#deaf in three corners

[justablah56]

oh my FUCKING shit , I am about to absolutely fucking *punt* this group of boys in my sign language class holy fucking hell .

[teapartyprincess4two]

Hi

Can i ask for a johnnie guilbert x reader where the reader is a friend of tara who is a very private person, so she gets know in the channel as "baby" and people start to notice that johnnie gets shy and is always looking somewhere off camera (to her)

A LOTTTT of pinning by johnnie (like so much it hurts)

And maybe at the end he confesses she kisses him and a lil sum-sum 😏

Thank uuuuu 😘

Babygirl- J. Guilbert

pairing: shy!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warning: use of y/n, slight cursing, slow build up, Jake and Tara are dating in this, suggestive content but NO smut, very long

inspiration: request^^, Deaf, Mute, and Blind Baking, Becoming Tara Yummy for a Day

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

—

Most people wish they had the fame you had, they spend their entire life reaching for an unattainable dream that fell in your lap by coincidence. They wish for the fancy cars, the expensive clothes, and especially to be so famous they’re stopped by fans on the street for a picture.

Tara, your best friend, was one of those people. She spent her childhood and teenage years fangirling over pop stars and YouTubers, hoping that one day people would be fangirling over her too. She worked hard to earn the platform she has today, bringing you along with her to the top. But you never asked for any of this.

At first her newfound fame didn’t affect you, you were just a recurring background character in her videos and would sometimes, but very rarely, have a main role in them. Although you tried remaining in the background, the internet is quick to get attached to shy, background characters and before you knew it the fans were begging for more content with you.

So now you and Tara are a well known YouTube duo and you’re featured in almost every one of her videos, most of the time opting to participate from behind the camera. You especially remain behind the scenes when Jake and Johnnie are involved, specifically because you’re never able to hide your crush on Johnnie and would probably die from embarrassment if the fans caught on.

Like today for example, Jake and Johnnie are over at your house filming. They’re filming a video they’ve filmed many times before, they’re turning Tara emo. The three of them are piled onto the couch, discussing topic after topic as Johnnie packs on black eyeshadow on Tara’s eyes.

“Ow, Johnnie. You’re hurting me!” she squeals as Johnnie accidentally pokes her in the eye with the bristles of the brush. You can’t help but giggle from behind the camera, watching as Johnnie becomes flustered. “Sorry! I only ever do my own makeup, okay?” he apologizes, not becoming any more gentle with his motions. Johnnie glances at you quickly, a smile forming on his face because of your laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Y/n? You’re next,” Jake chimes in, following his statement with a boisterous laugh. Your face flushes slightly as you reply with a laugh, “no I’d prefer not to be tortured.” Johnnie laughs at this, sending you a fake pout, “you hate my look that much?”

Your face becomes even more red, if that was even possible. You didn’t mean the comment like that. Tara, whose face is being attacked with makeup, chimes in, “No, Y/n is too babygirl for this.”

“Oh God, you’re making me sound so high maintenance,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at Tara’s comment. “It’s true though!” she exclaims, turning to face you just as Johnnie begins applying eyeliner, causing a black streak to run from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

“Guys, Y/n is probably the most high maintenance out of the four of us. She gets a manicure exactly every two weeks, she gets her hair redyed like once a month, her room is NEVER dirty. She almost never ever has dirty laundry, AND she irons her clothes. Who irons their clothes?” Tara exclaims, flailing her arms in the air dramatically.

“So yes, she’s babygirl,” Tara’s talking to the camera now, completely oblivious to her appearance. You scrunch your name at the nickname, the internet tended to latch onto things like that, “First of all, you look ridiculous right now. And secondly, don’t call me that. I don’t need to be known as ‘babygirl’ for the rest of my life,” you reply, laughing as Johnnie tries to fix his mistake but fails.

Jake, who’s sitting on the couch next to Johnnie, straightens up and leans forward to look at Tara. He immediately laughs at the sight, the black eyeliner smudged all over her face. “You’re just mad that it has a nice ring to it,” Tara retorts, choosing to ignore the mess Johnnie made. You scoff, glad that the camera isn’t on you to catch how your eyes train on Johnnie.

“Okay, but doesn’t it sound cute?” Tara proposes the question to the boys, waiting expectantly for them to answer. Jake was always quick to agree with her, it was a trait she trained him to have over the years of their relationship, “yeah, it’s pretty cute.” Tara nods her head in triumph, turning to Johnnie for his response.

Johnnie doesn’t know what to say, he agrees that the nickname is cute, but he’s afraid he’ll say too much and expose his crush for you. “Johnnie?” Tara says, widening her eyes as she awaits his response.

“What was the nickname again?” Johnnie asks, trying to act casual. But if the cameras zoomed in they’d easily catch how his hands tremble as he fixes Tara’s eyeliner. “Babygirl?” he reiterates, attempting to sound confused and oblivious. Tara nods her head, causing Johnnie to mess up once again, but he’s too busy trying to keep his composure to care.

Coming from him the nickname doesn’t sound so bad, it actually makes you want to take back everything you just said. “Babygirl is cute,” he murmurs, sending you a small glance before quickly turning back towards Tara. You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and the smile that won’t go away no matter how hard you try.

“Enough with the babygirl talk,” you groan, but you really loved hearing him say it.

—

From that moment on, you were known as babygirl within the fandom. You couldn’t escape the nickname no matter how hard you tried, and the fans loved teasing you about it. Whether it be through edits, Instagram comments, or tweets; the fans were always calling you the nickname.

Johnnie, Jake and Tara are currently filming yet another video, despite your protests. The three of them are standing behind the kitchen counter, with either tape on their mouths, earmuffs on, or blindfolded. They were trying to bake a cake, something they struggled to do even without the inhibiting factors, so all they were really doing was making a big mess.

They understand your hesitance with being on camera, so they never force you to make any special appearances, but you still loved to watch. You sit behind the counter, just out of view of the camera, watching in amusement as the three interact.

Johnnie keeps getting distracted by you, fumbling and stuttering his way through the intro. You watch as Johnnie struggles to find the supplies needed for the video, searching through every cabinet in the kitchen. “Every time Johnnie says he’s ready, he’s never ready,” Jake comments, adjusting the black beanie on his head. “Where the fuck did I put it? No, Jake where did you put it?” Johnnie replies, scavenging for the baking supplies.

“They’re in the pantry,” you comment, walking over to Johnnie briefly and guiding him towards the pantry. Johnnie smiles at you, grateful that there’s at least one sane person here to help him. The interaction was caught on camera, but you were too distracted to realize.

“Thanks babygirl,” Tara exclaims, bopping her head to the music blasting through her headphones. You roll your eyes, helping Johnnie take everything out of the grocery bags and sprawling them out onto the counter. Once everything is in order, Johnnie’s mouth is quickly covered with a sticker, but he’s happy he isn’t blindfolded because he can keep sneaking glances at you.

The entire situation was chaotic, none of them had any clue how to communicate properly and they had less knowledge on how to bake a cake. Jake’s arms were stretched forward as he tried finding his way through the kitchen, Tara’s loud singing making it hard for them to concentrate on one task alone.

Tara, who wore the headphones, was more focused on singing than the cake. You watch them intently, unable to stop yourself from laughing, “you need to whisk the cake!” Tara, who can’t hear a single thing you’re saying, repeats your statement causing you to burst into laughter.

Johnnie pulls out a plastic butter knife, deeming it appropriate for the task. “Get the beater!” Tara yells, following it by belting out song lyrics. Johnnie has no idea what Tara is talking about, so he sends you a pleading look. If there’s anyone here who’s going to help him finish this cake, it’s you.

“The whisk, get the whisk!” you exclaim, trying to talk over Tara’s singing as best as possible.

“What’s going on?!” Jake asks, one of his flailing arms slapping both Johnnie and Tara. Johnnie’s laughs are muffled by the sticker as he holds the whisk out for Jake, guiding him to the bowl.

“Babygirl?!” Tara is being so loud, her voice a good three octaves higher than normal. “Stop yelling!” you exclaim, but she ignores you and changes the song, continuing to belt out the lyrics.

“Y/n, we need your help,” Jake comments, stirring the bowl so aggressively that it was twirling. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he continues, lifting the whisk up and blindly taking a lick.

“JAKE DON’T LICK IT!” Tara yells.

Johnnie’s laughter and shocked scream are muffled, his face scrunched up as he laughs uncontrollably, and you can’t look away. You wish you weren’t so shy, so that way you’d be able to join them in this fun activity without feeling anxious.

“This cake is going to be so bad,” you chuckle, catching Johnnie’s attention. His eyes linger on you for a little too long, a moment the fans were definitely going to clip and edit.

“What did you say?! Did you say my singing is bad?!” Tara is still yelling, following each and every statement with loud singing.

Many dirty dishes and a messy kitchen later, the cake is finally done. The oven rings throughout the kitchen, and Jake and Tara send Johnnie to fish the hot pan out. The cake didn’t look too bad, but considering you watched them make it, you weren’t too excited to actually try it.

“You have to wait until it cools to frost it!” Tara exclaims, the headphones causing her volume to be more than pleasant. Johnnie can’t respond because of the sticker, and he doesn’t want to wait for it to cool, so he continues haphazardly spreading the icing over the camera. Jake, on the other hand, is in his own world.

“That actually looks disgusting. It’s raw,” you gasp, watching as Johnnie lifts the spatula to reveal an uncooked, watery mess. “It’s undercooked!” Tara yells, her inability to hear you causing her to repeat everything you say in different words.

Johnnie’s muffled laughter is infectious, earning a string of laughter from you. “Let’s just eat it,” Jake suggests, facing the complete opposite direction of the group. The beanie on his head inhibits him from seeing the state of the cake, but even if he could see it, he would probably still ask for a bite.

“Wait let me help,” you get up from your seat and walk behind the countertop, immediately searching for something to serve the cake in. “This is gonna have to do it,” you hand Johnnie three plastic cups. He scoops up the raw batter, the liquid cake jiggling in the cup and running down the sides, immediately coating his fingers in frosting and batter.

“We’re gonna get salmonella,” Tara is staring at the goopy mess in shock, how had they managed to mess up such a simple recipe?

“I wanna see… I think we should take this off,” Jake yanks his beanie off, a fit of laughter attacking him as soon as he sees the state of the cake. Tara was subconsciously poking at it, creating a big hole in the center. Johnnie’s hands were full of chocolate frosting, and he held them up in exasperation as he waited for someone to remove the sticker from his mouth.

“Here lemme help you,” you murmur, gentle hands removing the sticker. Your touch lingers a little too long, but he doesn’t complain. If he had it his way, you’d have your arms around his neck and his lips would be on yours.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he whispers in return, loving how easily the nickname riled you up. You hated how much you loved hearing him say it.

“This is actually not that bad!” Tara’s boisterous voice breaks you two from the intimate moment, forcing you to reenter reality. “Try it,” Jake suggests, going back for a second scoop.

Johnnie is hesitant, but he grabs the cup and puts a spoonful of the raw cake batter in his mouth. His face contorts in disgust, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Here let me try,” you take the cup from him, using his spoon to take your own bite.

As soon as the cake hits your tongue, you’re gagging. “Oh wow this is horrible,” you say, fighting the urge to throw up. They’re all laughing at your reaction, Jake pulling a long hair from his mouth in the process. “I love this hair, adds flavor.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up,” the hair Jake held between his fingers was only making the situation worse for you.

“See, she’s so babygirl,” Tara laughs, joking about the situation even if she found it equally as gross.

—

It seemed like your friends were always filming because every time the four of you hung out there always seemed to be a camera lurking not too far. Like today for example, Tara gathered everyone for a casual hangout, but once you arrived she explained that everyone was going to be living like her for the day. At first, you declined her invitation, making a lame excuse about not feeling good. But she begged and begged for you to be in the video, and before you knew it you were an integral part of it.

“Okay, since you guys are becoming me for the day, it’s only fitting that you dress the part. So, put on these track suits,” Tara says as she hands you, Jake, and Johnnie each a pink track suit. You’re trying to hide from the camera as much as possible, but Tara keeps pulling you back in every time you almost wander away.

The three of you shimmy into the outfits, immediately feeling the Tara Yummy essence wash over you.

“This is sexy,” Jake comments, admiring his figure as the sweatpants hang loosely from his hips. “I’m serving cunt,” Johnnie says, joining Jake in admiring himself. Their tattoos peeked through, contrasting the pink outfits entirely.

You emerge from the hallway seconds later, the track suit providing you with a newfound confidence, “I feel so stupid, but I also kinda feel like that bitch.” You stand still, allowing the camera to pan to you before hitting a dramatic pose. You turn around to show the camera the backside of the suit, the word babygirl written in curly white letters across your ass. “Slay, babygirl, slay,” Tara chimes in, strutting over to you and hitting the same pose.

“Let’s please not start with the babygirl jokes,” you groan jokingly, adjusting the sweatpants that kept riding up, you were starting to get a wedge. But you knew you weren’t going to escape the babygirl comments today, especially not with it written across your backside. It was like a label that you were forced to wear for the rest of the day, and the fans would surely seize the opportunity and run with it. To top it all off, the four of you were so well color coordinated that you looked like a 90’s girl group, ready to perform on stage at any moment.

“This is fun, but I still don’t understand why I’m being forced to do this,” you say, staring at Tara blankly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replies cheerily, offering you a big smile and booping your nose. It was hard to stay mad at her. She walks away, joining Jake as they engage in conversation.

“And you’re babygirl,” Johnnie teases, coming up from behind you unexpectedly, immediately causing a blush to form on your face. He loved watching you get flustered over the nickname. He laughs at your reactions, relishing every bit of it.

“Alright, first things first, time to eat. Mama’s hungry,” Tara says, ignoring yours and Johnnie’s interaction before facing the camera and leading everyone to the car. Jake and Tara are far ahead, leaving you and Johnnie to trail behind.

“It’s gonna be leaves,” Johnnie whispers to you, earning a laugh in response. He loved making you laugh. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet we end up at Health Nut?” you ask, settling the bet with a firm handshake between you and Johnnie. His hand holds a firm grip on yours, almost like he’s hesitant to let go as he says goofily, “$2, take it or leave it.”

As predicted, the four of you end up at Tara’s favorite restaurant; Health Nut. It’s no one else’s restaurant of choice, but you’re living as Tara for the day so it doesn’t matter what the rest of you want. You’ve been here with Tara enough to be familiar with the menu, so you order a simple salad and drink before moving to the side and allowing Johnnie to order. Once he’s finished ordering, he pays for your meals before letting Jake and Tara order.

Johnnie is playing it up for the cameras, trying to embarrass himself with his actions before the pink track suit does it for him. He’s sitting on a toddler chair and you stand next to him, choosing him as your comfort zone.

Because you always opted to remain behind the scenes, most of the viewers weren’t completely aware of yours and Johnnie’s dynamic. You two were always clinging to each other in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations, making quiet jokes to make the other laugh. You both also had a huge crush on each other, which further served as a gravitational pull.

“Order for… babygirl?” the employee calls out, a hint of confusion in their voice as they read the name on the order. This immediately causes you to laugh out loud. “You did not do that,” you whisper shout at Johnnie, who held his hands up in feigned defense as he tries not to burst into laughter. You awkwardly grab the food, both of youwalking over to Tara and Jake’s table.

“Did they just call you babygirl?” Tara asks as soon as you’re sitting down. “Yes dude, fucking Johnnie told them that was my name,” you laugh, hiding your red face in your hands. They call out Tara’s name and she dismisses herself briefly to pick up the food.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims from the restaurant’s front door, bag and drink in hand as she pushes the door open and walks outside. “Oh, I guess Tara Yummy eats in the car,” Jake says sarcastically, the three of you following Tara to the car.

Once you’re in the car, you and Johnnie sit in the backseat while Jake and Tara occupy the front. “I wanted to eat in there, but you guys are so embarrassing,” Tara says, handing Jake his food.

She doesn’t give any of you enough time to respond, “you guys are already pretty embarrassing, but the pink track suits make us all look genuinely crazy.” She’s obnoxiously shaking her salad from the front seat, causing the entire car to rock.

“Damn, don’t gotta put your whole pussy into it,” Jake laughs, earning a sly remark from Tara. Soon, they’re lost in a conversation of their own, leaving you and Johnnie to talk quietly in the back seat.

“Why do you keep pushing this ‘babygirl agenda,’ sir?” You ask, both in true curiosity and to make light of the nickname. He blushes, mindlessly picking at the salad in front of him.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy now,” you tease, piling up a good bite on your fork. He smiles at you awkwardly, preparing to admit something embarrassing.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he admits with a shrug, taking a big bite of his food. Your eyes blow open in shock, this whole time you thought he was teasing you, but now it turns out he thinks it’s a cute nickname? “Don’t make fun of me,” Johnnie pleads in defense through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting that,” you respond, trying not to be too loud. You couldn’t help it though, your giggles were soon filling the backseat. There was something about the confession that gave you hope that maybe you and Johnnie could be more than just friends. But you don’t want to get your hopes up, ir could easily all be for the video. You’re about to say something crazy and bold, but you’re cut off by Tara.

“Are you two done flirting? Cause I’m in the mood for coffee.” Leave it to her to ruin a sweet moment.

—

The day is finally over and the four of you are now wearing pajamas, reminiscing on the day’s events. Tara and Jake leave once the video is over, leaving you and Johnnie to lay on the large couch. The room is silent, but it’s not awkward, you’re both just catching up and joking.

“I was serious earlier, by the way,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling above. “Yeah?” you say in a teasing tone, rolling over on your side so you’re facing him.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah. If I’m being honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, I mean the fans definitely have.” You mindlessly play with the strings of your robe, subconsciously scooting closer to him.

“So that’s why you keep calling me babygirl?”

“Mmm yeah, mostly. I think it sounds cute,” he smiles down at you, your figure just slightly further down the couch. You feel a surge of confidence wash over you, something you don’t usually feel as a shy person, and straddle his lap.

He looks at you in shock, both arms limp at his sides. “Say it,” you whisper, moving your face dangerously closer to his. You use your hands to grab his, placing them on your waist. He feels excited, nervous, and shocked all at the same time, was this really happening?

You grind your hips down onto him, hoping to elicit a response from him. “Babygirl,” he whimpers, the sudden friction sending a shiver up his spine that has his hips bucking. You hum in response, finally inching close enough to connect your lips to his.

You’re in a heated make out session, completely obvious to the world around you. Johnnie’s hands are roaming your body, your hips are grinding down onto him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair. You kiss from his lips down to his neck, sucking and biting the delicious skin until you leave a hickey.

The situation is about to escalate, but Jake and Tara interrupt before it can. They saunter in loudly, both you and Johnnie jumping off of each other in shock.

“About damn time!” Jake says, applauding you both for finally make a move on each other. “Get it babygirl!” Tara laughs, joining Jake in his obnoxious round of applause.

“So annoying,” you groan, throwing a pillow at them and shooing them out. Once they’re out of the room, you and Johnnie share a sheepish look.

“You’re never escaping that nickname,” he chuckles, silently pulling you back on top of him. “That’s okay. If you’re the one saying it, I don’t mind,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Okay, babygirl.”

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Such a good request, I LUV being challenged with these specific requests!!! Hope I did it justice bby, I rewrote this like 5 times & had a different storyline each time. Also, I mentioned the famous hickey (💀💀) and I changed it from “baby” to “babygirl” because he mentioned that he’s “so babygirl” on Trisha’s podcast.

anyways, enjoy hunny bunches. Luv uuuuu

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

PT 2: WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. yamato endo, chika takiishi, akihiko nirei, taiga tsugeura, & choji tomiyama x f!reader

PART 1: kaji, togame, umemiya, sakura, suo, hiragi, kiryu, & sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 1.7K. ohh i had sm fun w endo’s hehe <3 individual warnings are below, but f!reader: referred to as she / her.

YAMATO ENDO. ‘my girl,’ ‘angel’ & ‘pretty thing’

“Hey,” Endo’s voice cuts through the thick air like a blade, heavy arm coming to rudely rest on one of their shoulders. “What do you think you’re doing scaring her into a corner like that? Tryna get at my girl?”

On a normal day, you’d roll your eyes at the teasing tone he always uses around you— but today, it brings you nothing but relief, fresh tears threatening to spill as you choke out his name.

