#empty boxes for sweets

[rocketbirdie]

PHEW THAT'S IT all the doomsday doodles are done!!!! thank you to everybody who submitted one and thank you for being so patient while I worked through them all!!

[scribbling-dragon]

sometimes I think about my years as a scout. and then wonder how im still alive/sane

[brandwhorestarscream]

I just realized that TL5 Megop completely inverts the "uwu babey nerd Orion and his buff jock gladiator boyfriend Megatronus" trope

Because

BECAUSE

Orion is actually the buff jock boyfriend and Megatronus is the quiet down-to-earth nerd. They've swapped roles. Orion would get into a knife fight at 2 a.m. over a stale muffin. Megatronus just very softly asks him to pretty please maybe reconsider armed combat over a three day old pastry 👉👈

It comes full circle

[ghcstcd]

Then: oh boy cool artist! I’ll leave a like or two.

Now: oh boy cool artist! Time to harass him in the comments and ask box with admiration and affection. The pretty boy agenda must reign supreme and I must give all the ghouls kissies (and a platonic kissy for u too if you accept)

[ritzy-cervidae]

♱ What do they think awaits them after death? (Of the 'stabbed by a holy weapon' sort of death!)

Send a symbol for a headcanon about my muse. All horror/angst/scifi related.

If Alastor dies of a holy weapon he thinks he'll just cease to exist.

[buychocolateboxesonline]

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[harshimpex]

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[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol.I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

vol. II

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

vol. II

[amaranthinespirit]

new neighbor!simon riley whom you bring cookies to as a way to welcome him to the neighborhood, so naturally he has to pay you back, right?

you'd seen the moving trucks pull up at the little house next door, peering through the frilly curtains that frame your window, pulling back the blinds to peek through the cracks at who this new neighbor is.

you couldn't get much of a glimpse, though you saw the tall, looming stature dressed in a dark void for clothes, and a mask over his head that made your tummy writhe with unease.

nonetheless, you turned to your kitchen and decided you'd make a housewarming gift. it was the nice thing to do after all!

so with a warmed plate of fresh cookies in your palms, you tediously stepped down the stones from your little abode to the sidewalk between yours and his new house. your shoes padded along the concrete before approaching his door.

a tender fist knocked knuckles against the firm door, an innocent glint in your eyes as you patiently waited for the man to open the door.

simon wasn't expecting anyone, hell, he hadn't even told anyone he had moved. his ears perked at the shallow knock, his socked feet padding against the wooden floors before peeking in the little peephole.

last thing he was expecting was a sweet little thing such as yourself to be waiting for a brute like him to answer the door, but he didn't want to keep you waiting much longer now.

with a creak, the door opened and revealed his daunting figure that towered over you. you felt his shadow cover you as you look up to him, mumbling a few measly words welcoming him to the neighborhood.

his face, more like his eyes, were stoic, but you noticed a slight crinkle in his skin, the mask shifting ever so slightly as a gruff voice responded to your words, "thanks, luv', why don'ya c'mon in?" he offered.

because the least he could do is invite you in for a cuppa, sit down and chat while you shared the plate of cookies over the island in the kitchen, right?

it felt sinful, leading a little doll like doe into his house, the door slowly creaking shut with a slight push. nonetheless, a large hand splayed across your lower back to guide you to the empty kitchen, boxes scattered along the floors.

your hands gripped the edge of the island tightly, your knuckles turning white as you bite back soft mewls. simon was kneeled, a hand pressing down on your back to keep your stomach against the counter, face buried in your sopping cunt. its compensation, lovie!

he groaned, slick drooling down his chin, nose buried in your pussy. the warm of his breath caused goosebumps to rise along your skin, his other hand full of fatty flesh from your plush rear, pulling the muscle aside to allow himself access to your sweet, drooling pussy.

you were so sweet, just like heaven, how could he refuse! besides, you were dripping for him anyways.

his lips latched to your folds, slurping up your slick with lewd squelches, teeth grazing your clit with soft nips as his tongue pushed past your walls.

your spongy walls contorted around the pink muscle as he coated your pussy in saliva, mumbling almost incoherently, "fuck, s'sweet, luvie. tastier than the damn sweets."

your knees trembled, buckling because of the pleasure as your walls pulsed around his tongue. a convulsing pattern as the heat in your tummy built with rising anticipation of ecstasy. your hips squirmed under him, but his strong hands manhandled you to how he wanted.

come on, lovie, you'll learn he needs quite a few sweets after having been deprived of them so long.

he'll take care of you, wipe you clean with a damp washcloth and throw a warm, definitely too big shirt fresh from the dryer over your body and convince you to stay the night.

give him your key to get your stuff, lovie! but don't question how he managed to get a copy so quick.

[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[dmitriene]

tf141 as a delivery company, all four boys working so good that all people around you buzz with praises towards them, saying that if you search for someone to help you with some furniture to the new home, you should immediately select their company, and since you just moved to the neighborhood, why not.

it's johnny who you meet first, he's delivering a new bed, because the house is completely empty, and sleeping on the floor is not your best choice, so ordering a bed was a first and most important option, while the other furniture was on it's way.

the first thing you notice is his baby blue eyes, bright pebbles that shine in the morning sun when you greet him, slightly disheveled and dressed in some ordinary pajamas, too sleepy to notice the way johnny's gaze trails down your body and round curves, until asking where you need the bed, bonnie, because he's sure you won't be able to place it yourself.

johnny wonders if you'll let him suck at your cunt as a payment, thoughts clouded with how you'll could have looked sprawled on this new bed, scrabbling at his messy mohawk, mattress stained with a puddle of your syrupy slick and his drool, writhing prettily with your sleeping shorts dangling at your ankle.

too pretty for your own good, especially when you flash him a beaming smile on his way out, thanking him for his work with flattering tone of voice, and johnny glad you can't see the heavy boner between his legs, hidden beneath the baggy fabric of his working pants, staining his boxers with sticky precum.

then you meet kyle, prettiest boy you've ever seen, fitting to be a model rather than delivery guy, holding a heavy box with bedside table in his hands, honeyed eyes crinkling in bright smile when he asks you where he can place it, since you zoned on his face for too long, and unbeknownst to you, it got him much flustered.

he's a sunshine, a golden boy with how fast he works with his veiny hands, saying that you'll give him less than an hour and the table would be ready for you to use, still wearing a warm smile that makes you melt, nodding dumbly, just watching how kyle works, all but focused on the task in front of him, brows creasing.

his shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of his lower back, skin smooth, and it's you who wonders about having fun with him, propped on his lap, toying with his most likely lengthy cock, all wet for you, imagining if he would let you play with him, or he'll flip you up and rearrange your glossy cunt till you're dumb.

