#but the more I think about it the more it fits

[cordeliawhohung]

the prowl - single dad! Price x teacher! stripper! Reader (fem) taglist

[2] Room 7

You pity every poor woman whose husband has made a quick run to The Florists just for him to return home with glitter on his clothes instead of a bouquet.

It’s been proven time and time again that the only flowers men enjoy are the ones that dance. Soft stems swaying in the faux wind of the club, eye catching color hypnotizing them into staying for the show. They enjoy the layers. Those soft stigmas that protrude from the core. They enjoy toying with them; picking the petals off one by one until they get the answer to their question.

“Chrysanthemum! You’re up!” 

Rich ochre flashes behind you in the mirror as Chrys passes by to get to the stage, and she takes care to playfully slap the exposed flesh of your ass on her way. Grinning, you twist in your scanty attire, teeth framed perfectly with blood-red lipstick. 

“Keep doing that and I’ll have to follow you home,” you tease. 

Looking over her shoulder, Chrys chuckles. “Yeah, says you and everyone else in this joint. Don’t worry, love, I’ll warm them up for you.” 

She vanishes from the room just in time for someone to douse themselves in thick, expensive perfume as if it’s disinfectant. It’s thick and floral — which is fitting, considering the theme of the club — but it’s utterly unwelcomed. It invades your lungs, and you fight the urge to cough lest you ruin your perfectly applied lipstick. 

Fog grows on the full length mirror as you huff against it, fixing the corner of your false lashes before stepping back to take a look at yourself. Having worked as an exotic dancer for some time now, there is very little you’re self conscious about. Red, yellow, and periwinkle lingerie press your tits together and compliment your ass to turn you into the perfect sex toy — beautiful petals to be gawked at by the men surrounding the stage you’re about to dance on. Caked on makeup coats your features so thickly your own face can hardly shine through, and the synthetic curls of icy blue hair down your back render you unrecognizable.

Right now, you are not Miss. Lolly. You are not the darling primary school teacher in a pretty dress, lecturing students about dinosaurs and maths. You are something else — someone else.

“Why don’t you just date him? You guys are already shagging in the back anyway.” 

“Are you trying to get me fired? Keep your fucking voice low.” 

There’s no need to look behind you in order to see who’s talking; you’re more than well aware of Daisy’s… situation. A secret lover with cash to burn and emotions to spew. Borderline prostitution isn’t exactly highly regarded in this industry. It could get the club in severe legal trouble if it was found out one of the dancers gave away more than a quick grope, but all the flowers at The Florists know how to keep their pretty lips sealed shut. 

“The only reason we fuck is because he has good dick and gives amazing tips,” Daisy explains as she twirls her bleach blonde hair around her finger. 

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Dahlia chimes in as she applies fresh lip gloss. 

“Oh, aren’t you cheeky.” Daisy rolls her eyes. “And the reason I refuse to date him, despite how drop dead gorgeous he is, is because I think I would rather die than listen to his woe-is-me moaning, groaning, and complaining every waking moment of the day if I had to live with the man.” 

“No amount of looks can drown out self centeredness,” Dahlia concurs. 

Closing your eyes, you drown out their conversation in favor of letting your mind rest for a moment. It’s the only moment you’ve been able to capture for yourself all day. Nerves are still fried deep in your brain, and though the throbbing has subsided into a gentle hum, it’s still there. Pulsing with the music, squeezing the blood from your brain until you can hardly hold a coherent thought. Pain twinges throughout your feet, exacerbated by the too-thin straps of your heels. You’ve been standing for too long, teaching and smiling jovially at your primary students with marker stained fingers from joint art projects you keep pinned to the corkboard next to your desk. 

No, you don’t have time to think about Miss Lolly. 

You are not Miss Lolly.

“Saffron! Go time!” 

That’s you. 

Figures shrouded in shadows surround the stage when you saunter up. It’s impossible to make out the features of their faces, but you can see their eyes. There’s always a glint. A fervid shine that shows just how closely you’re being watched. An eerie bloodlust to smell the center of the pretty flower about to perform in front of them. 

Hips sway with illecebrous aura drawing out slack jawed expressions from patrons as ushers collect generous tips from them. A nymph come to life, they cheer and whistle at you like dogs — or rather, insects waiting to feast on the flesh of your fibers, pretty petals and all. Still, you dance in the synthetic breeze as you bend and twist for their viewing pleasure. Hips bucking. Sliding on your knees. Tits cupped together with your hands as you press your face against the floor of the stage, ass high in the air. 

Your head pounds when you sit back up, blue waves of hair spraying around you like mist. Prismatic lights have you bathing in a wonderland of sexual desires and dreams, and still all you can focus on is the pain. No matter how many sultry smiles you flash, or how long Saffron can hang on the poll in center stage, Miss Lolly is still crying over the marcid grip on her ankles. 

If it wasn’t for the rank scent of alcohol and cologne, you would have taken a deep breath in relief after you got off that stage. Instead, you keep up the act. This perfectly crafted persona. Expertly sewn second skin. The ushers quickly hand you the cash you earned for your show, and as you slink back into the dressing room, you find yourself praying you attracted enough attention to earn yourself a few requests for private dances. 

Back in the dressing room, you’re quickly counting the cash you’ve earned so far while the girls whistle at your earnings. It’s a good start to what’s bound to be a long, torturous night. Though it’s not as much as you’d like to see by the end of your shift, it’s enough to cover the house fees. 

You’re stowing away fresh, hard earned cash into your locker when there’s a sharp knock on the dressing room door. Once the girls give the all clear — meaning that they’re as decent as they can be in lingerie and not buttass naked — one of the coordinators opens the door. Tired eyes scan the dressing room, until they land on you.

“Saffron,” he says, waving a black ticket.

Gold floral embellishments glint in the dim lighting of the room, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head in recognition. You haven’t just earned the opportunity to give a few simple private dances — you’re wanted for a VIP session. A long, private dance filled with booze, special requests, and a high payout for you. 

You’re about to make half your rent tonight. 

It’s not entirely rare that someone seeks you out for a VIP session, so the hallway that leads to the room isn’t unfamiliar to you. Dark paint coupled with erotic photographs line the walls as your heels click against the marble flooring. Muffled music fades into the background the closer you are to approaching the room. You look down at the card in your hand: Room 7. 

Its swirling gold letters match the same font on the door in front of you. With a deep breath, you quickly fix the stray strands of your wig before your hand reaches for the knob on the door. 

Rich maroon walls close in on a comfortable room with a lone chandelier as the only source of light. As the door closes behind you, any hint of music dies behind it, and you’re left with nothing but silence and your own breathing as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Thick, powerful thighs spread wide in pressed dress pants on a large leather sofa. Their circumference is bigger than your head, you’re sure of it. A wide-palmed hand lazily caresses a glass of bourbon on the side table; your patron has been given special treatment with his own bottle of whiskey and bucket of ice, which means extra cash in your pocket. You trace his body, sizing him up with hooded eyes. His broad chest is hardly contained by his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt, allowing thick curls of dark hair to peek above the fabric. 

When you get to his face, you freeze. 

Neatly trimmed facial hair, alluring blue eyes — you’ve seen him before. He tilts his head at you, hips shuffling forward to lean further back in his seat, belt buckle catching the light just like it did earlier in the afternoon. He even gives you a quiet smile, one that doesn’t quite curl as much as it usually does, and you feel your stomach twist with bubbling bile. 

This is no patron; this is John Price.  Your student’s dad.

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[moonstruckme]

As promised: more roommate!james

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Thunder crashes. A branch from the tree outside smacks into your bedroom window, making you jump. You smile a little at your reaction, and a frisson goes up your spine, giddy. 

You’re kind of in a euphoric state tonight. 

The storm came in early, darkening the sky hours before its time and bringing torrents of rain down upon your home. Immediately, your windows had been opened, your candles lit, and you were curled up on your bed with a book in your hands. 

Downstairs, you can hear the familiar buzz of the TV playing one of James’ sports games. The whole apartment smells like the cookies you made earlier, which you have a small plate of next to you and which your roommate had moaned as he’d bitten into upon you offering some to him. Sweetheart, keep spoiling me like this and you’ll never get me to leave. 

Suffice to say, you’ve been having a fairly good evening. 

Your book is just starting to pick up when the TV quiets. Everything quiets. There’s a thud, followed by a hissed curse. 

You laugh a little. Pick up your phone. 

Alright down there? You text James. 

More thudding sounds. You think about picking your book back up, but decide to wait.

If I were bleeding out on the living room floor, do you think I’d be able to text you back?

A moment later: If you wanted to do a thorough job of seeing I was alright, you should have come and seen for yourself.

Then: And I heard you laughing.

You smile to yourself, a quiet chuckle escaping you. Sorry, can’t, you reply. Too cozy. 

You hear his heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, and you have only a few moments to brace yourself before he’s swinging open your door. 

Lately, your body has been doing this thing where he looks at you and it’s like the ground softens beneath you. Luckily, you’re already on a bed, so it’s not really possible this time. 

James shuts off the flashlight on his phone, looking around your room with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Woah. Are you having a seance in here?” 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way the candlelight plays prettily over his features. “You’re just jealous that I was prepared for the power to go out and you weren’t.” 

“It looks like you were hoping for it.” James grins. He starts to cross the room, and you’re like a sunflower to your light as you tilt to face him. 

He lays down next to you on your bed, on his stomach with his forearms propping him up. It’s a somewhat tight fit, but James doesn’t seem to mind the way his hip and shoulder are touching yours. His shampoo smell wraps around you like a hug. 

You pick up your tea as an excuse not to look at him, blowing softly before taking a sip. James watches you consideringly. 

“You really are thriving in here, aren’t you?” he teases softly. “Look at you, you’ve got your fuzzy socks on, your tea, your book. You’re in paradise.” 

You smile sheepishly as you set your tea down on the floor. “Sorry you couldn’t finish your game.” 

“Oh, it’s alright.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’d rather hang with you anyway.” 

You feel your brows furrow, a confusing mass of emotions knotting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you tell him softly.

You can feel James’ gaze warming the side of your face. His voice is just as quiet. “Why not?” 

You look over, and his eyes don’t flit away like a sane person’s would. They’re steady and warm as the flames around you. Instantly the room feels too small, him a little too close. 

James’ smile is almost tentative. “Look, I know you drew the short stick with this roommate agreement, but I plan to soak up as much roomie time as I can get. Sorry.” 

“I did not,” you murmur. 

“Didn’t what?” 

“You drew the short stick.” Your face burns. You know James too well to think he’d be making fun of you, but it’s difficult to imagine an alternative. He can’t really think you don’t like having him as a roommate after all the ways he’s been a friend to you, the times he’s stepped in to help, when you’ve only been a burden and a drag. “Not me.” 

His eyebrows twitch closer to each other, and his lips tilt bemusedly, as though they’re unsure of what else to do. The lenses of his glasses reflect the candlelight, brown eyes molten behind them. 

“I’m inclined to disagree,” he says. The air between you feels thick and sweet. Your heart seems to know something you don’t, quickening its rhythm in your chest. Then, because it’s James, he flicks up a brow. “Truce?” 

You laugh quietly, turning your face down towards your book. There are goosebumps going all down your arms. “Sure,” you say. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Glad that’s settled.” 

You don’t respond this time. You’re not sure you can. The words on your page blur by, unnoticed and unimportant.

Lightning cracks outside. You gasp and turn to see it, and James’ lips meet you there. 

You should have known he would be soft like this. You’ve kept yourself from thinking about it, but you could have guessed. The first gentle, warm press of his mouth is so lovely you get lost in it, but when it lasts for too long and he starts to draw back, you remember that you can move, too. 

He takes in a tiny inhale when you part your lips for him, his hand finding your waist and his body curving over yours. Your arm falls out from under you, and James follows you down. He tastes sweet and familiar, like home. 

You bring your hands up to his face, one resting tentatively on his cheek while the other toys with the idea of slipping its fingers into his hair. The sky rumbles outside. Your heart pitters. 

“It’s okay,” James mumbles. His voice buzzes against your lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart, please.” 

You grasp at the roots of his hair, palm settling more surely on his cheek, and James makes a sound low in his throat. He breaks the kiss to pull off his glasses. You take them from where he sets them on the bed, placing them more carefully on the floor where they’re not so likely to get crushed. His lips curve over yours. You think that if you were to detour to either side, you might find a dimple in his cheek. 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Oh, it’s James again now, is it?” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “What is it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s a nonsensical question, but in fairness you think all the blood that’s supposed to be in your brain has gone to your lips, and James seems to get what you mean anyway. 

He chuckles quietly. “I am, yeah.” He makes a sound that’s almost like a sigh, hand climbing up your back until it’s trapped between your shoulders and your bed. “I don’t ever tell you how lovely you are, but I’ve…I’m sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I think so.” 

“That’s okay.” James kisses your chin, the curve of your jaw. 

“You’re lovely, too,” you tell him somewhat desperately. His lashes tickle your cheek. Your fingers are still burrowed in the hair at his nape. “I never tell you. I like when you’re here.” 

You feel his smile bloom against your skin. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he says, voice light with teasing. 

You frown, wishing he would take you seriously. “I do. I really like you.” 

“I think I like you more.” 

You scoff. He nips at your jaw, surprising a laugh out of you. “You can’t always win,” you say. 

James makes a happy humming sound. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

[notherpuppet]

I LOVE READING YOUR NANNY AU!! The writing and art is amazing!!

Though how you get the dialogue so perfect!?!? I'm trying to do a comic series but I can't do the writing right.

May you please share some tips?

I want to actually be helpful with this, because I looove writing dialogue. It’s my favorite part of the storytelling process. I’ve written works with and without internal dialogue and I like both. It just depends on how much I want the reader to know. Anyway, here’s some advice?

1. Study techniques from media you like

I study scenes from favorite films/tv shows. And there are many YouTube channels that are great resources for writing, but I’m most partial to “Studio Binder”.

This is a great video on dialogue.

Because I write for comics most of the time—rather than prose—I find advice for tv and film to be more helpful because it incorporates the techniques in a visual storytelling medium. But I’d recommend studying technique for the storytelling medium you’re partial to as well. I have several books on comic book storytelling and have studied comics and manga the most in my life haha (cuz I’m a giant fucking nerd).

2. Workshop dialogue to fit the character and scene

Dialogue can change a lot from my first concept—where I want to convey the necessary information—into making it sound “in character”. So I study the writing of the show of course to pick up on the characters’ quirks and unique ways of speaking.

Example:

Carmilla Carmine is bilingual with Spanish/English and it seems that as a character, Spanish was her first language. So some traits she may have are:

1. To confirm her ideas ending with a “no?” Instead of saying “right?”

2. Slipping into Spanish when she’s ‘thinking out loud’.

Then I’ll read aloud a scene to see if it sounds right. Often, this is when I’ll notice if the dialogue seems repetitive or awkward.

3. Touch grass, go laugh, have fun

Also, I’m sure my very chaotic but-hilarious-family members and friends help me with writing dialogue so make sure you take the time to hang out with people lol!

It’s true what they say about drawing inspiration from real life 👥🌎

Hope that’s helpful 🥰

[lymtw]

Thinking of Toji coming home to you after a rough day at work.

On a normal day he would call out to you the second he steps through the front door, but today he's not in the mood to be loud. He silently walks through the living room, into the hallway where he directs himself towards the bedroom, where he knows you are. He's dirty and sweaty and there's somebody's blood drying on the fabric of his shirt. Luckily, it's just a small area. You won't spot it on your own, and Toji won't be showing it off to you.

