#enjoy! Can be considered a oneshot but

[crestfallencrest]

Tell Me

Fandom: Rune Factory 5 Pairing: Ryker/Ares Word Count: 3,654

Summary:

Ryker lets his fingers brush gently across the other’s cheek, lingering near the dark circles under his eyes. “...Ares, can you do me a huge favor?” Ares’ face leaned slightly into Ryker’s touch, eyes closing with contentment. “Yeah?” “...When you have to go out of town for SEED errands or anything like that, could you let me know? I can’t stop myself from worrying that you’re going to get into some kind of trouble while I’m not there...”

[x] - Read on AO3

It was a chilly autumn day, with winter just on the horizon. Ryker couldn’t help but shiver as a particular cold gust of wind blew past him and he knew he would likely have to stop by the bakery and see if Granny Yuki had any warmer coats on hand. Otherwise, he’d have to improvise. That much wasn’t a problem. In fact, if he got too cold, he at least had someone that he could cuddle up to in order to warm up.

Speaking of...

Ryker let his gaze trail over towards the field that sat not too far from his spot on the grass. He watched as the familiar blonde stood underneath the orange tree that he had put so much time and effort into. He remembered the day that the tree had begun to bear fruit, remembered the day he came across Ares gushing and rambling in excitement to Priscilla and Cecil about how much his hard work had paid off. About how excited he was to eat one of the oranges that he had grown himself.

That was the day that Ryker figured out that Ares really loved oranges, and liked fruit in general. For a while, he never really knew why he filed that information into the back of his head at the time. Really, Ryker should have realized why but he was extremely thick headed at times. But it was when Ares confessed to him that he finally figured it out.

They had been dating for a while now, and already, Ryker has had his fair share of screw ups in their relationship. Nearly screwing up accepting Ares’ confession because he simply couldn’t look Ares in the face because of how embarrassed he was, running away from their first date because they were seen by Martin... and then nearly leaving Ares for good in order to pursue the dream of becoming Basara, under the delusion that it would get his old family together.

Even now, he still remembered how hurt Ares sounded when he found out about Ryker’s crimes. How heartbroken he looked when he had ‘lost’ their competition, how lost he looked. So lost that he didn’t even notice that giant monster sneak up behind him. If Ryker hadn't looked back, Ares would have been...

...Ryker couldn’t even stomach the thought of it. The scar across his own chest that Ryker had received from when he took the hit for Ares was entirely worth it, if it meant that Ares didn’t get hurt because of his own stupidity. The idea of losing Ares was almost unbearable. He was an idiot for nearly leaving the man behind in the first place, but a world without Ares... he couldn’t imagine that.

“...Hey, Ares.”

Ryker watched as Ares perked up at the sound of his name, arms full of his daily harvest of oranges. His blue eyes were practically sparkling with life as he quickly dumped his daily prize into a nearby basket. “Yeah, what’s up? You okay?”

When Ryker requested that they hang out today, Ares seemed a bit uncertain about it, due to him having to do some last minute farm work to prepare for the oncoming winter. The end and beginning of a season always seemed to be the busiest time for the ranger so Ryker couldn’t really blame him for wanting to turn him down but... Ryker really just wanted to be near him for a while. So, he asked if he could just hang out and nap on the sidelines while Ares did his work and the man eventually agreed.

Not that Ryker got much napping done. Not when he was too caught up in watching his boyfriend pick his oranges, the blonde smiling as if all of his dreams had come true. And now, that cute little smile was pointed in his direction and the white haired man could feel his heart skip a beat.

Ryker really didn’t want to get in the way of Ares’ work but... “C’mere for a second?”

As Ryker held a hand out, Ares gave a momentary pause as he looked down at the basket full of oranges and then gave a quick glance around the area, as if determining just how much work he had left on his plate. There probably wasn’t too much work left to do, since Ares ultimately decided to walk over to Ryker to gently place his hand onto the other’s. “Is something wrong, Ryker?”

Ryker grinned. “Nah. You just fell into my trap, is all.”

“Huh?”

That was the only response that Ares could get out before Ryker yanked hard at his arm, pulling the man down onto his knees next to him. And then, with a swift movement, Ryker wraps his arms around the other’s waist and pulls him close enough for Ares’ back to press against his chest. For a moment, Ares scrambled for a moment, trying to gain an understanding of what was happening but just as quickly calmed down as Ryker rested his chin on Ares’ shoulder. Once Ares was seated securely between Ryker’s legs, Ryker loosened his grip on the other as he smiled into the man’s shoulder.

“There we go. Much better.”

Ares turned his head to try and look over his shoulder at the white haired man, his voice on the brink of laughter. “What in the world are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m holding my boyfriend.” Ryker could feel his cheeks heat up but from Ares’ vantage point, there was no way he could see his cheeks... right?

“Yeah, but I told you I have a lot of work to do!”

“Yeah, but it’s break time.” Ryker grins, squeezing the other again. “C’mooon, you’ve been at it for a while.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Nope. Break time. Take a minute and breathe and look at the sky with me, okay? Then I’ll help you with the rest of your work.”

Ryker knew that his offer to help was a critical success, judging by how Ares went still and couldn’t offer another retort. Ryker smirked in victory as he felt Ares slump back, leaning back against Ryker’s chest with a tiny sigh. “Okay, but only for a little bit.”

Considering that Ares didn’t clarify how long ‘a little bit’ was... Ryker could work with this. “Fine by me. I just wanted you to take a bit of a break. You’ve been looking exhausted lately.”

Ares falls quiet for a moment before a tiny chuckle leaves his mouth. “Heh... well... you know how the end of the seasons are. Plus... SEED work has been pretty rough lately.”

Ryker frowned. He had noticed that Ares and Scarlett both had been leaving town a lot lately, or running around like rampaging cuckadoodles. It wasn’t even just him that’s noticed. The entire town was beginning to notice just how exhausted Ares had been lately. But the ranger would always wave it off with a smile, even turning down free food that had been offered by Elsje, Randolph and Granny Yuki. He even almost turned down a couple of free baths from Murakumo but one pointed look from Misasagi and a perfectly planned puppy dog look from Hina was enough to get Ares to accept the family’s kindness.

It helped, but it wasn’t enough to get rid of the faint and barely noticeable dark circles that were beginning to form underneath his eyes. Harvesting the oranges was probably the most life that he had seen from Ares in the last couple of days. Just what in the hell did SEED have Ares doing?

“...I’ve noticed that you’ve been going on mission after mission for SEED lately. Do I need to complain to the captain about putting too much on your plate? I know how you are. The word ‘No’ doesn’t seem to be in your vocabulary when it comes to people needing help, so if you’re struggling, I can—” Ryker’s offer trailed off when Ares quickly shook his head.

“No, no— it’s fine. Captain Livia isn’t overworking me... Things are just crazy right now, that’s all.” Ares hesitated before shifting in Ryker’s arms, pulling the man’s arms off of him so he could turn to face the other, sitting back on his knees.

Once again, there was that damn smile. That smile that was constantly telling him and the others to ‘Not worry.’

Ryker was never one to worry over much before. Maybe he would worry about making blueprints that would make Palmo’s reputation look bad but he never really had much else to worry about. But then Ares came along, so brave, so kind, so reckless when it came to protecting others... How could one not worry about him?

He took a deep breath, breaking his gaze from his boyfriend before the urge to wipe that smile off of his face took over the entirety of his body. “... Just be sure not to take too much, okay? You’re... amazing. Maybe too amazing. And dependable. And overall, just extremely helpful to everyone you meet—”

From the corners of his eyes, Ryker could see Ares’ eyes widen and his cheeks began to turn a faint shade of pink. “Ryker... I’m not—”

Ryker shook his head and took Ares’ hands into his own. “You are. Maybe not as cool as me, but... just because you’re all of those things, doesn’t mean you need to take on the entire world’s burdens by yourself, okay?”

Ares tensed as Ryker spoke those words and the smile faltered for only a moment. He watched as his blue eyes darted down to their joined hands and for the tiniest moment, Ryker can see past that barrier that the other kept up in favor of putting everyone else first. 

Ryker decided he wanted to tear that damn wall down more than anything.

“I...” Ares squeezed Ryker’s hands. “I’m not alone, Ryker. I have everyone here in Rigbarth and that gives me enough strength to keep pushing forward. Captain Livia, Scarlett, Priscilla, Lucy, Cecil— Everyone. But most important of all, I have you, don’t I? Even if I see you just in passing, just seeing your face is enough to energize me.”

“Heh...” Ryker tilted his head, ignoring the heat on his own face. “I guess I just have that effect on people.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Ares, at least. Ryker would count that as his victory of the day. “It has an effect on me.”

“I would hope so, considering that we’re boyfriends.” Ryker laughed. And then, as silence settled between them once more, the white haired man tugged his hand free so he could lift it towards Ares’ face. He lets his fingers brush gently across the other’s cheek, lingering near the dark circles under his eyes. “...Ares, can you do me a huge favor?”

Ares’ face leaned slightly into Ryker’s touch, eyes closing with contentment. “Yeah?”

“...When you have to go out of town for SEED errands or anything like that, could you let me know? I can’t stop myself from worrying that you’re going to get into some kind of trouble while I’m not there...”

Ares’ eyes opened again to meet Ryker’s gaze, confused and questioning before the gentle smile made its return. “You’ve gotten really overprotective lately.”

Ryker returned the smile as he goes from brushing his fingers against the other’s cheek in favor of cupping Ares’ face instead. “I can’t help it. You’re really important to me, y’know?”

“And you’re important to me, Ryker...”

Ares was just a few inches away from his face now and he wasn’t entirely sure when they had gotten so close to each other. Wasn’t sure when he had started leaning into Ares’ personal space, or when Ares had scooted closer until he was practically in his lap. Ryker stole a glance down at the others lips and even just a tiny glance was enough to make Ryker’s heart race. Come to think of it, despite their many dates... he and Ares still hadn’t shared their first kiss together, have they?

Ryker took a deep breath and leaned in closer. “There’s something else I wanna ask you, Ares.”

“Yeah?” Their noses were barely touching now as Ares moved his other hand so that it would rest on Ryker’s shoulder. His cheeks were a deep red now, his lips parting and Ryker wanted to lean in so badly, to steal a kiss so badly, more than anything—

But still, he found himself asking for permission. Because Ares’ comfort and happiness came above all else in Ryker’s eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“...Yeah.”

And that was all he needed to hear. Ryker leaned in and pressed his lips against Ares’, with the blond turning his head just right so they could slot their lips together perfectly. As their eyes slipped closed, they lost themselves into the kiss, becoming the only two people left in the world at that moment. Ryker’s hand, the one that rested on Ares’ cheek, moved so he could slide his fingers through the back of Ares’ short blonde hair. He could feel the hood of his coat fall back as his partner slid his arms around his neck, in an effort to get as close as possible.

There was something... desperate about the way Ares kissed. He gripped onto Ryker like a lifeline, his eyes were shut tight as if he were afraid of opening them, afraid of coming back to reality. He even trembled slightly under Ryker’s touch, sighing against the kiss every time Ryker squeezed him and tried to pull him closer. At first, he thought that maybe Ares was getting really into it and that maybe they needed to move this somewhere that wasn’t the backyard of SEED Headquarters… but then he felt something wet slide down Ares’ cheek.

Ryker tore away from Ares in an instant, breathless and maybe a little hot but he shoved that to the side for now as he put all of his focus into Ares. His hand moved back to wipe at Ares’ cheek, panic shooting through his body. “Ares? H-Hey, what’s wrong...? Why are you crying?”

Ares’ blue eyes were brimming with tears as he stared back at Ryker with a confused stare. It seemed to take him a moment to realize that he was crying in the first place and then soon, the boy jolted back to reality in favor of wiping his face. “I’m crying—? Ah, I-I’m sorry, Ryker, I dunno what got into me—”

Ryker frowned and continued to help Ares wipe at his face, even going so far as to offer part of his cloak to dry his eyes with. Not once did his eyes leave Ares’ face as he rubbed gently at the other’s back. “Did I do something to upset you? Was it the kiss? It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

It was a weak attempt to make a dumb joke to try and get Ares to stop crying but even if Ares was able to let out a tiny laugh, the tears wouldn’t stop falling. Ryker was... torn. Torn between pulling Ares closer to comfort him, but being unsure if he was the reason he was crying to begin with.

“C’mon Ares... Talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing— You didn’t do anything. I’m so happy right now but—” Ares cut in immediately, shaking his head as he wiped at his face. “I just... I guess I just got emotional. That’s... That’s all.”

Ryker’s eyebrows furrowed, a doubtful look on his face. Upon seeing Ryker’s doubt, Ares leaned in and pecked him on the lips once. Twice. Three times and smiled widely at the man when he pulled away.

“I just really love you... you know?”

Ryker nodded quietly, eyes fixed on Ares’. He seemed genuine about that. He was genuine and sincere about everything. It was one of the reasons why he loved the man so much. But still... something didn’t seem right. Something was bugging Ares. But what...?

It was getting late, as the sun began its descent in the sky. It would be night soon and normally, Ryker held more energy as soon as the moon rose. Usually by now, he would start getting more active, start making his way through the town to run off the energy but something told him that the rest of his afternoon was going to be tied up.

“I love you too, Ares.” Ryker dabbed at his lover’s face a little longer before tilting his head with a tiny grin. “Hey... Do you wanna finish up your work real quick and then maybe... I dunno. Head to your room and nap for a while?”

Ares hesitated and for a scary second, Ryker wondered if maybe he was overstepping by inviting himself to Ares’ room. He watched the smaller man glance at the fields and then back towards the SEED headquarters and— Ah. Right.

Ryker wasn’t exactly planning to do anything other than nap but in the few times he had been in Ares’ room, he was very quick to note that there was very little privacy in that place. If someone came upstairs looking for Ares, they would definitely get caught cuddling. Ryker’s face burned at the mere thought of it. “Uh... We can also head back to my place instead? Palmo’s out of town for a job and won’t be back until late tonight so...”

Ryker’s face burned even more. They would have the place to themselves. He almost wished he was feeling brave enough to try and make a move and maybe, just maybe, he would have if Ares wasn’t currently trying to dry his face from whatever had just upset him.

Maybe next time, the helpful part of his brain suggested.

He pointedly decided to tell that part of his brain to shut its trap for right now.

The sound of his heart hammered in his chest seemed to go on forever as he watched Ares, waiting for an answer. And right before Ryker could think to take it back, right before he could just mumble out a “just kidding” in order to save face, he’s blind-sided by that smile again. The smile that told him that no matter what was going on in Ares’ brain right now, Ryker was at least making something better by just being around him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I would love that.”

—

Ares let his finger gently twirl and brush through Ryker’s white locks as they laid together in the apprentice’s bed. The house was strangely quiet due to the absence of Palmo. Ares couldn’t help but wonder how Ryker could even stand staying in this house when it was as silent as it was. Palmo was such a loud and joyous individual, it was hard to imagine staying here without hearing him at least singing in joy in the next room.

Despite how strange the silence was, Ares couldn’t help but be grateful for it. He could imagine that they wouldn’t have had this moment of peace otherwise. Which meant that Ares would also have missed out on watching just how adorable Ryker was when he was sleeping. It never took his boyfriend long to pass out if his mind was set on resting.

Ares wished he could sleep as easily as Ryker could.

The gentle smile resting on Ares’ face slowly fell away into a more pensive expression. His fingers fell from Ryker’s hair to brush against his cheek and the blonde let out a heavy sigh that he had been holding all day. He wished he could sleep just as peacefully as Ryker could.

Unfortunately, it was hard to sleep at all when the fate of the world weighed down on your shoulders.

At the grim reminder of what was at stake, Ares felt his entire soul grow weary as he shifted closer to Ryker’s sleeping form. His boyfriend’s arms were wrapped loosely around Ares’ waist and upon feeling him shift in his grasp, Ryker let out a tiny mumble before Ares felt the other squeeze him in his sleep before moving to bury his face into Ares’ hair. Ares felt something warm blossom in his chest.

Even if he, himself, couldn’t get enough sleep, he could count on Ryker to sleep enough for the both of them... Mostly. He still had a habit of running around in the middle of the night but one way or another, he managed to catch up on sleep somehow. Ares simply... couldn’t. No matter how much he tried. And he likely wouldn’t get much sleep at all until Gideon was taken care of.

Soon, he would be leaving to go chase after Gideon in his fortress in the clouds. Soon he would be confronting the man who led SEED into power, and would be stopping him from trying to force the world into his image. Soon, he’ll be fighting and putting his life on the line in order to protect the world and the people he had grown to love in his short year of living in Rigbarth.

But for now, he’ll simply rest his head against the chest of the man he loved and listen to the steady and soothing heartbeat within. Even if he didn’t sleep, this was still more than enough to energize him for the coming turmoil that Ares would soon be facing on his own.

All to protect his friends. All to protect Ryker. And all to protect the life he had created for himself, despite everything.

And when he got back, he was certain that Ryker would be more than happy to spend the next twenty four hours in bed with him in order to allow the ranger to catch up on days of lost sleep. It was something that Ares could look forward to when he came home.

Because, he told himself repeatedly, I will be coming home.

[madamechrissy]

I Want It All

Pairings: Yandere! Choso x fem reader

Summary: Choso needs you, no he really needs you, you are everything to him and don't even know it. You don't know about the cameras he watches you on, you don't know he's jerking his cock in his office right across from you. You see a sweet, hot coworker, sort of shy, but Choso sees all of you, and when you invite him over randomly to 'hang out' Choso knows then it's his chance, to have you forever.

Warnings: Um ALOT- extreme yandere behavior, obsessed ass Choso, videoing without consent, using his tongue ring as manipulation lol, explicit sex, masturbation, stealing panties, oral (f and m receiving) possessive and unhinged ass behavior, overstimulation, some dacryphilia, somnophilia low key, manipulation of reader, rough sex, dirty talk, belly bulges, mating press, him being oddly sweet and cute for a nutcase, you name it. Subby Choso isn't here, only batshit Choso mmkay- (Please don't read if you don't enjoy darker content, I have lots of fluffy smut elsewhere) Oneshot- WC- 9.8k

Based on Yandere Bestie Choso - art in the banner from 28 on X here - dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/strangergraphics

TYSM for 9k followers!? Ya'll are so sweet!! consider this oneshot my thank youuu

“Thank you, Choso!” You smile so bright and pretty at him every morning, as he always gets your favorite coffee from your favorite place, along with some sort of pastry that you always say ‘you shouldn’t have!’

“Of course, it’s nothing.” He murmurs softly, as the two of you ride up in the elevator up to the high floor you two work on, you’re touching his shoulder with your little hand, burning through the material of his suit.

Choso hates this job, but he stays for you.

When no one would even listen to him, you sat there and paid attention to everything, to how he misses his little brother who went off to school, to just how much he loves guitar. Every lunch break is spent with you, nodding with your hand under your chin, watching him with your full attention, only breaking to nibble or have a sip of a drink.

You made him feel so good, it’s only right that Choso Kamo makes you feel so good, and he can imagine just about every fucking way to do so. He can imagine licking your pretty pussy till you cry for him to stop, but latching on more, watching your face cover in glistening tears. He can imagine fucking you so good you’re drooling, that you can’t even function.

Choso was never this way though, if anything he was more submissive in relationships, he got used or walked over for how sweet he was, and they usually controlled him in the bed. Though Choso loves to please, the things he wants to do with you are insane, to the point he’s vividly pictured tying you up in rope, knots pressing into your delicate skin, and having his cock in all of your holes.

Every single one would be so full of him, pouring cum out so gooey and white, he’s pictured using you so vividly he’s cumming to the thoughts alone multiple times a day. You seem so interested in him, but he wants more from that, no Choso wants you to need him, in every single way.

“I would never eat without you, I swear!”

He smiles at your comments, but it’s true, you always forget to eat and that just won’t do! He can’t have you fainting when he finally gets you spread open in his bed, when he gets to decorate that pretty ass he sees under those business skirts with his hand prints.

You’re going to need energy.

Plus, he likes to watch you eat, drink water, take care of yourself, you just work too hard lately. He notices, every tired blink of an eye, and every yawn, Choso notices it all- including things only he can see - like how you shift your hips in your office chair, how you cross and uncross your legs, wearing a different color of panties every single day.

Sometimes you wear lace.

Once you wore crotchless.

He got very mad at you.

Who were they for?

Men at the office flirted with you, bustling and busy and a little more men working to women, they all were after you. He has lost count how many dates you’ve been asked on, but you always sweetly decline, Choso likes to think it’s because you already know-

You’re his.

“You should eat more, and relax a bit. Ever took a day off?” He asks you now, and you shake your head, sighing.

“Too many bills to pay.” You yawn once more, before pecking a kiss on his cheek, making him blush, which you find adorable. “Sorry, is that okay?”

“Oh it’s f-fine.” Choso is over six foot, towering over everyone, buff under that suit- you can feel it- and far too handsome for his own good, but he’s so shy he acts as if he has no clue of his effects.

On you especially.

Just being in his proximity gets you too excited, his dark violet eyes flashing just a bit as he looks down at you, when the elevator dings and you two walk out, your hand falling then. “I’ll meet you at lunch?” You tease with a wink, and he nods a bit then, that flush fading just a bit from his cheeks, while you walk into the bright, open office.

Floor to ceiling windows abound, and cubicles are all over, but Choso works in his own private office, as he’s a higher up manager, and you’re the owner’s receptionist and assistant. You prance up to your boss, Mr. Higaruma, who offers you his own kind and tired smile.

“Good morning.” He says your name softly, pouring over his paperwork then and downing his coffee, dark brows knitted together.

“Good morning, Mr. Higaruma, want me to take half your stack?” You put down your purse and your breakfast at your desk, he sighs then, running a hand through his black spiky locks.

“Would you be a doll and do just that? This weekend I got…” He looks around as if he’s not the boss, whispering in  your ear. “Hungover.”

You nearly snort, covering your mouth then, and Higaruma grins at your cute expression. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, no, it is kind of funny. But I never drink anymore, ugh.”

“One sec…” You go to pull out a bottle of tylenol now, pouring water into a paper cup. “This will help, along with something greasy.”

“Greasy?” You both start talking, and Choso glares across the office, waiting for you to just sit down already.

How close did you two need to get!?

You finally do sit down, and he eyes your panties from the camera he has strategically placed, seeing that they’re purple today, making his cock throb as he sits in his office, he goes to shut the door then, staring at the image on his phone, watching you shift this way and that. Today the lace is clinging so tightly to your puffy lips he can see the outline of your perfect cunt.

“Oh my god…” He murmurs softly, if only you were his assistant, he’d have you bent over his desk right now, but for the moment he strokes his cock over his slacks, as you cross your legs, deterring his view. “Open them for me, baby, please…”

As if on command you do just that, lean back and spread your thighs, god he can’t stand how good you look, he eyes you out of one of his office windows as you smile over at him, waving so pretty. Clueless that he’s stroking his now leaky tip against his thumb, while he smiles back over to you, eyes torn between your pretty face and the upskirt view he has.

Choso’s cock springs free as he strokes himself under the desk, whimpering softly as he pictures it inside you, this is his daily routine though, stroking himself, over and over, he does so at least every day if not multiple times, using the precum and his own saliva as lube to stroke his thick cock faster. He bets you’re so tight, he bets you taste as good as you smell.

He’s leaned back, closing his eyes and murmuring your name when he hears a knock knock knock then, but he’s already cumming. “Shit, shit, shit…” He’s trying to hide his whine as he pours hot sticky ropes into his hand. “Hold on a minute!”

“Sure thing, Choso.” It’s you.

Fuck.

Choso hastily cleans himself up the best he can, tissues swiping at the sticky mess his cock has become, some of it is sticking to his black boxer briefs when he pulls himself together, opening his door. You’re smiling up at him, and he wonders if he should feel bad. You don’t know he sees your panties every day, but he brushes it off, because it’s not like he can help himself.

It takes everything not to drag you in as you just stand there curiously. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re flushed as you look down a bit, biting that lower lip that makes him think insane thoughts. “I wondered… would you like to come over?”

“Come over!?” He’s got his eyes wide now, and you feel your cheeks heat up more, shifting nervously.

“Is that too much? Is it weird?”

“What no I… you… huh?” Choso sputters now, imagining every way he wants you, god your lips probably would feel so good wrapped around his tip, wouldn’t they? Cleaning his cum off himself-

“Sorry, it’s stupid. Ugh. We just are so close here but we never hang out? And I have no friends here, just a cat I think.” You’re babbling, as he’s staring at you like you’ve grown another head.

You’ve wanted to ask him out for so long, surprised he never made a move, maybe you’re not his type? But curiosity gets the best of you, just who is he when he’s not so shy, when he’s not all in his business mode. Those glimpses of tattoos on his arms when he rolls his sleeves up are too enticing.

“A date?” He whispers, and you giggle then.

“It doesn’t have to be. Or it could be.”

“I’ll be there, I’ll… bring wine?” He grins as you brighten up.

“I love wine!”

Oh, he knows.

He knows the brands you like, the type you enjoy, he knows so much about you already, he’s seen the outside of your home almost every night after work, just to make sure you get home safe of course. You live alone and you’re just a sweet, fragile thing, there are too many crazy men out there. Once he watches you, he leaves of course!

But he does notice you enjoy a glass of wine, you leave your window wide open when it’s nice out, petting your cat and sipping on it, reading some book. God you look so pretty when you think no one is watching, when your shoulders relax just so, in those moments his thoughts are far more pure, not like when he has to be tortured by the obscene amount of panties you have.

“I’d love to come over. Do you want me to bring dinner?” He’s trying to sound calm, not like he just noticed with horror he has some cum sticking to his pant leg then, which you seem to notice, tilting your head. 

“I think you’ve got something…” You bend down, brushing it off, making his cock jerk as you look at the sticky substance curiously, blinking while he panics.

“Oh it’s just… it’s some… the glaze, from the donuts!” He’s taking your hand now, and you’re already just licking it off your thumb.

You just licked Choso’s cum.

Fuck.

“You got donuts? Weird you got me bagels this morning. Silly.” You tease now, brushing your thumb back across your skirt, smiling up at him again.

“I uh… raided the… office cafeteria.”

“You have such a sweet tooth!”

You have no idea. Once he tastes you he will never stop.

He doesn’t think he’ll even let you leave,

“I do, okay I’ll bring dessert, you do dinner?” You nod and giggle just a bit, the sound making his heart clench.

“Perfect, I’ll see you after work and give you my address.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Sounds good.” You shut the door, and he leans his head on it, exhaling, as you curiously roll your tongue around your mouth.

What kind of donuts taste like that?

*****

“This is my favorite wine, oh my God how’d you know!?” You take the bottle of blackberry wine, it’s not even common and sold at one specific store, Choso just smiles down at you, looking far too hot in his soft black shirt and jeans.

You only see each other in business gear, but seeing rolled up sleeves revealing veiny forearms is far too much to handle, along with the dessert ingredients he pulls out. “Was just a guess, is all.”

“A great guess.” Choso just smiles softly, with his lidded gaze drifting across the little tank top and skirt you have on. Just from his gaze your nipples press up, as if they’re trying to tempt him with your every breath. Thank you.” You kiss his cheek, making his tummy clench, god he can’t wait to fuck you, fill you, when you’re ready of course, when you’re begging him like the good girl he bets you can be,

“You’re very welcome. Oooh that already smells so good.” You giggle a bit, taking the wine and bag out of his hands, heading over to where the ingredients are sizzling, you’re making steaks that smell far, far too heavenly already. 

God you’re perfect, shimmying a bit when you taste the sauce you’ve mixed up, beckoning him over with your two little fingers crooked up. “Come taste this.”

Choso urges his cock to go down at your innocent words, but were they innocent really, when he sees how your lips curl up at the corner, cozy inside your pretty little kitchen. He can tell you cook a lot by the amount of mixers, grills, devices and utensils neatly lined along your light countertops.

“Delicious, oh my god.” He murmurs, after you hold the ladle to his lips, brushing some sauce off the corner of his mouth with a sigh, for a wild moment you think of kissing it off him.

But he just touches your wrist, wrapping long thick fingers around it completely, the grip so tight it excites you, before he’s just pressing a kiss on it. Great, you’re some horny slut and he’s this… gentleman or something? You could damn near jump him - how good he looks, how long you’ve been wanting this - but you make yourself act correctly, as you watch him work in the kitchen with you.

He’s got the sweetest chocolate mousse, his turn to ask you to ‘have a taste’ and you lap it up off the beater, short circuiting his brain, while he simultaneously takes in absolutely everything in your home. Every little picture, and every knick knack that comprises you. Of course he sees your cat slinking around, right before the movies he goes to pet it.

“He likes you, that’s rare.” You admit, grabbing two glasses of wine, pouring the dark swirling liquid, handing him one as you sit down the plate with the mousse, taking a bite and moaning. “Heavenly.”

He bets you taste heavenly.

He wants to say it, when you’re right next to him, your legs tucked under you, sipping on the wine, leaving a pretty lip print with the color you’re wearing, a color Choso would love to see smeared across your face. He’s tensing as you lean closer, his arm up and above you on the couch, casually strewn as if he’s not losing his mind.

He’s mapping out more of your house even as he casually brushes his hand up and down your shoulder, as the gory movie begins, and he quickly notices you are not a fan. “Everything okay?”

“Too much… oh god…” You’re suddenly against him, he pulls you close to his hard body, as you’re exhaling, shaking your head. “Scary.”

Choso’s fingers brush against the bare skin on your shoulders, when you’re burying your face against his chest, he’d laugh at how cute you are scared of this zombie movie, but you against him alone has him throbbing. Your hands clutching his shirt as your hot little breaths blow on his neck is too much, he can’t take it anymore, not having you.

His hand moves lower, brushing the sensitive skin down your arms, until he drops it to your hip, pulling you closer, hearing your breath catch as he does. Your nipples tighten in reaction, fuck it’s been a while and Choso smells so good, he feels good too. You don’t move for a moment, feeling warmth spread, mixing with the wine in your body.

You were hoping he’d make a move, as you just weren’t one to do so, but his hand doesn’t stray from your hip, as his thighs spread just a bit, and the sounds of the screams on the screen ebb for a moment. “It’s over now, are you alright angel?”

You blush at the nickname, already overheated, shaking your head and snuggling deeper. “No, it was too freaky.”

“You picked it!” You giggle a bit then, pulling back to look up at him, with eyes he can’t wait to have rolling back in your skull, his hand tightens at the thoughts, as your own grip tightens.

“I knew you liked horror, so I wanted to seem cool.” Choso watches you flush, so fucking cute then, and he pulls you more against him, now cupping your face with one of his huge hands. “Is that lame that I remembered that?”

Oh you’re so cute, as if he doesn’t know everything about you.

You’re feeling so small compared to him, when his hand takes over your face with his long, thick fingers, only making you wetter when he brushes a thumb over your lips. “You don’t have to try to seem ‘cool’ with me.”

“Choso… I…” You lean forward now, and your lips touch, but that’s when Choso loses any semblance of hope of remaining normal, calm, shy even, not when he finally gets your lips on his.

You’re on his lap before you can blink, gasping as his tongue swipes inside your mouth, barbell clicking your teeth gently, and you’re pulling back to gasp, looking down at his eyes. So dilated they’re black, he emits the softest growl as he presses your clothed cunt down on his lap, and you cry out, gushing wetness until your panties are sticky.

“God, look at you…” He whispers, his voice is so different, everything about him is, when you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, rolling your hips and feeling his thick length under his jeans.

He yanks you back down, mouths messy as you grind, as you move, nipping at his tongue ring with your teeth and pulling it, as his cock starts pulsing precum from your heat. “Choso…”

“Fuck…” He’s whimpering as you kiss down his neck, up to his ear, and he pulls you down harder, hands slipping up your skirt to grab that ass he’s stared at every day for a year. “You’re so wet.”

“S’much I… embarrassing…”

“No, no, not at all.” He’s pushing you back gently, so he can look at you, your nipples prominent against your top. He nips it over the thin material with his teeth, while you’re leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

He never thought he’d actually have you like this, silently begging him, one of your hands gripping his hair as he pulls down your top, revealing a nipple already perked up for him. You’re panting when he sucks it in his mouth, feeling the weight of the other one in his palm, your tits are even more perfect than he could ever imagine, the thought that anyone ever saw them makes him furious.

No one will again.

“Perfect.” He murmurs, as he is now slipping down his finger until it hits your clit, rolling in small circles over your panties, as he feels himself already too close, when he sees your lidded gaze, your thighs trembling on either side of him. “Can’t help yourself, can you baby?”

“Fuck…” Choso, sweet and shy and blushing, is talking dirty to you, as his barbell is flicking on your nipple, making you ache, so ready he could slip his cock in with ease. “Fuck me, please.” Your words make him pause, words you don’t just say, when have you ever asked- or fuck, begged?

Someone knocks on your door then, and you grimace in frustration, kissing him once more as he feels himself about to bust if you move once more, and the knock continues. “Should you get that?”

“It’s probably my neighbor, they're always asking for rides or for something.” You frown then.