His presence alone is enough to silence the group of guys who had just been talking over you moments prior, the three men in front stiffening at the sight of him alone. They can hardly believe this.

You really weren’t bluffing when you said Endo would kick their asses— he’s frightening.

They exchange knowing looks when they hear you sniffle, hands coming to wipe at the tears that had begun streaming down your cheeks. They were so fucked.

“N-no! Of course not.” One of them breaks the silence.

“We had no idea she was your girl— ” another one stammers, hands coming up defensively.

“Didn’t know? You serious?”

Endo’s voice comes out sharp, eyes narrowing as he puts more weight onto his arm, grinning at the way the man’s knees start to tremble at the pressure. “My angel here doesn’t usually look at me like that, y’know,” he whispers, jutting a thumb in your direction. “So what’d you do to put that terrified look on her face?”

“Sorry— we’re really sorry.” One of them starts to apologize profusely, but your boyfriend was clearly not in his usual good mood today, and he grabs his face roughly, ignoring the way his cries of pain come out muffled against his palm.

“Asked you a question, didn’t I?”

The veins along his forearm bulge when his grip tightens, and you hear a painful crack, the man’s hands coming to desperately scratch and claw at Endo’s arms. “She likes it when i’m nice, so I’ll give you a second chance to quit spewing some fucking nonsense and answer me, yeah?”

The two men behind him exchange glances before stumbling over their words, desperately coming up with any excuse that came to their minds. One of them accidentally slips out the truth. A “we told her we’d make a mess of that pretty face if she kept turning us down” and the group falls completely silent.

“I-it’s okay!” You stammer, hands come to tug at his the back of your boyfriend’s jacket.

Unfortunately for them, your words fall on deaf ears. He lets go of the one he’s holding by the face, not sparing him a second glance as he drops to the floor with a loud thud.

“Okay, i think i get it now,” Endo says through a genuine laugh, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s not facing you, but you think you can picture the expression on his face pretty well. “E-Endo-”

“Fifteen.” He speaks slowly. “I’ll meet you in front of that corner store in fifteen, pretty thing.”

CHIKA TAKIISHI.

Oh— so that’s why you’re late today.

Takiishi watches from a distance as you jut your thumb towards your phone screen, your usual chirpy voice laced with anger now as you repeat yourself with a frustrated huff. “I said have a boyfriend.. see? His contact is right here. Can you leave me alone now?”

“And I said I didn’t give a fuck about your little boyfriend.” The man laughs loudly when your lips wrinkle in disgust. “I prefer the ones with an attitude.”

“What do you think he’s gonna do if he finds out, huh?” He reaches out to get a feel of your hair. “Think he can touch me?”

“Takiishi’s gonna knock your lights out cold,” you spit, slapping his hand away when it comes too close to your face. That seemed to be enough to set him off, his eyebrow twitching in anger as he takes a step towards you, looming over your figure with quick breaths.

“Don’t piss me off— I was nice when I said you’d have a good time if you came with me.”

“I’d rather eat shit-” you seethe, angry expression contorting when he grabs firmly around your wrist— “That hurts!” It makes you wince, your phone hitting the concrete with a thud.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The coldness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“Ah- Takiishi—”

The man jerks his head around at the name, hand still gripping your wrist as he sizes him up. His first thought is that he’s alright. He notices the muscle definition right away, but he doesn’t look particularly heavy. There is, however, a sudden coldness in the air that he can’t quite grasp, and you look awfully relieved now that he’s here.

“So you’re the boyfriend she’s been talking about?” He says with a laugh. “You gonna let her come with me?”

“Move. Don’t waste our time.”

“Huh? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking t—”

“I said move.”

Your mind can hardly comprehend the speed, mind just barely able to register the second Takiishi’s foot connects with the man's chest, sending him crashing to the ground beside you in an instant.

He’s beside you the next second, fingers coming to fix the stray pieces of hair beside your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no! I’m okay.”

He’s monotone, as usual, but the hint of concern makes your heart flutter anyways. He lets you latch yourself onto his bicep, lets you tighten your grip around his arm as you fume about the audacity that guy had, and most importantly, he makes sure you call him every time you’re about to leave your home alone.

TAIGA TSUGEURA. someone touches around your lower back

“My bench has blown up since i switched to bulldog grip,” Tsugeura rambles, “and my squat too. The ‘tripod foot’ cue really helps with even foot pressure.”

You nod along, always interested when he tells you about things he loves, but your attention shifts when you feel a hand press against your lower back. It’s not Taiga’s touch. It’s too unfamiliar. Too invasive. Your eyes fill with panic when you feel the hand start to roam downwards, and you can barely stammer out Tsugeura’s name, voice trembling too much for him to hear.

“I should also get new knee sleeves eventually.” He continues, and you curse his obliviousness. “The cue helps, but I would get way more bounce if I had a pair of Inzers instead of the flimsy ones I’m using now.”

“I always get stuck at the bottom of my squat, so they would help. But i know pause squats help with that, so I could also implement those—”

Your grip tightens on Tsugeura’s shirt, knuckles turning white as you try your hardest to convey your situation. He pauses mid-sentence, finally picking up on the expression you’re giving him.

“Whoa— you okay?” His voice is filled with concern when he peers down at you.

His gaze trails down, and that’s when he notices it.

You gasp at the speed of it all. In an instant, the man is slammed into the wall behind you, loud thud echoing throughout the entire train. “No way.” His voice is loud, and you hear the bystanders gasping and whispering, their attention shifting to the scene.

“That’s messed up, man.” Tsugeura’s voice comes out low, a serious glare on his face that you’ve never seen on him. The vice grip he has around the man’s wrist tightens, enough to have him yelping in pain and stammer out an apology.

“Turn yourself in at the next stop, yeah?”

CHOJI TOMIYAMA.

“Tell me— who was that?” Choji asks, latching himself around your middle to wrap you in a tight embrace, and you glance at the unconscious man sprawled on the ground beside you.

“You knocked him out cold without knowing anything?” You ask incredulously, arms coming to return his embrace regardless, and your lips curl into a small smile when he melts into your touch.

“Mhm. He was bothering you, right?” His voice comes out cheerful, but there’s a small trace of worry in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

He hates to admit it, but his body had completely moved on his own. It’s a bad habit he’s developed since meeting you, because he finds himself worrying about you— desperately wanting to put his strength to use and protect you from everything he saw as ‘bad.’ It was only after he had jump kicked the man grabbing at your arm that he had considered the slim possibility that maybe he wasn’t bothering you in the first place.

“He was.”

He lets out an exhale he didn’t know he was holding. “Then….it was okay that I kicked him in the face, right?”

He relaxes a bit more when you nod, his usual smile returning to his lips. “Thank you for saving me, Choji.”your voice comes out soft and soothing, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the praise.

AKIHIKO NIREI.

“Ah— where are we going?!” You yelp as you stumble forward, barely able to keep up as Nirei pulls you by the wrist.

The two of you were at the mall, shopping for new summer clothes when he had suddenly called you to him by name— dragging you and your bags along with him in an instant. Before you could even realize what had happened, you’re in an elevator, watching in disbelief as he fumbles to frantically click the ‘close’ button, the doors finally sliding shut after the tenth click.

“You’re safe.” He sighs. “That’s a relief.”

“You scared the shit outta me.” you fold your arms across your chest and give him a glare. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Nirei chuckles lightly. “There was a guy who kept looking at you. He’s bad news.”

“How can you tell?”

You feel more at ease when his fingers come to interlace with yours again, and you feel him squeeze. “I guess um…” his other hand scratches the back of his head. “I have this sort of danger sense whenever it comes to you.”

“Something like that.”

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗕𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗗, 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗙 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗨𝗧𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N participates in the Baking Blind, Deaf and Mute video, but things don't go as planned.

WARNING: Begin of a panic attack, anxiety.

REQUESTED?: Yes, @ecliphttlunar

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Alright guys, it's been almost a year since the last time we filmed one of these, I think..." Nick began, his body appearing in the camera frame, stopping next to Matt.

"Yeah, and today we have a special guest-" Matt was interrupted by Nick, who swallowed all the rest of his energy drink, stumbling back as he shook his head hard, feeling the burn go down his throat.

"Like she doesn't appear in almost every video." Chris ignored Nick's reaction, momentarily pointing to his girlfriend next to him.

A laugh escaped his throat, followed by a dramatic sound of pain as he received a slap from Y/N as a response, who rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms and looking at the camera.

"They love me more than they love you guys at this point." She murmured, pointing at the camera with her chin, blowing an air kiss towards it.

"Anyways!" Nick shouted, casting a scolding glance from the corner of his eye at Chris and Y/N, focusing his eyes on the lens. "Today we're going to do the baking blind, deaf and mute challenge, and we have a guest with us, Y/N!" He raised his left hand, pointing it towards the girl momentarily, who smiled big and waved.

"Exactly, and since there will be four of us, instead of three, we will repeat one position. Y/N will be blind with Matt, while I will be mute and Nick will be deaf." Chris explained, wrapping his left arm around his girl's shoulder, pulling her close and massaging her biceps slightly, sealing his lips over her head momentarily.

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"Okay, today we're going to cook a carrot cake with chocolate frosting since it's our guest's favorite." Nick spoke, his voice coming out louder than normal since his ears were covered by the headphones where music was coming out at full volume.

Y/N nodded, resting her hands on the table, unable to see exactly where she was, her eyes already covered by Chris's red bandana.

"Y/N doesn't eat ready cake mixture, so we're going to make it from scratch!" Matt added, his back resting on the counter next to the stove.

His arms were crossed, and his head was turned in the direction he thought the camera was.

"Let's begin!"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Can someone preheat the oven, please?" Y/N asked, her head turned to the side where she heard footsteps.

A tired sigh escaped her nose when she received no response. The girl moved slowly, using her raised arms for support, feeling wherever she went.

Sudden hands on her waist made her jump in fright, relief coursing through her veins as she quickly recognized Chris's touch. The boy holds her tightly, guiding her slowly through the kitchen, until they reach the stove.

Chris lightly held her wrist, guiding her hand to the button to turn on the oven, waiting for her to do so before letting go of her hand, moving away slightly.

"What is happening? Are you still here?" Matt's voice cut through the air, his figure doing a 360° turn as he tried to understand where the others were.

"In here, Matt." Y/N replied as she walked back to the table, feeling around until she found the ingredients already separated.

The girl reached for the carrots, feeling them to check if they were peeled. They weren't.

"Chris, can you peel it for me, please?" The girl asked loudly, lifting her chin in the air so her voice could echo better.

Footsteps approached, and soon, the carrots were taken from her hands, the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board filling her ears.

The sound of screams filled the kitchen, Nick singing the songs he was listening to as loud as possible, probably dancing around the space, checking every now and then if the others were making the recipe correctly, despite Y/N and Chris knowing it by heart.

"Nick, can you shut up?" Matt asked loudly, turning in the direction where his brother's voice came from.

Nick noticed Matt trying to talk to him, looking back while furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"What?" He screamed.

Y/N, who was blindly measuring the correct amount of oil using a measuring cup, jumped in place in fright by the sudden loud sound. Her hand holding the oil shook slightly from the movement, spilling some of the contents onto her other hand and the table.

Her shoulders slumped, but she just kept going, knowing that there was nothing she could do at that moment other than fulfill her task.

After measuring the oil and flour as correctly as possible, the girl felt the table on her right side in search of the cut carrots, no longer feeling Chris' presence there.

Her hands ran across the wooden surface, grabbing the first thing she found in the belief that it was the vegetables, but instead, it was a knife.

A wince escaped her lips, feeling a sharp burning sensation spread from her right index finger to her hand. She had cut herself.

"Can I have a paper towel?" Y/N asked in a low tone, her voice coming out choppy from the pain she felt. "Hey, somebody, a paper towel. Please?"

No one answered her, Matt and Nick's arguing voices only growing louder and louder.

The girl took a deep breath, wiping her finger on her t-shirt, feeling pain and disgust at the same time at the thought of cleaning a wound on a fabric that wasn't as clean as something specific for hygiene.

Her attention returned to the things in front of herself. Y/N replayed her last steps in her mind, making sure she did everything right.

With that, her hand rescued the fuê that she knew was on her left side and began to mix all the ingredients in the ceramic bowl carefully, despite the pain in her hand.

She felt her senses were more heightened than normal, perhaps because her eyes were covered, which made her hear the different steps of each of the triplets, their voices, and in which direction they were going.

But at that moment, her attention was so focused on the mixture that she forgot to pay attention to the three boys.

"Matt, I'm not listening to anything you're saying!" Nick shouted, his tone full of sarcasm.

"I'm just asking you to stop-"

"Don't touch me, Chris!"

"Nick, stop doing that-"

"Stop talking, I can't hear you-"

The impact came suddenly against Y/N's back, causing her to hit her belly on the corner of the table and, consequently, pushing the mixture forward due to the impact. She was certain that everything had been spilled onto the wooden surface when she heard a loud gasp coming from Matt.

Y/N's lips trembled before the tears even came. She felt her eyes burning behind her bandana while her cheeks and chest ached with anguish.

"Y/N?" Chris's voice came out softly, his hands quickly ripping the bandana from his mouth, approaching his girl, ignoring the guilty looks from Nick and Matt as they both removed their respective bandana and headphones.

Y/N didn't respond, resting her hands on the table and lowering her head, feeling the fabric over her eyes getting damp little by little.

"Baby?" Chris whispered, slowly untying the knot on the bandana behind her head, being careful not to pull out any hair. The last thing he wanted was to cause pain on his girlfriend.

He felt his heart sink at the sight of her eyes closed tightly and her eyelashes damp against her pink cheeks. His own eyes quickly caught her chest rising and falling faster than normal in agitation.

Chris moved closer to her, positioning his hands on both of his girl's hips, lightly squeezing the covered skin in an attempt to ground her.

"Hey, hey, pretty girl, it's okay. Deep breaths, hm?" The brunette whispered close to her ear, casting a quick look behind his shoulder at his brothers, silently asking them to move away. "That's right, just like that. You got it, my love."

Y/N sucked in air through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it through her mouth.

After repeating the process a few times, she could finally feel her heart calm down and the anguish slowly disappear. Y/N opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times to remove the remnants of tears.

"There's my pretty girl. Are you with me, baby?" Chris smiled kindly, his eyes shining as he looked at Y/N, waiting for her answer.

"Uhum, I am good. Thank you, baby." Her voice came out still a whisper, but in a healthier tone. "Can we continue? I really want to-"

"Wait, is that blood? Baby, are you hurt?" Chris noticed the reddish tone on her right hand, interrupting her sentence and holding her hand delicately with both of his, analyzing the small cut.

"Yeah, with that knife. It was an accident, but it's not hurting anymore." The girl tried to assure him, stroking his hands with her thumb slowly.

"Can we at least clean it? Before we continue." He asked, his tone full of hope while his eyes run through her face, trying to find any trace of pain.

"Okay." Y/N nodded, whispering with a small smile decorating her face.

The boy guided her to the sink, turning on the tap to cold water and slowly bringing her hand closer to the jet, letting the water hit the injured skin slowly, so that it didn't make her feel any more pain.

A wince escaped Y/N's throat when she felt the contact, suppressing the urge to pull her hand back.

"I know, baby. I know, I'm sorry." Chris whispered, his lips pressed against the side of her head. His free hand made small circles on her back, trying to reflect calm to her.

After a few seconds, Chris finally turned off the tap again, drying his own hand before rescuing a few sheets of paper towels. He wiped Y/N's sensitive skin slowly, wrapping her finger around a clean sheet.

"All done, honey."

"Thank you." She smiled, sealing her lips on his jaw slightly. "Can we bake now?" She asked innocently, looking at Matt and Nick, who were still watching them with guilty eyes.

Chris let out a low chuckle at her comment, waving his brothers closer again.

"Are you good, girl?" Nick asked as he approached Y/N, stroking her left shoulder lightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I am good, Nick. I promise." She smiled big at her best friend, hugging him sideways and laying her head on his right shoulder for a few seconds before stepping away again.

"Okay then, let's bake a cake!" Matt smiled at the camera, grabbing the nearest roll of paper towels, ready to clean up the mess before they could start baking again.

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extra - comments:

"omg I would die on Y/N's place, all this was so overwhelming 😭"

"chris is such a good boyfriend and you can see it in here, the way he helps her at the beginning? bf goals 😫😫😫"

"chris and Y/N are so beautiful together 🥺"

"the way chris was super worried about Y/N so he ripped off his bandana too quickly to help her 😔😔😔"

"I want what they have so bad"

"nick and matt feeling guilty and then worrying about her was so cute!!"

"them baking it from the beginning again only because Y/N wanted to eat that cake is so thoughtful 😭"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[thegnomelord]

Simon Ghost Riley

CW: SFW, GN reader

You're a tactile thing.

You're not satisfied with the occasional thickly veiled words of endearment Simon throws your way like scraps off his plate. You shouldn't be expected to be satisfied by the rare phantom brush of his gloved fingers against yours or his hand on your nape when you two are hidden in the far back corner of the changing room. You shouldn't be expected to have a partner who can never commit to the smallest crumb of tenderness (bloody fool), ready to shrug off your hand and brush past you at the barest creak outside the door, dozens of well rehearsed denials worming through his tongue; there's nothing between you two at all.

You're a tactile thing. Or perhaps you just lack that 'in' before the 'human' part of you.

He knows you want more — deserve more. Simon sees how your eyes wander to the passing couples while you two only pretend to be one for a mission, your fingers twitching with the restrained urge to replicate them. And when you do touch him to keep up the act, you don't have to force yourself to do it. Whether it is holding his hand like the couple passing you, or kissing him as tenderly as the two girls kiss on the corner, everything comes so naturally to you that it leaves him torn. One part wants to reach out, grasp you like the lifeline that you are. The other wants to pull away even more so you wizen up and leave him for someone better.

But you never do.

He can see it every time he looks into your eyes, every time you see him off to another mission and every time you greet him with a steady shoulder to hold his exhausted body up — the care. The affection. The need to hold. To kiss. To spell out with your fingers across his skin what otherwise falls on deaf ears.

You could do it so easily too; he has so many scars, he's sure your clever mind could find meaningful shapes in the static of pain etched into his skin. Shit, the half dead nerves in his skin tingle just from the fantasy of your tough, wondering if your fingertips would trace the upside down 'L' curving under his peck, the 'O' left by the meat hook, the shallow 'V' at the corner of his lip where the Glasgow smile starts, the scratchy 'E's all across his back made up of flogging scars.

You're a tactile thing. And you make Simon crave to be one too.

You make him earn for more than a quick fuck — that's the closest you two ever get to a real connection, bloody fervent and raw just like him. Simon wishes he could call it something else, but crowning that desperate clawing for release as 'making love' leaves him feeling sick to his stomach. There's no love in the act — not from him — just a frantic rutting of hips and a bruising hold, eyes shut and biting into the meat of your shoulder to chase away any softness you might try to bring in.

Ironic when it's his tongue that burns with three painfully simple words: I love you.

The inevitable release feels like like a punishment, like he's back in that dingy cell, orgasm torn out of him like Prometheus's liver. It makes his teeth dig deeper until warm blood fills his mouth and fizzles out the words he wants to say. He disentangles from you the moment he can feel his limbs again, putting only a few inches of space between you two but the empty area created feels as deep and wide as a canyon.

He lays there next to you, mind a low buzz of static. His own flesh doesn't know what it wants. One part wishes to pull you close and hold you tight until he grows moss, to remember what it's like to be held without it coming with dozens of strings attached. The other desperately claws to get away before yours becomes the next jaw he has to use to bash his way out of yet another coffin.

He can't bring himself to do either.

He lays like a statue next to you. A minute passes. Then two.

He can feel your eyes on his chest, your gaze burns his skin as you watch the slow rise and fall. The clock on the wall ticks along the many moments he takes to decide what to do, what action will pull him out of stagnation while your heat is right there next to him. He wonders, briefly, if this was Adam's true temptation, the fruit just a formality at best.

It's by the five minute mark that he thinks he's tricked you into thinking he's asleep, his theory confirmed when your fingers experimentally brush his bicep. You always become a little more touchy when you think he's asleep, when he doesn't have to prove to bygone ghosts that he's emotionless.

He's practiced this many times before with spare pillows and your clothes arranged in his best facsimile of you, your lingering smell on the fabric keeping the thoughts of 'this is stupid' and 'you're pathetic' from becoming too loud. But suddenly trying to put it into action has his pulse skyrocketing.