kyle leaves you with a new furniture for a less than thirty minutes and winking at you when he stands at the doorway, leaning aside on his hip, saying that if you'll need more help, you know where to find him, and his name as well, and this leaves you with suddenly sodden panties and unspoken fantasies.

at the end, you meet simon and john, two bulky men that helped you with your new couch, a big thing that is better than the old, dusty one, and indeed worth of having two big men inside your house, crouched on the floor to settle the furniture up, telling you to not worry about a single thing, lass.

simon is more silent, efficient at his work and seems brooding, but his dark gaze softens everytime he meets your eyes as you check up on them, his hand caressing the small of your back briefly, just after john patted you there in reassurance, too close to the swell of your ass, murmuring that it's their work and you don't have to try and stick up to help in your own house.

cerulean eyes soothingly cold, with comforting smile hiding beneath his facial hair everytime your fingers touch, making you shudder briefly, almost praying so they'll won't notice how you eye them, how your cheeks tingle, but they both do.

wondering how you'll look seated on this plush couch, stripped bare and stretched around john's fat cock, with simon's throbbing girth down your tight little throat, an obedient housewife for them, sweet darling that could help them relieve after hard work, and perhaps, since you're living all alone, they could make you theirs.

it's the moment all of the boys are out on the weekends evening in some town pub, drinking glass after glass of warming, tart liquid, when johnny breaks up in slurring about what a cutie he meet when delivering some really big bed, and when kyle joined next, and then simon, john's eyes squinting as he strokes at his mutton chops, your appearance coming up like pieces of puzzles through their talk, everything fell into place.

all along, they were dreaming of the same bird, in the same house in a small neighborhood, sweet darling with giddy smiles and too longing gazes, and since they're such a good team, why won't they're help you a bit more this time, one for one.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[taeghi]

dangerous when wet

you find out your next door neighbour loves shower sex.

PAIRING: neigbour!jake x y/n

GENRE: smut, shower sex duh, unprotected sex, oral, masturbating, dirty talk

WC: 10k MDNI

you've been living in your apartment for a year now, and it finally feels like yours. it wasn’t much when you first moved in—just a small, empty space with plain white walls and a few pieces of basic furniture that came with the lease. but over time, you’ve slowly transformed it into something that feels warm and welcoming.

you’ve spent countless hours finding the perfect decorations for it. you’ve put up pictures on the once bare walls, just to take them down again and put some new ones up. you wanted everything to be perfect. you wanted it to feel like you.

most days, it’s just you here, alone with your thoughts and your textbooks. you’re deep into your college studies majority of the time. but, you’ve made your apartment perfect for studying. it’s quiet, organized and everything has its own place of where it belongs. 

you like that it's quiet here. after a long day on campus, your apartment is your retreat, your safe space. the outside world can be overwhelming, but here, everything is just how you want it. there’s a kind of peace that comes with knowing you have a place that’s all your own, where you can shut the door and leave everything else behind.

today is one of those rare days when you don’t have any classes, so you’ve planned to spend the entire day catching up on your studies. you’ve got your textbooks laid out on the coffee table, your laptop open with a dozen tabs ready to go, and a playlist of soft music playing in the background to keep you focused.

but as you’re about to dive into your notes, you hear some noises in the hallway. at first, it’s just a faint rustling, but then it gets louder, like someone’s moving furniture or carrying something heavy. you pause, your pen hovering over your notebook, and listen. the sounds continue, voices joining in, and for a moment, you wonder what’s going on. then it hits you—mrs. blue, the sweet old lady who used to live next door, moved out last week. someone must be moving in now.

curiosity gets the better of you, so you quietly get up and tiptoe to the front door. you peek through the peephole, trying not to make a sound. through the tiny lens, you see a boy around your age standing in the hallway, a cardboard box balanced easily in one hand. even through the peephole, it’s clear that he’s good-looking and he knows it. 

he’s laughing at something one of the other guys says, his smile wide and easy, and you can’t help but notice the way his confidence just radiates off him. there are a couple of other boys with him, also carrying boxes into the apartment next door, and they’re all chatting and joking like they’ve known each other forever. you wonder which one of them, or how many of them are moving in. 

you watch for a moment longer, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite name. this new neighbor is nothing like mrs. blue, that’s for sure.

but for now, you go back to your studying, putting in your headphones this time and ignoring the slight bumps you hear from the furniture being moved around next door. 

it isn’t until later when you’re making dinner that you realize you’re out of sauce for your pasta. you check all your cupboards for anything you can use, but turn out empty handed. 

you sigh, knowing that you’ll have to run to the store to get some more sauce for your dinner. you wanted to have one day where you could just stay in your apartment all day and relax. 

but, you grab your purse and decide to leave for the store, keeping on your pink pajama shorts and top since you think that you’ll only be running in and out of the store in a short amount of time. 

you’re halfway into the hallway when the door to the apartment next to yours swings open and you almost walk straight into someone. you gasp, stumbling back a step as your eyes dart up to see who it is. 

“i’m so, so sorry! are you okay?” the words tumble out of your mouth in a rush as you steady yourself, your heart still racing from the near collision.

the man in front of you looks down at you, and you realize it was the man from earlier you saw through your peephole. you’re too flustered to say anything else. he’s taller than you though and his tousled brown hair is pushed back off of his forehead. a slow, easy grin makes his way onto his face. 

he glances down, taking in your outfit and chuckles softly. the sound makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you suddenly wish you’d at least thrown on a hoodie before stepping out. 

“it’s alright,” he says, his voice smooth and warm, like he’s genuinely amused by the situation. “i’m jake, by the way. i just moved in.” he extends his hand to you, and it takes a second for you to register what’s happening.

