, you dick!" You shot, glaring at Toji with a fiery intensity. He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your attitude. It was obvious you were still in the process of waking up, not fully aware of who was standing there.

"Miss, I recommend you mind your language," he replied, and he could have sworn he noticed a shiver run through you. Your lovely lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping, and Toji had to fight the urge to grin. So, you enjoyed being spoken to like that. He cleared his throat and stepped closer, looking down at you with a playful smirk.

He didn’t spare you a second glance, not even flinching when the front door slammed shut behind you. From that moment on, you shot him daggers every time he crossed your path, throwing out sarcastic remarks whenever your father was out of earshot. Your behavior only escalated, and Toji was certain your dad was on the verge of exploding. But Toji believed he could change you; he was confident he could take that defiant attitude and transform it. He was certain of it. He would fuck that ego right out of you and mold it into a perfect little slut, ready and willing to please him.

"I still have a few tasks to finish up around the house. Thanks again, Toji," your father remarked, and Toji simply nodded.

"Absolutely."

The two shared a smile and the older man went back inside, leaving Toji to his thoughts. His mind wandered to all the possibilities and ways he could take you apart. He could see it now, his large hand holding yours down, forcing you to stay still as he pounded into your tight cunt. His other hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing tight as he made you cum, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. He'd pull out and force his cock down your throat, forcing you to choke on him. He'd fill you with his seed, spilling everything down your throat, watching as you swallowed his hot cum, a blissful look on your face.

God, the thoughts were intoxicating.

He would break you, mold you, bend you, and make you his own personal toy. You were going to be his.

He would make sure of it.

Your father had kept his promise; he had cut off your credit card and confined you to the house. It felt like a never-ending limbo. Most of your days were spent buried in a cheesy romance novel by the pool or dozing off. For the past few weeks, your dad had been working late, leaving you to dine solo and binge-watch reruns of old TV shows. It was downright dismal.

He even spent his evenings holed up in his office, tackling whatever tasks awaited him. The atmosphere was heavy with loneliness. You could sense his disappointment in your behavior, but who could really blame you? This house was a snooze fest. While your friends were off enjoying their summer adventures, you were stuck here.

They couldn’t even swing by to visit because of their packed schedules. Still, they called regularly, sharing tales of their escapades and new crushes. You appreciated their efforts to keep you in the loop, but those conversations only filled the emptiness for so long.

Today, you decided to lounge by the pool, soaking up the sun on a comfy chair. You donned your favorite bikini, a stylish white and gold set, the straps loosely tied, barely holding everything in place. The high-waisted bottoms accentuated your curves perfectly. Beside you, a refreshing glass of lemonade and a colorful mix of fruits—cherries, pineapples, and more—sat waiting. Your book lay on your stomach, eager for your attention once more.

The pool was stunning, and it had always been one of your favorite places to escape to. The water sparkled like crystal, the waterfall cascaded beautifully, and the palm trees swayed gently above. It was the sole reason you tolerated living in such a sweltering climate. However, there was one major drawback: the man who is building the shed. Toji, you learned was his name.

You couldn't stand him. He was insufferably rude and full of himself. His looks only made matters worse. You despised how incredibly handsome he was. You had never encountered a man so striking before. The definition of his arms, the chiseled jawline, and the width of his shoulders were infuriating.

His dark eyes, sun-kissed skin, and flowing dark hair only added to your irritation. It was maddening how flawless he appeared. Just the thought of him made your blood boil. He was so self-satisfied and arrogant, and the way he acted like he was superior to you drove you up the wall.

“Whatcha reading?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, glancing over to find Toji casually leaning against the patio door, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His white button-up shirt was rolled up, showcasing his well-defined arms. A warm flush crept across your cheeks. Why the fuck was he so handsome?

"What do you want?" you shot back, setting your book aside.

"I just wanted to see if you needed anything," he said, striding over to the chair beside you and pulling it closer. "Your dad mentioned he’d be working late and I thought I could order dinner for you," he added, a hint of mischief in his tone, causing your brows to knit together in confusion.

"Why the hell would you order dinner for me? I can do it myself.”

"Because I'm a nice guy, and it would suck for a pretty girl like you to have to fend for herself." He responded, a sly smile on his lips and you couldn't help the small shiver that went down your spine. You shook the thoughts from your head and rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, right. You just want to get in my pants. Don't try to act like a good guy, I know exactly who you are. My dad's a great guy, he'd never hire a creep like you."

"Is that what you think?"

You didn't answer, a scowl forming on your face.

"Well, if I'm a creep, then what does that make you?"

"What?"

"Come on, don't act dumb. I know you get off on teasing me."

"You're a fucking pervert.”

"Maybe."

His grin was wolfish, and he looked predatory, leaning forward and staring you down. "Tell me, have you been a good girl lately? Or have you been naughty?"

"I-"

"You've been very bratty lately. I know your dad's getting sick of it."

You swallowed thickly, a blush coating your cheeks. How could he read you so well?

"But, don't worry. I can fix you."

"Fix me? What are you talking about?"

"You're spoiled. And I'll change that."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know you want it. I can tell."

He leaned back, his arm resting on the back of the chair.

"And, if you're good, I'll reward you."

"Reward me?"

He grinned and nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips against your ear.

"Yes. If you're a good girl, I'll fuck you like the slut you are."

He pulled back, the grin never leaving his face.

"Think about it, princess."

He winked, standing up and turning away, a chuckle leaving him.

You were speechless, your heart racing, and a blush coloring your cheeks. The heat pooled between your legs and you shifted. What the fuck was wrong with him? Did he really think you would let him fuck you?

Who were you kidding, you were already soaked.

"Dick..." You muttered, shaking your head.

That night, you couldn't get him out of your head. The way his words had sent shivers down your spine, the way his gaze had been filled with lust. It was so...wrong, but it was a wrong you wanted. You didn't care, and the idea of getting caught only added to the thrill. You'd already spent an hour in the shower, the warm water and the detachable shower head bringing you to orgasm after orgasm. You could still hear his voice, the raspy tone, the way his words dripped with sex and lust. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew he had you right where he wanted. You could hear his chuckle echoing in your head, his grin filling your mind.

It was sad, really.

How could a man you didn't even like have this effect on you?

It was ridiculous.

You couldn't believe you were letting him get into your mind.

He was a fucking creep.

A handsome, sexy, confident creep.

A sudden knock at the door jolted you from your reverie, causing you to startle and sit up abruptly. You quickly snatched a towel, wrapping its comforting softness around you before swinging the door open. There he stood, the man who had been lingering in your thoughts.

" What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I brought the pizza. I told you I was getting dinner." He replied, a grin on his lips and you scoffed.

"Why did you bring it up here?"

"I was trying to be nice, and besides. I didn't know when your dad was going to be home."

He stepped forward, forcing his way into the room, and setting the box down on the bed.

"You're such a dick." You muttered, crossing your arms.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong with me bringing food to the boss' daughter?"

"Nothing. But, that's not why you're here."

"And, what do you think I'm here for?"

"Don't play dumb, you already told me."

"Oh, is that right?" He chuckled. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?"

You were taken aback by his sudden question, your eyes widening.

"Whaa—No, I don't."

"Then, why are you so wet?"

“I just got out of the shower wise guy. Get out.”

He grinned and stepped closer, and you took a step back.

"Y’know, the walls are thin. So, it's easy to hear the moans and gasps of a girl when she touches herself. But, hey. What would I know? I'm just a construction guy."

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. Had he really heard you masturbate?

"S-shut up. I don't know what you're talking about.” You felt your heart race and the towel slip down slightly. You moved to fix it, and he stepped forward, his hand moving towards your neck.

"Let me take care of that for you."

He gripped the towel, his lips crashing onto yours in a passionate kiss. There was a fierce hunger in him, as he explored your mouth with fervor. His tongue danced inside, teasing the roof of your mouth. Meanwhile, his other hand found its way to your breasts, fingers pinching your nipple with a playful intensity earning a whine from you. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down to your neck, planting soft kisses that turned into gentle bites on your sensitive skin. As he pulled back, a satisfied grin spread across his face as he gazed down at you.

"Get on the bed."

"Wha-what?"

"Get on the bed."

You were surprised by his commanding tone, and you could feel your cunt aching. You walked towards the bed, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress and you fell back. You looked up at him, and he smiled.

"Take off the towel."

You did as he said, pulling the towel away and revealing your naked body. He licked his lips, a hungry expression in his eyes.

"Touch yourself."

Your hands moved to your breasts, cupping the mounds and rolling your nipples between your fingers. You let out a soft gasp, your head falling back. you began to rub your sensitive clit. You were already wet, the thought of being watched had made you dripping. The pleasure that shot through you made your knees weak and your eyes fluttered closed.

You heard his voice again, this time closer to your ear and you shuddered.

"Good girl."

“Oh god..."

"Spread your legs wider."

You whimpered, moving your legs farther apart and you sank a finger inside of you. Your body quivered as you slowly began pumping your hand and the warmth began to build in your belly.

"Yes...that's it."

You cried out softly as you slipped another finger inside of you, pumping them faster and faster. Your body tingled. Toji watched, his cock aching for release in his pants. You looked so slutty spread out for him like this, slickness leaking down your ass. He wanted to shove his dick into your hot, tight pussy, but he restrained himself. You were his to command.

"Faster. Fuck yourself faster."

"Nghh...I-I..."

"Come for me, kitten."

You moaned, your walls clenching around your fingers. You were already sore from your previous orgasms, but you felt another one quickly coming. You moved your hips, trying to get more friction.

"That's right. Ride your hand like a little whore. Cum for me. Now."

"A-Ahh!"

Your hips bucked against your hand and you came, squirting over your fingers and onto the floor. Your chest heaved, your body trembling as you sank down into the matress.

Toji growled lowly, the sight of your glistening pussy and the smell of your sex made him feel dizzy. He pulled his hard cock out of his pants and stroked it quickly, his thumb rubbing over his fat tip. You felt him climb onto the bed and his hand gripped the back of your neck.

"Open your mouth."

You obeyed, gasping as you felt him rub the head of his cock against your tongue. He pumped his hand, thrusting into your mouth and making you gag. Your jaw ached as he fucked your mouth.

"Take my cock...nghh."

Toji groaned, his eyes closed and his face scrunched up. You could feel him twitching on your tongue. You moaned around him, sending a wave of pleasure through him. His hand squeezed the back of your neck tighter.

"Suck harder ughh."

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he forced his entire length down your throat, the tip of his cock touching the back of your tongue. Tears formed in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you struggled to breathe.

"Mmghhh."

You tried to relax your throat, sucking on his cock the best you could. Your hands clenched the sheets.

"That's a good girl."

He grunted, his cock pulsating.

"M-Mmm You take me so well, kitten.”

You were drooling, spit and precum dribbling down your chin. It was disgusting. He pulled back and you took a deep inhale.

"Did I tell you to stop?"

"N-no."

"No, what?"

"No, sir."

"Then get back to work."

"Yes, sir."

He growled and thrust his hips.

"Good, baby."

He groaned, hands finding themselves in your hair.

"Fuck. I'm gonna come soon. You ready for me, baby? Gonna swallow every drop?"

"Yes, please."

"Good, good girl."

His thrusts became faster and more erratic, his breathing shallow.

"Ahh. Fuck, yeah. G’na come."

He hated how fast he was nearing his end, but the way you gobbled him down and squeezed his balls in time with your tongue had him spiraling. Your every movement was calculated, each flick of your tongue and squeeze of your hand driving him closer to the edge. He could feel the tension building within him, a mix of pleasure and desperation that left him breathless. The intensity of your touch, combined with your unwavering eye contact, made it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

“Ughhhh fuckkkkk!” He threw his head back and came, shooting thick ropes of his hot seed down your throat. You swallowed, moaning and milking him for everything he had. You felt him shiver, his muscles tensing as he came down. He looked down at you, his eyes dark and wild.

He grabbed you by the arm, yanking you up to your feet and crushing his mouth to yours. You could feel the heat from his body and you melted against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His hands were all over you, his lips on your neck. He was heavy and hot, pressing you into the mattress. He kissed his way down your chest and stomach, his fingers brushing the wet folds of your pussy.

"Toji!”

"Mm, you're still so wet."

"F-for youuuu."

"You like being touched like this?"

"Uh huh."

He slipped a finger inside of you, his thumb brushing your clit. You whined, as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting it gently. You writhed underneath him, his name a constant prayer. He added another finger, stretching you, finding that special gummy spot. You arched your back, moaning loudly.

A desperate whine leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls away, tucking his cock back into his pants. You look up at him, pouting.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You didn't fuck me."

"That wasn't the plan, princess."

"I hate you. Pervert.”

He chuckles, patting your thigh.

"No, you don't."

He gets up and walks out of the room, leaving you panting and unsatisfied.

"Fucking dick.”

Toji had you completely under his spell. His piercing gaze and self-assured presence made it impossible for you to look away. Each time you attempted to shift your focus elsewhere, your mind would inevitably circle back to him. The way he moved, the way he spoke—everything about him was magnetic, pulling you in deeper.

He was aware of the effect he had on you. A glimmer of satisfaction danced in his eyes whenever he caught you watching him. It was as if he relished the control he held, knowing you were utterly entranced by his aura. Despite your attempts to fight it, a rush of excitement coursed through you every time he was close.

It became a familiar pattern where Toji would bend you over, his fingers exploring you until you either squirted or cried out his name in ecstasy. Yet, he never crossed that final line, leaving you both frustrated and yearning. Your father noticed your newfound cheerfulness, but you brushed it off with a casual shrug. Eventually, he returned your credit card and lifted your grounding, but your thoughts remained consumed by Toji.

“Oh yeah honey, I invited Toji over for dinner.”

You froze, and looked up from the raw chicken.

"What? Why?"

"I wanted to thank him for helping us out, he’s done a great job. Don’t ya think?”

"Why can't we just send him a gift basket or something?"

"Because that would be rude. Besides, he's a nice guy. He deserves to be treated like a guest."

You sighed and tightened your grip on the meat tenderizer. The truth was, you hadn’t spoken to Toji in days; he seemed to be keeping his distance. The thought of being in the same space with him was daunting, especially after everything that had happened between you two.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart. Surely, he wouldn’t do anything with your father around, right? You shook off the thought and concentrated on your cooking, but the anxiety swirling in your chest was hard to ignore.

When Toji finally entered the dining room, you were a bundle of nerves. A mix of excitement and dread washed over you as he stepped inside. His mere presence seemed to dominate the room, and you struggled to keep your eyes from lingering on him.

"Hey, thanks for inviting me."

"Of course, Toji. It's the least we could do."

You kept your head down and focused on your food the entire night, ignoring the urge to look at him.

"You okay, pumpkin? You're very quiet tonight."

"I'm fine."

"She's probably just tired." Toji said.

Your eyes grew wide as you locked eyes with him, feeling the intensity of his stare pierce through you, sending your heart into a frenzy. The urge to reach out and slap him was strong, but you knew better than to provoke your father’s suspicion. So, you bit your tongue and focused on your meal instead.

Once dinner was over, your father retreated to his study, Toji having promised to clean up, leaving you two in an awkward silence. The tension in the room was palpable, with both of you at a loss for words. You felt an overwhelming desire to shout at him, to accuse him of being a creep and to have used you. To demand he leave, but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, you remained there, simmering with frustration.

At last, he shattered the stillness.

"So, how are you liking the new semester?"

"Fine."

"Any problems?"

"No."

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Listen, I know you're mad at me."

"Mad? I'm fucking furious. What the fuck is your deal, Toji? You get me hooked then you go ghost?”

"Hooked?"

"You know what I mean."

He chuckled, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. "It was just a bit of fun. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Bullshit. I'm not stupid. Why are you playing with me?"

He locks his hands under his chin. "I'm not playing with you."

You glared. "Yes, you are. I can see it in your eyes. You want me."

He sighed and shook his head.

"You're a kid. It would be inappropriate."

"I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, you are. Look, it's nothing personal. I just don't date girls like you."

"Girls like me?"

"Rich kids with their own personal army."

"I'm not-"

"Save it. I know who your dad is. I'm not interested in getting mixed up in his business, it was a mistake doing those things with you."

You swallowed thickly, his words like a slap.

"Then why the hell are you here?"

"Because I was invited."

"You're such a dick."

You were angry, but you couldn't help but notice how his eyes seemed to darken. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing as you. What it would be like to have him pin you down and fuck you. The thought made your cheeks flush.

"You know, I bet if I told your father what we'd been doing, he'd have a very different opinion of you."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. Just a reminder. Don't forget who's in charge here."

"Fuck you."

"I don't fuck little girls."

You could feel your anger rising, and you were tempted to throw something at him. But you knew he was right. He was in control, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"So, what now? Are we just going to pretend like nothing happened?"

"If that's what you want."

"I don't know what I want."

"Well, then I guess we're at an impasse."

"I hate you."

"Don't be dramatic. You barely know me."

"I know enough. You're a jerk and a bully."

"And you're a spoiled brat who needs to learn some respect."

You scoffed at him, clenching your fists.

"Don't push me, princess."

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I can think of a few things." He quipped.

His eyes were dark and full of promise, and you could feel yourself growing wet.

"I bet."

"You wanna find out?"

“What I want is to slap that grin off your stupid face."

"Slap me. Do it."

"No."

"Why not? Too scared?"

"No."

"Then do it." He urges.

"Stop it."

"What? You're the one who's always pushing my buttons. Come on, princess. Show me what you got."

You stand and lift your hand, striking him sharply across the face, the crack resonating throughout the room. A sharp intake of breath escaped you, and your eyes widened in shock. His cheek flushed crimson, clearly marked by the outline of your hand. He smirked and ran his tongue over his lips.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You're an asshole."

"Yeah, and you're a spoiled bitch who likes to get fucked with my fingers."

You could feel your face flush, and you turned away from him.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Fine. Go fuck yourself." You sigh.

"Nah, I think I'll have you do it."

He chuckled, his voice deep and low.

"Oh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You snapped.

"No. Not with you. Never."

"Really? Not even a little?"

"Not even a little." You rolled your eyes.

"Come on, princess. You can't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. I can practically smell the desire on you."

"Shut up."

"Why? Because I'm right?"

"No, because you're annoying."

"So, you're not interested? Not even a little?"

"Fuck you, bipolar ass."

"Ooh, feisty. I like it."

"I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual, sweetheart."

He was the one with the upper hand, and there was nothing you could do about it. He stands up from the table, face inches from yours. “Ya think if fucked you on this table lil ol’ daddy would hear?” You felt your pulse quicken, and a wave of arousal wash over you. "What? No snarky comeback?"

"You're a fucking pig."

"I might be, but at least I'm honest about it. Unlike you."

He stepped closer, his body pressing against yours. "Tell me, princess. Do you like the idea of being fucked on your family's expensive table?" You could feel his erection pressing against your hip, and you could barely contain the moan that threatened to escape.

"Tell me. Is this turning you on? The idea of being used like a cheap whore, your father just down the hall."

"Fuck you." You shakily breathe out. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to bend you over and fuck your tight little pussy. Make you scream my name while your daddy is sipping his scotch, completely oblivious."

"Enough Toji.”

"What's the matter, princess? Don't want your daddy to know what a dirty little slut you are? How you’re fucking a grimy old man.”

"I'm not a slut."

"Could've fooled me. With the way you're always begging for my cock."

"I am not!"

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. We both know the truth."

You could feel your face burning, and you were desperate to put some distance between the two of you. But his body was like a brick wall, and you couldn't move.

"Get off of me."

"Why? Afraid you might enjoy it?"

"You’re…disgusting"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I bent you over and fucked you right here, right now. Made you scream so loud your daddy would come running. Wouldn't that be fun?"

You were furious, but the truth was, his words were turning you on. You couldn't deny the heat that was pooling between your legs, or the way your nipples were straining against your shirt.

"What's wrong, princess? Cat got your tongue?"

"Fuck. You."

"Mm, that's more like it."

His hand snaked up your shirt, his fingers grazing your nipples. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips, and you cursed yourself for being so weak.

"That's right, baby. Let me hear you."

"Stop it."

"Why? You don't like it?"

"No."

"Liar."

He squeezed your left bud, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out. "You like that, don't you? You like being manhandled by a real man. Not some preppy rich boy."

"Please."

"Please, what? Stop? Or keep going?"

"Keep…going."

"That's what I thought."

His hand dipped lower. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you wore this skirt for him. For easy access, of course. The way it hugged your curves, the way it rode up just enough to tease him, it was all too perfect. He couldn't help but think you knew exactly what you were doing. His hands slid up your thighs, feeling the soft fabric and the warmth of your skin beneath. As he lifted the skirt higher, his breath hitched, and he couldn't wait to ruin you. His fingers brushing against the growing wet spot on your pink laced panties.

"Such a dirty little slut. Look at you, already soaking wet and I've barely touched you."

"Fuck."

"Mmm, you want that, don't you? You want me to fuck you. Right here. Right now. In your daddy's house. Where he could walk in any minute and catch us."