He breathes in deep like he's tired to try and calm his nerves. You retract your fingers like his skin is iron hot, afraid of 'waking' him, and he mourns the loss. He mumbles some slurred words he hopes you'll take as sleep talking, muscles tensing before he rolls over like a sleeping bear. He tries to make it as believable as he can, but his main priority is draping as much of himself over you as possible .

His first attempt is better than expected. Honestly it's perfect. His front almost perfectly aligned with yours, skin to skin so there's nothing to hide yet his masked head still ends up the crook of your shoulder. You two are chest to chest. He remembers why he doesn't do this when you both can feel his heart beating far too clearly.

He prays you can't tell how his heart beats for you and you alone.

You stay stock still under him, waiting, waiting, waiting, and when he shows no sign's of 'waking up' you relax under him. Your chest shakes with a shaky breath, you never believed you'd get this far, and ever so slowly your fingers curl around his hand that had so perfectly ended up over yours. He struggles not to smile when you squeeze his hand, just a little pressure in an attempt to see how far you can push without cutting this dream short.

The sweat on your body feels cool against his skin and it leaves him shivering. It gets you to carefully pull the sheets up over you two before slowly wrapping your arm around his firm waist, fingers experimentally trailing up and down the length of his spine. It's so hard to keep his breathing normal when you press your thumb into a tangled knot of muscle near his pelvis, the one that had been bothering him for a while now. He can't help the way his back arches under the tender care of your fingers, breath stuttering as he tangles his fingers between your own so neither one can pull away and squeezes your hand, biting his balaclava in an attempt to keep himself silent.

He thinks you're aware of his deceit, you hate to be with how you lazily seek out each little painful knot along his spine, caressing each vertebra when you pass it, fingers reverently tracing his scars without an ounce of pity or disgust. But you don't draw attention to it either, face angled to look straight at the peeling paint on the ceiling so you don't somehow meet his gaze and ruin this for the both of you.

His body feels like kinetic sand and his mind is filled with low tv static, so he doesn't think when he nuzzles his nose into your neck. It's a small and timid move, easy to miss or misconstrue as just movement in his 'sleep', but to him it feels like a massive leap in. . . some kind of direction. He doesn't want to think about it now, can't think about it when the smell of you curls so nicely in his nose; like a drug he wouldn't mind getting addicted to.

He feels you move your head enough to press your lips to his temple, the heat of your skin palpable through the fabric. He shudders, eyes shut tight like he's a little kid again, sharp tears burning his eyes when you whisper in his ear how you love him, as you touch and caress his battered body to show you love him, as you kiss his temple so tenderly it hurts.

God, Simon has never wanted to do something as much as he wants to return your affection now. Even the worms and maggots crawling beneath his fingertips urge him to do it. . . but he just can't.

He's not ready for that yet, it feels too fast, too soon, his chest feels so jam-packed with feathers that his ribs will shatter if he even tries to open his mouth. So for the moment he lets himself enjoy the comfort of your hold, the press of your lips against his head, the slow glide of your fingers and the easy happy beating of your heart.

You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) but for this single moment in time he feels alive.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Saviour and His Saved

It had been thirteen months and three weeks since Harry had found, and saved, Malfoy from a dark, icy corner in the crooked streets of Knockturn Alley.

For thirteen months, Malfoy had not stepped foot outside of Harry's cottage. He'd spent his time sleeping, ignoring Harry, reading his way through Harry's modest book-collection, making sullen conversation with Harry, and teaching himself to cook.

It hadn't been a bad thirteen months, Harry thought. He ate a lot better now. Malfoy too. The sour, skinny git had actually turned out to be a pretty good cook and baker.

Harry couldn't complain about his life. He left that to Ron, who still bemoaned the fact that Harry had brought home a stray Malfoy and kept him and even occasionally bought him a new book or a new jumper. Harry didn't mind. It was more than worth it to see Malfoy's thin, dull face brighten.

After months, Malfoy had begun going out on walks by himself every evening. The first time he'd gone, it was after yet another shouting match with Harry and to Harry's utter shock he'd stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind himself.

He'd been sure Malfoy wouldn't return and had spent the whole evening with his stomach churning with something awful, thinking about going back to a life without that grumpy fuck.

But then, just as the sun had set, Malfoy scurried in through the small, arched front gate, his cloak held closed around himself.

Harry planted himself before the front door, fists clenched, and prepared to yell some more, this time about Malfoy just leaving him. Then, Malfoy burst in, looking around wildly, and had proceeded to produce a baby bunny from under his cloak.

"What," said Harry.

"We have to save it!" Malfoy shouted, as if he was about to sacrifice his own life or something.

They bathed and fed it. Harry firecalled Hermione to ask her about raising baby bunnies. Malfoy named it Buttercup. That was three weeks ago.

Harry now sat with Buttercup the bunny on a bundled up blanket next to him on the sofa, a mournful, old, and partially deaf bloodhound that Malfoy had met on his way back from the shops and brought home sitting by his feet, and a cat with one eye missing curled up on a cushion on the windowsill. The bloodhound, Malfoy had named Wilson, and Harry had the uncomfortable, nagging suspicion that Malfoy had actually stolen some careless sod's old dog with the firm belief that it was an underfed stray. The one-eyed cat, Malfoy had permitted Harry to name, and had immediately regretted it when Harry had named him Mad-Eye.

Harry now saw Malfoy appear at the gate and pass through it inside, his gait as hurried as ever, as if permanently late to be somewhere. Then Malfoy let himself in, saw Harry sitting and staring at him from the sofa, and turned away towards the stairs, his cloak bundled around himself.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry at once.

Malfoy scowled. "To take a piss. Merlin."

"What's that?" Harry asked suspiciously, getting to his feet.

"What's what?!" Malfoy snapped, still not fully emerging from under his cloak.

"What do you have there?" Harry pressed, walking up to him and plucking at his cloak.

Malfoy took a step back, his cheeks pink. "Nothing. What do you mean?!"

"What's under there this time, Malfoy?" Harry asked wearily. "Not another rabbit. The dog keeps trying to eat the first one."

"Wilson's not going to eat Buttercup, don't be an idiot," Malfoy said, impatient and rude as ever.

"What do you have?" Harry said loudly, tugging at Malfoy's cloak more forcefully.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, jerking farther away from Harry, when there was a tiny, very shrill mew.

Malfoy froze, eyes huge in his face. Harry's mouth fell open and he tugged, yet again, at Malfoy's cloak.

It fell away to reveal an extremely small, very dirty white kitten held carefully in Malfoy's bony hands. It was shivering uncontrollably, and continuously emitted small, pitiful meeps.

"You want me to leave it outside to die?!" Malfoy burst out before Harry could even say anything. "You want it to die?!"

"No, but--"

"Well, you make me take it away and it's going to die, Potter."

"Malfoy, I'm not--"

"It needs a home, and your stupid house is so big, and we can save it before it dies."

"Can you stop saying "die"?!" Harry said exasperatedly.

"If you make me take it back, I'm going with it," Malfoy said, jutting his pointy chin out at Harry.

That made Harry grin - because Malfoy was threatening to leave with the sort of confidence that one has when they know they would never be allowed to go.

And that made Harry's tummy flutter happily for some reason.

"Well, in that case, I'd better let you keep it," he said solemnly. "What would I do without you, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's face, already tinged pink, now turned scarlet. Shoulders rounding inwards a bit, Malfoy looked down at the raggedy kitten before sticking his nose up in the air.

"You love it already, Potter," he said loftily. "You love everything you save."

Then, as he processed what he'd just said, Malfoy's face turned so hot that he looked faint for a second.

Then he hurried away into the kitchen, cloak billowing behind him, calling out over his shoulder,

"Clean towels and tic medicine, if you please, Potter."

Grinning, Harry went upstairs obediently. He had a kitten to save and a whole lot more to love.

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Four

One | Two | Three

It has been a hot minute since I updated Good Vibrations hfjdksl thanks everyone for being patient with me, I just couldn't get this part written the way I wanted to for the loooongest time

There's a meme at the very end for anyone who sticks around!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

------

Of all the ways for Eddie's free period to go, getting cornered in the boy's bathroom by Robin Buckley was pretty damn low on the list. It's not even Robin's presence in the boy's bathroom that's throwing him off; it's the way her arms are crossed and she's glaring at Eddie like he's just bragged about kicking her puppy down the street.

Eddie pauses just inside the stall, holding the door open as the toilet struggles to flush behind him. A few seconds pass before Eddie forces himself to walk over to the sinks and wash his hands. "Buckley," he says, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We need to talk, Munson," Robin says, her eyes narrowing as Eddie shuts off the faucet, grabs a few paper towels, and dries his hands. "What's your game?"

"D&D, mostly," Eddie replies, dropping the paper towels in the trash and giving Robin his full attention. He notes, briefly, that she's locked the door to the bathroom, ensuring nobody is walking in on them.

"With Steve, asshole."

Oh.

Eddie pauses, shoves his hands into his pockets, and tilts his head at her. "Still not sure what you mean," he says. He's starting to get an inkling, though.

Robin frowns, seeming to argue with herself before shoving her hands into her hair to push it out of her face. She just leaves it even frizzier and messier as she takes a deep breath. "Do you think Steve is just, like, your entertainment of the week?" she asks, placing her hands on her hips as she levels that same glare from before at him.

"What? Shit, no, of course, not," Eddie says, sliding back a step at the implication. "What the fuck, Buckley?"

She grits her teeth, takes a deep breath, and marches up to Eddie. "Listen, Munson. I know you. I know all about your little Munson Doctrine. I agreed with it once. And because of that, I know you might be thinking of getting to know all about how former King Steve is a...a...a deaf idiot so you can tell the whole fucking world about it," she hisses. "And I'm here to cut that shit off before it even starts. So, if that's your angle, Munson, I suggest you waltz your flat ass out of Steve's life before I bury you in the football field."

There's a lot to unpack there, and Eddie is going to start opening suitcases soon, but first he can't help saying, "My ass isn't flat, Buckley." Robin raises an eyebrow at him and pointedly looks in the mirror. Eddie doesn't follow her gaze, deciding he'd like to spare himself that tragedy.

When she looks back, Eddie clears his throat. "Besides, that's not...that isn't what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?"

Eddie looks away, squirming slightly under her gaze. If this were anyone else, if this were someone who hadn't endured the most awkward seven minutes of his life with him, Eddie wouldn't admit a thing. But because it's Robin, because he knows she'll understand even if she doesn't agree, he finds himself blurting, "I think he's cute!"

"Oh? Oh! Oooohhhh."

He can see Robin going on a whole journey over the course of one word repeated three times, and Eddie almost immediately regrets admitting anything. "You can't tell him," Eddie says, moving forward without thinking and grabbing Robin's shoulders. "I'm serious, Buckley, you can't tell Steve."

She blinks, studying his expression for a moment before humming softly. "What do you want me to do? Lie? I tell Steve everything. He'll know if I'm not telling him something," she says.

"Just say it's not your secret to tell! Because it isn't! It very much is not your secret to be sharing around."

Robin huffs and shrugs Eddie's hands off her shoulders. She leans against the sink, head tilted. "So," she says, her tone implying they're changing the subject now, "when did this little crush of yours start?"

"What do you care?"

"If I'm going to help you, Munson, I need to know."

"You're gonna help me?"

Robin grins at him. "This is my entertainment of the week."

Eddie huffs and looks away, pacing a few times from one end of the bathroom to the other before finally stopping. "Okay," he says, more psyching himself up than anything else. "Steve has always been, you know, hot. It made me so fucking angry when I realized in sophomore year since he was a jock and all. But now...now he's...more. And I'm burning up, man, I've gotta know everything. What's his music collection look like? Do the kids know he's deaf? How does he interact with people when he can't hear them? Is he comfortable closing his eyes when he kisses? Does he feel everything more because he can't hear? Wou--"

"Okay, I'm stopping you there," Robin says, her face twisted in disgust as she levels a judgmental look at Eddie. "I don't want to hear your questions about Steve and kissing or whatever else your dirty little brain is thinking of."

"You asked."

"And now I'm telling you to stop," Robin replies. She runs her fingers through her hair again, frowning slightly. "Okay, I think the most important thing here is etiquette."

"Etiquette? What, am I too rough for Steve's delicate sensibilities?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you'd like to avoid offending him the way you did the last time you spoke."

Okay. Fair. Eddie grimaces at the reminder, the image of Steve's frown and the sound of his closed-off voice forcing themselves to the front of his mind. His shoulders slump and he nods. "Yeah, I would," he says.

Robin nods once, pushes herself off the sink, and places her hands on her hips. "Let's start with some basics," she says, taking a deep breath, and Eddie finds himself wondering if he's about to get overwhelmed by these basics. "Don't talk when Steve isn't looking at you. Don't have anything in or covering your mouth when you speak. Talk a little slower and make sure you enunciate, but if you talk slow like Steve is stupid, I will punch you. If Steve asks you to repeat something, repeat it word-for-word, no matter how many times he asks. If someone addresses Steve and he doesn't notice, give him a subtle nudge. Never sneak up on Steve when he's alone. Even if it means more walking or whatever, move to a spot where he'll notice you approaching. Be expressive when you speak. Steve can't hear things like tone, so he doesn't always know when something is a joke or sarcastic. And never, ever, call Steve or anything about him bullshit."

"That last one...," Eddie says, trailing off as he frowns slightly.

"Is the most important. I'm serious, Munson."

"Okay," Eddie says, nodding once and figuring he'll leave it at that.

"Oh, and ask Steve to teach you sign language. It'll give you an excuse to see each other more often."

-----

Robin has been acting weird since she started her shift, and Steve barely manages to wait until he's 95% sure the store is empty to turn around and ask, "What's wrong?"

Her hands falter, nearly dropping the tape she's busy rewinding. She catches herself, though, and looks at Steve. "What do you mean?"

"You're not telling me something. You tell me everything. What's wrong?"

She hesitates, looking away and biting her bottom lip before sighing and looking back. "I learned a secret today, so it's not mine to tell."

"Oh," Steve says, his shoulders relaxing some. "I thought you were hiding something actually important from me."

He doesn't hear her scoff, but he sees the way her head jerks and her eyes roll when she does. "Why would I bother hiding anything from you, dingus?"

Before Steve can answer, Robin stiffens slightly as she looks over Steve's shoulder. He braces himself for the customer interaction he's about to endure, slaps on a fake smile, and turns around. "Welcome to Family Video. How ca--Eddie?" His smile softens into something genuine at seeing Eddie on the other side of the counter. "Hey, man, what's up?"

Eddie flashes a smile in return, glancing at Robin over Steve's shoulder before focusing back on him. "Hey. Just, uh, kinda had a favor to ask you," he says.

Several possibilities run through Steve's mind, all of them related to the kids, since he can't think of any other reason for Eddie to need a favor from him. "Oh," Steve says, frowning slightly in confusion. "What's the favor."

Instead of answering right away, Eddie shifts awkwardly. He looks away, tugging on a few strands of his hair like he's nervous. He starts to use them to cover his mouth, making Steve dread his inevitable request for Eddie to repeat himself, when he stops. Eddie literally freezes, his fingers twitching before he drops the strands of hair and places his hands on the counter like he needs to keep them in sight.

He takes a deep breath, and Steve is starting to get really concerned now. "Hey, Eddie, whatever it is, just ask. I won't get, like, angry or anything," he says, hoping that makes things easier.

"No, I know you won't," Eddie says, huffing softly before nodding once, more to himself than anything else. "I was, uh, thinking. I read once that sign language is, like, a thing. So, if you teach me some sign language, I'll write you a song that's all noise and vibrations."

Steve doesn't get it all at first, concentrating on Eddie's mouth and getting distracted halfway through by the thought of dragging his thumb across Eddie's bottom lip. "Could you repeat that?" he asks, steeling himself to actually pay attention this time.

Eddie doesn't complain. He just nods and repeats himself. Steve got more of it, enough to know what Eddie is asking for, but he finds himself pausing when he meets Eddie's eyes again. There's no annoyance or frustration at being asked to repeat himself. All Steve can see is patience and nervousness. Without thinking, he asks again, "Sorry, one more time please?"

And Eddie says everything again. He repeats himself word-for-word, still lacking any negative reaction to saying the same thing three times. Steve feels something warm settle behind his ribs, and he nervously licks his lips, catching the way Eddie glances down to follow the motion. He shoves his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists so he doesn't do something stupid like grab Eddie's hand. "One more time," Steve says, the words feeling breathy and soft as they brush past his lips, and he hopes he wasn't too quiet.

Eddie blinks, tilting his head slightly and glancing over Steve's shoulder again. Steve hasn't forgotten about Robin being behind him, but he figures he can just play it off as fucking with Eddie at this point. Eddie doesn't complain or ask if Steve is serious, though. He just...repeats himself, and Steve suddenly knows that Eddie would keep repeating himself until Steve got tired of asking.

"Thanks," Steve says, deciding to spare them both from continuing the loop. "I got it that time. What do you want to learn sign for?"

"A D&D campaign. Thinking of using it in the plot."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I could teach you. Are you doing anything on Sunday?"

"Nope. Totally free. Nothing planned at all."

Steve can't help a slight grin, and he tells himself it's just because he's excited by the prospect of Eddie writing a whole song catered to how he experiences music. "Cool. Come by my place around noon."

Eddie nods once, exhaling like he's forgotten to breathe the entire time they were talking. His hands tap against the counter, drawing Steve's attention downward, and he suddenly wonders what Eddie's rings feel like. Steve forces himself to look back up before that thought can go too far.

"Will do," Eddie says once Steve is looking at him again. He flashes a smile and adds, "See you then, sweetheart."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves, waving over his shoulder like Steve isn't trying to figure out if he read his words correctly. He watches Eddie leave, waiting for the door to close behind him before whirling around to find Robin still rewinding tapes like nothing happened. "Did he call me sweetheart?" Steve asks, needing to know if he's misunderstanding.

Robin looks up, eyebrows raised. "Don't know, dingus. I wasn't listening."

Steve barks out a laugh. "You're always listening," he points out.

She grins at him, her expression screaming trouble and that she knows something he doesn't. "Well, not that time," she replies, her grin widening as she adds, "But if I was, I'd say he did, yeah."

"He did," Steve murmurs, looking away from Robin and letting her confirmation sink in.

----------

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

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The meme for those who stuck around:

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 | Javier Pena x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | this is my own entry for the summer lovin' challenge, somehow torturing myself further by writing a fic amongst all my other wips and helping organize this challenge. there's sweaty javi p and office sex, that's all you need to know.

content warning | heavy smut, teasing upon teasing upon teasing, lots of mentions of heat/sweat, perfect use of ice in a situation like this, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, public-ish sex

word count — 5k

You curse quietly over your second paper cut of the day, nursing your pointer finger between your lips and silently reprimanding yourself for agreeing to help Steve—he was good at begging, you could give him that, and a hell of a sweet talker when he wanted to be. He always wore you down, a promise of coffee every day for a week on him, or lunch the following day, anything to sweeten the deal. This time it was neither.

“I rescheduled twice already,” He’s pointed out the reasons on his fingers, extending them out as he numbers them and using his finger to add emphasis as he pressed down on them as he went, “we finally have someone to watch Olivia for us this evening, and you know, you won’t even be alone—Pena’s staying late.”

He wiggled his three fingers like it was the best deal you’ve ever been offered, a smile growing on his face as he attempted to pass over the file that you took with reluctance, blowing out a puff of air and clutching it to your chest, arms crossed over the manila folder as you glance at your dainty watch—four in the afternoon. Not bad. Not great, either. You’ve stayed later—given your commute is only about five minutes. You tended to pick up the slack, for everyone, but mostly those boys. You weren’t sure how it ended up this way, but even Carillo acknowledged it. 

You did grunt work, small and miniscule things in the lives of two DEA agents who were out in the field hunting a notorious cartel leader every day—but you, you were dealing with papercuts and carpal tunnel, it wasn’t nearly as comparable.

And Javier Pena made sure to remind you every chance he had.

You pluck at the group of files labeled La Quica and El Limon, a hefty collection of data that has been compiled for the past several months and felt never ending—you were nearing the point of understanding every piece of information in this room back to front, knowing far too much about the cartel than you originally intended. It was terrifying; even seeing the look on either of the men’s faces when they returned back from a hard day of busts and undercover work.