“You’re sweet, that’s why hmm?” You just smile a bit, hoping they’ll go away, but ever persistent you hear her, shouting your name as Choso laughs a bit. “You can get it, it’s fine.”

“It’s so not fine.” You hop up, leaving Choso a moment to breathe as you adjust yourself and head to the door, where your neighbor starts going on and on, and you sigh, looking back at Choso. “Just a minute!”

“No worries.” As you step out on the porch to hear her ranting about another neighbor from what he can catch, you give him the perfect opportunity, he stands quickly, blood rushing to his head, he is so close to busting, he has almost forgotten about the little cameras he has.

He sneaks into your room now, finding it smells so much like you, your little plushies all along the dresser, which he casually takes one and puts a camera in, before opening the drawer, and seeing you do have an insane amount of panties. Just who are these all for he wonders, running a finger over your pretty bras now too, soft and silky and neatly folded.

God he wants them, but, he needs something you’ve worn, these are all clean and smelling of fabric softener, that won’t do. He eyes the rest of your room, your bed just a little rumpled, opening the drawer of your nightstand, scowling when he sees your dildo and vibrator.

You won’t get to use those on yourself once he has a say.

He thinks briefly of tossing them, but that would look a little suspicious, though he contemplates it for a beat too long, as he runs out when he hears the door shut, and stands there casually, pausing the movie as you peer in. “Just one more minute, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s all good.” He smiles sweetly, and exhales in relief, heading to your bathroom now, where he finds the pair he’d seen earlier sitting right at the top of your hamper, those purple ones that you clearly soaked, he sees the wetness left from them and moans softly, before shoving it in his pocket

Finally you’re back inside, kissing him in his arms, up on tiptoes, your own hands trailing down his body, until you’re touching him, and just the touch and he feels himself about to cum. He needs to stroke himself before he even lets you come near him, clearly, he grabs your wrists, and you pause, blinking up at him, lips in a pout.

“Am I moving too fast for you?” You ask then, brows knitting, while Choso tries to envision everything terrible to make his cock stop, panicking.

“No, I just… I have to… I got a call, while you were outside and um… I have to… leave.” He mumbles, you just blink a bit, pulling back and frowning.

“You have to leave right now?”

“Yes I… yes.” Choso kisses your forehead, before darting out and leaving you alone, standing there in confusion.

Were you coming on too strong!?

The thought swirls through your head as you take the glass of half finished wine, plopping down and sitting on your bed, frowning as you peek at your phone, he seemed so into it, was it the interruption, did he think better? You pause a bit, setting the glass down on your side table with a little clink, before laying and spreading your thighs, touching yourself with a hiss.

You’re so wet you’re sticking to them, ugh.

You call him then, right as Choso has your panties on his face, stroking his cock and moaning, he has the image of you laying on your bed when he opens his eyes and peeks at the monitor, rushing to answer your phone. “Choso… I’m sorry, but did I come on too much?”

“What? No, no…” He’s pulsing as he fucks his hand, now entranced by the vision of your legs spread like they are, it’s all he can see, when you’re shifting a bit.

“Okay um… I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

Say something.

Choso wants to so badly, but now he’s leaning forward, staring at you as you touch yourself, hearing a hitch of breath, and he continues stroking his cock as he watches you. “Cho?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I got nervous.” He admits, continuing to watch as you giggle just a bit, gathering your slick when your fingers dip under your panties, he watches your hips roll and hears your little sigh.

It’s like you know he’s watching.

“Are we still cool? I don’t want it to be weird at work.”

“No never, I-”

“I have to go.” You say suddenly, and he watches as the phone falls from your hands, glaring just a bit when you whine out, he can barely hear you, you hang up on him like a little brat.

You are rolling your finger on your clit as you smile just a bit, it’s a little petty sure, but he just walked out on you, so you get just a little satisfaction hanging up, remembering his touch, how good his hot mouth felt on your breasts. How good his length felt pressing up in his jeans, against your clit, god you can imagine how big it is when you slip two fingers in.

Picturing his tongue ring in the most wicked places, you feel yourself drenched, finally pushing down soaked panties, giving him the most perfect view when he finally sees your pussy bare. He blushes, looking away for a moment, should he be going this far he wonders, but he hears his name moaned from your lips, so he continues, wishing he could just call you back.

Just go back.

But he’s not ready- not just yet- you don’t need him enough, do you? But he can tell you’re starting to, as you’re pumping your little fingers in and out of your perfect, pretty pussy- he’s not sure he’s ever seen one that looks that good. He knew it of course but god he can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs, to lap up those juices he sees glistening.

“That’s it baby, cum for me…” He’s murmuring, as you do just that, thighs shaking, as Choso finishes with a whine, and then he could swear you almost smile at that camera, but no way…

*****

You already have breakfast the next morning.

You already have coffee the next morning?

Your boss apparently bought them for you, and you’re sitting right on his desk giggling a bit, as Choso looks on with a scowl, crumpling the brown paper bag as a coworker comes up to him then. “She’s so hot.”

Choso scowls, as another one walks up as well. “Yeah she is, damn dude I thought you were gonna shoot your shot?”

“I… she…” He’s stuttering, you gaze at him and wave a little bit, as Higaruma’s hand is dangerously close to your thigh while you’re sipping on coffee.

“Is she single then?”

“No. She’s not.” They back off when the tall, buff man glares violet eyes at them, and Choso feels his body raging, hand itching to spank that ass of yours till it’s covered in his handprints.

You notice his glare, turning away your face then, you know you shouldn’t be flirting, but you’ve never tried so damn hard to get with a guy who just leaves you in the middle of you grinding on him. He left without even a ‘goodbye’ or ‘had a nice time’ - he ran away, and part of you has your feelings hurt, because it feels like you’re making all the moves.

You could feel his angry gaze all damn day, until you see him at one point stomp off to the breakroom, and you can’t help but follow him curiously, surely a little flirting wouldn’t upset him that much, right? “Choso…”

Choso shuts the breakroom door then, pressing you against it and making you gasp, as he leans over you, one hand on the door, the other gripping you by your dress skirt, making you gasp. Your hands shoot up to his chest, as if to press him away, but when he is sliding up that skirt roughly you feel your heart thudding in your chest, feel your tummy heat up with desire.

Who is this Choso?

“Do you like him?” He demands softly - you blink a bit, biting your lower lip to hold in a slutty moan as his hand slips up your inner thigh, making you tremble.

“Who?” You whisper, smiling just a bit, but the smile freezes when he’s looming even more over you, taking over your every sense.

“Your boss, Higuruma. Do. You. Like. Him.”

You giggle a bit, breathless. “You're jealous, why?”

Choso shocks you when his fingers find you under your skirt, your cunt drooling all over his thick digits when he presses the cotton against you, you're whining out at the touch, clit twitching in response, head falling back against the door. When your eyes threaten to flutter shut, he grips your chin, making you look up at him.

“Do you like him?” He whispers again, and you shake your head nervously, hips arching for more of his touch, and Choso Kamo smirks, a man you’ve never seen do such a thing, a man that blushes and smiles sweetly. “Use your words.”

Fuck.

“No, no I like you… but you don’t- f-fuck…” He’s slipped his fingers under your panties now, exhaling against your lips, sweet breath like mocha against your lips, when he first touches your slick pussy without the barrier, he exhales, his hand on your chin slipping to tangle in your hair.

“You have no clue what I want, so was that… to make me jealous?” He demands, scowling as he sinks two thick fingers inside your gummy walls that grip him, even though he’s so mad at you, he can’t stop thinking how perfect your pretty face looks, how you’re tighter than he could imagine. He pumps inside you, hitting that spongy spot, pressing his lips right against yours. “Answer me, now.”

“Y-yes.” He laughs just a bit, curling his fingers while you’re wriggling in his hold, covering his lips with yours now, drinking in your cries as he hikes a thigh up over his hips, more and more inches of his fingers in your tight little drippy cunt.

“You wanna cum, don’t you baby?” He’s whispering, kissing up your jaw, as you cling to his suit jacket, nodding eagerly, Choso acting like this is nothing you could even fantasize, you hear the squishing of your wetness even in the room. You nod in between his kisses up your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin, as he hits just that spot like he already knows your pussy.

“Please…” You whisper out, and he thumbs your clit now, pressing against it and grinning as he feels you gush wetness, so much it’s insane to him, he’s fingering you in wonder as he feels your body tense.

“Were you a good girl? Do you deserve to?” You whine out when he pulls his fingers out just before you cum, making your lips part, when he sucks you right off his fingers, moaning at your taste, possibly the hottest thing you’ve seen.

You cannot figure him out.

“Good? Are you being good? Can’t answer?” He eases your panties back on, pressing your skirt down as you struggle to function.

“No.” You admit, his cock is pressing against his slacks, leaking precum while he is fixing your hair.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Choso’s whisper resonates through your body, which his dilated eyes trail down. “Tell him you’re not interested, and I’ll actually let you cum, hmm?”

You just nod, gulping as he stares so possessively at you. “When?”

“Tonight, I’ll be at your place. He kisses you once more, a brush of his lips like some insane promise, while everything you think you know is flipped. “I’ll be watching for when you tell him.”

With those words, he’s gone, leaving you to try to compartmentalize his words, his demeanor, as you’re aching for him, leaving you wanting twice now. You huff a bit, glaring up at him. “Fine then.”

“You’re so cute.” You scoff as you walk out, and Choso watches with a proud smile as you back off, as you sit right at your desk, and he sees just how soaked he’s made you.

*****

This time, there wasn’t any wine or awkward talk, there was no movie playing, the moment Choso walks in you’re yanking him by his collar, slamming your lips up on his as he locks the door with a click, his hands slipping up your waist. He pulls back for a moment, taking a breath, before he’s picking you up like nothing, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You were a good girl, did you tell him you’re mine?” You blink a bit then, confused, brows knitting.

“Yours?”

“Mine. Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering now, gripping your ass with his huge hands, earning your whine while he squishes it in his hands. “Did you?”

“I will.” He smiles softly, walking you right to your room, far too familiarly, but you let him, he plops your right down, so the camera will capture the perfect angle, when he starts kissing down your pretty, perfect body.

“You’re being good, a little bit at least.” He’s whispering, dragging your skirt off your hips, revealing another black lace panty, which he touches, finding it dripping with your slick. “Wear new panties every day, they’re all so slutty, do you want people to see her?”

“What? I…”

“Want them looking at what only I should see?” He’s slipping the panties up between your lips, pressing his own cock into your mattress as it’s pulsing from just being this close.

“No. I don’t want them to see.” Your whisper ends him, he laps a hot, wet stripe over panties he has pulled so tight, exhaling at how pretty you are when he looks up at your face, and your hands grip his hair. “I want you to see.”

“Me?” He’s dragging the soaking lace down your thighs, face to face with the pretty pussy he saw on a fuzzy camera, exhaling when he laps your pooling arousal from your slutty little hole. “So you want to drive me fucking crazy?”

“Y-yes…you…” Your sweet murmur along with how you taste ruin him, he’s spreading your plump lips, sucking in a breath as he sees you wide open, feeling your manicured nails pressing into his scalp while your thighs are shaking on either side of his head.

“So you know what you do to me, huh?” He swirls his tongue around your clit, tongue ring hitting it and making you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Answer.”

“N-no I don’t know… I just wanted you to… make a move I-”

“Teasing me? Making me stroke my cock till it hurts? Tsk.” Choso bites at your little clit now, and you’re screaming when he flicks the barbell on your engorged little clit, you’re gushing all down his pretty face. “That’s being bad, you know?”

“I’m s-sorry… you touch your-”

“Oh baby…” He’s looking up under long lashes. “I hope you can make it.”

“Make what!?” Your words are met with a moan as he devours you, shoving your thighs up.

“Hold them up, now.” His dominance not just shocks you, it ends you, the boy you thought you’d suck, ride, show things to, is a fucking menace when it comes to eating pussy.

No one has ever licked you like this, and he’s got two thick digits deep in your pussy, fuck his fingers are bigger than men you’ve been with, you’re spasming around them as you’re rolling your hips up and down. You’re pausing when he’s suffocating against your drooly cunt, his free hand pressing into your thigh, leaving bruises from his fingertips.

“No, fuck my face, like a pretty slut f’me.”

Yep, you’re done.

You do just that, pulling his hair so hard it hurts, as he laps up every bit of your pretty pussy, you’re closer, closer, he feels it, looking up at you with a glistening chin and lips reddened from drinking you. “Cum, let me drink you.”

“Shit…” He’d chuckle but he’s lost in you, in the girl he can’t stop watching, the girl he’s stalked for so long, just begging for him, screaming out, fucking his entire face, up to the straight nose that he buries inside your cunt. “Choso, I’m gonna… f-fuck I’m gonna…”

He just sucks your little clit in his mouth and hums, shoving two fingers and curling them up, when you’re shattering, screaming his name, and he feels himself cumming then, how can he not. His cum is sticking to his boxers, his jeans even, so much white seed pouring when you’re shaking, twitching, and he’s gasping as your thighs tighten on either side of his head.

“F-fuck… oh m-my god…” You’re weak as he leans up, smirking down at you, stroking a cheek. “Let me…”

“No, I’m not done yet.” You blink in confusion, when he stands. “Give me just a minute.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s back from the bathroom, and you’re on your knees, wanting to suck him, but he’s shoved you back down, lapping at you again, and you’re so weak, screaming out his name over and over while his tongue ring flicks your clit and he’s scissoring those fingers.

Choso had cleaned up but he’s hard again, you just do something to him, fuck why do you do this!?

“C-can’t take more… fuck me, please…” He smiles on your thigh, he’ll fuck you soon, but you’re not desperate enough yet, don’t need him enough yet.

“Cum again.” His order is met with him dragging your cunt along his face, and tears start falling with overstimulation, you’re hiccuping, pussy throbbing, so overstimulated. He’s smiling down at you, that sweet smile with dark eyes. “Oh, angel, we’re not close to done.”

“Huh? Choso… I came a lot lemme…”

“Not yet. Been waiting too fucking long.” He’s devouring your pussy again, sipping you up as you keep cumming, your pussy so sweet it’s drugging him, he’s got you bent over, fingers moving in and out as he smacks your ass, but never fucking you, just making you cum over and over with his mouth, his hands.

“C-can’t take anymore… p-please, too much…” You whisper, then he clicks his tongue, pressing kisses to your titties, leaving brutal bite marks all over your chest, thumb hitting your now sore clit.

“You’re even more pretty crying, I knew it.” You’re sniffling, tears, drool all mixing when he kisses you, and you taste your pussy on his lips, as he sticks in three, and you’ve cum so much you can barely move, fatigue dragging you with the force of each orgasm. “One more, f’me, hmm?”

“C-can’t… p-please Choso…” He’s grinning now, brushing your hair back sweetly like he wasn’t three fingers in your sore little cunt.

“Begging me, crying for me, look at you. Do you realize how bad you were today?” You sniffle, nodding, but he’s unrelenting, curling three fingers and making you cry in pleasure and pain. “You’ll get fucked when you act right.”

“Please! Too much… mnh!” Choso’s back down eating you out, he’s lapping his tongue inside your hole, you feel every inch of his tongue, down to the texture as he looks up at the mess he’s made you, you feel the lines of his teeth when he grins, pressing up the hood of your clit. “Ah, ah! M’gonna… pass out I…”

“One more time, you can take it. I need to drink more of you.” You’re shaking your head, but you can’t stop the orgasms he elicits to the point where you’re gasping and clinging to him, to stay tethered, but the last thing you remember before you pass out is violet eyes bright, and a white grin from his face.

Choso laps at you after you’re limp, how can he not, he’s already cum again just drinking your juices, but now you’re so sore even in your knocked out state you’re jerking, hissing. He’s exhaling even, and his breath on your clit with those lips spread, he can watch the poor little thing twitch.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, look at you. So comfortable with me.” He cooes, brushing back your hair as your tears are drying all sticky on your face.

He’s sure the camera caught it, but he can’t help taking some pictures for himself later, while you’re so knocked out you lightly snore, while he brushes the dried tears off gently. He goes to clean his cock off again, coming back to clean you up, dress you once more, your body limp and pliant, just begging for him even in your sleep, but Choso wants your first time with you awake.

He can fuck you in your sleep after.

Curiously he sees your phone text, some guy asking if you’re free for coffee on the preview, and Choso scowls furiously, picking it up. It’s a fingerprint lock, he kisses your hand in an apology before he uses your print, and starts scrolling though, seeing the amount of men that are in your dms. You seem to not respond to many, but this just won’t do!

What if one of them tried to take you?

Choso deletes them all, blocking them one by one, and when he’s done he stands up, tucking you in carefully, brushing a kiss on your lax lips.

“Much better. Sweet dreams, angel.”

*****

“Choso Kamo!” You’re shoving at him that morning, right outside of the office building, he blinks curiously, lids lowering.

“Didn’t eat you out enough? Need more?”

“You- what!?” You hold up your phone, earning his dopey grin. “Where are all my numbers?”

“You have your boss, unfortunately. And me.”

“That’s it aside from like my girls, what the fuck!” He’s scowling down at you now, backing you up until you’re against the wall of the building, where anyone could see you all, his thigh between yours.

“You don’t need to talk to them.”

“You’re not even my boyfriend yet-”

“No, I’m more. You’re more. Everything.” You’re whining as he kisses you, feeling the wet spot on his slacks, while he grips the fat of your ass, pulling you down on him. “You don’t need them.”

“I just-”

“Want me to fuck your pretty pussy?” You gulp now, nodding and looking down, shocked at yourself.

What this man does.

This psychotic man.

How can he look like a kitten but be such a deviant little psycho!?

“Then get in the car. Now.”

“But… work, Choso-”

“Now.” You follow him to his car, and he’s driving insanely fast, for a man that has a damn Volvo, the safest car there is, he’s scaring the fuck out of you, when he reaches  a hand over, pulling you by your hair, kissing you at the light. “You want it, don’t you?”

“I w-want you, yes.” He moans at the words he’s died to hear.

“Then show me.”

Words and actions that seem so foreign, like the sweet exterior of him is peeling back and revealing how depraved he is, how badly he wants you, when you bend over, unzipping him as the car starts, and you’re bracing yourself on his thigh, revealing a pretty, thick cock. Your cunt starts drooling at feeling him inside your mouth, inside your throat, choking him down deep.

“Fuck… why did you have to make me so mad?” He demands, free hand entangling in your hair as you bob up and down him. “Can’t you see I did it for us, for you, to k-keep you… safe… from- mnh…”

Choso whines out as you’re lapping him up, his hand trailing down your spine to find you soaked, his other hand gripping the steering wheel when he comes to another stop. He has never been one to even let women suck him or give him oral very often, but now he finds he wants to wreck your tight little throat, to stop your bratty mouth, the things you do to him.

“Slutty panties, every day.” You should be concerned, worried maybe, but instead you’re soaking them further, as he hits the gas pedal again, forcing your mouth more on him, your tongue tasting the musky, sweet precum coating your mouth. “All for me?”

“Mmhmm…” Is all you can manage, as he continues torturing you over your panties, and comes to a stop, you are lifted off his cock, he swipes the pretty lipstick smeared on your cheek, slamming his lips down furious.

“Don’t drive me so insane, angel. I can’t take it.” He whispers, violet eyes so dilated they look black as he cups your face so tightly you cry out a bit. “I need you to be mine, no one else’s, can you do it for me?”

You nod weakly, body acting against any better judgement. “Y-yes.”

“You’re being so good for me, finally.” He’s smiling all sweet, as if he wasn’t admitting to being insane, and you can’t find any words to complain, when he picks you up in his arms, your arms wrapping his neck, his hands gripping your ass, you barely take notice of his house, aside from when you start seeing pictures of you all over his desk.

“What… is all…”

“Shh, baby.” He’s got you naked in moments, as you look in horror to see your pictures printed and scattered, you blush as you see lotion and tissues. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Psycho, he’s psycho…

But your pussy doesn’t really seem to care.

“Are these my panties!?” You demand, gasping when you see two pairs on his nightstand that look just like the ones you’ve had on, and Choso just shrugs a broad shoulder, arm wrapping around your body, hand slipping up to grip your throat, lips plump against your ear.

“You have plenty, too many really.”

“How-”

“Now.” Is all he murmurs, turning you and unzipping your work dress, watching as the goosebumps rise on your precious skin. “You’ll be all mine, say it angel.”

“H-huh?” He yanks that zipper until you’re completely bare, panting breaths making your chest rise and fall in Choso’s large master bedroom, where you start to see more and more things that are yours.

Missing pony tails, single earrings, a bracelet, how much of you is there exactly you wonder with a gulp, as he’s behind your bare body fully clothed. When he slips an arm around your waist, hand slipping down your tummy, making it tremble in response, your head falls back with how good it feels against any better judgement.

“You knew you did this, admit it angel.” His words are honeyed, you can feel his pout on your cheek, while he’s rubbing your clit with one hand, the other holding your body against his, curve of your back on his chest, when he grips a bare breast, squishing it in his hand and overwhelming you with sensations.

“D-didn’t know… this…”

“Tch, can’t speak already? Try… All mine. Mine, say it. Now.”

“I…”

“Now.”

“Yours.” Choso goes feral then, turning you so you’re looking up at him, and he’s cupping your face so tightly, leaning down as your shaky hands pull at the lapels of his jacket. “Please…”

“Begging, you’re so perfect, sweet like this?” You’re gulping as he steps back, eyeing your body and groaning softly, hands slipping down the sides of your breasts, down to your waist, the jut of your hips, as he drinks in your beauty. “Beautiful.”

One moment degrading, the next looking at you precious, his fingers trailing off while he then slips off his top, and you see him shirtless, his tattooed and buff body, muscles over muscles leaning to a narrow waist. A slutty waist, that’s what he has, with red tattoos along one side of his defined ribs, flat nipples, you briefly register one his pierced as he pulls that shirt over his head.

“God…” You’re trailing fingers down his body, and he turns you, until your knees hit the back of his soft bed, and you’re on your back, throwing you around like you’re nothing, slipping his pants off with your help over the plump of his firm ass, hissing when his cock is free.

“No one else can ever touch you.” His words are batshit, but your pussy is drooling, tummy clenching when he lines his blushing tip, all reddened and sticky with precum, right between your glistening folds. “No one can, right? I can’t hear your cute little mumbles.”

“F-fucking… shit…” He’s smiling a bit, yanking up one of your thighs high, positioning himself at your soppy entrance, whimpering as your hot gummy walls now engulf his tip.

“Need to hear you, words, pretty.” He’s acting all sweet, like he doesn't have his huge cock right against your hole, like he doesn’t have a screen watching your room, apps on his phone now to keep track of you, plenty of rope to keep you from leaving if he needs to, no he looks sweet.

“No one but you.” He exhales, shoving his cock inside you then, you hiss at the burn, nails digging into the strong muscles of his back as you arch up.

“G-good girl… fuck you feel perfect, I knew it.” Choso is lost then, your pussy is so tiny, struggling to take him, gushing down his veiny length to accommodate, but he’s already too far gone, he’s thought of this too much, far too much. “So fucking tiny compared to me aren’t you?”

You’re whining pathetically as he fills you, stretches you with several inches, too fucking many, your thighs tremble on his hips as he grips two of your wrists, pressing sweet kisses as he pushes them over your head, sinking in deeper and earning your hiccup of pleasure. “Choso!”

“There it is…” He’s whispering in wonder, you thought Choso would be passionate certainly, after he’d eaten you out until you literally tapped out, but the feral grin on his sweet face when he eyes you is overwhelming. He lets your wrists go to spread your thighs, moaning as he watches your tummy. “Look how big I am inside you, hmm?”

You blush as you see it, your tummy bulging and moving, he’s enamored by it, while he slows his movements, now a hand is touching your tummy, pressing just a bit to feel it. “Too much… it’s…”

“No, baby you can take it, hmm? Just like last night?”

“I passed out!?”

“You’re so pretty like that, in your sleep..” You gasp as he leans over you further, shoving your thighs up against your breasts, until you’re folded in half. “I’ll take care of you even in your sleep, you don’t have to do anything angel.”

“Choso w-what?” He’s lost now, tip slamming your cervix, pounding your pussy so deep while you’re convulsing around his length, cumming with one more slam so deep, and he moans at the sensation.

“I’ll keep fucking you, don’t worry beautiful girl. Wanted this so fuckin’ long, you know? How long…” Your eyes roll back in your skull, body struggling to keep a hold of any sense as your climax rocks through your body, as Choso’s hands press into the backs of your thighs. “God I can’t wait to fill you over and over…”

“Mnh! Too m-much…” It’s too good, when he grinds and rolls his hips, black hairs on his pelvis grinding into your engorged clit, you’re gripping those blankets, sobbing with a trembling lip as he works you, losing himself in you.

“No, you can keep going f’me, huh baby? Nod for me.” You manage a weak nod, and he’s grinning again, leaning back to spit on your clit, in a thin long trail of saliva, rubbing your clit again while sinking in your fluttering walls. “There we go, need you to take all this cum, can you?”

“Y-yes… ah m’gonna-”

“Cum, milk him baby. So good.” You’re cumming as if on command as his rough thumb and spit hits that spot, and you can’t see anything but black spots and the glow of his violet eyes and his brows contorted, when his hand leaves your clit, to press your thighs up higher. “Ready for me to fill her?”

You gulp, nodding weakly as Choso loses himself finally, in your perfect face, covered in those tears that just make him pulsate more as he finally busts his hot, gooey load so deep in your pussy, which is sucking it in greedily. You feel him everywhere as his white ropes fill your hole, coating your contracting walls, while he’s drunk off you.

Drunk and whimpering in your ear while he has your little frame folded right in half for him, your pussy so eagerly taking all he gives, so wet and messy as he kisses your swollen lips. He tastes the salt of your tears, letting your thighs fall finally, one hand entangling in your hair, pulling your head up as his tongue plunders your mouth, the other slipping down your waist, leaving goosebumps.

“God you took so much, you’re so good f’me, look at you.” You’re whining as he pushes deeper, white drizzles falling down his cock, and you blink into focus, to see his face is soft again, sweet again, like your little work bestie. He even has the audacity to blush just a bit when he leans up, caressing your face. “Perfect, pretty slut for me.”

“For you…” You should hate that, but it just makes your pussy clutch his cock, he moans then, easing out with a suctioned wet pop, his heavy cock making a sticky mess as cum starts pouring from your puffy lips. “Ah! F-fuck…”

“Look at all this, don’t you want all my cum baby?” He asks with a pout, shoving two fingers back in your pussy, watching the cum disappear with a smile.

“Too s-sensitive- you’re c-crazy…”

“You haven’t seen it all yet, baby.”

Choso has you bent over, ass in his face as he’s eating you out from the back, while you’re gripping his sheets, headboard banging on the wall when he’s back inside you, deeper like this. He has you cumming again and again, eventually tying you right up to the headboard, ropes digging tightly in your skin as he looks down at you, covered in him.

His cum, his handprints, his bites.

His, you’re his.

“I need some pictures, pretty, just a moment?” You’re delirious as you shake your head, tugging at the knots he has you in, but he’s already up, and for a brief moment you take in the surroundings, of all the things he’d stolen.

You panic momentarily when he’s back, and he’s smiling with a lidded gaze, caressing your cheek gently, down the curve of your neck. “Choso?”

“I’ll untie you, I won’t just leave you like this. Well…”

“Choso…”

“I won’t, don’t worry pretty.” He’s thinking of it, of never letting you leave the bed, he could just feed you right, keep you tied at the wrists when you needed things- 

Nah.

He shouldn’t.

Right?

“You won’t leave me now, hmm?” He’s pressing kisses on your forehead so sweetly, as you sniffle just a bit, shaking your head, earning his exhale relief. “Just a few pictures.”

Choso’s snapping them then, dark messy hair falling over his brow, adding them to the collection of photos of you inside your home, from out your window mostly, along with those from last night, of course he’d printed them. He’s positioning you just so, pressing sweet kisses while he snaps away on his phone, finally releasing your wrists, rubbing them so gently.

“Are you alright, angel?” He is frowning, so concerned like he didn’t have a growing collection of your things, you just nod a bit, as he sees where your vision heads, sighing. “I’ve had a… crush.”

“A crush?”

“Well, a really big crush. I’m in love with you.” He’s cupping your face now, smiling down at you. “Maybe I was a little shy?”

You blink before bursting into laughter, you’re losing it, you may just die or be trapped here, but you’re too fucked out to comprehend it. “Shy?”

“Yeah. You’re just so perfect, I needed the right moment. But you were bad, weren’t you? Made me so jealous.” He’s glaring, hand tightening around your throat as he kisses your lips so tenderly, thumb on your fluttering pulse. “You won’t make me jealous again, right baby?”

You shake your head, letting him kiss you now.

Choso has no intentions of letting you go, it’s the next morning and you can barely walk as he’s grinning at you, shirtless and handsome, cooking up pancakes and all sorts of yummy things. Your tummy growls in response, trying to forget the horror as you’d seen you were his pc background even, his phone background, finding more and more things all over.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He comes to you, flour on his cheek which you brush off with a trembling hand. “You should skip work today.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, don’t worry. It’s for the best, that's all, you can stay here.”

“Choso, so soon?”

“I can’t have you working, I need you home, our home. Eating good…” He’s forking a bite of pancake into your mouth, as horror mixed with the sweetness mixes in your body.

“I mean, just a day off?”

“Sure, a day.” He’s smiling brightly, as if he hasn’t already sent your boss a video of your cum pouring out of your pretty hole.

He’s sure he enjoyed it, but maybe not the not so friendly message associated with it.

But you won’t need that job anyway!

“Okay, a day won’t hurt.” You sit down and wince, sore from the endless amounts of times he’d stuffed you full with his cock.

“You need tylenol and coffee!” He’s quick to grab them for you, sitting next to you, brushing your hair back as you swallow the pills so quickly, he brushes back your hair gently, oh he’s so proud of you. “Good girl, hmm? You’re gonna feel better soon.”

Choso is BATSHIT in this my god ahaha, I cracked up writing the donut scene AND the end- TYSM again for 9k followers I am so glad you all enjoy my bullshit lol. Love you all and see you in the comments hehe <3

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[dollgxtz]

When Pleasure Calls

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: In the middle of sex, Sylus gets a business call...only he decides he doesn't want to stop ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, humiliation, use of evol, use of petnames like kitten, oneshot

AN: Okay so this is loosely based on a tweet I saw and it literally wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it....so here we are. I figured the best way to end my break and start being more active again was to start writing all the fics that won't leave my head. Enjoy!

Sylus was balls deep inside you, each thrust a raw, primal connection that left you both breathless. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his low groans, creating a rhythm that was all your own. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, keeping you both locked in the moment, lost to everything but each other.

It had been an entire week since you’d spent any real time together—a week that felt more like a year. Sylus didn’t waste a second making up for the lost time. What started as an innocent cuddle on his bed, his arm lazily slung over your waist, quickly shifted into something else entirely. One minute, he was tracing slow circles on your back, murmuring something about how much he’d missed you, and the next, the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken need.

Somehow, without either of you meaning to, that easy closeness morphed into a full-blown, heated mess of tangled limbs and stolen breaths. His lips found yours, first soft and teasing, then hungry and demanding, as if he needed to make up for every second you’d been apart. Before long, the room was filled with the sound of muffled laughter, whispered names, and the quiet creak of the mattress as you lost yourselves in each other.

His hands roamed over you with a possessive tenderness, fingers tracing the curves of your body, memorizing the lines anew with every pass. The weight of him above you was a comforting pressure, a grounding force as you surrendered to the tide of sensation, every thrust a wave that built the pleasure higher and higher, threatening to crash over you.

"Nghn, right there! Don't stop, please..." you pleaded, your voice hoarse with desire, your fingers digging into his muscular frame as if your life depended on it. Sylus, attuned to your every need, knew he had found that sweet spot within you, that spongy, pleasure-laden tissue that sent sparks of delight through your body.

Just as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and harder, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy, the sharp ring of his phone cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the intimate atmosphere. You froze, your eyes widening as you glanced at the illuminated screen, the unfamiliar contact name confirming your suspicion—one of Sylus's business associates.

Sylus sighed, his brow furrowing as he eyed the screen with a mix of annoyance and detachment. "I can call them back later. I’m busy right now."

That’s when it hit you—the mission. The Hunters Association’s urgent directive to recover the stolen protocore, traded away through shady backchannels. You had completely forgotten about it until now. The urgency surged through you like a jolt of electricity. Without thinking, you grabbed his arm. "Didn’t you say you were expecting a call about the protocore? This could be it. I need that lead for the Association. Answer it," you urged, your voice firm despite the sharp look Sylus threw your way.

He blinked, then smirked, the kind that was equal parts amused and incredulous. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to my kitten barking orders at me," he said, his tone dripping with lazy charm. But to your relief, he reached for the phone anyway. "Alright, boss. Consider it a favor."

He pressed the screen and lifted it to his ear. His voice dropped into that cool, no-nonsense register you’d heard a dozen times before.

"Speak."

The man on the other end began to speak and you realized Sylus was still halfway inside you. Thinking the fun was over for now, you started to move out from under him, ready to let the moment pass. But Sylus wasn't done. His hand pressed you back down against the bed, and before you knew it, he was thrusting into you again, impossibly deeper this time, his cock filling you completely.