"Please."

"Beg me."

"Please, fuck me."

"Good girl."

He pressed his thumb against your clit, and you mewled in pleasure.

“So loud, no respect."

You gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady yourself as he continued to assault your senses. His fingers were relentless, teasing and stroking, and soon, you were a writhing mess.

”Open your mouth.” he commands, a mischievous glint in his eyes. your mind is foggy, and you find yourself following his directions, opening your mouth slightly. You winch as his fingers dig into your cheeks, a glob of spit trickling from his mouth into yours. You can taste the acidity and bitterness as it slides down your throat. Your mind screams to pull away, but your body ignores it. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, his fingers leaving your face to grip your hair tightly.

The first slap sends your head flying, a dull ache beginning in the right side of your skull. He holds you in place and slaps you again, this time your teeth cut into your lip and the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. His eyes narrow, the grip on your hair tightening.

“Gonna fix you.”

"Please. Please."

"What? What do you want, princess?"

"I want… I want you."

"You want me to fuck you? To make you come?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"Say it."

"Please, fuck me."

He pushed your panties aside, his fingers delving into your slick heat. You sobbed, unable to contain the pleasure coursing through your body. He smirked, watching your expression as he slowly finger-fucked you.

"God, you're so fucking wet."

"Please. Please, don't stop."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He added another finger, stretching you further. You grunted out, the sensation almost too much to bear. Toji presses the sloppiest kisses on your neck as he finger fucks you, pad of his thumb still working your sticky clit. You know it’s risky to be doing this, your father could come out at any moment. But, when Toji’s slender fingers prod into your mushy pussy, all rationality leaves your mind. All you can think about is his fingers pumping in and out of you.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel your orgasm building slowly but surely. Your toes curl, and your body begins to shake. You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying desperately to ground yourself. He continues his assault on your pussy, his fingers moving in and out of you at a rapid pace. “Ah she’s gushin’ all over me.” He laughs, watching your body spasm.

“Toji…please."

"Please what, princess?"

"I need...I need..."

"What? Tell me."

"I need to come."

"Not yet."

"Please. Please, I'm begging you."

"Oh, I love it when you beg. But not yet."

He withdraws his fingers, and you whimper at the loss. He smirks and sucks his digits, licking the juices from them. You can't help but stare at him, transfixed by his movements.

"God, you taste good. I could eat this pussy all day."

"Please."

"Patience, princess."

He turns you around and bends you over the table, your ass in the air. You can feel his erection pressing against your leg, and you know he wants this as much as you do. He pulls down up your skirt and frees his cock. It's big and thick, and you can't help but lick your lips. He strokes himself a few times, coating his cock with your juices as he slaps it on your pussy.

He rubs the head of his cock against your wet slit, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. You can't believe how turned on you are, how desperate you are to feel him inside of you. "Fuck me. Please, fuck me."

He has to clamp a hand over your mouth when he begins sheltering his beefy length into your cunt. Your scream is muffled by his hand, and he slowly pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and you can't help but clench around him. He grunts, his grip on your hips tightening with his free hand.

"God, princess, your pussy is so fucking tight."

You can't help but push back against him, wanting him deeper. despite the searing pain between your legs. He continues his assault on your pussy, thrusting in and out of you. Your moans are muffled by his hand, eyes rolling back into your head. It feels so good, “Shittt—ughm, can’t have you getting us caught.”

Toji whispers into your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

He removes his hand from your mouth and wraps it around your throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"God, you're so fucking hot."

You can't form words, the pleasure taking over.

He squeezes so hard you think you might pass out, but then his hand is gone, and he's pounding into you at a frenzied pace. "Fucking hell." He groans, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room.

You try to stifle your moans, but it's no use. He's relentless, driving into you again and again, his cock hitting all the right spots. You feel like heaven around him, walls constricting around his aching cock. He can't believe how lucky he is to have a little cockslut like you.

He fucks into you with reckless abandon, the table scraping against the floor. The sound of skin slapping now deafening, and the smell of sex permeates the air.

He reaches around and rubs your clit, tears streaming down your face.

"That's right, princess. Take it."

Your entire body is shaking, the pressure building until it's unbearable. He removes his hand from your throat and slaps your ass, the sharp pain pushing you closer towards the edge. You cry out. “ Q-Quie—“ he’s cutting you off as he slams his cock deep into you, the force of his thrust causing the table to squeak and shudder. “Shut up. Talk t-to much.” He mutters, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth.

The taste of yourself on his fingers sends you spiraling into oblivion. Your pussy clenches around him, and he groans.

"Oh fuck."

He pounds into you, his own release imminent.

"Gonna fill this little pussy with my cum."

He grips your hips tightly now with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "Toji. Toji. Oh, fuck. Fuck." You cry out, stars exploding behind your eyes as your orgasm tears through you.

He groans and buries his cock deep inside of you, then he’s retracting. Thick white cream built at the base of his shaft, coating his cock in slickness. His eyes roll back at the sight of the pearlescent liquid smeared along his length. A thick layer coats his hand as he slides his fist along his member, his fingers moving easily from the wetness.

His balls draw up as his pleasure increases, his ass clenching with his need for release. Once again, you’ve got him cumming in under ten minutes. He hates it, but damn you feel so good.

"Fuckin’ killin me, can’t last with you.” He groans as he shoots his load on your ass.

You lay there, panting, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck. You're perfect, princess."

You can't help but moan as he spreads your pussy from behind, his tongue lapping up the mixture of your juices.

"Tastes so good. I can't get enough."

You can't speak, the sensation too much for your spent body.

He continues his assault on your pussy until you're a whimpering mess, begging him to stop. He finally relents, standing up and tucking himself back into his pants.

"I think we made quite the mess, princess."

He smirks, the sight of you bent over the table, his cum dripping down your thighs a beautiful sight to behold.

“You alright sweetheart?” You hear your father call, confused by the commotion.

“I’m fine! Just stuffed.”

Toji snickers, placing a kiss on your cheek whilst pulling your skirt down. You can't help but smile, knowing that this isn't the last time you'll have him inside of you. You'll make sure of it.

[luvrrszn]

behind closed doors

BROTHER'S BSF!THEO NOTT x FEM READER (18+)

summary you're his best friend's little sister—off-limits, right?

warnings smut, theo's mean, fluff, angst i guess, idk

a/n guysssssssssss new week new obsession......soz send help

masterlist

being your older brother's best friend, theo was at your house all the time.

that meant he'd see you almost every day. the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, floating around. so close yet so far, always out of reach.

he knew he'd never be able to have you, no, your brother would never allow that. so he did the only other thing he could think of—be mean to you.

so he tormented you every day. called you names, even waited on your bed for you to come home so he could insult you about something new. you suspected it was just his way of getting to see you every day.

he acts like you're the biggest pain in the ass, just his best friend's annoying little sister. but the second nobody's looking? his hands are on you.

—

sleeping with him is casual, no strings attached. theo sneaks out of your brother's room at night after he's fast asleep, making sure that he never ever finds out what's going on.

when your brother is finally out of town for the weekend, theo still comes over. the two of you are watching a movie on the tv in your room, lying on your bed. his arm is wrapped around your shoulder, your head leaning against his chest. his other hand traces up and down your inner thigh under the blanket.

it's one of those rare moments in the in-between.

in-between fucking and being at each others' throats.

theo's hand slips lower, toying with the waistband of your pink lace panties. he traces over your wet cunt, chuckling under his breath, "amore mio, you're dripping, just for me, huh?"

"shut u—" you're immediately silenced when theo plunges two long fingers into your pussy.

a smug smile spreads across his face, “you’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break my fingers aren’t ya? if your brother knew how much you think about me, he’d probably hex you himself.”

“t-theo, stop talking about my brother and start moving your damn fingers.” you pants, writhing against the palm of his hand, aching for some friction against your clit.

“as you wish, amore mio.”

—

one night, you’re sneaking back in after a party. your hair is disheveled, makeup smudged, slightly tipsy and boots in your hand as you try to close the front door as quietly as possible.

theo is the last person you expect to see. you curse under your breath. why is he always in your damn house?

the open kitchen layout gives him the perfect view of you sneaking back in at 3am. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, grey sweatpants hanging low, black tshirt hugging his biceps. he drinks from a glass of water, a dark look on his face.

you roll your eyes as you put your boots down on the floor, preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“a bit late, isn’t it, piccola?”

you roll your eyes and brush past him, opening the fridge to grab some orange juice. gulping down the juice, you reply, "it's really none of your business, nott."

wrong answer.

before you can react, he's in front of you, blocking your path. he's so much taller, broader than you. the amused glint in his eye is gone.

"see, that's where you're wrong," he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you meet his gaze, "it is absolutely my business, because we wouldn't want you messing around with young, dumb, horny boys would we?"

his forearms rest on either side of your head, pinning you against the refrigerator.

"oh yeah? and what are you?" you scoff.

"oh, bella, you already know the answer to that."

and you do. he's stronger, older, perhaps even more mature (when it comes to anything other than you) than whatever company you're keeping.

"i swear, you'd better not tell my brother about this." you groan, ducking under his arms as you beeline for the sink.

"there's no such thing as a free lunch, piccola."

and that's how you end up on your knees in your bedroom, short skirt hiked up as you gag around his fucking massive cock. his hands are tangled in your hair, mercilessly forcing you to take in every inch of him. tears stream down your face, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. you look like a mess, but at that moment as theo looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, he swears he's never seen a prettier girl than you.

you look up at theo and take in the sight before you. his head is thrown back, hair messy. his jaw is clenched, and he smirks at you. you run your hands over his chest and toned abs, clawing at his biceps.

he's perfect.

—

oh, and when he catches you at a party?

it's over.

he drags you out by your wrists, forcing you into his blacked-out mercedes. he's driving well over the speed limit, desperate to get off the road before he loses his shit.

he'd seen you dancing with some guy you knew from down the street, dress too short, too tight, too low-cut.

he has one hand on the steering wheel, another running through his hair as his jaw clenches.

"didn't take you for the easy type, but i guess i shouldn't be surprised. you're not special, you know. boys will say anything to get them what they want."

his words hit like a slap. your stomach twists, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding.

you want to ask what the hell he's talking about, but you already know.

he saw you dancing with that guy. saw the way his hands slid down your waist, how he leaned in close and whispered things in your ear. how you let out that sweet laugh, one that always made theo want to say "fuck it" and just kiss you in front of everyone. he saw the way you let it happen.

and he hated it.

and now he's punishing you for it.

when you remain silent, he continues, "you looked fucking ridiculous in there, you know that?"

and you feel so silly. to think that that evening, you'd picked out your favourite dress, made sure your makeup looked good, just in hopes that theo would notice you at that party.

"you're being cruel, theo. stop it." you murmur, turning to stare out of the window. you don't even notice that you've started crying.

when you finally notice, you wipe it away quickly. you hope that theo didn't notice, but of course he did. at that moment, he pulls into the driveway of your house, turning off the engine.

theodore nott has seen a lot of things—but he has never seen you cry like this. and definitely not because of him.

and it makes something in his chest clench.

"oh, for fuck’s sake—" his voice drops, no longer sharp but still frustrated. he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, like he’s angry at himself now, too.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, at the way you’re biting your lip, blinking rapidly, trying so hard to hold it in.

then? he moves.

his hand reaches for your thigh, fingers curling around it, grounding. not forceful, but firm.

"hey." his voice is softer now, rough but not cruel.

"don't do that. don't fucking cry over me."

you try to shift away, but theo's grip tightens. not rough—just enough to make you stay.

"i didn't mean—fuck." he sighs again, shaking his head.

his thumb brushes against your knee, almost like a reflex, and for the first time ever, he looks uncertain.

"look at me."

you don't. you can't.

so he makes you.

his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him.

he isn't angry anymore. not at you. not really. his jaw is still clenched, his brows furrowed, but now? he looks almost desperate. like he wants to fix everything he's done, but he doesn't know how.

"i didn't mean it like that, bella."

you sniff, voice shaking slightly, "then how did you mean it?"

and that's when he just sighs. a weak, defeated sigh escapes the big bully of a man.

"i just—fuck, i don’t want to see you with other guys, alright?"

"why? we're not anything. you've made it clear, multiple times."

silence follows. his grip tightens.

then, he finally speaks. rough, low, honest.

"because i want you to be mine."

for a moment, you just stare at him.

his confession hangs in the air between the two of you. you're still hurt, still pissed. but something inside you shifts.

"say it again." your voice is quieter now, still laced with frustration but weaker.

theo's jaw clenches. he’s not used to being this vulnerable. but he doesn’t look away.

"I want you to be mine."

and then he moves. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he hesitates for just a second, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.

but you don't.

so he kisses you.

it's not soft. not at first. it’s heated, desperate, full of all the tension that had been boiling between you. his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t—you kiss him back just as fiercely, hands tugging at his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

it’s messy and overwhelming and everything you’ve both been pretending not to want.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

"we’re so fucked," you whisper.

theo smirks, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “yeah. but you like it.”

and the worst part?

you do.

[munsster]

red wine supernova

A/N: guys... i know this is a sapphic song but hear me out on this one.... the lyrics go too well with eddie to ignore 😖 (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Bimbo!Reader

Summary: “Baby, why don't you come over? / Red wine supernova, falling into me” 2.9k words

Warnings: fluff, dumbass pining x2, best friends to lovers, a few kisses, broody & high eddie, cursing, pet names (teddy, bug), teenage boys, underage drinking/smoking

"Hi, teddy!"

It rings in his ears like church bells. Then Eddie sees you and you're drenched in golden sunlight even though it's afternoon and the school halls provide no source of natural light. So maybe you're just beautiful. A vision in go-go boots.

Totally not his type, though.

"Hey," Eddie sighs, exhuasted from the hour and a half English lecture he just suffered. Not to mention, he was already exhuasted from the fact that he barely slept the night before. Which was maybe, possibly, perhaps caused by his overthinking about that nice shade of lipstick you always wear.

"How was Lit?"

"Shit."

You giggle, "that rhymed!" His heart skips a beat.

You're side by side down the halls—you always walk to lunch together—and, like clockwork, you tease him about trying to hold your hand when his ringed fingers brush your wrist. Of course, he would. In a heartbeat, he'd have his fingers clasped with yours like that's what they are molded for. But people would stare, and that's more of a hassle than he’d prefer.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't actually give a shit about people staring at him, he just doesn't want to give anyone anymore reasons to stare at you. In disgust. Or loathing. With whatever judgements they'd make. Names they'd call you. He's been through the ringer, he'd never drag you along with him.

You're chattering about the state of your new, pink jellies when Eddie catches someone throwing you an off glance. He tries not to think too much of it, and he's not like jealous or anything, but every snicker and whisper sets him off. You're bubbly and kind and it's not fair people look at you different when you're with him.

"You ever notice how people look at us?"

You tilt your head at him as you round the corner of the cafeteria doors.

"You mean like how Dustin makes funny faces when I compliment your hair?"

"No, I mean like that," he huffs, pointing right at the judgemental stares of Melissa and Nicole, who promptly turn away with a gasp. He shakes his head. "And I like when you compliment my hair."

"Well, I like your hair." You smile at him as he pulls out a chair for you. You're the first ones to the table.

"Thank you, bug." Eddie ducks into his own seat, tapping his heavy fingers against the tabletop. "Off topic. I'm saying, you never notice people look at us... funny?"

The metal clasps of your limited edition Disco Fever lunchbox clack against the side as you unfold the lid. Your face contorts, considering the scenarios you've devised in your head if anyone was ever rude to Eddie in front of you. Let's just say your self-defense knowledge would come in handy.

"I guess I notice sometimes, but I just don't care. I like you lots more than I like them," you say, shrugging it off, "And I know how to fight."

His heart swells, face rosy, ears hot as an oven. Of course, you'd say that. You always know what to say.

Too bad you're not his type.

Dustin plops down in the seat across from you, nearly gagging at the way Eddie ogles at you.

"Would you get a fuckin' room already—!"

"Language," you both holler.

"Jinx!" you chirp. "You owe me a soda."

"I'll get you a soda, bug," Eddie hums. Dustin considers stocking his backpack with those little bags they give you on airplanes just in case.

...

"Weird Science or The Woman in Red?"

You're perched on the floor of his living room, wearing silk shorts and a cami. You weigh both tapes in your manicured hands like it'll tell you anything about the quality of the films inside.

"Somethin' to say about Kelly LeBrock, bug?"

"Steve suggested them! And he gave me a discount, so I couldn't just say no," you say with such a dazzling smile on your face, he thinks you're the nicest girl he's ever met. Or, at least, the nicest he's ever seen, no contest.

Just, not his type.

"Go figure," he says, "Weird Science."

"'Cause of the mutant bikers?" You beam up at him where he sits on the couch.

"'Cause of the mutant bikers."

It makes you giggle, which makes him smile like an idiot.

Then Hellfire pours onto Eddie's front porch bearing gifts of humongous chip bags and a six pack of cheap beer. He jumps a little at the doorbell, and you spring up to open the floodgates for the rowdy group of boys. They greet you excitedly and spread themselves across the rest of the couch, an armchair, and the floor.

Dustin tosses you a bag of pop rocks, and you blow a kiss in thanks, promising to bring him by the arcade next week. Eddie feels so far from you, even though your shoulders are pressed between his knees. But he can't see you or talk to you, your attention is divided, and he can't help but feel a little needy. You smack Dustin's hand when he reaches for a beer, and he whines about Mike sneaking one.

"What movie did the love birds choose?" Gareth asks. Eddie takes out a baggie of weed.

"Weird Science!" you coo, slotting the tape into the VCR. Gareth celebrates, sloshing his beer can against the coffee table as the rest of the boys high five and howl. You roll your eyes affectionately.

You laugh, smacking Jeff on the arm. “Oh, you’re all horny perverts.”

Gareth salutes, “At your service!” Which earns him a playful flick upside the head. The opening credits roll, and you stand triumphantly.

“I have to pee, but you guys can let it roll while I’m gone!” you chirp, skipping off down the hall of the mobile home.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, Dustin whips around to scowl at Eddie who exhales a slow puff from the neon pink bong you gifted him last year. He passes it to Gareth and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I can’t tell what’s worse,” Dustin huffs, “The fact that you’re so oblivious or the fact that she is, too.”

Eddie squints. “What?”

Dustin deadpans.

“Dude, even I can tell you two like each other,” Mike chimes in, “Will thought you were dating from two thousand miles away. Over the phone.”

“You guys are fucking high. We are not dating,” Eddie says.

Mike shrugs. “You should be.”

“Okay, twerp, I’m not taking romantic advice from someone in a long distance relationship.”

“He’s right,” Dustin barks.

“That means you, too, twerp. Besides. Not my type.” Eddie sighs and slumps into the cushions, reaching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, right,” Lucas says, “If she’s not your type, then who is?”

“I don’t know, but she’s not.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a lame excuse for your cowardice.” Eddie’s jaw drops, and he grabs for his bong.

“You did not just say that to me.”

“I meant it.”

You bumble back into the room, and the conversation screeches to a halt, Gareth whipping back towards the screen with Eddie’s eyes still burning holes in the back of his head.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” they grumble.

Eddie smiles when you plop down next to him on the creaky couch. He can’t focus on the movie with the stray glances he’s catching from the younger boys and the soft looks you offer every so often. Maybe he is gutless. Because when he thinks about you, he’s floored. Then—knee jerk—he has to justify his racing heart with the fact that he could never be into you. But he is. You’re beautiful and funny and sweet to him. You are his type.

Not halfway into the film, Dustin whines, “I’m bored. Can we play a game? Like spin the bottle or kiss marry kill or something?”

“First of all,” Eddie says, “there’s only one chick here, we’re not playing spin the bottle. Second, are you five years old?”

You scoff and pat Eddie on the thigh. “Hey! I’m with Dustin. Truth or dare?”

“Works for me,” Jeff interjects. Eddie glares at him, grabbing his bong from the table. “Truth or dare, Eddie.”

He exhales a puff of smoke, shaking his head.

“Truth”—The boys’ heads turn, wicked smiles on their faces like predators eyeing him up—“Fuck, dare.”

Jeff cocks a brow.

“I don’t like this game,” Eddie says.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

“I said dare.”

Jeff grins. “I dare you to tell me if you have a crush on anyone.”

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike chuckle.

“Fuck you all. Yeah, fine, I do. Next,” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s your turn, teddy,” you coo.

“Right. Dustin, truth or dare.”

“Easy. Truth,” he says.

“Is it fun being a little shit?”

You shove his side. “Eddie!”

“Why, yes. Yes, it is.”

“Great,” Eddie huffs.

“Awesome.” Dustin glares at him.

The game continues just like that, a vicious cycle of sarcasm and glares. It’s a little more lighthearted when Lucas asks you if you have a special skill. Without responding, you ask for a deck of cards and stand in front of the screen.

“You boys like magic?”