And, maybe Javier just figured you didn’t care or wouldn’t be able to comprehend half of what was stored away in these files—but he sure wasn’t quiet about it.

It’s been around an hour now, tearing through the unorganized mess that the file room had become.

Mumbling the names under your breath as you drag your finger over the sticky note and kneeling down until your practically on all fours, digging through a box on the floor with your head tucked and oblivious to Javier as he rounds the corner to the secluded room, heavy footsteps falling on deaf ears, too entranced in the task to notice him.

He clears his throat with distinction and your head snaps up, looking clearly disturbed and annoyed—Javier offers a superficial smile and points a finger at the pile on the floor, his shoulder leaned against one of the tall shelves holding boxes upon boxes of crucial information.

Your eyebrows raise in expectation, head shaking slightly at him as you urge him to speak and get on with whatever comment he was dying to make as he continued to stare down, licking his lips briefly before they finally part and—

“Those the files we’ve been asking for?”

That Steve has been asking for—Not Javier, never Javier. He’s too macho and mighty for paperwork and sitting at a desk all day.

“It is part of them,” You say with emphasis, “I still have an entire section to go through. Steve asked me to pull everything we have on those two.”

“Well, everyone’s leaving—and I know where most of the shit is. I got it, you can head out.”

You seethe, jaw clenched and your eyebrow furrows as you stand, a pile of strewn papers in your arms.

“You know, instead of going through Steve to have me fetch the stuff you need—I don’t know, you could just man up and ask me directly.”

He has no idea what you’re talking about.

Except, he does.

He’s shoved off work to Steve who was enough of a pushover for his friend and partner, to pick it up when he had time, but this time it had landed on a busy day, a busy weekend, there just wasn’t enough time for him to handle it. 

“La Quica, El Limon—Carillo was talking to you about them this morning. What’s got you so tied up that you couldn’t handle it yourself?” You ask accusatory, back turned to him as you walk toward the table in the center of the room.

“We’ve got leads to check out, muñequita.” 

Out of your wheelhouse. Yeah—Okay, that explains it.

You roll your eyes at the nickname and drop the stack with a distinct thunk before moving past him, narrowly avoiding his broad shoulders as you walk past him, through the half-open door as you grab for one of the styrofoam cups on the water dispenser before spooning the ice into it and filling it with water, sipping with a distinct look of disdain as you eye Javier up and down, seeing that he’s followed you over, half in the doorway and half out.

“If you’re going to stand there the least you could do is help me,” You tell him, “that way we can both get out of here faster and not have to spend any more time together than we need to.”

“It’ll be faster if I do it myself,” He tells you, a metaphorical shoo-ing away as he nods toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, “I know this room like the back of my hand.”

“Have you been in here lately? It’s a mess. No one ever puts anything back in the right spot.” 

Javier’s got his signature pout on, looking downtrodden and pathetic behind his thick mustache perched on his upper lip, the constant look of being unimpressed by everything.

“I’m not leaving, Javier. You’re welcome to help, stay late, whatever—but I’ve been in this room, in this heat for an hour already and you’re not about to swoop in and snatch the credit for something you couldn’t be bothered doing yourself in the first place, alright?”

Javier looks surprised at that, not as much by the bite in your tone but the lack of snide comment, not calling him an asshole or a prick and storming off. Again, you brush past him with your drink in hand and take your seat, feeling the thin layer of sweat covering your body—it wasn’t that unbearable, but another hour and you would be a hell of a lot more crankier.

“Fine—” You respond, eyes tracking elsewhere as he moves form his place against the open door, only catching the lingering shadow of the door as it closed until it was far too late, “fuck, Javi! The—”

A loud click and Javier’s reaction time, given his ability to pull out a gun and have it propped at the ready in half a second, is far too slow. He turns, seeing the now closed door and turns back to you.

“Door,” You say, voice falling flat.

Javier backtracks and heads for the door, hoping and praying this was one of the days it wouldn’t lock—it was a tricky thing. Only working half of the time. Luckily, any other time it was during the day, surrounded by people who could help. But, now—it’s the two of you and no one else.

If you were pissed at Javier before, you were fuming now.

He jiggles the doorknob. Nothing. Fist pounding against the door. Nothing.

A quick shout out to anyone. Anything. Hoping someone would still be near.

Nothing. Not a sound.

“We’re stuck,” You sneer at him, “—sit down or that jiggling is going to drive me insane.”

He kicks the door for good measure, hoping by some miracle it might actually pop open.

You huff out an exhausted laugh under your breath and spread your hands out over the files, sorting out the important information and pictures from the notes and extra files that weren’t really needed. Javier approaches slowly and you take a sip of the water, thankful that you were at least able to reward yourself with that before you ended up in this mess.

Javier takes a look at his own watch and clicked his tongue before resigning to the fact that things weren’t going to go his way, dancing his fingers along the edge of the table as he took a seat, fingertips pressed into the surface as he settled, watching you casually under the flickering overhead light.

A few minutes slowly turn into several, quiet aside from the occasional shuffling of paper or sips of your water and you find that when no one else is around, Javier isn’t a total asshole. There’s no harsh quip or snide comment being lobbed your way but you can also tell that he’s just as frustrated as you, knowing that he needed to sift through this intel too.

But, the heat was sweltering—so distracting and despite the setting sun outside, had you reaching for a few buttons on your blouse as you leaned back, sighing as you picked up an empty file folder and fanned yourself in earnest, exposing your neck as you hung your head back.

You don’t hear Javier, but you feel him. His eyes on you as you lift your head back up.

Bewilderment. Annoyance. You can’t place it in the moment, he doesn’t even speak. But, you find yourself responding anyway.

“What? It’s hot.”

Javier throws a casual hand up in defense but his eyes follow your hand as they descend into your styrofoam cup, water long gone but the ice standing strong. You take a piece and cup it in your palm before rubbing it over your neck, instantly sighing at the crisp cold touch of it against your skin and aptly ignoring how it drips down the valley of your breasts, looking up to catch Javier at just the right time, his eyes looked on your movements and more pointedly—your chest.

“Here, try it,” You tell him, noticing the sheen of sweat on his neck, “it helps.”

He plucks a cigarette out of his half-empty pack and places it between his lips.

“I’m good.”

“Suit yourself, “ You shrug, but quickly lean forward to pluck the cigarette from his mouth and place it down on the table, “–hey, can you not?”

Javier looks at you in disbelief, snatching the cigarette off the table and tucking it away anyways.

“You smoke in this place all day, you can at least wait until we’re out of here.”

“Do you ever loosen up?” Javier pokes at you daringly, “I mean, what does it really take for you to pull that skirt out of your ass?”

“Not you,” You reply sharply, a smile spreading across your face, “but, putting away the cigarette is a start.”

Javier leans back in the chair with a dignified sigh, scratching at his forehead in frustration at the lack of progress and the fact that he literally has no way out of here.

“You know, he’s been off the grid for three weeks,” You speak out loud, knowing that Javier is well aware, “is there really anything in here that is going to help? Or is it just that all of the leads are dead?”

His demeanor breaks slightly, a shuffle in his shoulders as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Both—maybe. This shit is probably pointless.”

“And that’s why you wanted me to take care of it,” You respond conclusively, “but you’re impatient—you don’t have to argue with me, I know you are.”

“Really, muñequita, you think you know me so well?” Javier asks testingly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, “What else do you know about me?”

“That you like your ego boosted,” You retort, “and I’m not about to do that. So—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Javier says with a smirk, eyes glinting with a faint, creeping darkness.

“Shut up,” You say in a clipped town before looking around curiously, “and what are we supposed to do now? Sleep here? I really can’t believe you fucking locked us in.”

“No, no—” Javier's finger wags in a motion that makes you want to bite them off, jaw clenching forcefully, “if you hadn’t wasted so much time then maybe we could have flagged down someone.”

“Okay, but you still let that door close.”

Once again, both arms crossed over your chest, a staredown is initiated. 

It wasn’t the first, it wasn’t the last, but you wanted to ruin him.

Knock him down a beg—hell, kick him off the pedestal and wipe the goddamn floor with him.

That stupid smirk, the boiling tone of cockiness wrapped in self-righteousness.

“Don’t think too hard, cariño.”

You huff out a half-impressed laugh and organize the files after a moment, stacking them to the side and reaching into your cup for another piece of your melting ice, repeating the same motion as earlier as you slide the ice between your breasts, but with the immense amount of eye contact you didn’t give Javier the first time.

Stubborn girl. He knew that much about you.

Javier doesn’t break immediately, but the small flex in his jaw, the slightest of cracks in his hard exterior.

Attack. Attack. Attack.

You wipe your arm against your sleeve, subconsciously pressing your breasts together in the process and Javier looks like he might keel over, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze now—he’s been caught. Gazing. Admiring. Seering to his memory for a later time.

You’re not really sure but you’re not going to let him off easy either.

“Now, Pena—Don’t think too hard.” You tell him in a sickly sweet tone, “It’s just a pair of tits.”

I don’t bite—you want to add. But, you don’t.

Because even if you found Javier attractive…there was just no way. 

No. Not possible.

“What is it?” Javier asks curiously, seemingly snapped out of his stupor, and meeting your gaze like he hadn’t just been staring directly at your breasts for far too long. “About me, I mean?”

You raise an eyebrow, finger circling the styrofoam cup as you center on the table.

“What?��� You ask with a soft laugh of disbelief. “It’s—it isn’t your looks, Javier. It’s all of you. You undermine me, you treat me like a fucking lap dog. I might be a bitch but—I am not your bitch.”

He wasn’t expecting that intense of a response, it felt even more eerie as your tone continued on steadily. He considers interrupting but you continue, holding a finger up to stop him.

“You know—I transferred here to help with the assignment, collect the intel and take down Pablo Escobar just like you, but for some reason, you seem to think I’m just a personal assistant. Or one of the few receptionists who all want to throw themselves at you.”

“There something wrong with that?”

You roll your eyes in silence, but the gesture is loud.

“Did I say there was?” You counter, “I think the problem for you is that it isn’t me. That someone might actually find you repulsive, right?”

Javier only looks slightly dumb-founded, following your movements as you stand and fetch the stack of files, returning them to their make-shift home for the moment, buried away on a shelf that could be reorganized later—he turns in his chair, glaring right back at you when you turn on your heels. 

“Your legs don’t work?” You ask him, nodding toward thfew smaller stacks of files scattered about the table, “If you want to get the work done so bad, clean up—or do you want me to—”

“I. Got it.” Javier responds stiffly, standing on his own two feet. He scoops up the remaining files and puts them away opposite of the shelf you had, resting a palm on an empty spot as you lean back to pick up a stray piece of paper. “But, don’t act like I don’t see you kissing Carillo’s—”

You stand and shove the paper into his chest, “Finish that sentence and you will regret it, Javier.”

“It’s alright. No shame in your game and all that.”

Fuck this.

You reach for the cup of melted ice, splashing it promptly in Javier’s face before crushing the cup in your hand out of frustration, a moment of frozen realization coming to you.

Had you actually just done that?

Javier blinks, looking down at his soaked front before promptly removing his jacket in haste watching as you slowly back away, slightly disturbed by his calmness until he’s rearing on you.

Slowly—oh, so fucking slow. 

Your chest rises in slow, deep breaths and is nearly hanging off your shoulders by now, riddled with red, hot rage.

“Tell me I don’t make you even a little bit nervous, muñequita.” 

Is this a challenge? Is this what he’s worried about?

“You don’t.”

Your response is quick, but you find yourself pressed against a file cabinet and a few inches of free space before he’s right there—so close you can feel the heat of his body, your heart races slightly.

Okay, maybe just…a little.

“Again,” Javier beckons, a sneer to his tone as he crowds you in—“Look at me and say it.”

And for the love of god, the words never come.

“You let me flirt with you because you like it. Never correct me when I give you those little nicknames—look at you, you can’t even deny it.”

A half-truth. You didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t some sort of sustenance keeping you alive. Besides, it didn’t make up for half of the times he’s belittled you in front of your shared boss.

The heat is suffocating now and Javier’s eyes follow the trail of sweat down your neck, over your breasts, watching your fingers twitch at your side because—

Why do you feel the need to touch him so badly now?

To receive that touch in return and tenfold. 

“¿Qué pasa, pobrecita?” 

His fingers curl around the edge of the file cabinet behind you, barricading you between the wall and him and if you decided to show any signs of discomfort you knew Javier would back off in a heartbeat—you didn’t even need to say anything.

“Is that what it took?” You ask, voice soft in the small gap he’s created, eyes softening slightly as he hears you speak, “Being locked in here with me, nothing else to do—that’s what it takes for you to see me as anything other than some lowly little assistant to you?”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” Javier says fondly, holding back a chuckle in his throat before his free hand is reaching for your neck and forcing your chin up and back, his thumb rubbing into the soft spot where your jaw twitches under his touch, swallowing hard.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I can say the same for you,” Javier responds, tilting his head slightly.

You’re so hot under his touch, skin clammy and wet from the ice and broken AC.

“I’m not saying I don’t.”

Javier presses his body against you slowly, your hands reaching for his shirt instinctively, curling into the fabric and feeling it stick to his skin, feel the weight of his chest against yours, and the very obvious strain of his slacks against your thin pencil skirt.

“And I never said I did,” Javier counters, “doesn’t change the fact that you get under my skin, querida.”

Javier leans in slow, that heavy eye contact never breaking until he’s there—nose pressed against your own and you sigh, breathing into his mouth as your eyes fall closed and he knows.

His lips are soft, careful. It feels like a test.

Your resolve melts in an instant, damning Javier for whatever spell he’s placed on you but you want more, hands skirting slowly up his front until they’re molding around his neck, kissing back with a similar eagerness, still laced in trepidation.

Things ramp up quickly, Javier’s fingers finding the edge of your shirt where it’s tucked into your skirt, pulling it free and squeezing at your sides, forcing your ass down against his knee from where it's tucked between your legs, somehow finding its way there in the chaos.

“Jav—Javier,” You breathe, pulling away, “maybe—maybe this isn’t the best place…”

Your eyes trail toward the camera tucked away in the corner of the room, knowing that it had to have some pretty damning evidence by this point—the list was long and you tried not to think about it for too long before Javier’s voice is pulling you back.

“That thing hasn’t worked in weeks,” He reassures and the flickering light above dims slightly, almost on cue, “are you scared of getting caught?”

You shake your head slowly and his smile grows, lips pressed against your own as he speaks and his hands tight at your hips, pressing your core right at the center of his thigh and pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched over your ass. You throb at the pressure, breathing out shakily.

“Then let go, muñequita,” He coos.

You hum, breath catching as he pushes his thigh up, your hips instinctively rocking against the pressure and if the heat weren’t already overwhelming, you would’ve passed out from that alone.

“It’s cute,” His hands aid your movement, a slow but steady rock of your hips as you furrow your brow at his voice, “—yeah that, you do that little thing with your brow whenever I talk to you.”

“Because I can’t s—stand you,” You voice falters, feeling him pick up the pace slightly to match your sudden eagerness, months without a proper sexual partner outside of yourself and you couldn’t help but be just a little bit more open to the idea of fucking someone who wasn’t your first option, or second—not even your last. Javier was nowhere on your list, actually. 

But, here he was. Offering himself over to you.

Besides, you had an entire night stuck alone with him—it wasn’t the worst way to entertain yourselves.

“Doesn’t seem that way right now,” Javier counters, his ego shining through.

“Stop. Talking.” You plead, hands pulling at the seam of buttons on his shirt, pulling at it roughly in two quick, forceful movements until it splits open, mangling some of the buttons in the process but if upsets him, he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he rips it away just as quick, pulling his leg away to descend to his knees, pushing your blouse up your chest until he can reach bare skin, mouthing at the soft skin of your stomach and—christ, it’s distracting. He yanks at the short zipper on your skirt, making a small noise of happy acknowledgement when he’s able to get it undone and pull your skirt down the rest of the way, breath hot over your underwear as he stares up at you, fingers curled around the thread at your hips.

You nod silently and he presses his mouth against your center, teasing kisses along your inner thighs that slowly turn into playful bites until you’re nearly squirming, begging with a softer version of his name that you never tried to let him catch you using.

“Javi, please.”

He pulls your panties down your legs, over your heels and to the floor with little care, too focused on settling your leg over his shoulder before a hand is curling over the top of your thigh, fingertips digging in as he licks a broad stripe through the center of your pussy, his other hand balled into the fabric of your shirt and you need less—less clothing, less restriction.

You fumble with your buttons, head falling back against the metal of the filing cabinet with a sigh as the tip of his tongue slides over your clit and down, a motion he repeats several times in your poor attempts to undress and chuckles against you when you curse, finally getting your top unbuttoned and letting it sag at your shoulders, your fingers buried in his hair as he groans, lapping at you eagerly as his hand rises blindly until he can squeeze at your breast.

You moan loudly, instinctively covering your mouth at the sound as Javier pulls back in subtle shock himself, surprised that you allowed yourself to be so vocal about how he was affecting you.

“Not a fucking word, Javi.” You berate him, pushing a finger into his forehead gently which he takes in stride, laughing quietly.

“No one is here.” He reminds you, “Listen.”

And you do, Javier slowly rising to his feet and pressing his lips against the side of your neck, working at his belt in time, shucking his pants open just enough for you to slip your hand into his boxers, gripping his cock tight in your hand—still, absolute silence.

“Let me fuck you,” Javier begs—begs with fervor, his breath hot against your ear, “please?”

You nod jerkily, feeling him settle his slacks just low enough that they aren’t a nuisance and pulling the thigh that was resting over his shoulder around his hip, his fingers digging into your ass as you tug at him testingly, enjoying the look on his face when you squeeze a little harder than he’s expecting, enjoying the heavy weight of him in your hand.

“Oh, I can fuck that hate right out, querida ” Javier admonishes, “don’t try me.”

“I dare you,” You challenge him, using your free hand to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a soft grunt in return, “—just remember to pull out, yeah?”

Javier full on snorts at that, a noise muffled into your neck when he leans forward, guiding himself to press against your cunt before he sinks in, both of your momentary hostility turning to full bliss.

His hand curves around the back of your head, a simple gesture but maybe more of a warning, his hips snapping into you suddenly, quickly, jostling you against the hard surface. He was protecting your head from the sharp edge of the cabinet and you almost laughed at the thought, but his impatient, fevered movements are sending you into a spiral, eyes rolling back.

“Stay with me,” He teases softly, lips at the base of your neck,  “want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

And you do, boldly, despite how your heart races. You let your body do the work, shutting your mind off for the moment—the hesitation, the worry, the regret that would hit you five minutes after this was over. 

You don’t remember it feeling like this, either. The full body sensation, his gaze heating you from the inside out, your thumb slipping over his bottom lip curiously, his teeth biting down gently on the digit as he fucks you deeper into the surface of the cabinet, if that was possible. 

There are no words, just sounds—moans that could be heard across the bullpen if someone was close enough and Javier, who is plenty vocal and has shown himself to be, can’t even form words, grunting with every few sharp snaps of his hips, fucking you so thouroughly it aches.

“Touch yourself,” He instructs, “let me see, muñequita. Wanna know.”

It doesn’t matter if he’s thought about it before—or, if somewhere in the deep, dark shadows of your mind that you might have had the same thought about him too.

There is no convincing, feeling yourself so on the edge already that it wouldn’t take much. And it doesn’t, your hand descending until your fingers graze over your clit, steadily bringing yourself closer and closer, legs shaking under Javi’s grip until he has to bear most of your weight as you come, blunt fingernails digging into his shoulder as you cry out. And he’s there too, so close and hanging on by a thread, the unsteady thrust of his hips a tell-tale sign.

Your heart is racing, mind too, and the words that come out aren’t anything of rational thinking.

“In my mouth,” You tell him, sounding more earnest than you ever have.

“You sure?”

You laugh through the exhaustion.

“Are you really questioning that?”

He shakes his head in amusement before he’s patting the back of your neck gently and urging you to your knees, jerking himself into your open mouth a few seconds before he’s coming, somehow managing to keep the moment tender as he holds your chin and squeezes gently, watching you swallow down the heady taste of him with your eyes locked on his.

“So, what now?” You ask jokingly, taking the hand he offers to you after a moment of him tucking himself back into his jeans, cursing when you shoulder bumps a stack of files on the way up, dropping them to the floor in a pile. 