You struggled, caught between surprise and arousal, your body pinned beneath his, his cock completely filling you with each powerful thrust. You tried to silently plead for him to stop, embarrassed by the situation, but your words were lost in the quiet moans that escaped your lips as he pounded into you, his pace relentless. You quickly covered your mouth with your hands, trying to will yourself to quiet down.

"I'll only meet tomorrow. That's firm" he said into the phone, his voice steady despite fiercely pounding and stretching your pussy. As if this took zero amount of effort from him. You tried to keep quiet, biting your lip and keeping your hands pressed to your mouth to stop the sounds from escaping, but it was hard. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through you, making it nearly impossible to maintain your composure.

You attempted to scoot back against the bed, seeking respite from the pleasure Sylus was delivering, but your efforts were in vain. With a swift and possessive motion, he wrapped his powerful Evol around your waist, pulling you back onto his cock, sealing your body to his, ensuring you couldn't escape the sensations he was about to unleash.

"Ah...ah..." you panted, your breath coming in short gasps as he thrust deeper, his cock seeking out that sensitive spot within you once more, very determined to bring you right to the edge.

Sylus kept talking, his voice smooth and calm, even as he moved inside you with a fierce rhythm. The phone call was just background noise to you, but you caught snippets of his conversation, the professional tone at odds with what was happening.

"Yes, I understand," he murmured between thrusts, his voice a soothing contrast to the pounding of his cock against your sensitive walls. "No tricks, or foul play. You should know how this goes by now."

You were struggling, trying to focus on anything but the way he was driving you closer to the edge. Each thrust felt like it was pushing you further into a world where nothing else mattered but the heat and friction between you.

Minutes ticked by as this humiliation continued. How much longer could you hold on? How much longer would he torture you like this? The question echoed in your mind, a desperate plea for relief as your body teetered on the brink of finishing.

Sylus's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and desire as he looked down at you, fully aware of the power he held over your pleasure. He knew exactly how close you were, how your body trembled on the precipice of release, and he relished the control he had, maintaining a casual conversation while pushing you to the brink.

A knowing smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the game he was playing—testing your limits, seeing how far he could take you while keeping up the pretense of a casual chat. His eyes held a challenge, daring you to surrender, to let go of your control, even as he kept his voice calm and composed, a stark contrast to the raw passion he was eliciting from your body.

He continued his steady thrusts, his movements purposeful, each one designed to drive you further into a world of pleasure, where resistance was futile, and surrender was the only option. Sylus took pleasure in watching you struggle, your body betraying your attempts to hold on, even as he maintained his casual conversation, a master of this sensual game.

"Yes, that will do," Sylus confirmed, his voice steady, his pace merciless as he continued to thrust into you. "I'll have my men prepare the meeting."

Your response was a muffled moan, your body arching against his, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you. "Mghn... Ah!" you cried out into your hand, your voice a mixture of surrender and ecstasy, your body trembling on the edge of release, the sensations too powerful to hold back.

Sylus, his body slightly glistening with sweat, paused for a moment, his thrusts slowing as he looked down at you with an intense gaze. His eyes, red and smoldering, held a silent command, a silent invitation for you to surrender completely. A slight smirk played on his lips as he watched you, his expression conveying a clear message:

"Go ahead, cum for me."

The tension inside you coiled tighter, every nerve screaming for release as he begun to pick up the pace once more. You bit down on your hand, trying to keep the sounds from escaping, but it was a losing battle. Sylus's thrusts were unrelenting, each one bringing you closer, until finally, with one last, deep push, he let go, pumping his hot and sticky seed deep into your belly just as he wrapped up his call.

The sensation was too much, too intense to resist. Your body tensed around him, shaking with the force of your orgasm, your muffled moans filling the room as you rode the waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"Alright. See you then," Sylus said, finally hanging up the call. He pulled out slowly, leaving you both breathless and spent, the hum of the conversation now just a memory drowned out by the echo of your shared climax.

You lay there, catching your breath, the remnants of your climax still thrumming through your veins. But as the haze of pleasure began to clear, irritation started to bubble up inside you. You propped yourself up on your elbows, shooting Sylus a look that could melt steel.

"Seriously?!"

He caught your gaze and simply chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that only fueled your annoyance. "Oh, don't act like you didn't like it," he said with a grin, clearly amused by your reaction. "How could I ignore a needy kitten in heat for a phone call instead?"

Your glare could have sliced through stone, but he just shrugged, unfazed by your anger. "Besides," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he chuckled, "I'm great at multitasking. I just secured you that protocore and made you cum while doing so. Shouldn't you be overjoyed right now?"

Despite your best efforts to hold onto your anger, the corners of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upwards into a reluctant smile. The heat rising to your cheeks was undeniable, a flush that had nothing to do with anger. His laughter was infectious, and before you knew it, you were chuckling too, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a playful roll of your eyes. "I'll forgive you this one time, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

Sylus grinned, clearly pleased with your surrender. "Deal," he said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved with that easy confidence of his, leaning down to scoop you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, carrying you towards the bathroom with a tenderness that were a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. His touch was gentle now, a soothing balm to the fire that had raged between you, and you found yourself relaxing into his hold, the last remnants of your irritation melting away as you settled into the comfort of his embrace.

[uravitypng]

𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲

pairing: yandere satoru gojo x chubby reader

summary: at the beginning gojo made your life hell when he first sees you because you won't give him attention. then it all changes, he just hated seeing you cry and he'll use all his resources and power to love you and spoil you

word count: 14.7k words

a/n: okay okay! i'm back! with something incredibly longer compared to every other oneshot i've written. i started this before gojo's birthday but it just kept getting longer and longer, then came the holidays and then i got ill too but it's finally finished, yay! i hope you all enjoy this and of course like always make sure you read the warnings before reading x

content warnings: gojo is a yandere!! friends to lovers, hints of stalking, gojo manipulates everyone, mentions of breeding, fingering, rough unprotective sex, cumming inside, gojo calls her 'silly girl' in his head and thinks she thinks to much (kind of like 'you don't need to think or make decisions or earn money because i can do that for you'), dirty talk, dumbification, objectification(?), submissive reader, dominant gojo, petnames: princess, sweetheart, (good girl) (if i've missed anything please let me know because it's very possible with 14.7k words - mdni / 18+

everyone flocks to satoru gojo, girls and guys alike, they want his attention, if only for a second, and want to be noticed by him. he's the beating heart to every social situation, with an ability to draw every single eye in the room on him, feeding off the spotlight and admiration. whatever he wants he gets it, he has since he was a young child so why are you being so difficult?

there's not many who he considers his equal, if he had to pick out one it would be his best friend from childhood suguru geto, two families telling their children to talk to the other in hopes to form more connections. gojo remembers to this day being five years old dressed up in a suit that was too stuffy for any five year old to wear, taken to a party with his parents. everywhere he looked there were elites and politicians, anyone and everyone with power. he remembers the nudge his mother gave him towards suguru's direction, telling her son to make friends. others at the university are lesser than him, but they're entertaining for a short duration, before he gets bored of them and tosses them away for someone else, that is.

then there's the nobodies, the lowest of the low. uninteresting in every way possible with nothing to offer him, nothing to pique his interest and in terms of satoru gojo you're a typical nobody but even the nobodies look his way when they think people won't notice. even the really shy ones or the stubborn ones who always say how much they despise how everyone adores him will momentarily glimpse in his direction when they think no one's looking.

but you... you look right past him, and it pisses him off. do you think you're better than him? even people in long term relationships eyes drift to him, most would break up with their partner for just one night with him. this 'most' mainly means all, everyone wants a chance to be with the man whose sexual escapades are spoken about frequently in such a high regard.

it's not like you don't know about his existence, you do, but you want to keep yourself to yourself. even your closest friends talk about the famous satoru gojo but he gives you the shivers for some reason. you've never spoken to him and you don't intend to, even if it's everyone's dream, it's not yours, something's just not quite right about him. you live in completely different worlds, different universes, and you prefer to dream about things more realistic, maybe dragons and flying saucers on occasion but never satoru gojo. not only is associating with him unrealistic but just the thought of him makes you shudder. he's too cocky, too self-assured, too arrogant, too loud, too... attractive, it doesn't seem right that someone would look that good. it's like he's hypnotised everyone bar you.

first it's irritation when he notices your behaviour, it's clear when you're acting the complete opposite to everyone, then it's anger when he sees you pay attention to someone that isn't him. something must be wrong with you if you're laughing at a joke that he didn't make, a joke told by another nobody, not just a nobody but someone a year younger. his actions are fuelled by his anger and his annoyance towards you. he makes sure every friend and acquaintance you have stops talking to you, it's easy really. all those so called 'friends' leave you alone after 'overhearing' hushed voices talk about how gojo's more likely to talk to someone when they're not friends with someone who's like you. it was easy to orchestrate it, all he needed was two girls who constantly fawn over him, perfect for doing his bidding.

"gojo never talks to yumehara, even though she tries so hard."

"yeah, it's because she's friends with moriyama. associating with someone like her is a no-go."

"moriyama?"

"yeah, you know that girl in class a, the one who thinks she's better than everyone and doesn't care about gojo."

you now sit by yourself and walk the corridors alone- easy. if he was more sympathetic towards you he'd almost feel bad that all of your friends would stop talking to you so readily.

next was your grades. the gojo family funds the university meaning that he had much more power than the average person, even more than people who also come from wealthy families. professors know it's in their best interest not to get on the bad side of the heir of the gojo family, not just for the university's sake but for themselves as well. one wrong move and they'll be fired, blacklisted throughout town unable to get a job. one wrong move and the university could lose all their funding. he wields more power than the headmaster.

you already get average grades, typically b's and occasionally c's but if he plays his cards right he knows he can lower those c's another extra grade down to an f and he knows just who to start with. professor iura: a man in his mid-thirties who's respected by all and he knows you like him. he's been told you try extra hard in his class, taking double the amount of notes in his lectures than you ordinarily do. he knows getting an f in his class first would be more hurtful than over all the other classes.

"professor iura don't you think the girl who wrote the paper on-" he stops mid sentence, what did you write about again?- "something so boring it hasn't even sunk in. i remember everyone else's but not hers." he only remembers his own and there was never any reason to see what a nobody like you wrote about.

the professor's eyebrows furrow before quickly schooling his expression back to impassive. satoru has used his influence before but iura's never heard about him using it as payback for whichever poor soul's caught his ire. "who is it?" iura thought you deserved an a this time, it's disappointing that he'll have to give you an f.

all these things start stacking up and you feel like the universe is against you, you don't understand your sudden drop in grades or why your friends won't talk to you. you do your best to put on a brave face but you feel alone, you have no one to turn to, you don't understand why everyone gives you the cold shoulder and why they pretend you don't exist, your facial expression dropping when someone ignores you for the umpteenth time. you don't understand how your water always seems to spill in your bag all over your things even though you swear you've put on the lid securely, screwing the lid on the bottle so tightly your hands suffer the consequence, almost raw, from how tight you've tried to make it. you can't afford to buy another textbook and you don't have enough time to rewrite your essay.

you don't understand how things go missing every time you look away. you glance to the window when you see a falling leaf, burnt orange and crimson red litter the floor outside. autumn is so beautiful, a season of harvest and abundance but it's a reminder to you that nothing lasts forever, leaves fall and people leave. people talk about how autumn is maturing but omits the melancholy idea that it's just growing old, that burnt oranges and crimson reds are just rotting on the ground. your whole world is rotting with every second, the universe has it out for you and by the time you look back into the room your pen is missing.

gojo takes pleasure from seeing your face at these times, that puzzled look and biting your lip in frustration as you've lost another pen or that pout when your friend ignores you, he thinks it looks pretty on you. not that he'd ever admit that of course.

his pleasure twists though, into a new emotion- a darker emotion. you got another f and you look... sad... distraught. satoru enjoys seeing your pout when something goes wrong for you, he thinks it's pretty but he's watching you like a hawk right now, he can't take his eyes off you, he can tell you're trying desperately to hold it all together but you can't stop your eyes from welling up, it's impossible to stop your waterline brimming with tears, overflowing like a broken tap, hot tears running down your face, you attempt to quickly wipe your tears away with the back of your sleeve in hopes that nobody has seen but it's too late for that. he thought he would take pleasure in seeing you cry but instead it's pure rage. even though he's the one that's convinced all of your professors to give you f's, all he feels is fury for them making you cry. he doesn't want you to cry, he wants to keep you safe, wants to make you all his.

in the following weeks professors leave the university without announcing it to students. leaving studies and classes in a limbo for awhile. not just the professor who made you cry is gone but also iura and several others.

with that limbo period came more group projects to fill in the space of the lack of lectures. a 'little' push from satoru to higher ups and you were paired up together, leaving you no choice to spend time together and have your first conversation with each other. at this point he needed to be near you. you sit across from each other after class and you introduce yourself to each other, even though you both know who the other is, you didn't expect him to know you and he acts like he doesn't. "oh i know you, i really liked your last paper. you got an f, right? i can't believe that, it was the best one." after all your friends avoiding you and all those f's getting validation makes you shyly smile, your cheeks feel warm and you're starting to understand why people like him.

things start to change after that. your f's go back to normal and people are kinder, with everything going back to normal satoru makes sure you're still alone though, makes sure your friends continue not to talk to you. he's the only one that's allowed to do that. your friends still don't spend time with you, instead gojo does and honestly you don't mind that change, you appreciate that change, you don't know what happened with your friends but you like how gojo doesn't dismiss your emotions and opinions like they used to do.

you previously had that inkling that something was wrong with him but his easygoing smiles and playful words make you enjoy your time with him and his once overconfidence that you always used to observe which once bothered you now makes your heartbeat go crazy in your chest, like marching drums hammering away against your ribcage.

satoru notices this change in you and he takes advantage of it. this change doesn't make him lose interest in you, maybe if you were someone else it would but not with you, if anything it makes him more interested because he learns more and more without you, some with your consent and knowledge others without it. he thinks you look so cute when you smile and he loves hearing you laugh. he never really liked music but he's listened to all those music and songs you share to the world like the ones you love that you play in cars and talk to people about them, plus the more secret ones hidden in your likes and private playlists. he loves the things you do that you don't realise you're doing, the soft sighs you make when you put on a warm coat when it's cold or the hums when you drink a hot drink. how you bite your pen when you're deep in thought and linger by the door before leaving the house and locking up, mentally checking you have everything you need with you. the little moans you make when you eat something that you love, at those times satoru has to restrain himself from kissing you. he loves it all. he loves you.

you see each other whenever possible and if you can't you'll be texting, he'll send you emoji's at the end of messages that you don't understand the context to and will send you selfies and photos of cats he's seen while around town.

after the first few times at the library you tend to see each other at café because they're more relaxed and you can talk as loud as you want to. he starts paying for your lunch whenever you're together, you always used to insist to pay yourself but after the first few times you relented, he could buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday for the rest of your life yet it still wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. not only does he buy you lunch now but it's much more extravagant then you could afford for yourself.

you're walking together past a store front window and gojo sees something that catches his eye, stopping where he is and pulling on your sleeve to stop you too. "look at this!"

your eyes scan the window not knowing what he's talking about, all of them are designer clothes but none of them are men's. "what are we looking at gojo?"

he grins and points to a blouse, "that would look so good on you, you'd look so cute!" 'doubtful' you think. you scoff, that is a cute blouse but no way. "hey, what was that for? it's true." he insists.

"i don't even need to go in there to see that it's way out of my price range, plus designer brands like that never have my size anyway."

"you didn't say you didn't like it."

"me liking or not liking it isn't the point."

you carry on the rest of your day like it didn't happen and you forget about the whole thing. gojo doesn't.

all of gojo's fans start to get jealous of you, it's been over three months, the limbo period is over and new people have been hired, group projects are finished but you still spend all your days together. his previous relationships have been no more than eye candy only lasting a couple weeks yet you don't even seem to be dating so why is he always smiling when you talk and is walking you everywhere. they can't comprehend it, you're a nobody.

satoru loses it one day. you've gone to hand in your library book, it's overdue and you had forgotten about it, you needed it for when you and gojo were working together but you forgot all about it. gojo's waiting outside for you, you know the librarian likes you more so you've told him it's better if you go on your own, he knows that isn't true but as long as the librarian is kind to you he won't intervene. 'if the librarian knows what's good for her she'll let it go and not upset you.'

someone gojo vaguely recognises as a cheerleader who suguru slept with a few times spots him and goes over to him, leaning against him and pushing her breasts up against him. it disgusts him. "what are you doing here gojo? don't tell me that friend of yours is making you wait for her." she says in a sickly sweet voice and his eye twitches. he doesn't reply, she should get the idea and leave. "if i were her i'd never do that. why don't you come hang out with me? me and my friends are having a party later we'd love it if you'd come. normally i wouldn't come up to you so boldly but i think i'd be able to show you a good time, not like that girl you're always spending time with, you're so out of her league." she runs her hand along his arm but he grabs it tightly making her wince.

"don't ever fucking talk about her again," gojo responds coldly. he squeezes tighter and she yelps. he lets go of arm and pushes her away, almost in revulsion that he touched her. she stumbles and leans against the wall, looking shocked. at that time you push open the door with a relieved look on your face. satoru ignores the girl, acting like she doesn't exist, he smiles brightly at you. "everything okay?"

"yeah, she was surprisingly very understanding," you return his smile and shut the door behind you. when you shut the door you see the girl leaning against the wall staring at gojo and you wonder why. you've seen lots of gojo's fans but none of them have looked at him like that. you turn your attention back to gojo, not really wanting to engage with the girl if you can help it, you've never seen her before but you can tell that she's someone who would make your life hell if you knew each other as teenagers. "is everything okay?" you ask him, vaguely gesturing to her.

he grins and strolls towards you lifting up his sunglasses and lifting up your chin to look at him, forcing you to make eye contact and in doing so you get flustered and frazzled. gojo would sometimes put his arm over your shoulder when your walking together or grab hold of you quickly from behind unexpectedly, making you jump but this is the first time it's ever been so intimate. it's also rare for you to see gojo without his sunglasses on. "everything's fine." he grins and pats your head jokingly making you glare and pout. he snickers as he sees your reaction and lets go of your chin, slinging his arm over your shoulder.

"alright, if you say so, but for lunch i'm getting extra for that, i'm not some pet." you grumble and walk off together. satoru's mind flashes with images with you on your knees, 'i think she'd make a good pet. maybe i should buy her a collar.' he snickers again and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, "what's so funny?"

"nothing," he smirks. as you walk away he turns back around to look at the girl still standing there paralysed and glares hard at the girl. normally people would be swooning when they see his bright blue eyes like the clearest spring days but not right now, they'd all be wrong, his eyes aren't clear like any warm day they're frozen over and icy, with flecks of white and all that girl feels is despair and dread. he looks at her so cruelly, it makes her unable to move- frozen in place.

you haven't seen gojo for the last few days, it's the longest you've gone without seeing him since you became friends. even if you've both been busy previously gojo makes sure to have seen you, even if it's only for a minute, but you've both been too busy. gojo has had basketball practise in the day and in the night his family demands his attendance whilst discussing family affairs and you on the other hand have been busy studying, wanting to make sure you don't get any f's again. you don't realise you won't though, everything could be incoherent with each other word being spelled terribly and you'd never get an f again, gojo's made sure of that. he won't let anyone make you cry again.

you rhythmically tap your fingers, fidgeting on the table where your laptop and textbooks are, 'i want to see him.' satoru's scored another goal, this time a three point line goal, normally he goes for slam dunks but as long as he's the one scoring it doesn't really bother him. he's got a big game coming up and you're going to be there, you're going for him, you've never been to any of the games before, not having any real interest in the sport but now your friend is the star player so you're not going to miss any games. he'll score every single point his team makes so your eyes have no option but to focus on him and after the match you'll compliment him. the coach asks him something but it's all white noise to him, 'i miss her.'

you get a text on the fourth day of not seeing him and when you read the message you smile so wide your face becomes sore. 'the last few days have been so long without you! i know we normally go out for lunch but do you want to go for dinner?'

you don't hesitate responding, 'i'd love too!'

'i'll pick you up an hour before our reservations, i've brought you something.'

'reservations? did you plan tonight? and what's this about buying me something? you already pay for my lunch.'

'i've pulled some strings xoxo see you tonight.' you scowl when you read that he's blatantly ignored your comment about buying you something and if he's went out his way to pull some strings for this meal it must be more than a fast food drive-thru or the equivalent. you didn't really expect him to take you somewhere where you can eat in your car or it's acceptable to wear a three day old top and a hoodie that is a little too small but for him to go to the effort of pulling strings this must be a sophisticated place.

half an hour later you hear your phone again, multiple messages being sent one after another, five buzzes. 'shit.' 'I FORGOT' 'i forgot to send a time!' 'i'll see you at 6.' 'pretend this never happened.' you cover your face with your phone and giggle.

by six you're ready, it's taken you longer to get ready then you'd like to admit but you wanted to look pretty, it would be embarrassing to underdress. compared to gojo anything you or any 'normal' person would wear looks cheap in comparison to all his designer clothes but you spent hours making sure it would be suitable.

it's ten past six when you hear a knock on the door. opening it you see gojo in all his glory, his attractiveness on full display and his wealthiness showing, wearing an all black giorgio armani suit with a white shirt underneath, his sunglasses look different than normal, fancier, you think you can make out a ray-ban logo. he's wearing a rolex watch which is more than double your monthly rent. his hair looks shorter than the last time you saw him, he must of had a haircut in the last few days. it's obvious the way your eyes linger on him, checking him out and gojo grins as you unknowingly fuel his pride and ego.

"awe, you look so cute princess," gojo says playfully, smirking. princess- the first time he had called you that you malfunctioned, your eyes had widened and you forgot to breath. no one else has ever called you a term of endearment before and you didn't expect your friend, satoru gojo, to be saying it. you didn't ask why he called you it, why would you? it made your fingertips tingle and the inside of your chest to warm up. "can i come in?" you nod your head and move to the side to give him enough room to come in and close the door after him. "you really do look beautiful," he says gently, you don't think you've ever heard him speak so tenderly before.

"you look good too gojo, you always do but- but tonight as well," you tell him, bashfully smiling. he grins and his eyes gleam with glee at the genuine compliment. he loves when you compliment him, it feels different than the vapid ones others offer him, even if you compliment him with only a few words it means a greater deal.

behind his back he's carrying a sleek black box with a scarlet red chiffon ribbon wrapped around it in a bow containing his gift to you, your eyes narrow when he hands it too you, although your voice is soft and quiet when you say, "it's not my birthday gojo, why are you buying me things? you don't have to do that," your voice gets quieter with each word spoken.

gojo takes your hand in his and places the box in your hand. "i can buy you things because i can. i have enough money and i want to spend it on you," he tells you firmly and your stomach flutters with butterflies but you don't know why, his hand is awfully soft maybe that's why your heart is racing or maybe it's because he spoke to you firmly like there's no room for arguments. gojo cups your cheek with his unoccupied hand and strokes it, your whole body melts at the action, "just open it 'kay?"

you nod your head and hum, relenting- just like you did when he began paying for your lunch. you delicately unwrap the bow, not wanting to ruin the box, and open it, you didn't know what to expect, you could of been given a hundred guesses and a hundred days to guess what he brought you and you still would have no clue. you pause as you open up the lid, your heart skips a beat and it's almost as if the air was stolen from your lungs like deflated balloons as you breathlessly say, "satoru! what's this?" inside the box is the blouse you were looking at all those weeks ago, the one you said was too expensive, the one you said would never fit.

'satoru' it's the first time you've ever called him by his given name and it sounds so angelic coming from your lips that he's forgotten to breathe, everything pausing and not moving. "do you like it?" he finally asks.

you nod your head in an almost daze, you're in awe that he'd really give you something so beautiful, that he would go out of his way to buy it. "i- i don't deserve this gojo."

he steps closer to you, "uh uh, what's with calling me gojo again?"

your eyes widen as you realise that only a second ago you called him by his given name, "oh! i'm so sorry! i was just in shock, i didn't mean to call you that gojo," you ramble.

he smoothed out the wrinkles of his forehead rubbing it with his fingers, which is currently caused because he finds your lack of awareness disconcerting. "that isn't what i meant princess, i want you to call me satoru. i want to give this to you."

"oh... okay," you're quiet and you've pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. it won't be hard to start calling him satoru, you already call him satoru in your head. after a long pause of you trying to put your thoughts all together you start speaking again, "are you sure about this satoru? this is bound to be expensive, right? it's- it's ralph lauren isn't it? isn't this too expensive too be spending on me." gojo has to hide a smirk at that, 'has she forgotten how rich i am?' "and, and i don't want you to think that i want to spend time with you because you have money or anything!" 'ah she's adorable, i could just cancel our reservations and have her on her knees the whole night to say thank you for the blouse... i couldn't do that though, not right now... if i don't see her in that blouse in the next five minutes i'll go insane.'

"of course i'm sure about this princess, i know you'd never spend time with me for clothes from ralph lauren." he resists the urge to pull you in by your waist and kiss you, he doesn't want to overwhelm you, not at this moment.

you take the blouse out of the gift box and hold it out in front of you, there's a twinkle in your doe eyes as you look at it in wonder, knowing that this is yours, whispering, "pretty," it's barely audible. "wait, i didn't think this store went up to my size? did you go to a different store? and... how do you know my size." you ask him confused.

"i have my ways," he answers and winks at you, you scoff at the wink and narrow your eyes.

"seriously satoru," you press him. 'ah she could ask me anything and i'll tell her if she keeps calling me satoru.' "actually i know you know my size from when you've seen my coats and jumpers lying around but-" 'oh yeah... that's totally how i know...' "- how did you get it in my size?"

"annoyingly they don't actually make that particular blouse in your size... how ridiculous is that, sadly i don't have enough money and connections to make them ruined and bankrupt." he says nonchalantly, casually waving his arm around. you bark out a laugh thinking that he was joking. he wasn't. if even one article of clothing isn't made in your size it should only be fair for the brand to lose all their money and reputation, no matter what the brand is.

"hold up how do i have this if it doesn't come in my size?" you cock your head to the side quizzically and for the second time gojo thinks about buying you a collar, maybe with a matching lead...

he grins and flicks his eyes back and forth between your face and the blouse you're holding up. "obviously i got it custom made,"

"that's- that's obvious?!" you splutter and he laughs.

"obviously." he reiterates, enjoying your reaction- dumbstruck and lips parted in near disbelief.

"it'll take us thirty minutes to get to the restaurant princess and our reservations in about forty minutes." he lets you know and you snap out of your stupor.

"i'll just get my bag."

"hang on!" satoru rushes out before you can leave to get your bag. "you look beautiful right now princess but don't you want to see how that blouse looks on you?" you shift your weight from side to side, heat rising to your cheeks. 'do i really have time to get changed? i spent so long choosing this outfit too.' before you can say something gojo stops you, not wanting to give you an opportunity to say no or think to hard about it. he wants you to do it, you don't have to have an opinion on the matter, leave that him. sometimes you can't be trusted when it comes to these things. "come on princess, i'm the one who brought you it. just wear it, please. i want to make sure it fits properly."

you yield, "okay let me go get changed."

satoru smirks, 'good girl.'

as you come back out of the bedroom adrenaline bursts through his veins. you twirl around, pausing when you circle back round to gojo and picking up the hem of your skirt playfully with one hand and doing a half curtsy, it's such a happy coincidence that the blouse pairs so well with the skirt you're already wearing, "how do i look?" 'beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal.'

"perfect," he replies dreamily and you giggle, thinking he isn't being serious and is exaggerating.

"i'm serious satoru," you tell him, it was meant to sound firm and like you won't back down until you get an answer but it just turned out sounding a little whiny.

gojo smirks and leisurely saunters to you, stopping when coming up close in front of you, "you look truly beautiful sweetheart." 'sweetheart' he's never called you that before. you don't know if your heart can keep taking it all. satoru's your friend, your close friend, but at times like this it's hard to remember that.

you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling- admittedly unsuccessfully. the corners of your mouth still quirk up and your round cheeks become more predominate. you fight the desire to cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, instead opting to twiddle your fingers. "sh-should we get going?"

satoru grins at you, "sure thing."

the whole drive you're both stealing looks at each other when you can get away with it while making small talk and satoru's not letting you know where you're going saying that it's a surprise. whenever there's a red light gojo takes his time to admire you and as you step outside into the night you're astonished at the restaurant in front of you. satoru's handing his car keys to a valet to park his car but you're distracted from that, finally knowing where you're eating tonight. you know this place, well you know of this place. never in a million years would you have thought you'd be dining here, it's so lavish that the cutlery is more expensive than buying a house that's already furnished. "are you okay princess?" you snap out of your daze and nod your head. "alright then, let's go inside."

you follow closely behind gojo, nervous as you enter, you don't think you've ever felt more out of place. satoru doesn't even give his name, the man at the desk recognises him straight away, "ah mr. gojo if you'd follow me." the man leads you upstairs and you hear him asking satoru questions but all that's going through your mind is 'please don't trip, please don't trip.' you're quite accident prone and falling down these stairs would be too much to handle. he takes you all the way to the fourth floor and near the window where you can see the city lights shining below. "here you are."

when the man leaves satoru pulls out a chair for you and you're startled by the gesture. you take your seat and he takes his. "you're more gentlemanly then i expected you to be satoru, pulling out my chair for me," you pause for a second mulling your thoughts over before adding, "or is that normal etiquette?"

"i'm very chivalrous, i'll have you know," he replies pouting and you raise an eyebrow at how fake his answer sounded. he throws his hands up with a smirk, "well, i'm not always chivalrous but if a pretty lady is in front of me than i can become very courteous." you chuckle, trying not to hone in the pretty part for your own sanity.

you glance at the table and worry because satoru might know proper etiquette but you don't. you know the general rules and ideas but why are there two knives and forks next to your plate and a spoon as well? why are there two glasses, a wine one and a normal one? why does the napkin look fancy? does that mean it's just for decoration, what if you need it? you're worried that you'll leave smudges in places where there shouldn't be and what if the table cloth rips? maybe this was a mistake...

"hey," satoru says softly catching your attention, when you look back up at him you see his smirk has turned into a frown and you don't think you've seen that expression on his face before, it doesn't fit right. he's taken off his sunglasses and placed them down, hanging them out of his suit pocket. his striking baby blue eyes glinting when the chandelier droplets move in the light. his snowy white hair looking soft and subdued under the glow of the light and the wavering flame of the candle. "sweetheart, whatever you're thinking right now isn't true."

"how did y-"

he cuts you off before you can finish asking. "because i know you and i know that look on your face, that overthinking look, i can see all those unnecessary cogs turning in your brain."

"i just..." you look away from him, not wanting to look into his eyes any longer knowing you'll crumble but gojo's not allowing that. with how long his arms are it's not difficult reaching over the table to you, placing his fingers below your chin and tilting your head around to look at him.

"just what? sweetheart." satoru presses you.

bunching up your skirt into tight fists you take a shaky breath and try again, "i'm worried i don't belong here. this is a really lovely place satoru and i just... what if i embarrass you? i'm not like you, i don't know when to do certain things or say specific things, i don't know why the table is placed like it is or any of it," after the words stop spewing out your mouth you take another breath, this time not shaky and deep. you look relieved to get it out.

'silly girl.' "do you really think i'd get embarrassed because of you sweetheart? nothing you could do would make me embarrassed. i'm lucky that you're with me right now. i don't care if you don't know all the rules and you shouldn't either, all that matters is that we're here together and we get to finally see each other after some hectic few days," gojo tells you earnestly, his body close to the edge of the table, leaning forward further near you, his voice low and intimate, like what he's saying is a complete secret for your ears only. the days were hectic and finally you're getting to see each other. those tedious meetings with his family and hours of basketball that seemed to stretch on and on but finally- you're together again.

your shoulders sag, you weren't even aware that your plush figure had tensed up in the first place. when satoru saw how you relaxed your posture he picks up one of the menus, "everything okay now?" he asks you, his eyes soft as they gaze at you.

"yeah, i think so." you lick your lips, wetting them after getting dry, the intense spike of emotions throwing your body threw a little bit of a loop, dry lips, moist eyes, with shaky fingers.

gojo grins and leans back on his chair, seeming more casual than a minute ago and hands you a menu. "what are you thinking about getting? i might go for the lobster."

you're browsing the menu but when you hear him you put it down momentarily to reply, "oh please, like you care about the lobster, you just want dessert," you say grinning wide.

gojo gasps and places his hands on his chest in mock offence. "dessert? i think you mean desserts." you laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. "i want you to enjoy this meal just as much as i'm planning to, that's why i intend to get the lobster, i don't want you to feel like you have to rush while eating just because i want dessert and i don't want you to even think about a silly thing like money." 'so he's ordering one of the biggest and expensive dishes? ...that does sound like satoru actually.' although you would be none the wiser about the prices of these meals, it's one of those high-end restaurants that doesn't have the prices on the menu, satoru must have been here often enough to know how much the lobster costs compared to other dishes.