The door creaks open and you're there, lying on your stomach, in bed. You're distracted by your phone, too zoned into your own serene little world to notice that Toji was home. He can smell your shampoo and the lotion you used, in the air, the smell getting stronger as he makes his way towards the bed. His stealthiness is a threat, never to you, but the fact that you didn't turn around once really had him thinking about your safety.

He didn't waste another second just looming over you. Slowly, he crawled onto the bed and before you managed to shriek or say something about how he scared the crap out of you, he laid right on top of you, crushing you and revoking your ability to make any sounds but groans under his weight.

"Toji?" you call, once you get accustomed to the pressure your bear of a man added onto you. He doesn't respond, and instead buries his face into the crook of your neck, getting a deeper whiff of the scent that emanated off of you. "Toji?" You try again, turning your head slightly.

"You smell pretty, doll. Could smell you the second I walked in the room," he hums, inhaling your clean scent.

"Yeah, I just showered. Don't you wanna go get cleaned up, too? Dinner's ready."

"Of course I do. Thanks, doll. Just let me have you like this for a sec."

You had no argument for that. You laid there, flat on the bed beneath him, and allowed him all the time necessary to relax. He was quiet, and his hold on you was a little tighter than usual. That wasn't what brought you to your conclusion, but it was clear that he wasn't his usual self.

Something about being able to wrap himself around your entire body was comforting to Toji. It made him feel like he was keeping you safe, like he was the soft blanket you cover yourself with at night, rather than a man who comes home with blood stains on his clothes.

You were the one thing he was positive he would come home to, and that was enough. You were more than enough for him. He always felt there was no way to pay back for every day you spent accepting him as he is. All those nights when you let him hold you, even after he made you cry. Those mornings when you woke up with a heavy heart, alone, only to find out through a text message that he had to leave for work early.

Undeserving was a small word to Toji. It was you still finding it in yourself to give him the warmest of welcomes every day—a greeting normally dedicated to heroes, that made him obsess over finding a word that was more fitting for him.

He loves you and he's serious about it. He knows the infinite range of his love for you and regardless of how small his heart seems compared to yours, you decorate every inch of space within it, and when it reaches its maximum capacity, you go to his head. The space is littered with images of you, like posters on a wall. The space is so crowded that some of them are hanging on to the walls of his mind for dear life. There are images of your guilty smile after you knock a glass of water over and it shatters, another of the look on your face as you try not to laugh when he tries on a shirt that clearly isn't his size, and memories of the times when you would pamper him when he wasn't feeling well, insisting on still sleeping next to him, incase he needs something in the middle of the night.

It all adds up to this clingy behavior he reserves for you. When the day treats him like trash being kicked around by everyone on a sidewalk, he comes home to appreciate the one who embraces him and unconditionally loves him.

He knows his weight on your back must be unbearable and he definitely doesn't smell as good as you, either, but he can't move. Not yet.

"I could stay like this forever, doll. Would you let me?" He smiles for the first time in a bit when he sees your shoulders shaking, paired with the sweet sound of your laugh.

"Of course, baby. I'd willingly stay like this for you."

And he groans. It's like a form of cuteness aggression, but it derives from the fact that he can't believe that you're with him, and that you're so saintly, and he can't for the life of him stop thinking of you. He kisses your jaw and strongly resists the urge to bite your cheek and squeeze you until you can't breathe at all.

His breathing quickens a little when he thinks of how detrimental it would be to his life if you walked away for good, one day. Things are so good, but he can't help but think that the next time they aren't, it'll be an enormous hit to everything he has with you. Maybe you're waiting for the next argument to drop everything. Maybe you secretly can't stand him. Maybe you don't need him. Maybe-

His overthinking is cut off by a low growl, followed by a nervous giggle that is muffled by the pillow you buried your face in.

"Sorry," you lift your head to say, fighting the laughter bubbling in your throat.

"You're hungry." There's a barely there crease between his brows. It's late and your stomach is growling. He doesn't want to think about you skipping meals.

"I wanted to wait for you," you chirp, turning your head the slightest bit to give him a beaming smile.

"Baby." The second he sees the corners of your lips begin to straighten out, he stifles the scolding he was about to hit you with. "I can't even be mad at you. Have you eaten anything at all today?"

Your silence was all he needed to understand that you were running on fumes. He sighs, mentally cursing you for being so careless with yourself for his sake.

"I'm gonna shower, and you're gonna meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. Will you survive that long? I don't know, but you have to." He kisses your temple a couple times, rolling off of you and directing himself to his clothing drawers.

Your lungs expand and you feel so much lighter without his weight on you. You flip over onto your back, stretching for a moment before you turn over to watch Toji rummage through his drawers. His sixth sense kicks in and he can feel your gaze on the back of his head.

"I love you, doll." He stands still, waiting seconds too long for your response. He turns his head to the side, facing the blank wall of the room. His ear is turned in your direction as to not miss the sound of your voice.

You sit up, prepared to say it back with every fiber of your being. You can see his fingers tapping against the top of the dresser. You don't mean to bring unease to his mind, your intention is to do the exact opposite. "I love you so, sooo much, Toji."

He lets the clothes he picked out plop onto the dresser, and he turns around to head back to you. He holds your gaze until he reaches you. It's the first good look you've gotten at him since he got home. You can't help but smile at the familiar sight of those green eyes and that pretty nose, and that scarred lip. He never failed to make you swoon, even during times when there was a lack of words.

His hands cupped your jaw before he leaned down to kiss you. The duration of his kisses weren't thought out, let alone planned. What was supposed to be ten minutes until you met him in the kitchen, turned into double the amount of time, because he wouldn't let you go. You were just as guilty for the delay, feeling so much ease and comfort with the words he imbedded into his kisses. Eventually you started telling him to go, between kisses and laughter, reminding him that you would be there when he got out. He ignored you until your stomach growled again.

"Fine," he grumbled, placing one more peck on your lips before he left you alone.

[kooksbunnnn]

HOW WAS YOUR DAY: NAMJOON

Summary: Just namjoon fingering you in his studio as he asks you about your day.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: idol!Namjoon×reader. fingering, squirting, namjoons lap (it's a warning, yes), kissing.

Authors note: I want him. SO BAD. ___________________________________________

"I was uh..I was walking by her when I c-came and she g-gave me such looks-" you try talking as Namjoon’s fingers abuse your clit. He had you sat on his lap, your hands around his shoulders, your hips sat on his left thigh as he spread your legs slightly to fit his hand under your skirt.

"She did?" He asks, you nod whining. His hands work slowly as if he had all the time in the world.

You had visited him at his studio because you missed him. It had been days since you saw him, so you came bearing ciffe and food. But as soon as you entered the building, the new recruit in his managing team gave you a dirty look.

You were his girlfriend for fucks sake!

"I wanted to smack her so bad, ohhh my-" you trail as he dips his fingers inside you to gather some wetness getting back to your clit again, rubbing it in faster more precise circles.

You gasp, squirming as he lazily sucks a hickey on your neck while making you see stars.

"So good joon fuck I love your fingers." He hums against your skin, squeezing your waist with his other hand resting against your back while his fingers tortured you back and forth from your climax.

"Did you eat something, love?" You nod, feeling the knot inside you, forming slowly and very gradually. His hands slow down his ministrations, and you whine as you feel your legs shake out of sensitivity.

"Joon-" you breathe out as he smiles proudly at the purple mark he gave you on your neck, marking you as his.

"What did you eat?" He asks with hooded eyes admiring the mark he left while you try to make phrases inside your dizzied head.

"I- some- ah fuck- I had a gimbap with my colleagues, mm-" You words stop with a hitch in your breath as he slides two fingers slowly inside you. You try holding his wrists, but then your hands end up clutching your hair because you feel so good.

"Colleagues, huh?" He says, curling the tip of his fingers slightly to tickle that spot.

"Oh shit right there!" Your head falls back as you feel that spot being rubbed in a way that makes your eyes roll.

"Was Mark there too?" You just gasp as his fingers rub your insides and his thumb rubs your clit from the outside. Your brain short circuiting at the amount of pleasure you're receiving.

You squirm in his hold as his other hand makes you stay still. His tongue licking around your earlobe while his fingers abused the little spongy spot inside you.

"I asked you something, love." his voice was so gentle yet firm, making your mind search for the question he asked. Your brain was too dizzy to think with his thick thighs underneath you along with the hard on he had, so you just moaned, clenching hard around his fingers.

He pulls his hand out and smacks your swollen cunt, shoving his fingers once again. Asking you again, silently.

Was he?

"I dont know, I dont know-" you repeat with a high-pitched whine, your voice echoing and bouncing against his studio walls. You're glad the studio was soundproof, or people might think Namjoon was killing someone in there.

He chuckles mocking your thoughtless face, "so dumb, my baby, look at you, my baby can't answer coz I fuck her open with my fingers huh? My perfect little cocksleeve." You clench hard as he makes you feel smaller by each syllable. You squirm in his hold, making him bite your skin underneath your ear.

"I'm close so close oh-so cl-so-" he chuckles as you babble dumbly, breathing heavily against your ears that it makes your mind wander to how hard he must be right now.

The moment your mind travels to his dick you miss it inside you, you want to feel him inside you, the stretch of his fingers making you miss the way his cock split you open 3 days ago.

3 fucking days.

You think you might die if you dont get fucked by him today.

Your eyes water as you feel your orgasm coming closer, his hard on pressing against the back of your thigh, making your mind swirl with dirty thoughts.

Your fucked out brain getting reminded of the way he pounds you against the mattress, the way he fucked you in his balcony 35 floor above the city. How he fucked you open with his cock in front of his mirror, fingers inside your mouth as he pumped himself dry inside you filling with his warm cum.

His warm cum. Oh god.

"Jesus, you're crushing my hand so hard." He says through his teeth as he feels your thighs tightening around his hand, your face buried in his chest.

When he fastens his pace, he pulls your legs apart by his other free hand, making you spread open for him on his lap. Your other leg now in his hold from under your knee, resting on the table in front of him. You were exposed to the studio walls, making you feel vulnerable suddenly.

He keeps you open to the cold air in the room while his warm fingers plunged deep inside you. Squelching so loudly you wanna hide of embaressment but you're so close you think you'll go crazy.

"Oh god--" you breathe out as he picks up his pace, his stimulation on your clit and the spot inside you constant. You legs shake in his hold and your eyes start tearing up.

"Oh make me cum make me cum please? Please? Oh god please!" You mumble mindlessly, pleading him, requesting him, begging him to make you cum as he coos, his fingers never faltering. Your fingers clutch his hair desperately as you look into his eyes, begging, your eyebrows furrowed as he smiles almost mocking you.

Evil.

"Cum baby, cum whenever you want, make a mess, go on" he says, his breathe heaving in your ears. It's as if he had turned a switch inside you that made you arch your back in his hold. Your cunt squeezing around his fingers as your cum sprays all over his lap. He groans as he feels your walls pushing his fingers out, making him fill you up with his fingers again, making them squelch loudly.

He holds your hips chuckling darkly as you squirt all over his joggers, his fingers fucking you through your high but he needed more so he pulls his fingers out to rub your clit sloppily and you sob.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you feel your teeth clash as you breathe hard against him. Your body vibrates and thrashing in his hold as he growls against your lips.

"Yeah, good girl," he groans against your lips as you gasp, twitching.

His tongue plunges inside your mouth, and you squeal against his lips, your lips not even moving as you just gasp. Your eyes roll back, your hand clutching onto his neck desperately as his fingers rub your folds, making sure you spill everything you have inside you.

"Thats it thats it, my perfect girl." He coos against your lips, you breathe heavily, tears flowing down your eyes.

You whine, holding his wrists out of oversensitivity, smiling, feeling light-headed.

He smiles looking at you and teases your clit, flicking his index against it. Your body twitches as he does so, just to laugh at how pathetically your body squirms in sensitivity.

"Tch-tch-tch" he mocks you, grinning as your head falls back, his hand cupping your pussy making your eyes roll back. He squeezes, massaging your folds to calm you down.

"You did so good, my baby." He kisses your forehead, caressing your hair. "You okay?" He asks, his voice calming and deep. You nod tiredly.

"Good," he kisses your cheek, "because you're gonna do that again, but on my dick this time," he says, kissing your cheek again, tenderly.

Well, fuck.

___________________________________________

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Tim and Danny are half-siblings

Champagne glasses shine in the light like jewelry on people’s wrists and necks and cuff links and literally anywhere else someone can fit. Honestly it’s giving Tim a headache.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only one suffering at this pointless gala. Not that the fundraiser for homeless kids in the city is pointless, but did they really need to throw an expensive party?

“You okay, Timmy? You’ve sighed like four times now,” Dick comments on the comms they all have in.

“Yea, I just-“

“Mr. Drake! How nice it is to see you again. Have you met my son, Daniel?”

Tim turns to find Vlad Masters, CEO of dalvco, dragging along a teen who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here. The boy, Daniel, glares at the hand holding him by the arm.

“It’s Danny,” like it was the hundredth time saying the phrase.

Masters pretends he doesn’t hear it.

Tim is already working on how to get out of this conversation. He’s dealt with too many parents pushing their kids in his direction tonight.

He throws on a smile anyway and holds out his hand for a shake.

“Tim Drake-Wayne, nice to meet you, Danny.”

Danny hesitates for a second and it results in a tightening of the jaw and subtle glance to where he was glaring before as if Masters just tightened his grip on the teen. Tim says nothing about the awkward pause.

Danny shifts his weight to subtly step on Masters polish shoes, drawing the attention of the man and allowing Danny to slip a piece of paper into the handshake. Tim raises his eyebrows for Danny to see before falling back to pleasant neutral. He tucks the note into his pocket casually.

“Same.”

Tim’s smile becomes a bit more genuine at the teenage behavior.

“Now then,” Masters jumps in after getting himself situated, “I had been meaning to make an appointment with you, but every time I call you are always busy.”

Tim knew this was coming.

“I’m not receiving any calls about the Drake name, Mr. Masters, as you are well aware.”

“You would think that as a young businessman you would look to someone with more experience.”

He really wasn’t being subtle at all, was he?

“I wonder how Bruce would react if he heard you,” Tim warns even though he knows full well Bruce can actively hear the conversation. He turns to Danny while Masters is recovering from that reminder. “Our newest adoptee is about your age. Duke Thomas. He should be around here somewhere if you want to exchange numbers.”

Danny opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off. Masters’ hand goes from clenching the teen’s arm to squeezing his shoulder in what appears to be a warning.

“Oh no, I forgot to mention, Daniel’s entire family and his friends, along with an unfortunate teacher, all died recently in a terrible accident. I was given custody of the poor boy, of course. He’s like the son I never had. Anyway, we wouldn’t want to upset him by replacing what he recently lost, would we? He needs his space to grieve.”

The condescension with the insensitive wording left Tim speechless for a moment, and with the silence over the comms so were everyone else listening.

Tim finds Danny glaring down at the floor with clenched fists. The teen rips himself away from Masters, and when the man tries to chastise him, he turns and stares the man down with such a hateful expression that Tim had to keep from tensing. He had seen too many of those looks in the field, usually on the faces of those he was fighting.

Whatever silent conversation that was happening between the two was ended with Danny grinding his teeth and running away to what looks to be the direction of the restrooms.

“So sorry about him,” Masters apologizes like it wasn’t his fault Danny almost committed a crime. “He’s a bit sensitive right now. I honestly had hoped he would feel better after getting out of the house.”

Masters sighs almost theatrically, “Enough of that. Here is my business card for when you finally decide to-“

Tim walked away before he could finish.