“i’m y/n,” you manage to mumble as you shake his hand, your voice coming out more timidly than you’d like. internally, you’re cursing yourself for being so shy, especially in front of someone who seems so effortlessly confident. his hand is warm, his grip firm, and you can’t help but feel a little more flustered as you pull your hand back.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” jake says, still smiling that smile that makes it hard to think straight. “i’ll see you around, then.” with that, he turns and starts walking down the hall, catching up with a couple of guys who are waiting for him. as they pass by, both of them wave at you, and you manage a small wave back before they disappear down the apartment building steps.

once they’re gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your cheeks still warm with embarrassment. you’re standing in the hallway in your pink pajamas and just almost ran into your ridiculously hot next door neighbour. 

you cringe at yourself and start to leave the building as well, making your way to the store. you can’t stop thinking about jake the whole way there. you’re both curious and intimidated by him. he’s attractive, confident and seems so carefree. everything that you’re not. 

you wonder what its going to be like living next door to someone like him.

it’s been two weeks since jake moved in, and every weekend, like clockwork, he throws a party. it’s become a routine you dread. the moment friday evening rolls around, you brace yourself for the noise, the pounding music, the bursts of laughter that seep through the thin walls. no matter what you do, you can’t escape it. the bass thuds through your apartment, vibrating through your bed frame, making it impossible to focus on anything, let alone study.

you’ve tried everything to block it out. noise-canceling headphones, calming playlists, even white noise—nothing works. it’s as if the walls are paper-thin, every beat of the music and every shout from the party-goers seeping into your space, filling it with chaos.

one afternoon, you’re coming home exhausted from college and you run into your neighbour maia, who lives on the opposite side of jake’s apartment. she’s always been friendly and outgoing– something you are jealous of her about. you wondered if the noise from jake’s parties had only been bothering you and not the rest of the building. 

“hey maia,” you start, trying to sound casual as the pretty girl opens her mailbox. 

“hi y/n!” she gleams at you, so perfectly. “what’s up?” 

“um, i was just wondering if you’ve heard the neighbours' parties? does the noise ever bother you? they’re just so loud, and i can’t seem to study at all when they’re going on.” 

maia looks at you, and then she laughs—a light, carefree sound that makes you feel a little foolish for even bringing it up. “oh, no, they don’t bother me at all! i actually join them most of the time,” she says, smiling brightly. “you should come one day, y/n. they’re so fun! you’re always in your apartment or at school studying, you need to let loose a little.”

her words make you smile, but it’s an awkward, strained smile. “yeah, maybe,” you say, but deep down, you know you’ll never go. the thought of being surrounded by all those people, of trying to navigate the noise and the chaos, makes you feel anxious.

you wave goodbye to maia and head to your own apartment, feeling frustrated that you are the only one seemingly annoyed by jake’s parties. i mean, it doesn’t even seem like jake has gotten a noise complaint from the manager of the building. you don’t know what to do. 

when saturday night rolls around again, you plan on going to bed early since you have to wake up early to cram for an important exam on monday morning. but sure enough, when the sky is total darkness, you start to hear the familiar sounds of jake’s party coming to life again next door. the music starts, a low thump that grows louder, then the laughter, the clinking of glasses and the sound of dancing feet. 

you lay down in your bed, pressing your pillow over your ears, but even that doesn’t help. you’re wide awake, staring up at the ceiling, listening to it all. 

the frustration builds inside you, and you wonder how long this will go on. how many more sleepless nights you’ll have to endure, how many times you’ll have to pretend to maia that you might actually show up at one of these parties. you can’t help but feel a mix of curiosity and irritation toward jake. he’s attractive, confident, and clearly the life of the party—everything you’re not. and now, as you lay there, unable to sleep, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be more like him, to not care so much about… everything. 

after what feels like an eternity of tossing, turning, and suffering through the relentless noise, the party finally seems to quiet down. the music fades, the laughter dies out, and suddenly, it’s blissfully silent. you figure jake must have kicked everyone out and gone to bed, and a relieved smile spreads across your face as you snuggle deeper into your blanket, ready to finally get some sleep. but just as your eyes start to close, you hear it—a soft, feminine giggle coming from the other side of the wall. your eyes shoot open, heart sinking as you realize that jake’s bedroom is right beside yours, and every sound from his room travels straight to your ears.

it takes a second for you to realize what the sound you’re hearing exactly is. but when you realize, a wave of embarrassment flushes over you. you can hear him having sex. 

your heart stands to pound as you recognize jake’s voice, groaning and muttering dirty phrases. you feel a twinge of guilt as you realize you start focusing solely on jake’s voice, but the curiosity and growing arousal you’re feeling is too strong to ignore. you wanted to know what a confident, good looking guy like jake sounded like in bed. 

the woman he’s with is vocal, ehr moans and gasps filling the silence between jake’s grunts. you wonder if he’s fingering her or if he has his mouth wrapped around her core. your imagination is running wild as you try too imagine the scene that is unfolding right on the other side of this wall. 

as you listen, your breathing quickens, and you find yourself reaching down to touch your breast, your finger dragging along your nipple over top of your shirt. it’s been a while since you’ve been touched— the last time was in your last year of high school. when college started you became too focused on your studies and your shyness only grew more and more the more you studied alone. 

bumping into jake in the hall a few weeks ago has been the only contact you’ve had with a man since you started college two years ago. you tried not to think about how long it’s been. 

you begin to pluck your puckered and sensitive nipples. it’s even been awhile since you’ve had the chance to touch yourself– to make yourself feel good. 

the woman’s moans become more urgent and muffled, and then you hear jake’s voice so clearly filled with desire, “suck it baby. take it all in your mouth.” 

you bite your lip, imagining jake saying those words to you. your hand moves lower, sliding beneath the elastic waistband of your pajama bottoms. your fingers find your clit, and you begin to rub slow, firm circles as you listen to the sounds of the blowjob taking place next door. 

“fuck, that’s it.” jake groans, and you can faintly hear the wet sounds of the woman obeying his command. “you love sucking my cock, don’t you? taking it deep down your throat.” 

your fingers move faster as you picture jake's thick, hardened cock sliding in and out of the woman's mouth. you imagine his hands tangling in her hair, guiding her movements as she sucks him eagerly. your other hand moves to pinch your nipple, rolling it between your fingers as you continue to rub your clit. you wish he could be doing this to you. 

the sounds of the blowjob continue, and you can't help but wonder if the woman is looking up at jake with lust-filled eyes, her face flushed and lips wrapped around his shaft. you want to be her, to feel jake's cock filling your mouth, tasting him on your tongue.

"i'm gonna cum," jake warns, his voice tight with anticipation. "fuck, keep sucking. swallow it all."

your breathing is ragged now, your body tensing as you approach your own climax. you can almost feel jake's cock throbbing in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat as the woman next door obediently swallows his load.

"fuck, yeah," jake groans, and you hear the satisfied whimpers of the woman. "that was fucking amazing, baby."

you bite your lip, your fingers working furiously over your sensitive clit as you listen to their post-orgasmic bliss. you're so close to your own release, your body aching for it.

"now, I want to feel that tight pussy around my cock," jake says, his voice laced with desire again. "ride me, baby. let me watch that perfect ass bounce on my dick."

you imagine jake lying on his bed, his cock hard and ready as the woman straddles him. you try to picture yourself doing it to him, both of your thighs wrapped around his hips as you lower yourself onto his cock– but you know you’d be too shy for it. you know jake wouldn’t think you’re sexy like the woman he’s fucking right now is. 

the woman gasps as she takes him inside her, and you can almost hear the wet sounds of their bodies joining. you can almost feel the tightness of your own pussy as you imagine jake's thick cock stretching her, filling her up.