Javier fetches your clothes and hands them over, redressing himself before plucking at the files hastily.

You’re nearly dressed when you hear him curse behind you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm?” You turn on your heels, busy tucking your shirt back into your skirt when you spot the item in his hands—a small gold key. “Well—don’t fucking stare at it. Try it.”

Javier approaches the door with quick footsteps, followed by your softer ones as you slip on your heels, gasping as the key turns in the lock and suddenly—the past couple of hours dissipates in an instant.

“Look at it this way,” Javier says lightly, “we’d still be stuck in here otherwise.”

Being that, if he hadn’t fucked you against the filing cabinet you’d be spending your night sleeping on the murky carpet of the file room floor—so, as usual, Javier Pena saves the day.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Javier suggests, “it’s the least I could do.”

“I live like three blocks away from—”

“Humor me?”

You chew at your bottom lip hesitantly.

Javier reaches forward suddenly, soothing the worry with his thumb.

“Pobrecita, if it isn’t all gone, we can try again?”

You slap his hand away gently, wordlessly taking his offer as you step past him, watching as his smile grows to a satisfied grin.

“You didn’t say no,” He adds.

Maybe he hadn’t fucked all of the hate out of you, but it was a start.

↝ special thanks to @undercoverpena for taking a look over this for me <3

↝ divider credit: yours truly.

[stariikis]

trust myself

desc ; sitting in with riki as he films his en-note and accompanying him through the multitude of emotions that follow.

pairing ; idol!nishimura riki x gf!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 1228 notes ; understand that i love riki because i see a version of myself in him...

When your boyfriend sits down at the hotel table, a singular lamp illuminating his screen with a yellow warmth, your heart aches at just the thought of what he might say next. Though Riki’s always been very skilled at switching between seriously honest and teasingly goofy, he becomes a completely different person when he’s filming en-notes. 

He becomes so vulnerable to the invisible crowd that it hurts you more than it irks you. And sometimes, when confesses struggles even you have never heard from his mouth before, you wonder if you’re not enough for him. Not good enough a listener. Not trustworthy enough for him to confide in. 

How come he only opens up under the pressure of the camera lens?

“Don’t stress out,” you mumble quickly before he presses the red record button on his phone screen. Three simple words and yet they have Riki pausing for a long moment, digesting your words. 

After a while, he nods curtly. “I won’t.” He’s lying through his teeth. But he beckons you closer and as you lean in, he kisses your eyelid. Pulling away, he seems to smile slightly in an effort to coax you into relaxing. As if he wants you to give it up. 

Though the tender action does send a wave of serenity through you, you can’t help but to feel a lingering sense of dread, with questions unanswered running through your mind. When will I get to find out something about him that the fans won’t? Or does he think he should just be honest with everyone at the same time? Is he not conscious of the world being familiar with the very depths of his soul?

Or are you just envious that somebody who isn’t exclusive to him is able to understand him like you do? 

“27 June 2024.” Before you can get lost in your thoughts, Riki starts speaking. You hate with all your heart and soul the exhausted, subdued shadow over his features. He starts talking about their recent concert in Hiroshima — how they hold their Japanese single, ‘Blossom’, close to their hearts; how he’s proud of Jay for pressing through their performance even with an injured knee. 

Then he gets to the hard stuff. 

It’s like he already has one foot out the door when you send him a glare and he ignores it out the corner of his eye. As soon as he opens his mouth again, gaze trailing off to the bottom of the screen, you know it’s coming. The same phrase he likes to repeat over and over again, and then cover up with a ‘but you know, I just love performing in front of you guys.’ 

“I do have some regrets.” 

You hope your glare is like a slap in the face to him. If it’s not, you don’t know what you’re going to do with him. All his following words just seep down the drain. Why does it pain you more than it pains him, to hear the words, ‘I need to work harder’ come out his mouth? Like he genuinely doesn’t see that he’s pushing himself to the limit already? This is exactly why you despise concert season. Coupled with jetlag, the mental form of fatigue seems to strike around these times as does physical, and it’s never good for Riki. 

His words fall on deaf ears. You’re boiling with an inexplicable rage, but it’s the most tame version of the concept of anger.

You just don’t understand, as he stops the recording and turns back to you. You can’t tell if he plain doesn’t get the weight of the situation, or is trying to avoid your gaze solely due to that reason. 

So before he returns to his usual playful self – you can see the light slowly returning to his eyes; he’s about to shove you to the other side of the bed with a snide quip – you grab his wrist and look at him scrutinisingly. 

“Do you mean all those things you said?” You stare at him imploringly in the dim lighting. “Every single one of them?” 

“Do you wish you could say more?” You say breathlessly, desperately looking from eye to eye like they’ll provide all the answers. 

Clearly taken aback, your boyfriend gently pulls his hand from your vice grip. “I mean it,” he murmurs sincerely. “I mean it all. How could I not?” 

Your gaze travels down his neck to the safety-pin necklace he refuses to take off. The meaning behind it is special to him, and likewise, he can’t be seen a day without it. His dedication and sincerity will never be deniable. So why do you feel as if there’s something he’s holding back, not telling you… a truth that he’s altered? 

“There’s nothing more to say?” You press, slightly disappointed because there’s two explanations for this. One, he’s really got nothing left in him to spill, especially not to you. Or two, he just doesn’t want you to know what more he has to say. You can’t decide which’d be worse. 

“...” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He reaches up to fiddle with his necklace as he climbs into bed beside you. “I know. You’re concerned because I hardly open up to you one-on-one. Rather, you have to hear it second-hand when I have ‘conversation’ with the fans.” 

Right. He’s extremely insightful too. How did I forget that about him? 

You just nod, taking care not to look too upset by the situation. 

“Would it be a lame excuse to say that it’s because I don’t trust myself enough?” He whispers as he unzips his patchy blue jacket and unclips his earrings. “To come clean to you, that is.” 

“Yes,” you say instantly, lightheartedly. ‘Okay but seriously, why don’t you trust yourself? Is that the truth, or do you not trust me enough? They’re different, you know.” 

“I know…” he scoots closer to you and lies down on his side, facing you. “To put it simply, I’m scared that what comes out is a sugarcoated version of the truth. When I face you, I don’t want to worry you with… everything. When I face the camera… it’s different. Because what are they going to do about it? There’s nothing they can do to help.” 

You make eye contact with him, and finally a sliver of anxiety crosses his orbs right before your eyes. 

“I don’t like it when you put up a front with me though,” you say. “It worries me even more than you think.” 

“Well, I know now,” he scoffs, moving the hair out your face and looking at you with such a tender look of love that the surroundings all fade away to dust. “I’m sorry. I’ll confide in you better next time… wow that sounds so…” 

He cringes and buries his head into the pillows cutely. A mixture of affection and relief floods over you at this, and you touch his hands in silence. 

When he lifts his face from the pillow, he pouts endearingly and intertwines your fingers together. “Seriously, there’s nobody I trust more than you, okay? Sorry if it didn’t feel that way.” 

So, even though he’s supposed to be getting rest for their upcoming activities, he spends the rest of the night telling you the full, honest truth — and of course he pairs this with a bunch of kisses, teasing remarks and cuddles.

more of my works >

[driaswrld]

city boys! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.4k

summary : you go grocery shopping with satoru and suguru and they're just idiots tbvh (gn! reader)

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i have shamelessly brought my calculator to a kfc drive thru and yes i do it at the grocery store bcus i have dyscalculia math sucks don't @ me. also i have so much satosugu brainrot i can't breathe. yay to the satoru themed era of the blog :))

other : this can be read as platonic or poly just however you wanna see it! (like three curse words i think - mentions of cunnilingus) I SWEAR ITS NOT WHAT U THINK

current casette : city boys - burna boy

There’s something about summer that makes Satoru and Suguru hang off your shoulders more than they ought to. In the most mundane situations too.

“—and it’s not even that serious!” Satoru groans, dragging his feet on the floor, reluctantly marching behind where you’re pushing the trolley. “Who cares what kind of curry it is? Curry is curry.” He reasons with a huff.

Suguru nudges you in the middle of the supermarket aisle from time to time, pointing out things you usually buy, brands you usually prefer over most, and you grab whatever you find remotely necessary and toss in the cart, both of you collectively ignoring Satoru’s whines.

“C’monnn… Listen to me!”

You pick up a can of diced pineapple and look at Suguru. “Nah, that one’s too sour,” he murmurs and you put it back instantly. Afterall, Suguru’s the best taste tester you could ever ask for. Satoru just scarfs down everything in a forty mile radius.

“The design on the can was pretty though, ‘s a shame.” You sigh.

Satoru’s groans fall on deaf ears.

You turn a corner and head into the fruit aisle. Suguru’s eyes flick to something over your head and his steps falter for a moment. While you’re pushing the trolley ahead, a soft smack! noise comes from behind you and before you can turn your head—

“No! I wanted the other one—”

“This one’s better—”

You ignore them, albeit barely with all the commotion both boys are causing in the supermarket. Leaning over an array of cherries on display, you hum to yourself, carefully picking the pretty ones to add to the cart, perusing at the other assortment of fruit and if even possible, Satoru and Suguru’s bickering gets louder.

“That tastes like shit—” “You look like shit—”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“You eat pussy with that mouth?”

You strain your head forward as an old lady strolls past, her eyes a little wide and eyebrows knitted with a look of utter shock and you shrink. With a stiff, humorless giggle you turn your back to her, suddenly finding a bunch of grapes oddly interesting.

Embarrassing.

And when you breathe a breath of relief as the old lady passes by, Satoru swings his arm over your shoulder, pouting. “Suguru’s a dumbass—” He’s cut off by a smack to the back of his head, and despite yourself you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Will you two just behave and,” you shift out of Satoru’s hold to take the mini package of ridiculously sweet m&m infused rice krispies he has in his other hand.

You toss it into the cart. “—help me pick some stuff for my fruit salad?” Satoru shrugs with a sigh, he hates shopping. It’s so boring—

You laugh and pull up the list you typed up on your phone : Raspberries, check. Kiwi, check. Watermelon, check. Grapes…

“What else do you need?” Suguru asks, and he sidesteps Satoru, leaning casually on the trolley, one foot pushing it forward and backward as you look through the fruits. “Grapes—” you murmur, suddenly feeling indecisive as you look through the different bunches. Green or Purple. Purple or Green.

Satoru pushes his sunglasses down to the curve of his nose. “Green, ‘s prettier,” he says and you turn to grab a bunch of the green grapes as Suguru straightens his body, pretending to look over your shoulder as he sneakily drops a package of plain marshmallow rice krispies into the cart. “Yeah, green would make it look way more appealing, wouldn’t it?” You whisper to yourself.

“I saw that—” Satoru begins to say.

“Purple’s better, healthier than the green ones.” Suguru says with a straight face. Behind your back he flips Satoru off.

You shrug your shoulders and grab a small bunch of both. If anything, it’ll be shared well between you and Shoko in the bentos you make. Hopefully she appreciates the struggle.

Sliding your phone unlocked, you glance at the list again as you step off. Grapes, check. Suguru pushes the trolley, following close behind you as Satoru trudges behind him. “Wait—” You halt immediately, and Suguru has to steer the trolley left so he doesn’t run into you, but Satoru steps on the back of Suguru's shoes, and looks away with a bashful whistle.

“Other aisle, we need to turn around.” You say, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. Canned Pineapples. You forgot you put back the last one. “How many damn aisles are there?” Satoru mumbles as you turn and make a beeline for the next corner, going back where the three of you came. Suguru chuckles.

Kneeling, you grab the canned pineapples opposite to the ones Suguru said were sour. Hopefully that much distance in the store is enough of a difference between the two brands.

You check the list one more time. Pineapples, check.

“Right, that should be it.” You mumble and both boys internally celebrate — well, Satoru makes a show of letting out a long dramatic sigh of relief while Suguru nods.

Taking a look into the cart, Satoru pettily moves his package of rice krispies on the other side of the cart, away from Suguru’s and when Suguru looks at him incredulously, he sticks a tongue out, “Your flavor’s trash.”

Suguru rolls his eyes and is about to push the trolley forward to run him over when he sees you pull out a scientific calculator from your tote.

A scientific calculator. The same one you use for school. “The fu—” Satoru is about to say, and Suguru glances at him, both of them trying to at least read each other’s minds about what the hell is going on.

You however, are so hyper focused on your little task, pushing the buttons of your calculator, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Satoru and Suguru watch you for all of two minutes. One minute spent with expressions morphing from confused, to even more confused, to utterly amused. The second minute spent snickering quietly and snapping silent pictures for the groupchat.

“Huh, I went over a little.” You hum and though they haven’t wiped the sheer amusement off their faces, they both find themselves intrigued. “By how much?” Suguru asks, quickly sending off the pictures to the groupchat.

“Seven hundred yen.” You reply as you step forward to peer into the cart, willing and ready to discard one unnecessary item to drop the price.

Three of your phones chime. Satoru checks his own notification.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : who added me to this???

Nanaminn <3 : delete my number gojo.

“Bet it’s the curry.” Satoru mumbles absentmindedly, typing at his phone screen. “The curry’s like—” he pauses, shoves his phone in his hoodie pocket and counts silently on his fingers. “A thousand yen or something — they must’ve put the god of curry in there or something.”

“It’s not the curry,” you reason scouring the cart for any discrepancies. And there’s quite a few of them. Including but not limited to some Sakura tarts, sour candies, an extra package of rice krispies—

“The curry powder we picked is five hundred yen, it’s not the curry.” Suguru shrugs, and Satoru leans against one of the shelves of seasoning, letting out a quiet sneeze.

“Bless you— I need to recheck these.” The calculator comes out again as you murmur to yourself, the click clacking of the buttons drowning out your own thoughts.

“I’m just saying— maybe it was the rice krispie Suguru snuck into the cart—” Satoru mumbles, all while he bends his body at the end of the aisle, reaching blindly around to the shelves on the other side.

“You put one in, I was only balancing the trolley weight.” Suguru interrupts, and he turns his head away when you look up from your calculator at him accusingly.

“See?” Satoru grins, almost victoriously as he grasps a package of baumkuchen, wheeling his hand back as he sidesteps Suguru, moving to slide the pastry into the trolley. “Who knows what else’ll just drop into the cart?” And your calculator is forgotten as you snatch the pastry from Satoru’s hand. “Nothing else is dropping into the cart—”

But something else catches your attention as you’re about to scold him.

Two bright green bags, hidden at the bottom of the cart, stuffed under the packaging of Sakura tarts.

“Who the hell put Kenpi chips in here?”

Satoru and Suguru both freeze, and suddenly their accusing fingers are pointed at each other. But instead of scolding them like they expect—

“Should’ve at least put one for me.”

You're never going to the grocery store with them again.

Bonus :

“Satoru’s paying for the extra snacks—”

“Not fair! Suguru shouldn’t get to just stuff his face—”

“Only two of those snacks are mine. Two. Out of ten.”

A notification sounds on the three of your phones.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : is that my calculator that you borrowed???

@todorokies gets the privilege tag cs i told knives ab this first😭

[setsugekka]

❥get you alone (m)

↳ In which your new job as the company financial advisor makes one thing loud and clear: the no dating the talent policy is one that is quite frequently disregarded.

bang chan x fem!reader — coworkers to lovers, idolverse, forbidden romance, explicit sexual content. [6k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex (unprotected), creampie, rough sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, Bang Chan has a Big Dick.

Starting the new job in the summer would be good.

This is what you told yourself when you begrudgingly hauled all of your belongings across Seoul in the blazing heat, for a move that took all of fourteen hours – from start to finish, and even with the help of some friends. It didn’t feel like it would be good then, but you had to hold onto the self-imposed reassurance that it would eventually be good. Autumn was right around the corner, after all, and a shiny new loft apartment in an excellent spot in town was hard to say 'no’ to, especially given the salary increase you were taking on to top it all off.

Your friends constantly prodded you with jokes the whole day about how lucky you were – to be working alongside idols. You insisted that this were hardly the case as someone working in finance of all things. Not exactly the glitz and the glam of microphones and high heels. You insisted that the chances of you meeting anyone all too often were slim to none, much to their displeasure.

You wanted that to be true. You genuinely thought it would be.

After all, that was the case at the previous companies you worked for as a temp financial advisor – you didn’t see much of anyone that had been on television. You could count the times you had run into someone famous in the hallways of your work place on one hand, and it was always simply in passing. Nothing exciting. Nothing to report. Taking on a full-time gig at JYPE – you had no reason to assume any different.

Three days into the job, you finally feel a bit settled in. Papers, pens, and comforting knick-knacks just in all of the right places on your desk – it’s a sign of a newbie for sure – someone not quite yet frazzled by the whirlwind of what the job would entail. Seated a bit in the back of the large office room, you hear the door open and the woman at the front most desk sighing exasperatedly – cautioning something about how someone can’t be here, but from the tone of her voice, it sounds as if this is not the first, second, or even third time she’s said the same – and only for it to fall upon deaf ears just as it seemingly had today.

“I just need to talk about the budget for the video,” you hear coming towards you – and you can’t see him yet, but you can hear him getting closer, accompanied by the sounds of other financial workers in the office shuffling about in an attempt to remedy the situation.

The situation?

“We have people for that, you don’t need to come and do it yourself!” the woman from the front nearly yells, but by that time, the man has just about reached your desk – and you’re a little worried about what it is that you might have to deal with right about now. What sort of absolutely nuts, disgruntled, higher-up is coming for your head already about a project that you’re not even filled in on yet?

“Yeah, but I like to do it my—”

The stranger reaches your desk finally, popping his head around the side of your cubicle wall to find something that apparently must be surprising to him, as it cuts his thought process off in an instant. You watch his brows furrow in confusion – not necessarily anger – but more so that he wasn’t expecting to find the sight he had found. His head cocks to the side suddenly, and he pulls himself into your field of vision entirely, still visibly confused by the fact that he’s looking at you.

“Y-yes?” you stutter out, completely frozen in place with uncertainty about what the complete fuck is going on right now in this office.

“Oh!” he exclaims, realizing now that the entire scenario is obviously absolutely bizarre to you. “Sorry, umm, so I guess the other woman doesn’t work here anymore?”

“Suppose…not.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure you can help me—”

But the woman from the front of the office finally makes her way to the back where the both of you reside. The mans face dropping and beginning to take on that of a childs who knows he’s about to get reprimanded.

“You don’t have to answer to him,” she says to you, but also sort of speaking to him as well. “Despite what they’d have you think, the idols don’t actually run things here. We have a particular way of doing things and Chris absolutely loves ignoring that.”

…The idols?

It hadn’t crossed your mind before, albeit, a lot was going on, but since the I-word had been mentioned now, a lot of things were beginning to come together now. He is quite good looking, and given how revealing his tank top is – appears to work out, as well. Nice skin, beautiful smile…a little short, but that’s okay.

“I’m just a guy!” the man you have now learned is named Chris retorts as the woman takes her leave, and he turns back to face you again, leaning his arm up against the wall next to you, “what’s a guy gotta do to get treated like a guy around here?”

“Probably not be famous,” you respond in sort of a half-giggle, trying to restrain the smile from your lips as you turn back towards your computer to finish inputting some data. “But if you need something, I’ll be happy to look into it. You came all this way after all.”

Chris catches the way sarcasm drips from your last few words and rolls his eyes, gently tossing the stack of papers he came in with onto a empty spot of your desk.

“Are you going to treat me like this now, too? The new girl already tainted, how tragic.”

“You asked, I gave you a legitimate answer as to why.”

“Mm, fair,” he nods, pushing his bottom lip out for a moment as he considers the fact – then quickly finds himself along a separate path of thought. “So, what’s your name?”

You tell him, he responds that it’s pretty. You find that more than a little bit annoying, given your awareness of the incredibly strict 'no dating’ policy among office workers in JYPE, and even more strict 'no dating the talent’ policy – one that lands your contract terminated if they so much as even suspect that you’re engaging in unsavory behavior with any one of the idols under their label.

Chris lingers about a bit longer before you finally look towards him again and tell him that you’ll take a look at the paperwork the next chance you get, which, despite not directly telling him to leave you alone, he does manage to take the hint and bids you farewell, that it was nice to meet you, and that he looks forward to your next meeting…to which the woman from up front once again responds, “you shouldn’t be in here!”