A few nod, the rest too stunned to speak as you show them a card, the queen of diamonds, and shuffle the deck a few times. You pull a card from the deck, and the boys lean in, anticipating the red queen. You spin the card, and they groan when you reveal the eight of clubs.

“That’s not our card, bug,” Eddie says. He expects you to be disappointed, but you grin and set the deck on the table.

“I know.” Their eyes widen when you reach into the top of your shorts, a card pinched between your fingers. The queen of diamonds. “This is.”

You toss the card, and the boys grab for it. Eddie gulps and shifts in his seat, couch squealing beneath him. Lucas pelts the hard-won card at Eddie, and you curtsy before heading back to your seat.

…

Just as the game gets a little tired, Dustin shoots his hand into the air. “My turn!”

“Okay, but this is the last one—”

Dustin shouts your name.

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare?”

You pretend to contemplate before chirping, “Dare!”

Eddie leans his head back, lulling to the side to watch you smile at Dustin. You catch Eddie staring and stick your tongue out at him. He winks.

“I dare you… to kiss the person on your right.”

“Geez, how long did it take you to come up with that one,” Eddie mumbles. But you look to your right, and Eddie looks kind of uninterested, glazed over and staring at the ceiling.

“That doesn’t seem very consensual,” you say, brows knitted just as Eddie lifts his head. Dustin glares expectantly at Eddie who slowly sits up and turns his head, smirking at you.

“You can kiss me, bug. So long as you promise not to bite.”

Eddie’s relieved when you giggle and set your hand on his knee.

“If you say so!” You lean closer, and he blushes at the new proximity. Despite his nerves, he just can’t look away, eyes locked with yours. You huff when it feels like he’s staring straight into your soul. But you’re smiling so sweetly, even with all the rascals chanting ‘do it!’.

You shift your weight and hold onto his shoulder as he slips his arm around your waist so you don’t teeter off the couch. He nods, tip of his nose just brushing yours. You press your lips to his quickly, and he can sense your nerves when you pull away and look down.

Everyone cheers.

You look into his eyes again, and your face relaxes, the heat not so unbearable when you see his smile. You duck to kiss him again, his arm tighter on your waist. He tries not to smile, but you hum softly and, suddenly, he’s a puddle in your fingers.

You pull away when someone whistles, your ears rushing with blood as you drop your feet to the floor and look away, face burning.

Eddie clears his throat. “Alright, you pervs got what you wanted. Can we finish this damn movie already?”

“It’s kinda late,” you hum, “I don’t wanna be driving too close to the witching hour.”

“Wait, what?” Gareth says, watching you stand and shuffle into your slippers by the door.

“Sorry, guys. Just… superstititous.” They wouldn’t have believe you if you hadn’t said it with a genuine smile on your face. Eddie hops up from his seat and follows you.

“I’ll walk you out, bug.”

“Ooh,” Dustin teases. Jeff slaps a hand over his mouth, and Dustin mumbles an expletive against it.

Your little, red coupe is sidled right up next to his van. He always keeps the spot closer to the door open for you. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, your arms crossed over your chest to keep out the cold. He winces.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay? I can take the floor,” Eddie says, shucking his jacket and wrapping it over your shoulders. You smile.

“Such a gentleman.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, teddy,” you whisper, craning your neck to kiss his cheek. Your heart-shaped keychain jangles against the car door as you slot the silver key into the lock. When you get the door open and glance at him, he’s stone faced where he leans against the back window.

“Wait,” he huffs.

“Yeah?”

Eddie can feel himself flailing, hands shaky at his sides when you look at him. He can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or his nerves or how worried you look or the fact that this could be his only chance. Don’t be a coward. He expects you to get tired of it. Eventually, you’ll have to let go, but right now, you stand there and wait for him. Oh.

“Sorry, bug. I’m pretty high right now.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug when he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles softly. “You okay?”

He shakes his head. “You’re so sweet. And you’re so nice to me. God, you’re so pretty.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you coo, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiate from his chest. He nods slowly, glancing down at your lips.

“Yeah.”

You thumb over the leftover slip of paper in the pocket of his jacket. And you smile, remembering when you passed him that note in chem last thursday.

Eddie sucks in a breath, sighing, “You make me so nervous.” You blink hard, and he’s seering hot under the warm light filtering through the trailer windows. “And you’re so fascinating.”

“Fascinating?!”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“That’s a new one. ‘S that a good thing?” you say, head tilted watching him push his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing. Fascinating is good. To me.” You swear his eyes twinkle a little when he looks at you.

“Well,” you nod, “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” And he can’t stop himself from taking selfish glimpses at your mouth. He feels so stupid for how long he denied his genuine attraction to you. His crush on you. You’d laugh if you knew what went on in his head. “I liked kissing you.”

You take a deep breath, and he steels himself for rejection. He thinks, why should you want anything to do with him after he’s acted so indifferent towards you all this time.

“I liked kissing you, too, teddy.” Holy fuck.

He grins. “You’re my type.” At first, you think he’s joking, but even a blind man could tell Eddie was dead serious. “Textbook description of it, bug. You’re my type.”

You look into his eyes again, trying to gauge if he’s fucking with you. He has to know that you’ve liked him for years. He has to. It’s not like the boys have been subtle about it.

“I… am flattered,” you coo, “Where’s all this coming from?”

“Just. From me. You know? It’s always been there. Had a crush on you forever, just had to tell you now.”

You nod, biting back a grin and shuffling a little closer. He’s absolutely buzzing when you curl your fingers into his bicep.

“Can I kiss you?” His head is spinning when you nod and press up against him. He’s sure you can feel his heart pounding. Especially when you press your delicate palm right to it. His hand fits gently against your hip.

Now, it’s his turn to kiss you. His lips are so soft against yours, tender like he’s nervous you’ll shatter. You giggle and reach for the back of his neck, your mouths falling open against each other in a fit of excitement and heat. He tugs you closer when your tongue slips into his mouth; he doesn’t mean to, but he feels himself smile and spread his hand across your lower back.

Eddie pulls away, eyes flicking wildly across your face just before he pecks your mouth again.

“Bug?”

You nod, eyes refusing to open as he kisses your cheek.

“Be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, teddy, I will!”

You tug him down by the collar to kiss him ferocious, his cheeks instinctively hot with your baby pink fingernails gentle on his neck. You can hear the cheers and high-fives from inside the house, exclamations of ‘finally!’ and ‘i knew it’.

Then Dustin hollers, “Fuck yeah!”

And you both shout, “Language!” just before falling into each other in a fit of giggles.

stranger things masterlist

[rongzhi]

actually maybe you know but what is cnets reaction to the us election results? i have weibo but i feel like im getting a pretty limited view

Hmm, the general reaction I've picked up on is: they think it's funny that he got elected. There's a very 吃瓜/watching with popcorn vibe to viewing U.S politics, but I don't think that there's a particular happy or sad feeling about it the way maybe other Western countries' people have reacted? Generally speaking, whether it's Trump or Harris, Republicans or Democrats, they both hate China and don't give a shit about Chinese people, which is the main concern of people in China.

I don't think they give a shit about the platform minutiae of it all; democrat or republican is largely the same to Zhang San and Li Si making 3000 yuan a month. Trump being president is in that sense inconsequential. In the meantime, I sense cnets find Trump very entertaining, so they tend to "like" him. I mean, he's funny to watch from afar, and because the China has developed largely self-sufficient industries, even with Trump's rhetoric on China, there is not a really an economic concern over on that side. Moreover, Trump in his first term, through his brashness, gave China a lot of opportunities to develop international relations with those countries that Trump alienated. He weakened the U.S grip on other nations, especially those developing ones, which found a friend in China instead. He was/is enormously racist and xenophobic toward China but his first presidency was actually considered good for China. For his aggressive talk, he is viewed as an an idiot that is easily influenced, and while yes, he can be unpredictable, at the end of the day, he's a "business president" and you can trust that money will always speak to him the loudest. As long as he's president, he will also embroil the U.S in domestic chaos, preoccupying the country and perhaps preventing us from starting new wars and stuff. (Biden is viewed as a war hawk; Harris would've continued his foreign policies)

Meanwhile, China will keeps doing China and the cnets, I guess I will say, largely have faith that the government will do what's best for China, and therefore best for them.

That's my read.

I will say, the main Chinese social media I use (where I actually get news, anyway) is douyin, which attracts a different user base than Weibo, I think. It's largely a video sharing site, where Weibo is more for posting text (deeper reflections, maybe?). I'd be interested to know what the Weibo reaction is, or at least, the reaction in the circles you or anyone else frequents!

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia( pt.1 Here!)(pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. So much that I exceeded the character limit and need to post Diasomnia in 2 parts. I have favorites I guess :/

Malleus experienced more firsts over the course of three years than the duration of his life. His first board game session, his first group trip with peers, his first taste of carnival food, his first sleepover, his first true friend - so, so many firsts. All a byproduct of one person walking into his life and taking a genuine interest in him.

You were the first houseguest he personally invited over to Diasomnia. Not for a tour, not for business, not on behalf of another - no. You were Malleus' houseguest, there to visit Malleus and spend time with Malleus. The snacks prepared were for you both to share. The lounge seating reserved for your company. His first time hosting for fun.

You were the first person he ever got a present for outside of his family. How quick your birthday had come, and how startled he became to find he cared. You were older. Growing so quick and changing at an alarming pace. He could see it in your features and mannerisms. Malleus knew that humans aged at a much faster rate than fae. Silver sprouted like a beanstalk. Yet you were blossoming like a flower in spring. How long until you'd wither?

Malleus cared. Not out of curiosity, but something deeper. Malleus did not want a servant to pick your gift, not even his closest companions. He desired to adhere to human custom and do the task himself. He did not trust another to pick something meaningful and to your preference.

You were the first to make him laugh. Your humor being like none he had heard before. Others tend to correct themselves in Malleus' presence, or try to cater to 'his' taste. Even those closest to him, often sharing a joke that flies over his head without any explanation. You did no such thing. Your humor was curious, and perhaps a bit crude. The jokes did fail to land with him, but he still found them funny regardless.

You were the first to make him yearn. Malleus had felt loneliness before. He's been bound in it's searing clutches and taunted. Yet his rooted longing never compelled him to change. He never felt jealous. Until your smile became another's and he felt a hot pit in his stomach. One different than his fiery magic.

You were his first desire.

Malleus fumbled and panicked. He had finally found a friend, yet he wanted more. The realization striking him deep. The first want he had no guarantee of obtaining. Yet his need for you was strong. He could not lose you. Malleus begun to value your presence. Your joy. The new life you breathed into him. He held it as dear as his family. You became his fondest treasure.

Malleus needed to ensure that you would never be taken from him. That you would never change.

You were also his first failure. On the dawn of your second year and his graduation, Malleus proposed. He had forgone all customs and jumped straight to marriage. Love to the fae was a lifetime bond. No power could chain you to him stronger than matrimony. Which is why he demanded your presence in the gardens after the ending ceremony. He decorated according to your tastes, with colorful lanterns and firefly lights strewn across the plants.

He saw the hope in your eyes. The way they sparkled with affection and pride bloomed knowing that he was the cause.

“Malleus….It’s so beautiful. Did you prepare this just for me?” You ask, clutching your hands to your chest. He smiles, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a black velvet box in the shape of a rose.

“I’m happy to see you like it; however, I hope this offering pleases you more”

Malleus opens the box to reveal a ring. Your eyes widen owlishly and he interprets it as a good sign. Until you step back.

“Oh Malleus….I can’t accept this. We aren’t even dating!” You deny his unspoken proposal with a shaken tone Malleus’ is unfamiliar with. Not from you.

“Why not? I love you. Is that not enough? Do you not love me?”

He fails to understand why you declined. He spent countless hours studying human customs and expression. No. Studying you. He was confident you returned his affections. So why? Why not leave this place and join him?

You explain to him that you’re incapable of marrying someone you haven’t spent time with romantically. That you do care about him. That you liked him and did feel for him. That you could love him, but not so suddenly. You have friends at NRC and didn’t want to leave. Not to mention how him marrying a human, especially with no warning, would cause so many political problems.

Of course he had already taken all this into consideration. He didn’t care about all that, yet bit his tongue from speaking his mind. Another first for Malleus.

“What if I abide by your terms? Would you allow me to court you properly?” He cuts into your sea of reasons not to be together. They weren’t his concern. Only you.

This gets you. He clearly wasn’t listening. Love blinded the average person, and Malleus’ heart bled. You consider his offer, and agree to his courtship. It would be difficult to maintain considering your distance and his status. Yet they were fickle matters to Malleus.

You were his first failure, yet he didn’t mind. There was no true victory without a bit of labor.

The change that he so feared, it became something Malleus adored. Every time he would whisk you away from NRC, or return for a visit - you were different. You had a new story to share, or had changed your appearance. At first he began to panic once again at how quickly you seemed to evolve without him.

And one day he realized that you would keep changing. He’d see a new you forever. All these new versions. A constant spark and longing that made him realize how precious each one was. They would come whether he bid them to or not - so he had to cherish them. Every version of you was one he loved and lost. Yet the fact that another would emerge kept his heart complacent.

You were his first kiss on a dewy fall morning. You were his first heartfelt dance, dressed in shimmery black satin and pearls that he gifted. You were his first goodnight kiss, and first morning embrace. You were his first comfort after tragedy struck and his first sympathetic heartache. You were everything.

It was no longer about chaining you. He loved his firsts. He would forever remember them.

His first goodbye.

On the cusp of your 3rd year coming to a close, Malleus prepared the ring from two years prior. He would gift it to you after your graduation. It would be yours whether you accepted the meaning behind it or not - the ring could go to no one else.

An announcement arrives to him the week prior via pen and paper. Hand written by you and oh how he so loved your letters. Malleus opened it with calm delight, yet as his eyes traveled across the words he forgot how to control his strength. The paper alit in flames.

‘The Headmaster found a way to send me home. Would you come for a visit?’

The letter was not so blunt, but that’s all he could comprehend. Malleus was not ready to say goodbye. He once thought his greatest fear was to watch his flower wilt, yet now it must be cut to make a bouquet.

As much as it tore him apart, Malleus had to let you go. He couldn’t root you to soil forever. His hands unconsciously drift to the velvet rose box tucked safely in his breast pocket.

It’s only natural you’d be the source of some of Malleus’ lasts. He would never love another.

He joins you days before your ceremony. You explain to him the procedure to return, and he bites his tongue once again. He encourages you, and is happy that you’re happy. The ring burns a hole where his heart lies yet he continues on with grace, ignoring the cautious behavior of your peers whenever he’s around. The only opinion he cared for was yours, and he’d stay as long as you needed.

Malleus missed the way your heart sought his. The way you gave him chance after chance to ask you to stay. How you clung to him despite the roles normally being reversed.

“I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you,” you whisper, holding Malleus’ hand and glancing at the glowing portal behind him. Malleus smiles, his eyes softening as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I will never forget your heart,” he murmurs against your skin, and reaches into his breast pocket with fluid movements. Malleus places the velvet rose box in your hands, cradling them gently with both of his.

“This is yours. I had it made for your finger alone, and only you will be the one to wear it. My heart belongs to you. Let this be my final selfish wish, but I hope you will think of me when you look upon it”

Malleus doesn’t understand why you break down. The way you clutch the box to your chest and look at him with such pain. He thought you wanted to go home. Is it not what you waited so long for?

He cannot be strong when you’re crying. How can you be so cruel. He won’t be able to -

“I want to be with you. I love you,” you whisper yet he hears it perfectly clear.

Malleus’ heart stutters and he clutches your shoulders. With one hand he tilts your chin up to look at him. Your eyes splotched with red irritation and glassy with sorrow. He wipes at their edges with his thumbs, cupping your cheeks ans looking at you for any sign of doubt. Any insincerity or fear. Your expression from years prior still lives rent free in his mind…he would not risk your happiness for his selfishness.

He finds nothing and pulls you in his arms. For the first time, Malleus sheds tears born from love. From relief. He wraps his arms protectively around you, and tucks his chin over your head.

“If you love something, let it be free. If it was meant to be yours then it will come back willingly. This is a saying of humans, is it not? I could not have you at the cost of your happiness. You do not deserve such a tainted love…but if this is truly what you desire, then I will not cease my efforts. You are mine, and I will eternally be yours,”

{Malleus’ ring is hand crafted by the royal blacksmith. Some would assume that there is a ring passed down through generations of the Draconia bloodline. There is not. The fae do not follow such traditions, yet Malleus would not instill all his values onto you. If it is a ring you need, then it is a ring he will get. He decides to reforge a gem plucked from his mother’s staff. The ring is made especially for you, with a teardrop-cut of magic-infused emerald as the focus point. It’s enchanted to reject any hand other than your own, and morphs to the size of your finger. It is subtle, made of pure gold, and a symbol of union between fae and mankind.}

"One should never make a vow of eternal love lightly. Take it from someone with ample life experience"

Lilia often imposes advice without any prompting. The musings of an old man normally went in and out of people's ears anyways. Sometimes it takes experience to learn, and no matter how we try to warn our children - fate is fate. They will go through the motions just as the people before them. Especially when it comes to trials of the heart such as love and loss.

Lilia knows both intimately. They've forged the man he is.

Philia: Love of friendship and equals. His peers, his comrades in arms, his fellow fae. The friends he has lost through death and distance. Those he fought to protect.

Storge: Parental love. To raise the son of his closest friends, and the blood of his sworn enemy. Lilia has fought through loss to feel the gratification of fatherhood. Lilia loves his children.

Agape: Love of man. This one took work. It took losing all he had, and then losing more. Hundreds of years of healing and trying to be better. Even in his final stretch Lilia is still learning this love.

Eros: Passionate, unconditional love. Lilia has felt this once, and only once. The wound still fresh with a dribble of salt steadily halting the healing process. To feel eros is a beautiful thing, but to have it ripped away is enough to kill.

Lilia experienced his fair share, and now enjoys watching those in the prime of life seek out love. He doesn't engage in romantic gossip, but enjoys watching others live their lives. One of his biggest curiosities being you, oddly enough.

This is because you've shown no interest in feeling love of any kind. Being the nosy man he is, Lilia finds your dismissal of others a bit concerning. He's not the most open person himself, yet you're a young human. This is when you should be wild! Surely you must feel something, considering all the 'escapades' you've been on with other students. The best way to bond is over shared trauma - he's not endorsing it. Just stating a fact.

"It's nothing personal. I'd rather not get too attached considering my living circumstances, if you catch my drift" you say in response to his prying.

He indeed 'catches the drift' and sees a bit of himself reflected in you. You were not unkind, yet also not overzealous. You did not push others away, yet also made an effort to protect yourself. For all the kind deeds you've done, Lilia knew better than to think it a case of bleeding heart syndrome. You remind him of how he was when deciding to raise Silver - afraid and very good at hiding it for the sake of others.

He decides to step in against his better judgement. If anything to repay the kindness you've done Malleus and his two youngsters. He couldn't watch you waste the precious life you’ve been given huddled away in isolation. Lilia would become your confident, as he is the most equipped to endure inevitably bidding farewell. If anything he will encourage you to forge stronger bonds of your own accord without fear.

He does an outstanding job at being the extrovert adopting an introvert. His favorite hobby being to startle you - popping out from random places like trees, bushes, the ceiling, your closet, etc. So much that you grow accustomed to his antics and expect them. Going so far as to always carry hard candies in your coat pocket as a peace offering.

He invites you to play online video games, go shopping, and sometimes pops by your dorm with Malleus. However his visits soon become solo, sensing that his adopted son didn't enjoy his 'nightly stroll' with his best friend being invaded. Lilia didn't mind - it meant that he'd get your company all to himself! There was nothing like watching a few horror flicks and tormenting Grimm after them. You even had a guest room in case he felt too ‘lazy’ to fly home.

On your birthday, he bakes a cake and leaves it on your kitchen windowsill. You found it, and even thanked him 'happily' later that day. He never said he was the chef though....you must have quite a keen sense of taste! That or he must be so talented that you know his cooking by heart!

Lilia felt a sense of relief, seeing your mannerisms shift from neutral to happy as time passed. It was hard work ebbing away at those walls of yours. It's not good for humans to be stressed. It lessens their already short lifespan.

He really should step aside. Let you befriend more humans and people that will support your journey. Except he doesn't want to. Philia's taken root in his heart - you're now a friend. An actual one.

So...he doesn't let go.

You join the college's boardgame club, and Lilia feels honored that he's the first you ask to play with. Each time you sought his company made him feel young again. Thrills did tend to follow your wake after all.

You often spent many evenings teaching Malleus, Silver, and even Sebek about your world. Not something Lilia planned for, but seeing you open up about it put his mind at ease. The different cultures, history, trends - Lilia listens in happily as well. Going so far as to learn some of your favorite recipes. He wants to cook them right away, but agrees to wait for your company. You grew nervous when he brought the topic up, possibly because you didn't want to be left out? Surely, that must be why.