"oh god, you feel so good," the woman moans, riding jake's cock. "i want to feel you so deep inside me."

you close your eyes, your body rocking gently as you bring yourself closer to climax. your breath comes in short gasps, and your fingers move faster, needing that release.

jake's hands grip the woman's hips, guiding her movements as she rides him. "that's it, baby," he grunts. "ride my cock. show me how much you want it.” 

you can hear the slap of their bodies meeting, the woman's moans growing louder as she nears her climax. you want to be in her place, feeling jake's powerful thrusts deep within you, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"hh, I'm close," the woman whimpers. "i'm gonna cum, jake. fuck, I'm gonna cum so hard on your cock."

"cum for me, baby," Jake encourages, his voice hoarse with his own rising desire. "let me feel that tight pussy clench around my dick."

you can't hold back any longer. as the woman cries out in ecstasy, your own orgasm washes over you. your body shakes with the intensity of it, your fingers never slowing as you ride out the waves of pleasure. you bite your lip to muffle your moans, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but the sensation is too overwhelming.

in the aftermath of your orgasm, you lay panting, your body sated and relaxed. you hear jake and the woman next door in a similar state, their breathing heavy and satisfied. you feel a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping, but your mind is still too hazy from the strong orgasm you just gave yourself. 

soon, exhaustion finally wins your body over. you can't keep your eyes open any longer, and as you drift off to sleep, your mind wanders one last time to thoughts of jake. you wonder about the type of women he’s into– what type of sex he’s into. you feel like you have an idea of what he likes. 

with those thoughts lingering in your mind, you let the weight of sleep pull you under, hoping for a quieter night tomorrow after studying all day.

when you wake up, you decide that you need to go out and grab a coffee before diving into your studying. as you step out of your apartment and into the hallway, the memory of what happened last night lingers in your mind. 

just as you’re about to turn and head down the stairs, you see a woman emerging from jake’s apartment. she’s hugging him goodbye, and your breath catches in your throat. he’s shirtless, his toned body on full display, and he looks undeniably hot. the girl he’s with is stunning—she has long, glossy black hair cascading down her back, sharp, perfectly defined features, and so confident. she’s the epitome of the type of girl you imagine jake would find irresistible—so different from you in every way.

“bye jake, see you around,” she says, her voice smooth and warm as she wraps him in a final hug.

“bye, yasmin.” jake replies, his gaze lingering on her as she turns and walks away.

jake turns and starts to head back into his apartment, but he notices you standing there (not in your pink pajamas), and a smile grows on his face, “oh, hey y/n!” 

“hi,” you manage to squeak out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you give a meek response. you quickly turn and head down the stairs, cursing yourself for being so awkward. you hear jake’s soft chuckle behind you, followed by the sound of his door closing. with every step you take, you wish you could be more like the kind of girls jake likes—confident, attractive, and effortlessly cool. the thought weighs heavily on you as you practically run down the stairs, eager to escape the awkward encounter.

the next weekend, the familiar sounds of jake’s party start filtering through your walls again. today had been especially rough at school, and you’re on edge, feeling the frustration build up inside you. all you wanted was a good night's sleep. 

unable to take it any longer, you grab your resolve and walk over to jake’s apartment door, your pink pajama set feeling like the least of your worries.

you knock firmly, not caring that you’re in your sleepwear with your hair braided messily. when jake opens the door, he’s holding a red solo cup, and you can’t help but notice how his black button-down shirt is partially open, revealing his tan, muscular chest.

“hey, yn,” he greets, his voice slightly slurred but still cheerful. “sorry, am i being too loud?”

he takes in your disheveled appearance—sleepy eyes, braided hair, and an annoyed frown—and chuckles softly. you’re too irritated to care about his easy going demeanor.

“yes, actually,” you say sharply. “you keep me up with your loudness every weekend. i have school work and studying to do, you know.”

jake’s smile fades a bit as he registers your frustration. despite being drunk, he seems to sense your genuine annoyance. “i’m so sorry,” he says, his voice more earnest now. “i’ll keep it down. i know a pretty girl like you who needs her beauty sleep.”

you blink, momentarily taken aback by his comment, and manage a quiet, “uh, ok, thanks.”

he gives you a reassuring nod. “have a good night,” he says before closing the door.

you turn and walk back to your apartment in a daze, trying to process what just happened. his words replay in your mind as you notice the noise level dropping. finally, you manage to settle into your bed, exhausted but relieved, and drift off to sleep, feeling a mix of confusion and unexpected relief.

after your conversation with jake, the music in his apartment hasn’t been as loud. though the sounds of laughter and chatter still seep through the walls, the thumping bass is more bearable now. at least he’s trying to make it better for you. 

you head down to the mailboxes on the first floor, wanting to see if your best friend has sent you any more postcards from her vacation. 

as you’re sifting through the usual bills and flyers, you hear footsteps approaching. when you look up, it’s jake. he has his mailbox key swinging around his index finger as he walks up beside you, unlocking his own mailbox. 

“hey, yn,” he greets you, his voice confident and casual.

“hi,” you mumble, your eyes glued to the pile of mail in your hands. you can feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

you fumble with your letters, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake slightly. but of course, he does, and you catch the slight curve of his lips as he finds your shyness amusing.

“how’s school going?” 

“good,” you reply quickly, still avoiding his eyes. you shuffle your feet, desperate to end the encounter before you embarrass yourself any further.

“well, see you around,” jake says, his tone light and friendly.

you manage a quick nod before you scurry off, your heart pounding in your chest. as soon as you’re back in your apartment, you let out a groan. embarrassed, yet again, in front of jake.

a few days later, you’re returning home after a long day of classes when you spot maia and jake outside of his apartment. he’s leaning against the open door frame as he talks to your neighbour. 

hey, yn!” maia calls out cheerfully. “we were just talking about you!”

you approach them hesitantly, feeling a bit out of place. “oh, really?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

“yeah!” maia says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “jake’s throwing another party tomorrow night. you should totally come!”

you start to shake your head, the word “no” already forming on your lips, but then jake jumps in, his voice a mix of earnestness and charm. “please come, yn. i want to hang out with my neighbour!”

maia nods enthusiastically, both of them looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

you sigh, feeling cornered. “okay, fine, i’ll come,” you agree, though a part of you can’t believe you just said that.