It’s in the bathroom that he finds Duke talking to the door of one of the stalls. They make eye contact but all that’s there is concern and confusion. Danny wasn’t talking.

“Hey, Danny, right? How you holding up? That was kinda rough, huh?” Tim tries.

Silence. Then, “Did you read my note?” He hears come from the other side, small and thin.

Right. The note. Tim pulls it out of his pocket quickly.

“Yea, yea, I read your note,” he lies as he’s quietly unfolding said note. “It’s just, you know… oh.”

Duke raises his brows in surprise at Tim’s sudden change in tone and expression. Tim couldn’t even guess what his face was doing but it was the least of his worries. The younger leans in to read over his shoulder.

“Oh,” agrees Duke.

I think we are half-siblings. Please help me take him down. I’ll send DNA if you need it. It can’t wait.

Oh indeed.

“What does ‘oh’ mean?” Dick suddenly asks over the comms which Tim forgot were still in. “Guys, seriously, do I need to come in there?”

“No,” Tim answers quickly only to realize that Danny can hear it too. “Duke, can you cover the door?”

“Sure, man.”

Tim takes a deep breath and shoves his emotions way down. Danny was already upset and obviously trusting Tim with this, he needed to be a solid support that his little brother this teen can lean on.

It could also be a trap.

“Danny, can you come out please?”

There was hesitation in the air, but he finally hears the click of the lock and the door swings open. The poor kid was holding himself tightly and shrinking into himself, afraid of Tim’s reaction.

“Danny,” he says gently. Danny still flinches. “Why do you think we’re half-siblings?”

He lets the teen chew on his lip for a few moments before he has to repeat himself.

“I was going through my parent’s stuff,” Danny rushes out, “like paperwork and stuff… I found a box pushed way back with letters. At first I thought they were my parents’ old love letters, but it wasn’t my dad’s handwriting even though he signed it ‘Jack’. There was also a picture of my mom and your dad together on an excavation site. The date on the back made a lot of sense because when you add nine months, that’s my birthday.”

Danny looked at Tim with such a lost expression that Tim felt a bit lost himself.

“I never would have thought my dad would cheat on my mom. He was too afraid of what would happen if he did, I thought,” Tim says, leaning into it a little.

“Right? I never thought my mom would, my parents were infatuated with each other, but maybe they were having problems at the time? I don’t know, I didn’t actually read the letters.”

“Can I look through them?”

Danny blinks and then rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

“I mean, yea, but they’re back at my parent’s house in Illinois. I would have to find a way to send them to you, but Vlad is kinda watching my every move at the moment so-“

“What if I went alone?” Tim jumps in the suggest. “I have enough money to go on a mini vacation. I could sneak in when everyone’s asleep and find them.”

“Honestly I doubt it’s locked. You could just walk right in. If you don’t mind the wasted gas, then okay, sure. Need the address?”

Tim respects the confidence and trust.

“Nah, I got it, but I will still need that DNA sample.”

Danny swallows nervously.

“Right, um, what- what do you need? I don’t know how this works.”

Tim nods and a smile to calm the teen down. His nervousness was definitely noted though.

“That’s okay. I’ve done this plenty of times with women who claim their child is Bruce’s. Always ends the same.”

Funnily enough, Danny relaxes at the reassurance lined with warning.

“Oh, that’s good. Okay. Just tell me what you need. Can we do it right now?”

Danny glances at the door and Tim understands the rush.

“Sure, come here,” Tim waves them over to the little sitting area. He pulls out his pocket knife with a mischievous smirk. “Don’t tattle on me.”

Danny stares with a wide smile and even wider eyes. It’s kinda funny how excited he is when most people would wonder why Tim was pulling a knife on them. Maybe they were brothers.

“Whoa, how’d you sneak that in? There was a whole metal detector and everything,” Danny fans.

“A true magician never reveals his tricks,” he smiles at Danny’s pout.

“Lame. You probably paid off one of the waiters or something.”

He actually planted it in one of the plants inside before the event even started, but the kid was close.

“Or something.”

“I always wanted one,” Danny murmurs wistfully.

“I’ll get you one,” is out of his mouth before he knew it.

“What?” Danny jerks up in surprise. “No, you don’t have to do that. I wasn’t expecting-“

“I know,” Tim cuts off the guilty ramblings. “I want to. You should have one.”

“Aw, little Timmy is bonding with his brother,” Dick coos over the comms.

“We don’t know that for sure, Richard,” Damian reminds.

“He sounds pretty legit to me,” Duke adds.

Tim ignores them for the most part.

“Lift up your leg. I’m just gonna give you a small cut on your calf to get some blood. It’ll be quick, okay?”

“Okay.”

Danny doesn’t make a sound when metal meets skin and slices through. He presses down on the wound with his handkerchief to collect the blood. Of course that wasn’t enough for him to cover all the bases, so he asked Danny to spit in his empty champagne glass, which the teen complied with zero complaints.

“Is that it?” Danny asks curiously.

“Yep! I’ll run them down to the lab ASAP and compare against mine. I’ll let you know about the results when they come back. Let me get your phone number.”

Tim was quietly getting more hopeful with how cooperative Danny had been. He hands over his phone easily with a chirped “sure!” to also let Tim put in his number.

“We have to be careful though. Vlad’s been over my shoulder since I moved in. If he finds anything he doesn’t like, it won’t be good,” Danny laughed it off like that was normal.

Tim had suspected a heavy hand with the shoulder squeezing earlier bordering on abuse with what and how he said what he did, but it was looking worse than his original hypothesis.

“Danny,” he says softly, like when he talks to a victim as Robin. Which might ring true here and Tim was already getting angry about the whole thing, if the abuse is real, he might fly off the handle and Kon will be forced to reign him back in. “Do you want to tell me about Masters?”

Danny immediately goes on the defensive, looking around the empty room and shoulders going stiff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny denies.

Tim isn’t surprised, but he also isn’t happy.

“I have more power than you might think, Danny. I can help you.”

Danny shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t- You- It’s complicated.”

“Then explain it to me. Please trust me, Danny. I can help get you out-“

“This isn’t about me!”

His words ring off the tile, making it louder than intended. Danny flinches at the sound and looks to the door with anxious eyes.

“Hey,” Tim whispers. It still makes the teen jump. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I know that,” Danny snaps, but Tim knows not to take it personally.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily. That seems to make Danny relax a bit. “What did you mean it’s not about you? It’s your DNA we’re checking against mine.”

Danny bites his lip in anxious contemplation. Looks like Tim is gonna have to pull this one out like teeth.

“Is there someone else involved?”

Danny hesitates but finally nods.

“You can trust me, Danny. I won’t do anything that isn’t in your best interest. I promise.”

Danny’s lip is bleeding but neither of them say a word. He looks desperate and alone. It makes Tim’s skin crawl.

“Promise you won’t do anything yet?”

Tim nearly sighs with relief.

“Yes. I promise.”

“So you won’t tell? You can’t tell,” Danny insists.

Technically it wouldn’t be telling if they can hear him in real time.

“I promise I won’t do or say anything. Whatever is said here is confidential, alright? I won’t tell anyone,” Tim assures.

It seems to do the trick because Danny creeps closer to whisper after checking the door one more time.

“Vlad is my godfather. Uncle Vlad, right? He has always wanted a son and he was obsessed with my mom, so when he met me he, I don’t know, flipped a switch or something and his attention was on me all the time if it wasn’t on Mom. He wanted me to renounce my dad and go live with him. Obviously that didn’t happen so he tried the next best thing apparently and decided he was gonna make a clone of me.”

Danny pauses and Tim needs it to seriously contemplate what even is his life.

“It didn’t work out the way he planned and the only clone to make it was a girl, my cousin, Danielle. Yes, he named her after me. Some things happened, we worked it out, so Danielle was on my side and hates Vlad, right? Well, when everything happened,” he swallows thickly, “Danielle came back from traveling to be with me. Vlad took that opportunity to confine her to the basement. He never wanted a daughter. He never cared about her. So now he’s using her as leverage against me. If I try anything or don’t do what he says, she’s the one that gets punished. If I try to run away, he’d kill her. I know he would. And before I knew about you, she was the only-“

“The only family you had left,” Tim finishes.

Danny nods with a pleading expression.

Tim can understand the primal urge to be close to a blood relative that actually cares.

“Now you have me,” Tim offers with a small smile.

Danny makes the effort to try and smile back, though it falls flat quickly.

“We don’t know that yet. I could be wrong. I’m sorry I threw all this at you, I just- When I found those letters and thought that… I just-“

“I get it.” And he did. He really, really did. “You know, even if we aren’t related I still want to-“

Danny’s phone rings, making the teen jump. He glances at the name calling with a scowl. He doesn’t answer.

“Vlad’s looking for me. I gotta go, but, um, thanks… for taking my word for it and being so nice about it. I promise I’m not trying to pull something for your money. I didn’t even know you were rich until I looked you up-“

“Danny.” Tim was coming to the conclusion that Danny tend to ramble when nervous. He stands and guides the kid toward the door. “It’s okay. I know you’re not lying. I’ll text you the results, okay? We’ll figure this out. Just be patient for me, alright?”

Danny nods and fidgets with his suit coat. He doesn’t make a move to leave yet, instead he turns to face Tim.

“Um, you can say no. I just- is it okay if I hug you?”

Tim blanks for a solid few seconds. It’s only Dick’s cooing and Damian’s sassing that snaps him back to reality. This was real, he has to remind himself. He might have a half-brother and he wants a hug. Tim can do hugs. He can crush a hug, totally.

“Uh, yea. Hugs are okay.”

Danny must not care about his awkward response because he suddenly has thin arms around his waist and soft hair tickling his cheek. They were at the ideal height difference where Danny can rest his head on Tim’s shoulder comfortably. Tim wraps his arms around the teen’s shoulders and just felt.

If Danny really is his half-brother, then fate really is cruel to deprive him of this kinship all throughout his childhood.

Danny pulls away first, face to the ground, and ears red.

With a wavering voice he stumbles out an apology and a thanks before bolting out the door, narrowly running into Dick. He’s disappeared into the crowd in a blink.

“You okay, Tim?” Dick asks.

Tim blinks, “I have a brother.”

“A possible half-brother, but yea, still exciting.”

“The results will come back a match,” Tim says confidently.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Drake. This Daniel sounds pathetic, he would only hold you back.”

“Damian, there is nothing pathetic about trying to protect someone. Danny is thinking about his little cousin,” Dick argues. Damian doesn’t dispute.

“My parents never loved each other,” Tim confesses. “It was a marriage of mutual convenience. It is very possible that my dad found a lover outside their marriage.”

It was weird talking about his parents like that, but it was true. His mother told him once that marriage isn’t about love, it’s a contract between two people with mutual interests and values. His father was always somewhat withdrawn.

Danny had the black hair, the blue eyes, and even the skin tone to match his own. His jaw line was wider and eyebrows thicker, but honestly, they could be brothers if they stood side by side. Half-siblings isn’t even a stretch.

“He’s my brother. I know it.”

Tim spots a flash of silver hair from the crowd and narrows his eyes into slits.

“My brother who is being abused by his caretaker apparently,” he says in a voice that sounds like he’s planning a murder.

Huh. Now that’s a thought.

He could just kill Masters, that would certainly get him out of the way.

“I don’t like that look,” Dick says cautiously, leaning to bring Tim attention to him and not Masters hunting down his little brother. “We’ll help him, Tim. Don’t go overboard here. You can’t afford to get too emotionally involved.”

Tim sends a glare his way.

“Why don’t I prove what I already know, then?”

“Tim-“

He already had the champagne glass in his jacket pocket and his handkerchief in his breast pocket. He shoves past Dick and heads toward the front doors. No one stops him as he leaves the party early and hails a cab back to the manor to start his analysis.

It’s a half a day later when Tim sends a text with an emoji of two males holding hands and a green check mark. It’s an hour later that he gets a shooting star in response. He smiles widely and then gets to work on planning Masters’ demise and his brother’s and ‘cousin’s’ escape into his custody.

[transform4u]

I was raised in a Christian setting, but I was always so proud growing up about being openly gay and flamboyant. Now that I’m older, all my old school friends are getting married and starting families. I used to think those straight guys were so boring and mundane for wanting to settle down. Now I feel so bored with my long time boyfriend. I keep having this weird urge that I need to breed and spread my seed. The more my values change, I feel my breeder kink growing stronger. Can you help me understand what’s happening to me?

It's late at night, and the verse from Corinthians weighs heavily on your thoughts. "Act like men, be strong." Those words, ingrained since childhood through Sunday sermons and Bible studies, echo in your mind like a mantra. You've never truly understood them, I mean it was all just boring, conservative values your parents tried to install in you. But you were nothing like that were you. You wanted to be out and proud and attend every Pride parade you could, putting on rainbow beads and tight clothes----but that's not what those words mean "Act like men, be strong."

Yet, as you mull over these words, a realization dawns on you. Your concept of what it means to "act like men" has been shaped not only by your Christian upbringing but also by societal norms and expectations. Society has painted a picture of masculinity that emphasizes toughness, stoicism, and dominance. It's a definition that leaves little room for vulnerability, sensitivity, or exploration of emotions.

The urge to conform, to live up to these ideals, is strong. It's ingrained in your psyche, reinforced over years of conditioning.

As you reflect, your mind drifts to your boyfriend, the person you care deeply for but who seems to fall short of the masculine ideal you've been taught. You try to reconcile his kindness, his gentleness, with this notion of strength and manliness. Your lip quivers slightly as conflicting emotions surge within you.

A smirk begins to form on your face—a smirk tinged with bitterness and a hint of rebellion. You think about how predictable your relationship has become, how safe and comfortable yet lacking in passion and excitement. The thought of being with another man, someone more assertive, more daring, stirs something inside you—anger mixed with desire, disgust intertwined with curiosity.

You can't help but feel a growing anger and hatred towards your boyfriend. He's not strong enough, not manly enough to satisfy you. You start to question why you ever fell for him in the first place. His kindness seems like weakness now, his gentleness a sign of femininity.

As your self-inflicted homophobia begins to creep into your soul, you find yourself disgusted by the idea of having sex with another man. It goes against everything you believe in; it goes against the Bible. Your mind fills with rage, a rage that will fuel your changes. You know what needs to be done – break up with him and find someone who can truly make you feel alive again.

Your smile morphs into a cocky grin, reflecting a defiance against the norms that have shaped your understanding of masculinity. The rigid expectations seem suffocating now, and you wonder if you've been playing a role, conforming to a stereotype that doesn't fit who you truly are.

It starts as a simple sigh, a release of tension and uncertainty that has gripped you for so long. The weight of expectations—societal, religious, personal—pressing down like a heavy mantle. You yearn to break free from these constraints, to redefine yourself beyond the confines of what others expect you to be.

As you exhale, the sigh deepens into a grunt, a primal sound of frustration mingled with determination. You feel it in your gut—a sudden surge of energy, a tingling sensation that spreads through your entire body. It's as if something dormant within you is awakening, stirring to life with newfound vigor.

You let out a deep, loud, and obnoxious "buuuuurrrrrrrrrp" that echoes through the room. The sound reverberates in your ears as you feel it pulsate throughout your muscles, filling you with energy. You stand up straighter, chest puffed out proudly as if to say "I am here."

Your eyes narrow into a fierce glare as you think about all the changes that need to be made. No more will you settle for mediocrity or complacency; it's time to take control of your life and become the person you were always meant to be – strong, confident, and unapologetically masculine.