Soon comes another January 1st - Signifying a new year and also Lilia’s birthday. The night prior he was out on the prowl, flying free throughout campus, watching people party and celebrate. Normally he’d spend this evening having fun of his own, but being caged at a school left him little chances to be free. Jumping across rooftops and sneaking around doing parkour was a trip down memory lane. The fireworks and lively people made for an excellent atmosphere.

By chance he happened on your rooftop, and decided to pop in for a quick respite. Slipping in through an open window was child’s play, as was avoiding your paranormal houseguests and popping in and out of rooms.

His keen hearing picks up your voice coming from the main bedroom - and normally he wouldn’t invade a personal space but the door was open. So obviously it was an invitation. He sticks to the ceiling and crawls to a shrouded corner with a mischievous grin.

How unsuspecting you were - dressed up in fancy clothes and muttering to yourself while in front of a floor length mirror. Lilia thinks you’re going to a party and is prepping to tag along -

“Alright. I can do this,” you mutter and turn around to pace the floor. A neatly wrapped present is clutched tight in your hands - wrapped in ivory paper with a sparkly pink ribbon. Lilia freezes just when he’s about to jump down, and clings back to the wall. “Just give it to him. Give it and tell him how you feel,” you turn towards the mirror, holding the box out, “Hello there Lilia. Yes, this is a birthday present. Yes, you’re a year older, how exciting! By the way I really like you so would you want to go on a date?” You fall silent, cringing in disgust at your reflection before sitting on the bed, “Ah. That was such dogshit”

Lilia exits as swift as he entered. The night air whips against his skin as he transforms into a bat and is already on the way back home. The implications of what he just witnessed weighing heavily on his mind.

This would not be the first time someone has caught feelings for him. You don't go 700 years without any suitors - he'd always turn them down with careful consideration.

Except he doesn't want to this time. That's the major issue.

The flight home was long, with purposeful detours until he felt tired enough to retire. A familiar bitter ache stung his heart. He'd only felt this disappointment once prior, and swore off letting it bud again.

Eros.

Lilia was in love too. He recognized the passion growing long before this moment, and against his better judgement let it fester.

"Seems I'm not as equipped to handle this as I once believed" he says to no-one and moves to play some online games instead of sleeping.

Lilia once felt a love he couldn’t express through anything other than fealty and devotion. It was a darker time where there was no promise of future. He swore not to endure that pain again - yet this is similar yet also different. The love is blooming effortlessly. His devotion is growing. The desire is there and so is the fear. All the same feelings yet without the dire weight of external forces adding pressure. This time it’s his choice to follow through. There’s no bigger force at play stopping him. Not even your mortality, considering how his lifespan is almost at its close.

Yet for all his years of wisdom, the thought of putting his heart out was still as frightening as the first.

In truth, Lilia had ulterior reasons for pursuing your companionship other than worry or repaying a debt. Your behaviors did remind him of his past self. That was no lie. He simply felt affection blooming upon your first meeting and thought having your friendship would morph it into something more tame. He had a habit of drawing in lost souls - what was one more?

Now the affection is stronger, and you return it.

Heavens, was he being given another chance? After all these years.

You return it. It's requited. He needn't hide it for the sake of someone else's happiness. Lilia could be selfish, if only he let himself.

The next day, Lilia finds an ivory box with a sparkly pink ribbon outside his door. A neatly written letter is attached, with the words 'Happy Birthday' written on the front. His name is written on the tag in black ink, with your name signed as the sender.

Lilia picks it up and undoes the wrapping with nimble movements. Inside is an assortment of treats that he wanted to try from your home, and a neatly folded letter atop them. It details exactly what was expected, a perfect explanation of your feelings that's entirely different than the nervous display he intruded upon.

He looks around the hallway, checking to see if you’re nearby before disappearing without a trace. Nothing but an open door showing that he left.

Everything after is a blur. While doing the dishes back at your dorm and trying not to think of the present - Lilia appears out of nowhere, startling you for what was probably the first time in months. His typical cheeky grin and snicker were nowhere in sight.

He says one thing, “Are you certain?”. The words held a heavy meaning for the both of you.

Asking if he’s willing to go for one last chance. To take one final risk or simply be satisfied with all he’s accomplished thus far. It asks if you’re willing to do the same - to risk everything you’ve built in one fell swoop.

You nod, and Lilia smiles. Not an impish smirk or a snarky grin. A true, soft smile that is full of released tension. He happily hugs you from behind as you finish working in silence, gradually slipping back to his playful ways yet not entirely. He would remain the out of touch peepaw that you so loved to tease him as, but a bit of his youthful spirit was being revived. His inner self being healed, perhaps.

He loves you, and the world hasn’t split in two. It was his time.

Finally.

From then on he had no reservations in loving you. This was a new form of eros. A new passion filled with joy and living for the moment - versus the weight of time holding him back like it did when he was younger. Nothing changed in your dynamic other than he now had the strength to let himself love freely.

Which is exactly why he wastes no more time. Just as he told you off hand long ago, one should not make a vow of eternal love lightly. He’d take his own advice and seek his own happiness for the first time in hundreds of years.

On a random night with no inkling of warning, Lilia drags you out of bed to the Ramshackle rooftop in nothing but your nightclothes. It wasn’t the first time he’d ask for a midnight escapade - just for the thrill and surprise, most of the time. He loved to keep things exciting.

Except he was being far too gentle. Far too nostalgic. He sits you down on the edge of the roof and puts his cardigan over your shoulders. Not a word passes between you as he tucks it snug around your shoulders - his hand tracing the line of your cheekbones, down your arms and to your hands. He cradles them gently, never taking his eyes from yours.

Then something foreign glimmers against your finger. In an effortless motion, he slipped the ring on without pause. You can’t help but stare at the gem in thought, looking between it and Lilia’s thoughtful expression over and over.

Lilia nods, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over the ring - admiring it against your skin.

“I’ve lived many years. Lead many lives. I thought I had accepted my nearing end, yet I find myself wanting more. I want to grey with grace at your side. To enjoy mundane evenings - greet you come morning and kiss you to seal a day’s end. I want my last life to be at your side, if only you will have me”

{A blood red garnet placed inside a blossom frame. Lilia’s ring is made of silver, and gives the illusion of a red rose in a bed of vines. Red is the color of passion, devotion, and unconditional love. Red roses hold this very meaning in the language of flowers. Lilia has felt this before - but you are his fated. You have chosen him simply for the person he is - not who he needs to be. He can finally be free and at peace. Your love is something he can selfishly hoard and it gives him the desire to enjoy life. He feels full. Happy. He hopes that this ring shows that he wants to live for the moment by your side, eternally}

[desi2go]

First times

pairing: Channie x reader

warning: fluff

summary: How were your first times with him?

author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHANNIE!!!!! I love you so much and I hope you have a great day <3<3<3<3<3

𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤

You never thought that you would meet the love of your life on the beach. You and your friends were on vacation in Australia, enjoying the beautiful beach in the warmth of the sun. There were so many people, laying next to each other due to the limited space but it still was relaxing.

You were just reading a book while sunbathing and trying to get a good tan, your friends swam in the warm water, leaving you alone on your towel. Suddenly, a ball hit you, bouncing over you onto your friend's towel. You looked around for the culprit, expecting it to be a child but instead, three men stood a few metres away. They pushed each other forward and when they caught your staring, they pointed at each other, claiming that it was the other ones fault.

You rolled amused with your eyes, not believing that grown up men could act like children. Two of them, one with long blonde and the one with short black hair, pushed their friend forward with force, letting him stumble.

The message was clear, he should get the ball back from you. You fished it from your friend's towel and waited for him to step up to you.

He was beautiful, his black hair hidden by a black base cap but his face was gorgeous. Those brown eyes looked like delicious chocolate and the smile that formed on his face made you blush.

You held the ball out while he stood in front of you, rubbing his back.

"Thank you" he exclaimed, taking the ball and already turning.

"You're welcome" you responded. But the good looking man stopped in his tracks when he saw his friends making signals with their hands. You figured out that the blonde was signing phone and the other acted like he wrote something, pointing to you.

The man with the base cap sighned. "I hate you guys sometimes" he mumbled, heading towards you again while blushing and hiding his face under the cap.

"Already back?" you asked amused, watching him with a smirk. "Yes. Can I have your number perhaps?" he questioned, becoming a blushing mess.

You chuckled. "Did your friends tell you that?"

He laughed. "No, they just encouraged me. I'm Chan by the way"

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊

You texted on a daily basis, getting to know him very well and you found out that he was an idol. Since you were from south korea too, you didn't think that this would be an obstacle for your relationship. Before he would go back to korea, he wanted to show you Sydney on a personal trip.

The whole day, he showed you around, poiting to the hidden spots and attractions that a normal tourist wouldn't see. It was fun to spend time with him, easy and without uncomfortable silences.

He was a true gentlemen, opening doors for you and even paying your ice cream. You laughed a lot and you must admit that you already adored his. His gentle gaze would always be on you, letting you feel safe and secure in his proximity.

When the sun was replaced by the moon and stars, he lead you to a small restaurant. You sat down in front of it, the soft light of fairylights luminated his face, emphazising all his beautiful features.

Chan told you that this was his favourite restaurant and he couldn't even deny it anymore when the waiter greeted him with his name, making you laugh. He recommended you some things and after getting your order, he even let you try his meal. You couldn't even remember if a man before him had fed you once, but he did, blowing on his fork to cool it down and then placing it in your mouth carefully.

His ears were red but the smile on his face was hypnoticing. You could watch this man for your entire life.

𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉

As soon as you were back in south korea, he took you out on more dates and you were sure that he was the person you wanted to spend your life with.

It was just that you feared for asking him if he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were just insecure how to approach this, afraid that it might be too soon for his liking but all your doubt were destroyed when he asked you instead.

It was on one of your dates. He had picked you up at your apartment and brought you to the park a little outside from Seoul where you could be alone. You both had planned to do a picknick to enjoy one of the last summer days before the cold winter would come.

You spread the blanket and placed the food down, talking about everything. While you laid down, he fed you some strawberries that were dipped into chocolate, reminding you of his eye colour.

You had noticed from the beginning that he acted different than usual, he seemed nervous. But you trusted him to tell you what was on his mind.

His hand caressed your cheek and you closed your eyes, eating the strawberries from time to time. He cleared his throat, not responding to a question you had asked.

"Okay Channie, tell me what is up with you today. You seem nervous" you expressed, opening your eyes to take his form in.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He spoke fastly, leaving you speachless. You definitely didn't expected that.

You chuckled. "That bothered you so much?" He nodded hesitantly, clearly panicking that you would say no.

"Of course Channie, I love you" you pushed yourself up from his lap, pressing your lips on his own.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖔𝖌𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗

Saying that you weren't nervous at all was wrong, completely wrong. You knew that it was just Channie, your Channie, and you didn't need to be so tense but this felt like a big step in your relationship.

You were officially together now and even if it sounded unbelievable, you hadn't spend a night together yet. You didn't mind since both of you wanted to take things slow.

Now, you stood in front of his apartment with a bag in hand, pressing his doorbell. He opened immeadiatly as if he had waited impatiently for you on the other side. He pressed a loving kiss on your lips and taking the bag from you in the same moment.

"Hello love" he greeted, pulling you out of the cold hallway. It wasn't the first time being in his apartment and you liked his way of decorating from the first moment.

"Hey Channie" you responded, getting rid of your shoes and jacket while he placed the bag into his bedroom. "I just started cooking" he told you, leading you into the kitchen where the food was already cooking.

You laughed a lot while you observed your boyfriend since he forced you to sit down instead of letting you help.

After dinner, you two layed down on his couch to watch a movie, your head an his shoulder while he played with a strand of your hair. You felt him pressing his nose into your hair and you laughed when you heard him inhale deeply. "What? I love your smell" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around you.

Afterwards, you headed to bed after getting ready together. He didn't even give you the chance to bring some sort of distance between you or letting you even lay down for a second before he was already pulling you into his arms again, leaving you squealing and giggling.

"Come here! I need my cuddles!" he demanded, giving you a light bite on your shoulder. "As if you weren't cuddling me all the time" you stated, brushing a few hair strands out of his face.

"They are never enough, never"

𝖜𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

Chan's proposal was something you hadn't expected. Well, yes at some point in the future yes but you were surprised when the love of your life suddenly kneeled in front of you, a beautiful and well-chosen ring in his hand. Of course you said yes! I mean how could you not?

The preparation of the wedding let the time pass so fast. You chose the perfect venue in Australia on the beach you had met years ago and your wedding dress was breathtaking and you couldn't wait to see Chan's reaction.

When you walked down the aisle, you were so nervous but yet so excited. With a beautiful bouquet in hand, you headed to your future, to your beloved husband. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his black suit and as soon as his eyes found yours, a stunning smile decorated his face.

Your farther gave you into Chan's arms and got back to his seat. During the whole ceremony, your lover's eyes never left yours and his fingers caressed your hands. Soon, you both said yes and exchanged your rings that you had chosen. Your wedding band was silver with a white stone and on the inside, hidden from the outside, were your initials engraved.

Chan gently pressed his lips on yours, your hands finding its way in his hair.

𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉

You and Chan were married for over a year now and you knew that he wanted kids and you must admit that you imagined being a mother too. And after settling into marriage you felt that it was the right time to try for a baby.

Chan was excited and couldn't wait until you were pregnant. Just some months later, you found out that you were indeed with child and on the first doctor's appointment, Chan cried as soon as he saw the cell that is your baby.

During the whole pregnancy, he was so nervous and affectionate. Whenever he found time, he would caress your bump or lay on your stomach to tell you and your baby about his day.

As your bump grew, he was cautious about everything. You couldn't even do laundry without him jumping up and taking over, claiming that you needed to rest.

When you went into labour, he stayed by your side during the whole process. His hand never left yours and he drove to the hospital, even when you tightened your hold with each contraction.

After hours of labour, you heard your baby's first cries and it felt like all the pain faded away. The only thing you could concentrate on, was to hold your baby. Chan kissed your forehead in joy, complimenting you how great you did this. In his own eyes were tears as they laid the beautiful baby girl in your arms.

Tenderly, he caressed his finger over the smooth skin and oh lord - he was smitten. He felt nervous when you suggested to hold his girl but he agreed and listened to the instructions the nurse gave him. He undressed his chest because newborns liked the skin to skin contact to hold their temperature and to control their breathing.

He laughed in joy as he held his little one finally after months of waiting, the smile never left his lips again.

[friedpaolo]

Can I please request any type of headcanon either fluff or nsfw for Mr Crawling and Mr Scarletella, mostly relationship headcanons.Thank u may u have a great day ✨

Had to brainstorm so hard and long for this, rung my brain dry for what little creative juices it had..

Mr. Scarletella is an obsessive companion. We've seen from game that he's very obsessive and literally tracks you around the underground facility like a bloodhound. If you've already made relationship with him then he's always trailing behind, crimson umbrella ominously tilted just right to mask the way his eyes are boring into you, crazed and feverish. He just loves you so fucking much, can you even call it love? It feels more like obsession. He makes a big attempt to not scare you, although he's failing almost 60% of the time. He's not good at camaraderie like Mr. Crawling or Mr. Chopped so expectant a lot of very creepy silence or singular sentenced phrases. He's not trying to scare you, absolutely not! But he's been so... him for so long that he doesn't start acting all lovey dovey immediately.

Mr. Scarletella who has a vocal kink, or a name kink if you put it more specific. He just loves to hear you say his name when he's got you overstimulated from how powerful he feels atop you. He takes little consideration into how big he is because he can balance his weight enough to not harm you. "Say my name." He cups you face and forces your eye contact to viciously meet his own. He doesn't let you look away not untill you comply. All those deaths by your hand were sacrifices for him, right? He finds the way you utter his name to be the greatest devotion to him. Greater than any kiss or hug. Speak his name proudly, don't be nervous! He won't hurt you... much. When you finally give in and stutter out his name, it's enough to make him cum instantly.

Mr. Scarletella will always share his umbrella with you. His lanky arm wrapped around you in a way that sort of limits your movement. He's not sure why you'd ever want personal space when you can be close to him at all times! His perception of love is very misguided and misconstrued, he believes that not allowing you to interact with other entities is considered protecting you. Even if said entity is just a trailing Mr. Crawling or even a bodyless Mr. Chopped. Not gonna lie, he's bordering yandere when it comes to having him as a lover. Like even when you're not his lover, you still are. If that makes sense.

Mr. Crawling.. oh, sweet Crawling. This man is the best choice of companion. We've already seen how bountiful his affections for you are through the main game. He's so clingy, but not in the way that Scarletella is. Unlike him, Mr. Crawling isn't obsessing over your every move, word and action. Neither does he force you to stay close approximation to him. He loves when you make friends with the other ghosts and creatures in this world, although he can get pretty protective if he deems anything as a threat to your wellbeing and general safety. He has no qualms of safeguarding you, even if it involves a little bloodshed. However for the most part, he's a very lighthearted companion.

Mr. Crawling definitely strikes me as the type to have an odd intrigued engrossment in doing missionary with you, the ironic thing is that it's a 50/50 thing with him. You never know when he'll ask for you, perhaps he views it as a bonding ritual and always wants to feel close with you. Although, you've noticed that it happens more often when you've separated for a bit of a time. Rather it be that he finds you, or You've returned to your dear disheartened companion, whom perks conspicuously at the mere presence of you. You'll always find yourself on your back with a large, vacuous creature desperate to slide his twitchy cock inside of you. He misses the first 3 times, be patient with him.

Mr. Crawling who Is very desperate to make you feel comfortable around him, that he avoids standing around you. He intentionally makes himself smaller to seem much less intimidating and will always feel guilty if he ever does spook you. Likewise, he becomes more opposing and intimidating to scare off the more offensive monsters. He really does love you lots, always trailing behind and reaching out to tug your rain coat for attention or pressing his head up against your limp hand to signal that he'd like for you to pet him like how he pets you, to reassure him that even if he follows, you steal remember and value his presence as your own. He really is about as loyal as a street mutt that you've made the mistake of feeding.

02/02/2025 © Friedpaolo. please do not translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim any of it as your own.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

(Thunderbolts) I feel like it would be really funny. There's a x reader where Bucky had a wife, and she just walks in during one of their meetings, holding their kids and like "where the hell were you? All I need a frozen pizza and some diaper wipes."

And alexie teaches one of the kids their first word but it's not mama or dada. It's Gin.

Bucky is pulled away quickly for a mission, leaving you holding the babies...and worrying about your husband.

Warnings: 18+ for language, domestic fluff, Thunderbolts!Bucky before the film, Dad!Bucky, reader likes pineapple on her pizza, I feel this is something I need to warn for. I don't really write kids in fics normally and I've never written Alexi before so…please be kind! Rated F for fluff and K for kids.

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Not going to lie I'm nervous writing anything about Thunderbolts before it's out but Thunderbolts!Bucky does live rent free in my head. It's not exactly as you requested but I hope you still enjoy it anyway!

Padruga - female friend in Russian

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes | The Barnes Family AU

Being married to Bucky Barnes was everything you'd dreamed about since the first time he'd strolled into your boutique and nervously asked if you had any gifts suitable for ex-assassins with limited wardrobes.

After a few hours searching for items he'd bought a new jacket for himself, black leather of course, and a smaller woman's jacket. Your heart had sunk, of course there was a woman already in his life. Tall, handsome, a rakish mop of hair flopping into his piercing blue eyes, she was a lucky lady.

Bucky had looked at you, those blue eyes looking straight into your soul, "it's for my sister, sort of, well, she's not my real sister, but she's like a - it's not for …I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh, good." And then you kicked yourself for sounding so stupid. Bucky had given you the widest smile and written his number on a scrap of paper.

"Call me." He'd winked.

It was becoming harder to appreciate your luck when you were covered in bath water, probably the only shower you were likely to get unless Grant went to sleep quickly.

Bucky had been called out to an emergency meeting on his way to the store and as much as you loved his dedication and hard work you really, really, needed him to come home with the groceries.

You were running low on literally everything and you knew eventually you'd have to do a full shop, but now just the essentials would do. You couldn't have a repeat of lunch, hunting down some crackers, cheese and cucumbers sticks.

Distracted for a moment, Grant lined his rubber ducks up on the edge of the tub, splashing them in one by one.

"Look Mama!" He said, gleefully, "'dis one is Daddy!" He took the duck, left wing coloured in black, and made it dive into the heap of bubbles surrounding him.

"Well done, Sweetie!" You cooed, turning away quickly to hide a yawn and checking your phone.

Get your ass home or I'm ordering the pizza in instead

From the nice place

Get me some fries?

No

and I'm getting pineapple

Doll cmon now youre being cruel

It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep his work secret, but he would normally be able to say when he was coming home. Perhaps it was really important.

Grant had just gone to sleep when the doorbell rang and you cringed, setting your pineapple heavy pizza down on the coffee table and pausing your movie.

There was a familiar silhouette in the frosted glass -

"Alexi, is everything okay?" The door swang wide open before you could even reach it. It had definitely been locked, but it was hard to keep any of the team out for long.