“yes!” maia cheers, and jake flashes you a triumphant grin.

as you walk back to your apartment, you can’t help but sigh again, wondering what you’ve just gotten yourself into.

you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing down the dress for what feels like the thousandth time. it’s a simple dress, nothing too flashy, but you still feel self conscious. you’re not even sure why you put it on– maybe to prove something to yourself, maybe because deep down, you’re tired of feeling like the odd one out. or maybe it's because of jake. 

no, it’s definitely because of jake. 

when you hear the unfortunately familiar thump of music vibrating through the walls again, you figure its time to go over to the party. 

with a deep breath, you knock on the door. 

it only takes a moment before the door swings open and jake stands there, with that same confident smirk he always seems to have. his eyes widen slightly as they take in your dress, the curve of your waist, the way it hugs your figure. it’s subtle, but you notice, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“what?” you ask him, trying to sound annoyed. 

“nothing,” jake says, his smirk widening. “just surprised you’re not in your pink pajamas again.”

you can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “hey!”

“i’m kidding,” he chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “though you do look cute in them.”

his words catch you off guard, and you feel a mix of embarrassment and something else. you just smile, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

before you can say anything else, you hear maia’s voice calling your name from inside. “yn! come sit with us!”

you glance past jake and see maia waving you over, surrounded by a small group of people on the couch. jake steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. with a nervous smile, you step inside, immediately hit by the scent of cologne and weed, the sounds of laughter and music filling the room.

maia pats the spot next to her on the couch, and you gratefully sink into the seat, trying to push down the anxiety bubbling in your chest. jake follows, taking a chair directly across from you, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. you can feel his gaze, the weight of it making you squirm slightly in your seat.

everyone around you is seemingly at ease except for you. they are all drinking and laughing, having fun. but all you can focus on is jake and the way his eyes never seem to leave you. it sends a thrill down you to know that he’s actually noticing you. but you try to ignore it, pushing down the anxiety and focus on anything but the boy sitting across from you. 

“hey! let’s play truth or dare!” maia’s laughter fills your ears at her suggestion. a few people immediately cheer in agreement. 

you feel a knot tighten in your stomach at the suggestion. you’ve never played it before, but you’ve heard it’s a thing at parties. you’ve never even really been to a party before. 

maia nudges you with her elbow, “come on, y/n!” she already senses your hesitation, “it’ll be fun!” 

"yeah, join us," jake’s voice adds from across the room, and your eyes dart to him. he’s watching you, his gaze steady and, for some reason, that only makes you more nervous. he looks so confident, like he belongs in this kind of setting, while you feel like an outsider.

you nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice trembling. a few people shift around, creating a loose circle, and you find yourself sitting between maia and a guy you vaguely recognize from the hallway when jake was moving in. 

the game starts and you hope no one picks you since they aren’t familiar with you. 

you learn that the boy next to you is named jay and he’s pretty carefree and outgoing like the rest of them. when it’s his turn to choose, he goes with dark, which makes him take a shot of something suspiciously strong. he does it without flinching and the rest of the group cheers him on. 

maia gets dared to kiss the girl beside her. the reaction from the rest of the group as they watched them kiss had even you laughing. 

then it’s maia’s turn to ask, and she eyes jake with a playful smirk, “jake, truth or dare.” 

“truth,” jake replies, leaning back in his chair, completely at ease.

without hesitation she asks, “what’s your favourite place to have sex?” 

jake smirks, his eyes sweeping over the group before they land on you, “the shower.” his voice comes out smooth. 

maia scoffs, “really? the shower?” 

“and what’s wrong with the shower?” jake’s eyes are interrogating her from across the coffee table. 

“well it’s small, uncomfortable, slippery– you just can’t get a proper position.” 

jake leans back in his seat, his eyes as amused as the smirk on his lips is. “but it’s hot, and intimate, and feeling the water against my skin as we fuck turns me on more.” 

there’s a few chuckles around the small group at his answer, but maia still only rolls her eyes at jake, not agreeing with his answer at all. she turns to face you. 

“y/n do you think the shower is a good place to have sex in? i mean is it good enough to be your favourite?” 

you feel heat rush straight to your cheeks as she calls you. the unfamiliar faces in the group all turn to look at you, including jake. 

you gulp before answering her, “i mean, i’ve never had sex in the shower before, but i guess it sounds tempting.” 

at your answer, jake smirks and leans in closer, the space between you shrinking as he leans over the coffee table, “temping enough to try?” he asks you, teasingly. there’s a challenge in his tone and it sends your mind racing, thinking of the night you heard him with your shared bedroom wall, thinking of what he’d look like with water droplets trailing down his skin. 

“okay okay! someone else go– alice how about you? truth or dare?” maia cuts off the intense eye contact between you and jake, probably noticing how you were suddenly struggling to breathe. 

jake leans back when alice answers with dare, a playful glint is still in his eyes. you realize that maybe the line between fantasy and reality with jake isn’t as strict as you thought.

you’re lounging in your apartment, your textbooks pushed away for the day, when a knock on your door jolts you out of your thoughts. you get up, not expecting anyone in particular, and open the door. your breath catches in your throat when you see jake standing there, in nothing but a towel. water droplets glistening on his skin.

your mind suddenly feels scrambled. 

“sorry to bother you, y/n,” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “but i’ve got no hot water in my apartment. could i finish showering here?” the way he says it makes it sound so casual.

“uh, yeah, sure, come in,” you manage to stammer, stepping aside as he slips past you, you force your eyes to stay looking at the ground. 

you lead him to your bathroom, trying to not focus on the fact that he’s only in a towel. 

he stands in your bathroom, looking around at it, curiously. he smiles to himself as he examines the way you’ve decorated it, cute. 

“ok, i think i’ve got it from here, y/n.” he says to you, trying not to laugh at the way he’s caught you staring at his body. 

“oh, right! sorry, yeah, i’ll be out here when you’re done!” you stutter and scramble to close the bathroom door, hearing his chuckle behind it. you cringe at yourself as you walk away from the bathroom door, hearing the water from the shower start. 

you sit back on your couch, trying not to imagine your hot neighbour naked in your shower. 

when you finally distract yourself by focusing on your phone, you hear the bathroom door open, the water stopped. 

“uh, y/n?” jake’s voice calls out to you. 

“yeah?” 

“can you come look at the shower? i think your hot water is broken too.” 

“what?” you groan out as you stand, “no!” 

you enter the doorway of the bathroom, jake’s towel is even looser around his hips, his full lower abdomen on display, water droplets disappear underneath the towel. 

“i was just using it and it was hot for a second and then it turned cold.” jake explains and steps aside, letting you walk past him so you could see for yourself. 

your hand reaches out and turns on the knob, instantly feeling hot water against your hand. your eyebrows furrowed together as you stand straight, “it’s hot now, that’s weird.” you turn to look at jake, who’s leaned against the counter, a smirk on his face as he obviously feigns confusion. 