Your gaze lowers instinctively to your stomach, where once a softness resided, now replaced by a transformation unfolding before your eyes. The smooth contours give way to something altogether different—a ripple, a shift beneath the surface. Thick, cobblestone abs begin to form, each muscle defined with startling clarity. You watch in disbelief as your body undergoes a metamorphosis, sculpting itself into a form that feels both alien and strangely exhilarating.

A deep, booming laugh escapes your lips, echoing in the room. Your Adam's apple thickens perceptibly, your voice dropping several octaves in pitch. It resonates within you, a newfound resonance that reverberates with power and confidence.

Your biceps swell, veins popping with every flex, pulsating with strength. Your chest rises, pecs transforming into hefty mounds of muscle and flesh that demand attention. You can't help but marvel at the physical changes taking place, each movement involuntary yet empowering. "Holy shit," you say to yourself, feeling your muscles grow underneath your skin. "This is fucking awesome!" You flex your bicep and watch it bulge outwards like a rock-hard mountain peak. A grin spreads across your face as you imagine what else might be possible now that these changes have begun.

Involuntarily, you flex, feeling the newfound strength coursing through your veins. A laugh, almost primal in its intensity, escapes your lips—a laugh that breaks through the constraints of expectation and conformity. It's a laugh of liberation, of embracing what it means to be yourself, unapologetically.

As you stand there, caught in the throes of transformation, you're acutely aware of the societal expectations weighing upon you. Masculinity, as defined by the world around you, seems to demand a certain mold—one you're unwittingly beginning to fit into. The laughter that bubbles up from within feels almost intoxicating, a euphoric rush of newfound strength and vigor.

But with each laugh, something shifts. It's subtle at first, like a distant echo fading into the background. Your thoughts, once sharp and nuanced, begin to blur. The intricate web of ideas and knowledge that defined your intellectual prowess starts to dissipate.

You chuckle, the sound now more boisterous, more carefree. The complexity of language and the depth of thought seem distant, replaced by a simplicity that borders on naivety. Words become harder to grasp, sentences more challenging to string together. The transformation is not just physical but cognitive—a gradual erosion of the sharpness that once defined you.

In its place, a new narrative emerges. Football dominates your mind—Nick Bosa's stats, the plays of the 49ers. It's as if sports trivia and player statistics fill the gaps left by receding memories of literature and philosophy. Workout routines and protein shakes become your daily rituals, intertwined with memories of frat parties where showing off your gains was a source of pride and admiration.

You remember vividly the time when you and your bros were goofing off, teasing each other for acting like fucking homos. Endlessly in the mirror, flexing your biceps and pecs until they shine with sweat. You could feel the burn as blood rushed to your muscles, making them grow bigger and stronger by the day. The sense of accomplishment after each workout fueled an insatiable desire to push yourself even harder next time.

You remember being at the gym with your bros, pushing yourselves to the limit during a grueling workout. The smell of sweat and testosterone filled the air as you grunted through each set, encouraging one another to go harder.

One day, things got a little out of hand when you decided it would be funny to rip a gross protein fart in someone's face during downtime. PFFFFFFTTT Laughter ensued but so did an overpowering stench that lingered long afterward – even in the showers later on, you found yourself growing dumber by the minute as if unable to process basic information like addition or subtraction anymore due solely to this lingering odor clouding your mind.

The once-keen mind now swims in a constant haze, like a permanent state of drunkenness. Thoughts are simpler, actions more instinctual. You revel in the camaraderie of locker rooms, the adrenaline of the field, and the thrill of physical prowess. Intellectual pursuits fade into the background, replaced by a newfound appreciation for physicality and camaraderie.

You awaken and find yourself at a raging frat party, where the air is thick with excitement and the beat of music pulsates through the crowded room.

As you make your way through the crowd of the party, the changes become palpable. Your face, once marked by youthful innocence and boyish soft features, begins to shift. There's a subtle hardening of your jawline, a chiseling of your cheekbones into a more angular shape. The lines of your face sharpen, mirroring a rugged determination and confidence that exudes from every pore.

The party scene materializes—a frat house buzzing with energy, filled with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and the faint hint of testosterone. You remember the cheers, the high-fives, the sense of camaraderie that surged through you like a tidal wave.

Amidst the revelry, a cross necklace slips around your neck—an unexpected accessory that feels strangely comforting. It's as if with each clasp, a subtle shift occurs within you. The liberal, woke ideals you once held dear start to fade, replaced by a deepening conservatism and a newfound faith.

You find yourself thinking about how liberals are just a bunch of whiney pansy-ass snowflakes, crying about their lame-ass woke agenda.

You find yourself immersed in conversations about sports, politics from a conservative viewpoint, and the importance of faith in shaping moral values. Your vocabulary shifts, becoming peppered with phrases like "alpha," "bro," and "dude." reflecting a growing sense of identity—one that aligns with traditional notions of masculinity and righteousness. You bump into your best bro, Chaz, a linebacker for the college football team. He's already fucking wasted as shit. He's got a beer in one hand and the ass of some sorority bimbo in the other.

"Hey man, how's it going?" you ask as you give Chaz a fist bump.

"Fuckin' great," he grunts in response. "I just beat the shit out of some faggy snowflake loser who thought he was too smart for his own good."

You nod along in agreement, feeling your blood boil at the mere mention of liberals and their woke ideals. "Yeah bro, those guys need to learn their place," you say with conviction. "They think they can just walk around being all sensitive and shit...well not on my watch!"

Chaz chuckles before patting you on the back. "That's my boy," he says proudly.

You become more assertive, bordering on brash. Your actions are bold, filled with bravado—a display of confidence that borders on arrogance. At the party, you're the center of attention, regaling others with tales of conquests both on the field and in bed. The admiration and envy in their eyes fuel your sense of self-importance.

As the night wears on, you find yourself surrounded by like-minded individuals, bonding over shared ideals of masculinity, conservatism, and Christian values. The party becomes a celebration of these newfound convictions, a reaffirmation of identity that feels both liberating and confining.

As you navigate through the pulsating crowd at the party, your steps grow increasingly unsteady with each sip from your red plastic cup. The alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening you with a false sense of confidence. Your demeanor shifts subtly, from casual revelry to a more exaggerated swagger—a display of bravado that borders on arrogance.

Through the haze of the party lights and the din of music, you spot her—a pretty girl, a pretty drunk girl with her friends, laughing and chatting animatedly. Her long, flowing hair catches your eye first, illuminated by the flickering lights. She's wearing a stylish outfit that accentuates her figure, exuding a natural allure that draws you in.

As she laughs with her friends, her smile lighting up the space around her. She's wearing a tight, revealing outfit that accentuates every curve, drawing attention effortlessly.

You find this chick incredibly hot. Her tits look huge in her tight outfit, straining against the fabric as she laughs and talks with her friends. There's no denying that she's dressed like a fucking slut, there's no way she's not looking for some action tonight.

You can't help but think of all the ways you could pleasure her; how good it would feel to have those big tits bouncing up and down as she rides your cock while she moans your name. The thought alone makes your blood rush and muscles twitch with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you make your move towards them, hoping that tonight will be the night where all your fantasies come true.

With a surge of bravado and a newfound sense of confidence, you make your way towards her, navigating through the crowded party. Your muscles tense subtly beneath your shirt as you approach, a smirk playing on your lips. You know you've got her attention even before you say a word.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you greet her, your voice carrying an edge of cockiness and slurred drunkenness. "Enjoying the party?"

She looks you up and down, her gaze lingering appreciatively on your physique. "Oh, definitely," she replies, a playful glint in her eye. "Especially now."

You can't resist showing off a bit. With a confident grin, you flex your biceps, the muscles bulging impressively. "Like what you see?" you tease, punctuating your question with a quick pec dance, causing your chest muscles to ripple under your shirt.

Her friends giggle in response, egging you on with cheers and playful banter. The girl herself leans in closer, her demeanor flirtatious and unapologetic. "Very impressive," she remarks, her voice teasing.

"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard," you boast, leaning in a little closer to her. "But enough about me. What's your name?"

As you flex your biceps, she can't help but feel the thickness of your muscles beneath her fingertips. Her eyes widen in surprise and admiration at the sight before her.

Blushing deeply, she bites down on her lower lip – a telltale sign of how horny you're making this little slut. It's clear that this girl is interested in more than just conversation; she wants to explore what else lies beneath those bulging muscles.

She introduces herself, her smile widening as she matches your flirtatious energy. The conversation flows effortlessly between you, punctuated by laughter and lingering gazes that speak volumes. You revel in the attention, enjoying the rush of attraction and the validation of your confidence.

"You know what they say," you smirk, leaning in closer to her. "Want to see what a real man is like?"

Without waiting for an answer, you yell over the music and laughter for your bro Chaz. He appears moments later with a keg in hand, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of this potential conquest. You motion towards him and he slides the keg closer before taking off again into the crowd.

Grabbing two plastic cups from somewhere nearby, you start to fill them both up with beer before handing one to her. As she takes it from your hands, your eyes travel down her body – lingering on those "big tits straining against her top and that fat ass encased within tight jeans…god damn she's hot little slut!" you think. With each pump of the keg comes another surge of desire; any notion of your old boyfriend is washed away by now replaced instead by an overwhelming need feel manly tonight here now this very moment right here right now while also experiencing deep-seated homophobia. The thought of two dudes kissing makes you want to puke. You can't stand the idea that someone might think you're gay just because they saw you hanging out with another guy.

Your disgust for fags only fuels your desire for the chick in front of you. She represents everything that's feminine and attractive - everything that a fag isn't. As she grinds against you on the dance floor, all thoughts of fags disappear from your mind as your horniness reaches new heights

Nothing else matters; the only thing that matters is getting laid tonight. As she takes a sip from her cup, your dick hardens in anticipation. Without hesitation, you grab her fat ass and pull her closer for a drunk makeout session while Chaz cheers you on from nearby.

"Babe," you slur in your thick New Jersey accent between kisses, "you're so fucking hot." Your hands roam over her body as she moans breathlessly into your mouth. "I wanna fuck you so bad."

"Giovanni—Gio—take me! You big Italian stallion; I need your thick cock!" she moans breathlessly, with that cocky smile still plastered across your face, there's no turning back now…your fate as the biggest college douchebag ready to plant his seed across campus has been sealed. You fuck the dumb slut with all the passion and aggression of a true alpha male. The cheers from your fellow frat bros only serve to fuel your ego, making you feel cockier and cockier with each thrust. This is what it means to be a man – taking what you want when you want it without hesitation or remorse. And right now, all that matters is claiming this woman as yours while satisfying your primal urges...

You wake up the next morning, hungover as fuck but feeling pretty damn good about yourself. As you stretch out your muscles and roll over in bed, two dumb blonde cheerleaders suddenly appear – tickling your thick abs and impressive pecs playfully.

"One of you sluts gonna suck it?" you ask with a grin on your face. They both smile back at you knowingly before climbing onto the bed to fulfill their duties as groupies...

As the two hottest chicks on campus go to town on your dick, you can't help but think: "Lord forgive me." But who cares about forgiveness when you're experiencing this kind of pleasure? Their lips and tongues work in perfect harmony as they take turns sucking and stroking your cock. You moan loudly, lost in the moment – enjoying every second of this decadent morning after.

[kenntolog]

Hiiiii I love love lovee your loser gf! Series

Can I please request a loser gf! who is a new nurse and she's kind of nervous for her first shift at the hospital and cool bf sukuna gives her the confidence yk

Thank youuuu!!

𝝑𝝔 an: look i have lotsa respect for nurses, its crazy out there for them too man. i was barely able to get through that course alive😭😭 but i am just a weakling so anyways, i will not write any more nurse reader requests tho!! i dont intend on specifying the characters’ degrees anyway. not proofread. enjoy <33

cool boyfriend sukuna is on his way to surprise visit you on your first shift as a nurse after his basketball practice, when the familiar ringtone of his phone fills his ear, a smirk appearing on his lips when he sees your name on his screen.

“what’s up, loser? kill anyone yet?”

“that’s not funny, ‘kunaa~” you say, despair evident in your slightly whiny tone that he likes to tease you about. “i’ve been here for a few hours at most and i’ve talked to more people than i’ve ever done in my life.”

“that’s a crazy statement. you sure you’re not exaggerating?” he probes once again, already imagining your exasperated expression as you rub your forehead in distress.

“no! ugh—” you sigh out, your voice becoming a little shaky. sukuna tenses in his seat, the smirk disappearing immediately as he listens in for any more signs of your nervousness. “i-i don’t think i can do this.”

he clicks his tongue, looking for a parking spot near your hospital, “hold on, baby, d’you think you can come out for a little bit? i think you need some air.”

you mumble out a weak ‘okay’, but don’t end the call which is better than nothing. sukuna quickly gets out of the car and strides to the entrance, patiently waiting for you to walk out. not realising that he’s actually visiting you and is currently standing just a little bit farther from the entry, you slowly step out and start slowly pacing around, still breathing into the phone. it seems to him, that somehow it calms you, listening to him breathing and doing it along with him.

a small smile appears on his lips when he eventually sees you, steps halting as he speaks into his phone again.

“dark red? that’s a nice choice.” he compliments with an appreciative tone, referring to the colour of your scrubs that you hadn’t shown him beforehand.

“thank you, suku— wait,” he watches you still in your spot for a second before you start looking around haphazardly, your voice getting loud enough for him to hear without the phone as soon as you notice him. “sukuna!”

you quickly run to him, arms spread out readily to wrap around his middle, and bury your face in his chest while he pets the top of your head, not caring about the neat hairstyle you made before.

“you good?”

it’s a simple question and his tone doesn’t indicate how worried he is actually. however, one look into his expressive eyes and you can clearly understand that he is full of care and love and affection. you peck his chest and look up at him, bottom lip jutting out in a cute pout and watery eyes trained on his as he cups your jaw.

“i don’t think i’m fit for this,” you sniffle, hiding yourself in his palm. “it’s so quick and busy and i—”

“and you’re just not used to this.”

sukuna watches you frown, begrudgingly nodding in agreement as he nods along too, continuing.

“and you’re nervous, s’okay.”

you nod again, rubbing your eyes a little too roughly for his liking.

“you’ve come a long way, loser, don’t back out of this now just ‘cause of some pressure. you can take it.”

exhaling shakily, you hug sukuna once again, whining some incoherent words into his chest, that probably aren’t even words and just a way for you to let go of the tension. sukuna ruffles your hair and kisses the top of your head, pulling away abruptly when an ambulance wheels by your side, it’s siren making you shudder.

“go and do what you need to do. don’t think about anything else, loser, and certainly don’t think about me.”

his insides melt at the soft smile that spreads on your face at his words and he leans in to quickly kiss your lips, pushing your body away simultaneously.

“i will pick you up when you’re done.”

“bye, kuna!”

he watches you run towards the entrance again, where a woman, seemingly older than you and probably the head nurse, starts scolding you, an amused chuckle escaping him at the sight of your embarrassed expression.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Rápido

Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x child!reader

Warnings: none except more shitty writing sorry

You’re still only small, still wobbly on your little legs, and still along way off being able to express your feelings opting to often at times throw tantrums.

You’ve spent more time on football fields than in playgrounds, more time in locker rooms, training rooms, and even physio rooms than a nursery, interacting with children your own age. But that’s to be expected when your Mama and Mamaí are world-class athletes playing for one of the best teams in the world. Surely the experiences they give you during your globetrotting are way better than the silly little nursery, your classmates are also professional athletes who know how to walk, talk and write, is that not better for you than some other snot-nosed two-year-olds who cry when they can’t reach a colour to draw on paper with.