"i don't know what to do about drinks, i hear they've got a fine collection of wines, maybe we should order a couple bottles? do you like wine?" he already knows the answer to that but you don't know that. "they've also got a wide selection of spirits and non-alcoholic drinks too, i believe."

you both order what you want, making idle conversation while waiting.

by the time your food arrives satoru has tried to convince you that you should've ordered a bigger meal, you're content with your choice in the end though and it's not the most surprising that when your food does arrive there's also a side dish for you to which you didn't order.

"i didn't order this satoru," you raise an eyebrow.

gojo smirks, "i know you didn't, but i did. i didn't want you to be hungry and we haven't had lunch together in days have you been eating properly?"

"are you suggesting that because i'm eating food in my price bracket instead of yours that it's not good enough? the food you pay for is definitely better but poor people food taste good too."

he chuckles and smiles at you fondly before replying, "that's not what i'm saying and you know i'm not. I am however asking have you been eating three meals a day?" you wince. "i thought not."

"i've been busy with studies, i didn't have time to eat three meals a day every single day," you try to justify.

"that's exactly what i mean. i won't take any excuses though, you shouldn't have skipped any meals." satoru lightly scowls you but don't take it too seriously, you should have though. 'silly girl, she really can't look after herself properly. it's a good thing i'm here to keep an eye on her. she just can't be trusted on her own.'

you pout at his reasoning, it's not often that gojo reprimands you or anyone you've seen for that matter. knowing that you don't have a leg to stand on you keep quiet.

when you eat the first bite of your food you hum blissfully, so close to being a moan and it's music to satoru's ears, 'god she's adorable.' he doesn't even realise that he isn't eating until you noticed that he's unmoving. "satoru are you okay? you're not eating."

"i'm fine sweetheart just thinking about something," he responds with a smile.

"okay- if you're sure but make sure you eat soon or it'll get cold."

"yes ma'am," satoru gives you a cheeky smile and picks up his fork.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you lose any composure that you previously had. you avert you eyes and focus on the tablecloth, suddenly finding it very interesting, focusing on the material. you never knew being called something would make you feel so strange, it was the complete opposite to gojo calling you princess or sweetheart.

even though satoru picked up his fork and began eating he didn't take his eyes off you at the corner of his eye, he wanted to see your reaction to that name. he wanted to test how docile you are, his theory that you are submissive and it seems he was right, although even if he wasn't and his theory was proven wrong he'd just mold you into what he wants. 'of course she's so perfect that i don't need to change her, she's such a good girl.'

quickly ma'am leaves your head with the more delicious food you have but you can't help some negative thoughts enter your mind. everything starts to feel too good to be true, the twinkling lights and the flickering of the candle on the table, the scenery and the ambience, the delectable food and the amazing beverages, the dream company with someone who you care so very much about, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else and... it just all feels too good to be true.

'how many girls does gojo come here with? they knew who he was without giving his name. i know i'm not his girlfriend. it's not like i'm jealous it's just- i want this so bad to be special. am i one in a long line?' you have to ask, you have to know. if you're not special you need to know.

"satoru-" you start by getting his attention.

he looks up at you and sees the pensive look on your face, he puts his cutlery down and ceases eating, directing all his attention to you, "yes princess?"

"can i ask you something?" you ask, hesitant and more meekly now you have his attention.

"of course you can princess," he smiles and waits for you to ask whatever it is. he truly doesn't know what it could be right now.

"am i special? i mean- wait- not special. i mean do you take lots of girls here? they seemed to know your name already so do you? i know we're friends so it wouldn't be the same as you taking other girls here but do you take lots of girls here?"

he doesn't even try to stop the smirk that creeps onto his face, you're jealous and what's even better do you even know that you're jealous. satoru can barely contain his excitement.

not once have you brought up other girls, not once. you've never asked if it's true that he doesn't date anyone for longer than a month or that he's gone through half the school. you've never asked about the crude gossip about how big his dick is and how he's the best anyone has ever had even though he knows you've definitely heard those rumours. but right now? right now your words hint of jealously and insecurity.

satoru tells the truth as he replies simply "i haven't brought any girls here." gojo dangles the small piece of information in front of you, it isn't a question of if you'll take it and ask further questions he knows you will but he wants to hear you ask for more, it thrills him.

"you-you dont?" you ask for more explanation.

he grins, "nope," he pops the 'p'. "i go here with my family and on occasion suguru but only sometimes with suguru because it can be kind of intimate with two people," he explains and you giggle at the thought of the two of them sitting across from each other here. he carries on his explanation, "i would never go here with other girls, of course you're special," he tells you honestly and your lips part, hanging onto every word spoken.

'i'm special.' you press your lips together but the corners of your mouth still manage to lift up into a small smile. your brain then fully catches up with everything he said and your heart beats erratically, just now satoru said a dinner here between two people is intimate, he didn't word it in that exact way but if a dinner for two with suguru is intimate, a dinner for two with you might be considered intimate too. overall you're pleased with the answer you were given, gojo thinks your special and he doesn't take other girls here.

you eat the rest of your dinner without incident, enjoying every single mouthful and letting gojo know that it's tasty, thanking him. when you order dessert it's no surprise that satoru goes a bit overboard nearly buying the whole dessert menu, not that you would ever complain about a thing like that, the more time you've spent with gojo the more of a sweet tooth you've become yourself.

satoru doesn't attempt to hide the bill, he enjoys the look on your face when you see the amount in the corner of your eye. for him the money is trivial sum but to you it's shockingly high. he gets a power trip when he sees your eyes widen at the money.

"do you want to come back to mine?" satoru asks you while you leave the restaurant and you agree not thinking anything of it. he's been to yours before but you've never been to his. you don't think there's anything behind his question, you don't even consider he's suggesting something and gojo's well aware that you don't realise.

you don't speak much on your way back, you're leaning against the window and watching the city lights, it's starting to drizzle and you feel at ease in your current company, your eyes fluttering, slightly drowsily, as you hear the rain. gojo taps his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles thinking about how adorable you look right now.

the journey back to satoru's could've taken ten minutes to an hour for all you know as your mind wanders and your eyelids get heavy. when you arrive and he parks up and you get out of the car, you shiver a bit as the cold air hits you, giving you a shock and getting rid of any lingering tiredness and satoru walks around the car to be next to you. he pouts as he bends down to look at you, his sunglasses still in his jacket pocket, "pretty ladies aren't just supposed to have their chair pulled out for them, they're meant to have doors open for them too."

you giggle and bump against him, "flattery will get you nowhere mister." it does. luckily you'll be able to blame your flushed face due to the bitterly cold if gojo questions you on it.

"let's get inside sweetheart, it's cold." 'sweetheart' something else you can luckily blame on the weather. you're not expecting satoru to randomly touch your face though so you think you're going to be okay.

you follow him inside and the size of his place is a large as you thought it would be, you're learning to expect everything he owns is extravagant. the interior however is something you take note of, you've only entered one room but it seems barren. the walls are drab, painted slate grey and off white with only the bare necessaries of furniture and nothing more. devoid of any human presence. you're not even sure if he's lived here long and when he looks at you he can see those unnecessary cogs turning in your head again. "is something on your mind princess?"

"um-" you don't really know if you should bring it up but your curiosity gets the better of you. "have you lived here long?"

"a couple of years," satoru leans against the wall and smirks.

"i just- there's not a lot of stuff in here, it looks like you still have unpacking to do."

he pushes himself off the wall and goes over to you, "do you think i should get more stuff? like cushions for the the sofa and posters on the wall?" you feel gojo's breath against your skin as he leans down to talk in your ear quietly, it's so intimate, your mind draws a blank finding it hard to think with him so close to you. satoru is playful and he's teasing and you've heard rumours that he's a flirt but he's never been this close to you before, you've never been able to smell his cologne and been this close to feel his warm breath against your neck. "maybe we should go shopping together and you could help me pick out some stuff?" you're holding your breath, not being able to breathe anymore. "or maybe it would be better if you just stayed here and brought your stuff along? you do always complain about your rent being high."

you take a sharp intake of air and move a step away from him so you can look back at him in the eye. mentally shaking your head to forgot about his remark. 'did gojo just say about me being his roommate? i'd get to see him everyday... wait... i'd have to hear him all the time when he brings home girls and does he even clean after himself properly?'

"did you have too much to drink tonight satoru? you know you shouldn't drink and drive," you reply with light tone, reminding yourself not to think too hard about the situation, almost being successful in your mission.

satoru just watches you and smirks as he sees you try to ignore his comment. "anyway i don't think you need a roommate." 'roommate? yeah i don't need one of those...'

"and for all i know you might steal my food from the fridge and not wash up the dishes. plus i always forget my towel when i shower." you say the last sentence flippantly, but satoru's mind fills with thoughts of you... 'walking out of the shower into the living room with a small towel on, barely covering your body, body damp with water dripping down your neck, onto your shoulders down to the valley of your breasts...' he's getting hard just imagining it.

"are you okay satoru? you're a bit red." you question and the topic of conversation changes.

satoru moves back away from you, "i'm okay princess, probably thirsty. do you want a drink?" he's glad of this change, he'd like to tease you more but there'd be a real chance you'd see his erection, he could probably tease you about it if you'd notice it but he doesn't think you're ready yet. he wants to make sure you're relaxed and comfortable. you've got a long night ahead of you.

"sure."

following him into the kitchen you take a seat on one of the kitchen counter stools. "what would you like to drink?"

not wanting to ask for something he might not have or cause a fuss you respond with, "whatever you're having is good with me."

'she's so predictable.' he pours both of you your favourite drink, he knows all your preferences, of course he's stocked up on everything you like. he hands it to you and you smile wide, "this is like my all time favourite drink, i didn't know you liked it too."

in situations like this he switches his answers up from time to time not wanting you to get suspicious. "do you like these too? the amount i get through weekly is crazy." he makes sure to separate things into two categories, things you've told him and things you haven't but he knows anyway. he wouldn't want to mention in conversation about how he remembers that you like these drinks when you've never told so.

satoru likes when he tells you things that subtly suggest, 'look how much we have in common. we like all the same music and drinks!'

he prefers when he tells you he remembers something you told him, you quietly replying to him once about how much it means to you because "no one has ever cared about me to remember something so mundane about me." he swears that he'll remember everything about you, he swore he'd never forget a single thing.

gojo takes his place next to you, sitting on the stool and purposely brushing his hand against your rib, under your breast, and he gets pleasure from seeing you straighten up your back.

you both enjoy your drinks and kick your legs in the air. "i feel bad because you've been driving me around all night. when i go i'll get an uber or cab or something."

gojo frowns, "are you going now?"

"n-no! unless you want me to?" you don't want to overstay your welcome and you have a feeling that if gojo wanted you to go he'd let you know and you want to look around the other rooms if you have a chance, perhaps not his bedroom for privacy reasons but you want to see if his other rooms have plain decoration and if the bathroom has any noteworthy products in, you have always wanted to know how his skin looks so good all the time.

"i'm definitely not telling you to leave princess... in fact why don't you stay the night? you can stay in the spare room. no pressure though. you don't have to but there might not be anywhere you can get a lift because of how late it is and how it's the other side of town adding that all onto it's now pouring down. i'd offer to take you back myself but i'm not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially if the roads are slippy 'cause to the rain. it's your choice. i'm sure you'll get someone to take you eventually but it might be less effort to stay here and leave tomorrow?"

he knows you don't want to wait forever getting home, he knows you want to take him up on his offer but something is stopping you, he doesn't know what is it for a moment until he figures it. "it's absolutely no bother, i don't mind and i've got clothes that you can wear, i think i wore them to lounge about in on tuesday so i haven't had time to wash them yet but i don't think that's a huge problem. i wear them a lot but they're too big on me, you should fit in them."

that small comment might have upset you more if it came from someone else but you don't think gojo meant it maliciously, you think it came from a good place, however you couldn't help thinking about it, the words 'they're too big on me, you should fit in them' ring around your head, about how you should fit in them. you know that satoru didn't mean anything by that but you've never worn someone else's clothes before so it gives you a bit of anxiety and satoru can see that.

gojo speaks again in an attempt to stop you from other thinking. "if you did want to go i'll give you the money to get a cab but if not you can stay, it's no problem, in fact i would enjoy it." your eyes snap up to look at him and you see a soft smile adorning his face. "we could watch that new film you were telling me about and i don't mean to brag but my shower is amazing, nothing compares, even five star hotels." you crack a smile but your mind still lingers on the clothes. satru can see that still not fully convinced and there's something stopping you, "is this about the clothes?" you shift your eyes away nervously not wanting to admit how you clung to a few words. gojo stops himself from sighing in exasperation. "if you'd feel more comfortable keeping the blouse and skirt on you can, you do look good in them but you shouldn't overthink about wearing my clothes. i know i said they're not clean but i've only worn them once since they've been washed it's not like they're diseased." you giggle and satoru gets less exasperated after hearing you laugh.

"they'll fit you if that's what you're worried about and honestly even if they are a little tight you'd still look good in my shirt, it would just hang onto your hips a bit." your mouth parts, the previous throwaway remark being swiped away like smoke by his hand, instead being replaced by insurance that it will fit and if by the off chance it doesn't then it's not the end of the world. he hopes it doesn't fit.

it quells your mind and you agree to stay. "thank you satoru, i'd appreciate staying, over the hassle of getting home."

he grins at your answer, hands itching to take off your blouse. "do you want a shower now so we can watch that film?"

"sounds good." you follow him into the bathroom and it looks like the living room, crystal clean, newly moved into, the only difference is his electric toothbrush on the side and moisturiser. gojo doesn't leave when he shows you into the room, he doesn't leave when he makes a quick explanation about how the shower works, in fact he didn't tell you at all. instead of telling you he turns the shower on, adjusting the handle to change the temperature to the one you prefer and pressing a button next to the handle, keeping his finger on it for a few seconds before removing it, changing the water pressure. "here you go princess," he grins and turns back to you. you think to yourself about how you could of figured out how to work the shower but you don't vocalise it, you've been in enough showers to know how they work but satoru's one is probably different if he did it himself.

"oh, the shower wash and shampoo is there, i don't know if you want to wash your hair but it's there if you need it. you'll have to use my one." he then leaves, before placing a towel on the sink for you to grab when you get out. he owns all the soaps and scents you use but you can't use them, he doesn't want to share. if he gave you them you'd be suspicious and there would be less for him to use when he misses your smell, groaning in the shower after he gets home from basketball his hands massaging your shampoo into his scalp, one hand in his hair the other fisting his cock. he'll buy you new perfumes and soaps for the holidays, he would never change any of your signature scents but you deserve more expensive products in his eyes.

a part of you still can't help but think about the clothes but when you step into the shower your eyes close and body relaxes, somehow it's the perfect way you like your showers. all of it melts away and as you pick up gojo's shower wash your body heats up inside. you're going to use the same soap as gojo uses and once you recognise how you reacted you shake your head to get away from all those thoughts. everybody at your university would likely have the same reaction as you but you're not just anyone, satoru is your dear friend and he deserves more respect than you just gave him. you don't spend long showering, wanting to not use his soap for a long period and you end up not washing your hair.

you dry yourself but panic as you can't find clothes anywhere, did satoru forget? maybe the plan was for you to put your clothes back on until he's gave you them. opening the door ajar you peek outside, you're planning on seeing if you can hear satoru, asking him about the clothes but before you can you see a shirt on the floor next to the door. picking it up, you close the door quickly and breathe deeply, glad that you noticed the shirt before calling out to gojo.

when you start to slip into the shirt you feel a repeat of the shower, it smells so much like him. you didn't realise when you agreed to this you'd have to be concerned about this but you are and it's making you feel guilty. like you're no better than those girls who throw themselves at him, only based on appearances alone. you put it on as quickly as you can and try to ignore the smell but the entire room is filled with it. it smells different to the soap, it smells more like him, 'his natural scent?' you ponder. it effects you differently than it would his fans though, they'd be filled with thoughts that are less than appropriate, like being pushed into his pillow while he's taking them from behind or not wasting time with getting completely nude but to you they're innocent, the smell is comforting like when he surprises you by suddenly grabbing you from behind or crowding your space as you worked on projects together. it's not the smell of satoru gojo, famous 'womaniser', 'manwhore', 'heartbreaker', with a reputation that would make a nymphomaniac blush, it's the smell of satoru gojo- your gojo. and annoyingly your gojo, your friend, smells really good.

satoru was right about the shirt. because of how tall he is it reached down to your thigh, you were slightly worried about accidentally flashing him but it was long enough not to worry too much about it. he was also right about how it clung to you. even though it clung to you it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, the fabric stretched a tad around your hips and chest but it didn't make you feel uneasy, you doubt satoru would even notice. he, of course, does. and takes great pleasure in it.

you fold up the towel and leave it in the laundry basket. exiting the room you hear satoru and go to him. he hears you near him entering the room and looks up from the sofa, "you okay?"

you smile sweetly and nod your head, "i'm okay, it was a good shower."

he returns your smile, "i'm glad."

satoru doesn't hide his staring as you move to the sofa to sit down next to him. you're so cute and you're so hot all he can do is stare and he's so thankful that you agreed to come to his and stay. he's never let anyone wear his clothes before, it's a boundary that he doesn't cross. his previous relationships weren't allowed to wear his clothes, if it was cold outside and someone didn't bring a coat he wouldn't give them his, he never cared about them that much to do things like that but when you walk in wearing his clothes his heart jumps with joy. he never thought about how much he'd love seeing you wear his shirt, it's not just a shirt it's a statement, you're his, he owns you. it barely covers your thighs and he knows if he gets you to move and bend down, even if only slightly, everything will be on display. his shirt is clinging to your curves and he's practically salivating as your hips look so grabbable.

you're none the wiser of this and when he turns on the film you previously spoken about he was paying more attention to you than the television, every so often shuffling a little bit closer to you. he doesn't wait long, it's been about twenty minutes through the film before he puts his arm around you, he slings his arm around your shoulder when you walk together sometimes so it's not the first time this has happened. this is regular behaviour in your eyes.

forgetting his arm is even around you you become invested in what you're watching, you were right to mention it to gojo, it's exceeded your expectations. you have no reaction to satoru taking his arm off your shoulder and instead placing it on your plush thigh. he has more of a reaction that you do, biting his lip to stop any noises that could come out because you would likely notice if he groaned. after a couple of minutes of his hands being still he starts moving, making small patterns on your skin and stroking you. his hand gets higher, reaching the hem of his shirt before stopping and leaving his hand there.

as the film ends you become more aware of where gojo's hand is resting but you choose not to say anything. you're flustered but you think he's put his hand there absentmindedly while watching the film so you keep quiet.

"did you enjoy the film princess?"

you smile brightly at him and respond, "i did! did you?"

satoru starts making patterns on your skin lightly again. tapping his finger on his chin with his other hand like he's thinking and making a noise, "hmmm i did enjoy it although i was distracted through most of it."

that catches your attention wondering what it was that he was focused on instead. "oh, what was it?"

he smirks, "it's hard to pay attention to anything other than how pretty you look right now."

satoru had called you a pretty lady earlier tonight but this feels more personal, your brain refusing to work and it's exhilarating for him to see it happen.

he cups your cheek in his hand so you're making direct eye contact with each other, he doesn't want to look away from him. "do you want this sweetheart?"

your heart is pounding in your chest like a hummingbirds wings and you worry that satoru can hear it, swallowing before replying, "w-what do you mean?"

he leans closer to you and feel like your body is buzzing, tiny zaps of electricity shooting through your veins at his proximity to you, "do you want me?"

"i-i," you're stuttering over your words and nothing makes sense. do you want him? want him to do what?

"sweetheart do you want me?" he reiterates putting more emphasis on the 'want' and slivering his hand up further along your thigh, inching under your, his, shirt. you wait with bated breath, wondering if he'll go further, wondering if he'll say more.

"satoru are you... are you coming onto me?" you're quiet when you ask, you're unsure, you worry that you're wrong and gojo can't help but laugh.

"obviously i'm coming onto you. i thought that was pretty clear."

"you are?" you're still quiet.

"yeah," he smirks at you however your eyes drift away from him feeling shy but gojo's not having that, he pats your cheek before saying, "look at me princess." you do what he says and make eye contact with him again, "there she is, "he smiles at you and kisses your nose making your whole body heat up, your lips part open in shock and he smirks.

"i'm going to ask again, do you want this?" lowering his voice he continues speaking, "because i want this."

'he wants this. he wants me... but do i want him? everyone wants him. do i want him? if we do this it might never be the same again, we might stop being friends... satoru is really attractive, he's hot, he can get anyone he wants but will this mess everything up... i don't know.'

he can see those unnecessary cogs again, how silly, how useless.

he doesn't wait for you to answer, he's given you time and instead of answering you're thinking, overthinking, not being a good girl at all. instead of waiting any longer he closes the space between you two and slots his mouth against yours, licking your lips in a silent request to open your mouth, you oblige his request without any more thought and just simply do what feels right, do what feels good, and kissing satoru feelings good.

his lips are soft, probably softer than yours but you can't tell with them against each other. imaging the kiss you'd think gojo would kiss someone slowly, languidly. you imagine he wouldn't put a lot of effort or passion in the kiss but it would still be the best kiss anyone has ever had. you never thought he'd be a passionate kisser. you know from rumours that his relationships don't last long, it seems to you that he's never been invested in any of them so what's the point in kissing someone like you can't get enough of them when he's going to move on to the next person in a week, so what's the point of kissing passionately but right now that theory is blown out the window. his movement is rushed, it's hungry, it's unexpected. you didn't think he'd be so greedy. his skilled tongue is against yours and he's completely dominating the kiss. satoru's not even stopping for air and he's not letting you either, he's been waiting for this for so long now and a stupid reason like needing to breathe isn't going to stop him.

satoru's leaving wet kisses down your jaw and pulse point anywhere that's visible he's kissing. leaving little nips in his wake and trying to find a good space for him to start leaving marks and hickeys so everyone will know you're his.

the hand that was holding onto your thigh squeezes gently and a shiver runs down his spine because you feel so soft. he pushes you down on the sofa and he's above you looking down, knocking your thighs open and kneeling between them. he's swears he's never seen a more beautiful sight. you get nervous when you look at him, the way he looks at you tenderly with those vibrant blue eyes, that unbeknownst to you hold so much love for you.

you're gasping at every new sensation gojo's giving you, never having felt like this before as his continues his path up your thigh moving the shirt up along with it and now he's finally touching your plush body he thinks he may be in heaven with a gorgeous goddess with him and the more he moves the shirt up the more he thinks so. both of his hands moving to your hips and pressing his fingers into your skin watching them spill over and it's making him dizzy. never has he felt anyone with your body before and it's driving him crazy. he wants more, he needs more.

satoru brushes his knuckles over your underwear making you whine and he smirks, "feel good princess?"

"uh huh," you reply nodding your head up and down rapidly, head fuzzy and wanting more, wanting him.

"yeah?" he asks smugly. " ' course you do." he taps your hips just above the line of your underwear, "lift up for me sweetheart." you move up so he can pull down your underwear and he pockets them in his jeans saving them for later. he doesn't waste anytime as he unzips his jeans and takes them off, pulling his shirt off after, the only reason of the shirt being off is that he wants you to see how hot he looks and to check him out, he knows he looks good and he wants you to know it too.

he presses two fingers into you and you moan. "i'm going to prepare you sweetheart." it wasn't a question but you nod your head anyway. his slender fingers are longer than yours, reaching placing you can't, he's leisurely taking his time, watching as you squirm, eyes starting to glaze over.

only after four minutes and he's had enough of this leisurely pace fingering though, he just has to have his dick inside you now. he would promise to go slow but he knows he can't promise that. you don't see his dick before he goes into you, if you did you'd say something but instead you feel it. more girth than most and nine inches long thus as he starts to thrust into you you let out a moan that soon fades into a silent scream.

with each inch you feel that it must be it but then there's more, he knows he should've spent more time getting you ready for him but the idea of waiting even a minute longer was torture.

at the same time of being fully inside you, you wince, and satoru places a chaste kiss on your lips. there's a fleeting thought as you wince about how you think his cock has broken you, so far he's in your guts. he keeps his hold on you as he thrusts shallowly a few times testing the waters and playfully pinching your nipple to see your reaction.

you try to speak but the words get caught in your throat and it doesn't take long for gojo to speed up, not even a minute and he's already thrusting hard and fast into you, a creamy white ring already forming at the base of his cock. his pace doesn't falter, in fact it gets more rough as satoru sees your face. it's hard for you to even think, you've never been this full before, you're eyes are glazed over and you've got your mouth open drooling a bit, he thinks you look so adorably dumb. "look at you princess you look so dumb right now, so stupid. you don't even have one thought in your head do you? it's so fucking hot. not thinking or worrying, all that matters is this, you don't need to think i'll do it for you."

satoru lifts up one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder, at the new position it feels like he's reaching even deeper. you whine so loud that people walking outside would hear. "my cock's making you lose braincells huh?" he grins, tapping your cheek gently to get your attention. you look up at him in a daze and he sniggers. "not a thought behind those eyes."

at the new angle you try to grab hold of his arm but struggle to focus losing grip straight away, squealing, "ah it feels s' good 'toru!"

satoru is pleased that you've spoken something, that you've been able to form an legible sentence, he's even more pleased at how good you sound squealing, knowing that he's the one who's made you sound like that. however more than all of that he's overjoyed that you called him 'toru' it sounds so perfect from your mouth.

"i know, i know, you're so good for me princess, such a good girl." he keeps slamming into you at a brutal pace and he wants you to come undone around him soon before he cums. "hear that princess, your pussy is so wet and sticky for me. she knows what she wants huh," he grins and starts pinching your nipples, watching as your eyes roll back.

he's fucking you so rough that your body is moving up and down on the sofa, jiggling with each thrusts, and as he watches your body bounce he gets closer and closer. he normally lasts so much longer but he can't help it with you, it's impossible for him to keep his regular time when your warm wet walls are wrapping around his cock, when he's inside you.

satoru can't wait any longer removing his hand from your nipple and bringing it to your clit, rubbing harshly as you shriek from the sudden extra stimulation, as you get tighter around him he sucks his teeth so close to cumming, "are you going to cum for me sweetheart?"

you don't say anything, you don't have time to answer him because instead the coil in the stomach that has been winding up for the last half an hour snaps, with the added help of gojo touching your clit, you arch your back, and your eyesight goes fuzzy seeing white dots. you've never had such an intense orgasm before, it drowned out noise and made everything hard to hear, you didn't even know cumming could do that. everyone was right about sex with satoru.

feeling you spasm around him was even for him to finish as well, a few more thrusts into you and he lost it cumming too. if he was a better man he would've pulled out but satoru knew that he would never pull out when it comes to you. he's seen birth control in your bathroom before and when he saw it he frowned, he hopes that you missed it today. either way he's making sure to bury himself in you as deep as he can get hoping that even if you did take birth control today it won't be good enough to stop his intention- his deep desire to breed you. thoughts racing through his head, 'silly girls don't need to go to university they should just stay at home. i've got more than enough money to look after her. she'd look so good, her body even softer than it already is. she'd make such a good mama.' as he comes his body goes taut and he groans loudly saying your name and stilling.

you're both catching your breathe, not speaking for a minute, recovering for the most mindblowing sex both of you have ever had.

he wants to stay where he is but he knows he can't. when he moves you whimper, feeling empty all of a sudden, and it makes his ego rise, "sorry princess, i'm going to get you a towel okay." satoru kisses your forehead before rising and getting a towel from the bathroom, coming back and kneeling, swiping the towel gently over your inner thighs and pussy. kissing your hip and looking back at you, "are you okay?"

you're breathless as you reply, "yeah."

satoru smirks, "that's good."

you cover your face with your hands, timid with the way gojo's focused on you. putting the towel down he holds onto your hands and removes them from your face so he can see you again, smiling at you sweetly and kissing your forehead again.

"satoru what's going to happen now?" you're almost silent, if he wasn't so laser focused on every movement and thing you do he might not have heard.

"we could watch another film but it's getting late."

"no... i mean with us..."

satoru furrows his eyebrows, not understanding the question. "us?"

"yeah i-i mean are we s-still friends?"

"friends?" he looks at you like you've grown an extra head and your stomach sinks, if you knew this would've been the outcome you would've done something differently.

you don't want to lose gojo, you really don't want to lose gojo. you don't want to cry in front of him, you don't want it to get misconstrued and him to think that you're trying to manipulate him or change his mind but the idea of not having satoru in your life is heartbreaking. wait... heartbreaking? however the tears still come and the words get lodged in your throat. you manage to get some words out but it's barely audible with how erratic your breathing is becoming and how you keep swallowing every five seconds. "can i do anything to make us be friends again? i don't want to lose you." you're sniffling and you know you sound needy and probably desperate too but that's not your main focus right now.

"lose me?" he squints and gently wipes the tears from your face. "why would you lose me?" he cups you cheek, "princess how do you feel about me?"

your mouth parts open, you're glad that he's suggesting that you're not going to lose him but that's completely overshadowed with the question he's asked. you stay silent, not moving a muscle, how do you feel about him?

'satoru's my friend, my best friend! so... i feel that he's my friend? did i feel this way about my other friends? i lost my other friends and it was awful, i hated it but if i lost satoru... i think it would be worse than awful. maybe soul crushing is accurate... heartbreaking sounds more accurate. can someone be heartbroken about a friend? can i?'

you can't say anything, you don't know what to say, all your thoughts are muddled and you feel lost. gojo's still cupping your cheek, now stroking it with his thumb. "alright then princess, let me tell you." you don't know how he's going to tell you, you don't even understand yourself. "you don't see me as a friend anymore." he says simply and your eyes widen, and he holds onto your elbow with no force with his other hand to stop you if you try to draw away.

"do you know why i know that princess?" satoru asks you, his voice tethered, borderlining on husky. unsure you shake your head. "because friends don't act like you do. they don't get jealous about the thought of me taking girls out to restaurants, they don't check me out when they think i'm not looking. friends don't make a photo of us together as their lockscreen and wallpaper-"

at that you interrupt him, "you have me on your lockscreen too!" but he puts his fingers to your lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.

"not finished yet sweetheart. friends don't send each other good morning texts as soon as they wake up and they don't memorise my order at cafés we go to. friends don't stare at my lips and compliment my eyes all the time. friends don't look at me longingly. friends don't go to romantic restaurants alone together."

he pauses watching with rapt attention as you look down at your lap, he doesn't make you look up at him this time and waits for your response. when you decide to look back at him you calm your breathing as much as you can, "b-but you do those things too satoru..."

satoru grins brightly, "yeah i do, sooo... that would mean what?" he presses you to answer him.

"do you- do you- am i more than a friend to you satoru?"

"bingo!"

you feel like you're dreaming, nothing feels real. you could never of guessed that gojo feels that way or that you're his type. "is that why we had sex?"

satoru chuckles, not answering but instead replying, "you're so cute!" it makes your face heat up. "do you want me to tell you a secret?" you're nervous and dubious but you nod your head softly. gojo moves even closer than you, "you're more than just my friend princess," he leans closer to your ear and whispers "i love you."

you blink at him- once, twice, three times. you understand now that gojo is more than a friend to you and you recognise it's been this way for a very long time but through all his speech you didn't consider he felt the same. maybe that's why you didn't understand your own feelings, because if gojo acts the same as you do and calls you his friend you never questioned about if you really felt friendship towards him.

how long as satoru known all this and has kept you in the dark? what if he choose not to ever tell you? would you end up in a relationship with someone else only to break their heart when you finally realise that you're in love with satoru. your mouth is dry and you lick your lips swallowing to wet them, your voice still sounds a little hoarse though as you say, "why didn't you tell me?"

"because you'll understand and accept your own feelings and mine. i wanted to tell you but i know you, i knew that you would just deny it and ignore your feelings and it could result in something changing with us and that was the last thing i wanted sweetheart, it would kill me but i knew that it was time. i knew that you'd accept both of our feelings," he asserts and he's so close to you that you can feel his body heat.

you know what he's saying is true but you can't help but pout. "how do you know me better than myself satoru?"

satoru chuckles. well he does spend a great deal of his time loving everything you do...

"plus i couldn't keep it in any longer princess, i swear i was going mad. i would probably have folded soon and tell you," he whines and you giggle.

you take a deep breath and look at him straight in the eye, your whole body feeling fuzzy, "satoru i love you."

'yeah i know.'

gojo grins and wipes his forehead dramatically, "thank god." he holds onto the nape of your neck and pulls you to his lips so he can kiss you hungrily, as he pulls away he asks "do you still want to sleep in the spare room tonight? my room is more comfortable... and there may be some boxes on the bed that i haven't moved."

your eyes widen, "say you're joking 'toru!"

he throws his hands up and grins "well..."

you don't stay mad at him long, you've both confessed your love to each other it's not like you can be annoyed at him, you grin back, "i can't believe you."

"i swear it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence... that i chose not to tell you about... but it's okay because we can just use that room for any of your extra stuff when you move in."

you open your mouth wide in disbelief, "i cannot believe you satoru!"