“oh really? it turned ice cold on me, maybe you fixed it for me.” jake nods, staring straight at you. 

“yeah, maybe.” you try to sound confident, ignoring how small the bathroom finally felt and how inviting jake’s bare core looked. 

jake turns his attention to your shower, “so, you’ve never had shower sex before?” 

instantly your cheeks heat up and you try to act like you aren’t freaking out inside. 

“um, no, never.” 

“but you’ve thought about it right?” jake encourages you to speak, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth. you can feel his eyes scanning you, eating you up and undressing you. 

“um, i mean, uh,” you stuttered out, not being able to look at him. 

“you’ve never thought about me? in the shower?” 

your eyes jolt up to look at him, shocked– it’s like he’s read your mind. it’s like he knows everything you’ve ever thought about him. he reads you so well. 

you open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. you’re full of embarrassment and shock and lust. 

“you know our bedroom’s share a wall right y/n?”” jake continues, stepping forward, his basically naked body so close to yours. you try to not look directly at his muscular, wet chest, but it’s hard when he’s standing right in front of you. 

“yes.” 

“so you can hear me right?” 

your eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of your head, but you nod reluctantly. god, your neighbour is going to think you’re a freak. 

“well that means i can hear you.” 

your mouth goes dry at his statement, realizing that he’s heard you moan his name as you touch yourself late night. he’s heard you shrivel in your bed from the pleasure of your hands, wishing it was your neighbours instead of yours. 

god how could you be so careless? 

jake suddenly laughs, making you glance up at his face finally having enough courage. “don’t look so worried, y/n. you don’t think i liked listening to you moan? listening to you beg for me to make you cum?” 

you groan, your hands covering your face out of pure embarrassment. 

jake’s hands grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face so he can look at you. his face is so calm and amused. his body even closer to yours, his hands warm on your cold wrists. 

“i think you’re hot, y/n. and i want to make you feel good.” 

you can tell his confession is serious and it makes you feel like you’re dreaming. 

“will you let me?” 

“yes.” you finally manage to get out, your chest heaving as you breathe heavily. 

you watch him let go of your wrists and lean over you to turn the shower back on, the sound of the water hitting the marble floor of it fills your ears. 

“gonna let me show you why shower sex is my favourite?” jake teases, and you can’t help the small smile form on your face. which then drops instantly as he drops his towel on the floor, letting it pool between both of your feet. your eyes relish in the newly exposed skin, his cock already semi-hard and prominent. the vein’s on his cock are protruding and it makes you want to lick them one by one. 

jake, now completely naked, steps closer to you, his hands grabbing the bottom of your pyjama shirt and so slowly, lifts it up your body and above your head, leaving your chest bare for him to see. he groans as he stares at your tits, your nipples hard already from the cool bathroom air. 

his fingers play against the hem of your pants, “can i continue?” he asks, wanting your full consent. 

“yes, please, jake.”

he smiles at your politeness and pulls down your sweatpants at the same time as your panties, leaving you completely bare as you step out of them. jake takes a step back and takes in your body, bare for only him to see, “god you’re beautiful.” 

you try not to blush at his compliment, you think that surely he’s seen prettier girls than you, but right now, with the way he’s looking at you like he’s going to devour you, you try to push those thoughts out of your head.

jake guides you into the shower, following after you. the water is warm against your skin, wetting both your bodies together. 

jake lets you stand under the water, putting water on your hair and wetting it. you smile at him as he is gentle with you, making sure you’re completely wet like him. his thumbs brush against your cheek bones, he stares at you with a soft smile on his face that matches yours. 

one of his thumbs travels down to your bottom lip, playing with it and wetting it with your saliva. you let him easily slip his thumb into your mouth, your lips encircling it and sucking on it. your tongue gently traces it, teasing him. his own bottom lip is in between his teeth again, suppressing a moan at the feeling of you sucking on his finger. 

jake pulls his thumb out of your mouth and instead replaces it with his lips pressed against yours. he can’t take it anymore and neither can you. 

the first kiss is slow, but needy, your wet bodies pushed togther as the water cascades over your body. his lips feel better than you ever imagined. he tastes like mint and feels like heaven. 

it doesn’t take long for the kiss to become more heated. jake’s hands get braver as they travel from your jaw to your hips, they keep your body close to his. 

his lips start to travel across your jaw, pressing quick kisses into it before making his way down to your neck where he begins to suck and nipple on the sensitive skin. 

“jake…” is all you can say as he finds your sweet spot and sucks, the thought of him leaving a mark doesn’t disturb you. you want to be marked by jake. you want the reminder of him on you once tonight is over and you probably never see him again– let alone feel him again.

he presses you against the tiled wall, his body trapping you there. his hands cup your breasts, massaging them, tweaking your nipples, letting you whine out in pleasure into the bathroom. 

"you like that, don't you, baby?" he whispers against your lips. "you like it when I touch you like this."

you can only nod, your body on fire. you’ve thought about this so many times. you can feel his now hard cock press against your upper thigh. 

jake lowers himself, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, until he reaches your breasts again. he takes his time, worshipping your body, his hands gripping your hips as he kisses and sucks your sensitive flesh.

you wonder if he takes his time like this with every girl he hooks up with, lets them melt into him. you’ve heard him fuck countless of girls through your shared bedroom wall and you never imagined he was this attentive with them. 

"i want to feel your pussy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "let me touch you, feel how wet you are for me."

he slides a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your core. you're already soaked, it doesn’t surprise you or him, and you gasp as he strokes your sensitive folds.

"so wet," he growls, his voice full of satisfaction. "you're ready for me, aren't you?"

you nod, your eyes closed, as he slips a finger inside you, beginning a slow, rhythmic motion.

"open your eyes, baby," he commands. "look at me while i finger-fuck this tight pussy."

you obey, your eyes locking with his as he adds another finger, stretching you, filling you with pleasure. he works you expertly, his thumb circling your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. he keeps his eyes locked with yours and you suddenly find it hard to even stand up anymore. your knees feel weak as he fucks his fingers into you. 

you haven’t been touched by someone other than yourself in so long that even the different stretch of his fingers make you whine out. you shrivel against the wet wall of the shower behind you. 

the wet sounds of his fingers fucking into you mix with your cries that echo through your bathroom that are covered by the sound of the shower’s water. your hand reaches down and hold onto his shoulder for support. you try to obey him and keep your eyes open and focused on him, but the pleasure is getting to be too much too soon. 

then, jake wraps his lips around your clit and you know that you’re a goner. his lips suck your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it quickly. you cry out loudly, feeling the pressure form in your stomach quickly– needing release. 