But while all of these experiences are great, you’ve never really learned to share, you haven’t had to, your Mamaí’s are yours, your Tia’s and Grandparents are too. They have to be, they don’t spend any time with any other little kids like they do you. Your their baby, the teams baby they remind you as such when you start to kick off at the sight of them holding other kids hands as they walk out on to the pitch while your stuck with your Tia Alba and Abuela.

It was routine at this stage frustration would bubble in your tiny chest like a deflated soccer ball. You would stomp your foot, a wobbly attempt that would send you teetering before Tia Alba swooped you up, whispering words you didn't quite understand in order to calm you down.

Today is different though, you don't arrive at the stadium with Tia Alba and Abuela, in fact, you don't even get dropped off at Abuela's house, maybe your Mamai's forgot but you don't dare let out a sound in case they remember.

A grin stretched ear to ear on your face as Mama hoisted you out of the car seat. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass and popcorn mingled in the air, a symphony that announced you'd arrived at your favourite place – Camp Nou, Barcelona's legendary stadium. But today, something felt different. It was just you and Mamai's. Mama was here, her strong arms scooping you up and burying your face in the familiar scent of sweat and something sweet that must be Mamaí's perfume. While your Mamí retrieves everyone's bags from the back of the car before coming over and smiling down at you.

"Hola, Rápido," Mamí chuckled, her voice warm against your ear. "Excited for the big game?." You nod happily "Si, Mamí."

Suddenly, there's a loud shout from behind you and your Mamaí’s turn to see Mapi running straight for you all.

"There's my favourite niece!" she exclaimed, reaching out her hands. You giggled at the energetic defender reaching towards her, wanting to be passed off. Your Mama laughs happily giving you over "Hola to you too Mapi." Mapi waves your Mama off as she starts talking to you excitedly and begins to walk inside, Ingrid pulls your Mama into a hug "Hola Ale, Jenni how is Rápido today?." Your Mamaí’s begin to walk in with the younger Norwegian as they smile at the sound of your giggles. "She is good, she still doesn't know about the surprise yet." Ingrid smiled watching your interaction with Mapi as they made their way into the changing room "I think she'll love it."

Your eyes widened as you entered the locker room, hand clutched tightly in Mapi's. It wasn't just the usual pre-game buzz. Today, colourful balloons were tied to every locker, and a giant banner adorned the wall that read: "Welcome to the Team, Rápido!"

A gasp escaped your tiny lips. All your Tia's, your Mamaí's teammates, were gathered around, beaming at you. Cata, the gentle giant of a goalkeeper, knelt down, her arms outstretched. you were, usually shy around so many people, but you ran towards her, a shy smile forming on your face. Cata scooped you up, showering you with tickles, making you erupt in a fit of giggles.

Suddenly, a booming voice filled the room. "Rápido!" It was your Mama, holding a tiny Barcelona jersey with the number "10" emblazoned on the back. It was small just like you, the number your Mamí always wore. Your eyes welled up with a mixture of confusion and excitement.

Mama explained, "This is your jersey, Rápido. You're officially part of the team now!"

Unable to word how grateful you were you ran straight for your Mama, who didn't hesitate to pick you up and hold you close and squeeze her as tight as your little arms could "Gracias Mama." Your Mamí lets out a gasp pretending you had hurt her feelings after not coming over to her. You wiggled out of your Mama's arms as she put you down before running over to your Mamí " Wow so fast Rápido." You nodded happily before trying to squeeze her just like you did your Mama "I'm wearing you." Mamí laughs "Yeah you are wearing my number."

The locker room erupted in cheers and whistles. Mapi hoisted you high in the air, your tiny "10" jersey flapping in the excitement.

Ingrid ruffled your hair playfully. "Looks like we have a new teammate, and she's already stealing the spotlight from Alexia!"

Your Mama, playfully nudged Ingrid with a grin. "Don't worry," she winked, "I think Rápido has plenty of time to learn from the best."

Cata, still beaming, handed you a miniature soccer ball. It was soft and squishy, perfect for your tiny grasp. You bounced it clumsily on the floor, sending giggles rippling through the room. You lay the football down stepping back from the ball and looking at Cata before kicking the ball as hard as you could, Cata softly fell to the right as your ball rolled left past the goalkeeper. The locker room erupted into cheers as the door opened and Jonatan walked in.

"Ladies we have a game to get ready for vamos." The room let out a small apology as your Mamí picked you up putting you on her bench before getting changed into her own kit.

"So you're going to walk out with Mama doesn't that sound fun." You nodded "And you." Mamí shakes her head "No remember I have to hold another little kid's hand." You looked at her confused "Why."

The confusion etched on your face tugged at your Mamí's heartstrings.

"Because today," Mamí explained, kneeling next to you, "we get to share the walkout with other special little kids. Just like you get to today."

Your brow furrowed, the gears turning in your tiny mind. The idea of sharing wasn't entirely foreign, but it usually involved toys, not something as special as walking out onto the pitch at Camp Nou.

That same frustration bubbled in your tiny chest like a deflated soccer ball only this time it felt ten times worse.

You shook your head confused as to why you couldn't walk with both of your parents like you normally do happily in the middle "but why."

Suddenly, the locker room door opened "Ok ladies to the tunnel." Your Mama comes over taking your hand "Ready Rápido?." You shook your head "No Mamí." Your Mama looked at you her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion "Mamí is right there."

You turn your head just in time to see your Mamí take the hand of a random little girl.

A pang of jealousy shot through your heart as you watched Mamí clasp hands with the unfamiliar girl. Her smile, usually reserved for you and Mama, was directed at this stranger. You mumbled, a tiny voice barely a squeak, "But that's not me, Mamí."

Your Mama's brow furrowed. She crouched down, her warm brown eyes filled with concern. "What's wrong, Rápido?"

You struggled to find the words, your lower lip trembling slightly. Finally, it tumbled out, a garbled mess of emotions, "Walk out... with you... and Mamí ... in the middle..."

Your Mama tries but fails to stop your tears and before she can even talk to your Mamí about it the referees in front are walking towards the pitch.

Your Mama tries to walk out after them but your feet are planted firmly to the ground and you are really crying now Alexia knows you are boarding on a tantrum and the Camp Nou tunnel is not it the place for it so she scoops you up Instead, pulling your head into her neck as you continue to cry.

The cheers of the crowd outside the tunnel were a distant roar compared to the storm raging inside you. The hope of walking out with both your parents, a tiny hand held firmly in each of theirs, felt stolen, replaced by an unfamiliar girl who had somehow usurped your special place.

Mama, ever perceptive, felt her frustration even through the tears. "Shh, Rápido," she whispered, "It's okay to feel sad."

Pulling back slightly, she wiped your tear-streaked face with a gentle thumb. "Remember what I told you? Sharing your Mamí and I doesn't mean we you any less. This a chance to share the magic of the game with other little fans, just like you."

You sniffled, trying to process this. Sharing toys was okay, even sharing snacks with you Tia's sometimes. But this felt different. This was your little family.

Sensing your hesitation, Mama smiled. "Why don't we make a deal? Right now, your Mamí walks out with the other little girl and holds her hand. Later, all three of us to walk together and Mamí and I will swing you, would you like that?"

At this point your standing in line every other mascot in front of a Barcelona player except you as your Mama still tries to bribe you.

A tiny spark of hope flickered in your eyes. The thought of playing the swing game might just be enough for you to settle.

Your Mamí looks over to you and Mama worries etched across her face but Alexia just shakes her head and so Jenni turns back to the front.

You only begin to calm down after your Mama has pinky promised to swing you after the match, only then are you happy to go off and sit with Abuela and Tia Alba telling them happily about scoring on Cata and how Mama and Mamí are going to swing you.

Later, as the stadium erupted in cheers, Mamí found you by Abuela and Tia Alba. you were, still buzzing from the match rattling off all your favourite moments as Mamí listened patiently.  At a pause in your ramble Mamí held up her pinky finger with a wink.

"Swing time, Rápido,?" she asked.

You squealed with delight, launching yourself into Mamí's arms for a tight hug. As you walked towards your Mama, the tantrum and jealousy from earlier had completely disappeared. 

Grabbing your Mama's hand you let out a scream as they swung you high into the air laughing at your little giggles. You still have a long way to go with sharing but for now, it's just you and Your Mama and Mamí.

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra VI

Read Neighbors here | ~2.2 k words

From me: based on this ask. Not sure when it takes place exactly--but I'm thinking early on once they are officially a couple. But I don't think it's necessarily relevant to their timeline

Warnings: talking about periods and blood (a little), mostly fluffy

Summary: Rory has never had someone to ask why Mumma gets a little grumpy every month. Or why she needs to carry sticks in her purse. Harry had never thought about how his mum would have to continue life while grumpy, tired, and uncomfortable when he was young until he watched her do it.

Harry was working at the desk set up in the living room that she had kindly insisted he use for his work. When Harry was at work, they were allowed to watch TV quietly, unless Harry had a client in which case she and Rory would either go run errands or play in his room quietly or Harry would go into the spare room and set up a more private session for his client. But the times in which they were all home while Harry was working were far and few between.

But today was designated to mainly paperwork and going over his schedule for the coming week. She was lying on the couch watching something for the last hour. Rory was off in his room playing with his toys. The weather was crummy so there wasn’t much to do to be entertained other than what they were currently doing. “Mumma?” Rory called.

Harry happened to glance up in the mirror above him. It was shaped like a windowpane and caught the reflection of most of the room—including her lounging on the couch. Harry liked the spot because he got to admire how pretty she looked lazed along the sofa. He wanted to snuggle up to her immediately and gave him motivation to get through his work faster with the thought of doing so.

She loved being a mum. It was evident on her face. Harry thought that there weren’t many people who would be more fit to be a mum than her. But right then she looked utterly exhausted. In fact, Harry realized at that moment she was a bit flushed, her cheeks pink for seemingly no reason. “Yeah, love bug?” She called back quietly.

“Can you come here?!” He called back. Harry watched her in the mirror as she closed her eyes, sighed, and pushed herself off the comfy couch.

“Y’alright, kitten?” He asked. She nodded, barely acknowledging that he had spoken, and headed for Rory’s room. Frowning, Harry turned in the chair and watched her leave. She could hear her and Rory chatting a bit. Her voice was warm as always but missing the enthusiasm she usually had when playing with her son. Harry wondered if she was getting sick.

“...in a few minutes, baby. I’m sorry.”

Harry’s frown deepened and he waited for her to return. Instead, the bathroom door down the hall closed with a thud. Since Harry was waiting for the sounds of her being sick, he was attuned to the sound of her second massive sigh and the sound of the cabinet below the sink slamming. It was surreal that Harry knew all the sounds in the house after only being there a short time. The way he knew whose footfalls were on the stairs (admittedly it was easy to tell between her and Rory given he was still little). “Rory, we gotta run to the store!” She said coming out to the main room grabbing her keys off the side table next to the stairs.

“But Mumma, I’m in the middle of—”

“Rory, I’m not in the mood. We are going now. It’ll be ten minutes.”

“But—”

“Kitten,” Harry murmured standing from the desk and putting a hand on her arm. “Are y’sure y’alright?”

She nodded and looked away from his face, embarrassed it seemed. For what he didn’t know. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Rory!” She called again.

“Mumma I’m—”

“Rory,” Harry called quietly as she inhaled to call for him again. Frustration coated her face. Her cheeks seemed to be getting pinker by the second and Harry could practically see the pain in her eyes, her head...

And her stomach.

“Listen t’Mummy and come here for a minute, please.”

Rory left his room immediately; his steps audible on the carpet upstairs. She rolled her eyes. “Course he listens to you,” a bitter tone in her voice. Harry frowned and turned to Rory as he entered the main room.

“I was in the middle of—”

“I know, but we have a mission,” Harry said and took the purse off her shoulder and guided her to the couch. “Mumma needs us t’get a few things for her,” he told him. He put a blanket around her and put the remote in her hand. Her lips parted slightly as she watched him and didn’t even allow her a moment to speak. “We can finish your stuff when we get back.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he shook his head firmly.

Pouting, Rory sighed and went to the door to put on his shoes.

“Harry,” she was looking at Harry like she had seen a ghost. “You’re working,” she reminded him.

“Working from home, kitten. It has some perks. S’fine. Think y’need a minute or two t’yourself, yeah?” He asked. “Will y’send me a picture of the kind of products y’like?” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Y’can take a bath if y’want,” he suggested and headed toward the door and helped Rory to his feet and ushered him into his raincoat.

“But—” She started to stand again.

“Kitten, no buts,” he said and closed the door behind him.

*

As the tub filled and water heated up, she tried to figure out if there was gift that was significant enough to award him as the best boyfriend ever in existence. Amazon was useless and she was completely at a loss since Harry was annoying and bought anything he wanted or needed for himself. She gave up after a bit of browsing and the tub was filled to an appropriate level.

She took Harry’s suggestion as soon as they left. She headed to the master bathroom and made herself a bubble bath. She desperately wished she had one of those fancy tubs that was basically an indoor jacuzzi. Because she would have killed for a jet on her sore back. But it was okay because the water was hotter than she could almost feasibly stand. Harry would say it was liquid lava. For her birthday, Harry got her a speaker to play her music while she was showering. So she played music quietly and grabbed the book she had started earlier and put it on the ledge of the tub. Sinking into the water felt like heaven on her body and skin. She sighed, content with relief. The book could wait, she would consider sleeping in the tub.

*

“Mumma was mean,” Harry could see Rory in the rearview mirror. He was pouting and looked out the window. His jacket was littered with raindrops, and he looked annoyed. “I was playing my game.”

“I know y’were,” Harry nodded. “S’jus’...Mummy wasn’t really feeling well. So, she wasn’t mean on purpose.” He sighed dramatically. In the way a child with no bills, no car troubles, and no job could sigh as if the world was on his shoulders. “I’ve seen y’give Mummy some attitude, lad,” he reminded him pointedly glancing at him in the mirror once more. Rory pursed his lips. Harry was good at calling Rory out for being a bit of a diva. It kept him from being spoiled when he was certain that she was definitely going to continue spoiling her son. He couldn’t blame her. His own mum was guilty of treating Harry as the baby (and Gemma loved to remind them both of such).

He couldn’t wait to tell Gemma about the predicament he was now in.

“Is Mumma sick?” Rory pulled him from his thoughts.

Harry shook his head. He wondered if she had ever mentioned it to Rory before. Probably not. What did a six-year-old boy need to know about a period? “No, she’s jus’ a little...grumpy because she’s in pain,” he explained.

“Why’s she in pain?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Her tummy hurts.”

“We didn’t get any ginger ale or popsicles! Mumma always gets ginger ale and popsicles when my tummy hurts. We have to go back, Harry!”

He smiled. “It’s not her tummy. It just looks like her tummy. Do you remember how Mummy had you in her belly?”

He nodded. “Does Mumma have another baby in there?”

Harry coughed. His cheeks reddened even though Rory hadn’t a clue what he insinuated. “No,” he shook his head. “No, but s’an organ that women have holds the baby,” he explained. “When it doesn’t have a baby in it though, it makes Mummy bleed so that next month if she wanted t’try t’have a baby she—”

“Is Mumma gonna die!?” He asked his voice breaking hysterically.

“No, no,” he chuckled. “No,” he pulled off to the side of the road. “No, she’s fine.”

“But you said she’s bleeding! We have to get bandaids!”