"aw come on you know you love me!" he chuckles and you glare at him before be pokes your cheek and you start laughing too.

ko-fi <3

[nxtt2-u]

hush

your boyfriend loves to play with you in bed for hours on end. it’s not your fault you get loud after so much teasing, right?

content info — yang jeongin x afab!reader, 1.4k words, smut, established relationship

content warnings — nsfw, reader has a tummy, no gendered terms but reader has a vagina & boobs

notes — i return from my hiatus bearing this drabble-turned-oneshot as penance. i completely missed kinktober AND kinkmas.... sigh :( oh well, enjoy this lil snippet of dom jeongin!! ^^ smut warnings under the cut

smut warnings — dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, subspace, fingering, overstimulation, ruined orgasm, heavy petname usage sorry.., face slapping, crying, dacryphilia if you squint, a sprinkle of cockwarming, rough sex, praise and the teensiest bit of degradation(?), tummy cumshot, light aftercare (more done offscreen), mm i think that's it!

“a-ah, ‘yennie, ‘s too much,” you sniffle pathetically, pawing weakly at the hand that’s been toying between your legs for the better part of the last two hours. jeongin coos down at you from where he props himself up on an arm near your side, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smile, deep dimples popping out as if to mock your pitiful state. his other hand stays occupied with your silky heat, and just the sight of the veins protruding in his busy forearm as he works you has you soaking the sheets alone.

“it’s too much, baby?” he echoes condescendingly, eyes crinkling into mirthful crescents at the sound of your pussy squelching obscenely when he finally works two fingers inside your pussy with no resistance. you moan loudly at the delicious stretch of his long, dexterous fingers, delighted at finally having something inside after only being rubbed at and rubbed at up until now, and he grunts in response.

“shit… tight little cunt,” he mutters, crooking his fingers just right to prod at that gooey spot deep within. your whole body jolts as if connected to a live wire, and he moans breathily at the sight. “ah, fuck, is it there, baby? that’s what you want?”

you cry out in response, eyes slamming shut as you nod desperately. your hips begin to hump embarrassingly fast against his palm, but you’re so far gone you can’t even consider stopping yourself. jeongin chuckles at the tears welling up in your eyes as you fuck on his hand like a rabbit in heat, eagerly chasing your orgasm as it draws closer and closer.

he surprisingly allows it without complaint; if you had a drop of coherency left in your cotton-filled brain, you'd question his merciful behavior, but you're submerged too deep in the fuzzy headspace you oh so love to even think about anything other than the pleasure he's giving you. you babble out your incoherent thanks and rut impossibly harder against his palm, but just as your stomach begins to contract and the heat in your abdomen roars to an inferno, he pulls away.

you nearly scream aloud in frustration when your clit pulses angrily at the ruined orgasm. “jeongin!" you wail. "please, don’t be c-cruel,” sniffling, you shove your own hand down to swipe needily at your clit, pretty little head swooning with so much pleasure you can't even consider the consequences your desperation may bring. “need you, daddy, please, please please!” you cry out, frame thrashing wildly against the sheets with how sensitive you are now.

your boyfriend grunts and shifts to loom over you, brushing away his dark bangs so he can see how fucked out you are beneath him. he scoffs once, disbelieving at how you're still babbling and even beginning to drool onto his sheets, before he lands a harsh slap to your cheek. "hush, baby," he spits out, palming his flushed cock right over your heaving soft tummy. the hit leaves your skin hot and stinging in its wake, and you gasp. "god, you're so fucking needy, huh?" he drawls, polishing his tip with a sensitive hiss.

you didn't even realize the slap brought fresh tears to your eyes until they start falling right over the delicate spot where you were struck and you whine, clit pulsing with renewed delight at the pain. it finally manages to shut you up and he smirks when you eventually manage to still and fall silent, save for your intermittent sniffles and heavy breathing. he groans and tips his head forward to press an uncoordinated kiss to your lips at the sight of you peering up at him through wet lashes, patiently waiting for whatever he'll dish out next.

"ah, you're so good to me, sweetheart," jeongin murmurs into your mouth before tangling his tongue with yours. you moan against his lips as he sucks filthily on your tongue, and your noises only grow louder when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. you break the kiss to pant and stare down at where he pushes in until your head subconsciously falls back against the pillow at the stretch. despite him preparing you with his digits not long ago, it's still a tight fit every time you fuck your boyfriend simply because of his sheer size.

the soaking wet warmth that envelops him must take a toll on him too, especially with how long he's been working the both of you up. jeongin moans at the feeling and his arms begin to shake as he bottoms out. he leans down to lap sloppily at the crook under your jaw while you both catch your breaths. "just warm my cock for a li'l, okay, baby?" he mutters, abs clenching erratically as he does his best to stave off his orgasm. you nod, eager to please and be good, but it doesn't take long before you get squirmy.

who can blame you, though? with his hard cock finally sheathed inside after endless teasing, it's a wonder how you've even held on this long at all. you find yourself writhing again before you know it, fingers threaded into the sheets near your head as you begin to mindlessly beg and tilt your hips up, eager for stimulation. "daddy, please move, plea—"

"sh, shh, angel," he cuts you off, pulling back to loom over you once again. "i know, i know," he croons sweetly when you begin to cry again at the first gentle rolls of his hips. he kisses those salty tears away and begins to thrust harder, rougher, until you're eventually being shifted up the bed with the force and the headboard is rattling against the wall in a steady rhythm.

you don't even register your volume until jeongin is pressing a clammy palm against your mouth to muffle you, still fucking into you like a toy. "shhh, shh," he soothes again, and your eyes roll back when a slight shift of the angle has his tip suddenly pounding into your g-spot. "that's it, sweetheart, just take it. i'll let you come soon, okay? y-you.. fuck," he pants, cock twitching deep inside when you clench hard at his words, "you're so beautiful. milkin' my cock for me, bein' such a good girl, hm?" you whine, eyes slammed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure, and the pornographic moan he lets out at the sight finally tips you over the edge.

"oh, o-oh," jeongin gasps at the way your walls flutter around him, sucking him in deep and demanding his seed. "shit, baby," he grunts, thrusts growing erratic and losing their rhythm as his own orgasm builds impossibly fast. "cream all over my cock like that, and i'll– ah, fuck- cumming cumming—!" he cries; just before you can feel warmth flood your poor, abused pussy, his cock is sliding out of you with an embarrassingly loud noise and he's painting the plush skin below your bellybutton with ropes of white, warm cum.

he jerks and milks himself above you with his eyes pressed shut and mouth wide open as a long, drawn-out groan escapes him. when he's finally spent, he collapses beside you in a sweaty heap with a sated sigh. it's the last thing you see before your eyes drift shut in exhaustion, and when they crack open again he's plastered against your clean stomach, head pillowed happily on a naked boob.

your throat clicks dryly when you try to speak, and he's quick to snap up and fumble with a nearby water bottle, swiftly unscrewing it and pressing it to your lips. when he deems you adequately hydrated, he pulls away and sets it down as you roll your neck around, stretching out your limbs. "hey, sleepyhead. you enjoy your nap?" he grins, returning to his spot amongst your chest. your eyes roll but you give a dopey smile right back, fucked out and soft from the afterglow.

"mhm..." you sigh, tilting his chin up for a kiss. jeongin complies with a happy noise and you pull back before things can get heated again. your poor cunt can't handle another round just yet.

"love you," he murmurs, tucking his face into your neck. you thread your hands through his dark tresses, mussed and a bit smelly from all the activity, but you love it all the same. as his breath begins to peter out into a slower, more even rhythm, your own breath begins to sync as you all but melt into the mattress under his comforting weight. "love you, too," you mutter before slipping off into sleep once more, satisfied, warm, and sated in the arms of the man you love most.

[msfantasy-anime]

My Marine Wife

Monkey D. Luffy x Marine!Wife

Request: Lmao I love your Luffy x wife reader, but hear me out what about Luffy x wife reader Au oneshot where wife reader is a miarine and luffy is a pirate. the story is before anyone knows that Luffy and wife reader are married from childhood, but the Strawhat crew and the Marines don't until a battle where they see each other and Luffy is excited to hug wife reader, que everyone's shock. And despite the fact that Luffy is a pireate she still loves him even after all these years

A/n: I had a lot of fun with this heheh — this is also a spin off ‘My Wife’ series

“Pink in the morning, sailors warning...” You mutter, lifting a cup of tea to your lips, sipping the warm delicate concoction. Gazing out at the pink horizon as the morning sun washes the sparkling ocean with brilliant vibrant reds, oranges and golden hues of colours, the large choppy waves sending the navy ship in a rocky rhythm.

Standing at the bow of the ship, the large gusts of wind blowing and tugging at the navy coat hanging on off your shoulders. Closing your eyes, you take in the fresh sea salt air. You could almost enjoy the serenity of the moment— only if the men behind you weren’t busy emptying their stomachs over the side. Another retch, another groan, another splash into the waves below. You sigh. Nothing ruins the romance of the sea quite like seasick sailors.

“Rear Admiral Y/N—we’ve received yet another report that you let a pirate go.”

The oh-so-familiar voice echoes behind you, carrying the weight of authority, but you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Grandpa—”

“Vice Admiral Garp.” He corrects you instantly, drawing a smirk across your lips. It’s always amusing to hear him sound so proper when you’ve only ever known him as the man who cooed at you like a doting fool since you were a little girl.

“Vice Admiral Garp,” you repeat with mock obedience, finally turning on your heel to face him. He meets your gaze, steadfast as always, but you don’t miss the faint twitch of irritation that flickers across his features.

“I was merely completing my duties…” you defend smoothly, your sultry voice wrapping around your words like delicate velvet. If luck is on your side, you’ll be able to wiggle your way out of this—just like always. You take a leisurely sip of your tea before continuing. “I had to consider the situation at hand—Portgas D. Ace of the Whitebeard Pirates, or the group of low-level brats actively harassing innocent villagers for money.”

“Ace is a wanted pirate with a higher bounty than the ones you dragged in. It would’ve been better—”

“How could I turn my back on civilians who needed my help just to chase a bigger name?” you counter smoothly, your cunning grin resurfacing. “It would be in poor form for any Marine to prioritise the capture of a high-profile target over the safety of the people. Especially when Ace was simply… shopping.”

Garp exhales sharply, stepping closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you can hear.

“You and I both know you let Ace go. And not for any noble reason—just because you didn’t want to arrest the boy you grew up with.”You meet his stare with a slow, knowing smile, your amusement never wavering. “If it were Luffy, I know you’d let him go even if he was committing a crime right before your eyes.”

“That’s a mighty presumptuous claim… and impossible to prove.” You wiggle your brows in victory, savoring the small triumph.

Garp sighs, rubbing his temple, already done with your antics. “Maybe so. Regardless, Koby and Helmeppo here is assigned to observe your work and report any misconduct.”

Your grin vanishes.

You follow Garp’s gesture to the pink-haired boy standing awkwardly at attention beside him and the weird blonde kid with long slicked back hair, his squared shoulders and puffed out chest showing obscene superiority complex’s. Koby offers a small, nervous smile.

Your tea suddenly tastes bitter.

“Good Luck Koby and Helmeppo, you’ll need it.” Garp mumbles, throwing you one last glance as you wave him off ceremoniously.

It had taken some effort, but eventually, you managed to shake off the two guard dogs assigned to monitor your every move.

Weaving through the bustling crowd at the docks, you made your way toward the ship you had studied in newspapers for years. The Thousand Sunny.

Your heart pounded with each step, anticipation and nerves intertwining in a tight knot. It had been so long since you’d seen him. What if he acted distant? Dismissive? After all, you had pursued your dream of becoming a Marine, and Luffy had pursued his dream of becoming a pirate. Two different paths. Two different worlds. Natural-born enemies.

Doubt crept in, urging you to turn around—but before you could, a familiar, booming voice tore through the noise of the crowd.

“Y/N! What the heck are you doing here?! I missed you!”

Before you could react, Luffy’s rubber arms slingshotted toward you, wrapping around you in an instant. Any chance of escape vanished as you were yanked straight into him with a forceful oof! Normally, you’d be irritated by his careless manhandling, but right now? Right now, you couldn’t care less. A grin broke across your face as you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight in return.

“I missed you so much, Stretch,” you whispered, wishing you could stay like this forever.

A sharp voice shattered the moment.

“Luffy! What do you think you’re doing?!”Glancing up, you spotted Usopp gawking at you in disbelief.

“A Marine!” Brook screeched, clutching his skull in horror.

“Huh? Where?!” Luffy’s arms snapped away from you as he scanned the crowd, placing a hand over his brow as if looking for danger.

You nearly snorted at his cluelessness. “Stretch…” you drawled, shaking your head. “It’s me. I’m the Marine. Rear Admiral, in fact.”

You straightened your back, your Marine-issued coat settling perfectly on your shoulders.

Luffy blinked. “Huh…? Oh yeahhhhh…” He tilted his head. “You’re not gonna arrest me, are ya?”

You laughed, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t arrest my own husband—”

“HUH?!”

The crew erupted in unison. As you stepped onto the Thousand Sunny, their horror-stricken faces only made you laugh harder.

“Huh?! You’re married??” They scream in unison.

As you take a final step onto the Thousand Sunny, you couldn’t help but laugh at their horror filled expression.

“Married?! As in—he’s your husband?!” Nami blurted out, pointing at Luffy like he had just grown a second head.

“Are you deaf, Nami? Y/N is my wife!” Luffy declared proudly.

A vein popped on Nami’s forehead as she grabbed Luffy by the cheeks, pinching hard. “I CAN HEAR PERFECTLY FINE, MORON!”

Luffy whined in pain as Usopp and Chopper freaked out in the background, while Sanji took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes widening as if a missing puzzle piece had finally clicked into place. “It all makes sense now.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I thought you were insane for rejecting Boa Hancock, but now? Now I get it. Our captain is loyal to a fault.”

Luffy simply nodded, while your brow twitched.

You turned to him, smiling sweetly—too sweetly. “Just remember, my love… I’m still a Marine. And I’ll hunt you down if you ever betray me. Got it?”

A heavy silence hung in the air.

Luffy scratched his head, looking genuinely confused. “Huh— why would I do that? You can do whatever you want, it makes no difference to me. But you’re the only one for me.” His words are said so honestly, it was thoughtless. But his words pierced your heart like nothing else.

Brook leaned forward, cradling a cup of tea in his skeletal hands. “Soooo… are you finally going to tell us how you two ended up married? I mean, Luffy is a pirate, and you’re a Marine…”Before you could even part your lips to respond, Luffy swiped the tea straight from Brook’s hands and shoved it into yours.

Brook barely had time to blink before you took a leisurely sip, unfased by Luffy’s antics. You hummed, settling into his side. “Long story short, I grew up at Dadan’s with Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. Luffy was always looking after me,” you cooed, nudging him playfully. “Making sure I ate, drank water, and had somewhere to sleep.”You took another sip of tea, letting the warmth settle. “Ace and Sabo got mad that Luffy kept ditching pirate training to bring me flowers, so they decided to host us a wedding in hopes he would stop— and the rest is history.”

Luffy grinned like it was the most natural thing in the world, while the crew sat in stunned silence, trying to process what they had just heard.

Franky begins to sob loudly into his elbow. “You guys! That was so sweet, ugh god, I’m so alone!” Robin begins to pat Franky’s shoulder.

“There- there Franky, even if you are lucky enough to to find romance, we all die alone in the end. So there is really no need to be anxious over being alone now, because will still be alone to the bitter end.” Franky jerks away from Robins ‘comfort’.

“Cut-it-out with all that depressing stuff! You’re making me feel worse.” The crew all just laugh.

You’re elated to see your husband so happy, glad that despite your different paths, you can still witness him achieving his dreams, even if it means he isn’t immediately beside you like he often was.

Having someone constantly breathing down your neck was starting to grate on your nerves.

No matter where you turned, Koby or Helmeppo—or both—were watching. Their eyes bore into scrutinising your every move. It was becoming a real hassle.

But what surprised you most was when, one day, they barged into your office unannounced.

“You have a history of letting pirates go.” Koby’s voice rang with accusation, his expression stern. You arched a brow at the sudden bold intrusion.

“Oi, you wiggly weasels! Rear Admiral Y/n is busy!” One of your officers barked, jabbing a thick finger into Koby’s squared shoulders. “Get outta here with your ludicrous accusations!”

You glanced at your crew, their loyalty unwavering, their tempers flaring on your behalf.

“It’s fine, men.” You waved a dismissive hand, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Koby, Helmeppo, take a seat.”

Leaning back in your chair, you flashed that slippery smile of yours. “Officer, a cup of tea, please.”

“Right away, ma’am!” The officer saluted crisply.

“One for me too, please.” Helmeppo added.

The officer snorted. “Get it yourself, scum.” With that, the door slammed shut behind him.

Helmeppo scoffed. “It’s amazing how you’ve brainwashed your crew.”

A slow grin tugged at the corner of your lips. “It’s important for any leader to share their vision. A crew that understands the goal will work together to achieve it.” You let your fingers drum against the desk. “My men understand that perfectly. Those who don’t? Well… they don’t last long on my ship.”

“In other words, anyone who doesn’t sympathise with criminals gets thrown out.” Helmeppo deadpanned.

You clicked your tongue. “Spoken like a man from privilege.” Your smile soured, eyes narrowing as you pinned him in place. He swallowed thickly.

“To me, Helmeppo, the world has always been clear—there are criminals who are greedy, and criminals who are desperate for a better life.” Your voice was steady, yet sharp as steel. “I’ve lived a life where I can see the difference. So tell me—why do we protect Warlords like Doflamingo, who commit heinous crimes unchecked, yet Marines relentlessly pursue pirates like Straw Hat Luffy, who has liberated countries where the Marines have failed?”

The desk rattled as your fist slammed onto its surface.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and a fresh cup of tea was placed into your waiting hands.

“We’ve all seen Marines abuse their authority.” The officer who delivered your tea spoke evenly, eyes flicking toward Koby and Helmeppo. “And we’ve all witnessed organisations rise to protect the people the Marines neglect— Fisher Tiger of the Sun Pirates saved my daughter from the Celestial Dragons.”

The two froze, realisation settling over them like a heavy fog. Your entire crew—every last one of them—held their own discretion when executing the law.

“Your whole crew is criminal!” Helmeppo accused, his voice rising in frustration. “You are not judges! Who are you to decide who is the bigger evil?!”

You tilted your head, a brow arching. “So you believe we should never overlook a single crime?”

“A crime is a crime! The guilty should be punished!” Helmeppo snapped.

Your smirk deepened, venomous and triumphant. “I’m so glad you said that.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, you lifted the report handed to you moments ago, flipping through the pages. “Because, you see, my husband shared the most interesting story with me recently.”

The officer beside you held up a fresh file, thick with reports. Your grin widened. “For instance, Koby—you were a cabin boy for Alvida.”

“That wasn’t willing!” Koby sputtered.

You tisked, shaking your head. “In the eyes of the law, that doesn’t matter.”

Your attention shifted to Helmeppo. “And you—you abused your father’s position to terrorise civilians.”

Helmeppo stiffened but said nothing. Unlike Koby, he knew better than to fight a losing battle. He leaned back, defeated.

Then, with a calculated pause, you pulled out another file. “And as for Garp—he’s committed multiple crimes himself. He raised the son of Gol D. Roger despite an active warrant and, on multiple occasions, failed to arrest my husband when he had the chance.”Silence hung heavy in the air. Koby and Helmeppo sat frozen, absorbing the weight of the unspoken threat. You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm, your smile now deceptively sweet. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You will clear my name, and my crew’s. And if you don’t?”

Your grin sharpened, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement.

“Then I’ll drag the three of you straight down to hell with me.”

[inseobts]

Hey, there! I truly enjoy your One Piece oneshots, they’re always so adorable and they reflect 200% how the characters are. 💝🫶

I was wondering if you’re also open writing for Zosan x reader? Why choose one when you can have them both? 🤭

Between Blades and Flames

Sanji x Fem!Reader x Zoro

a/n: lmao I ain't that good at writing for poly relantionships but I hope I did it good enough for it to be enjoyable

words count: 2.2k

tags: humor, romance, you're all drunk, sfw

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You slam the fridge door shut with a frustrated sigh. Gone. Again.

“Sanji!” you call out, turning toward the kitchen’s open doorway “Did you seriously use up all the strawberries already?”

The sound of a knife hitting a cutting board halts. Then, a smooth voice answers “Mon chéri, you wound me. As if I’d ever let our lovely Y/N go without.”

Sanji appears, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. With a flourish, he produces a small plate from behind his back, four perfectly sliced strawberries drizzled with chocolate “For you, ma belle.”

Your stomach betrays you with a quiet rumble. Damn him.

Before you can accept or reject the offering, a new voice scoffs from the other side of the room “Tch. You don’t need that sweet crap” Zoro mutters from where he sits, one leg draped over the other, sword resting against his shoulder.

You arch a brow “Excuse me?”

Zoro leans forward, balancing his elbow on his knee “If you want something good, have some sake with me instead.” He tilts a small bottle in your direction, eyes locked on you like it’s a challenge.

Sanji’s smile disappears in an instant “Oi, mosshead, don’t be ridiculous! Sake before noon? You’ll ruin her refined taste.”

Zoro smirks “Refined? She’s not some porcelain doll you have to coddle, curly-brow.”

“And she’s not some battle-hardened brute like you!” Sanji snaps, rolling up his sleeves.

You groan, rubbing your temples “Are you two really doing this right now?”

Neither of them pays you any mind. Their bickering escalates, Sanji accusing Zoro of having the palate of a wild animal, Zoro insisting that Sanji is overcompensating for his lack of strength.

You shake your head, popping one of the strawberries into your mouth. A little indulgence and a little chaos. Just another morning on the Sunny.

You sit at the dining table, halfway through your stolen strawberries, watching Zoro and Sanji continue their never-ending war. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper peek in from the hallway, clearly entertained.

“Y/N, you should decide” Luffy suddenly declares, pointing at you.

You freeze mid-bite “Decide what?”

Luffy grins “Sake or strawberries?”

Zoro smirks “Hah. Easy win.”

Sanji scoffs, rolling his eyes “Like hell.” He turns to you with that charming, borderline dangerous smile “Come on, Y/N, tell these fools what real class is.”

Zoro leans in, arms crossed “Or maybe you’d rather handle your drinks like a real pirate.”

You chew slowly, suddenly regretting waking up this morning.

The rest of the crew gathers, waiting for your answer. Even Nami looks mildly interested. You consider your options carefully, choosing one side means feeding their egos for life.

So, naturally, you pick chaos.

“Why choose?” you say, swallowing the last bite “I can enjoy both.”

Silence.

“Tch. Cop-out answer” Zoro mutters, leaning back.

Sanji dramatically places a hand over his heart “Ah, but that means she appreciates my refined taste and your barbaric drinking habits. What a gracious woman.”

Zoro grunts “Whatever. I still bet I can outdrink both of you.”

Sanji’s eyebrow twitches “Bet? You think Y/N would waste a perfectly good night on your dumb drinking contests?”

“Why not?” Zoro smirks “Scared?”

Sanji slams a hand on the table “Fine. Let’s make it interesting.” He turns to you, eyes gleaming with something mischievous “You in, Y/N?”

You blink “Wait, what? I didn’t—”

“Too late, you’re in!” Luffy declares happily, completely ignoring your protests.

Zoro grins, reaching for his bottle “Hope you can keep up, sweetheart.”

Sanji flips his hair “Please. I’ll make sure the drinks are actually worth drinking.”

You exhale. It’s going to be a long night.

A small table, three bottles of sake, and an ever-growing audience. You sit between Zoro and Sanji, already regretting every choice that led to this moment.

“Rules are simple,” Usopp announces, playing referee “You drink, you keep drinking, and you don’t pass out. Last one still standing wins.”

“I’m not even sure why I agreed to this” you mutter, eyeing the sake bottle in front of you.

Zoro smirks “Too late to back out now.”

Sanji leans closer, resting an arm on the back of your chair “Don’t worry, ma belle, I won’t let this barbarian ruin your delicate palate.”

You grab the sake bottle and pour yourself a drink “I think I’ll survive.”

Luffy claps “Alright! Let’s go!”

Round One

The first sip burns, but it’s smooth. You let it settle, watching Zoro down his drink like it’s water. Sanji takes his time, savoring it like fine wine.

“You drink like an old man” Zoro snorts.

Sanji exhales, eyes closed “You drink like a dehydrated idiot.”

You ignore them and take another sip. The crew cheers.

Round Two

Zoro slams his empty cup down “You good, Y/N?”

You nod, feeling warm but steady “You’re not winning that easily.”

Sanji smirks, pouring another round “That’s the spirit, sweetheart.”

The competition continues. Shot after shot. Zoro stays unfazed. Sanji maintains his elegance. You’re somewhere in between, like buzzed, but totally determined.

Round Five… or Six?

You’re laughing now. At what? Who knows. But Zoro’s grumbling about something, Sanji’s dramatically ranting about “the art of pairing drinks" and Usopp’s trying to keep Luffy from stealing a bottle.

“You’re swayin’, sweetheart” Zoro points out, squinting at you.

You squint back “So are you.”

Sanji chuckles “I think we’ve reached our limit for tonight.”

Zoro frowns “Tch. Speak for yourself.” He tries to stand… and immediately sits back down.

The crew bursts into laughter.

You stretch, victorious “I think that means I win.”

Sanji grins “Ah, a truly magnificent woman.”

Zoro groans “Rematch. Tomorrow.”

You shake your head, leaning back “You two are impossible.”

But the warmth in your chest is not just the alcohol. It’s them.

The sun is way too bright.

You groan, turning over in your hammock, only to regret it immediately. Your head pounds, your mouth is dry, and worst of all there’s movement above you. Loud, heavy footsteps.

“Rise and shine, drunkards!” Nami’s voice cuts through your skull like a dagger “Time to work!”

You peek one eye open, barely registering the blurry figures around you. Zoro is slumped against the mast, arms crossed, snoring. Sanji is sprawled across a deck chair, one arm draped dramatically over his face.

“Ugh,” you mumble, sitting up “What happened?”

“You all lost,” Usopp informs you, grinning “Zoro passed out five minutes after you. Sanji tried to make breakfast but fell asleep with his head in the oven. Franky had to save him.”

Sanji groans “Don’t remind me.”

Zoro cracks an eye open “Tch. I still say I could’ve kept going.”

You rub your temples “You literally lost consciousness.”

“And yet, here I am. Still standing.” He shifts slightly against the mast, clearly not standing.

Sanji stretches, cracking his neck “Well, as much as I’d love to argue with the walking pile of bricks, I have a more pressing concern.” He looks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye “Did you enjoy yourself last night, ma chérie?”

You roll your eyes, but before you can answer—

“You laughed at all my jokes” Zoro interrupts.

Sanji gasps “That can’t be true.”

Zoro smirks “Oh, it is. She even said—”

You slap a hand over his mouth “Nope. Whatever embarrassing thing I said last night, we’re all forgetting it. Forever.”

Sanji chuckles “Oh, this is gold. Tell me more, mosshead.”

Zoro pulls your hand away, grinning lazily “She said I had nice arms.”

“Nice arms? His arms?” Sanji scoffs, crossing his own “Impossible. You must’ve misheard, mosshead.”

Zoro stretches, very deliberately flexing “Nah. She said it. Something about how they look strong but also—what was it? Surprisingly comfortable?”

Your soul leaves your body.

Sanji’s eyes narrow, and in an instant, he’s kneeling beside you, taking your hand like you’re some delicate princess “Ma chérie, tell me it’s not true. Surely, in your fine, inebriated state, you didn’t actually compliment this brute?”

You snatch your hand back “I was drunk!”

Zoro chuckles “Drunk words are sober thoughts, sweetheart.”

You throw a pillow at him “Then I take it back. Your arms are terrible.”

He catches it easily, smirking “Too late.”

Sanji leans in, studying your face with a devilish grin “If you were handing out compliments last night, what did you say about me?”

You freeze.

Zoro perks up “Oh yeah. You definitely said something about him too.”

Sanji’s eyes light up “Did she?”

You shake your head rapidly “Nope. Didn’t happen. He's obviously making fun of you.”

Usopp cackles from the sidelines “Oh, it definitely happened. Wanna hear what you said?”

You grab the nearest object, aka Nami’s sandal, and chuck it at him “Usopp, I swear—”

He ducks, laughing harder.

Sanji taps his chin, pretending to think “Let’s see… What would our dear Y/N have said about me in her drunken honesty?”

Luffy smiles “Something about your hands.”

Sanji blinks “My hands?” Then, realization dawns. His smirk turns dangerous “Oh~? Mon amour, were you admiring my hands last night?”

You feel your soul leaving your body again.

Usopp hums in fake thought “I think it was something like… ‘His hands are unfairly attractive’?”

Sanji gasps dramatically, clutching his chest “You do appreciate fine craftsmanship!”

“I AM GOING TO THROW MYSELF INTO THE SEA.”

Sanji laughs, reaching for your hand again “I can give you a proper demonstration, if you like.”

Zoro rolls his eyes “Gross.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands “This is the worst day of my life.”

Luffy grins “Nah, this is fun! Let’s drink again tonight!”

Absolutely. Not.

The teasing doesn’t stop there.

For the rest of the day, every time Sanji hands you something, he makes sure you see his hands. Passing you a plate? He does it with a dramatic flourish. Offering you a napkin? He takes your fingers in his and presses it gently into your palm, like he’s bestowing a royal gift.

“Enjoying the view, ma chérie?” he purrs, winking.

Meanwhile, Zoro has taken to flexing at random intervals. Not obvious flexing, just enough movement when he stretches or crosses his arms to remind you of your past mistake.

“Need help carrying that?” he asks when you’re lifting a barrel, voice full of smug amusement.

“No.” you deadpan.

He grins “Shame. Would’ve been a good excuse to admire my arms again.”

You consider throwing the barrel at him.

The crew is no help. Usopp won’t stop laughing, Nami looks too entertained, and Luffy keeps saying “Y/N, say more funny drunk things!” like you’re a performing seal.

By dinner, you’ve had enough.

You slam your cup down “Fine! Yes! I said things! But you two are the ones who won’t let it go!”

Zoro smirks “Because it’s fun.”

Sanji grins “Because it’s true.”

You glare “You wish I was thinking those things sober.”

Sanji leans closer, voice dropping just for you “Who says you’re not?”

Zoro tilts his head “If you weren’t thinking it, you wouldn’t be so worked up.”

You open your mouth just to snap it shut right away. They’re both infuriating.

Sanji smirks, Zoro smirks, and you swear if one more person smirks at you tonight, you will riot.

“Dinner’s over,” you declare, standing “I’m going to bed. Alone.”

Sanji laughs “Sweet dreams, ma belle.”

Usopp grins “Try not to dream about their unfairly attractive features.”

You definitely thought of throwing a fork at them all.

But, you should’ve known better than to expect peace.

Zoro doesn’t move his arm, making you stop from leaving. If anything, he pulls you in just a little closer, the warmth of his body radiating through your clothes. His grip is easy, familiar, possessive.

Sanji clicks his tongue, slipping closer to you. His hand finds your knee under the table, tracing small circles against your skin like a silent counterclaim “Tch. Just because she tolerates you doesn’t mean she’s just yours, mosshead.”

Everyone watching with interest, not talking.

You glance between the two, heat creeping up your neck “Do I get a say in this conversation?”

“No” they say in unison.

You groan, grabbing a roll from the table and biting into it aggressively. You let them act like this, and they know it.

Because the truth is whatever this is between the three of you, it’s long past subtle.

It’s in the way Sanji always makes your plate first at dinner, and how Zoro wordlessly steals bites from it without a second thought. It’s in the way Zoro keeps a hand on your waist when you stand at the railing together, and how Sanji absentmindedly tucks your hair behind your ear while he talks.

It’s in the quiet moments. The ones the rest of the crew pretends not to see.

Like last night.

When you were cold, and Zoro pulled you into his arms without hesitation. When Sanji draped his jacket over you both and muttered “Idiots… the both of you” before settling beside you.

When you fell asleep between them, feeling warmer than you ever had before.

But none of you say it out loud.

And yet, here they are, arguing over you like you aren’t already theirs.

Sanji sighs, tilting his head toward you “You deserve better, mon amour.”

Zoro grins lazily “And yet, here she is.”

You roll your eyes, finishing your bread “You’re both ridiculous.”

Zoro hums “Yeah, but you love us anyway.”

You freeze.

Sanji stills.

Everyone gasps while Luffy starts laughing as if that's the funniest thing he ever saw.

Zoro blinks “…Did I say that out loud?”

Sanji smirks “Oh-ho, you did.”

Your heart pounds. Because the worst part?

Zoro’s not wrong.

[cloversnstrawberries]

“safespace” platonic!yandere!og michael myers & gn!bullied!teen!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; For a while now, you've been using the old Myer's house as a home base of sorts; previously, your bullies had never dared to rush in after you, too afraid of the history of the house. That changed one fateful Halloween night, and unknowingly, you'd just sealed yourself into a fate different from death, but not much better.