"jake, i'm... i'm gonna..." you pant, your breath coming in short gasps.

"cum for me, baby," he urges, his fingers working faster. "let me feel your pussy clench around my fingers."

his words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your orgasm ripping through your body. your vision goes blurry as your body shakes against the shower wall. his fingers don’t stop fucking into you until your cries die down and your body relaxes against the wall. 

jake pulls his fingers out of you and immediately pops them into his mouth, sucking around them. 

“oh my god!” you exclaim in surprise as he groans around his fingers, enjoying the taste of you– wanting to taste even more of you. 

“what? you taste good.” jake shrugs at you and stands up fully again, his hands resting on your hips. before you can answer his lips press into yours, you allow his tongue to enter your mouth so easily. you let yourself taste your juices off of his tongue and lips, moaning at the obscenity of it. 

“you gonna let me fuck you now?” jake asks you, a soft smirk on his lips. 

“please,” 

jake wraps his arms under your thighs, lifting you up so neither of your feet are touching the ground and instead are wrapped around his waist, securely. 

he takes his time with you again once you’re in position. his lips find yours, pressing into yours so slowly and softly. but neither of you can ignore the way his hard cock is pressing into your wet pussy– open and on display just for him. 

suddenly, with one smooth thrust, jake pushes his cock into you. it feels you so suddenly and perfectly that it has you gasping out and taking your breath away. 

"oh, fuck," he groans, his eyes rolling back slightly. "you're so tight, so hot around my dick."

he begins to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. the water cascades over your bodies, adding to the sensuality of the moment. you meet his thrusts, wrapping your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper. needing him deeper. 

jake stills his hips and watches you bounce up and down on his cock while he holds you up in the air. “oh my fucking god,” he groans out, watching how needy you are for his cock. 

you use his shoulders as leverage, allowing your body to fully move up and down his cock– the tip hitting your g spot every single time he enters you fully. he fills you right to the brim. your nails dig into his shoulder, the pleasure so much so quick yet again for you. you’re almost disappointed in yourself. 

"that's it, ride me, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your thighs. "take all of me."

you're lost in a haze of pleasure, the hot water and jake's voice in your ear drive you wild. your pussy feels like it’s on the edge of cumming, but you tell yourself to hold it. you need this moment with jake to last longer.

your hips start to stutter and both you and jake know that you’re getting tired even though you don’t want to stop. but, jake takes over for you. 

he grips your hips harder and holds you still up against the shower wall as his cock starts to drill into you. 

“oh fuck!” you cry out, clenching your teeth together as he pounds up into you. 

you can hear the squelching of your pussy as he moves in and out of you. the sound of his wet thighs hitting yours with the shower water mixed between. his thumbs are drilling into your hips but you don’t care– you can only focus on the way he’s drilling into you at a rough, quick pace. 

your neighbour fucks just as good as you thought he would. 

jake suddenly stops, both of your chests heaving. your slightly glad he stopped, you were feeling too close to the edge for your liking. he sets you down on your feet and gives you only one command, “turn around.” 

you do as he says and press the palms of your hands against the shower wall. you feel jake’s hands slide down your body, resting on your hips before a harsh slap hits your ass, making you jolt forward in shock. 

“fuck i love your ass— always so perky and teasing me in the halls.” jake grunts out, his hand soothing over the wet, red skin of your ass. “wanted to fuck you as soon as i saw it, fuck.” 

his grunted confession makes you whimper out, your pussy clenching around nothing– needing jake’s cock back inside of you. you hear jake chuckle deeply behind you, almost completely covered from the sound of the water, but sure enough you feel the tip of his cock enter your folds. he teases you, rubbing it up and down, collecting more of your juices before sliding back into you at once. 

your jaw drops open against the shower wall. you don’t think you could ever get use to the feeling of him so deeply inside of you. 

jake starts to fuck you again, going at a slow, rough pace. everytime he slides back into you its hard- making your body jolt against the shower wall in front of you. you can feel every vein of his cock sliding in and out against your pussy walls. you feel almost drunk on jake’s cock. 

“oh my god i could fuck this pussy forever,” jake grunts out behind you, “feels so fucking perfect.” 

“i-i know,” you answer him, feeling the same way as his cock fills you. 

“fuck, c’mere,” jake says and before you can move, he’s moving you for you. he grabs your body off the wall and pressing you close to him– your back right against his chest with his cock still lodged inside of you. 

his voice is in your ear as he sinks his hand down across your body and in between your legs, his fingers finding your enlarged clit so easily. your cry out at the touch, your head resting on his shoulder. his other arm wraps completely across your neck, holding you against him, subtly taking away your oxygen. 

jake starts to pound up into you harshly again, his hips not stopping as he fills you over and over again. his tip feeling like it’s bruising your cervix. his fingers massage rough circles into your clit. 

“just like that jake! just like that!” you cry out the best you can, his arm still choking you. the lack of oxygen to your head makes the pleasure feel 100 times better. “please don’t stop!” 

jake groans and grunts into your ear as he fucks you, and you think that this is the best position to be in. every fiber of your body feels like it’s on fire as jake pleasures you completely. your pussy is clenching so hard around his cock that it’s driving both of you crazy. 

"i'm close," he grunts, his jaw clenched with effort. "gonna fill that sweet pussy with my cum."

his words send you spiraling towards another climax. you tighten around him, your nails digging into his arm as you ride the wave of pleasure.

"cum with me, baby," he growls, his voice hoarse with desire.

your orgasm crashes over you, and you cry out his name, your body convulsing around his cock. jake follows, his thrusts becoming erratic as he empties himself deep within you. the feeling of his warm cum inside of you makes you moan out– you’ve thought about his cum inside of you so many times. 

jake lets go of you as he slides his cock slowly out of your sensitive pussy, and you start to lean into the shower wall to be able to stand up, but jake catches you again. he chuckles to himself, finding it amusing how weak and fucked out you are. 

he still stands behind you, and presses a soft kiss into your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up.” 

jake’s hands move over you with a softness that’s almost surprising, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. his touch is gentle, reverent, as he reaches for the soap, lathering his hands before he begins to wash you, starting with your shoulders and working his way down, slow and careful. his fingers glide over your skin, soothing and patient. 

“just relax,” he murmurs, voice low and tender, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as his hands move over your arms, washing away the lather in smooth strokes. he’s so close, his warmth mixing with the heat of the water, and you can feel his breath ghosting along your skin as he leans in, pressing another gentle kiss to your cheek.

he moves with a rhythm that feels natural, like he knows exactly what you need. his hands move lower, taking their time, massaging every knot of tension out of you with a patient, unhurried calm. it’s intimate in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and you close your eyes, letting yourself lean into him as he tends to you.