"Padruga! I am returning the small one." A very familiar mop of hair popped over Alexi's shoulder, face covered in cookie crumbs. For all that Grant was like you, Natalia was all Bucky, soft curls and sparkling blue eyes.

"Mommy!" She jumped from Alexi, landing heavily in your arms, "we went to Dairy Queen and I had two ice creams and one of those ice creams was vanilla and the other was choca-chol-choco-brown-extreme-blizzard-extreme."

You turned a cold eye on Alexi, "I thought we said park, dinner, home?"

"Ah how can I resist to spoiling the daughter of the Winter Soldier, if she wants extreme blizzard milk drinks I cannot say no." He shrugged, an indulgent smile peaking out of his beared.

"God," you rubbed a hand over your face. "She'll never sleep - Petal, can you go and get your pjs on please, I'll come up and help you do your teeth."

Natalia climbed the stairs quickly, sounding more like a herd of elephants than a four year old.

"Do you know what's going on with Bucky? I expected him home by now."

Alexi looked concerned, but didn't immediately start a tirade about the strength of the Winter Solider, so you felt reassured it couldn't be too serious.

"He is discussing planning with Wilson and his comrades. I have advised against it but he trusts the Captain and so we do too."

"We?"

"Yelena has been very helpful and is talking to the rest of the team. We will have a plan soon."

"So you're heading out for something?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Fuck."

"In Russian you can say, yebat, Mommy." Natalia's little voice floated over from the hallway and you cringed. Everytime she came back from spending time with Alexi or Yelena she seemed to have learnt a new Russian word, which wouldn't bother you, except they were almost always curse words.

"I'm all for her being bilingual, but could you maybe teach her how to say her favourite colour or something." You grouched.

"Sorry."

Alexi took a slice of pizza and left the address of the current discussions on a scrap of paper stuck to the fridge before vanishing in to the night again with the promise that you could "call anytime."

It had been two days since Bucky left on his bike to, "have a quick chat with the team, baby, don't worry, I'll swing by the store on the way home." And you were starting to move from slightly annoyed to a see-saw of furious and anxious.

He'd text a few times to let you know they hadn't left yet but the situation was complex, he'd be home very briefly before they left, just to see you and the kids, but other than that he was holed away for the foreseeable.

One week after Bucky left and you were truly stir crazy. There was only so many times you could have the same conversation with the other parents at the park before you lost your mind.

You really didn't care if Timmy or Charlie or whoever had cut their first tooth. All you cared about was what your husband was doing somewhere, anywhere, and when he'd be home safe in your arms.

It was 2am when the call came in, he was home, safe and unharmed, at the abandoned airstrip twenty miles past the town border. Yelena and Alexi were with him, also safe.

Grant was a heavy, floppy, weight in your arms as you buckled him into his car seat. But Natalia was wide awake and excited, clutching her bear to her chest and staring at the street lights in awe.

"I can't wait to see Daddy," she sighed, snuggling the top of the bear's head. You made sure to put his cologne on it, every day, while she was out at kindergarten, the same way you sprayed his pillow. So you'd both have a memory. Grant's blankie was the same and, still asleep, he pressed his chubby cheek into the cotton.

"I can't wait either, Petal, we'll be there soon."

You drove through the night, the darkness closing in around your car, streetlamps dwindling and stars appearing as you made it out of the town and towards the airstrip. There was a single plane looking almost abandoned, its tail at an angle, on the landing strip. But there was the faint glow of artificial light under the door of a metal supply shed beyond it.

You slowed the car, expecting there to be someone at the gate to the airstrip before remembering it had been closed a few years previously and there would be no one to care. It must have been a rough mission, to come back like this rather than through a real airport. It was normally Sam who let you know about his return and you could collect him from the big airport in the city or he'd appear in the night from some taxi or hire car.

You double checked to make sure the doors were locked on the car, the children dozing in the back. Grant was drooling on his blankie and Natalia, despite her assertion that she would "definitely certainly mostly stay awake until Daddy, Mommy" was bumping her head on the side of her car seat every time her eyes closed.

You stopped the car opposite the shed and flashed your lights, ready to drive off if they didn't flash back.

It went dark, then light, dark…light and the door opened. You put the handbrake on and jumped from the car, leaving the door flung open in your haste, and raced towards Bucky.

He dropped his duffle bag and swung you into his arms, latching around your waist and lifting you easily. His lips were chapped and there was the tang of blood when you pulled away from a cut on his upper lip. You cupped his face in your hands and inspected him as best you could in just the headlights.

"You're okay." You sighed, breathing him in, burying your face in his neck and squeezing your legs around his waist.

"I'm alright Doll, don't worry about me. Are you okay?" His voice was rough with sleep, his cheeks chapped with cold and he smelt faintly of fire which was disconcerting. But he was here, safe, holding you close.

"Glad you're back, baby." You smiled, kissing him again. It was amazing, even after all these years, ever though he'd been on a hundred missions. It still gave you butterflies every time he came back, not just that he returned at all, but that he came back to you.

Behind you came the sound of little fists banging on the windows.

"Daddy!" Natalia shouted and Bucky carried you, giggling, back to the car.

With practiced ease he unbuckled both children and held them close.

"My little monsters, have you been good for Mommy?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Grant giggled.

"Sounds about right." Bucky looked over Natalia's head and smiled again, soft and slow.

"I'm glad you're back." You repeated, "but if you ever take two weeks to 'pop to the store' again we're over." You wagged your finger teasingly.

"Don't worry, I got everything we needed." Bucky carried the children back to his duffle, shuffling them around so he could lumber back with everything in his arms. "Look in there."

You unzipped the bag and inside - a pack of wipes, a bottle of laundry soap and two frozen pizzas.

[bellenotthebeast]

Hello.

I want you to listen. Don’t scroll away because of the buzz word ‘Lando’.

Listen.

This has gone beyond hate for Lando. This about all the drivers.

This is about treating drivers respectfully. This is about your parasocial relationships with the drivers. This is about you reading into everything they say.

This is about the F1 media taking clips out of context because they don’t want a race they want a drama.

This is about you taking those clips and not bothering to find the original source, and taking it to fuel a hatred for someone you don’t know.

This is about you hating on a new driver because you miss the old one.

This is about you sending hate to fans of a driver you don’t like.

When I dislike something I scroll- I ignore, because it’s not worth my time. Why should I let the social media algorithm think I like the video because I watch it? I block a person I dislike. I don’t go onto their account and spend time out of my life to comment.

But unfortunately the amount of hate I’m seeing it’s getting hard to ignore it.

Haters and fans. Opposite end of the spectrum, still on the same spectrum.

You’re still thinking about the guy you supposedly hate. You talk about him under other driver related posts, you make it your entire personality.

You make it toxic.

The difference in drivers is what makes the sport fun. I’m friends with people who have other favourite drivers. What we do is we talk about the race. We talk about how their driver did really well and what mine could’ve done better. We have fun.

Because it’s the sport that bonds us.

I don’t send death threats to them. People have become so obsessed with other peoples lives and it shows.

A driver can’t say he feels lonely without getting jumped on for it. A driver gets asked his opinion after a high adrenaline race, one he feels he didn’t do well and he sounds a little bitter. Of course he’s going to. Yet you read into it.

He celebrates and you read into it.

And then dislike them when they decide not to do anything anymore.

You criticise them for the mistakes they’ve already owned up to and refuse to even acknowledge the good they’ve achieved.

New fans get scared to join because they worry everyone will hate them. Which kills the sport in turn.

Lando. Max. Every single driver on the grid do not know you. And you do not know them. You know of them. You do not know them.

You do not know what they do or who they are the moment they’re away from the cameras.

You do not need to like a driver. Nor do you need to dislike them. I don’t dislike drivers, I just have drivers I favour a bit more than others. Because why would I hate them?

I dislike some of the things they do- during the race. Of course. I’m bitter after a race doesn’t go well. I’m a fan of the sport.

But that’s as far as it goes.

I do not care for their personal life as it’s theirs, nor do I care for what minuscule thing they’ve done.

If you don’t feel called out, then good- I’m not talking about you. You’re the good ones. If you are feeling ‘attacked’ then perhaps it’s time to rethink what you want to spend limited time, that is your life, on.

We only have so many minutes in our lives to actually live. So live it. Don’t spend it on hating on others.

Good day/night. 😊

[prettybean]

THEY CAUGHT YOU MASTURBATING (COD +18)

* fuck, I should really write car sex with Keegan

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Ghost

After a tiring day at work, you entered your room and finally found comfort by lying down on your bed. As you settled in, your hand slides down between your legs, feeling the stress gradually melt away. Soft moans escaped your lips until suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat.

Simon's voice broke the silence, “Is this what you do when you're not at work?”.

Filled with anger, you couldn't help but scream at him: “Fucking bastard”.

“Close the door next time.” He told you in response, before nonchalantly walking away.

Soap

"Hey-". He enters your room without bothering to knock, finding you in a compromising position, desperately trying to come thanks to your fingers. You noticed him, covering yourself as quickly as you could with a blanket.

"I'm sorry-". You see his face turn bright red, especially after hearing your laugh. You find him cute, so you decided to try and see how far he would go, pushing his limits: "What? Do you like what you see?" At your challenging words, he leaves the room almost running, tripping over his own feet down the hall.

Price

He has no respect for your privacy. He barges into the bathroom while you're changing, enters your room while you're asleep, and even catches you in the act of pleasuring yourself.

You've become desensitized to it all and continue to masturbate without batting an eye. He loves watching you with a smirk, sitting at a distance, and encourages you with praises.

"Keep it up, babe. You're doing great. Go deeper with those fingers. I'm so proud of you."

Gaz

You've been close friends for what feels like an eternity, perhaps even longer than you can remember. Throughout the years, he has witnessed you in every conceivable scenario... except for this one. Without warning, he barged into your office, catching you in the act of pleasuring yourself with a vibrator.

Unaware of his presence, you continued. You were oblivious to his presence, so he quietly shut the door, allowing you to continue uninterrupted. He stood glued to the door, with one ear pressed against it. He covertly savored your moans and the vibration of the sex toy, peering through the keyhole with one hand between his legs

Alejandro

“Mi amor, have you seen my shirt?”. He said walking into your room, seeing you with his shirt on masturbating.“Fuck, you're really having fun,” he laughed, seeing how you immediately closed your legs trying to hide yourself with the hands.

“Don't hide, love, I love seeing how desperate you are.” Alejandro teased you, spreading your legs forcefully, putting his face in between.

“Leave it to me, okay?”. You nodded, feeling his tongue begin to pleasure you. “If my shirt isn't wet when I'm done, I'll punish you.”

Graves

There were no secrets between the two of you. You pleasured yourself quietly, without any fear of being caught. However, it bothered him. He despised the fact that you were enjoying yourself without him, which only made you want to do it more intentionally. Most of the time, he would catch you with two fingers inside, moaning his name loudly. "How many times do I have to tell you to do it in front of me?" he says sternly, as he removes your hand from between your legs and replaces it with his own.

"Come on, baby, be a good girl/boy and give me another one. Only I can touch you, got it?"

You adored his fingers; they always reached deeper than yours and drove you wild.

König

You were always busy, your phone never stopped ringing: whether it was for work or personal matters. The only time you could truly relax was at night.

You placed a pillow in the middle of the bed and slowly rode it, relishing in the sensation of the fabric against your sex. Just as you were about to climax, the phone rang. You answered it out of habit, and your boyfriend König's voice made you moan even louder.

"What are you doing, you naughty girl/boy?" he teased. “N-nothing”. You heard him laugh.

"Keep going," he instructed, "I'll stay on the line until you finish”.

Keegan

Keegan gave you a ride home like he always did after every date. However, today was a bit different. The man sitting next to you looked even more attractive in the evening, which got you incredibly excited. You didn't want to distract him, he wasn’t a good driver, so you discreetly squeezed your legs together, trying to alleviate the discomfort in between.

As your panties started to get wet, you subtly opened them and ran a hand over your own inner thigh. "You alright?" He asked, noticing your flustered state. "Yeah, I'm just feeling hot," you replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you sure? I bet that's the issue, you naughty little thing," he said with a satisfied smile, slowly sliding his hand between your legs.

———

car sex with Keegan here

[enviedear]

love to keep me warm ❅ dick grayson

part of enviedear's winter wonderland... 🎧ྀི dick grayson is your best friend, and has been since he moved to blüdhaven. you're more than familiar with taking trips to gotham with him, especially during the holidays! you've yet to miss one of bruce wayne's christmas galas—but this year is different. this year, you're hopelessly trying to hide the recent crush you've developed on your best friend. wc 2.0k | fluff, like, the fluffiest fluff

the pristine penmanship of an envelope, mingled in the mix of bills and various other junk mail, has you feeling nervous. unlike previous times—every other time—you're not excited to be invited to bruce wayne's annual holiday gala. not this year, at least.

perhaps if you hadn't spent the spring and summer falling head over heels for your best friend—or, partner in good—that's what dick calls it.

you hadn't meant to fall for him. in honest, you've tried your entire life to stop any of this for ever happening. there were times, when you were younger and dick was still outwardly an idiot, that you'd let yourself imagine it for a moment...being with him. but you always stopped yourself, never let the idea take root.

but then the hottest summer in blüdhaven history happened—and dick was so kind to offer up his apartment to you. generator-backed and remarkably cooler than your twenties era studio, you started out happy to have your best friend as a roommate. until it became too real, too perfect, and too out of your control.

dick grayson has always been a handsome guy, beautiful even, in some lights. but he's also the dork that sat in gum on the subway before his first dance, the annoyance who winks across the room when a conversation is going well, the loser that practices lines in his bathroom mirror—for criminals or lovers, you're unsure. he's been strictly off limits in your mind since you met.

but now—now he's morphed into something much more, and with it, so has your innocent little crush. you feel unable to hide it. always on edge when he emerges from his room. what used to be normal hang outs now have you feeling like a teen on her first date—you find it completely rancid. everything was much easier when you had control over these feelings.

the envelope sits in your hands, a little heavier than it should. you can already picture the grandeur of the evening—bruce in his tuxedo, smiling picturesque and politely, surrounded by gotham’s elite. alfred’s impeccable hors d'oeuvres and gentle quips. damian sulking somewhere in a corner, occasionally muttering about the frivolity of the season. and then dick...in a tailored suit that'll make your chest tighten, effortlessly charming as always.

you’ve been to enough of them to know the drill. you’ve stood by dick’s side countless times, smiling as people ask if you’re together. the answer has always been a laugh and, “no, just friends.” but this year, you’re not sure you can manage the smile.

“hey, you okay?” dick’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. he’s standing in the doorway, hair damp from a shower, a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, and a loose t-shirt that somehow still clings perfectly to his frame. you hate how easily he does this to you.

“yeah, m'fine.” you say quickly, stuffing the envelope into the pile of mail. “just bills.”

your mail still gets delivered to his place—despite the fact that you've updated your address again. it shouldn't be such an annoyance. really, it's a perfect opportunity to see him more...but seeing him while harboring the biggest crush possible is taxing.

he gives you a look, one that’s a little too knowing for your comfort. “you sure? you look…tense.”

“i’m fine.” you insist, maybe a bit too sharply.

“okay, okay!” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. but there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “you know, if you’re stressed, we could do one of those cheesy holiday things to cheer you up. ice skating? christmas movies? oh, wait—gingerbread houses. you can’t be grumpy while decorating a gingerbread house.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “are you suggesting that i’m grumpy?”

“never.” he says with a grin that’s so sincere it’s almost maddening. “but you’ve been…quiet lately. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“i’m fine, grayson. really.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, instead grabbing an apple from the counter and leaning against it as he takes a bite. “there should be something from bruce in there—you’re still coming to the gala, right? you know it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

your stomach twists at the thought. you can’t imagine spending an entire evening pretending your feelings don’t exist, not when they’re so painfully obvious to you now. but you nod anyway, because what else can you do?

“yeah, of course i am!” you say, forcing a smile.

dick beams, and it’s so genuine, benevolent even, that for a moment you forget why you were ever worried. but then he turns back to his apple, oblivious to the way your heart is practically in your throat, and you’re reminded all over again.

surely—this is going to be the longest holiday season of your life.

the night of the gala arrives faster than you expected. the manor is alive with golden lights and soft music, the atmosphere a blend of sophistication and holiday magic. you’re in a dress that felt perfect when you bought it but now feels too tight under the weight of your nerves. dick, of course, looks effortlessly stunning in a black tuxedo, his smile lighting up the room as he greets guests.

you stick to the edges of the event, trying to avoid mingling too much. the grandeur of the wayne manor only amplifies your discomfort, the chandeliers and opulent decorations feeling like a spotlight on your inner turmoil.

but dick finds you, as he always does, weaving through the crowd with that natural charm. “hey, you’re not hiding over here, are you?”

“no, just…taking it all in.”

“uh-huh,” he says, tone teasing as he leans against the wall beside you. “you know, bruce said something interesting earlier.”

“oh?” you ask, trying to sound casual as your heart rate picks up. terrible.

“yeah. he mentioned you’ve been coming to these galas for years, but he’s never seen you dance.”

you laugh nervously. “i don’t dance...this way. you know i can't waltz.”

“that’s a real shame,” dick says, holding out his hand. “because i happen to be a great dancer. and i think tonight’s the perfect night to be your instructor.”

“dick, i—” you start, only to be shushed with his pointer to your lips.

“no excuses.” he says, his grin soft but heavily insistent. “come on, it’s christmas. live a little, dance a little.”

before you can protest further, he’s guiding you to the center of the room. the music shifts to something slower, more romantic, and you feel your breath catch as he places a hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. his touch is warm and grounding, but it only makes the butterflies in your stomach worse.

“see? not so bad.” he says, his voice low as he leads you effortlessly across the floor. “you’re a natural.”

“hardly.” you murmur, eyes fixed on his collar to avoid looking directly at him. but he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze anyway.

“hey.” he says gently. “you can look at me, you know. i don’t bite.”

you laugh, though it comes out shakier than you intended. when your eyes finally meet his, there’s something in his expression that makes your breath hitch. it’s kindly and steady, but there’s an intensity to it too, like he’s searching for something—scouting.

“dick…” you start, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

“you know,” he interrupts, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.”

your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest. “huh?”

he nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “yeah. and i think…i think we should talk. after this.”

“after this?” you repeat, eyebrows furrowed.

he smiles, but there’s a hint of trepidation behind it. “yeah. but later, let’s just...enjoy this rare blessing of you dancing.”

you want to deny his request—hound him for the meaning of whatever “this” is. but you don’t. maybe even can’t—you’re unsure. because when you finally lock eyes on dick grayson, he’s looking at you as if you're the bright, shining, expensive star atop the tree.

as the song begins to fade, the chatter around the room grows louder, mixed with clinking glasses and rhythmic heels. dick doesn’t let go of your hand, even as the music shifts to something livelier. his thumb brushes gently over your knuckles, and you have to stop yourself from sighing in outright adoration. he's just being cavalier—you remind yourself.

“come with me?” he says softly, leaning down so only you can hear him.

“what? where?” you ask, glancing nervously at the sea of people around you.

“somewhere quieter.” his tone leaves little room for argument, and before you can overthink it, he’s guiding you through the crowd with a natural ease.

the two of you slip out onto the balcony, noting small flurries of snow raining down. for a moment, you’re grateful for the fresh air, until you take a look back to dick.

he leans against the railing, hands braced on either side of himself as he peers into the distance. he’s silent for a moment, and then you hear him sigh.

“dick?” your voice is hesitant.

he turns to you, his expression so sincere it causes your head to rush. “i wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. about—thinking about you.”

you freeze, your mind racing. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that makes your lips curve. “i mean, this past year—living together for a bit, working together—i realized something.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “what did you realize?”

“that i’ve been an fuckin' idiot,” he says, his voice softer now. “i’ve spent all this time thinking of you as my best friend, you know? my really perfect best friend…" he trails off, scanning your face before starting up again, "but somewhere along the way, you became so much more to me. i think i’ve been too scared to admit it, but i thought, you'd deserve to know.”

the words hang in the air, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve misheard him. that your brain pulled fantasy into some horrid delusion—but the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world, leaves no room for doubt.

“you…i'm sorry. what?” you whisper, voice more mouselike than human.

“i like you,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering. “more than a friend. more than a best friend. and i think maybe i’ve felt this way for a while, but i didn’t want to mess up what we have.” he says it as if he's reading off his grocery list, so willful with his truth.

your heart feels like it’s about to burst, a mix of disbelief and relief flooding through you. “dick, i—”

“wait,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “before you say anything, i just…needed you to know. because pretending everything’s normal when it’s not is starting to drive me crazy. and if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. totally okay. we can go back to how things were. i’ll deal with it." he shrugs, avoiding eye contact now, "i just couldn’t go another year without telling you.”