The Haddonfield Boogeyman has taken a liking to you, and that's not something you can easily retreat from once it happens. Not safely, for that matter.

additional notes; this is. extremely long and I managed to write it within two days. help. i hope you enjoy it, because it was actually really fun to write. it might be in a bit of a different style than normal, because i've been reading. so much junji ito & gothic lit and i don't know if that affects anything.

warnings; bullying, possessive behavior, overprotectiveness, Michael being unsettling, discussions of past murder (judith primarily), violence, blood & gore, murder/murder of teens (reader's bullies), slight/implied neglect (reader's parents are very lax), soft michael (as soft as he can get), kidnapping/imprisonment, and if there's any I missed, please let me know!! i do believe this is the most intense (?) one i've posted so far?? mayhaps?

w/c; 10.2k (OH SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL!)

It’s silly, stupid, some would say-- and you know it is. You know it’s not a good idea to set up shop in the old Myer’s house, and that it was, realistically, the least safe place you could camp out at in Haddonfield,

Structurally speaking, considering how long it’s sat vacant and unattended for the most part. The story and tragedy surrounding it kept squatters away, but it was surprisingly easy to sneak into.

For you, it was one of the safest places possible-- because everyone knows about how unsafe it was. An oxymoron in a way, that you claimed this old rickety house as your safe space because you know it’s dangerous.

Because your tormentors know it’s unsafe, so they’ll leave you be for the most part-- once you’re inside the house that should’ve been torn down ages ago.

It’s a nice house, but you’re sure someone will roll up to a city council meeting and propose tearing down the place. No one’s going to buy it, no amount of polishing the hardwood floors and replacing the peeling wallpaper is going to change that.

The Myer’s house could be renovated into the most gorgeous, affordable home for a good sized family-- and still, no one would buy it.

Judith Myer’s blood, spilt by her own little brother one normal Halloween night, was like a curse laid on the house. Even you have to admit, there’s a strangely foreboding, suffocating atmosphere about it that doesn’t suit how… plain it otherwise appears.

For a few years now, you’ve had your claim staked on this house. Over those few years, you’ve gotten used to that atmosphere. It even began to feel comforting, at some point-- like a hug, kind of.

Your bullies know you’re in here, but they can’t bring themselves to enter it and drag you out. Sometimes they’ll wait outside for you, but don’t take into consideration is that you’ve supplied yourself with enough snacks and various forms of entertainment to be able to wait them out most times.

Cowards, the lot of them-- that’s all they ever were to you. A bunch of unruly, rich assholes that take their grievances out on you for lack of a different outlet,

More like you’re the most interesting outlet-- you’re sure their parents have enough money to get them another way, other than razzing and beating on you constantly-- but they don’t want it.

They like watching you cry, the sickos. But that’s not a sight they get to see too often; not since you’ve almost accidentally made the old Myer’s house into your own kind of fortress,

Guarded by a moat of bad energy and an awful story behind it. Judith still lingers, maybe not her ghost like most would think-- but she’s there.

One time, you walked into her room. It was almost pristine, kept nearly the same as the night she died, you think. The blood is gone, but the chair to her vanity is still knocked over.

You haven’t gone near that room since that one time-- spotting the rotting bag of melted taffy on her bedside table, her brush on the vanity top with golden hair still stuck in the bristles; an opened bottle of lip gloss, long dried up…

It made you sick like nothing before or after could, the knowledge that this was just a normal girl. A normal girl who expected to live another day, to eat the taffy by her bed, knowing she had to clean her hair out of her brush eventually--

She never even got to screw the cap back on her lip gloss, maybe her favorite one if you think about it. A part of you wanted to do it for her, to clean up her room a little for no real reason other than self-imposed obligation.

You’re taking up this space illegally, not quite a squatter, but still a consistent trespasser. The least you could do was clean it up for a family who’ll never come back.

But then, wouldn’t that be rude to mess with a deceased person’s belongings? You stepped out of the room, shutting the door as you clutched your stomach. In your mind, you barred off ever entering it again.

You’ve only had a peak in the little boy’s room-- Michael. Such an ordinary name, and an ordinary room to match. Hell, he could’ve been your little brother, it all appeared so average from the quick look-see you’d gotten.

As soon as you realized who’s room it was, you slammed the door and vowed to never open it again. You didn’t even go near it most times, if at all.

How can someone so normal-- a child so young, just snap like that? It made you sad, thinking about it.

Eventually, you knew it’d come to this, though. When your bullies’ need to torture you overrode the fear, and they followed you into your previously impenetrable fortress.

Your safe-space desecrated, the next time to ran in-- nothing too damaging to the actual house, but your books and magazines were torn. Snacks either eaten or crushed, and the little nest of pillows and blankets you brought from home was tossed around, dirty footprints all over.

“You’re such a coward,” the head boy spoke up, and you know his dad was a real estate agent, the one that oversaw the house, you think. That’s why there wasn’t any real damage to the place.

In your anger and grief, at your one good thing being wrecked like this; you spoke up. These kids-- no, you all weren’t kids anymore by most’s standards. Well into high school, and they were still messing with you for no good reason.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from sadness but from rage. You’d been chased in by two other kids, who were now behind you. Two kids were already inside along with the head boy,

You were surrounded, 5-to-1, and stood no chance. Not because you couldn’t fight physically, but because you knew the consequences of fighting back against these daddy’s money types.

They’ve broken bones before-- your bones, but if you so much as left a scratch on them, they ran to their parents and the repercussions were… dire.

You’d nearly been booted put of school before, because you left a tiny, already healing bruise of one of the girl’s arms after you shoved her down so you could flee.

“Look who’s saying that!” It’s not like you haven’t fought back with your words before, but it’d never been this up close as of late. You’d grown too comfortable, taunting the kids through the door as you did.

Poking a sleeping bear. You really wished this method could’ve lasted a bit longer, hopefully until after you finished high school and left Haddonfield; but beggars can’t be choosers.

You’re lucky it’s worked for this long anyways.

Before the kids could say anything, you started on a tirade. Letting out every little grievance you’ve had over the years-- they can’t let you have this one good thing.

They all get friends upon friends, secret admirers and good partners; they participate in school, they’re active in the community-- meanwhile you’ve been shunned for a good half of your life, resorting to hiding in an abandoned house while they were out living their best lives.

Once you were done, chest heaving up and down, did they say anything further. They mocked you, of course they did-- and when you asked “So what are you gonna do now, huh? Break a couple fingers? Strangle me? Kick me until I’m bruised all over--!”

They called you unoriginal, then grabbed ahold of you. They wrapped rope around your wrists and ankles-- then started dragging you upstairs.

No.

And they didn’t tell you their plan, but you were smart. You picked up on it, especially from how they were talking about the recent breakout from the nearby mental institution.

The institute currently home to none other than the Haddonfield Boogeyman himself, Michael Myers. Or, more accurately, no longer housing the man.

He was among the escaped, one of the few that hadn’t been rounded up after the transport bus crash-- it was October 31st.

You were doomed.

They dragged you to the little boys room, the atmosphere you’d become accustomed to suddenly cranked up to 11, choking you, clinging to the inside of your throat like cling-wrap. Making it hard to breathe, as they tossed you into Michael’s room,

And boy, did they really not want you to leave without their help. They tied you to the wooden poster of the bed, and you couldn’t help but cry.

Ghost stories about Judith staying behind were all fine and dandy, but the very much alive perpetrator being on the loose? The one who’s spent the past god-knows-how-long confined in a mental hospital, since he was a child?

That was a real threat, because it was to some extent predictable and unpredictable what he’d do next. There was no set guarantee that he’d stop by his childhood home, but there was a chance.

And the bullies knew it.

“Stop! Stop, I’m sorry--!” You hated groveling, but this was a real threat. This wasn’t funny-- it hadn’t been for a long time, but this time you can’t comprehend why they’d be laughing at all.

It’s not funny.

You could die. Even if it’s a slim chance of happening, there is a chance nonetheless. A chance greatly increased by Myer’s unpredicted ‘discharge’ from the hospital.

As always, they didn’t care. They were all giggles and smiles as they bid you farewell-- you heard another door open, then a scraping sound as something was set down in front of the door.

You’re sure it was Judith’s vanity chair, that they’d pressed under the door handle. Why? Why do they hate you so much-- there wasn’t even a promise of them returning, either.

Even if the Boogeyman doesn’t show up like you’re afraid of, they might just leave you here to rot with the house. No one would come looking for you, you don’t think-- unless they’re pointed in this direction by your bullies.

What an awful way to spend your Halloween night, huh? Not like you had much planned in the first place, but still.

This isn’t a position you wanted to be in right now. Or ever, thank you very much.

It got dark out a while ago. Inside here, somewhere, there's a clock that still works. Or maybe you’re already going crazy, imagining the ‘tick-tick-tick’ to try and make something for you to do.

Restrained as you are, it’s not like you can do much besides slump against the bed and wait it out. Hope your exhaustion from coming down after an adrenaline rush takes you out sooner or later, because it’s getting awfully boring.

Boredom overrode fear, maybe because you’re loopy from said exhaustion, but too high strung and uncomfortable, sitting on the hardwood floor with your wrists and ankles tied, to take a little nap as it is.

Throughout it all, you kept your eyes shut. Not because you particularly want to sleep, (though you do want to, if only to pass the time quicker) but because you’re trying to pretend you’re anywhere else but here, on this night, at this hour.

Your only other hope at being released right now was if some stupid kid got dared to come in here, like they did every Halloween. But the outlook wasn’t too good, considering the different framing the Myer’s house had with Michael’s recent escape still fresh on everyone’s minds.

Distantly, you can hear kids laughing, screaming, playing around-- all in good fun. You ache, sad that the experience of it had been cut short for you. For years now, you’ve stayed inside as much as possible.

Even on Halloween, and it hurt. Childhood cut short because some rich kids decided to make you their stress toy, punching bag, and scapegoat all in one.

When you hear a creak downstairs, you fight with yourself not to open your eyes. It’ll be pitch black anyways, your reason with yourself. It’ll only make you panic even more.

It was futile, trying to convince yourself that it was just the house settling. For hours, all you’ve been able to hear for the most part was the house settling.

This was different.

Someone was downstairs-- no joking, no yelling at their friends, no egging each other on; and it wasn’t a cop either, because they’d be shouting by now, telling anyone in here to get the hell out before you’re arrested.

It was uncanny, how quiet this person was-- both literally and with their movement. You first heard them faintly, on an especially creaky board near the front door. Then nothing-- until you heard them on the 3rd step, the one that’s about to cave at any moment from termite damage.

A primal kind of terror curled deep in your gut, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up; silence again, until you think the person stopped moving.

Straining your ears, you heard a semi-familiar scraping noise. Whoever it was, was standing in front of this room, and was planning on entering it.

Your eyes flung open, desperately blinking as you tried to force your vision to adjust to the darkness. Surprisingly, the room was a lot lighter than you’d think it be.

No doubt aided by the moth-ravaged curtains serving as the only barrier(s) between the moonlight shining in through the windows.

When the door opened, your heart soared for a moment-- someone wearing work-boots and a mechanic’s jumpsuit. An adult, a scarily quiet adult, but hopefully a responsible one.

All hope was dashed when you looked up at your savior-- and saw a sun-bleached, cheap Captain Kirk Halloween mask staring back at you. Something glinted off the moonlight, you looked down and sure enough; he was clutching a large kitchen knife.

Maybe it was an impersonator, or not Michael at all-- But something made you doubt both ideas. The kitchen knife was a big giveaway, not the plastic kind with fake blood, or a retractable prop one.

It was real, as real as your terror-- was this a hallucination? That thought soothed you more than it should have. Or maybe a dream-- and that’s what made you work up enough courage to speak,

“…Hello.” Voice croaky and trembling, it took away from the casual aspect of the greeting. Trying your best not to look at the knife, or the unsettling mask, you took to staring at the person’s boots.

They looked bloody, drying and tacky-- and you did your best to ignore that for right now. The floor was interesting. Yeah, you opted for looking at the floor instead as you continued, introducing yourself with a shaky voice.

The person didn’t answer you, but they didn’t attack you either. You looked back up at their mask and-- wow, you must look pathetic, you realize now. Eye’s puffy and red from crying, lips chapped and bitten to hell and back, your voice nasally from your stuffed nose.

After a couple minutes of agonizing silence, the person started to move forward-- slow, almost placatingly so, like they were dealing with a startled animal.

You think that’s a very apt comparison, right now. As you jerk away, uncaring as the wooden post dug into your spine-- glancing at the person’s knife, you tried to swallow past a lump in your throat “Don’t hurt me-- please. I-I don’t have much to say, uhm, other than that.”

In all honesty, you don’t think you’re that important of a person-- in everyone else’s eyes, that is. You won’t be missed by a good majority of Haddonfield, and that’s what makes you want to live this through.

For a moment, the person stopped dead in their tracks-- and slowly shook their head. That could be interrupted one of two ways,

One, they have agreed to not hurt you. They shook their head as in ‘okay, i won’t hurt you’, or the more likely option in your mind-- considering they still held onto the knife-- they were disagreeing with your plea.

When they went to move again, you jerked back again. It didn’t do much, and wouldn’t do much unless you suddenly gained the ability to fuse with objects, that is.

The person stopped dead in their tracks again-- even taking a few steps back, and shook their head again. You piped up, despite the way your heart pounded and blood rushed in your ears.

“I-I don’t know what you mean. By that-- the shaking your head.” Almost as an afterthought, you tacked on “I’m sorry.”

Make no mistake, it was a genuine apology. Originally brought on by fear, yes, but you did regret not understanding them nonetheless.

When they started moving again, they were slower. You would’ve felt insulted, being treated like a wild animal ready to bolt-- if this had been a normal situation.

Right now, though? You appreciate how careful they seem to be, as they make their way to the little desk pushed up near the head of the bed.

The placement of the furniture in this room was odd, in your humble opinion-- the desk was where a nightstand would be, but what you assume to have been the nightstand was pushed under a window on the far side from the bed.

Then again, you can’t really expect interior decorating to be the specialty of the homicidal 6 year old that once lived here.

Reaching into the second drawer down, the person pulled out a little journal-- and crouched down to grab a pencil off the ground, before standing back up.

they’re too comfortable here, you anxiously realized. Almost like they’d put that stuff there-- but this can’t be Myers. If or was, wouldn’t he be hacking at you with his knife by now?

The stranger (which you’re hoping and praying isn’t who you think it is) set their knife down on the desk, much to your surprise. You don’t want to touch on why it surprised you, not right now, anyway.

Again, the person moved slowly, this time without the knife-- which let you relax enough to stop trying to actively fuse with the wooden bed frame. For now, at least-- who knows what the near future may hold, maybe you’ll succeed in it.

Weirder things have happened, and weirder things are happening right now-- as the stranger plops down on the floor, just a few feet away from where you sat restrained.

You couldn’t help but smile, as they sat criss-cross applesauce-- half delirious and sleep-deprived, yes, but a smile nonetheless.

Flipping to a page, that was random to you, hut didn’t seem to be to the person, they put the pencil to the paper and started writing something.

Refraining from trying to discern what it is they’re writing. you waited patiently until they stopped and turned the pad to face you,

Heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, you read the words (god he presses hard with that pencil, even left dents in the paper from what you can tell) written on the pad.

“I won’t hurt you. It’s too easy.”

Simultaneously relieving and distressing-- the confirmation that you won’t be hurt (for now, you’re choosing to believe this person), but the ‘reassurance’ that it’s because you were too big of a target. Too obvious of a target,

If only your bullies had taken that sentiment to heart, too. Then you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Curiosity outweighing your caution, you ask “What’s your name?”, despite being about… 85% sure you know who this is.

Turning the pad back around, he scribbles something else. When it’s facing you again, you can very clearly ready what name he’s written down.

“Michael”

You can tell yourself ‘It’s a common name!’ all you want, but that didn’t stomp out the feeling of dread as your suspicion was proven correct.

This was the one thing you’d hoped desperately to be wrong about. Guess life just hates you like that, huh?

You’d say it couldn’t get any worse-- but this is actually going pretty well, all things considered. You aren’t dead, and he’s actually communicating with you-- so that’s something, right?

“Is… was this your room?” For once, his answer was immediate-- he nodded. You suppose there was no reason to hide it, your face must be showing that you figured it out already.

It fell silent, and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Glancing around, you spotted an older edition of Clue sitting on a bookshelf nearby-- right on the top.

Looking back at the man-- Michael, the Michael Myers, which is a fact you’re trying not to dwell on too right right now-- you hazarded to say “Do you wanna, uh-- do you like board games?”

Tragically, he didn’t respond as quick this time. Leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts, wondering if you’d misstepped right into his steadily growing roster of victims.

a short, almost jerky nod, following by him abruptly standing made you jump. Hilariously, he seemed to jump as well; just a little twitch of his hands, but it was reaction nonetheless. You think that’s the closest you’re going to get to scaring a guy like him.

Then he headed to the bookshelf, and easily grabbed Clue from the top. He hadn’t always been this tall, obviously-- you spotted a step ladder, rusted and coated in dust like a majority of the room (and house as a whole) is;

It’s a cute thought, the idea that the kid this bedroom belonged to needed a step ladder to grab a boardgame. As you looked closer, you saw quite a few boardgames up there that you hadn’t noticed before,

The idea that Michael Myers was such a mundane kid, with an interest in board games-- liking them so much that he needed to have a step ladder of his own because he accessed them so much, was a jarring idea.

Another jarring idea-- or realization, more like, is that he must’ve been watching your line of sight very closely to immediately figure out that you were referring to the Clue game.

Before you could get pulled into a panic attack in full (you’ve narrowly been avoiding such a thing by pretending that this was some dream, and you had managed to fall asleep against the dusty children’s bed), Michael came back and sat down again,

This time, he was a little further away. He set the box down, and started opening it-- before you stumbled over your words, remembering that you were a little tied up right now.

“Do-- can you undo the rope around my wrists?” Slowly, ever so slowly, Michael’s head rose from where he’d been looking down to set up the game, black eyeholes eventually meeting your gaze.

Another nod, and he stood. Walking over to the desk, you realized your mistake in wording-- and as you feared, he picked up his knife again.

You’d said undo, not untie. It’s not a stretch to think that meant you have permission for him to cut the rope.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t catch any flesh while he does, yeah? When he walked back over, closer than he’d been this whole time, you valiantly fought back the urge to scream. To tremble, kick, try to fight--

Something about the way he crouched down by your side, still taller than you, with the knife gleaming made you feel vulnerable like never before. It made you feel exposed, flayed open and waiting to prepared into clean cuts of meat for packaging.

Michael was careful with it, his hold almost gentle on your arms, silently telling you hold still as he hooked the knife under the ropes and began to pull up.

Must’ve been a pretty damn sharp knife, or maybe some exceptionally cheap rope on your bullies’ parts, but either way, he got you free pretty easily.

Avoiding any sudden movement, testing the waters; you lowered your hands down to your lap. Michael stayed there a few seconds more, before quickly walking back to desk the drop the knife off on top.

When he came back, you’d already started sorting the cards-- which had gotten a little jumbled in the box. He set up the board, meanwhile.

Is it a very sad thing to say, that you felt more connected to this enigmatic, urban legend-esque serial killer (well, he killed one person definitely and a few other were suspected, but the knife didn’t paint a very good picture) than you did your classmates?

In part, that may be your fault. Alright, it may actually be mostly your fault-- but you were self-isolating for a reason.

You wouldn’t want any possible close friends to incur the wrath of your tormenters-- and become another victim, just for being near you.

Something tells you that Michael wouldn’t-- literally couldn’t-- succumb to that fate for obvious reasons. Maybe that’s why, as you two played a couple rounds of Clue before a cop came nosing around the place, you felt the safest you ever have.

And when the cop did show up, Michael was gone in an instant, almost like a ghost; but you knew better. He just had very quiet footsteps, the kind you would think impossible to achieve with his height and all.

You stayed in that room, waiting until you were sure Michael was gone to shout for help-- the cop came, and you hoped it gave Michael ample time to hide or run if need be.

And you didn’t rat on him-- to show your gratitude for him, y’know, not killing you. And being the closest thing to a friend you’ve both been allowed and allowed yourself to have as of late.

The cop walked you out-- but not before you noticed a little note folded on the accent table near the front door. “meet again?” it read, the pencil still lying next to it.

Taking a short detour, you quickly scrawled "yes :)" and while the smiley face was shaky at best, you hope he'd get the message. Besides, something tells you he'd understand that you were being rushed by the cop right now.

Because something also tells you that he's still here, watching-- you just don't know where. It's the way your skin crawls under the feeling of eyes on you, that tips you off.

When you leave the Myer's house this time around, you don't dread exiting it, some part of you afraid that your bullies had waited it out on the porch, or the yard. Maybe it's because you have a cop escorting you out this time,

Or maybe it's the lingering feeling of the Haddonfield Boogeyman himself keeping on eye on you. Presumably, of course.

The next time you visit the Myer's house, you aren't being chased in for once. If you were, there'd be no real reason to hide in here anyways. Your tormentors evolved, now being able to enter what you previously considered you safespace.

But you had to be sneaky regardless, as the country sheriff had been observed walking around the premise. Maybe to catch Michael, who was still on the loose as far as you knew, or to prevent foolhardy kids from entering the house on a dare.

That'd always been an issue, but before now the cops never cared to do much. The kids almost always psyched themselves out after taking a few steps into the house anyways, and there was hardly any vandalism to worry about.

Now, however, it was far more about keeping the kids themselves safe rather than the house. When you got there, the country sheriff was nowhere to be seen; there was a cop car in the driveway, but you recognized it as one of the ones used for false speed traps.

There was no one in there, and no cop in the house either. The car was enough to deter most, but you've been coming here for a while. They've done something like this before, especially around Halloween.

The difference came with the fact that it was November 3rd, and they usually did away with the deterrent by now. They have good reason, considering you know Michael Myer's is definitely in the house, or at least visiting regularly, but it's a little annoying.

Knowing they'll keep this up for a while longer, indefinitely, and you haven no way of telling if they suddenly decide to plant a cop inside the house to switch things up.

You entered through the back kitchen door, something you don't often do. Usually, when you enter this place, you don't care how you enter it-- just the closest possible entryway.

Which was usually the front door, or a window on the side that's easy to open from the outside. But this time, you get the luxury of picking where you get to enter from.

You brought a wrist watch with you, to monitor the time. Your parents never cared about how late you stayed out before,

But after a cop showed up at their door, you in tow, informing them that you'd been 'hanging out' in the old Myer's house (of course he left out the part where your ankles were bound), suddenly they had something to say about what time you returned home.

And maybe you'd think it was annoying, if you didn't know they had good reason for it. Honestly, you don't know what possessed you to come back here. To agree to meet up again, with a known murderer.

Years of isolation and ostracization at the hands of your peers and bullies alike must've corroded a part of your brain, is your theory. Your need for friendship and belonging was so big that you settled for meeting with a Boogeyman for social interaction.

A Boogeyman that was both parts legend and fact, because when you headed upstairs-- and was almost scared so bad you tumbled down the stairs, when you saw that sun-bleached mask staring back at you.

There was no way you could stifle the little shriek you let out when you felt a hand, large and warm and real-- wrap around your upper arm, your entire body going tense as you were pulled forward, and you could already imagine how it'd feel to have the blade of a kitchen knife lodged deep in your stomach and--

But no pain came, your eyes screwed shut out of terror, you didn't keep track of where he was taking you. In this blinding moment of fear, you forgot all about why you came here in the first place.

This was a bad idea, coming back here when you'd escaped last time by the skin of your teeth, and a few rounds of playing a murder mystery board game with a real mysterious murderer.

When you were pulled to a stop, static filling your ears as your heart pounded a mile a minute, you didn't open your eyes at first. Not until Michael let go of you, and your eyes promptly shot open.

It was only 5:12PM, so there was still some sun shining in through the motheaten curtains, but it wasn't much and you knew it wouldn't be staying for long. It casted long, eerie shadows into the room.

But nothing could compare to how to fell on Michael's mask, making it even more menacing than before. Who thought that a cheap reproduction of William Shatner's face was strike such fear in you?

He was just standing there, which you guess you can't fault him for. When he noticed you were looking at him, he pointed to the floor, near the foot of the bed. Where you'd been sitting last time.

Taking the hint, you quickly plopped down, this time unhindered by ropes restraining you. Funnily enough, you were subconsciously treating Michael as a dinosaur; a T-rex, to be specific.

You moved slowly, trying not to trigger his prey drive or whatever. Trying to make yourself seem as small and weak as you could, to try and keep up his sentiment of “I won’t hurt you. It’s too easy.”

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you tried to start a conversation as Michael walked over to the bookshelf again. "Uh-- so... how have you been?" Obviously, he doesn't respond.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going with this. You try to save yourself, by adding on "Have you been good?", and after a moment, you saw him nod from behind-- as he stood, facing the bookshelf.

He didn't reach up for any game, just slowly turned to face you; when you finally realized he was giving you room to choose, you panicked and squeaked out a little "Sorry--"

Comically, you'd forgotten that was a game-- and game he had, apparently, as he pulled away a few other games and got it out from the back. Task failed successfully, as your math teacher always said back in 7th grade.

When he came back over, you weren't any less high strung. He didn't seem to care-- maybe he didn't even notice-- and went about setting up the game. You busied yourself with reading the manual, having forgotten how to play it.

You weren't perfect with it, though. Sometimes you'd mess up, and it'd lead to Michael moving your piece back to where it'd been, or just pointing at the manual again; sitting innocently beside you on the floor, easy access.

Eventually, when you finished up the first game, only 34 minutes had passed. The sun was almost completely down, but something kept you rooted to your spot for a little longer. A few more rounds of Sorry, and you were well on your way to worrying your parents;

It was only 7:18PM now, but it was November. The sun was long set, and you were getting antsy to leave. After your fifth game concluded, you quickly blurted out "I have to go home."

You tried your best to catch Michael before he started setting up for another round, to minimize any irritation-- but it was obvious he'd been expecting to have another go at it.

Slowly, as everything he seemed to do was either methodically slow or terrifyingly quick with no in between yet to be seen, he lifted his head and stared at you point blank. His eyes hidden behind the mask, but that didn't mean there was any room for you to delude yourself into think he didn't have his full, undivided attention on you.

"My parents will be worried, they're already, uh, suspicious of how late I stay out." Michael doesn't move at all, staying still as a statue, just like you are. You don't make any move to get up, not until you get his express permission.

No matter how human he seems, playing board games so innocently with you-- the fact he was a cold-blooded killer never left your mind. There was no lead-up to his original snap, when he slaughtered his sister in the room just across the hall.

There's no reason to think you'd be an exception to that. One moment it could be fine, and the next you'll be bleeding out on the floor; it made you uneasy, for good reason.

Relief flooded you, a weight lifted from your shoulders as Michael nodded, the relief was pulled away when he stood and approached you-- but reinstated when he got close, just to extend a hand and offer to help you up, it seems.

Palm up, slow with his movements. Like he was dealing with an especially skittish dog. You felt like one, cornered as you were-- but you took his hand, and he was...

Well, it was like he tried to be gentle, but he didn't know how to be. He pulled roughly, but the way his grip faltered when you stumbled-- how he caught you with his other arm, almost desperate. Like he didn't know his own strength.

That terrified you more than the idea that he'd stab a knife through you. The idea that it was more likely for him to accidentally hurt you, how he was trying to restrain himself but it'd always end the same way.

In your panic, you didn't realize the way you'd grabbed onto him. Almost like a hug, one you pulled away from quickly. His arm lingered on your back, barring you from gaining any meaningful distance from him. Before you could think to panic some more, he let you go.

Grabbing onto your hand, he led you out of the room. Down the stairs, and to the living room. He didn't drop your hand once, even as he opened the door and pulled it open for you,

It was you, who wrestled away from the hold. You were on edge, freedom so close you could taste it-- the frigid midwestern wind blowing against your face had never felt so nice, a reprieve from the stifling presence that is Haddonfield's own personal Boogeyman.

Belatedly, you realized what he'd done. He walked you to the door, and he let you pull your hand from his grasp. if he didn't want you too, it'd be easy to not let it happen. His arm stayed where it was for a moment, before dropping heavily by his side.

You took a few small, miniscule steps; careful as you crossed the boundary between the inside of the house and the porch. Michael made no move to stop you,

A part of you wanted to run, a vestigial part of the human mind; buried, fear for something so closely human but so damningly not. Something that landed in the uncanny valley, when it should be human but something was off.

Michael Myer's was the only thing that's ever dredged up this forgotten kind of terror, something that was bigger than you'd ever be resided in him, you think. Deep down, though, you knew you two were similar. Similar enough for him to take mercy on you, for whatever reason.

Similar how? Well, you just don't know, but it's all you can think of as to why he's doing this. Why he not only let you go, but asked for your return-- not to cut a loose thread, but to play board games.

A few steps further, and you stood on the edge of the porch. When you turned around, seeing Michael standing in the doorway like it was normal; like either of you were normal, softened something in you.

Fear loosened it's hold on you, and in that moment, all you could do was smile and give a little wave, saying "I'll see you again?" He nodded, slow again. Smile growing wider, you let yourself giggle-- why? You don't know, you didn't find anything funny. It just felt right.

"Okay. I'll... see you later, I might get grounded for this, so it might be a while." You flashed a little thumbs up, before turning around and staring at the three short steps before you.

Feeling freer than you had in years, a bit of your childhood returned to you-- the childhood stolen by your bullies, you let yourself take a few steps back; gaining a running start, you hopped all three stairs.

Landing hard on the concrete, you wobbled a bit. Legs shaky from sitting for so long, but you didn't fall. If you had, you probably would've scraped your knees-- and the idea of it was freeing.

Being able to get hurt in such a meaningless way, getting hurt in a way kids should be getting hurt. Not coming home with broken ribs after school, before shutting yourself away in your room and seldom going outside, But coming home with a big smile, despite the shallow cuts on your legs.

When you turned around again, the door was closed-- but you saw a hint of movement from the window beside it, and sure enough, you saw the telltale white of Michael's mask.

You spared another wave, before you were off on your way.

5 months.

It's been roughly 5 months, since you started hanging around Michael. The feeling of guilt comes and goes on a whim, when you'd remember who this really was. A few more murders, some rich people from the nicer part of Haddonfield; the news attributed it to Michael Myers, which you couldn't argue with.

You could turn him in. You should turn him in, should've done it ages ago, you know-- but you can't bring yourself to do the right thing. It's wholly selfish, your want to keep him a well-hidden secret.

As sad as it was, he was your only friend. He didn't ask questions like your parents, questions that never lead anywhere-- it didn't matter if you told them the truth or not,

Whether or not you said "it was awful, the kids are still bullying me" or "it was okay" when they asked "how was school?", you always got the same kind of meaningless, cookie cutter response.

Sometimes it was more insulting, though, when you used to answer truthfully. Condescending, as your mom once again told you to "Think of what they're going through" and it irked you. She's the one who took the brunt of the bills, had to do the co-pay after you got a cast for your broken arm.

Those kids... they aren't bullying you because their life is bad. The worst they've gone through is their favorite perfume being out of stock, or their siblings got to have the TV remote the night prior.

Why should you give them that kind of consideration, when they obviously didn't spare you a second thought? You had a metal bat by your bed for a reason, walking everywhere with a small switchblade nestled in your coat pocket.

You never used it, but even Haddonfield could be dangerous-- there were three main sections of it, the Diamond District, a gated community for the ultra rich; the suburbs, and the closest to 'slums' as it got.

Where you lived, far from the white picket fences of the suburbs, and the glitzy modern exteriors of the Diamond District

But now, you practically live at the old Myer's house. Your bullies are still after you, but you always try to lose them before making it to the Myer's house. You hated them, but you didn't like the possibility of Michael going berserk on them.

He's probably snap at you too, and you wouldn't know how to cope with it-- for the remaining few minutes of your life, that your only friend would turn on you on a dime. Even though you knew it from the get, that this was dangerous. This agreement.

Sometimes you slept over, and you'd tell your parents that you finally made a friend. They wanted to meet them, but you'd just say they're shy, or something along those lines.

It was on accident, the first time you did it. It was in the dead of winter, bundled up in your outerwear while in the house. It was cold, and Michael was kind enough to wrap a few blankets around you.

And you kept delaying leaving, as cold as it was in the old Myer's house, you knew it'd be worse outside. You ended up falling asleep, waking up when the sun began to rise.

Michael came in, and handed you a granola bar. You don't know how he sourced it-- sourced snacks he'd give you, but you never thought to ask. You wanted to, but you never actually considered prying.

You scarfed it, before saying your gratitudes, goodbyes, and rushing out the door-- your parents were surprisingly lax with it. Under the false pretense that you'd been safe and sound in a warm house, with your friend from school.

Besides, everyone assumed that Myer's had moved on back then. There was this 3 month gap between his killings, and even when that broke, they were sparse enough that your parent's still didn't care much.

It was early April, and it was getting nice out again. You've managed to avoid your bullies trailing you as of late, by... just letting them whatever at school. It's not like they want to brave the cold weather anyways, so you knew sooner or later they'd start harassing you outside of school again.

Even if you let them hurt you at school, do whatever they please-- it still won't be enough. It'll never be enough, nothing will for people like them. You just can't wait to graduate and get the hell out of dodge.