“you’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead. his hands slide up to your shoulders again, moving slowly up to your neck, fingers gliding through your hair, working the shampoo through your scalp with careful, almost delicate movements. 

you can’t help but wonder if he says that to every woman as he washes their body and hair for them. you’ve never been in this situation before, and you wonder if he has since this almost seems like a natural setting for him. jake’s so handsome and outgoing, you’re sure he has. you’re sure his words have no real meaning behind him– just a dialogue that he says to everyone after he’s fucked them. 

when he tilts your head back to rinse, his touch is steady, supportive, and he keeps one hand cradling your head as the water flows over you. his other hand moves to your back, tracing small circles as he presses a kiss to the side of your face, his lips lingering there for a long moment.

it feels so intimate, so caring and natural. like you’re meant to be with jake in this moment. you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to just live beside him after this. 

“i could stay like this forever,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet confession, and it sends a warmth through you that goes deeper than just the heat of the water. as he rinses the last of the suds away, he trails soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, his hands gentle and sure as he holds you close. 

you don’t know what to think of his words. does he mean to be in this shower– or be with you forever?

jake turns off the shower, and there’s a quiet that settles over you both as the water stops. he steps out first, grabbing a towel and gently wrapping it around you, taking his time to dry you off. his hands are gentle, moving over your arms, your back, as he dabs the last traces of water from your skin.

you notice how slow and gentle he’s going with you– you push the thought away of him going so slow because he wants to be with you longer. 

he reaches for your pajamas, and you let him guide your arms into the sleeves. he slides the fabric over your shoulders, his touch lingering just a second longer each time. once you’re dressed, he grabs another towel, his fingers combing through your hair with a softness that makes you feel cared for in a way that feels almost foreign. he dries each strand with careful strokes, brushing your hair out until it’s smooth and soft.

you wonder how he knows to brush your hair like this. 

“all done,” he murmurs, his voice warm, and he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, pulling you close for a moment. you both move to the bed, and as you settle under the covers, jake’s still wearing just his towel, water glistening on his shoulders in the dim light. 

he stands beside your bed, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you with your head placed right in the middle of your pillow. he thinks you look like an angel this way. 

“stay with me tonight?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can think twice.

“sure, baby.” 

jake slips under the blanket beside you easily, resting his head on the pillow and draping his warm arm over your body. he nuzzles his face into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple for the last time. 

with his arm around you, the steady beat of his heart next to yours, everything feels so calm, like the world has shrunk down to just this, just him. the thought scares you, but sleep takes over your mind completely. 

you fall asleep to the warmth of his touch, his arm holding you close, feeling safe for the first time.

you wake up to an empty bed, and you don’t need to look to know that jake isn’t there. you lay there for a moment, still tangled in the sheets, listening for any sound that might mean he’s somewhere in your apartment—a faint shuffle in the kitchen, the hum of the shower. but it’s silent, and somehow, you already knew it would be. you almost laugh at yourself, at the small part of you that still thought he might stay,

it’s almost funny, in a painful kind of way, how you let yourself believe, even for a night, that he could be different. you knew from the beginning he wasn’t the type to stick around, knew your neighbor was all charm and smiles. he’s never been into relationships, never been one to stay. just a one-night thing, nothing but something physical, no strings, no promises.

why would it be different with you? 

you finally sit up, feeling the soreness in your body, a leftover reminder of last night. your hair’s a mess, sticking in odd directions, and you push it back, your fingers tangling in the strands. a sigh slips out, unbidden, as you turn your head, your eyes settling on the wall—the wall that separates your apartment from his. it’s strange, how close he is, right there, on the other side, maybe still asleep or already gone about his morning.

close, yet so distant. so far.

you stare at that wall, at the invisible line between you, and for a moment, you let yourself think about how easy it would be to knock on his door, to say something, anything. but you know it wouldn’t matter. because last night was just a blip to him, something that meant nothing beyond the moment.

but for you, it left more than just temporary bruises on your neck and hips. 

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[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

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[starkeyisthelastname]

Dilf/Husband!Rafe who could spend hours between your thighs 👅🍍 (thank you to my babe @rafesthroatbaby for being my muse for this!)

He may have been in his thirties, but he didn’t shy away when it came to eating pussy. When he did eat you out, he took his time and didn’t want any interruptions. He’d make sure the kids were gone, leaving the house empty so that you could moan as loud as you wanted while he made you feel good. He’d spend all day spoiling you, new Chanel still in its box, full set fresh, a beautiful dinner out on the water. He gave you the best because you deserved it. He certainly wasn’t easy to put up with and you were such a goddamn good mom, an amazing wife, and he loved to give you everything he possibly could.

He’d make sure you were comfortable, admiring your curves as you laid naked on the plush mattress. He’d settle between your thighs, spreading you open as he looked at the gorgeous view of your cunt right in front of him. “Such a beautiful fucking pussy.” He mumbled, his blue eyes then glancing up at you. It was a look that always sent a shiver down your spine and made your stomach flutter.

As soon as his tongue got his first taste of the night he was devouring you whole or at least that’s what it felt like. His striking cerulean eyes never left yours as he watched you come undone from his skillful mouth. Your expensive manicure would dig into his soft hair, holding him still as he sucked greedily on your aching clit. His deep groans vibrated against your soaked core, your sweet taste leaking onto his tongue non stop.

“R-rafe baby… shit…” You moaned loudly, curling your pretty toes against his muscled back. The way he ate pussy was a gift, and was all for you to have. His nose rubbed perfectly against your clit as he buried his tongue inside you, making you cry out beautifully.

Your lower stomach was on fire, your breath catching in your throat as you felt your orgasm starting to approach quickly. He let out a breathless laugh, tongue coming out to lick at your swollen pearl before sucking it into his mouth again. “Cum all over my fucking tongue baby. You know how I love that sweet shit.” He spoke low between taking sweet nips at your clit.

You threw your head back against the fluffy pillows, squeezing your thighs together as you cried out his name through an intense orgasm. He was quick to make you remember who was still in charge here and yanked them back open. “Keep your fuckin’ legs open, you know better when I’m trying to taste you.” He told you firmly, before the sound of his mouth taking a thirsty gulp made your head spin all over again.

[the-meme-monarch]

hi i hope it's clear that kk isn't actually upset about the box

snowgrave: is clearly about kris and noelle and spamton and berdly and like literally anyone else

me: ok but how are my faves doing during all this

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.