“i like you back, god, i have for so long.” you say, your voice faltering off near the end.

his eyes widen, surprise and hope flickering across his face. “you do?”

you nod, a small laugh escaping you. “of course i do. you’re—ugh, you’re everything, dick. and i’ve been trying to ignore it because i didn’t want to ruin what we have either. but…yeah, i like you. a lot.”

for a moment, neither of you says anything. just staring at eachother without the barrier of friendship—somehow it makes him look even more divine. then, before you can blink, he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in.

the kiss is soft and tentative at first, as if he’s afraid you might pull away or reject it. but when you don’t—when your hands find their way to his shoulders—he deepens it, pouring every unspoken word into his kiss.

when you finally break apart, you’re both breathless, a quiet laugh escaping him as he rests his forehead against yours.

“merry christmas.” he whispers, his voice warm. the sound rumbles through his chest.

“merry christmas.” you reply, heart full and satiated. and for the first time, you're glad you fell headfirst for your bestfriend—even more glad he followed suit.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Kiyoomi Sakusa General Profile

Yandere! Kiyoomi Sakusa x fem!reader

TW: kidnapping, stalking, drugging, controlling behavior, Kiyoomi is secretly a wee bit of a misogynist, he makes a few comments about Reader's weight but there's no explicit descriptors, allusions to reader purposefully hurting themself, reader suffers a minor concussion but it was an accident, implied noncon, mentions of physical abuse, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Considerate

Kiyoomi is not an especially generous person. He’s civil, sure, and adheres to social customs enough to not be considered too rude, but he’s never really understood the need to stick out one’s neck at the expense of others.

And so Kiyoomi is equal parts intrigued and frustrated by a darling who’s empathetic and cognizant of others’ desires and wants. He thinks it’s admirable, if not a bit naïve, but it’s not until they stick their neck out for him that he really begins noticing them.

It’s small things – offering him the package of communal sweets first so that he can have the first bite, their smile seeming too big when they tell him that they know he hates when other people touch his food first. It’s the way they always ask about his day, asking about specific details when his blanket statement of fine doesn’t seem to be enough.

(And specifically, it’s the way they ask about how he felt, rather than simply what he did. It makes him pause and think, glancing at them like they’re crazy, but finding himself slightly intrigued because he can’t remember the last time someone had asked about his feelings.)

It irritates him, more than anything, but as his friendship with them grows, Kiyoomi finds himself almost growing protective over how invested his darling is in others. It’s dangerous to be so selfless, don’t they know?

They’re practically asking to be taken advantage of, and while Kiyoomi tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care in the beginning, it becomes harder and harder to maintain that air as his feelings slowly begin festering.

It’s just a sign of stupid kindness, he thinks, but it nonetheless draws him in, desperation to be seen by his darling insatiable.

Smart

Unfortunately, Kiyoomi is a bit of a snob. And although his profession isn’t exactly academic, he still likes to think of himself as a man with decent taste, or at least someone with a good head on his shoulders. And so, having a darling who is equally as intelligent is something that Kiyoomi absolutely must have.

He can’t tolerate a ditzy partner, finding himself growing too irritated to stand being around them. Instead, he needs a darling that’s quick-witted, perhaps even snarky like him to match his wit and challenge him intellectually.

Despite what proves to be a distinctly possessive and controlling edge in his relationship with his darling, he does truly find their intellect and ability to think for themselves wildly attractive.

(He limits this, of course, feeling that his thoughts and feelings are ever so slightly better for his darling’s wellbeing, but it’s still a significant source of where his attraction is stemming from.)

And because Kiyoomi needs to have been friends with his darling for a significant period of time before his infatuation fully settles in, his darling needs to be smart enough for him to feel like they’re an equal in a platonic, friendship-based setting.

They don’t need to be a genius, but Kiyoomi respects those who are inquisitive and able to foster a healthy curiosity about the world around them. It’s sweet, and while he’s never given much thought to having kids (because while he feels he’d be a decent father, he’s not sure if he could handle having such disgusting things latching onto his leg or drooling over his shoulder), the mother of his children absolutely must have a good sense of judgement and wits about her.

It’s just so appealing to him, and even as his obsession festers and grows, eventually trapping his darling away, he still expects to see that fire in their eyes, loving the way they seem to understand what he’s thinking without him even needing to say it.

Flexible

Because Kiyoomi is so particular, in order to develop a friendship with him, his darling needs to be flexible. They need to be able to understand his preferences, and understand that he’s moody.

A stubborn darling that butts heads with him will only lead to Kiyoomi growing frustrated, and instead he’d prefer someone who’s more complacent with his own desires. It’s a trait that Kiyoomi is a bit embarrassed to say he finds attractive, if only because it’s an admission of knowing that he can be difficult to be around, but the comfort that his darling provides for him in this aspect is one that makes his feelings grow exponentially.

He wants to feel comfortable and cared for in their presence, and a darling that’s willing to do whatever he would prefer not only soothes his anxieties, but it spoils him in a way that makes his heart flutter, his cheeks blooming ever so slightly pink and his palms clamming up a bit.

It’s just so very sweet, and it leaves him feeling only more eager to be in their presence, desperate to spend every waking moment he can with them.

And as his infatuation continues, this is a key trait that allows his feelings to fester and grow to the degree of feeling constantly on edge without his darling in his sight.

He’s able to insert himself into their life more easily this way, able to control every aspect of their life, keep them away from potential suitors, keep them looking at him and him only.

Clean

This one isn’t as imperative, but similarly to matching his intellect, Kiyoomi appreciates a partner who’s naturally cleaner. He’s comforted by the knowledge that his darling isn’t dirty, that when he gets brave enough to reach out and oh so carefully, hesitantly run his fingertips over the soft skin of their palm, that they’ve washed their hands recently.

He likes knowing that the wonderful, lovely scent of their hair is a mixture of their natural scent and shampoo, making his eyes roll to the back of his head because he just wants to keep inhaling and inhaling, breathing in as deeply as humanly possible to consume as much of them as he can.

There’s this subtle sense of pride that settles into his chest when he enter their apartment for the first time, pleased to see the way their living-space reflects his own – perhaps with elements of their personality, maybe more colors or patterns or photographs of friends and family, but it’s almost too easy to see himself pulling his darling into his side on the spotless sofa sitting in their living room.

It’s disturbingly easy to fantasize about pulling the covers of their well-made bed over his head, black curls brushing against his darling’s navel as he travels lower and lower, listening to their gasps and moans as he greedily laps at the spot between their freshly washed legs.

It’s just reassuring, and it only pushes his obsession deeper because he takes it as yet another sign that he and his darling are entirely compatible, a perfect match that he’d be a fool to let go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Gradual

Despite his status as an internationally known professional athlete, Kiyoomi’s habits haven’t changed much since his youth. He’s still not especially interested in any sort of romantic relationship – he’s picky, incredibly so, and it takes him an extremely long time to feel comfortable enough with someone to actually be willing to be open and vulnerable with them.

(Particularly in the context of anything intimate – he needs to be very, very comfortable with them to reach the point where he’d willingly kiss them, touch them, or, god forbid, be inside of them.)

He’s not fully against the idea, but he’s realistic enough to know that he’d be a hard partner to please, and he just isn’t all that interested in finding someone. He’s got his career to worry about, and with all the traveling he does and his own personal idiosyncrasies, it would just be easier to not have a significant other.

And frankly, this mentality sticks with him – you have to have known Kiyoomi for quite some time before he develops feelings for you. At the absolute minimum, he must’ve been truly friendly with you for three years; that way, he can solidly say he finds you tolerable, that you’re acceptably clean, not too annoying, someone he doesn’t hate being around.

And even once his feelings begin forming, it’s a slow process – he doesn’t just suddenly wake up and decide that he’s in love with you. No, it’s much more gradual, much more subtle – he doesn’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late, after all.

It starts off as little things that he notices; a new haircut of yours (it was just a trim, something small and something even you had difficulty noticing) that he comments on absentmindedly, telling you it looks nice, this hairstylist is much better than the last one.

He’ll notice that you’ve changed your style a bit; maybe you bought a new pair of pants and you’re a little nervous about wearing them because they’re cute, but it’s a new color or a new cut or just a little bit outside your comfort zone. (He’ll blink and stare when you settle into the other chair at the café, your nerves getting the better of you as you ask what he’s staring at, only to get the rather flat response are your pants new? I like them.)

He's always been observant, noticing little things about you, but normally they’re things about your personality, or things about your likes or dislikes. He knows your favorite ice cream flavor, and which brands to avoid when he’s buying you some for your biweekly movie night (something you had to beg him to start, but now he finds himself looking forward to – enough that he’s counting down the minutes in practice that day, dark eyes glancing at the clock every few minutes and sighing lightly at how slowly time is moving).

He’s always known you were a bit of a klutz, and that your spatial awareness leaves a lot to be desired, just because he knows you. You’re tight friends, after all. But lately the things he’s been noticing are less platonic and less general, and more relating to your looks.

He’s never noticed that you have a fleck of another color in your eyes – it’s pretty, and when you turn your head just right in the sunlight, it makes your eyes glow.

He’s never noticed that you fill out your clothing very well; he’s gotten teased for spending so much time with you, sure, Hinata or Atsumu’s dramatic assertions about how the two of you must be more than friends always making him scoff and roll his eyes, disgusted by the implications. But now he finds himself wondering, late at night, with guilt gnawing at him, what it would be like to actually undergo those implications – being physical with you, that is.

His gaze is lingering on your pants a little more than usual, dark eyes staring just a hair too long at your ass, the jeans tight and accentuating every curve you have.

He’ll force himself to stop thinking about it, wondering where the hell that thought had sprung up from, rolling over in bed and shutting his eyes tightly, praying for sleep to come and for the images of the few, accidental times he’d seen you in your bra to stop flashing through his mind.

He notices that his thoughts towards you are changing a bit, but he tries not to think about it. You’re friends – aside from Komori and his teammates, you’re his closest companion, and developing feelings for you would ruin the fragile thing you have. Except his denial of his feelings doesn’t magically make them go away – he’s noticing how often he touches you, without even consciously realizing it. When you hand him some cash to repay him for some snacks he bought you, your fingers brush against his, and he actually freezes when he feels it.

(Your hands are so fucking soft – not hard and calloused like his, not rough and scratchy from years of smacking rock hard volleyballs.)

He never realized that he unconsciously let his hand rest on the small of your back when you guided him through crowds, trying to find the shortest route to minimize his discomfort. (He’d always liked that about you – your acceptance of his dislike of large crowds and germs, never making him feel weird or like a freak for it. You’d even shared an irrational fear or disgust of your own, just to make him feel better – it didn’t, but he appreciated the sentiment.)

Small things begin compiling up for Kiyoomi – things he’d never really noticed or thought about before, but now seem to be at the forefront of his mind. And yet, he still represses his feelings – no, he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and if he acknowledges his feelings for you, he'll want to push your relationship in that direction, to not suffer in silence because he wants more more more.

And yet, as time passes, Kiyoomi finds that he simply can’t not acknowledge what he’s feeling – it’s too much, too strong for him to ignore. His heart physically aches when he’s not around you, his mind racing and whirring with thoughts of what you’re doing, how you’re feeling, who you’re with, if you’re thinking of him.

It’s overwhelming, and it gets to the point where Kiyoomi literally cannot function without recognizing just how far gone his feelings for you are – it's effecting his playing, his relationships with his teammate, his eating habits, even his sleeping. You’re just too all-encompassing, his feelings to fucking intense – intense enough to leave him staring at his ceiling night after night, the bright screen of his phone illuminating his bedroom as he scrolls through photo after photo after photo of you.

Always you.

Possessive

Kiyoomi’s feelings, while strong and nauseating and so, so very good, really end up intensifying to an unbearable level from a single, main cause – he absolutely cannot stand watching you interact with other men.

He can’t repress the way jealousy claws at his throat, making his mouth taste sour and his gut twist because who the fuck is that man you’re talking to?

All it takes is one instance of a man flirting with you while Kiyoomi is present for these feelings to spark up – frankly, he's shocked that the man had the gall to approach you when you’re with someone as famous and handsome as Kiyoomi Sakusa, but perhaps he’d only felt confident enough because you were smiling at this stranger, standing close to him, laughing at a joke.

His fists clench up, dark brows drawing tight as he watches, the bustling café too loud for him to pick out exactly what’s being said. Seeing the way another man looks at you makes his gut sink, and even once you return back to him (with the food you’d ordered for both of you, since you know how much he hates talking to strangers), he can’t shake off his sour mood. From that moment forward, Kiyoomi is forced to confront his feelings – specifically, the ugly, twisting mess of emotions he feels whenever you’re around another man.

He grows possessive of you remarkably fast, hating when your attention strays from him, particularly if the new target is another person. Another man, really. It makes all these insecurities begin sprouting up in his chest – things he thought he’d long moved past, doubts and self-criticisms that make him feel weak, helpless, pathetic.

When he sees you catch eye contact with the man passing you on the sidewalk, your smile and small good morning makes him think about whether this stranger can stand being in a crowd for longer than three minutes. (He probably can, something Kiyoomi can’t – this man could take you to all those concerts you talk about, and he could take you to fun amusement parks and be in the crowd at sporting events and museums and all sorts of things that Kiyoomi can’t.)

When he sees you laugh and apologize to the man you nearly ran over with your shopping cart in the grocery store, Kiyoomi can’t help but notice how easily the man’s smile comes, his entire aura radiating positivity and happiness, the little tease and joke he makes in response to your apology making Kiyoomi’s hair bristle, unease sitting in his chest because no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t be so carefree and socially comfortable.

(Would you prefer someone more confident and natural in social settings, someone who can make you laugh so easily and introduce himself to strangers, shaking their hand and telling them with any sort of honesty that it’s nice to meet them? Kiyoomi hopes not, please be no.)

He grows pessimistic at the prospect of you interacting with others, because Kiyoomi recognizes that he probably isn’t your type. It makes him feel insecure, worthless, ugly, but more than anything it makes him panic, his fingers shaking and his knee bouncing because he absolutely cannot allow another man to come along and sweep you off your feet.

He needs to do something – and do it quickly, because you’re beautiful and gorgeous and funny and sweet and smart and so fucking perfect, and surely another man will realize that soon and you’ll be gone forever, all while he’s left to watch and stand by, forever regretting that he let this happen. And so, Kiyoomi decides that his only option is to try and limit your time with other men – meaning, he needs to monopolize more of your time, keep you with him, your company limited to only your family, coworkers, and him.

It’s the only way – and while he’s never been particularly subtle about anything, even you will be shocked at how blatantly he acts on this desire.

He's calling you up more, sending texts with flying fingers asking if you’re busy tonight, if you’d like to move your movie night up a few days, if you’d like to go get lunch at the ramen shop Bokuto won’t shut up about, if you’d like to stay the weekend with him at the VRBO he’d already rented on a beautiful little lake.

(He won’t tell you he’d chosen that one specifically because there was both a lake and a hot tub present, meaning he’d get to see you in your swimsuit hopefully more than once, but still.)

He becomes desperate to get your attention solely on him, and while you’ll be surprised, you won’t give it too much thought. Kiyoomi’s always been a little strange, and if he wants to further your friendship, you wouldn’t put up a fight.

But then he’s also scowling when you bring up the name of any other man, even when you’re alone – talking about any of your friends or any of his teammates gets him clenching his fist so hard his perfectly manicured nails dig into his palms, sometimes even pressing hard enough to draw blood.

You’ll notice his discomfort, the way he tenses up, how his voice gets terse and he talks less than normal, and when you ask him about it, he’ll only bite out an I don’t want to talk about another man with you. It’s cryptic, kind of, and it’ll take you aback, but you’ll respect his wishes, mentally noting how odd his behavior is.

And really, that’s how it’ll all progress – you’ll write off Kiyoomi’s strange, possessive behavior, which only makes him further push the envelope, not allowing you to talk about another man in his presence, or even look at them or stand close to one. It’s too much, and it’ll make you uncomfortable, but Kiyoomi’s too far gone.

And frankly, before you pluck up the courage to actually seriously confront him about it, it’s too late – your mouth is already being covered with the chloroform rag, your body going limp and landing in his arms, the sound of him deeply inhaling next to your hair and the low whimper he lets out making you dread when you’ll awaken even more.

He just wants your attention on him, and even more than that, he can’t accept the idea of you leaving him – you’re close, you’re friends, even though the word makes him spit, and he won’t let you leave him. You aren’t allowed to, he won’t let you. So don’t even bother trying.

Controlling

Tying into his more possessive traits, Kiyoomi slowly begins morphing into someone you hardly know.

He becomes blinded by his obsession with you, allowing himself to become more and more omnipresent in your life, worming his way into every little aspect of the way you live, from who you spend your time with to the clothing you wear. Though he’s not particularly subtle, the beginnings of his more controlling behavior will actually spark up long before he realizes how he feels for you.

Much before he’s come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t mind waking up with you wrapped in his arms every morning, he’s telling you that you really should consider waking up at a more reasonable time. It doesn’t matter if you’re a chronic oversleeper, or if you rise with the sun every morning – you’re always doing something wrong, really, and Kiyoomi will point it out to you.

(This is done in a genuine effort to get you to healthier, though. It doesn’t really feel like it when he’s criticizing you for your lack or overindulgence in sleep, his words snarky and cutting, but the motivation behind his prodding into your sleep schedule is to make sure that your body is getting the appropriate amount of rest. To make sure that you’re taking care of yourself, really – because Kiyoomi simply doesn’t trust that you know how.)

Long before he realizes that he wants to press kisses against the column of your throat and feel your soft, warm pulse underneath his lips, Kiyoomi recognizes that you don’t take perfect care of your skin. You could always use a better moisturizer, a better toner, take more time in the mornings and evening to make sure your skin is glassy and smooth and soft.

(He won’t insinuate that you’re ugly, of course, because Kiyoomi is many things but not a liar. But that doesn’t mean he won’t make comments about how he thinks you’ve gotten more pimples recently because your creams are expired, dropping skincare recommendations on you unsolicited and without batting an eye. And when they arrive on your doorstep the next day, shipped with the fastest service possible that you know costs nearly double the regular speed, you can’t even truly get mad at Kiyoomi – after all, his skin is perfect, and maybe he does know more about skin care than you do. The least you could do is try the new products, right? It would be rude not to.)

He’s always been a bit controlling about how he wants things done, but where you’re concerned this is only amplified – it’s a response to caring about you more than anything. He loves you, feels such deep, horrible yearning for you that he feels he must have a say in your life. He’s a successful man, with the last puzzle piece of his life missing being a sweet, loving wife who dotes on him and he on her in return.

And perhaps it’s a coping mechanism to make up for all the years of feeling ostracized, having minimal friends and even less romantic pursuits, finding himself suddenly feeling the pressure to make sure that everything is absolutely perfect because can’t fuck up what he has with you.

He’s become too dependent, too reliant on your presence in his life, and he becomes all-consumed and paranoid at the thought of accidentally doing something to dissuade you from wanting to spend time with him. He won’t change himself for you (or, at least, not too drastically – just enough to keep you interested in him, just enough to keep you in his life), but Kiyoomi is putting every possible effort into making sure that everything goes according to plan.

Expensive dinners are meticulously analyzed, dark brows furrowing at each potential obstacle as he mentally rehearses for the date.

(He’ll order to smoked fish fillet, and you’ll have either the pasta or maybe the salad. But wait. Is it rude to recommend the salad to you? Would you perceive it as a comment on your weight? He wants to see you eating more vegetables, but he doesn’t want you to think he finds your body displeasing – absolutely not, not when he spends most mornings with a hand pressed against the shower wall, water mixing with sweat and dribbling down the curves of his back, other hand feverishly pulling and tugging at his cock, your name slipping between his lips like some sort of prayer.)

He's planning out who will attend your wedding, the seating arrangements, the colors and flower choices, even what your dress will look like and how you’ll style your hair. (It sounds sweet, really – except that it isn’t, because if things don’t go exactly how he’s expecting them to, Kiyoomi will panic, worry eating away at him because no no no! Everything needs to go according to plan, otherwise things will fall apart and you’ll look at him with disappointment and just the thought is making it hard to breath and he needs to see you right now and reach out and touch you and hear you say his name fuck fuck fuck -)

He becomes overly concerned with every little behavior that you exhibit, always making a comment on this or that, his eagerness for your approval (and your obedience) making it difficult for him to notice the way you roll your eyes or how you hesitate, slightly offended at the way he tells you to stop eating like you’re poor, chew slower.

Everything is done with the intent of trying to better your relationship, to make sure the two of you are as compatible as possible, but the execution will leave you often times feeling as if he’s purposefully belittling you, your irritation and anger growing but then tapering out when he looks at you with those eyes.

It’s hard to stay mad when you’re nearly his only friend, the authenticity in his voice when he says that he loves you making it hard to stay mad at one of your closest friends. Just don’t say that – it’ll have his eye twitching, something ugly clawing at his chest because in what fucking world are you two just friends? 

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

As a general rule, Kiyoomi does not handle jealousy well. He’s always been an envious person, but once his attachment to you forms and he becomes aware of just how badly he needs you – both emotionally and physically – his jealousy only increases, his intolerance of other people greedily sucking up your time lowering monumentally.