You think about this story often now – the story of how you and Chan met. It seems so cute and casual now, like a story that two children would tell about how they met on the playground because the little boy pushed the little girl into the sandbox…except now they’re thirty-five and married with three wonderful children. It only feels that way in essence, though, because while yes – your relationship with Chan was far from married with children, it wasn’t zero.

And that was a problem. Ironically, mostly for you, it seemed.

As the months carried on, Chan did indeed continue coming to your desk for all of his financial needs instead of going through the appointed channels put in place by the company. He eventually tells you that he does it this way because he feels more comfortable doing it himself – he knows who did it, and when, and whether it got done or not. He knows all of the steps, so if anything goes wrong, he knows exactly how and why. Easier to fix. It makes sense, of course, until the few times you have to call him for some unsigned documents and he tells you to come meet him in the studio, or the practice room, or even at the dorm.

It’s not okay, and the both of you know that. You find yourself very quickly sneaking around – hoping not to be seen on your way to your secret rendezvous with Chan – and not even for that. But certainly, that’s what everyone would think if they were to know.

You kind of wished it were the case, too.

And there had been a few nights where things got a little strange. A little out of line. Chan was a flirt, and you wanted to be flirted with by him. The occasional hand grabbing, or his hand placed at the small of your back as he passes behind you, lingering a little bit longer each time he does it – but nothing overt. If you were honest, you weren’t quite sure if chan was into you or not. He was never entirely clear about his intentions. While financials and paperwork had obviously, at times, fallen to the wayside and perhaps simply been an excuse to get you into the same room as him, he had never made a move, and never said anything that would indicate a completely inappropriate and – by work standards – illegal romance between the two of you.

That didn’t necessarily stop you from desiring it, though.

It took nearly a year before the wall showed a crack. The impenetrable Bang Chan.

“Can you come to the cafeteria with it? I’m trying to have dinner before I get back to work.”

You roll your eyes, shoulder and face craned to hold the phone in place as you type on the computer in front of you and sigh upon finding the time – already much later than when you were supposed to be out of the office and also well over your allotted overtime for the month.

But, it was Chan, and yeah, you were a bit soft for him and the few quiet moments you got to spend around him. Even if they didn’t mean anything. Even if they never would. A guilty pleasure – partaking in all of the things that you shouldn’t.

When you arrive, much to your surprise – Chan is the only one there. Being well past office working hours, it was prime time for idol working, and you think that you’ve never seen the place so empty before – although, if you were honest, you didn’t spend much time there, either.

Chan waves you over to his table, well into eating a bowl of mild cup ramen as you sit just ahead of him and place the stack of papers on the end of it. You take a moment to look around at the scenery – which perhaps isn’t much to him, but for a moment, it makes you consider what it must be like. To live life as an idol.

The man in front of you manages to mumble out a 'thanks’ in between eating and you assure him it’s no problem. In a moment of his looking away from you, you take in for a moment his features a bit more intricately. The bags under his eyes from restless nights and messy hair – the gray hoodie adorning him looking potentially slept in from the night before – and it’s a little charming. You know next to nothing about this man, but if there’s one thing you know, it’s that he works hard. Tirelessly. Selflessly. For the group of men he lovingly refers to as “the kids”.

“Can I ask you something? And you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal or anything,” you start suddenly, placing your chin in your palm and elbow on the table as you look across towards him. He stops eating, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively and hurries his chewing so that he can assess the question faster.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Well, or boyfriend, I guess, didn’t mean to assume anything—”

And Chan snorts, looking down towards the table and grinning – and for a moment you could swear that he almost looks…embarrassed. Sheepish. Shy.

“No,” he says, ever so slightly shaking his head in response as well before looking up at you through his eyelashes, and it’s truly as if he’s self-conscious about the fact. “No I do not. Kind of hard to meet someone in this line of work.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little taken aback – both by the fact that he answered the question at all, and by – well, everything else about the interaction.

“Surely that can’t be true, you’re surrounded by beautiful people everywhere.”

“You see, the thing about being surrounded by beautiful women,” Chan starts, shoveling some more noodles in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before finishing his thought, “is that they are also surrounded by beautiful men.”

The implication of his response sound insane to you. Is he really implying that he’s…not?

But Chan doesn’t give you time you think it out much further, starting up another thought. “The truth of the matter is that I’m just too busy,” he says, wiping his face and hands with a napkin, crumpling it, and placing it on the tray in front of him before sliding it just out of the way of your conversation.

“Most days I work about fourteen, maybe sixteen hours? And that’s everything: any filming, recording, then there’s the producing I do as well, plus I’m on the business end of a lot of the things that we get to do, and then when I come home I’m still sort of dad even though they are, of course, plenty capable of doing things for themselves, but it’s just the position I’ve taken on within the group…I don’t have the kind of time someone would deserve, y'know?”

“Yeah,” you respond fast enough to show acknowledgment, but his words run through your mind for much longer than that. A man that takes on so much more than the average idol.

You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t think he was sexier now. That’s a problem. Especially because the next question out of your mouth is extremely self-indulgent, and perhaps even gives you away.

A woman of stronger might may have been able to avert the trajectory of this scenario. That woman was not you.

“You don’t even have anyone you like…just, see?”

Chan looks up at you slowly now, eyebrows tensed slightly together – and it’s not anger, but curiosity to match your own. It’s sort of a playful smile that purses across his lips as you watch the thoughts bounce around his head in real time – holding your facial expression perfectly as to not give even more away than you already had. He has to be the one to speak next or it’s doomed.

“What do you mean?”

Fuck.

It’s not what you wanted, because now you have to speak more. It’s not even like you’re offering, or extending the invitation as it were, you’re just…curious. Innocently curious. Completely innocently curious about where his dick has been lately.

“Like, a friend…with benefits? I guess?”

The man in front of you holds fast, continuing to stare at you for a moment before cracking up a bit again and shaking his head just as he had the first time you asked him something that, to him, is completely absurd.

“No,” and you watch as he cocks his head to the side suddenly and smiles an awkward smile into the table – knowing that he’s about to admit something even more humiliating than he already had. “It’s been quite a long time since anything like that.”

Oh, now you’re really intrigued. So much so that the allure of playing coy is completely thrown out of the window. You have to know everything, and now.

“Oh my God, how long?” you ask quickly, jutting yourself forward toward him as if he’s some sort of exhibit on display for your viewing pleasure, and he pulls back suddenly, still laughing, but obviously absolutely beside himself in sheepishness. 

“Oh come on, really? Is it that hard to believe?”

“What!? Yes! Of course it is!”

“Why?”

“Because look at—”

It’s in that moment that you consider that this entire situation was a set up from the beginning, and not on your end. A sudden realization that all of the upper-hand you had thought that you had, never really existed at all. Had…Chan been playing you this whole time?

Chan sits back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looks away with a smile, still shy, but obviously amused by the turn the situation had taken. Maybe it wasn’t a set up. Maybe it was just a happy little mistake.

“About three years, I just have other stuff going on, that’s all,” he finally responds to the originally intended question – before the derailment of what’s and why’s.

You choose not to respond, having already given far too much of yourself away to the discussion.

When Moa from the creative direction department celebrates her 10th year with the company, the higher-ups green light a huge party for it, citing her relentless contributions, hard work and loyalty. It’s your first time attending one of these anniversary parties, but you’re assured that most of them are not like this.

It’s one of the few times that the idols and the office workers mingle much. Given Moa’s direct work with the talent in particular, it’s expected for them to be invited to such a gathering, and despite it taking place at the company building, dress code is (not so) strictly enforced and everyone is told to “dress nice,” a guideline that works better for some than for others. If honest, not even you are particularly sure what this means – stuck somewhere between completely formal and business-casual, you simply decide on the latter…more or less. Something similar to the usual just above the knee length dress you would wear to work, but more casual, and a blouse with a bit more sheer to it.

When you get back to the building, it’s well past typical closing hours but the sound of a party is easily heard from even the lowest level. Nine floors up, the elevator dings and you step out with a bottle of wine in one hand and your bag in another – plus your eye out for Chan, of course.

And that makes you feel a little bit silly, yes, because this being an after hours party doesn’t make the company policies any more suspended. They are still very much in place.

But still, the joys of flirting aren’t to be ignored, and no one better to do it with than him.

When you step in, you quickly notice a few of the twice ladies there – beautiful girls, glowing from all of the way across the room, and Chan standing with two of them in particular, looking especially cozy – and you do your best to ignore the ping of pain in your chest that you know without a doubt does not belong there. Chan looks over and makes eye contact with you and you both nod a silent hello, before making your way over to your colleague, and the table in which you are to leave your offering of wine.

It’s rather quick, much quicker than expected, that Chan catches up with you – as you’ve barely had time to say hello to Moa before he’s placing that sly hand on the small of your back and greeting the both of you. You watch the look on your colleagues face switch to one of confusion – wondering why one of the idols is getting so handsy with you, but she simply smiles and thanks you for coming.

You suspect in that moment, that the 'no dating the talent’ policy is one that is frequently disregarded.

The black haired man to your side pours you a drink, then pouring himself, and you take notice of the way he’s dressed for the occasion – just a nice button down shirt and some nicely fitted jeans – nothing fancy but he took a moment to step out of the sweats that he had probably been wearing for a few days straight by that point. Appreciated. Chan hands you a cup and raises it towards you just the slightest bit in cheers before taking a sip.

You catch the way his eyes linger on the silhouette of your waist and hips before pulling away in an effort to not be seen.

“Friend?” you say, nodding towards the girls that Chan had been talking to previously, and watch him in nearly a panic raise a hand up as if to swear upon something.

“We’re just friends.”

“That’s…what I said,” you respond, chuckling into your cup and shaking your head, “calm down, we’re friends, not married.”

“And I’m sure that’s devastating to you.”

The response fully takes you off guard, practically causing you to choke on the drink you had quite disastrously already taken into your mouth. You think of why he’d say this to you – as best as you can in only the few seconds you have to do so: he’s been there longer, is he drunk? Is he stupid? Is he insane?

“What?” you retort, looking at him with a face that one would surmise that they had grown an extra nose since the last time they had looked in the mirror. A look of absolute bewilderment.

“You were going to say I was handsome that one time, back at the cafeteria, don’t think I forgot,” Chan replies with a smug tone, as if winning some sort of battle that you hadn’t known about.

“Yeah that doesn’t mean I want to marry you, are you insane?”

“I was filling in the blanks, whatever,” he answers back, waving a hand about playfully and purposefully avoiding eye contact with you. It’s true that he might have had a few and that’s what had been causing him to be so bold, but he was very much aware of the game he was playing.

Two can play, you think to yourself.

“So am I to assume then that you wish to raise a family with me, with the way you were just checking me out only a moment ago?”

You watch Chan bite his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself from smiling – knowing he’s caught – he looks down to the floor before looking over at you. “Ah, saw that, did you?”

“Yeah, not sure you could have made it any more obvious, actually.”

“Sorry about that,” he says, playfulness dropping from his tone slightly and replaced with seriousness. It catches you off guard, because wait, no, I like what we’re doing right now.

“You don’t have to – it’s fine,” you answer back hurriedly, to reassure him and try to bring the both of you back to a flirtatious place, but the look on Chan’s face is yet again another reminiscent of that day in the cafeteria.

All according to his plan. You’re right where he wanted you all along.

“So, you like it when I look at you then?” he says in a whisper, leaning over closer to you to assure that no one else will hear the conversation.

Now or never, shit or get off the pot.

You lean towards him, meeting him just about halfway to close the distance between the two of you, before turning your head to look at him and find your faces only mere centimeters from the other.

“That’s not all you can do.”

Sneaking out of the party was the easy part, it was the finding a place where the two of you could be alone long enough to make anything happen that was the difficult part.

Ducking and weaving through hallways and doors – all led by Chan who had the better understanding of the area in which the two of you were now navigating, he dragged you around by the hand in an attempt to find a place that he could have you. Away from prying eyes. Just you and him. And from the grip he had on you, and the information he had divulged to you previously, his intent to completely devour you once the opportunity arose was ever present, and lended itself to a dull throb between your legs already – the man hadn’t even touched you yet.

“I know,” he whispers, darting around a corner and looking down a hallway to make sure that no one will spot you, “I have just the spot.”

“Ooh, so exciting,” you tease, but it’s only seconds later that Chan has his weight pressed against you, your back to the wall and chest to chest – lips just barely missing your own – and the bratty attitude is swept from you in an instant and replaced with unfathomable desire.

“Or I could just have you right here,” he whispers against your ear, hooking one of his hands up under your knee and granting his hips space between your legs against the wall – and you can already feel the tenting in his pants at simply the prospect of getting his dick wet again after so long.

It’s hard to tell him 'no’ to the idea, but thankfully you don’t have to, Chan knowing it being a poor one as he smiles and pulls himself off of you only to once again pull you towards an unidentified place that the man has mapped out in his mind.

You’re thankful that it’s only a few more twists and turns down halls before Chan looks around and opens a door to a room, hurrying you inside of it and closing it behind with a 'clink’ sound of the lock. the room is pitch black in darkness and Chan had already let go of you once ushering you into the doorway, but it’s not long before you feel his essence – the feeling of his hands softly grazing your hips and causing the fabric to bunch up at your lower back as his hands slide in the direction. Your behind meets a table at his insistence in pushing you only a couple of steps towards it, and the mans hands creep back down to the outsides of your thighs, only to slide up again and hoist you onto the table.

Chan hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, and it’s the first time that he finally, after what feels like a fucking eternity, presses his mouth against your own. Kisses that at first start out gentle and experimental, quickly devolve into needy and sloppy – and mostly from his end. It’s easy to tell that he is quickly becoming unraveled, and the thought of it only intensifies the dull ache already present between your legs. Slowly pulling the fabric from your legs, he carefully pries them open by the knees and settles himself between – pulling your body as flush as possible into his as he kisses deeper, harder into your mouth. An attempt to taste every bit of you that he can, no doubt, and the absolutely intoxicating feeling of unbridled desire for you making your head spin. Chan was losing himself in you, and quickly.

It had been a long time, and he was going to ruin you.

Pressing one hand up against your face, fingers slightly woven into your hair to pull you harder into his mouth, the other hand quickly dips down in the space between himself, and the apex of your thighs. One, lone, fingertip gently pressing against your folds and it’s not only the whimper that escapes your lips and is quickly swallowed by him that makes him grin, but the physical desire for him dripping from you, as well.

“Good to know I wasn’t the only one dying for it,” he whispers into your lips as he begins slow circles right above your clit. “You might not walk out of here when I’m finished with you.”

The words cause an involuntary reaction, that surely he’d have felt had he been inside of you already, and you’re sort of glad he isn’t just for the sake of being able to get away with how absolutely, catastrophically, horny just the idea of it was making you.

And bless his heart, the fact that he’s only able to make a few circles into your pussy by hand before he’s pawing at the front of his own pants in an attempt to free himself and finally have what he’s been wanting all this time. He makes quick work of his confines for a man not necessarily practiced in the arts of having a quick fuck in a dark office, so it’s impressive – almost as impressive as what he has to show for himself when he pulls his length from his boxer briefs.

Chan’s kisses get sloppier by the second now as you feel him lazily stroking himself by hand against your sopping wet pussy, the head of his cock prodding between your folds and up against the entrance to your cunt as he shallowly presses into you, but never enough to enter much at all, and you don’t want to beg for it – well, you do – but you won’t. Maybe.

“Do you have a condom?” you finally whisper, pushing to the side one of the computer mice to illuminate the room slightly with a turned on monitor screen.

“No,” he responds, peppering kisses along your jaw, but pulling back his hips from you just slightly.

“Okay.”

“Should I stop?”

“I said 'okay.'”

“Yeah but you said it as like, an acknowledgment.”

“Chris, I said okay!”

“Okay, okay!”

It feels almost like a brutal display of force, the way he digs fingers into your thighs from the underside and pulls your hips towards his – the edge of your ass just barely hanging onto the edge of the table as Chan lines the head of his cock up with you and not-as-slowly-as-he-probably-should presses in – one arm wrapped around your waist for leverage and the other hand placed firmly onto the table – it makes your head spin, the burning stretch of him forcing  your body to accommodate his, all the while kissing you deeply, passionately. The juxtaposition of Chan’s primal urges, his innate desire to have you, to be inside of you, to fuck you, compared to the whimpers that drop from his mouth at the way you’re so snug around his length, so warm and wet – a feeling he had almost completely forgotten in all of the time he hadn’t had it. So enveloping and all consuming in the moment.

When Chan finally bottoms out inside of you, it’s a hiss of “fuck, so tight,” and in your mind you think that it could be that, or combined with his substantial girth – the way you can feel every wall and muscle inside of you tugged and pushed with every movement he makes within you even in spite of your wetness. You don’t care to understand the how’s or the why’s necessarily – it doesn’t matter – what matters, is that you might be close already just from the way his cock relentlessly pulls at your g-spot with every motion, but you’re thankful when Chan seemingly begins to lose the will to be kind with his motions, and instead chooses to chase his own high with abandon – as thankfully for you, it’s precisely what you need to get there.

Chan brings a hand up, pushing you to lean back on your own elbows in an almost lying position now, hooking his hand under your shoulder for leverage to pull your body down and onto his cock harder. He’s losing himself in the moment, in your body, and it feels good watching him do it. Listening to, and now with the smallest amount of light in the room – watching him pant and grit his teeth at every throb and squeeze of your walls around him – nothing was sexier than a man fully lost in the moment of desiring you, and Chan was fully lost – the only thing bringing him back now, was the crash of his peak, which you are happy to accommodate, of course.

But as much as you were enjoying the show, his relentless fucking into you quickly brought you towards your own peak, where normally you were able to meet him with playful comments now the only sounds dropping from you pathetic whimpers and cusses – and his name, of course, which met you with a particular crash of his hips and a growl through gritted teeth.

“F-feel so good,” you whine, feeling the beginnings of your muscles tightening and knowing that he can feel the same with the way his eyebrows furrow tightly and his button lip pulls between teeth. Chan hisses at the feeling of your impending orgasm and the look on his face – beautiful brown eyes up through eyelashes and a weakened state, Chan is almost disappointed – knowing that your orgasm will inevitably be his own downfall, as well.

“Close?” he responds, knowing the answer, and you nod – allowing your head to drop back, only for Chan to pull you back to look towards him, pressing his forehead to your own as he continues his relentless pace into you. “Where do you want it?”

“In-insi—” you whimper again, unable to even finish the word. Chan takes the time to drag kisses down your lips, to your jaw, and it’s that moment that you truly break any sanity that he had maintained through the encounter.

“You w-wanted me, so have me.”

You know that he knows it’s in reference to his coming inside of you, that the distinction doesn’t have to be made in the moment, and it’s all in good fun, of course, driving him absolutely mad with only a few words. That’s the joy of it, after all.

The effect is immediate, as expected, as Chan pulls you tight into him and fucks into you at a relentless pace, chasing his orgasm without any other single thought occupying space in his mind. The only thing he can think about now is filling you with his cum, and that’s all by design, of course.

Luckily, the angle at which he has you immovable is one that works exquisitely well for you, rubbing at your g-spot and pulling at your clit in just the right ways that you’re babbling and on the brink of tears in orgasm well before even he is. A chant of asking you to come for him, come on him, and you’re gripping down and attempting not to cry out at the waves of release crashing over you – Chan fucking you all of the way through it before he finally reaches his own right after you – painting your walls with his cum and continuing to fuck his release into you, albeit gently, even well after he finishes and begins to soften inside of you.

It’s a long few minutes before he pulls away from you – out of you, gently tucking his overstimulated cock back into his clothing with a wince and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before bending down and helping pull your panties back up your legs and into place.

Chan stays there, nestled between your legs and on his knees, arms crossed with elbows anchoring him on either side of your knee as he gazes up in awe at your beautifully fucked out state of being. For a moment, it’s hard to even imagine the same man being that animalistic, that primal, as he just was only a few minutes before.

But duality is sexy, after all.

“You’ll have to let me do a better job next time,” he smiles innocently from between your knees, head slightly cocked to the side.

There’s a lot of good things packed into that one, extremely short sentence, but figure you’ll address the most pressing of them first.

“A better job…?” you ask, intrigued.

“Yeah,” he replies, pulling his arms back and gently prying your legs apart again to make space for him to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, and you hate the way it’s already making you hot for him again.