The past few weeks, they've been trying to follow you. Every time they did, you managed to lose them; probably because they weren't too intent on it yet. They liked toying with you, but didn't care enough to keep following after a certain amount of times.

As a diversion, you've been sitting around the park a lot, in a little grotto near the playground no one plays on anymore. It's wooden, rotted, and should've been torn down ages ago-- the swings are still functional though, if a little squeaky.

It wasn't a stretch to assume you'd succeeded in tricking them; that they assumed this was your new home base. Again, no matter how much you hated them, you didn't want them dead.

And you definitely didn't want to be the one responsible for leading them to their death; to the murderer you deemed a friend, your only one. It was a moral dilemma. Michael was still a killer, and you should turn him in--

But you don't. Again, it was selfish, but he wasn't... doing that much harm right now. Just a few people, rich people who you have no connection to. It makes you sick, the fact you, by default, don't care that much.

You care, you care when you realize they were people with lives and families, that they were just like Judith. Ever since you started coming to the old Myer's house, you've been making a picture of her in your head.

Those people, too, had taffy left uneaten by their bedside. Hair brushes to clean, caps that needed to be screwed back on lip glosses; not those items exactly, you're sure, but the allegory stood the same.

The guilt is unbearable somedays, the idea that you're also partly responsible for those people's death. If you'd just turned in him, then you wouldn't have gotten in this deep.

just a bit longer, you tell yourself. I'll... report him if he kills anyone else, but maybe he's getting better, you think-- knowing more than well he isn't.

He's stagnant right now, but that's because he's satiated. Maybe by your near-daily meetings, the feeling of human contact that he probably hasn't felt since he was child. Since before he was locked up from such a young age.

i hope it stays that way, and deep down, you know it's in vain; recognizing that hope will do no good in situation like this, when dealing with a man-- an entity-- like Michael Myers.

This can't be real. It's a nightmare, it's a nightmare-- you can scream it all you want, but it won't take away from the scene before you.

You were toying with danger, with death itself; you stared in its face and dared to call it a friend, and look where that got you. It was always going to end like this, wasn't it? And you knew, you knew it would but that didn't stop you from it.

A lonely child will always seek the comfort of anyone who offers it without hesitation, and no matter how much you've grown-- how close you are to being an adult, teetering just on that edge,

Once a lonely child, always a lonely child. The bruises have healed, but it still feels like they're marring every inch of your skin; ribs that were broken are just fine now, but if you move too quick you swear you can feel them like you'd felt them back then.

"Why?" Your voice is choked, and you haven't felt this afraid in a long time. Cowering as you were, in the far corner of the attic. A large circular window loomed behind you, casting light onto you like Heaven was calling you home.

Do you even deserve Heaven, though? You might not have been the one to wield the knife, but you're guilty by association. There was no blood on you, but your hands were still painted red.

All five of them, crumpled on the ground; they looked so scared, but something in the back of your mind told you that they'd never understand true fear. This was momentary, before they met their swift end,

They didn't know the fear of anticipation. The fear of never knowing what would happen next, when or how it would come about; but just knowing that it would. That you weren’t at the end of the tunnel just yet, and fearing that you never would be.

Michael just stands there, unmoving. His head tilted like a curious bird, like the crows you fed at the park sometimes. He wasn't wearing the mechanic's suit anymore-- you'd bring him clothes when you could, picked up from thrift shops or garage/yard sales;

It felt even more damning, the red staining his previously pristine sky blue t-shirt. The shirt you’d given to him. Blood once again caked on his shoes, after he'd worked so hard to clean them when you expressed discomfort at it once.

The mask never came off, you never saw his face-- but at this point, you feel like any face that wasn't the mask wouldn't be Michael's. The most you've seen was up to his mouth, when he'd eat with you sometimes.

Again, as you pull your knees to your chest, and fight to hold back a shuddering cry, you ask "Why? Why would you do this?"

And he just stands there. He just stands there and stares at you like he always has, like he always will. You've long come to terms with the fact that he doesn't speak, and in your opinion it makes him a little easier to interact with.

Slow, steady steps-- he turns, and walks to entrance of the attic. He climbs down, leaving you alone for now. With no way to tell the time, you just sit there. The sun doesn't dim, since it was just a little past noon when you got here.

When you saw that note on the accent table near the door, telling you come up to the attic. You didn't question it, you didn't think anything was amiss until you were halfway into the room and Michael stood between you and the exit, bloodied and pointing to the heap of bodies.

Bodies that had once been so full of life, active in the community; beloved by most, feared by others. The golden boys and girls, the ones everyone strives to be or envies in some ways, unless you happen to be their punching bag.

Even with how terrible they were, it wasn't meant to end like this. You shake and tremble as you press your face against your knees; you don't forgive them, you never would, but they have lives.

Had lives, something you were never afforded the luxury of, holed up in your room half the time, and hanging out with the serial killer that did them in the rest of the time.

Michael was being loud, louder than you've ever known him to be. All you could think was maybe... he was trying to ease your worries? Wordlessly let you know that he wasn't going to sneak up and add you to that pile?

For once, you hear when he comes back up. You don't look up, fear seizing every muscle and making you unable to move an inch-- until he's just a few feet away, and your head flies up from where you'd pressed it against your knees.

He was sitting on the floor, right in front of you-- he was writing in a notepad, the same one he used when you first met. Michael's used it since then, but usually just communicates with shakes or nods of his head.

When he turns the book around, it's hard to read the words-- not for lack of light, but because of the way your tears blur your vision. When you're able to blink them away long enough to read, you almost can't believe what he wrote.

"Didn't mean to scare you. They were hurting you, and I didn't like it."

Didn't... didn't mean to scare you? He-- he brought you up here, just to find him covered in blood and pointing at five dead bodies!

five dead bodies of people you knew, even if you didn't like them, you still knew them-- and you knew this was likely to happen, but you tried to convince yourself it wouldn't. For your own sake.

"Are... are you going to..." Kill felt like too heavy of a word right now, too real, so you opted for "...Hurt me too?" Voice small, smaller than you think it's ever been. God, you feel like a child again, asking your mom why the kids at school didn't like you.

Small and helpless, lost and unable to come up with answers on your own. Michael shook his head quickly, and it made you jump-- it wasn't often that he moved quickly like that. He stopped immediately, and turned the notepad around and quickly scrawled something, before turning it back to you.

"Never hurt you" It was hastily written, messy in a way that disturbed you, when addressing Michael. He didn't even add punctuation. For a third time, you ask "Why?" But this time with more intention, knowing what exactly you were asking about.

He didn't move for a bit, and turned the notepad around more slowly, and his pencil hovered above the page-- like he was really thinking this through. A few minutes passed, moving at an agonizing crawl, before he finally turned the notepad around so you could read it.

There were a couple messages scribbled out, but you didn't bother to try and make them out. He'd finally settled on a simple "Because you're my friend."

"How do I know you won’t hurt me?" It was a hard pill to swallow, the knowledge that you just... there's no way to confirm that he won't. He's unpredictable in a way that scares you, because you can't even begin to wrap your head around how he operates.

This time, the answer came quickly; it was messy again, the handwriting, and it made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. It made you turn inward and ask why you did this to yourself, why you couldn't have just turned him in at the start.

There's no one to blame but yourself, and that's what hurts the most-- you knew the risk, you took it, and now you're reaping what you sowed.

"I don't hurt what's mine", written in dark letters; once again, he was pressing too hard with the pencil. Once, you thought it was endearing, but now you can't help but realize why he pressed so hard in the first place.

Michael didn't know how to be gentle. Yes, he tried, but there's no telling that he won't give up eventually. For a while, you just stare at the words, at the claim-- he doesn't turn the notepad away,

It's damning, it's a vice gripped around your heart; a steel wire wrapped around your throat. Rope around your wrists, a lock on the door. Everything that can and will be used to keep you here,

To keep you with him.

"I want to go home." You choke out, but he just shakes his head. Oh, how badly you want to scream, to shove him and run; it's broad daylight, surely he won't follow you.

But he's... God, you hate to admit it, but he's all you have. And-- and the bodies, oh god, you're going to be blamed for it, aren't you? It's a perfect story in the making, you've been tormented for so long, so publicly.

It wouldn't be a stretch to say you went mad, that there was something innate to the ground below the Myer's house; a curse weaved into the floorboards, that makes anyone who spends time in the house lose it eventually, if they're capable of such a thing.

That you took the knife in your hand, and slit their throats yourself.

The notepad was facing you again, and you hadn't even noticed he was writing in the first place. It was an explanation for his refusal, but it only made your skin crawl,

"This is your home.", and you just sit there and stare again. Slowly, Michael sets the notepad down. Slowly, he inches forward-- you don't flinch, eyes glazed, staring at where the notepad had been.

Then, his arms are wrapped around you-- and you just... you just melt. You cry, there's no way you can't. You weep until you have nothing left, face tucked into Michael's shoulder.

The blood, still a bit tacky at first, clung to the front of your shirt as well. Michael pulls you as close as he physically can, without merging you two into one continuous being.

He's right, isn't he? This is your home now, and has been for a long time. Before Michael showed up, even, you were spending nights in the Myer's house. Despite the history, it felt leagues safer than your own room.

When your tears are all dried up, still hiccupping and trembling, Michael carefully picks you up. Handling you like glass, but it's unnatural. Stilted-- not a performance, but it's new to him.

Going down the ladder was a slow process, and you were half asleep from pure exhaustion when he set you down on a mattress-- his old bed. You sat, slumped sideways against the headboard as he pulled the cover back and helped you lay down,

He tucked you in, and the thought crossed your mind that his parents must've done this for him when he was younger. They were a normal family, the Myer's-- over the years, people had tried to prove that Michael's snap was caused by abuse, or neglect, or something bad that happened to him in his early development.

But nothing was found on the topic, if anything, the digging exposed the Myer's as the picture-perfect American family. No reason for a 6 year old to kill his sister, other than he just wanted to.

Demonic possession was also a proposed explanation-- more by the townspeople than actual professionals, but it had merit, didn't it? Something about Michael was off, and even if you removed the mask, you're sure it wouldn't change anything.

By the time you're drifting off, weighed down by bone deep weariness from all that happened, Michael is still sitting at the foot of the bed, off on the edge. He isn't watching you, his head facing forward, but it was still unnerving.

When the news of six missing teenagers hit, the town went into a frenzy. Michael has long since dropped the bodies off in the forest-- he didn't want it stinking up the house, because he knew it'd make you uncomfortable,

They found the bodies there, but that didn't stop the cops from searching the Myer's house one last time. That night, Michael took you on a walk, and you two visited the park his parent's used to take him to often.

You were actually swinging, while he kind of just sat on it. Nobody saw you two, there were no reports of you still being alive. Everyone assumed you'd died with your bullies, but your body was elsewhere.

That you fought more than your bullies had, or maybe less-- either way, you died further away from them.

Isolated, just like you’d been in life; even in death, Michael’s sure those horrible kids would make to not be near you.

The cops never considered the possibility that they were killed elsewhere, and dumped later. An oversight on their part, but Michael obviously wasn’t going to correct them on it.

Michael cleaned the attic, not like they'd check it anyways. They never did when they searched the house, and Michael thought it was ridiculous. It was almost too easy to avoid them, but he didn't want to take a chance with you.

He doesn't know what he'd do without you now that he has you. There's no solid reason why he spared you that first night, the 'it's too easy' had been little more than an excuse to spare you, or why he kept sparing you. Why he began to look forward to your meetings.

Something about you was comforting to him, a comfort he hasn't felt in so long that it feel alien now that he's feeling it. Those kids had it coming, he thinks. He's considered going after their parents, as well-- for raising such awful brats.

To torment someone like you-- it both enraged and confused Michael to no end. You were the most innocent person in his mind, even if it was just dumb luck that he found you when he did; that he wasn't in a bad mood.

He doesn't know what comes next, but all he knows is that he'll keep you by his side the whole time. Maybe... you two could move, he'd take on a false identity and flee to Canada with you. Pretend that you're his... younger sibling, because he doesn't think he can get away with claiming you as his child. He isn't all that much older than you, in the grand scheme of things.

As long as you're by his side, then he doesn't really care about what comes next. He just wants you, and to keep you safe and happy. Michael isn't familiar with this, with being soft or gentle; but he'll try for you.

He'd do anything for you, if he's completely honest with himself.

[melzula]

hii i was wondering could you write a oneshot of how zuko's self cautious of his scar and reader just kisses his scar and reassures him and tells him that hes perfect and that she loves everything abt him. This is in a very like intimate and loving way ykyk

a/n: ah this plot is so sweet! had to rewrite this piece a few times before landing on something i liked so i hope you enjoy!

summary: zuko asks you to remove his bandages

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I can fetch Iroh instead.”

“No,” comes Zuko’s soft reply, his sullen features bathed in candle light. “I want it to be you.”

Sighing softly, you give him an understanding nod and press a careful kiss to his check. The Prince remains stoic in spite of your show of affection, simply signaling for you to proceed.

It’s been a week since the Agni Kai, and the healer has given Zuko the okay to remove his bandages. The wound should be healed by now, nothing but a painless scar with a painful memory attached to it. It’s not only your first time seeing Zuko’s new face but his as well, and neither of you are sure what to expect.

You were honestly surprised when the Prince had asked for you to be the one to remove his bandages. He’d been cold and standoffish with you since your departure from the Fire Nation, something you couldn’t blame him for considering all he’d been through, but you didn’t expect him to trust you with something so important so soon. It made you nervous, but it also made you relieved to know he still felt he could trust you with such things.

Your fingers work carefully as you unravel the white cloth around his head, doing your best not to cause too much discomfort for your Prince. He says nothing as you move and only watches you through the reflection of the mirror before him.

“Are you ready?” You ask him softly, hesitating as you reach the final layer of wrapping.

“Hesitation is a sign of weakness,” Zuko replies gruffly, and that’s all you need to hear before finally pulling away the last of the bandages.

The room is silent and tense as Zuko stares at his own reflection. The skin around his eye is angry and red, permanently damaged and forever serving as a reminder of his failure. He can hardly see out of his left eye, but he’s still able to make out your figure watching on silently as he assesses the damage.

“Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what, Zuko?” You murmur softly, carefully resting a hand upon his back.

“Say you’re disgusted by me. Say you’re repulsed,” he snarls bitterly. “Say that you’re too embarrassed to be seen with such a failure!”

“Is that really what you think?” You utter sadly, a pained smile on your lips as you carefully reach out to touch his face. His hand immediately flies up to catch your wrist in a firm grip before you can get any closer, and despite the discomfort it brings you make no attempt to move.

“It’s what I know.”

“Then you must not know me at all,” you counter with a small shake of your head.

Reality sets in and Zuko guiltily removes his ironclad grip on your wrist. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you, but there’s an amalgamation of emotions festering within him at the sight of his deformity. He was a Prince, he wasn’t meant to look like this, he wasn’t meant to be out at sea fruitlessly trying to find the Avatar so he could end his banishment. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“You’re perfect, Zuko,” you console with a careful brush of your fingertips against the freshly healed skin. His eyes flutter shut at the comforting sensation, and you take it as a sign to continue. “I love you the way you are, and this scar doesn’t change that.”

He can’t help but gasp when he feels the softness of your lips pressing against his temple. How could you not feel sickened by him? How could you still love him after everything?

“Your scar is nothing but a sign of your strength, I hope you know that,” you tell him before pressing another kiss to his cheek just below his eye.

He says nothing in response, but you know that he understands you. With you, he doesn’t have to feel shame or guilt. Your love for him knows no bounds, and there’s nothing he could do that would ever make you turn away from him.

He sits in silence as you begin to apply a soothing balm to his skin. His eyes close in contentment and for the first time since leaving home he finally feels at peace.

He knows then that he made the right choice in having you be the one to remove his bandages. No one sees him like you do, and it’s more than he could ever ask for.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

[valyrielwrites]

As You Are

Part 2/? (full fic available on Ao3)

Relationship: Aemond Targaryen / AFAB Reader Word Count: 2308 Summary: Set one month after the wedding, you and your husband Prince Aemond come to terms with the growing love that blooms within the bright flame of desire. Warnings: Smut, 18+ themes, Oral, Sex

Author Note: This is a follow up to what was originally a oneshot that I posted back in 2023, which can be found here (Part 1). However, this can also be read as a stand alone ✨ enjoy!

You woke to the sound of chirping birds, squinting as your bleary eyes adjusted to the warm morning light that filtered through the half-opened curtains. Last night's sheets were still wrapped around your tender body as you rolled over to find your husband's side of the bed, empty and unmade.

Prince Aemond sat a short distance away, his unbound silver hair tucked behind his ear as he remained perched in an armchair by the open window, a leather-bound book in hand.

It had only been a month since the wedding, and although you had your own personal quarters, you still spent most of your mornings like that - warming your husband's bed, reluctant to part from him unless necessary, relishing the comfort that his company brought you.

"Come back to bed..." you hummed, your throat hoarse and heavy from your slumber.

He looked up at the sound of your voice, the sapphire in his eye refracting ever so slightly in the light, "I couldn't sleep."

"We do not have to sleep," you said.

A small smile broke the focus on his face as you carelessly sat up, allowing the silk sheets to slip and expose your bare breast in an open invitation.

"You're incorrigible," he sighed and raised a brow, yet put his book down all the same.

You gave him a wicked smile, "Am I?"

Aemond stood and walked slowly toward the bed, his hand ghosting the knot at his waist that barely held his robe together, those long fingers sliding carefully in but pausing just short of unfastening the loop.

"Here I am, enjoying a perfectly good book, and yet you are determined to drive me to distraction..." he stopped at the foot of the bed and looked down at you with a warm smile that betrayed his scolding tone.

You playfully kicked out your leg, stroking along the length of his thigh with your foot as you pouted, "I am terribly sorry, my prince."

"My wife ought to know her place," he teased, a considering look in his eye as he trailed his fingers along the curve of your calf. "Hmm, I dread to know what others at court might say about your behaviour."

"Well, 'tis hard to know my place when my husband so cruelly abandons me come dawn..."

"Abandons?" he scoffed. "You would accuse me of being so heartless? When I simply wished not to disturb your slumber?"

You squealed in delight when he grasped your ankle to drag you slowly across the mattress, your back slipping against the silk sheets with ease as you offered no resistance. Your body ached for him, something dark and consuming pooled in the pit of your stomach as he set you down against the edge of the bed beneath his towering figure.

"Ah - I humbly beg my Lord husband's forgiveness for any offence caused," you giggled unapologetically, sitting up and shaking your tousled hair out of your face to better see his mock disapproval.

Aemond's hand caressed your jaw, carefully lifting your gaze to meet him as he stroked his thumb along your bottom lip, "How shall you make it up to me?"

"I have a few ideas," your voice was low, desperate with wanting.

Aemond took a sharp breath as you pulled apart the knot that keeps his robe together, his hardening cock suddenly freed from the fabric as you took him in your hand and stroked slowly from the head to the base. You wet your lips and leant forward to press a delicate kiss against the shaft, your grip tightening just ever so slightly as his fingers entangled themselves amidst your hair.

He smirked, "Enlighten me?"

Aemond twitched when you gazed up at him, desire blazing through your eyes as you carefully flit your tongue along the pre-cum that gathered at the tip, watching eagerly when his lips parted and a small gasp caught in his throat.

You took your time, slowly but surely wrapping your lips around him as you lowered your mouth onto his considerable length, relaxing your jaw to take him as far as you could before the urge to breathe again had a chance to spoil your fun.

"Fuck -" Aemond plead, his hand stroking the crown of your head as he guided you.

You let out a hum of satisfaction while you swirled your tongue around his cock, bobbing your head, and watching the way that your husband's head rolled forward with a low groan. Aemond grunted and held you in place when you swallowed, a feverish heat prickling up his spine when you groaned around his cock and pushed yourself as far as you can go before your breath escapes you.  

He drank in the sight of you, your body flush with desire, with the insatiable hunger that had alighted between you. It took everything he had not to buck his hips, to chase the pleasure that you coaxed from him, to allow you the power to unravel him so perfectly.

You withdrew with a gasp for air, your lungs desperate for relief, the laughter shaky in your throat as Aemond quickly leant down to steal a kiss.

"Am I forgiven?" you moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue hot as it caressed your own.

"Not yet," he whispered, his teeth grazing your lower lip. "But if this is the kind of apology I can expect to receive, perhaps we should bicker more often?"

"Only if you extend the same courtesy to me," you replied.

"Hmm... " he grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

You felt his hand cup the swell of your breast, his touch was warm against the cool morning air as his thumb traced circles around your nipple, his kiss softening as he lowered himself to kneel on the edge of the mattress.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes half-lidded, your forehead resting against his own. Aemond allowed you a moment to catch your breath, for you to weave your fingers through his silver hair and graze the nape of his neck, before he slowly shifted and pulled you into his lap. His hands stroked along the outline of your body, charting every bend and curve in his endless endeavour to know you as no other man could.

He brought his lips to yours again, his voice low as his hand wandered to the apex of your thighs, "Here?"

"Aemond -" you let out a ragged breath, a wordless plea for more as his forefinger began to run slow clumsy strokes against your clit.

"You're already so wet for me," he hissed as you deepened the kiss, his finger slipping inside with ease. "I could take you right now," he withdrew to the knuckle and slowly pushed back in with a second digit. "Is that what you want?"

You whimpered as his thumb stopped at the bud, pressing firm as his fingers thrust in and out with agonising precision, pleasure pooling in your belly as you rocked your hips forward. His lips found the crook of your neck as your head rolled back, playfully nipping the sensitive skin as you reached for his cock and found it harder than ever before.

Aemond groaned, the pace of his fingers quickening as you stroked him, overcome by an aching need to bury himself inside you. Acting entirely on impulse, before he even realised what he was doing, he removed his fingers and brushed your hand aside to move you so that your body was finally flush against his.

"I need you in me," you begged him as he angled his cock beneath you, the tip brushing perfectly against your swollen clit on its way to your entrance. "Seven hells, Aemond... Fuck -"

You locked eyes as he raised his hips, and the length of him finally pushed in, his gaze intent and unwavering as he sheathed himself as deep as he could go. He stared and stared at you, holding your head in place so that you couldn't look away, and a deep and unspeakable sense of belonging closed the space around you until you were all that was left in his world.

You let out a restrained groan at the way that your body tightened around him, at how full he had made you. Your hands gripped the strong muscles around his shoulders, pulling him into an eager embrace, as if clinging to him could ground you somewhat - to remind you of who you were when the rest of your senses escaped you.

Aemond closed his eye and buried his face into your neck as his hands rested at your lower back, his cock twitching inside of you as he breathed in your scent, for a moment unsure how to tell where he ended and you began. All that he knew, all that he could be... You were his, and he was yours, joined body and soul to become two parts of a greater whole.

You rolled your hips forward as naturally as breathing, a pulse of relief flooding your veins as your body relaxed into him with a gratified shudder. You felt Aemond's mouth on your neck, trailing kisses up and alongside your jaw, his breath hot and heady as you leant back far enough for his lips to find your own again, muffling the sounds that you made.

He matched your movement, rocking his hips in time with your own as the pace gathered a sense of urgency, a longing call for release that heightened with every thrust. Aemond could feel how close you already were, the way your muscles tensed, how frantic your moans had become, as you locked your legs around his waist to try to gain some leverage and drive him deeper.

"-Not yet," he gasped, his voice commanding and raw, as he suddenly lifted you again and shuffled up the bed, tossing you onto your back against the pillows.

You whined at the unforeseen pause, watching the way his cock glistened with your arousal as he adjusted his position, yearning for him to be inside you again before you could realise how empty it feels when he is not.

"Put it back in," you pleaded. "Please... Oh gods, I love how you feel when you're inside me."  

Aemond knelt upright, pulling your legs up over his shoulders as he brought the head of his cock back home again.

"You love it, hmm?" he asked as he leant forward and bore his weight with both arms.

"Yes-" you tilted your hips up, chasing that connection, brow furrowed in frustration as you only got as far as the tip.

Aemond let out a huff of laughter, his head dipping even closer as he brought his forehead to rest against yours, "... Do you love me?"

You swallowed, stopping as you finally met his gaze again and felt the weight of the air between you, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. You already knew the answer, and he did too, but neither of you had breathed truth into those words yet.

It was strange how something so simple could mean so much, how the dull flame of desire could burn into the brightest love you had ever known.

You reached up to tuck a silver strand behind his ear, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek as a sweet smile breaks across your face and said, "always, Aemond."

"Ñuha jorrāeliarzy..." his eye closed as relief washed over him.

"Is that Valyrian?"

"Mmm," he hummed in confirmation. "It means 'my beloved'."

He didn't give you the chance to reply, his lips were already on yours again, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he finally pushed his cock back into your heat. You cried out in ecstasy when he hit you at exactly the right angle, your walls tightening around him as he relentlessly drove into you.

Your back arched off the bed as he pulled himself upright again, his arm pinning your legs in place as he fucked you hard and deep, the sound of nothing but your grateful moans and skin against skin to keep his tempo.

A few thrusts more, and you were approaching the precipice, pleasure sparking through your core as you writhed beneath him. He let out a strangled groan when he felt you tense around his cock, the sight of you so thoroughly undone bringing him closer to the edge, too. He looked down at himself, at the way you took him so perfectly in, at how you trembled as your orgasm peaked, and he couldn't stop himself from falling with you.

You shuddered as you felt him empty himself inside, relishing the immense heat of him when he buried himself to the hilt, a feverish look in his eye as his hips gradually stilled. Your legs slipped from his shoulders as he slumped forward to kiss you, a languid and sweet relief as you brought your bodies flush again.

"When does it end? This want that I have for you," he murmured against your lips, his thumb slowly stroking the outline of your cheek. "I can scarcely remember what I was doing before you distracted me."

"I don't recall either, my love," you whispered.

Aemond releases a content sigh as he unsheathed himself and rolled onto his side, reaching for a nearby towel so that he had something to clean the mess that he had made. He let out a soft laugh and pressed a kiss against your breast as he wiped between your thighs.

You settled back under the covers together, cradled in his arms as if the world outside the room no longer existed, as if there was nothing else worth getting up for. You knew that you couldn't stay like that forever, and that eventually duty would call him away - but for now, you were both exactly where you belonged.

[blublublujk]

closer

oneshot

word count: 12.7k

genre: step-siblings to lovers, dead dove (proceed with caution)

pairing: dongsaeng jungkook × noona reader

summary:

Jungkook had always known there was something wrong with him when he realized his obsession with his Noona was far too intimate consider their relationship, but she was perfect for him. Can anyone really blame him for falling in love with his beautiful older step-sister?

warnings: [PLEASE READ] dead dove, eat with caution (they are step-siblings and it's a bit romanticized), there's mentions of the pairing as minors but nothing too oversexualized and in detail, mentions of violent behavior (not towards reader), mentions of jungkook possibly being asexual or gay (he's not lol), pairing has shit parents and jungkook's father is an alcoholic, parent issues to the max, petite reader (fit the plot better), explicit sexual content: dirty sexual thoughts, jk has a huge dick and he jacks off so much, someone's a virgin in this and it is NOT the reader, there's a lot of crying in this one, jungkook probably needs therapy and the reader lol, extremely possessive and obsessive jungkook, DADDY KINK, hickeys, unprotected rough vaginal sex, dubious consent but they both want it, dirty talk, the reader slaps jungkook, squirting, blowjob, cunnilingus, come tasting/swallowing, slight ass play, choking, multiple orgasms, passing out and overstimulation, creampie, pregnancy (oopsie)

a.n: well i have no fucking words. im actually a bit shy and embarrassed to release this after my last post but we move on! this wasn’t apart of my drafts either SIGH. wrote this because i was insanely horny and ovulating so have fun ig. please enjoy it nicely. i certainly did. if you look past all the dark stuff you might find it’s actually pretty hot. i cant even believe i wrote this. im really scared … if anyone is crazy enough, please comment your thoughts. tempted to do more of these deranged stories. since tmr is christmas i leave this as a final parting gift for this year though it has nothing to do with chirstmas. byebye angels and merriest of chirstmas to you all <3

—> m.list

—> find me on ao3 & twt

--

Jungkook has officially hit rock bottom. 

He has officially lost his mind. Again and again he comes back to what he knows he shouldn’t and knows that, but he’s only a man after all. Can anyone really blame him?

For the third time that night, Jungkook has fisted his cock empty. The younger’s dick was raw and swollen– sticky from the amount of beatings he had pumped. His ballsack had nothing else more to give him and Jungkook started to grow frustrated. His dick was still heavy in his palm, aching for something he knows he could never fucking have. It simply wasn’t fair. 

Jungkook pants loudly, wiping his dirty come all over his black sheets. He’s dripping sweat and he feels his dick might fall off if he keeps masturbating this much, but it was simply impossible. He’s a growing man after all, it was totally normal for him to have such a high libido. His doctor even said so (he asked him during a typical yearly routine exam and the professional confirmed it was more than normal, that usually as he ages he’ll simply grow out of it). Jungkook doesn’t even believe him anymore. The more he fucks his hand, the more he grows the urge to stuff his cock in his step-sister’s tempting pussy.

He knows it’s disgusting. He tried to overcome the disgusting need to fuck her until she begged for more, the compulsive thirst to eat her juicy pussy from behind, the lustful desire to ruin her for anyone else that dared lay hands on his older step-sibling. Jungkook has had too much time to think about these sinful– incriminating thoughts. He imagines how his step-sister would look all heavy and round, carrying Jungkook’s seed for nine months straight. What amazing mother she would be. He thinks about this all the time. 

And he’s not just saying this out of his ass. His step-sister saved him. He had one-on-one, firsthand experience to all her angelic glory. She’s patient, extremely caring, and she’s the sweest thing he’s ever known. Jungkook is in love with her. 

Can anyone really blame him? His Noona is the best. He’ll say it over and over, a million times until the whole world gets to hear it because his Noona deserves that and much more. 

Jungkook believes he’s the only one that could please his Noona. He truly believes that there is no better man in this world for her than him. He doesn’t care how selfish that seems. His Noona has been hurt too many times and Jungkook has unfortunately witnessed it all. Every heartbreak, every break-up, every stupid relationship he has had to tolerate. He falls sick to his stomach every time because he knows she deserves so, so much more and only he could do that for her. He knows how happy he could make her.

After all, only Jungkook knows what is best for her.  

Jungkook hears the living room door close hard, the house shakes from the harsh movement. The noise startles him from his current position. He quickly wipes the come off his abdomen and the sweat off his body. He’s sure he probably stinks or at the very least his room does, but the heavy footsteps coming from the stairs worry him more. 

“Noona?” He calls out and nobody answers him, by the time he’s shoving on the first pair of sweats he can find his bedroom door opens wide. Jungkook still has sweat dripping down his bare back, praying that it goes unnoticed. He simply got carried away, fucking his cock into his hand for thirty minutes straight.

“Noona…” Jungkook reaches out the second he hears you whimper. The second he has you in his arms you completely let go. Tears stream down your face with no plans on stopping and Jungkook feels his heart break in two. In a way, he feels conflicted. 

On one hand, he’s extremely upset about whatever caused you any trouble and he’s willing to do anything to make it up to you. Buy you your favorite ice cream. Take you to watch a movie. Cook you a yummy home meal. He would do anything if it meant he could make you smile again. 

But on the other well, Jungkook’s fucking pissed. He needs to know exactly what happened, who fucking did this to you, and how the fuck he even let this happen. He’ll kill whoever did this to you. He will. Jungkook would do anything for his Noona, even if that meant killing someone with bare hands. 

“What’s wrong, Noona?” Jungkook’s gentle when asking the question, watching you cry your heart out. The younger rubs circles into your back, comforting you in a time of need. “What happened? Tell me. Jungkookie will help.” 

You sob into his chest hard and Jungkook can’t help the way his insides flare. He wants to burn the world down. That way, nobody can harm you and he can take care of you like he’s meant to. Jungkook was born to love and care for you. He feels that deep in his (dark) heart. 

“Oh, Jungkookie…” He keeps rubbing circles, desperate to make it all go away for you. His Noona didn’t deserve this. 

“I found the messages.” Between hiccups, you cry harder trying to explain the problem. It hurts. It hurts so bad, maybe you’ll never be good enough. For him, or for anyone.  

“What messages, Noona?” Jungkook’s nose bumps into yours, cautious doe-eyes stare down at you. Fire lights deep inside them, but they don’t scare you because Jungkook could never hurt a soul. Not your innocent little step-brother. Certainly not your sweet dongsaeng. 

“S-Seojun’s.” You have trouble breathing and Jungkook pats your back softly, being extremely patient, but deep inside him, he can’t wait to beat Seojun’s ass regardless of whatever you say next. “He— he cheated on me.” 

Jungkook no longer exists in the same universe you do. The first thing he sees is red. Jungkook’s going to fucking murder Seojun. How fucking dare he!

How could he ever cheat on you? Seojun must have a death wish and Jungkook can’t wait to deliver his wish personally. He should cut off each fin—

“Jungkookie… m-my heart hu—hurts.” He snaps out of the dark space in his head and starts drying your tears with his thumbs. 