Because really, that’s what it is, isn’t it?

Other people – worthless, unknown, people who don’t even really know you like he does – wanting your time and attention all for their own selfish, gluttonous desires. It’s disgusting, frankly, how these people think they have any right to see your smile, to hear your voice, to feel your hand brushing against their own when you’re handing something to them.

(And oh, what an experience that is – Kiyoomi’s entire body stiffens up when he feels your skin against his, his mouth feeling dry and his pupils dilating because god, you’re so soft and warm and he’s never felt this urge before – the urge to reach out and take more, to keep touching you and feel his way up your arm, to press against the curving bones of your collarbone, to thumb over the plains of your ribcage, to take a handful and squeeze what he’s sure are two very, very soft and supple breasts… Just the thought has him breathing heavily, staring at you with this look that makes your skin crawl ever so slightly, the intensity and the concentration nearly scaring you.)

His possessive streak is bad enough that he finds himself actively seeking out men who may be interested in you when he’s in public with you – you’ll be happily chatting away, animatedly waving your arms as you tell him about the latest episode of your show you’ve been watching, and while he wants to be listening, to give you his full, undivided attention and watch the way your mouth moves when you speak, how your eyes light up, hear how you occasionally say his name, the lilting Ki-yoo-mi making his knees weak, he can’t focus.

Instead, he’s glancing around the cafe you’re sitting in, mentally noting every man and what they’re doing – there’s a brunette in the corner with his laptop open, what looks like email after email being fired off with rapt, quick fingers flying over his keyboard.

An irrational pang of fear shoots through Kiyoomi – do you ever receive emails at such a rapid pace? How often do men email you, and is truly as professional as you claim? How well do you know the mind of a man looking at you as nothing more than a walking pussy?

Another man is sitting near the fireplace, his phone in hand a scowl sitting across his features. He’s practically yelling into the receiver, telling off what Kiyoomi presumes to be his secretary because of some misplaced papers. Kiyoomi winces, grinding his teeth and clutching onto his coffee cup tighter because has any man ever yelled at you like that? Have you ever been screamed at, wrongfully blamed for something, or have you ever cried because of some horrible, lousy man?

(Kiyoomi isn’t a particularly violent person, but the mental imagery of leaving the man’s face purple and blue makes something warm and fuzzy and good settle in his chest, a sense of satisfaction and a rush of adrenaline nearly making him dizzy.)

Even the cashier has Kiyoomi on edge – he’s smiling like an idiot, greeting each customer with that infuriating, chipper tone of his, and it’s immediately making your coffee partner irritated, wondering with only the smallest big of insecurity whether you’d like that more – someone more outgoing, someone more friendly, someone less difficult than him.

Every time he's with you, the constant feeling of sizing up the other men in the vicinity is always weighing him down, the fear that you could potentially lose interest in him and instead develop an attraction to someone else leaving his paranoid and quite frankly scared – you wouldn’t leave him, would you? You wouldn’t abandon him, would you?

The thought is enough to make him guide you towards a less crowded area, back towards his apartment, back to where it’s just you and him – how it should be.

Kiyoomi knows he shouldn’t have let you talk him into coming to the supermarket. There’s a reason he pays for his groceries to be delivered to him – it’s too busy, too loud, too many unaware people walking around with no regard for personal space or respect. It’s irritating, really, but you’d been looking at him with those pearly eyes and fucking pouting, and how could he have possibly said no to that?

Not when you were saying his name with that low tone of yours, practically purring it, making it nearly impossible for him not to snap and tangle his fingers into your hair, to pull you as close as physically possible and suck hickey after hickey into the sensitive, delicate skin of your neck. He’d been a goner the moment you’d brought it up, and it’s only now, as he’s standing at your side in the bread aisle, that Kiyoomi feels the full regret of his decision.

After all, the rather attractive blond man at the end of the aisle certainly hasn’t slipped his notice – the man’s tall (though not as tall as Kiyoomi, of course), decently muscular (though Kiyoomi knows he has much more definition in his quads, the lines dancing along his thighs and calves drool-worthy compared to the stranger’s), and staring rather intently at the shelved loaves in front of him.

It makes Kiyoomi’s eye twitch; he’s purposefully placed himself between you and the stranger, hoping that this vantage point blocks as much of the man from your view as possible. You’re too engrossed in your selection process to really notice, Kiyoomi knows, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying, the nagging voice in the back of his head urging him to minimize your chances of even acknowledging this mildly attractive stranger.

He’s still got that familiar unimpressed look in those dark eyes (mixed with a touch of adoration as he watches you bite your lip and furrow your brows, the sight pulling at his heart and almost, almost making him forget all about his jealousy), and that look only darkens as he hears footsteps on the linoleum flooring behind him.

He moves closer to you, opening his mouth to tell you that you should just grab the nearest loaf and leave, but the man beats him to it. His voice is timid, scared, even, and for just a split second it leaves Kiyoomi feeling smug – for all this man’s physical attractiveness, surely you wouldn’t want such a meek, submissive man. Not when you could have someone like Kiyoomi – someone stronger, more masculine, more dominant, more of a man.

The man’s question is innocent, all things considered – he reaches towards the loaf of bread you’d already stashed away in your shopping cart, pointing a finger and asking where did you find that?

Immediately Kiyoomi’s stiff, every muscle in his body going taut because no matter how you react to the man’s question, he won’t like the result. Your mouth parts into an adorable little ‘o’ that gets Kiyoomi biting his lip, before you smile and point towards the opposite end of the aisle, answering with a chipper, oh-so-fucking-cute response of right down there!

Kiyoomi’s brows knit together as the man thanks you, moving forward to go in search of the loaf you’d guided him towards. As the man passes, those dark eyes settle on his figure, leaving him to pick up his pace, the heavy weight of Kiyoomi’s stare making him noticeably uncomfortable.

As soon as the man is out of earshot, Kiyoomi snatches your wrist, his grip tight and making you nearly wince, his other hand reaching out to grab the loaf you’d been eyeing. Come on, we’re leaving, is all he says, walking with purpose in the opposite direction of the man.

You’re out of the grocery store before you can blink, Kiyoomi slipping his credit card back into his wallet and guiding you towards his car. You’re confused, really, and as you blabber on about how he didn’t need to pay for your groceries and ask about what’s gotten into him, Kiyoomi can only usher you into the front seat, throwing the grocery bags into the trunk and taking a final glance around him. The man seems to still be in the store, and Kiyoomi clicks his tongue, a small pang of relief racing through him.

As he settles into the driver’s seat and puts the car into reverse, he glances over at you, soaking in the sight of you in his car with his old sweatshirt on. His lips quirk up at the edges, the smile small, before stepping onto the gas, driving away from the store and trying to forget the sight of your smile being aimed at someone else.

He grips the steering wheel hard, focusing on the sound of your voice to calm him – your voice saying thank you for the ride, Kiyoomi, you’re the best.

(A sound replaying over and over and over in his head later that night, with the too-bright screen illuminating your photographed face and casting shadows over his naked body covered in a light sheen of sweat. The best, huh?)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Really, as soon as Kiyoomi realized that his feelings for you were something so much deeper than he could ever imagine, he’d begun planning for your eventual relocation to his home. There’s a variety of reasons why he’s so eager, so insistent: it’s easier, and it makes more sense.

Because really, while Kiyoomi doesn’t want to steal you away, he doesn’t really have much of a choice, does he? You’re too independent for your own good – you’re always going out and doing things, seeing people, putting yourself in a position not only of meeting potential love interests, but also one of danger.

 Kiyoomi rationally knows that you’re strong and can make informed decisions, but there’s a part of him that slowly grows to doubt your abilities. It’s not that you’re incapable, but more like you aren’t the most qualified to make choices about your own health and life.

And really, doesn’t it make more sense for him to guide you? Kiyoomi, who is successful, wealthy, the pinnacle of health and fitness, and much more calm and collected than you. Surely he knows better – and you’d agree, wouldn’t you?

You always seem to support his choices, laughing and telling him that he’s so predictable and logical whenever he rants about his teammates and general annoyances. You always sound so in awe of him, the praise and tone going directly to his head, making his palms feel a little clammy and his voice getting a little hoarse because oh, being seen and complimented by you feels very, very good.

And so really, it only makes sense that Kiyoomi steals you away – he’s already controlling, but he isn’t with you at all hours of the day, and can you really be trusted to be constantly making smart, responsible decisions every waking moment?

You don’t know what’s best for you, and in order to have you in peak health and keep you utterly, completely his, this is the only way. But to Kiyoomi’s credit, he gives you ample opportunity to willingly come to him. His attempts to ask you out are, objectively, not particularly romantic, but his requests for you to stay the night are met with little resistance from you.

It’s typical, after all, for you to stay over at his place in his spare bedroom after you’ve drunk just a bit too much, sleeping off the tipsiness because Kiyoomi will be damned before he lets you out on the road in the wrong state of mind.

(Not for the safety of others, of course – solely for you, because if you were to get injured or, god forbid, die, Kiyoomi genuinely thinks he may never recover, the pain and guilt of losing you driving his mad with grief. Besides, you look very, very enticing all tangled up in his spare sheets, your pretty body so scantily clad in the t-shirt he’d loaned you and a pair of workout shorts that ride very, very low on your hips. Enticing enough to have him standing in the doorframe of the room, entirely motionless as he watches you slumber, swallowing thickly and not letting his eyes drift from your form for sometimes hours on end, just watching and waiting.)

But then those requests to spend the night start happening more days out of the week than you’re comfortable with, happening multiple nights in a row, so much so that you’re starting to spend more time at Kiyoomi’s place than your own – and so when you start denying his requests, he resorts to one final tactic.

Of course, it doesn’t feel good to be unscrew a few things under your bathroom sink as he ‘uses the restroom’, but it’s necessary. When you call in a panic later that day about how your apartment is flooded and your landlord is furious over the water damage, Kiyoomi will try his best to be sympathetic, to not sound as flat and mildly pleased when he offers to let you crash at his place for a few days until it all gets sorted out. He’ll mess with your piping first, then your thermostat.

(He’ll tell you on the phone that losing your heating during the height of winter isn’t a joke, I don’t care how many blankets you have you’ll still freeze to death – and who’ll have to organize your funeral? Me, so don’t be selfish.)

Then he’ll go so far as to start stealing things out of your apartment – of course, he’s always been a bit heavyhanded in ‘borrowing’ your things (mostly inconsequential things that he knows you wouldn’t notice, like little knick-knacks or pairs of clean socks – things that make him feel more connected to you and are the perfect size to fit underneath his pillow at night, of course), but then he starts looting away more serious items. Your books go missing, your jewelry, cups from your cupboards, even going so far as to steal your laptop or your speakers or anything else he knows you’ll miss.

And when you’re running to him and telling him that someone’s targeting your apartment, that you’re feeling unsafe, that you think someone’s been repeatedly robbing you and breaking into your apartment, he'll only sigh and tell you that you’d be stupid to not live with him for a while, that you’re practically asking for death by staying in that tiny little thing you call an apartment for any longer.

And in the event that you’re still planning on living on your own after all these attempts to force your dependence on him, Kiyoomi will see no other option – having you live with him is like his own personal heaven, and he’ll be damned if he loses the feeling of falling asleep under the same roof as you, of hearing your pretty snores and seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you slumber.

You’re just too damn perfect, and so you really, really shouldn’t be too surprised when Kiyoomi’s got the rag held over your nose, his words cold in your ear as he tells you to stop struggling, you’re only making this harder. After all, he’s made himself perfectly clear – it’s not his fault you didn’t pick up on the signs.

As a captor, Kiyoomi retains a lot of his mannerisms from before stealing you away. He’s still a bit harsh with you, his tongue biting and cold, but the difference becomes that Kiyoomi doesn’t bother trying to hide the nature of his feelings anymore.

You’d been aware that his interest shifted from a more platonic to romantic nature sometime along the way, but now there’s absolutely no way to misinterpret his actions – not when he’s resorted to making you sit so close to him on the couch, those dark eyes expectant when you don’t immediately shuffle into his side. He’ll stare for a while, before sighing, like it’s all some big chore, then grabbing you and forcing you to practically sit in his lap, all the while grumbling about you being so damn difficult, aren’t women supposed to love cuddling?

He’s making you take all your meals with him, forcing you to sit at the modest wooden dining table, the rather bland meal of white rice, fish and a roasted, unseasoned vegetable looking less appetizing with every day.

(He won’t let you cook, however – his protective tendencies show most when it comes to you being in the kitchen, if only because he doesn’t trust you to not injure yourself. There’s just too many possibilities – you could cut yourself, burn yourself, use the cheese grater or the potato peeler to tear off a layer of skin, you could squeeze lemon juice into your eyes or get jalapeno residue at your waterline. There’s just too much that could happen, and while Kiyoomi would absolutely love to have you entirely dependent on him if you were to become injured, the idea of knowingly letting you hurt yourself makes something bitter tinge in his mouth, his legs getting restless and his fingers twitching because he needs to do something to prevent that from happening.)

He’s curating a wardrobe for you, making sure to dress you in his favorite colors, rich fabrics, comfortable designs, things that he thinks will make you happy but still fit his tastes. (And besides, you’ve always complimented him on his own fashion choices – surely you’d trust him on this too, right?) There’s lots of complimentary colors and designs to match his own clothing, enjoying the way you two look right when you’re together, a smile gracing his lips and prompting him to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger, bringing it up to his lips and letting his tongue dart out ever so quickly, just to catch a small taste of you.

He’s controlling, always dictating what you do, what your plan for the day is while he’s gone, but it’s always done with the intention of trying to keep you safe and what he hopes will make you happy.

He’s investing a large portion of his very generous salary to getting the best supplies of any hobbies you have (as long as they revolve around music, art, anything that couldn’t possibly hurt you), always demanding you show him the progress you’ve made that day. It’s a desire to get you to interact with him, but it also makes pride swim in his gut to know that you’re getting better using the things he bought for you.

(And perhaps, there’s even some small part of you that’s improving to impress him… Just the thought makes him gulp heavily, having to shift his pants ever so slightly because the idea of you wanting to impress him, to seek his approval, to make him happy gets him hot under the collar.)

Life will become very monotonous with him. It’s a routine, with any deviation planned out in advance, Kiyoomi finding comfort in the order and consistently. It helps quell the anxiety stirring in his gut when he’s away for tournaments or away-matches, his knee always anxiously bobbing as he imagines what you’re doing.

He’ll whip his phone out nearly ever five minutes, tapping into the multitude of cameras he has set up around the apartment just to keep an eye on you, visibly relaxing when he sees you tucked up into bed, stepping out of the shower, or even reading on the sofa.

(He’s harsher than normal when Hinata bounces up and asks what he’s looking at, his words dripping in an extra layer of venom as he tells his fellow spiker to get away from me, it’s a private matter. Because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone see you in any sort of intimate, raw way – you’re for his eyes only, and Kiyoomi would rather cut off his left hand than let the redhead get even a glimpse of you.)

Kiyoomi is omnipresent, a trace of him present in every aspect of your life, and while it’s exhausting, humiliating, enraging, you’ll eventually grow tired of trying to rebel. He’s a patient man, but you can only handle so many derogatory comments, so many failed escape attempts (he has the best, most up-to-date security measurements around the apartment, of course) before you decide it may be better to simply accept this as your new fate.

After all, Kiyoomi isn’t that bad, right? You’d been friends for years – you know he’s a good person, and perhaps this is just a lapse in his judgement. Maybe he’s not thinking clearly. Maybe he’ll lose interest in you, or decide that what he’s doing it wrong.

You’ll cling onto the hope, repeating the mantra over and over in your head, but by the fifth year of living under his lock and key with a baby nursing at your breast, it’ll be very, very difficult to pretend that this isn’t your reality.

So really, it’s in your best interest to just accept him, to accept this – you’ll be happier this way. He promises.  

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, Kiyoomi is actually remarkably patient with you. Somewhere deep down, below all of the twisted, dark manifestations of his feelings, he does truly love you. And while his controlling behavior and the way he expects you to give him all of your time, attention, energy, and focus is exhausting and at times dehumanizing, Kiyoomi never truly wants to hurt you.

And as a result, it’s unlikely that he’ll ever lash out in a way more substantial than verbally. He’d never physically hurt you, as seeing you with even the slightest discoloration or bruise makes him near inconsolable, anger seeping into every part of his body because you absolutely cannot be hurt, not when he’s the one who’s supposed to be your perfect, caring, protective partner.

He won’t take away your basic rights, either – though, in all fairness, they’re effectively gone once he realizes the depth of his feelings for you. He forces you to spend all your time with him, share meals and wear the clothing that he picks out for you, and so aside from forcing himself to be present while you relieve yourself or perhaps feeding you with his own hands, there really aren’t too many personal rights that he could take away even if he wanted to.

Kiyoomi does have a tendency to be a bit mean when he gets frustrated or afraid, however. You’ve always known this about him – his snarky personality is what initially drew you to him as a friend, but there’s something more cutting and biting about the way it feels when he’s looking at you with a mix of such devotion and anger, the love pooling in those dark eyes scaring you even more than the way they crinkle at the edges, wrinkling dotting his forehead as he frowns and scoffs at you.

It’s hurtful, really, when he makes comments about things he knows you’re insecure about – perhaps your weight, your smile, your curves, your laugh, your intelligence, anything and everything because he needs to make you understand how you’re making him feel, how it hurts him just as much as it hurts you.

It’ll make your eyes sting, the venom in his voice enough to make you crumple in on yourself, and it’s only after Kiyoomi’s left and calmed down enough to breath normally again that he realizes just how truly devastated his comments make you. He’s softer, after that, approaching you with shaking hands and a tone that’s laced with something almost akin to fear, calling your name and pretending that it doesn’t slice through something soft and vulnerable and weak inside him when you flinch at his touch.

He’ll be kinder after that, spoiling you with your favorite foods (even the unhealthy ones, which would normally never be available to you, what with Kiyoomi’s obsession with keeping your diet squeaky clean), watching hours upon hours of your favorite movies and shows, even material purchases of new clothing and expensive jewelry.

It’s not enough to truly make you feel better, but as time passes and the realization that Kiyoomi is truly all you have in this lonely penthouse apartment of his, you’ll grow to appreciate it, even if his words still echo in your head.

But really, what primarily sets Kiyoomi off is your disobedience – his controlling tendencies are so ingrained into him by the time that he’s stolen you away permanently into his home that he simply cannot handle when you aren’t utterly compliant with his every whim and wish.

In his fantasies of you living with him and staying by his side, fueled by possessive need, you’re always so eager to please, doing anything and everything you can to make Kiyoomi happy. And when you contrast this idealized version of your behavior, it’s a rude awakening for him that you aren’t truly happy with him yet, that things aren’t as perfect as he wants them to be. And so, as a defense mechanism he lashes out, spitting out words and lies that make both of your hearts hurt.

But truly, what really warrants the term ‘punishment’ is what happens when something even bigger happens – when you hurt yourself. It doesn’t even have to be purposeful; it still results in utter, blind panic consuming him, his heart racing in his chest and a cold sweat dripping at his brow because you’ve somehow managed to cut your thumb while he was at practice.

It makes him see red, desperation tinging his movements, making his hands tremble and his feet practically flying as he rushes you into the bathroom, applying too many anti-bacterials and wrapping your thumb tightly enough to nearly cut off the circulation. It’s pure, unadulterated dread that seeps into his bones, a panic like he’s never felt before, and this leads to the most extreme reaction Kiyoomi will have to your behavior – that is, he doesn’t like slipping the pill into your food, but your body needs time to rest. You need time to rest. He needs time to simply hold your limp, unconscious body in his arms, clutching onto you like a lifeline and pressing you as tightly against his body as possible just to prove to himself that you’re here, that you’re alive, that you haven’t left him.

Kiyoomi doesn’t necessarily like drugging you, but it’s the only way to keep you from hurting yourself again for the next day or so, the only way to make sure you don’t have a repeat offense.

You hadn’t meant it – really, you swear you hadn’t – when you’d left the shower curtain a little too open. The water wasn’t supposed to be splashing out and leaving a puddle directly outside of the tub.

You know how Kiyoomi gets – irritated by the mess, those dark eyes clouding and frustration settling across his features because you’re so damn clumsy, can’t you notice when the shower curtain’s wide open? As you glanced at the clock sitting against the stark white walls of the bathroom, you bit your lip. He would be home any minute now from practice, surely needing to be in the exact space you currently were, aching to get every bit of sweat off his skin.

The towel clutched in your hand wasn’t absorbing as much as you needed it to, the gray already turned a dark, near black color despite how much water was left on the tiled ground. Cursing, you sat back on your heels, resigning yourself to needing to dirty another one and having to deal with Kiyoomi’s multitude of questions.

But as you shifted your weight, hands braced against your thighs to sit up, the sudden impact of the back of your head against the edge of the marbled countertop make you cry out, the stinging sensation followed by a dull thud making you collapse down. Clutching at the injured area, tears pricked at your lashes, body curling up into a feeble position despite the water now absorbing into the freshly clean clothing you’d just changed into.