“There’s so much more I’m going to do to you.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[megalony]

Home Invasion

This is an Eddie x Buck x deaf! Reader imagine based on an anon request and I hope you will all like it. I will be doing a follow up part soon too. Feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream

911 Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: When Eddie and Evan are at work, someone breaks into their home and (Y/n) ends up being attacked.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When (Y/n) walked through the hallway towards the kitchen, a tender smile tugged at her lips and her footsteps slowed as she walked through the kitchen doorway.

Reaching her hand out, she dragged her fingertips delicately across the whiteboard pinned to the wall next to the door. The large whiteboard had many small, laminated squares of paper blue tacced to the top of the board in two rows. Each square had a diagram on with writing beneath it and there was a plastic pocket taped to the corner of the board with hundreds more squares stuffed inside.

The board was for Chris.

With his cerebal palsy, Chris was finding it hard to learn and perform sign language. He needed more ways to communicate with (Y/n) when his signs were shaky at best and it took him a long time to form one sentence using sign.

So they got a white board with hundreds of diagrams and words such as morning, hello, dinner, out, car and other vocabs so Chris could string a sentence together for (Y/n) to read. They also had a large laminate poster stuck next to the white board to help remind Chris of simple signs he could use.

Both Eddie and Evan had mastered their sign language courses the moment the three of them got into a relationship together.

(Y/n) could speak, but since she couldn't hear her own voice, she never knew if she was pronouncing words properly, if she was being too loud or too quiet or if she was muttering rather than speaking. Talking made her self-conscious and unsettled and she preferred to use sign language. But Chris was slowly coaxing her out of her shell because he was working on his words and pronouncing too so it was like they were learning together.

And if Chris spoke slowly and tried to keep his lips clear and fluent, (Y/n) was learning to read his lips. His cerebal palsy gave Chris a different way of moving his lips and pronouncing so for (Y/n) it was like learning a new language. But starting to understand Chris's speech meant he didn't always have to try and use sign language. As long as she could understand him and he could understand her signs, they would be able to communicate well together.

A twinkling smile lit up (Y/n)'s face when she looked down at the whiteboard and read the two words scribbled along the centre which was definitely Evan's handwriting.

'Love You!'

(Y/n) smiled to herself as she walked over towards the sink and grabbed herself a cup. She flicked the kettle on and leaned her forearms down on the counter, waiting for it to boil.

It always felt strange to be home alone without any of her boys. Both Evan and Eddie were at work and Chris was at school. (Y/n) never knew what to do with herself when the house work had all been done and she had nowhere to be and no work to be catching up on.

Watching movies weren't as fun without the boys fighting over popcorn and throwing it around the room. (Y/n) figured she could do some art while she had the house to herself with the tv on as a background image to keep her mind occupied.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and slowly trailed from the kitchen through to the dining room. Setting her cup down in the middle of the table, (Y/n) moved towards the cupboard at the far end where she and Chris had their craft boxes.

But just as she kneeled down and went to grab her dark blue plastic box, something caught her attention out the corner of her eye.

(Y/n) turned her head to the left and leaned forward, but she wasn't sure what she had seen, or what she thought she had seen for a fleeting moment.

Her brows narrowed but after a few seconds passed, (Y/n) let out the breath she had been keeping in and turned her sights back to the box in front of her. Maybe she had left the tv on in the living room and the changing colours caught her perceptive gaze. Maybe she had left a window open and the breeze was moving the curtains.

Box in hand, she stood up and moved back to the table and started to rummage through for her paints and a fresh canvas. Evan's birthday was coming up and (Y/n) wanted to make something to go along with the adventure course she and Eddie had booked for him to go on.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body when, just as she had a bottle of paint in each hand, she felt something tangle in her hair.

A hand.

Sharp nails scratched into her scalp. Fingers curled tightly into her locks. Knuckles pressed harshly into her scalp and the force sent her head jolting forward. The movement sent a shockwave running down the base of (Y/n)'s spine and something burned at the back of her throat.

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes as her breaths started to run away without her.

Somebody was in the house.

Both her guys were at work and Chris was at school. No one else should be home except for (Y/n) and she had locked the door when she came home from taking Chris to school.

Someone had broken into their home. And (Y/n) hadn't heard them.

She wasn't sure whether she screamed or if she only made a whimpering sound but all the air pushed past her lips as her hands dropped the tubes of paint onto the table. She flung her arms out behind her and tried to scratch her assailant's arm and thrust her elbow behind her, aiming for whatever she could reach to unarm and hurt them.

Now (Y/n) was beginning to wish she had taken some kind of self defence class or at least joined Eddie and Evan when they went to the gym.

Her eyes snapped shut in panic and (Y/n) tried in the split second she had to brace herself when the hand tightened in her hair and she felt their arm pin down into her back. Whoever was behind her thrust her forward so hard and fast that her forehead bashed into the table, scattering the paints until they rolled onto the floor and (Y/n) could see stars twinkling behind her eyelids.

A roaring scream left her lips and she could feel her throat and lips vibrating from the action as her knees caved and she let go of the assailant to brace her hands on the table and hold herself up.

Tears burned down her face like acid rain and when she felt like he was going to smash her head into the table again, (Y/n) tried to push all her weight back and thrust her head back. She moved until the back of her head hit his chest and winded him enough for him to let go.

She needed to get her phone. She had to grab her phone and get out the house.

(Y/n) pushed herself up onto shaking legs and tried her best to bolt. Her hands grabbed one of the chairs and propelled herself forward while she tipped the chair behind her to try and trip him up and add some distance between them. She used the wall as leverage to push ahead and stop from falling when her knees started to buckle and her body felt desperate to collapse down to the floor.

Why couldn't she have been out when this happened? Why couldn't she be out for a walk or at the shops or even visiting her boys down at the station? Why did someone have to pick their house to rob and at the exact time that (Y/n) was home by herself?

She wasn't sure whether she said no or whether she just screamed something similar when the same rough hands clamped down on her arms and yanked her backwards.

She writhed from side to side, screaming as loudly as she thought she could just in case anyone walked past the house or the neighbours could hear her. It might make the burglar think she could hear him if she was screaming. (Y/n) had no idea if he would target her more if he found out she couldn't hear and could barely pronounce properly.

Her arms thwarted out but she couldn't block off the man's fist when he punched her in her lower chest, effectively knocking all the wind out of her and sending her down to the floor.

Where was her phone? Where had she left it? Surely it had to be close by now that she was in the living room.

Her heart plummeted down into her stomach when her eyes locked on the man as he reached out and grabbed the lamp from the side table. Was he going to try and hit her with that? With the right amount of force to her head he could kill her.

She rolled onto her stomach, scraped her feet against the floor and tried to push up again. Her body slumped over the arm of the sofa and she managed to curl her fingers around her phone before her eyes bulged in their sockets and her head started to thud.

He wrapped the lamp cord around her neck.

She couldn't breathe. The blow to her stomach had restarted her lungs which were gasping for air but now with a thin but strong white cord around her neck pressing into her trachea, she wasn't able to breathe at all. She scratched her nails into her neck deep enough to draw blood when she tried to pull the cord away from her throat and lean back into the man as much as she could to relieve the pressure.

Tears streamed down her face, her lower lip wobbled and her jaw clicked as she gasped. Every nerve ignited with terror and her head felt like it was swelling up with air and about to burst.

She wanted her boys. What would they do? Who was she kidding, Eddie and Evan were double her size and weight, they would have no problem fighting someone off and pinning down their assailant.

All (Y/n) could do was try and throw her head back enough to catch him off guard and keep pushing him back with her dwindling energy. She couldn't stop fighting, she had to keep moving. It didn't matter how much energy and oxygen she wasted. Moving was a better option than pretending to faint and hoping in vain that he might not choke her to death.

Her minimal force seemed to prove worthy when she knocked her attacker off balance and her fingers wormed in between her neck and the cord to allow her to pull it off her neck.

Sucking in a deep breath clouded (Y/n)'s better judgement and stopped her from bolting forward. One step and she would have been able to reach for her phone. But with her eyes blocked by white spots and her lungs heaving, she stopped moving.

Hands grabbed at her arms and a body pushed against her back, sending her falling forward.

She knew she screamed that time. Her body fell through the air and her arms coiled into her chest, hands smothering her face for protection when she landed on the coffee table. (Y/n) couldn't tell whether he had fallen into her but managed to stay standing or if he simply pushed her with all his might. Either way, (Y/n)'s shuddering body broke clear through the glass coffee table.

Her whole right side burned and bounced back off the metal legs and frame of the table. Glass splintered into her skin and imbedded into every inch of her right arm, her neck, forehead and her exposed leg.

When her head smashed into one of the metal legs, everything turned black.

***

"Eddie, Buck, my office please."

Eddie's head turned to the right and his hand tightened around Evan's shoulder when Bobby's voice hit his ears.

What had they done?

He didn't like the look in Bobby's eyes or the way he didn't wait for them, he simply turned on his heels and steam-marched towards his office, knowing they would follow in his shadow.

They hadn't done anything to warrant a private chat in the Captain's office. They weren't messing about or not doing their share of the chores around the station and they had done everything as normal on shift today. Neither of them were being unprofessional either. It was in their agreement with Bobby that they were still able to work together and be on the same shifts together, as long as they remained professional. Their relationship couldn't interfere with their work and they both made sure it never did.

Unease rattled through Evan as he grabbed his shirt from the bench and hurriedly slipped it over his head, folding his arms through the sleeves while he jogged to keep pace with Eddie and follow Bobby.

"Everything okay Cap?" Evan finished up the buttons on his shirt before he settled his hands on his hips. Neither he nor Eddie went to sit down because Bobby wasn't sat behind his desk. He was stood to the side of his desk, one hip jutted out against the corner with his hands tense and stretching at his sides.

If Bobby wasn't sat down, he wasn't very comfortable and that meant this wasn't a friendly chat.

"I've had Athena on the phone, there's been a situation at your house. You both needed to go home."

The pair shared a panicked, nervous look between them before they looked back at Bobby. What the Hell did that mean? What kind of situation? Did they have a fire, a gas leak? A flood? (Y/n) was supposed to be home today, was she alright?

"Uh, what… what kind of situation?" Evan wasn't sure he really wanted to ask but they couldn't go home until they had all the details.

"You've had a break-in."

"But (Y/n)'s at home. Was she hurt?" All of Eddie's muscles tensed up until they felt like elastic bands that were going to snap. He could feel goosebumps prickling across his skin and all the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up on end.

"She was attacked, Athena said she won't let the medics near her, you both have to go now."

Before Bobby could usher his hands towards the door, Eddie was out the door and halfway down the corridor. His shoulders squared and rose up, his jaw locked so tightly his teeth were grinding down together and his hands were curled up into fists at his sides, desperate to pummel into anything within range.

Someone had broken into their home and attacked their girlfriend. Whoever it was needed to be found and kept away from Eddie before he killed him. (Y/n) wasn't a threat by any means, she was deaf and that made her vulnerable. Someone had gone and attacked her and neither Eddie or Evan knew how badly she had been hurt. They were lucky she hadn't been taken hostage or rushed down to the emergency care unit.

Evan didn't know what to say when the pair of them stormed out into the parking lot and Eddie jumped in the driver's seat of the jeep. He wasn't in the right frame of mind to drive, but Evan didn't have the heart to tell him to switch. He wasn't so sure he would be much better, when his mind wasn't focused he didn't pay attention when he was driving and he could space out. At least Eddie would remained focused and alert.

Evan clenched his hands together and leaned forward, pressing his knuckles against his lips to try and give him something to focus on but he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Do you think she's okay?"

"Don't." Eddie dug his fingers into the back of his head and scrunched up the short hairs in his fist, tugging until his nails scratched into his scalp. He wasn't having this conversation, not until they saw (Y/n) for themselves and knew exactly what they were walking into.

"She might be-"

"Buck! Look, if they haven't managed to get her to the hospital then she's awake and alert. That's a good thing, focus on that." Suddenly Eddie felt like he had told Chris off rather than having a conversation with his partner and when he glanced over, he saw the stern expression on Evan's face. And the flames burning within his blue eyes.

He reached across after a second thought and curled his hand around Evan's thigh, trying to apologise and give him some comfort at the same time.

Neither of them felt good when they pulled up in the drive. Two police cars and an ambulance were parked out front and the front door was swung wide open.

"Athena!" Evan jumped down from the jeep and bolted across the lawn to reach the woman he classed as a motherly figure. She was stood in the doorway, clearly waiting for their arrival with apprehension in her eyes and her signature sunglasses perched on top of her head.

"What happened?" Eddie pressed a hand to Evan's shoulder and side stepped round him to push his way through the door. He didn't like the look of all these officers floating about his home. There was a gurney laid useless behind the armchair and when he stumbled forward, he noticed the two paramedics knelt down on the floor, getting no where near (Y/n) no matter what they tried to do.

"The perp broke in through the back window, from what I can gather, (Y/n) must have caught him in the act. She put up a good fight. Your neighbour called when she found the front door wide open… (Y/n) won't let any of us near her."

Panic bubbled up in Evan's chest when he took in the state of their home, following Eddie into the living room.

The lamp was broken on the floor next to the sofa, a large dint in the shade and the bulb fractured on the laminate floor. Pictures were knocked onto the floor, pens and paint bottles were scattered in the hallway. And the coffee table was a mess.

Only the dark metallic structure of the coffee table was left standing. The glass counter was blown into millions of tiny shards littered all around the floor. Along with a broken mug, a tub of pens, a magazine and the tv remotes all merged in with the glass. But what caught Evan's eye was the puddle of blood right in the centre of the coffee table. Little crimson raindrops scattered across the glass and led a trail across the floor towards the far window.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Eddie crouched down on the floor, trying to be mindful of the blood splatters and fractured pieces of glass surrounding them.

He held his hands out in front of him and waited until (Y/n) lifted her head so she could see he wasn't some stranger trying to hurt her or move her against her will. He could see the paramedics had given up trying. They were sat in front of the tv with their medic bags at their sides, unable to do anything because they couldn't treat (Y/n) against her will no matter what injuries she had.

Tears stained her face but even more flooded her face when she looked up and realised the two people she had been crying for were finally here in front of her.

When Evan knelt down on her right, (Y/n) dropped her knees down to the floor and let her body fall into him. Her head tucked into his chest, her arms stayed cocooned against her chest and a horrid scream left her lips as she started to hyperventilate.

"Shh, oh sweetheart, shhh." Evan wrapped his left arm around her waist and curled his right arm over her chest with his hand cupping her chin. This thumb smoothed across her jaw and lips and his fingers splayed out on her cheek as he tilted his head down and smothered his lips against the top of her head. He knew she would be able to feel his voice vibrate against her skin when he hushed her. He gently swayed them back and forth, brushing his thumb soothingly against her lip and chin.

Her eyes snapped open and for a second her body pushed back into Evan when a tender hand rested on her knee but she realised it was just Eddie trying to get her attention. He needed her eyes open and focused so they could talk.

Eddie waved his index finger in front of his eye before he pointed at his chest.

Eyes on me.

He curled his fingers into a fist except for his index fingers and held his hands in front of his chest, moving his hands together and back like magnets repelling each other before he pointed at (Y/n) and spoke as he signed. "Are you hurt?"

When she nodded, Eddie's chest tightened and he knelt up straighter while he tried to control his expression and remain calm as if he were on the job. But call outs were never this personal.

"Let me see." He pointed at his chest before he pointed at his eyes and moved his finger from his eye towards (Y/n). He had to see what injuries she had so he could help her. She wasn't going to let anyone else near her and for now, she was wrapped up in Evan's arms which would make her feel safer and calm. And if it was Eddie who was patching her up since he was a medic, she would let him help her.

(Y/n)'s chest shook and hitched with each breath before she uncurled her arms from her chest and held them out towards Eddie like she was waiting for him to slap handcuffs on her. She didn't like the way his shoulders slumped and how he bit his teeth deeply into his lower lip with a grimace.

Before Eddie could reach out for her hands, (Y/n) lifted her shaking hands up to sign.

She pointed her index finger out and waved it up and down before she held both her palms out and moved her hands from her chest out in front of her in a forward motion, then finally pointed her finger at her chest.

He pushed me.

When she started to point and shake her hand, Eddie jumped when he heard Evan growl like an animal. Eddie snapped his head round to see what she was pointing at, thinking for a moment that the assailant was somehow back in the room with them. But then it dawned on him. She was pointing and looking at the coffee table. He had pushed her into the table.

"Check her arm, she's bleeding onto my trousers." Evan's voice was an octave deeper than usual and his breaths were coming out harsh and forced.

He didn't lift his head from (Y/n)'s hair and spoke into the top of her head while he continued to rock back and forth, something Eddie guessed was to calm him down more than (Y/n).

Reaching out, Eddie gently cupped (Y/n)'s wrists and pulled them to rest her hands down on his thighs so he could examine her.

"I'm a medic, I need your equipment. Now." Eddie clicked his fingers behind him towards one of the medics and waited impatiently for them to set the bag down by his leg.

(Y/n) had a deep gash down her arm just below her elbow which stretched down towards her wrist and Eddie could see little pieces of glass imbedded into her skin. He needed to tie a turniquet around her arm to cut off the circulation because Evan was right, the blood was pooling down onto his trousers and had been bleeding out for a while. She might have nicked a big artery or vein in her arm and they couldn't have her bleeding out.

Rummaging through the medic bag, Eddie found a deep blue turniquet band that he laid out on his lap before he looked up at (Y/n). He held his left hand out and made a grabbing fist before he stretched his hands out, stuck his thumb and pinkies out on each hand and shook them side to side.

Hold still.

Eddie slipped the band an inch higher than (Y/n)'s elbow and popped the button into the pin hole as tight as he could until the band bit into her flesh and she winced. It had to be tight to cut off the circulation.

Once that was done, Eddie grabbed a pair of tweezers from the bag and began plucking small shards of glass from around the wound. He was relieved only a few little pieces had imbedded into her arm but he knew a doctor would have to take a closer look so they didn't stitch her up with glass still stuck in the wound.

Evan rolled his lips together and began smoothing his thumb up and down (Y/n)'s jaw when she pushed back into his chest and began to cry harder. Her body shook when Eddie poured saline over the wound and cleansed it with an anticeptic wipe.

"There we go," He mumbled quietly when he packed gauze against the wound and wrapped a roll of bandage around her forearm.

With a deep breath, Evan moved his head down to brush his nose against (Y/n)'s cheek and his eyes followed her right hand when she motioned her finger up and down near her waist. She'd hurt her leg. He moved his hands to cup (Y/n)'s hips and he gently eased her back into his chest while Eddie held the back of her knees and slowly straightened her legs out so he could assess them.

Shuffling forward beside (Y/n)'s legs, Eddie carefully cupped (Y/n)'s face and tilted her head down so he could check the cut on the right side of her temple. It didn't look to have any glass stuck in it and it wasn't deep enough to require stitches. But just as Eddie smile and kissed her cheek, his smile faded and he pressed his fingers beneath (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head back until the back of her head was pressed against Evan's shoulder.

"Did he strange you?" Eddie's voice shook and he was glad (Y/n) couldn't hear the tremor in his tone while he hovered his right hand over his neck.

Pulling back, Evan leaned around to look down at (Y/n)'s neck and tears welled in his eyes when he noticed the thin, discoloured line around her neck. And his eyes followed (Y/n)'s hand as she held it up, pressed her fingertips against her thumb then flicked her fingers out.

Lamp.

He'd strangled her with the lamp wire.

"We're taking you to hospital." Eddie pressed his index and middle finger to his shoulder and swiped his fingertips down his arm in a straight line, then a sideways line across for the hospital symbol.

***

Evan pulled his shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair before he turned around to face the bed. A tender smile formed on his lips and he moved to stand near the end of the bed to face (Y/n) who was perched cross-legged in the middle of the bed.

"I have to go to work now, baby." He curled his hands into fists, held his left hand out and moved his right fist in a circular motion above his hand before he brought his fist down to rest on his left wrist. The sign for work.

He watched (Y/n) push up onto her knees and crawl across to the end of the bed where he was standing. His lips curved up when (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the middle of his chest. The sudden affection was more than welcome and Evan buried his face in the top of her head, breathing in her scent as his palms pressed down on her lower back. His elbows bedded into her waist and he moved to press his cheek against her hair.

He could feel the bandage on her arm rubbing against his neck and it made him shiver. Eddie had wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm every day for the past four days since the incident because (Y/n) had started to scratch the stitches absentmindedly when they itched and she was at the point of tearing them out. A bandage was the only way to stop her from making the wound worse.