“S’not that kind of cut, Rory,” he smirked and turned in his seat. He grabbed Rory’s leg and gave it a squeeze. “Mummy is fine. Do y’think I’d be this calm if Mummy was hurt?”

The little one released a breath once more like he just got news that he wasn’t laid off this quarter. Or that his test results came back negative. “How can Mumma bleed and be okay without a bandaid?”

“S’hard t’explain. Has t’do with getting older and—”

“Am I going to bleed?!”

Harry snorted. “No, lad. S’something only women have t’deal with.”

“Oh,” he thought for a second. “That’s not really fair to Mumma.”

Harry chuckled. “Make sure y’tell her that. She’ll appreciate your thought.”

“How come Mumma isn’t getting blood everywhere?” He asked.

Harry felt a little out of his depth now. It wasn’t like telling Rory he would teach him how to pee standing up if he needed the help. Or that if he had questions about penises, he would do his best to answer. Harry wasn’t an expert on periods, nor did he feel qualified to answer lots of questions about them. Especially to her girlfriend’s son. “Mummy has products that we bought that help her manage the bleeding,” he answered truthfully.

He glanced at the bag on the seat beside him and his little forehead wrinkled in concentration. It was an expression he most definitely inherited from his mum. It was adorable. “Oh...Mumma carries those sticks in her purse!”

Harry smiled. “Exactly.”

“Does ginger ale make it better?”

“Not exactly. There’s medicine,” he told him. “Mumma just needs t’rest and watch movies. She’ll feel better tomorrow...ice cream might help too.”

He nodded. “Can we make her a snuggle spot on the couch?”

“I think that would be perfect, Rory.”

*

She was already in the TV-watching, resting position on the couch when they returned. Her hair was still damp, and she felt marginally better. “Hey boys,” she smiled sweetly.

Rory was kicking his shoes off and across the room before Harry had shut the door. “Mumma, Harry said that you’re bleeding so we have to give you ice cream and snuggle.”

She smirked at Harry who was full-on blushing as he shrugged out of his wet jacket. “That would help.”

Rory hopped onto the couch and cozied up in front of her. Harry dropped the stuff beside the coffee table and sat next to her legs. He pulled them into her lap and leaned over to gently massage her lower back. “Mumma?” Rory asked.

“Yes, love bug?”

“I don’t think it’s fair you have to bleed, and Harry doesn’t.”

She giggled. “Me either,” she winked at Harry.

*

Harry took care of bedtime and snuggled into bed behind her. His hand may as well have found a direct path to her uterus as he massaged the cramps. “Was I really mean?” She asked.

“No, love. Course not,” he assured her and kissed the back of her head. “S’not your fault y’don’t feel well.”

“Did you teach Rory about periods, Dr. Styles?” She giggled.

He smirked. “Yeah, but I think y’need t’double check m’work,” he admitted. “Nearly convinced him y’were dying.”

She laughed again. “That was...really sweet,” she whispered. “Never...never had someone know what I needed and just go get it,” he pulled her closer. His face tucked into her neck, and he pressed a line of kisses along the curve down to her shoulder.

“Anytime, kitten. Y’jus’ have t’ask,” he reminded her. “Want t’do everything for you,” he squeezed her gently. She rotated in his arms, and she couldn’t see him in the dark, but it didn’t matter. With both hands, she held his face and the back of his head and brought her face closer to his so she could kiss him.

He chuckled against her mouth and returned the kiss. It felt so nice to kiss her every single time. It was warm, gentle, and so filled with love it made him woozy. She sighed softly against his mouth and Harry wanted to be closer, kiss her harder somehow. But settled for the lazy make-out session instead. “I love you so much, kitten,” he rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you so much.”

“Do y’want me t’rub your back again?” He asked quietly.

“I love you more than anything in this world.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73

neighbors taglist: @claimingharrystigertattoo @mopeymousey @vmpellie

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[miinatozakiii]

routines and repeats

pham hanni x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you and hanni have a routine, something like that, maybe a little far off... maybe it's not really a routine -- it doesn't really matter because hanni's apart of it.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: none?? ; not proofread

a/n: wrote this in one sitting again muahhaha enjoy thank u for the support and attention and love and jaajksdlfdsal everything for my newjeans fics :-} love u all

you and hanni have settled into a comfortable rhythm. it's not exactly a routine in the traditional sense—nowhere near as meticulously organized as minji's planner of goals and daily tasks, nor as structured as haerin's repetitive art gig schedule. but whatever it is between you and hanni, it's uniquely yours.

but you and hanni have found your own thing, a sort of groove that makes you both content. it's the kind of routine where things just naturally fall into place, where you spend time together without needing a plan, and that's what really matters. 

there's no set list of things to do, nothing is really planned (unless there's a very special occasion), but there are noticeable patterns and repeats of things that happen here and there. 

what matters is that you two are happy with how disorganized and scattered things are because that’s what fits the two of you perfectly. with everything so in order and mapped out, where’s the flexibility? where’s the fun? besides, you and hanni like what you have, and this spontaneous routine brings a smile to your faces at the end of the day.

–

you’ve been together long enough to know that hanni is either taking up most of the space of the bed, or clinging onto you like a koala and breathing into your neck with her mouth half open. despite how stupid she looks while sleeping, it only makes you love her more.

she’s usually the last to wake up and always woken up by you. on weekdays, you poke her cheek after hearing her alarm or shake her up a bit, but she never budges. 

“hanni you have a class in less than two hours…” you mumble, not wanting to be up either. 

“that means one more hour to sleep… please babe.”

“absolutely not. you won’t have time to eat or get ready and then you’ll whine and complain and–”

your girlfriend cuts you off with another groan, slowly removing herself from the crook of your neck with her eyes still closed. you squint at her and smile sleepily, rubbing your eyes before you fix her messy bedhead.

hanni opens her eyes just barely to see you grinning at her, earning a pout from your girlfriend.

“i don’t want to get up.”

“me neither, but you have to.”

“do i?” she frowns as you get up from where you are, watching you lean against the bedframe as you yawn.

“do you want your degree? think about the job you’ll have and the pets we’ll have and our life and–”

“shut up shut up okay! fine.” hanni responds, making you laugh.

every morning, you kiss her on the cheek, forehead, or hand because you two made a pact not to initiate anything lip to lip due to morning breath. at least that’s set in stone; maybe you can be organized if there’s something guaranteed to happen every morning. this small ritual brings a sense of comfort and consistency, grounding your otherwise scattered routine.

additionally, you two take turns showering every morning – usually you’re first. hanni always takes a while longer since she’s fond of warmer water on her skin in comparison to your cold showers as the sun rises. and then you two brush your teeth together, hanni’s usually sitting on the counter glancing at your tired features while you stare into the mirror and hum a small song. 

hanni likes to stay silent and simply enjoy your presence, she’s a firm believer that if you start your day off with something great, then the day can only get better from there.

(she thinks you’re more than great, so everyday is a wonderful day.)

-

hanni usually gets back from her classes about ninety minutes before you head to work, so you use that time to spend together. the afternoon to evening hours are when you miss each other the most, so these precious minutes become your little oasis, a pocket of time where everything else fades away and it's just the two of you, making the most of your time together before life pulls you in different directions.

you're usually either making lunch or catching up on your own tasks by the time she arrives home, something you've grown accustomed to. her arrival marks a familiar cadence in your day, a moment when the energy of the house shifts subtly to accommodate her presence.

you feel arms wrapping around your waist and a head on your shoulder (she has to go on the tips of her toes to do this), you don’t even turn around, knowing it’s hanni.

“hey lover.”

“hello beautiful.” hanni says before kissing your cheek, missing a little and ending up with hair meeting her lips istead of your skin. “missed you.”

“missed you more. how were your classes?”

hanni always says the same thing, or something similar at least. “it was whatever, boring as always.”

“aw, at least you’re back. i’m making rice bowls, go unwind okay?”

“mhm, love you.” she kisses your cheek – not missing this time – and starts for your shared room in the single bedroom apartment. 

it doesn’t take long for her to return, now wearing a different t-shirt (yours), before she's back to clinging onto you while you pack up your lunch box and prepare her meal. hanni eventually ends up sitting on the counter, legs dangling, as she watches you and sings along to your shared playlist. you can't resist giving her a little kiss here and there – just because – since it's impossible not to when she's around.

you hand her the bowl of rice and chicken, a simple meal but seasoned to perfection in hanni’s opinion.

she has her legs wrapped around your waist as she pulls you in, taking a bite of the food you’ve made her and melting. she nods her head, clearly enjoying the meal.

“yeah, this is ass.” 

you scoff as you watch her devour another bite. “right, you’re eating it like the bowl is about to run away from you.”

hanni shrugs. “mid, wouldn’t recommend actually.”

“aw, i guess i shouldn’t cook anymore – ever — since it’s so bad.”

“yeah.” hanni giggles after she finishes her bite, smiling at you like an idiot. “it’s whatever, you’re already very delicious to the eyes.”

“oh my god, you piss me off.” you lie, starting to smile and laugh at her. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

“crazy take but okay.”

hanni rolls her eyes before you get up to finish boxing your lunch, putting it in your work bag and zipping it up. she frowns watching you, not really fond of the fact that you’re leaving her for a few hours.

the two of you always spend the afternoons on the four days that you work together on the couch for a bit, cuddled together as hanni finishes up some work or rereads notes on her laptop. you like this pattern; you adore being near your girlfriend. the warmth of her presence and the simple pleasure of being close make those moments precious to you.

(you don’t care if this isn’t something that would be written on a planner, besides, ‘cuddles at 12:20 sound stupid written out.)

you just like the flow and simplicity of your days. it doesn’t matter, really. as long as hanni is involved and beside you.)

—

your shared evenings and nights vary depending on the day. it’s always unorganized.

sometimes you’re out shopping for essentials, and it’s usually spontaneous, with hanni fighting for her life to make a list and remember everything the two of you need in your shared fridge all within a ten-minute drive. it makes you laugh hearing her curse as she forgets whether you’ve run out of protein for your meals or if you already used the backup conditioner and need a new one. 

on weekends or holidays when time allows, you often find yourselves cozied up together. whether it's snuggled on the couch watching a movie, or out for a quiet dinner or a stroll to some hidden gem haerin discovered, these moments are cherished. hanni's arms wrap around you, her hoodie soon becoming your cozy shield against the chill of the evening, leaving you in just a tank top or a soft t-shirt. the feeling of contentment washes over you as you lean back into her warmth, sighing with a smile, savoring each precious moment together.

other nights, you’re out with your friend group, usually downtown or at one of their apartments. hanni always stays close to you, holding your hand or linking arms with you, while danielle and minji debate over which store to check out or which restaurant is better. even as the whole group— you, hanni, haerin, hyein (if she’s not busy with high school stuff), danielle, and minji— dives into deep conversations or somehow ends up arguing, you and hanni are experiencing and engaging in everything together. there’s almost never a night without her by your side.

but most of the time you’re in bed finishing up school work as hanni finishes her very lengthy nightcare routine, waiting for her to show up at the doorway with a towel loosely sitting on her head with her lips turned up as soon as she spots you.

“took you long enough.”

“hey! you take long too… you’re just always going first– this isn’t fair!”

using exaggerated hand movements, you pantomime hanni's animated way of speaking, complete with imaginary dialogue in the air. hanni flips you off and you pretend to be offended, making the two of you laugh. 

(this is one of your favorite parts of the little routine/groove you two have.)

hanni collapses onto the bed, finding solace in the comfort of your arms. you're engrossed in your laptop, catching up on tasks or maybe just browsing, while she snuggles closer. hanni is very affectionate whether she realizes it or not and it’s apparent as she peppers kisses on your exposed skin, each touch a gentle reminder of her presence and how much she treasures you. even with her phone in hand, she steals these moments to show her love, her lips brushing against your cheek or neck. 

“hey– i just need to finish this! you’re distracting me…” you mutter, which only urges her to kiss you more. “that tickles!”

“finish it quicker…” hanni groans before pressing one last kiss on your lips. you turn to look at her, pouting as you reach to pinch her cheek. she giggles before you flick her forehead. “hey!”

you like to provoke her, she’s adorable when she’s annoyed – even if it’s for a split second.

once your laptop closes and your attention turns fully to her, hanni seizes the opportunity. her kisses shift from playful to tender, each one a testament to her adoration. 

“how was your day?” she mumbles against you.

you kiss her softly before reaching over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, the table with polaroids of the two of you in a pile on it. “tiring, i was thinking of you.”

“you always are.”

“well now i’m never thinking of you again.” you joke. 

hanni scoffs playfully. you move over to lay down fully, letting out a soft sigh as hanni rests her head on your arm. “what else did you think about?”

“just you, really… i can’t remember anything else. i was thinking about the next time we could have dinner, my coworker irene recommended this place not too far away.”

“mm really?”

“yeah, they’ve got some korean-mexican fusion or something like that.”

you hear her yawn, it makes you smile. hanni feels the soft beat of your heart against her hand, then snuggles closer to you. “that sounds good.”

“you know what else sounds good?” you ask softly.

“hm?”

“you going to sleep and not complaining in the morning.”

hanni giggles quietly as she twirls your hair absentmindly with her finger. “i’ll consider it.”

“sure you will.” you murmur. you move hair away from her forehead before twisting your neck uncomfortably just to kiss her there. “goodnight, i love you.”

“i love you more.”

“uh huh.” 

and perhaps it is some sort of routine, whatever dynamic exists between you and hanni. it may not be as strategically planned as minji's structured days on that planner of hers, or as regimented as hyein's packed schedule after school, but it's uniquely yours. 

you can't quite define it, but the familiar rhythms and recurring moments, even amidst the variations each day brings, have become comforting and essential. 

whether it's hanni's morning grumbles or the shared laughs over unexpected turns, you cherish every part of it. as long as hanni remains a constant in your routine, you’re content.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my–oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent.  The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over. 

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you. 

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering. 

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes. 

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish. 

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you. 

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met. 

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it. 

[mountsmase]

a/n: hi!! it’s been a little while but I’m back! (I think?) I’ve had the worst writers block ever and I didn’t think I’d have anything to post anytime soon but this is a very little, very unedited something that I wrote yesterday after we got this pic 🤭 like I said it’s unedited and I’m posting it before I have a chance to talk myself out of it so please excuse any mistakes, this definitely isn’t amazing but I’m still really happy with it so I hope you enjoy 🫶🏻💖

word count: 2k

genre: fluff and smut without actually being smut

———————

Summer Loving - MM7

Laughter, chatter, and the sound of the waves crashing are the only things that can be heard as you sit on a rather large boat in the middle of the greek ocean.

You’re 3 days in to your holiday with Mason and his family, and it’s safe to say that you’re having the time of your life. When you first met Mason a couple of years ago, they immediately welcomed you and took you in as though you were one of their own, and you’ll forever be grateful that they continue to invite you on these amazing holidays with them.

The trip this year has been a little busier than the last couple you have done together, with his eldest sister and her family flying in to join you from Australia. All fifteen of you are staying in one big villa together and you’ve been having the time of your lives, playing in the pool all day before dressing up and going out for meals in the evening, but today has been a little different.

You all decided to rent out a boat for the day, wanting a change of scenery. The plan being to do some snorkelling and sail to different spots around the coast to give you a different view of the island, so that’s where you are now, up on the top deck of the yacht you’ve rented and sat around the large table after enjoying some lunch and a bit of time out of the sun.

You’ve been making some friendship bracelets with Summer and Poppy for the last hour or so, giving them your full attention and listening to their instructions as they show you all of their favourite beads and tell you how to use each one.

You hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else that was going on around you, which is why it takes you a few moments to realise that Mason is missing from the group after you finish tying the final knot on your last bracelet, placing it to the side for safe keeping.

“Has anyone seen Mase?” You ask, looking around again to make sure he’s not just hiding in plain sight.

The group answer with collective no’s, Lewis letting you know that he disappeared about 5 mins ago but he just assumed he was going to use the loo, so you give it another couple of minuets, waiting to see if he comes back before deciding to go and look for him.

You excuse your self from the table, heading downstairs to look inside first before making your way to the back decking when you have no luck. It takes you a few more moments to spot him, but your heart warms when you do.

He’s sitting at the back of the boat, on the lowest deck with his legs dangling in the water, his back facing you as he looks out into the distance. His tanned skin glows under the sun, decorated with his tattoos which are just begging to be touched and your skin heats at the sight of his toned arms and back, a result of the extra gym sessions he’s been fitting in.

You gravitate towards him, careful not to make too much noise as you don’t want to startle him, but as you get closer you open the camera app on your phone, wanting to take a photo of him so that you can remember the sight forever.

It’s the camera sound affect that grabs his attention, giving away your presence as he turns around to find your bikini clad body stood on the deck above him, his smile growing as he motions for you to join him.

“I was hoping you’d come and find me” he speaks, voice soft as you take the few steps down to the lower deck and walk the short distance to where he’s sitting, your phone now discarded on the side as you sit your self down behind him.

You wrap your legs around him, arms circling his waist and you both know that it’s a little too hot to be this close, but you can’t bring yourselves to care as he leans back into you, his back pressed to your front as he rests most of his weight onto you.

“What are you doing over here all alone?” You wonder, peaking at him over his shoulder.

His cheeks are flushed, and you know it’s not because of the sun when he drops his head as if he’s trying to hide from you.

“Go on, tell me” you encourage, pressing your lips to his shoulder to coax the answer from him, wondering what’s gotten him so shy all of a sudden.

“Just wanted some time alone with you, and I know it sounds bad but I knew that sneaking away would be the only way I’d get it”

He wants time alone with you and he knew you’d come looking for him.

The usual butterflies that you get around him are released from their cage as his words sink in, your own cheeks now heating up as you rest one against his shoulder blade, feeling the need to be even closer.

“All you had to do was ask me to come with you, bubs. I’m sure no one would mind”

“I know, but I didn’t want to pull you away from your bracelet making. It looked like pretty intense stuff” He laughs, remembering back to an hour ago when Summer was giving you strict instructions on how to make your bracelets and telling you what beads to use.

“Well, I’m here now.” You sit up a little straighter, hands moving to his shoulders and massaging into skin. He tilts his head, placing a kiss to the back of your hand in acknowledgment before allowing himself to relax into you again.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the view and each others company as you continue your touches, running your hands up and over his shoulder blades, down his back, and over every other inch of his skin that you can reach. Your lips follow their path and you revel in the soft hums that leave his lips every so often, his relaxed sighs letting you know that he’s enjoying himself so you can’t find it in you to stop.

His hands rest against your legs that are still wrapped around his waist, sitting just below your knees and tracing patterns into your skin until he decides that he wants you even closer.

“C’mere” he mumbles, patting the decking beside him and you shuffle around so that you’re sat at his side, legs now dangling into the water next to his and his arm wraps around you, holding you to him.

His other hand lands on your thigh as you lean into him and rest your head against his shoulder, his once innocent touches now growing a little more risky and you can feel his mood shift as they become more deliberate. His expression remains innocent, but the gentle circles he was once tracing become firmer as he creeps his way higher up, getting dangerously close to the hem on your bikini bottoms and you struggle to ignore the wave of heat that rushes to your centre as he tickles along the inside of your thigh.

“Mason” you warn, though you don’t put up much of a fight as his hand moves and instead finds its way up to your waist, tugging you closer towards him until your legs are thrown over his and your body suddenly craves for more.

“They can’t see us down here, Y/N. We’re hidden” he mumbles, and you feel the sensible part of your brain slowly giving into him as he checks once more for any hesitation, connecting his lips to yours when he doesn’t find any.

He keeps one hand against your waist, tightening his grip and digging his fingertips into your skin as his other finds its way to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair and tilting your head slightly to give himself more control over the kiss. He tugs gently on your locks, your quiet gasp allowing him to slip his tongue between your lips.

You moan into his mouth, tasting the fruity cocktail that he’s been drinking on his tongue and feeling intoxicated as he steals every last breath from your lungs. You suddenly can’t get any closer to him, your hands everywhere as you scoot further into his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the firm muscles and lightly scratching your nails over his skin.

A deep sigh slips between his lips at the feeling of your hands against him, separating his lips from yours so that you can take a breath but your touch only encourages him to continue.

His hand drifts down your side, fingertips teasing over your hip and fiddling with the bows that hold your bikini bottoms together, threatening to dip under the fabric as he trails his kisses down your neck and to your shoulder, his beard scratching against your delicate skin and causing goosebumps to follow in his path.

“Mase,” you breath, getting lost in the feeling of his lips against your skin as he scatters a line of kisses alongside the strap of your top, but you’re quickly brought back to reality at the sound of giggling coming from the deck above you.

The realisation that one of his family members could come and find you at any given moment snaps you out of your Mason induced daze, and you rush to move away from him but don’t get far as he tightens his hold on your hip, not letting you go anywhere. You glance around, relieved to find that no one has followed you to this area of the boat yet, but that’s not to say that someone won’t eventually come looking for you.

“We shouldn’t” You tell Mason, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and gently trying to pry him away from you, but he doesn’t go down without a fight, groaning in protest and placing a few more kisses to your skin before eventually giving in and sitting back to look at you.

“This sucks” he pouts, resembling a child that just had their favourite toy taken away from them as he leans back against the decking, making sure to not break any physical contact as he moves his hand to instead rest against your thigh again.

You understand why he’s frustrated. The last few days that you’ve been away haven’t necessarily been easy, having to watch each other walk around in minimal clothing all day, and not being able to spend any alone time together besides the quick shower fuck yesterday morning, which definitely scratched the itch but has only left you both craving more.

“I know, Masey. But just think about next week” You hold his gaze, watching as he instantly perks up at the mention of your next trip together.

As much as you’re loving your time away with his family, you can’t help but look forward to your next getaway. After arriving back home from Mykonos in a few days time, you’ll be in Manchester for not even 48 hours before jetting back off to Portugal for another week in the sun. But you’ll be alone that time, a week of each others undisturbed company before you’re both thrown back into busy work and training schedules. And it’s safe to say that it can’t come soon enough, the both of you in desperate need of some long anticipated time alone.

“Can’t fucking wait” Leaning forward, he presses his lips to yours once, twice, and a third time just for good measure.

“C’mon” he mumbles, standing up and reaching out to take your hand, tricking you into thinking that you’re just heading back to the top deck to join his family again but you’re caught of guard when he suddenly pulls you into the water with him.

The water is a refreshing surprise as it surrounds you and you can only laugh as your head pokes back up above the surface, one of your hands still securely held by Mason’s but you’re sure to use the other to splash him as he resurfaces next to you. Your sudden playful mood attracts the attention of his nieces and nephew, all of them coming around to your side of the boat and jumping in to join you, the rest of his family following soon after.

You spend the last few hours of the afternoon making the most of your remaining time on the boat, soaking up the sun and enjoying your time with his family, all while looking forward everything that awaits you in Portugal.

———————

a/n: thank you so much for reading! feedback is appreciated as always 💖

[poppy-metal]

(i might’ve sent an ask similar to this so ignore that one if i have) dbf patrick telling you “youre never getting this dick” makes you cry so bad. so embarrassing. how dare he. he wants to fuck you just as bad. you stomp out, panties throughly wet.

he doesn’t hear from you for days, then a week. a week and a bit. his chest aches a little bit, but this is good. distant is what you need. this is what he wanted. in theory.

distant is good, until he realised your audacity knows no bounds, and this distance is the only thing making you brave enough to send him that video. distance is the only thing stopping him from putting you back in your place.

as soon as he gets the notification, he opens it, without thought. what if you’re in trouble again? his baser instinct is to help you, to protect you. but what he fails to notice is that you’ve attached a video. and that video is you, laid up in your bed at arts house. girlish posters line the walls, boy bands and twilight and high school musical, all phases he saw you go through in your adolescence. wrapped in your bubble gum pink sheets, there you lay. legs spread wide, feet dangling, panties off. your pussy. your tiny little pussy. so wet, so small, glinting and winking at him in the light. the whole thing would fit in his mouth. his cock would tear you apart. propped up on your elbows. smiling like the cat who got the fucking cream.

you sigh, staring into the camera, widening your legs. a tiny hand moves down, down your body. you’re wearing a tshirt, but you’re bare other than that. braless. fuck. with fingers half the size of patrick’s your spread your pussy lips, giving him a glimpse of your tiny tiny hole. he’s transfixed, furious and mesmerised.

“too bad you don’t want this,” you say softly,”i saved it for you. no one has ever touched me here.”

you withdraw your fingers, and your lips reclose with a wet click and a quiet gasp.

his cock is so hard at the sound of your voice. your face as you touch around your cunt. you’re not even playing with it and your eyebrows draw together. he could pull you apart fibre by fibre. undo you, reduce you to nothing.

“but you think you’re better than me right? you think i don’t deserve your cock?”

oh, he thinks you deserve something.

“i think i deserve it.”

your three middle fingers circle your clit. you bite your lip to stifle a moan that escapes anyway.

“i think that-“ you say through gritted teeth,” you like when i’m-“

you rub faster, mouth falling open in an “O”. you take in a high pitched breath, light and airy with the airiness of your head.

“-bad. think you want to punish this-“

you flush, embarrassed even to say the word,

“-pussy. you want my little pussy so bad. makes you hate me.”

drool pours from your cunt. you whimper and moan helplessly, like it hurts to feel so good. just with the rubbing of your little fingers.

“shouldn’t hate me. you should love me, patty. love my pussy. fuck.”

your head hung limp of your shoulder. eyes rolled. the noises from your pussy were obscene, and he could see the clenching of your already minuscule hole. you were close.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, patrick. patrick. patrick. patrick. fuck me. patrick please.”

you cry, cry as you cum. your legs shudder, and your whimpers roll from your mouth. but it’s over so fast. such a mediocre orgasm. nothing compared to what he could give you.

the video finishes with you breathing heavily as you get up, slide panties on and a very mini mini skirt. you pick up your phone.

“ok, ive got a date now. bye patrick! love ya!”

you pucker your lips and blow a kiss into the camera. the video ends there.

do u want your ass beat (yes) do u want him to pop over and punish you (yes) and he knows that. really, all you're doing is pissing him the fuck off. more and more. if there's one thing patricks hated about people, its when they treat him like he's fucking stupid. its obvious you still think you're in control - that you hold the reigns.

and, well. he does save the video. he does fuck his fist watching you play with that slick little pussy - fuck, he knew it'd be small and tight and fucking juicy. basically begging to be fucked -

but no. it wont go your way. its obvious to patrick now that hes going to fuck you - that body belongs to him. he can't pretend it doesn't anymore. but it'll be on his terms - not yours.

when patrick tells you to come over you're ecstatic - you think you've won - you've cracked him - you shave yourself in the shower - fucking everywhere. you lotion yourself up - you sneak out - making sure to check on art - he's asleep, on his stomach like he usually does. you feel a moment of guilt - not for what you want but because of what this would do to him if he found out. you'd always been a good girl in his eyes. and you didn't want to ruin that image - you just wish he didn't have such a savior complex.

when you knock on patricks door and he answers you grin - tight dress on - and he takes a moment to soak that in. looks you up and down. then he steps aside to let you in and you do. except you freeze - because why is your friend here?

"steph?"

but she doesn't answer you. she gives you a look like, im sorry, but other than that she doesn't look guilty at all. she's in nothing but a bra and panties.

you look at patrick - "what's going on?" a sick feeling curdles your stomach. "oh my god. did you fuck her?"

the room tilts. your hands start to shake. you know patrick fucks other women, but those women are so far removed from you - much older.

patrick walks around you. comes to stephs side and you can't believe you're watching him cup her cheek and her lean into it - "not yet." patrick says. and then he kisses her. their tongues clash and he moves his hands down her body, slips and hand down her panties.

you take a step back. patrick lets go of steph and finally looks at you. doesn't take his hand from better her legs. "i told you." he tells you, "i don't fuck bad girls - and your friend here -" you can tell the moment he sinks a finger inside her - the way she moans and trembles - "- is very, very good. you can leave -" he jerks his head to the door. you are rooted to the spot. "- or you can stay and watch. maybe learn a thing or two about what happens when you push me."

you want to scream. you want to cry. you want to throw a fit and claw your friends eyes out and never ever talk to her again. you want to threaten that you'll tell art but you know that wont do anything - he hasn't fucking touched you. you've thrown yourself at him and he hasn't done anything. you want to pull your hair out and you think this might be what finally breaks you what pushes you over the edge, what makes you fall out of love and hate patrick zweig and move on from your crush -

you stay and watch.

because you know what this is all the sudden. he wants you to hate him. he wants to hurt you in the worst way possible so you'll leave him alone. because hes hanging on by a thread.

it hurts. and you do hate him, but not enough to walk away.

patricks eyes dont leave yours as he fucks your friend. draws it out, but you notice how he makes her get on all fours, pushes into her from behind - and you think thats good. because when he fucks my pussy, he'll have to look me in the eye.

like he's doing now. and you aren't a quitter, so you pull up your dress. show him your body inch by inch - the one you'd prepped for him to take tonight. your bare cunt - your soft glowing skin - patrick groans when he sees it. grunts "fuck," and you know it was for you. not for steph.

you watch and you spread you lower yourself to the ground in front of them and you spread your legs - show him your pussy - in full view this time - not on video.

"i love how you fuck," you tell him. sliding a hand down your body. "i know you wanna hurt me - make me run away, but i want you too much. nothing you can do will make me not want you."

patrick glares at you. its like steph isn't even there. you slide your fingers through your wet slit and patrick cant look away - cant take his eyes off you - watches you sink those fingers inside and he - he - "spread it," he spits out before he can think. realizes he said that out loud, but fuck it. hes in it now. "spread those lips - show me that fucking pussy -"

you moan - making a V with your fingers and splitting apart your folds so your glistening cunt is in full view to him - pulsing and wet. "fucking hell." god, you're going to kill him. he stops rocking into steph and when she lifts her head he fists a hand in her hair. "lick her -"

he doesn't give her time to answer - and you've never really been into women - your whole world has consistented of two men - your daddy and your daddy - but you gasp when he shoves her face into your cunt. "oh-"

its like hes living through her. eating your cunt through your friend. he wanted to make you suffer. he'd wanted to see you cry and run so he could hate himself and have all this be over but you'd gone and fucked it like you always did. making him crazy. driving him wild.

"when i fuck you." because why deny it now? "I'm gonna fucking tear you apart, swear to god you're gonna beg me to stop. but I won't listen."

stephs tongue rolls around your clit - you forgot she's into women, too, has obviously done this before - sucks it into your mouth and you whine. rock into her face desperately and nod at patricks words. "yes -" you gasp - "want you too - want you to ruin me, daddy -"

"stick your tongue in her cunt," he slaps stephs ass. "get her fucking sloppy-"

god, steph is really good at this. you clench around her tongue as she wriggles it into you, moaning into your mound and making your pussy vibrate with the sound.