Your vision was hazy, everything looking warped and bent, and you only very distantly hear the sound of the multitude of locks on the front door opening, Kiyoomi’s grumpy I’m home resounding through the apartment. His footsteps are heavy as he wanders through the rooms, slowly growing in speed and weight as he begins worrying, unable to find you.

But you do hear when he gets to the bathroom doorway, wide gaze catching sight of your curled-up form and the slew of curses falling past his lips as he immediately drops his bag and stumbles down to you. You’re clutching your head and through your bleary eyes you can see the way all color has drained from his face, eyes blown wide.

He doesn’t bother asking what happened as he scoops you into his arms, adrenaline coursing through him and forcing him to run through the apartment to your shared bed, settling you down as gracefully as possible. Before you can orient yourself he’s already pressing cold cloths against your scalp, shoving thermometers into your mouth and compulsively checking your pulse points, terror still running through him.

He’s muttering under his breath, what sounds like your name mixed with mantras of she’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay, though it sounds less like a statement and more like a hope.

It doesn’t take long for you to slip into unconsciousness, only being awoken a while later by Kiyoomi’s thumb stroking at your cheek, his eyes red and watershot, as if he’d been crying. Drink this, he tells you, holding a glass of what looks like water out to you.

When you don’t move, he grimaces. Please.

Your sips are slow, your head feeling like cotton, and Kiyoomi watches with baited breath, a hand still placed high on your thigh over the covers of your shared bed.

Those dark eyes are still fixed on you as you lean back, sudden exhaustion rolling through you, your own eyes fluttering closed once more. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out once you wake up, but it’s early morning now, from the looks of the barred window, and as you slowly come back to consciousness, trying to ignore the sharp pain in your head, you notice Kiyoomi standing at the end of the bed, seeming to loom over you.

He doesn’t say much, only rushing forward to grasp at your hand and once more check your pulse, sighing with relief when it comes back steady and normal. He doesn’t let go for a long time, still silently staring, watching the way you squirm and wince as your headache throbs. And when you eventually wander out of the room that night to see him making dinner, you won’t bother asking why the calendar shows that two days have passed, nor why there seems to be a thick rubber padding on every desk, table, and counter corner you see. It’s not worth it, really, because you already know the answer.

And as Kiyoomi spots you, the small smile that spreads across his lips makes your skin crawl, your thighs shifting weight as the lacy panties you know you didn’t have on previously tickle against your skin.

Sit down, love, dinner is ready.

And he can only smile when you do, something flickering in his heart at the sight of you looking at him with wide eyes, all confused and pretty and so very pliable. Sure, your concussion is no small injury, but the way you’d been sleeping so soundly in his bed, the smallest snores slipping past your lips and your body seeming to mold against his when he’d pulled you against his chest made him almost grateful for your clumsiness.

Stupid girl, he chides to himself. This is why you need me, can’t you see?

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

 While Kiyoomi himself isn’t inherently dangerous, what makes him such an intense yandere is his blatant disregard for hiding his feelings from you. He doesn’t care whether you see how deeply obsessed with you he is, whether you become aware that he wants nothing more than to keep you with him forever and ever.

Kiyoomi is resourceful and follows through with his plans and goals, so once you’ve gotten his attention, you can kiss any ounce of freedom goodbye. He’s controlling and possessive, and it’ll almost feel like you aren’t even yourself anymore, but Kiyoomi will always be there - looking down at you with an impossible to read expression, before a small flush will coat his cheeks and he’ll gently flick your forehead, telling you that he loves you and that he’s happy to have you with him, where you belong.

Of course, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter, but there’s something deliciously pleasant about pretending that you want to be here, something that makes his heart race and blood rush to both his cheeks and between his legs.

Kiyoomi is a tricky case, because your initial friendship with him and the odd charm of his strange idiosyncrasies will leave you naively blind to the way he slowly devolves into a deeper and deeper state of obsession. You can’t see the way he begins losing himself, all his time and focus beginning to shift only to you, and by the time you truly realize just how far gone he is, it’s too late to get away from him.

Because Kiyoomi has thought of absolutely everything – it’s practically impossible to get away from him, and really, can you so easily disregard years of friendship once the warning signs become clear? Are you so inhuman and cold as to pull away from your closest friend once he starts acting strange?

Perhaps you’re the crazy one here – a sentiment that Kiyoomi will only encourage if it means getting you to touch him, if it means you saying yes to spending the night at his apartment, if it means you say yes when he tells you that pregnancy would suit you.

But really, it doesn’t matter – after all, you’re Kiyoomi’s now, and absolutely nothing will change that.

[eldritch-spouse]

At first, Belo believed his Goddess was just really affectionate physically. She frequently cuddled up to him, burying her face in his chest, or absentmindedly stroking whatever area of his body wasn't covering his soft fur, sighing happily as her hand moved. However, every time she's had a friend over, they'd hug briefly, then… hang out on opposite ends of the couch. Between the short greeting hugs, there was little to no physical contact.

…Does his Goddess only enjoy touching… him?

(while not exactly touch-averse, the Goddess in question just generally prefers to have her own space and tends to show affection in different ways. excluding Belo, obviously. his fur is so SOFT and COMFORTING to touch, it feels like her heart will explode from PURE JOY)

[Adorable! I like this. Fem reader.]

He's always thought he was unworthy of such attention.

Powers like him are only meant to guard and fight for their Lords and Ladies. It's not even their job to worship, not to the extent of other casts, but Belo still likes to think he can perform decently in that field... His kind isn't meant to be showered in attention and rewards, they're taught not to expect such for simply executing their duties.

Yet, since shortly after Belo found his place at your service, you've done nothing if not treat him with endless kindless, endless love.

Part of him had wanted to caution you that touching him is beneath your status. That he didn't deserve it.

Hardly ever would those words manifest, because Belo simply couldn't stop himself from enjoying it. He'd hate himself if he said something that made you truly not touch him anymore.

He's always wondered why you did it.

There's no doubt you enjoy the feeling of his fur. He's memorized the way you like to lace your fingers on the tufts that warm his chest, the way you'll slide from the top of his wings to his arms, leaning onto him just so you can feel more of it. Belo often forgets he tends to lean during those encounters, chases after the hand that pets him, forgetting who he's meant to be and who he's in front of. There's no way to describe the way his heart hammers behind his ribcage, how his eyes will flicker everywhere and he tenses all over -Puffing out that fur you seem to love- before he's floating in his own Eden.

Do you like to touch Belo simply because he's, as you put it, "fluffy"? Do you enjoy touching him because you seek to reward him? Do you touch him because you think he should be the only one who gets to receive that privilege?

Selfishly, he silently wishes you'd touch him more. Many, unfortunately, were the times Belo would get distracted throughout the day, daydreaming of you running your hands all over him, unhindered by his outfit, feeling everything everywhere just because you could, because he's your angel and his body is also yours to keep, to order. The blood in his body would rush elsewhere and the celestial would curve to hide his own shame, even as it continued to throb and demand attention until he succumbed.

Pervertedly, Belo did such an experiment once. He dressed casually. It felt wrong, felt inappropriate to present in such a relaxed manner around the most important figure in his life... But you had expressed delight in his supposed drive to adapt a little bit more, so the guilt was ever so slightly lessened.

That day, there was hardly a limit to your boldness. He remembers you embracing him from behind, arms coming forward to squeeze at his chest and rubbing the soft clumps over his abdomen. The knee-length sports shorts he picked were pushed down slightly. Belo had done it on purpose, and it yielded results. You had, perhaps in distraction, perhaps knowingly, massaged the fur-dense spot right above his slit. The angel couldn't breathe in that moment, he feared he might even collapse if your digits wondered just a tiny bit further. He knew that he would react shamefully but the notion wasn't strong enough to make him prevent such.

He was ready to be punished, if it meant having this small guilty pleasure.

Your phone, that blasted electrical contraption that you love so dearly, rang so jarringly loud in that exact moment that Belo nearly yelped. Your hands were off his overheated body in a blink, and the interaction ceased there, with his Lady none the wiser to the state she left him in.

He could barely feel a shred of indignity for the way disappointment radiated off him in thick waves.

Belo hasn't had the courage to try that again, though it's more than safe to say the memory is engraved in the forefront of his mind.

It got him to... Think about you.

Your actions, your behavior around others.

It's not often you allow people into your sanctuary anymore. Belo insists that you shouldn't invite those beneath you into such close quarters. This ground is pure and protected for the sake of your well-being, to allow ignorant outsiders to disrespect and desecrate this location is an act of self-harm the power will simply not stand by!

Yet still, his Lady's word is final on a lot of matters. There is faith in some people, who you see as good and deserving of your holy presence. The celestial sees naught but lessers in delusion of your supposed "normalcy", but if you believe these individuals are somewhat excusable, then he'll try to see things through your eyes.

You've always tended to keep your distance from them. Not emotionally, physically. This was something Belo was initially quite relieved by, he didn't have to warn you not to put yourself in such unsightly positions. Just the thought made him itch in an unnatural way...

Now though, he wonders why, if you're aware of the distance you should keep from others, you still choose to touch him frequently? Belo is still beneath the honor of such, yet never once do you hold the hands of the people you invite, refuse their embraces, look uncomfortable at the slightest unintentional brush... In contrast, you appear to be greatly comforted by the sensation of his physique.

He freezes, mind running so wild with possibilities that the angel's fingers tremble.

You have clearly made a choice.

There's no one you'd ever like to touch, except Belo.

In your eyes, in your actions, in your mind, he's the only one worthy enough.

He's the only one who can reach your standards!

You only need contact from him.

Belo understands now.

He feels his chest tighten with delight, feels weightless for a second, the rush of euphoria clawing its way up his spine makes his wings flutter and he emits some sort of noise entirely undignified of his cast.

He remained in a state of barely concealed hysteria until you arrived home that day.

For once in his life, he commits something unthinkable.

" Welcome back, my Lady. "

He greets when you step through the door. Instead of standing by your side as he typically does, the angel crowds you, ruffled and tense. You don't get to answer before Belo summons the courage to reach out, to ghost his hands across your soft face and ever so gently, so carefully -like you'd shun him forever otherwise- embrace you in a comforting hug.

He feels as if he broke a thousand rules in one moment alone, but it was worth it.

Because he felt you smile against him.

[tinyproprodigy]

"Look at me..." Student!Gojo x Stoic Special Grade 1 Sorcerer reader (NB)

Geto’s ver - Shoko's ver - Nanami ver 𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

1 - The First Meeting:

It starts when Gojo first sees you in a meeting with Masamichi Yaga in a secluded area of Jujutsu High. His curiosity piques when he sees a sorcerer of your caliber—one not affiliated with the school (though the age of most of the students, almost passing off as one)—exuding a quiet but undeniable power. You’re calm, reserved, and composed, completely different from Gojo's usual playful energy, which only intrigues him more. You barely acknowledge his presence, and that just makes him want to know more about you.

2 - Subtle Beginnings:

At first, Gojo tries to play it off like it’s no big deal. But his friends, Geto and Shoko, start noticing him lingering around Yaga’s office, waiting for you to show up. Geto raises an eyebrow, smirking, while Shoko simply observes, knowing that Gojo’s “harmless” infatuation could lead to something more amusing than he realizes.

3 - Uninvited Encounters:

Gojo doesn’t let the cold indifference you show him get to him. He begins “accidentally” crossing your path more frequently—usually in the hallways, by the cafeteria, or even outside near the gates. His usual cocky attitude doesn’t faze you, but Gojo can’t help but find it amusing that he’s the one trying to make you notice him, rather than the other way around.

4 - The Playful Approach:

He gets more daring in his attempts to get your attention. Sometimes he’ll crack jokes or give you those dramatic, over-the-top greetings like “Oh! It’s you, the mysterious Special Grade 1 Sorcerer! I must be blessed by fate to see you again!” His friends often exchange glances, silently debating whether or not they should step in and save him. But they know Gojo’s persistence won’t back down, even if you don’t respond.

5 - The Silent Challenge:

You remain indifferent, your cold demeanor not wavering. But Gojo’s efforts only grow. One day, he takes it a step further and challenges you to a friendly sparring match. He’s hoping that perhaps you’ll let down your guard a bit during the fight, but you're completely stoic, not even flinching when he pushes you to your limits. He gets an adrenaline rush from the fact that you won’t react to him, which makes him want to break through your walls even more.

6 - Getting Noticed (Finally!!):

One day, after a particularly challenging mission, Gojo catches a glimpse of you talking to Yaga. There’s a moment where you give him a short, almost imperceptible soft glance, and for the first time, Gojo’s heart skips a beat. He can’t be sure if it’s just a casual look, but to him, it’s everything. He smirks to himself, knowing he’s finally started to get under your skin, even if it’s just a little.

7 - Getting Closer:

There’s an unexpected warmth in the way Gojo treats you now. He might still joke around, but there’s an underlying tenderness in his words when he speaks to you. He’s no longer trying to force an interaction but rather seeks you out when he senses that you might need assistance. Whether it's with a cursed object, a piece of advice, or just an awkward silence between the two of you, Gojo gradually becomes more attuned to your needs.

8 - Observing in Silence:

Geto and Shoko are the first to realize Gojo’s interest.

“He’s been unusually quiet,” Shoko says, watching as Gojo stares out the window, clearly lost in thought. “Bet he’s thinking about that Special Grade sorcerer.”

“Oh, you mean the one who looks like they’d rather fight a cursed spirit than talk to him?” Geto teases.

Gojo denies it, of course. “What? No! I’m just intrigued. They’re so mysterious, you know?"

Shoko and Geto begin to notice the subtle shifts in Gojo’s behavior. He's no longer his usual cocky self, especially when it comes to you. His attempts to make you laugh or get a reaction from you have become more genuine. Even though you stay cold and composed, Gojo begins to understand the weight behind your stoicism—perhaps a deep well of unspoken emotions or the weight of your responsibilities as a Special Grade 1 sorcerer. It doesn’t deter him; if anything, it draws him closer.

9 - Quiet Moments:

The real breakthrough comes during a rare, quiet moment after a mission. The two of you are sitting side by side in an empty room, the silence comfortable for the first time. Gojo speaks gently, not in his usual teasing tone but with sincerity. “You know, you’re the only person who can actually make me shut up for five minutes,” he says, giving you a playful smirk. This time, though, you glance at him—just for a second—and he feels a flicker of something more between you.

10 - Unspoken Understanding:

By now, Gojo has become almost hopelessly infatuated with you, in a way that’s different from his usual flirty nature. He doesn’t need you to fall for him right away, but he enjoys the challenge and the quiet moments he shares with you. He loves that you’re someone who doesn’t simply melt at his charms but rather makes him work for your attention. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a spark of something in your gaze every time he teases you—something he plans to explore, no matter how long it takes.

𖤐 ִֶָ 𓂃 🧷

Hope you enjoyed!!! I liked the idea of strictly focusing on Gojo’s pov like how crushes are in real life. It's difficult to gage people's minds and thoughts of you when u often think about the so much and the less you know, the more they draw you in and cooler they are! For all he knows the reader wasn't so indifferent from the start. That's power of POV for you. Like and repost!! My account is practically dead *sympathy wanting sobs intensify* also will be doing a Geto and Shoko ver tomorrow!!!

And now for the serious stuff (˶º⤙º˶)

© property of @tinyproprodigy . please don't claim, copynpaste or translate my work on this and / or any other platforms.

[eeuni]

like him ! b.e

angst, fluff, daddy issues, sh & ed

you had experienced a loss that time would not fix. your father was going around in your mind, after years without knowing about him, you still carried him in your heart everywhere. he was not in a coffin underground, but far away from you. very far away, much more his love. ever since you could remember, his fights with your mother went beyond the limit, broken glass, bleeding knuckles and screams could be seen and heard. after those fights he would grab his things, ready to leave and not come back, telling you that he didn't want to leave you, but he had to do it so he could come back the next day, as if nothing had happened.

you grew up not knowing what to expect, terrified that he would leave again, tired of seeing him leave and come back. he would sit you on the chair, your mother and him crying, repeating that it wasn't your fault but that they were going to start a divorce.

one more lie.

you fell asleep with a bitter taste, at fourteen, what else can you do? bleeding thighs, mirrors covered with sheets, nights without leaving the bed that seemed like your body was slowly beginning to rot. your father took you to the river, taught you how to use a gun, made you laugh.

and for a moment everything seemed to be stable, at least for a year. another fight ruined happiness, confidence, the desire to stay alive. now he has finally left home. "he's coming back tomorrow" you believed.

It had been so long since you saw your father walk through that cursed door. empty house, relapse, therapy, and a new man in the house. your mother's boyfriend. what a detestable thing. your mother complained that you never went out, that you were always sad, that you missed your dad but he was not a good person.

of course you knew, you knew what he had done, but not by his own decision. you left that house behind, you traveled to another country, you looked for a different nickname, you started smoking and being alone as always but in another place.

while you were studying and working you met zoe, your new friend. you discovered that she liked the smiths, so you decided to invite her to lunch. now at 21 you ordered a bottle of alcohol. she told you about billie.

oh, billie.

the beautiful black-haired girl who gave you a smile all the time, who took you to the best places to eat, bought you flowers, did everything in her power to make you look good and happy. you liked her instantly, fell in love within months, and your fear appeared out of nowhere, one summer night.

billie adjusted the sheets of her bed where you now slept almost every night. she hid in your chest, watching you from below smoking a cigarette. her eyes were shining.

"that smells like shit." she spoke, laughing.

"yeah, i know, but it's different when you smoke it." you put out the cigarette, billie had bought about two months ago a cute ashtray with flowers on it for you to use. "you know what? i think i'm broken."

billie looked at you confused, you had said that out of nowhere. "the other day a friend and i were talking, she told me about the love she feels for her friends and partner." you kept talking. "and i was like 'how do you not be afraid? ' "

"about what?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"you know...that you don't know how to love and that in one moment you want to give them all the love in the world and in the second you don't want that person to repeat that they loves you or even touch you." you explained.

she thought about it for a moment, finding it difficult to speak.

"can i tell you something?"

when billie asked that you froze. if that was what you were thinking, you wouldn't know what you would do. you swallowed, sat up better on the bed and looked at her curiously, with fear.

"...yes."

"i think i fell in love with you."

a burning sensation formed in your stomach. of course you loved billie very much, so much that sometimes it was overwhelming and perhaps the fear of not knowing how to love her stopped you from taking any steps that would indicate that you need her. you loved her from afar, in silence, admiring her beautiful being for months.

"what if i hurt you?" was the first sentence that came out of your trembling lips. billie's gaze softened, placing a hand over yours. "what if i don't know how to love? what if i'm a copy of what my father is?"

tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, you began to feel the need to tear your skin off at the thought that you were living it all in your father's body, with his ideas, his traumas, his wounds that continued to bleed. you couldn't hurt her, even if that meant keeping all the love you had for her to yourself and taking a step back.

"hey." she caught your attention, you looked into her eyes again. "what your father is is not synonymous with what you are. you are not in his skin. you love in such a beautiful way, i noticed it. with me, your friends, with people you don't even know. would your father do what you do every day for the people you love?"

you saw him in the back of your mind, grabbing his bags and leaving you for the last time. the first time you wished for him to come back and he wouldn't. by this time you were crying, fighting with yourself.

"you don't mind loving someone who has disorganized attachment?"

"i don't mind loving someone like that, because i know very well that you can overcome any difficult moment." she smiled softly. "and that you love me too much to keep me away."

you laughed at billie's words. she was right, you had created a connection with her where you simply needed her.

"you're right." you proved her right. "i love you too much to keep you away."

"so...that means you're in love with me too?"

she asked, her excitement building behind her heart because she was sure you would say yes, even though a part of her was still afraid. you nodded.

you bit your lower lip and before billie could say anything you captured her mouth in a kiss full of sweetness. you felt every foreign wound beginning to heal. the foreign wounds that your father left on you.

no doubt your expressions were perhaps like his, your way of walking or smiling.

but your way of loving would never be a murder committed by the one where he left the lifeless body on your shoulders. with billie you would learn to leave all that pain aside.

(...)

two years later, billie was now your girlfriend, you lived together with shark. you were sorting through a couple of boxes containing things from your childhood, you looked through a diary you hadn't seen in a long time.

"she said that i made expressions like him.

my waist and my posture like him.

so do i look like him?"

a tear fell. you grabbed a pen, sitting down on the cold floor. you started writing in that old diary from your childhood.

"you can look like him

but you don't love like him."

you heard billie's sweet voice calling you to dinner. "my love?" she asked. you wiped away your tears but before you could compose yourself billie walked into the room, instantly getting worried. "baby! what happened sweetheart?"

she came over, crouching down beside you. you smiled.

"im just very happy."

you answered. your girlfriend's gaze fell to that old diary, reading those words. she didn't say anything, she just held you tight against her body, kissing your forehead. "i'm so proud of you."

"i'm proud of myself too."

you finally learned that life doesn't end when your father walks out that door of your childhood.