When (Y/n) pulled back and tilted her head up, Evan moved his hands from her waist to cup her neck, his thumbs brushing across her jaw before he leaned down to steal a kiss.

He sucked her lip between his teeth and gave a sharp tug, relishing in the way her fingers suddenly dug down into his back.

Evan pulled back when (Y/n) scratched her nails into his back and nuzzled her nose against his before she unravelled her arms from his neck. She shuffled back a small pace so she could hold her arms out in front of her and Evan's face softened as he went back to cupping her hips instead. Waiting patiently for her to sign something to him.

Her hands held out in front of her with her index fingers pointed out and she raised her arms up to her chest, and then tapped her chest. Her hands then curled into fists with her thumbs stuck up as she rubbed her clenched fingers together. Then finally tapped the end of her finger into Evan's chest.

Can I come with you.

Evan's brows creased and his smile started to fade. Why did she suddenly want to come down to the station with him? He was going on shift, not going out to see the team for a night out. And Eddie was still on shift, he would be finished in two hours and would be on his way home to her.

"Why?" Pressing his fingertips to his temple, Evan then pulled his hand down and curled his fingers, leaving his thumb and pinky sticking out.

(Y/n) gulped loudly, flitting her eyes around until they settled on staring at Evan's chest as her fingers curled and she rubbed her hand in a circular motion over her chest. 'Please.'

"Why, baby?" When she didn't answer, Evan's jaw tightened and his shoulders hunched. He stuck his thumb and pinky out again with the rest of his fingers curled up and pressed his curled fingers against his chin and then pulled his hand away. "What's wrong?"

Unease rattled through Evan when (Y/n) simply repeated the same thing again, without looking him in the eye. Deep down she had to know Evan wasn't going to say no to her but she also had to know that he needed to know what was wrong. He wasn't going to ignore this or pretend she was coming down to the station for a visit when he could see the panic bubbling up in her eyes.

Curling his thumb into his palm, Evan kept his hand straight with his fingers tense and waved his hand from his chin in an outward motion before he pointed at his chest. "Talk to me."

A trembling set in throughout (Y/n)'s body when Evan's hands went back to holding her hips and he tilted his chin down to look at her properly. He hated the panic in her eyes but not as much as (Y/n) hated what she was about to sign. She didn't want to admit what was rattling around in her head but the more she thought about it, the more her body started to shake and tears started to trace down the bridge of her nose.

Sticking her pinky out, she pressed her hand into her chest, then stuck her index and middle finger into a crooked position before bringing her arms up and crossing her wrists in front of her.

Tremors set in her body by the time she curled her ring finger beneath her middle finger, left her other fingers stretched out and rubbed her ring finger around her chest.

Tears burned in the corner of Evan's eyes when he watched his girl cross her arms over her chest with her hands on her shoulders, then uncrossed them and held her hands up by the sides of her head into clenched fists.

'I don't feel safe.'

(Y/n) let her arms flop across Evan's shoulders and wrap tightly around the back of his neck when he pulled her into his chest. His hand pressed tightly into her lower back and his other hand moved to cup the back of her thigh. In one swift motion, Evan lifted her up from the bed and hoisted her onto his hips. Pinching her thigh until she got the hint and wrapped her legs around his worso with her heels resting comfortably between his hips.

He pressed his lips to the side of her head, sighing against her skin before he peppered hundreds of kisses to her temple when she quivered and started to whimper into his neck.

He should have seen this coming.

He and Eddie had taken the last four days off work to be home with (Y/n), neither of them wanted to leave her when the moment they came home from the hospital, she had a panic attack on the doorstep.

They had spent the last few days calming her down, helping with the panic she felt whenever she caught something out the corner of her eye. They stopped her scratching her arm, held her when she cried and wedged her between them during the night so she wouldn't wake during the night feeling afraid.

But it didn't dawn on Evan that (Y/n) would be this panicked about being alone. Eddie would be home in just over two hours. They both thought that was a small amount of time and (Y/n) might be okay being alone until he came back. Clearly they had been wrong. They should have thought about this more and prepared for this situation happening.

Evan nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s cheek until she got the hint and lifted her head to look up at him.

"I'll keep you safe." He spoke slow enough that (Y/n) was able to read his lips so he didn't have to let go of her. He tightened his hand around her thigh and leaned forward, burying his face into her neck with his lips sucking a mark into her skin.

He would keep her safe. He and Eddie would look after her and make sure nothing bad ever happened to her again. They hadn't been here when she got hurt the first time, but they weren't making that mistake again. And Evan knew they couldn't stay with (Y/n) twenty-four seven no matter how hard they tried, but they would do their best.

For now, Evan would take her with him to work and she could wait at the station until Eddie's shift finished and she could go home with him.

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 4)

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Happy SunSinday! I really hope you like this. Thank you to @sugoi-writes for treating me to the coffee that helped me power through this. I’ll need like, atleast half a day of no writing to recover the mental exhaustion 😂 I’ll be back Monday to catch-up on all the comments and inbox from the last 2 days!

Lucifer lets fate decide how he and Alastor will show their dear kitten their teamwork skills.

「warnings/promises apply to both routes: RadioApple x FemReader, threesome, Lucifer x Alastor anal, p in v, soft breeding kink, Luci calls himself Daddy, biting, choose your own adventure, heaven ain’t got shit on Luci, fingering, tentacle fucking, cuddling, creampies, cum fucking, lots of deer references partially because of @n-after-me’s latest fic, sweet words, Happy Luci」

Deer Duck Kitten

Finally. You finally had both men in a place where you could enjoy each other as a group, instead of just you getting fucked by two people at the same time. 

You had half recovered from your hangover by early afternoon, but the little slip you made earlier in the day was just causing a new headache to emerge.

When the men both questioned what exactly you had meant, you decided the best option was to take your own advice and shut the fuck up. So shut the fuck up you did, for a solid three hours, while lying in your bed face down.

New problem now. Perfect. 10/10, you suck. 

Alastor and Luci were huddled in a corner of the lobby, two arm chairs pulled together and facing away from the others.

To Alastor, you had said something unspoken until then. The only difference that he could see was his …embracing of Lucifer’s inclusion in your relationship.

Lucifer was partially blind, the stars orbiting his head shining too brightly for him to see or think properly.

“Was that normal?” Lucifer asked.

“Not for us, no.” 

Lucifer, unblinking, “It’s too soon for sure for us.”

Alastor’s static aura flickered, “Obviously.” Lucifer glared.

“She’s obviously happy we got along so…well?” 

Alastor nodded.

“So let’s show her our teamwork in action! Let’s take care of her. Together.” He winked, making Alastor grimace.

“Take care of her how? Because she’s sick?” You were still hungover.

“No… take care of her.” Lucifer’s brows rose up and down, saying the words a little louder.

The air around Alastor snapped, a crackle of static returning, “I’m not deaf, I just don’t understand what secret meaning you’re hinting at.”

The normally patient and polite king’s face scrunched before he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and pulled him close, seething, “Take care of her. In bed. Sex. Fuck her.”

Alastor scowled, dark gums peaking past his lips, “We do that nearly nightly in some fashion, your majesty.”

Nose pressed to nose, forehead to forehead, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

While what they were saying wasn’t audible, Angel was adding his own narration to the video he was taking, “I’m gonna fuck you, Radio Demon.” He attempted a regal voice. “Not if I fuck you first! ha ha ha,” His best shot at a trans-Atlantic accent.

“You’re insufferable. Just speak plainly!”

Lucifer opened his mouth to reply but instead of words, a choked noise as he turned his face away. A deep blush now rising up his neck to his cheeks. A flash of a memory of Alastor’s dark eyes looking down at him over his wet body, stomach bulging with every thrust. Could he really say it out loud?

“Oh.” Alastor sat back in his chair, “She and I haven’t…” he searched for a delicate word, “Explored other avenues.”

Now who wasn’t speaking plainly?

“Well we could rearrange the order a little.” Lucifer sandwiched his hands together in hopes he could keep the details unspoken.

Alastor hummed, “Who would be in the middle, so to speak, if not my-”

“Our.” Lucifer cut him off.

A sinister snarl of a grin, “-dear.”

Lucifer put out a fist, “Did you know rock paper scissors or are you too old timey for that?”

“Loser has to hold open their gaping hole and-,” Angel jumped and nearly dropped his phone when Charlie bounced up beside him.

“Awww Dad and Al are playing games together!”

He snickered, tears forming in his eyes, “Yeah like tugga war and hide the pickle.”

“I think it’s called tug-of-war, Angel.”

Angel patted her on the head and turned to flee, “Good catch, princess. Nothin’ gets by you.”

They couldn’t decide who would knock, so both did. You weren’t ready for the conversation yet, having to explain it was just an expression and not intended to be a declaration. You and Alastor used many other words instead; my beloved, I adore you, my love. You had found comfort in the steadiness of his adoration, never a fear he would leave so you never worried much at the lack of direct ‘I love you’.

But …. Luci. You could see in his face how desperately he needed to be overshadowed with someone’s love. To be the one to eclipse all of his insecurities with a warm blanket of consistent affection? You’d die again for the opportunity. Just—- not yet. Certain words are meaningless without action. And you hadn’t done much more than cuddle and have sex. You needed to show him your love before you said anything about it. 

Another set of knocks. You whined, they didn’t deny you anything so how could you deny them? “What?”

“Kitten?” mixed with “Dear.” from outside the door.

You called them in, not watching as Luci beelined for the bed and Alastor closed and locked the door as quietly as possible to not bother you. 

“Does your head still hurt?” Lucifer slid up to your right side. You opened your eyes, turning your head to him. 

“No.”

He smiled. You felt the bed dip, Alastor settling to your left. 

“Are you feeling otherwise unwell?” Alastor asked. Rolling off your stomach to turn fully to Alastor now, surprised at the gentle conversation. You had anticipated an interrogation. 

“I’m fine now. Just don’t feel like moving much so… bed.” Luci’s hands slipped over your waist as he cuddled into your backside. You couldn’t help the smile you made. Alastor kissed your forehead, and your smile grew. Much more tender of an interaction than usual. Normal events involved you passed between the two, them taking turns with your attention when not actively having sex.

You were the little buffer between them. It always felt like they were trying to enjoy you without needing to realize the other demon existed in the room at all. 

Alastor made a show of taking his hand and sliding his fingers into Lucifer’s, resting on your waist. 

Manually breathing, you tried to keep your face neutral to not scare away the moment. 

Luci propped himself up and leaned over you. When Alastor leaned too, receiving a kiss from Luci on the lips you rolled onto your back. You’d never seen the Eiffel Tower from underneath but as you stared directly up as Lucifer kissed Alastor again, and again, you could imagine what it must be like to be under such a grand display. This was the first time you’d seen them intentionally touch each other… other than attempted murder. 

Did Lucifer win rock paper scissors? Cum here

Did Alastor win rock paper scissors? Smash this

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @slutforlucifermorningstar , @sarlaccussy , @saccharine-nectarine , @looking1016 ,@sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[mikashisus]

Light In The Darkness

summary: venti isn't often vulnerable with you, but the one time he is is when he needs a whole lot of reassurance. and you have no problem giving him just that: expressing just how much he means to you.

pairing: jealous!venti x gn!reader

cws: slight angst, hurt/comfort

notes: originally posted this a few hours ago but quickly realized that i made a mistake bc the req was for a jealous mc instead of venti 😭

so instead i’ll post two versions!! this one is the venti version, and the mc version will be posted hopefully tmrw!

wc: 2k

A bard was well-versed in all things poetry. It was their job to serenade those around them.

It was no surprise to you that your lover’s angelic voice touched the hearts of many. After all, that was his job— to sing and dance and play the lyre throughout all corners of the world, gaining popularity as he did so.

Sometimes, you thought the popularity got to his head a little. All those compliments and love struck looks from both men and women alike definitely stroked his ego to a degree.

He could do without all that praise, you thought, watching from afar as your lover sang a classic tale that was well known in Mondstadt. He gets enough praise from the church.

You were well aware he was the Anemo Archon. It was easy to put two and two together after taking a glance at the statue in the center of the city.

Tapping your fingers along to the classic tale, you failed to notice the figure of the Traveler approaching your all but empty table. Aether and Paimon greeted you eagerly, their faces a welcome sight after not having seen them in months.

A smile broke out onto your face instantly. You returned their sentiments, and the three of you fell into idle chatter about their recent journeys. Before long, you were laughing loudly like you always did when Aether came to visit.

He and Paimon were no strangers to the City of Freedom. They often stopped by for a visit around the festival seasons, though this year they had missed the annual Windblume Festival because of a music event in Inazuma.

You hounded them for missing the festival, though it was all lighthearted fun. You told them about Venti’s performance during the Windblume Festival, and how he gained the hearts of many afterwards.

“Wow, sounds like the Tone-Deaf Bard is doing as well as ever.” Paimon’s deadpan expression made you chuckle.

“Indeed. I think he could do without having his ego stroked all the time, but he really is an amazing performer, so I guess it’s alright.” You said.

Paimon huffed and crossed her arms. “Still! He should at least be a bit humble!” She tossed a glare in his direction. “Who knew the Anemo Archon could be so greedy!”

You sighed, a laugh tumbling out of your mouth. It was good to know that Paimon was the same as always. Aether looked just about ready to leave Paimon here, what with all her grumbling and complaining. You were happy to see them in good health.

An hour later, the two were bidding you farewell, claiming they had to knock some commissions for the Adventurer’s Guild out before sundown.

“Take care of yourselves, alright? If you need us, you know where to find us. Please do stop by sometime soon!” you told them with a smile, “Venti bought a vintage recently and we’ve been saving it for a special occasion. It would be the perfect time to break it open!”

“Sure thing!” Aether nodded with a kind smile. “See you around!”

You watched them leave with a small smile on your face before you directed your attention back to Venti. The bard was entertaining a group of drunkards, singing an old Mondstadt tale. It was one you’ve heard only a handful of times.

In the past, it was extremely popular in Mondstadt. However, as the years came and went, it grew to be forgotten amongst the people. As you watched Venti light up with life and rile up the patrons he was singing to, you realized he was doing his best to bring back those old, forgotten melodies.

The door to the tavern creaked open, and from your table near the bar, you could see Diluc take a huge sigh. That could only mean one thing…

“(Name)! Why, it’s quite the pleasure to see you here.” Kaeya’s smooth and charming voice entered your ears.

“Well if it isn’t Captain Kaeya!” You beamed, standing from your seat to give him a nice big hug.

It had been a few months since you’ve seen him last. The last time you saw him was four months ago when he left for Fontaine to speak with a few merchants there on behalf of the Knights of Favonius. Since then, your days were a little duller without his presence.

Though, the void left behind by your best friend was quickly filled by the affections from your lover.

Kaeya chuckled, the sound buzzing in your ear as you kept your head to his chest. “Miss me while I was gone? It’s not like you to get all emotional.”

You pulled from the hug and slapped his arm playfully. “Of course I missed you! Can I not miss my best friend?”

The two of you began catching up as Kaeya called for a few drinks. Diluc sent him a glare as he placed the drinks down on the table, warning him not to order too many, before he retreated back to the bar.

The more you talked and laughed with Kaeya, the more you realized just how much you missed him. It felt like the two of you were kids again, when the both of you were training to become knights and didn’t have to worry about anything at all.

All the while, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt the weight of divine eyes peering at you from afar. This was a feeling you commonly had; whenever you were on a commission for the Adventurer’s Guild, or more importantly, hanging out with Kaeya.

The feeling of a divine force watching you so closely was a little frightening, but knowing where the source was coming from made it less scary and more intriguing.

You knew what your lover’s divinity felt like by now after having been around him for so long. It was a slight pressure on your shoulders, a shiver running up your spine, and a soft breeze that mysteriously came from nowhere. It was quite ominous, though you supposed that word described him perfectly.

In these situations, you knew he was staring at you and Kaeya with that adorable pout on his face and waiting for the right time to pounce on you like a cat. Then, he’d drag you away and the two of you would cuddle and you would whisper words of affection in his ear to assure him how much you loved him and only him.

And so, you waited for the moment he’d interrupt your conversation.

Kaeya was always the type of best friend that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, and playfully flirted with you just because. He was loyal to a fault and not as honest as you wished he could be. But he had always been there for you, a light in the darkness when you needed him.

Gradually, over time, Venti filled that spot of being your light in the darkness, but no one could replace your best friend.

You and Kaeya had been inseparable in your youth, along with Diluc, who tagged along with you both. So, naturally, your bond was quite strong. It stayed that way between both of you even after he told you the truth of his origins.

As he opened his mouth— a teasing smile on his lips that made you realize he was about to ask how you and Venti were doing —your lover in question slid his arms around your neck and dug his face into your collarbone.

You caressed his arm lovingly and placed a kiss to the side of his head. You sighed, a dopey smile pulling at your lips. He was no doubt faking being drunk to pull you away from Kaeya.

“Hi my love,” you said sweetly, “did you drink too much?”

He grumbled into your skin, and that was enough to confirm he was only doing this because he wanted your attention all to himself. It made you laugh loudly, your chest bubbling with life as the sound rolled out of your mouth.

Venti couldn’t help but smile. He loved the sound of your laugh more than anything, especially when he was the cause of it. He adored bringing you happiness and joy. He adored hearing your melodic laugh. He gripped you tighter, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“Well, I think this is where our fun ends, Kaeya,” you told him with a smirk, “I should get this one home.”

He returned your look with a knowing one of his own. He was very familiar with Venti’s antics by now. “No worries. We’ll continue catching up another time. Be safe on the way back to Springvale.”

You ruffled his hair like you always did when you were children. “We will. Stop by sometime, you’re no stranger.”

Standing up, you removed Venti’s arms from around your neck and relocated them to your waist, knowing he wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.

Outside, the chilly nighttime air was refreshing on your hot skin. You ran your fingers through Venti’s hair and let out a content sigh.

“You know,” you started, a teasing lilt in your voice, “if you wanted my attention so badly, all you had to do was ask.”

Venti looked up at you with that adorable pout you were always so fond of. You cupped his face in your hands as he let out a small whine.

“Were you jealous, my love?”

Stubbornly, he looked away. “No—“

“Uh-huh, sure. I know how you get when you’re jealous.”

He bit his lip before all his worries came tumbling out of his mouth like a broken dam. “How can I not be? Kaeya’s always flirting with you and making you laugh! Sometimes I don’t know whether or not the way you smile at him is… is for something else.”

Venti was not one for being vulnerable. He absolutely despised sharing his true feelings, and preferred to bottle things deeply inside his person. For him to tell you how he felt in this moment was a huge step forward.

It not only meant he trusted you deeply, but it also made you realize that the effort you were helping him put in with his emotions was working. It touched your heart, but his words broke it all over again.

You kissed him, sweet and slow like he always enjoyed. When you pulled away, you placed your forehead on his and smiled.

“For you, I would go against the heavens and sooner make myself an enemy of the divine. I’d follow you to the edge of the world— hell, to the far reaches of the universe just because I love you. My heart and soul are yours, Barbatos.”

You could see it: the way he tried so hard to mask his sadness and how much he tried to avoid letting any tears spill. He inhaled shakily, squeezing his eyes shut in another attempt to deter his cries.

In the end, it was all futile, as the tears fell from his eyes like waterfalls anyway. This time, you waited for him to make the first move, and he did.

After a few moments, he searched for your lips and brought you into a slow, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that told you how much he appreciated your words, as well as one that so very obviously conveyed his undying love.

When he pulled away, he let out a small, sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry for that, love.” His cheeks were red with embarrassment.

“Don’t be,” you told him softly, forcing him to look at you, “Never be sorry for that. Thank you for sharing how you truly feel.”

He was eternally grateful to have you, someone so patient and understanding. He smiled, pressing a kiss to your palm that was on his cheek.

“I love you. To the far reaches of the universe and back.”

Hand in hand, you returned home, laughing all the while as he shared stories of the night’s events. Amidst the wind, he could hear both your hearts beating in unison.

notes: this was not supposed to be 2k words, this was supposed to be less than 1k but u guys know me by now, i always end up writing more when it comes to venti 😭 if u’d like to join my disc server to chat and hangout, u can do so here!

© 2024 mikashisus. do not copy, repost, or translate my works to any other platforms.