"dont fucking shave anymore." he pulls out of steph. fucking her isn't gonna get him off. never planned on finishing inside her, anyway. the next cunt he unloads inside will be your virgin pussy. "i want your pussy with hair on it not bald like a fucking baby." he fists himself hard - pushes stephs face harder into you - you nod helplessly and he grins - "im gonna get us a hotel. you're going to let me take you out and show you off like a little show pony and then im gonna take you upstairs. lay you down on a real nice comforter - and im gonna lick every fucking inch of that tight little body."

his balls are fucking swinging between his legs. you're humping your friends face and your friend is humping her own hand and hes so close to coming - so fucking close - he thinks about making steph lick further down. making her eat your ass too. but no. he wants his tongue to be the first on that hole.

"every fucking inch." he repeats. "that little asshole belongs to me, too."

"oh fuck - " you whine. "yes, daddy - i want it - "

"fucking taunting me with that jailbait pussy between your legs - I'll show you what's it's like to be fucked by a real man with a big cock -" he pumps hard, swift strokes that shlick shlick shlick up and down "- I'll make you fucking addicted to it."

you already are and you haven't even had it inside you yet. you cry out when steph tries to slip a finger inside you along with her tongue - patrick sees it and winds his fist in her hair again, "nu uh. just your tongue." he fucking rubs her face up and down the whole of your slit, motorboats her in it. her moans vibrate deep inside your pussy. all the way to your toes. patrick meets your eyes. and hes so big and broad and his other hand is fisting his hard flushed cock and you're so empty - you need more - more - more - he sees you ogling it and grips himself around his thick base, jostles his cock - "the first thing inside you is gonna be this dick - and i - fuck - i expect you to christen it with your blood when i pop that little cherry. mark it as yours. cause there's no going back after that."

your eyes roll back into your skull when you cum. hard, drenching stephs face in your juices as you explode all over her tongue plunging in and out, in and out. you dont know if she comes and you dont care because you're too busy staring starry eyed at patrick as he grunts and paints the floor below him with white streaks.

you roll over and lick it from the floor.

"jesus." patrick grunts.

"you guys are so fucked up." steph says from behind you.

whatever. shes the one that agreed to fuck an older man with you present, and then proceeded to tongue fuck your cunt like it held the water of life.

"get the fuck out, steph." you glare at her. "seriously before i come down from that orgasm you just gave me and claw your fucking eyes out."

you do still love steph. if anything because she doesn't seem offended to be kicked out. she'd always been the most laid back. this probably isn't the craziest thing shes done this week. definitely not her first threesome.

"i see where the daddy kink comes from."

"hes not my dad."

"you'd still fuck him if he was."

well. probably.

[gor3-hound]

SLY FOX // DUMB BUNNY - ZENIN CLAN

ft. fox!toji, naoya, naobito, jinichi and ogi x bunny!reader

a/n: thank uuuu to @sqiim and @kaitkatme for beta'ing !!! another commission for @nexysworld :333 coolest gal out there on god 💪 gangbangs are... hard to write but... think i cooked???? fb and rbs appreciated !!

cw: 18+ content, gang bang, mxmxmxmxmxf!reader, knotting, dubcon, power dynamics, ooc naobito?, double penetration, breeding, creampies galore !!, mating press, doggy, biting, very small blood mention, size difference-ish, cockwarming, the zenins aren't nice, misogyny

word count: 2.6k words

Being a servant in the Zen'in family was difficult. Being a rabbit among a den of foxes was another thing entirely. You could feel narrowed, judgmental eyes following your every movement. You could sense their gazes on you at every moment, even when you thought you were alone.

Some of them liked to play with you for sport - tugging on your floppy ears, baring their teeth at you to watch you tremble or sneaking up on you to watch you jump. It keeps you on edge, but more than anyone, Naobito fills you with a sense of dread.

It's his silence - the way his watchful eye scours the compound. He does not discipline his family for their mistreatment of you, but he does not engage in the behaviour himself. If anything, he seems wholly uninterested in you, addressing you only when he sees fit.

You're tense when he approaches, every muscle fibre pulled taut in your body. His gaze is locked on you, but his movements are slow. Languid. Like he enjoys watching you squirm as he approaches.

“Here, little rabbit.” He orders, voice firm and unwavering, but not cruel. Your ears twitch at the authority in his tone, and you're quick to walk towards him until you're right in front of him. He nods his head to the side, turning and walking away. A silent command for you to follow.

He's silent as he leads you to the clan meeting hall. There's a few faces you recognise here - the next most eligible heads of the Zen’in clan, along with its very own black sheep, Toji. Naobito orders you to strip, and you shakily comply, shaking slightly under the fox’s heavy gazes.

“You've all failed to produce any useful heirs to secure your place as the next head of the clan. Ogi has given us women, Toji - a bastard. My own son has not even produced a child, and as for you, Jinichi… I do not even wish to speak on the matter. You have somehow disappointed me more than your brother.”

Naobito kicks your trembling form forward, your body bare as you catch yourself before making contact with the floor. The wood is rough against your soft skin, your eyes flickering across the many faces of the Zen'in men staring down at you.

“A bunny. Not ideal, of course. But fertile enough I'm sure one of you will be able to fuck a useful heir into her by the end of today.”

The men are tense, gazing at each other for a few silent moments, as if eyeing up who gets first dibs. Ogi is the eldest, but seems thoroughly disinterested. Toji, although cocky, knows well enough that a fight will break out if he attempts to be the first to approach. The toss up is left between Naoya and Jinichi, who both look like they're about three seconds away from tearing each other apart.

Naoya steps forward first, which sets Jinichi off. He takes two large steps forward, his form dwarfing Naoya's as he squares up, determined to be the first to have you. Naoya's fur bristles, his tone conceited when he speaks up.

“I'm the rightful heir. It is my duty to breed her first.” He grunts, stepping in front of his cousin, glaring as he gazes up at the older man.

“You're nothing but a spoiled brat. I could tear you apart in seconds, little fox.” Jinichi growls, thick brows pulling together as he pushes Naoya to the side, baring his teeth at his cousin in frustration. He kneels, his hand coming down to smack your clit harshly before he forces two thick fingers into your cunt.

“Your son is too arrogant, uncle. You should teach him some respect.” He grunts, scissoring you open. You're much wetter than fox girls he's been with, slick gushing from you eagerly, streaming steadily down his hand to his wrist. “Bet a cock like that wouldn't even stretch out a tiny bunny girl like this, hmm?”

Naoya's tail bristles, a low growl forming in his throat as his lips curl back. “You watch your mouth old man, or I swear I'll-”

“Enough. Both of you. I'm sharing the girl as a gift to our clan - a means for you to produce heirs. Do not think I won't keep her to myself if you don't behave.” Naobito cuts in, his eyes narrowing as he gazes at the other Zen'in's. Ogi remains silent next to him, but his gaze is harsh and unwavering as he gazes at Naoya, making his disdain for his attitude abundantly clear.

Toji, who has been too busy watching his brother’s fingers splitting you open, scoffs at the eldest Zen’in. His eyes flick up to his uncle, and he cocks his head to the side. When he speaks, it's with barely restrained amusement. “You think you can keep up with a bunny at your age?”

Ogi speaks up for the first time then, his gaze narrowing in on Toji. “You should consider yourself lucky that a runt like you was even invited to join in on this.”

“Runt, huh? I'm bigger than you, ya old bastard.” He growls, ears pulling back as he straightens up, making himself appear bigger. You whimper as you gaze at the two men, but Jinichi doesn't stop stretching you out, leaving you mewling despite your discomfort.

Jinichi ignores their bickering in favour of pulling his fingers from your tight cunt, shedding his kimono and pulling his cock free. Your eyes widen as you get a lock at it, your chest heaving with nervous breaths.

“That's not… it's too big.” You squeak, eyes wide as he grips the back of your thighs, folding you in half effortlessly. In return, you get another harsh smack against your cunt, one that has you jolting with a whimper. He bares down on you, forcing his thick length into your tight hole, bottoming out with a low groan.

The stretch stings, making you whine and squirm against his body. His grip is unwavering, not allowing you to pull too far back from him. He doesn't grace you time to adjust as he presses your thighs to your chest, the weight of his body keeping you pinned. He sets a brutal pace, fat cock rutting into you mercilessly.

“I'm sick of waiting.” Naoya growls, his ears pulling back as he glares at his cousin. Jinichi bristles as he approaches, body growing rigid as the younger man approaches. “Let up for a second, huh? ‘M just gonna join ya. Fuckin’ brute.”

Jinichi scowls, but relents, pulling out of you long enough for Naoya to lie down, lifting you so your back is pressed against his chest. He sinks into you with a whine, tail swaying contentedly under him. The larger man returns, slowly pressing his length in along his cousin's with a grunt.

“Fuck… she's even tighter.” He practically purrs, continuing the brutal pace he set before. Naoya starts moving too, their cocks pistoning in and out in a rough rhythm that steals the air from your lungs.

Jinichi senses your discomfort, but the most he offers to soothe you is his tongue lapping at your skin, a soft growl rumbling in his chest. His head dips down to your chest, dark locks tickling your skin as he latches onto a nipple, sharp teeth grazing the fat of your breast. You mewl at the feeling, slick gushing from your cunt to aid in the movements of the cocks inside of you.

“So wet. Acting all shy, but your body knows what you're meant for.” Naoya coos, a condescending tone underlying his words. He sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck as he fucks into you, the sharp pain making you cry out. He loosens his jaw, lapping at the blood spilling from the bite. “A bunny bitch acting like she wasn't born to be bred.”

The other clan members watch the exchange, but Toji is most notably affected. His eyes are hooded as he stares at the way your hole stretches around his brother and cousin, eyes narrowed in on your slick cunt.

Jinichi's thrusts grow sloppily as he reaches his peak. He feels his knot swelling, and he pulls back from your breast and grits his teeth to surpass the urge to force it past your tight ring of muscle. He growls as he spills inside of you, filling him with your seed.

“Can't keep up, cousin?” Naoya teases, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. Jinichi snaps at him in warning, easing his softening cock out of you.

“I'll rip your throat out with my teeth, you insolent brat.” He sneers, stepping away from you as Naoya continues to pound into you. Naoya rolls his eyes, his expression still smug as he rolls the both of you over and yanks your hips up so he can fuck you properly.

“Presenting all pretty f’me.” He teases, draping his frame over yours as he ruts into you desperately. “Just like a good breedin’ bitch, hmm?”

You whine low in your throat, bunny ears flopping limply by your face as you claw at the ground, pussy already sore from being treated so roughly. You do your best to roll your hips back to meet his thrusts, but you're already tired and your movements are sloppy and disorganised.

“Gonna knot this bunny cunt.” He murmurs, brows furrowing as he fucks into your drippy cunt. His knot catches your entrance, and he forces it in with a hiss of pleasure, tail twitching behind him. You feel his cum filling you, joining his cousin's as he rides out his high. He sits back with a satisfied sigh, making you yelp as his knot tugs you back with him.

“Did ya have to knot her?” Toji growls, tail stiffening as he approaches. “Been waitin' long enough as it is.”

“You can wait longer.” Naoya huffs, stretching his legs out to get comfortable as he waits for his knot to deflate. The next few minutes are tense as Toji's gaze remains locked on his cousin, waiting impatiently for his turn.

As soon as Naoya's knot deflates enough for him to wriggle free, Toji steps forward. He's stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder, Ogi's face expressionless as he pulls him back.

“I'm not sharing with the runt.” Ogi says simply, stepping towards you as he frees his cock without bothering to disrobe. “And I'm certainly not letting his seed dirty my cock. He can wait.”

Toji lunges, clearly looking for a fight, but one firm look from the head of the clan has him stopping, seething as he steps back again to watch his uncle slide easily into your used cunt. You're already sore and tender, and you know you're not going to last long with the deep, slow strokes Ogi's delivering.

You whimper as you clench around him, cumming on his cock. Your eyes water, lash line gathering tears that threaten to fall down your face. Ogi doesn't speak, or so much as acknowledge you, using you for nothing more than his own pleasure. The overstimulating pleasure has your back arching, and you mewl as you squirt, release flooding his cock and coating his lower abdomen.

His face wrinkles in distaste, but he just continues rocking his hips against yours until his knot swells. He doesn't knot you - but he buries himself to the swollen base of his cock before cumming deep in you. He pulls back, putting his cock away before nodding once in the direction of his brother and leaving the room.

Toji steps forward, cock already aching and drooling as he approaches. He seems to soften at your fucked out, exhausted expression and twitching thighs, his features softening almost imperceptibly.

“Shhh, it's alright, little one.” He coos, voice low as he nuzzles a floppy ear so only you can hear it. He knows what it's like used and discarded by the Zen'in’s, albeit in an entirely different way. “Won't make ya take my knot. I'll be careful.”

He sheaths his cock into you slowly, guiding each inch carefully into your swollen cunt. His thumb rubs circles into your clit, hoping to give you pleasure as he chases his own. He stays still when he's buried into you fully, the head of his cock twitching as it presses firmly against your cervix. He licks at your ears gently, coaxing you to relax before he starts fucking into you.

You whine and keen under him, lips open in a silent gasp as he fucks into you. You can barely keep your eyes open, lids fluttering as you peer up at him.

“Keep your eyes open, bunny.” He purrs, tail swaying behind him. “Don't pass out on me just yet.”

You whine softly, but force your eyes open. He grabs your hips, manhandling you so he can pull you back to meet his thrusts, bullying himself into your cunt with low grunts. “So fuckin’ tight after bein’ stretched by so many cocks, lil bunny.”

The squelching sounds of your abused cunt fill the room with every shift of his hips, your moans and whines growing louder as your orgasm crashes through you once again, your walls tightening around Toji's cock. He growls at the feeling, thrusting shallowly before shooting hot ropes of white deep inside your trembling form. He stays buried inside of you for a few moments, nuzzling at your neck before pulling back, ruffling your hair between your ears.

Naobito gestures for everyone to leave once Toji redresses before he beckons your exhausted body towards him. You can't even walk straight, your body shaking with exertion as you approach him. Cum drips down your inner thighs, the sensation making you cringe.

He fishes his cock out - its hard and leaky, the tip flushed red. You whimper softly at the thought of being bred again, but he clicks his tongue to silence you. He hoists you onto his lap, ears twitching as he slowly slides you down on his length. He grunts as he bottoms out, nosing at your hair before his tongue darts out to run along the length of one of your ears.

“Shh, little bunny. Just keeping you plugged, hmm? Making sure one of those useless bastards gives our family an heir.” He coos, uncharacteristically soft. His tail sways gently, greying fur brushing the soft skin of your thigh.

“You're one of us now. Gonna be carrying Zen’in kits in you soon. I'll make sure you're looked after.” He murmurs, holding you close to his chest, large hands rubbing up and down your back.

He starts thrusting slowly, tongue coming out to lathe gently across your skin to soothe as he guides you up and down on his cock. He barely pulls out, only shifting you a few inches so it's more of a slow grind.

“You're going to take my knot, little one. Then you can relax, and I'll have the servants draw you a bath.” He murmurs against your skin, nosing at the crook of your shoulder. He's old, and his stamina wasn't what it used to be, so it's not long before he pops his knot in you.

He holds you close as he floods you with his cum, your belly feeling full from all the loads you'd taken. He reaches up to stroke one of your floppy ears, running his fingers gently along your soft fur.

“Sleep, little rabbit. I will personally see to arranging a chamber for you in the compound until we can find out who the father is.” He almost purrs, gently stroking your ears until you drift off.