“Noona… he— he doesn’t deserve you.” Jungkook starts, holding you up with a strong grip. He could feel your squishy breast pressing hard against his upper stomach. In a different moment, different situation, he would have popped a boner and it would have been extremely awkward. Jungkook is not small in any sense but he’s a bit insecure. He wonders if you would love the feel of his huge cock invading your guts, but that’s for another time. “I’ve told you this before but you deserve someone that doesn’t make you question their love for you. Someone that loves you so much it could kill them. They should love and care for you so much that they would be willing to do anything for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, Noona. He doesn’t deserve you. Nobody does. They can’t ever love you. They won't. You’re safe here Noona, I love you.” 

“My sweet Jungkookie…” You sigh as tears begin to slow down and stick to your face. “That’s right. Only you could ever love me this much I think. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Jungkook snaps. If anything Seojun should be crying buckets, begging for forgiveness and mercy because after Jungkook’s done with him, he’ll regret ever meeting you. Jungkook can’t wait to make the motherfucker pay for his unforgivable crimes. “He’s just a coward. Not a real man.”

“Oh my Jungkookie, when did you become so big? Huh? So grown up.” Your tone wavers as you continue. “You’ve always been such a romantic. Isn’t that right? Noona’s so proud of you Jungkookie, the best dongsaeng I could ever ask for.”

Jungkook melts with every compliment. 

When you first met Jungkook, he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He would get so fucking nervous around you. His stomach would flip whenever you stepped into his line of sight. He doesn’t remember a time he didn’t have the biggest crush. 

Like anyone else, Jungkook assumed this was nothing but a minor crush. It was his first crush. Jungkook didn’t have experience with girls or dating for that matter. He wasn’t at all interested in any of that. For a cool minute, the younger assumed he must be gay, clearly it was the only explanation that made sense at the time, but then he realized not even then he felt anything. His best friend, Taehyung is extremely gay and pretty handsome (if he must admit), but he could never be with him, much less fuck the man. 

His next thought is he has to be asexual. Jungkook didn’t ever think about sex, much less want to participate in any sexual activity. The thought used to disgust him. There was no one worthy. No one he would like to stick his dick into. Jungkook was broken! 

Then, his father came home one night, shit-faced couldn’t even hold himself up. Jungkook had to carry him to bed that night. He was only fifteen years old, he had no busy doing that, yet had no choice.

“Son. W-Wan you to meet someone tu—tomorrow.” His father begins, Jungkook winces when he reels him in close, breath stinking of some sort of strong alcohol. “Yu— got you a ma—mother. S-Stepmother.”

Jungkook’s heart drops. He doesn’t need a fucking mother. Jungkook is happy with the way things are right now. Just him and his dad. No matter how broken their relationship is. He doesn’t need a mother. 

“Appa, I don’t—”

“Quiet. Shh.” His father ends the conversation with a finger tap to his mouth. Forbidding the younger to get another word out. Jungkook feels he could sob because knowing his father, he was impending doom. “Sleep now child. Come here. Sleep with Appa.” 

That night, Jungkook unfortunately sleeps in his father’s bed which reeks of musk and cheap cologne with a hint of mixed perfume. He doesn’t sleep all night, worried that he’ll wake up and his father will have choked during his sleep. He’s afraid that if he turns his head, he’ll find his father dead. Maybe that would have been better. That his father never woke up that next morning. Then he wouldn’t be stuck in the situation he was in today. His father’s at fault. 

Jungkook’s father brings his “step-mom” over the next day and Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel. He hates her. He absolutely despises her. Jungkook feels it in his heart that she will completely ruin his life. 

Jungkook already has a mom. She died giving birth to him. It’s not her fault. Jungkook’s mom is incredible and he’s heard great stories. Nobody will ever compare to his mother. Even though Jungkook never got the chance to meet her, he knows he would have loved her and she him. In another lifetime, Jungkook would have loved to spend his entire life in the warm arms of his mother. 

What he wasn’t expecting was his step-mom to bring company. Jungkook obsesses from the very, very start. 

“Jungkook-ah, meet your step-sister, Y/N. She’s two-years older than you. They are moving in with us, so I hope you will be a good dongsaeng to your Noona. We’ll live as a happy family from now on. Ain’t that right, Yeobo?” His father leans in kissing his step-mom with passion. Jungkook thinks if the situation was different he would have thrown up the sandwich he had for lunch, but as he looks up at you, he finds you playing with the ends of your sweater. You’re tiny. He doesn’t believe you’re older than him. You can’t be. Barely seventeen, but you have yet to grow into your lady parts. Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at you. Your lip was swollen from how hard you were sucking it from nerves. This had to be just as difficult for you as well. 

With careful steps, you stretch your hand out, making peace with your new step-sibling. “Hello Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you. I promise to be a good Noona. I look forward to moving in. I hope you can accept me. I promise to take good care of you.” 

The younger almost falls to his knees. He’s never seen a more beautiful smile. Jungkook takes your tiny hand in his. His hand is bigger than yours, he’s tempted to compare sizes. He’s even slightly taller than you. Jungkook puffs his chest thinking about how he’ll only grow taller. He’ll soon tower over you. 

Jungkook doesn’t even say anything to you that night. Not a single word. He can’t. He shakes your hand awkwardly with a deep blush setting on his cheeks. Jungkook promises one thing. He promises to care for you too. That promise stays in his head for now, but Jungkook is certain now. He’s definitely not gay and he isn’t fucking asexual. Not anymore. Not ever.

Since then, it’s like you’ve been attached by the hip. Jungkook grew to become a man. Now twenty-three and you twenty-five. And you grew into a woman besides him. 

He was the best dongsaeng you could ever ask for. Jungkook was sweet. He would cry about everything and anything. While trying to get closer to one another and build a bond, you thought it would be a good idea to watch classic romance films. Jungkook would cry to every single one. A true romantic at heart and you, being the best Noona ever, would be there to comfort him. Like you would your own baby brother. 

Back then, you used to dream of having siblings, you’re extremely lucky you get to live that with Jungkook. You didn’t mind that he was a big cry-baby, it was endearing that a boy could have so many emotions and show them without holding back. 

He was extremely sweet. Jungkook was protective, like any usual brother was. Always looking for ways to watch out for you and even though he was the younger, he took care of you, a lot. 

Your mother wasn’t present much. And his father was much worse. They simply weren’t there. Not then, not now. But Jungkook was there. He was the shoulder you could cry on, the person you could run to, the only person you could fully depend on. Jungkook was always there. 

Jungkook was very kind-hearted, so innocent and pure. He was never the kind of guy to bring girls home. Talk about sex. You aren’t even sure if he’s ever had a girlfriend or even ever had sex for that matter. He even watches his mouth around you. He doesn’t cuss and he certainly doesn’t act out. He’s a very good boy, the best and kindest dongsaeng. 

“Thank you, Jungkookie.” You pull him closer, hands wrapping around his solid back, with a sniffle you question. “You— you’re hot?” 

Jungkook blanks, very confused. Were you realizing your love for him? Is this the way it will happen? Jungkook’s not sure he wants it this way. Not after he just helped you get over another man. He hopes this time for fucking good. He cannot bear hearing about Seojun and his stupid face ever again. 

“Do you have a fever, Jungkookie? You’re sweating!” You start to pat him all over, trying to measure his temperature with your hand. “Oh no my baby, let’s get you to bed!” 

Jungkook nearly awes. You went from having one of your worst days to completely being concerned about his well being. The younger beams in relief, he’s lucky his Noona is clueless. So fucking unaware. Doesn’t even realize the sheets are still filled with his filthy release. All thanks to her beauty.

“I’m okay Noona, you should head to bed. It’s been a long day.” The younger leans in for another hug, a thank you for being so kind. 

You keep insisting. “But you’re dripping! You have a fever, Jungkookie!”

Jungkook chuckles with you in his arms. “I worked out before you came home. I didn’t have time to shower. I don’t have a fever, everything’s okay. ” 

You fake a gag. “Yuck! Don’t even warn me either! Jungkookie, you’re an animal!” 

Oh, if only you knew. :)

Jungkook doesn’t allow you to slip from his arms, only holding on tighter.

“Scared of a little sweat, Noona?” The younger teases with a sly smirk. 

“When it's you, yes. Don’t want my dongsaeng’s sweat on me.” Jungkook tries to look past the “when it’s you” because what the hell does that mean? Would you like sweat if it came from someone else? Would you touch him if he was someone else? Would you lick it off if the situation was different? Jungkook swats all those thoughts away. He almost popped a boner and he doesn’t understand how that’s even possible after the day he’s had today. He is done for today, but his dick sadly has a mind of its own. 

“Whatever. Go sleep!” Jungkook unfortunately has to let go which is the worst part, but is surprised when you’re blushing against his still, very bare chest, your smaller hand resting on his abs. 

“Can… can you come sleep with me Jungkookie?” You get so shy Jungkook has to hold back from babying his own Noona. 

Like music to his fucking ears. Of course, he’ll sleep with you. He silently thanks Seojun for being a fucking dumbass. Jungkook’s about to pick up all the pieces he just broke earlier and never, ever give them back. 

“Don’t get all shy on me Noona, of course I will! What type of dongsaeng do you take me for?” Jungkook dramatically in offense holds his chest. 

“Only the best, my sweet Jungkookie, but go shower first. You reek.” The younger gasps, feigning offense. 

“No I don’t!” Jungkook is quick to defend himself, coming close so he could smell his pits. He’s probably smelled better, but he actually doesn’t smell, not that he knows of. If anything he’s surprised his room doesn’t reek of that crappy lotion he uses to get himself off. “See!”

The taller brings you in once more and you push him off hard. “Absolutely not you maniac! Go shower now!” 

“Fine!” Jungkook gives up and just as he’s about to retrieve the stuff he’ll need for his shower, he asks. “Your room or mine?” 

He silently prays you pick your own because he cannot stand the smell of his own room any longer. Plus you still have yet to notice the come on his sheets. Jungkook would be so embarrassed if you saw his soiled bed like this. His Noona deserves nothing but the best. A clean, comfortable environment. His room was probably a safety hazard right now and he wasn’t willing to risk the chance for conversation. 

“Mm, mine!” You decide with a pretty smile.

“Okay, Noona. I’ll be there in five. Don’t wait up for me.” With one last hug and a kiss at your temple, Jungkook goes off to shower and you retreat to your room. 

Yes, it was a bit strange. Sleeping with your grown step-sibling and all, but that’s the bond you and Jungkook had grown. The bond was so strong. You guys did just about everything together and by each other’s side. There was never anything super strange about that to you. 

Your friends once commented how it was just a bit weird. The strange relationship you carried with your step-sibling and that maybe you were just slightly a bit too close. That made them uncomfortable. 

Every time they would come over, Jungkook was just there. Jungkook always came first. They heard it too many times and saw it with their own eyes. When they finally decided to speak to you about it, you freaked saying it was nothing like that! Your relationship was nothing short of platonic, if anything. Jungkook was just your sweet little dongsaeng. Nothing more, nothing less. What was so strange about that? 

After that, your friends never brought it up ever again. There was no use. You would never see things in the way they would. It still made them uncomfortable from time-to-time, but Jungkook made you so happy so they kept to themselves for your sake. 

Jungkook rushes while in the shower. He scrapes his body clean and practically flies out the shower. Jungkook knows it’s useless right now, but he applies a bit of his costly cologne. Only because he knows you love it so much, you compliment him every time he wears it. Since then, he has bought at least eight more times because he doesn't go a day without wearing the damn scent. He knows you will likely be dead asleep by the time he gets to climb in bed, but he wants it to stick to his skin and last until tomorrow then you will cling and smell the cologne until your nostrils get used to it. 

With one last look into the mirror, Jungkook makes it to your room. The younger is obsessed with your room as much as he is with you. Your room smells, tastes, and looks just like you. 

Every time you aren’t home, Jungkook practically lives in your room. The amount of times he’s masturbated in this exact bed. Your sheets are incredibly soft, very pink and the best part is you leave your scent all over them. Jungkook smells and smells your honey-like scent until he grows desperate, then he’ll make a mess all over himself, being careful so he doesn’t leak into your sheets. However, sometimes he’ll catch himself leaking all over your stuffed animals. The younger doesn’t even feel bad about it, not one bit. He probably should, he’s disgusting and shameful. For now, Jungkook lives with himself and his rancid thoughts. 

When Jungkook gets to your room, he finds you already fast asleep, leaving the left side of your bed open for him. The younger salivates when he sees that your blanket isn’t covering your body, not at all. It’s almost like you’re inviting him, the whole world wants him to fail miserably and you clearly don’t care about his well-being. 

By now, Jungkook is used to the way you dress. It kills him inside whenever he watches you walk out the house, perky breasts and that fat juicy ass tempting every walking man alive the minute you step out that front door. When you’re off to bed, you wear these little boy shorts that drive him insane because they cover nothing. Your plump ass falls right out from the stretchy material and Jungkook desperately wishes he could touch and squeeze until his heart’s content, but he would never touch you without your consent. He’s not an animal!

“Kookie?” He hears you slur in your sleep, small grabby hands reaching for him. Jungkook immediately places himself in bed, letting you wrap around his broad, strong figure. Even in the dark, he can see your ass hanging from outside your shorts. You must have gotten hot while waiting for him given that your blanket was nearly kicked down to the floor. Jungkook doesn’t care to pick it up. 

And why would he? He’ll keep you warm now.

Jungkook falls asleep with ease that night. His nostrils breathing that sweet scent and your light calm exhales lull him straight to dreamland, where his dreams consist of a love so precious and extremely forbidden. 

The next morning, Jungkook wakes up before you, which wasn’t usual at all. He was used to finding you up and running bright and early, cooking him breakfast before leaving to work, like you usually did for him. 

Before he even gets to open his eyes, he feels something push up against his stiff morning wood. It’s almost like he feels something constantly rocking against him, little-by-little. Jungkook shoves his erection deeper into the pillow-like sensation, chasing the enticing— irresistible feeling. 

Jungkook’s hips start moving on their own accord, pushing and thrusting into the soft feeling of clouds. His morning wood grows tenfold when he hears a quiet whimper. He only drives his cock faster and further into that unknown realm, searching for heavenly release. Cock heavy and aching inside his briefs. 

The younger almost jumps out of the bed when he hears the prettiest moan. He’s heard this delightful sound before. Only his Noona has the sweetest of sounds. He hates to admit it, but he’s heard these same moans before. And they didn’t come from his own doing, but Seojun’s. There were nights Jungkook couldn’t catch a wink of sleep because he overheard his step-sister getting fucked for hours on end. 

…

“Fuck. Oh my god. Don’t stop.” He would throw his pillow over his head and squeeze, praying the fucking ended soon which it probably did because Seojun was disappointing as fuck. Pathetic fucking punk. He prayed for that or that he suffocated himself to death, either was fine for him. As long as his suffering was put to an end. 

You sounded fucking perfect though. Jungkook could admit that easily. His Noona sure had a filthy mouth on her. Jungkook wanted to plug it with his fat cock. He wishes it was him instead and maybe one day it will. For now, he’ll continue dreaming. 

“Yeah? Like that?” Seojun would grunt while Jungkook rolled his eyes until they would hit the back of his head. He couldn’t do this anymore. Jungkook knows it’s as easy as bringing it up, but how could he look at his perfect step-sister and say that to her! He simply refuses. 

“Yes, like that. Yes please. Fuck, fuck, fuck— nghh!” And Jungkook was truly the worst. He could only hold himself back so much! 

Jungkook rips the drawer open in his room, feeling around for lube, lotion fucking anything that will get his dick wet and when he finally finds it, he squirts a considerable amount and starts fisting his slicken cock. He grows thicker in his own hand. Jungkook wonders how his cock would look if it were your hand instead. He moans just imagining the idea.

“Coming.” Seojun’s muffled groans also echoed in his room. He doesn’t know how you do it and to be frank, he wishes Seojun would just shut the fuck up and do his job. The younger smirks knowing he’s struggling, leaving you in disappointment. He’s positive he’s never had his dick wet for more than ten minutes. What a bum! Can’t even please his girl. 

Jungkook hears your moans grow louder. He swears he can hear them ringing in his fucking ears. Like you purposely wanna get caught. Jungkook gets too much into his head because he starts growing desperate, nearly coming all over himself. 

If the situation was different, Jungkook knows he wouldn’t stop fucking you until you were passed out. It was only fair. You needed a real man, someone who could satisfy you without question. He knows he could do it. Fuck being experienced. Why does someone need all this experience if Seojun is proving that even by being a manwhore that doesn’t guarantee you a happy sex life or jackshit. 

Point is, Seojun sucks and Jungkook will imagine it’s him instead of that lame fucker. He’ll imagine it’s him that’s making you feel all those things, that’s making you scream into the pillow. Though if it had really been him, Jungkook would snatch that pillow away from your mouth. He would want to hear every single sound that comes from your pouty mouth. Fuck, Jungkook couldn’t wait for you to be his and only his. 

That night, Jungkook came all over his hand, some landing on his face. He wishes you were there to lick it clean.

… 

Even in his fucking dreams, Jungkook feels like he can’t catch a fucking break. 

His hips still, he doesn’t wanna further embarrass himself by humping into his step-sister’s ass like some horny desperate teenager. Jungkook knew this was a terrible idea, especially considering that he’s had the hardest time keeping his dirty— filth of thoughts to himself. Jungkook didn’t know how much longer he could live without knowing the taste of that perfect little pussy. How snuggly you would fit around his huge cock. He knows you could take him so well, you were made for him after all. 

“S okay Jungkookie, ‘s normal. Noona isn’t mad.” The younger pretends to be asleep while he hears you babble in sleep, but you know he isn’t and to save his dignity (and yours) you allow it. Jungkook can’t help, but to think maybe you wanted it too. Was that crazy? 

You both fall back to sleep. This time Jungkook gives you a respectful distance so he doesn’t commit the same mistake as before and when he wakes up, you act as if nothing happened and Jungkook appreciates that. He had the absolute best Noona, always looking out for her dongsaeng, no matter the situation. 

As the days pass, you and Jungkook spend a lot of time together. Maybe it’s because you are single again or maybe it’s because you just wanna spend time with your (not so) little step-brother. 

Jungkook’s the happiest. He no longer has to listen to you talk about Seojun and he gets to spend all the time in the world with you. For some time, he believes things are perfect. 

Every night, you fall asleep on his chest. Waking up in his arms and Jungkook falls in love harder. Sometimes he steals kisses while you are sleeping. You wouldn’t mind, right? 

He kisses your chubby cheeks, kisses your cute button nose, he’ll even kiss your smaller fingers, one-by-one. He has yet to taste those plump lips, but he doesn’t doubt they don't taste of flowers and honey. 

“Jungkookie, you think you could fetch me my shoes? I left them near the closet door.” The younger hears you call out to him and being the good step-brother he was, he snatches your shoes up and starts walking away. It seems you forgot something else because Jungkook snaps his eyes to your phone, which starts buzzing with notifications. 

Jungkook knew your password of course, you didn’t hide anything from your baby step-brother and he knows it would be wrong to invade your privacy, but he simply wants to see who it is. There’s absolutely no harm in that! 

The taller snatches up your phone, disconnecting it from the charger and he sees red for a minute. 

Three missed texts and two missed calls, in bold texts your phone reads, Seojun❤️.

He immediately smashes in your passcode without hesitation and any permission. What he finds is absolutely disgusting. Jungkook feels sick. 

Seojun❤️: i miss you baby :(  been thinking of that pussy can’t wait to stuff you full soon

Jungkook goes back to the messages from before, his ears are hot. He doesn’t know whether to scream or cry his eyes out. 

Seojun❤️: coming over

Asshole doesn’t even ask for permission, just does what he feels is right and that only riles Jungkook further. 

Me: don’t can't tonight jungkook's home

Good girl, good Noona. He knew he could trust you, if only this asshole understood that you didn’t need anyone else and left you alone. Jungkook took care of you just fine. Just you and him. Always.

Seojun❤️: that never stopped us before? 

Me: jun, please. not tonight.

Seojun❤️: so when?  you guys are close again or what?  you know how i feel about that guy. 

Jungkook’s burning inside. He knows how you feel about him? The fuck was his problem. Jungkook’s tempted to smash your fucking phone in pieces. He’ll buy you a new one and it certainly won’t have this asshole’s number. 

Me: he’s not just some guy. he’s my younger brother. of course we are close.  soon. i’ll come see you soon. 

Seojun❤️: step. step-brother. 

Me: what does that have to do with anything jun?  he’s like a little brother to me. 

Seojun❤️: can he say the same? 

What. The. Fuck. 

Jungkook was gonna kill this stupid fuck. 

Me: don’t talk about him that way.  talk to you later. 

Seojun❤️: whatever. 

Then Jungkook rereads the messages over and over again. He’s fucking fuming. The younger hears the door before he hears you coming. 

“Jungkook.” Your voice drowns in his ears. He snaps a mean gaze towards you, your phone is in his hands and he’s shaking. “Oh Jungkookie… I can explain.” 

Jungkook throws your phone, landing hard against your bed, it bounces and falls to the floor. You jump in fear, your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. 

“Don’t. I’ve seen it all.” Your step-brother’s voice trembles. His voice is cold and rough around the edges. “How fucking could you Noona?” 

You gasp at the sudden use of cuss words. Jungkook doesn’t cuss, not in front of you, not ever. He was a good boy, a very good boy. 

“Jungkook, listen—” 

“Shut up!” Jungkook snaps harshly. Those doe-eyes turn violent. “How could you!” 

“H-He— we were just testing the waters.” You explain with a pout, your tears already threaten to fall. Jungkook isn’t a yeller. He never loses his patience, no matter how upset he could be, but you’ve officially cracked him. 

“Testing the waters?” Jungkook ridicules with a dry laugh, eyes rolling. He couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Y-Yes.” 

“You’re back with him.” The younger one says as if it’s a statement. His tone is sharp, dripping of disbelief and hatred. Jungkook scoffs. “I can’t fucking believe you, after everything!”

“Puh— please stop yelling at me.” Jungkook’s eyes soften for a little when he hears your voice shake and eyes dampen with tears. 

His voice is still rough as he continues to spew the fire. “You really think he could keep you happy? That he could satisfy you? When will you finally see it, Noona? He’s fucking pathetic. Loser excuse of a man.” 

Your pout grows bigger and you start crying softly, embarrassed that the scolding is coming from someone younger, coming from the one person that should be learning from you. Shamefully, you can’t even look him in the eyes, you avoid his sharp gaze and continue crying pretty tears. 

Jungkook keeps spitting his words at you and you can’t bear them much longer. “You really think he will ever know what is best for you? That he could provide for you? I bet he—”

“And you do?!” You yell between your blur of tears, feeling like shit. 

“I do! I fucking do. Everything I do is for you, for us Noona. I’m here working my ass off to rebuild you and you let him break you over and over! Aren’t you sick of him? Sick of this? Because I am. I fucking am. I hate him and I hate that you let him come between us!” The taller uses his height to his advantage, towering over you while he spews his truth. 

“For me? For us?” You speak in disbelief, scoffing and wiping off your tears roughly with your long sleeve. “Jungkook, you speak like we are together! This isn’t normal. The way you care for me, it— it isn’t normal. You should be getting lost in the lights at your age, dating around. I’ve never seen you even speak to another girl besides me! It’s strange! Plus, Seojun… he’s truly the only one that cares for me. Besides you.” 

Jungkook explodes. The taller tugs you towards him, a strong hand on your throat while he squeezes mercilessly. You immediately wrap your hands around his wrists, trying to shove him off, but Jungkook’s much taller, much stronger than you are. It’s no use, the more you pull, the more he tightens his hold. You struggle to breathe, hiccuping dry tears. 

“I really tried to do this your way Noona. I tried to be patient and do this at your pace, but you’re fucking clueless. I love you. Don’t you see it? Of course I care. I’ve always cared. I’ve loved you since the very first day. I tried to overcome these emotions but the more I denied them, the stronger they became. I let them consume me. I’ve never been more at peace, but I can’t stand here and watch you ruin yourself any longer. I can’t. You and Seojun are done. Do you understand?” Jungkook’s hand is still on your throat and you just nod desperately, hoping that he lets go some time soon. 

You should have known, should have seen it coming. People warned you, at least, they tried. You wouldn’t listen and refused to believe it (or see it). Jungkook wasn’t a bad person, he still isn’t. He’s just confused and young. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s not in love it’s just fascination, yeah, you’ll say that for now because it makes you feel better. Not because you definitely feel something splur in your own (tainted) heart. 

“Good baby, good. I never wanna see, hear, or know anything about that stupid fuck ever again.” Jungkook loosens his grip a bit and you immediately take a gush of breath. “He’s not good for you. Never will be. You deserve so much more Noona, isn’t that right?” 

Between a few tears, you keep nodding. 

“Yeah, only Daddy knows what’s best for you. Right?” The younger one doesn't even blink when saying the words. For a second, you think about who he is referring to as daddy, but then you realize. This was so fucking wrong, and yet you feel yourself slipping already. Maybe he was right. What’s the point of denying it? “Only I could ever love you the way you deserve to be loved. Uh baby?”

You nod with a muffle cry. 

“Speak.” Jungkook orders. “Tell Daddy that he’s right. Let me hear it.” 

“Y-Yes Daddy.” He hears you sweetly comply and even through a blur of tears, you see him smiling down at you. 

“Good, good girl. Now, give Daddy a kiss baby.” Jungkook leans down and you hesitantly meet him halfway. The kiss is very sweet considering the pressing situation. Jungkook curls his lips around yours like there’s nothing off or wrong about this situation. He doesn’t seem to mind this at all, like he’s been dying to get to do this with you. You don’t know whether to be happy about that idea or fall sick to your stomach. Either way, you continue to kiss him. 

The taller pries your mouth open with his tongue and you allow him access, pouty lips slack. Jungkook sucks and licks into your mouth, greedily tasting the juices on your tongue. His tongue clashes with your messily, spit mixing in the process. It's dirty and filthy. And it is extremely wrong. 

You feel so guilty because you’re the older one of the two. You should be the one putting a stop to this, but the more his tongue explores your mouth, the more you dip into the dark— alluring abyss.

“Been dying to do that.” Jungkook breathes into your lips savoring the taste of your salty tears and cherry chapstick in his mouth. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited.” 

You whimper quietly and the younger soothes you in his arms. “W-We shouldn’t, Jungkook, not yu—you.”

His smile wavers for a second. “Don’t be scared, Noona. Who else other than me huh? Who can love you like I love you?” 

You close your sad eyes to imagine what would have happened if you just came to grab your shoes yourself, wishing you had done that instead. You would have seen your phone and picked up the call instead. This was so wrong. With a deep sigh, you let the darkness consume you too. 

“I love you, Noona.” Jungkook whispers, his eyes awfully speaking the truth. 

“I-I love you too.” The taller smiles and kisses you once again, this time you don’t even fight it. You don’t hesitate. You take time to enjoy the feel of his lips moving passionately against yours and let yourself be loved. For once, you feel loved and that’s enough for you.

Jungkook takes your cheeks in his calloused hands and starts kissing everywhere. Leaving his trace all over your face. He kisses your nose, your forehead, your lips again. Jungkook brings his nose across your jaw, leaving little pecks here and there. When he reaches your neck, he starts licking and sucking every inch of sensitive skin, hoping to leave his marks behind.

The younger is satisfied when he sees the dark spots he’s left to beautifully decorate your skin. 

“Open.” He taps two fingers against your mouth, wrapping his other hand around your neck and you slightly slack your jaw on command. Jungkook shoves those two fingers into your mouth, pushing them down against your wet compliant tongue. He watches you struggle to take them further, gagging a few times around his sloppy fingers. Jungkook was right, you look so fucking good when something is fucking your mouth. “So good for Daddy.” 

Whining against his fingers, Jungkook pulls them out. Cock already feeling tight and heavy inside his pants. He couldn’t wait to get out of these and you weren’t doing any better. You could feel slick start to dampen your panties.

“So pretty, Noona. The prettiest.” Jungkook starts to kiss you again. It starts off a bit slow, but there’s hunger in the way he looks at you. He’s waited so long for this moment, he doesn’t wanna hold back any longer. The younger wants to let it all go tonight. It’s only right. There’s no more hiding, no more secrets. Jungkook was gonna claim what was so rightfully his. 

“J-Jungkookie, maybe we should–” The taller licks into your mouth before you can continue and you grow really desperate, feet shuffling from nerves. You need to stop this before it gets any further, before it gets to the point of no return. “Wuh-we should s-stop.”

Jungkook ignores you. He sucks and bites your bottom lip into his mouth and you’re starting to lose sense of everything so quickly. Suddenly, Jungkook’s hand is at your throat again, but he doesn’t squeeze it. He just holds it, kisses around your face with gentle movements. “You have the nerve for sure Noona, don’t you think you owe me an apology. Huh baby?”

“I– I’m sorry.” Jungkook would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on the way you quickly adapted and complied. 

He shakes his head, squishing your cute cheeks together, tempted to kiss them both and he does after he’s done speaking. “That simply won’t do. Think that’s enough for everything you’ve done to Daddy? For all the hurt you caused? Get on your knees baby.” 

And what else can you do, but drop on your fragile knees. The second your knees hit the hard, cold floor, you whimper in pain. 

“Hurts? Here, my love.” Jungkook awes with empathic doe-eyes, without hesitation he reaches for one of your softest pillows and places it down below your knees, helping you onto the comfortable cushion. “Better?” 

It is shocking and not at the same time, how quickly Jungkook seems to be okay and fine with this whole thing. If it’s true that he’s been dying to do this for years then in a fucked up way, it kinda makes sense, but it doesn’t change the fact that you guys are family, on paper and in every way that it matters. Your parents are married for fuck’s sake. 

“Yes.” You simply respond and Jungkook smiles contentedly. 

“Yes what?” He asks, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You hesitate, but end up giving in. Does it even really matter anymore? The deed had been done. You fucked yourself over the second you let him take control of the situation. Jungkook owns you. “Yes Daddy.”

Jungkook towers over you, thick muscular thighs stand tall before you. He hums satisfied with your response. “Open up wide for Daddy.”

The taller has quick hands on his belt, snatching it off himself. Then he pulls his jeans down and tosses them aside without care. He keeps his briefs on for now. Jungkook needs to have you work for it, just a bit. It’s his right after all. 

“Pull my dick out.” He rasply orders and you gulp at the sight. He’s packing, you can’t even see it yet, but you are sure the real thing is not much different. Your hands shake as they come up to the waistband of his boxers. You’re about to see your baby step-brother’s cock and you don’t even seem bothered enough to care. 

Carefully, you pull them down slowly, revealing inch-by-inch. The tip of his dick pops out first, his slit already dripping pre-come. You practically salviate, gums aching to feel the weight of it on your tongue. Jungkook swears he might fucking burst all over your face before he even gets to stick it in. Though he hates Seojun’s guts, he kinda gets it now. Your soft touch on his sensitive girth nearly makes him shiver. 

To be fair, it is Jungkook’s first time! He’s never, ever done this before. He saved himself for the only person that deserved to have him. It was easy for him actually. There was not a damn person that made or could ever make him question his choice. He knew from the very beginning, it was you or no one else. 

Jungkook would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit terrified. He doesn’t wanna ruin this whole thing, he’s seen plenty of videos online, mainly through Twitter courtesy of Taehyung. Jungkook is extremely grateful. Seriously, he doesn’t know what he would have done without him. He doesn’t trust much people, but when he confessed at his grown age of twenty-two that he was still a virgin during a night of mixed drinks, Taehyung simply brushed it off and told him there was nothing wrong about that! 

Taehyung understood him to some degree. Sex is an intimate experience and you should only ever share it with the people who you truly love, but he was a manslut, through-and-through, so he couldn’t comprehend how Jungkook has lived so long without it. Major respect and props to him, but Taehyung could fucking never. 

Either way, Taehyung would send clips here and there as pointers to what some people could possibly like and enjoy during sex. Jungkook took plenty of mental notes, he was beyond ready. He shouldn’t be this nervous, but now that he has you right where he wants you, he’s shaking inside. He doesn’t know how sex workers do this on the regular. 

Finally, his dick is out, the whole nine-inch monster and you don’t even have the ability to face him anymore. His cock weighs heavy on your smaller hand. It’s the perfect fit, Jungkook thinks. 

With a shallow swallow, Jungkook tugs your head toward it. His tip leaks a bit and Jungkook hopes you don’t notice that he has no clue what he’s doing. After watching porn for so long, he can only hope that everything he’s doing so far is pleasurable for you both. 

“Lick it.” He says, voice rough and you do as told. 

Cautiously, your pink tongue slips out and experimentally starts licking. The second your moist tongue is on his cock, Jungkook’s guttural moan escapes his throat. 

This was gonna be much harder than he thought, but Jungkook’s been practicing. Jungkook is determined to last longer than any other fuck you’ve ever had. He’s determined to be the best and show you exactly what you’ve been missing, wasting all that time on stupid fucks that could never please and love you the way he could. 

“Open wider baby, yeah just like that.” Along with the tip of his cock, Jungkook shoves his thumb inside. Your mouth is so wet and warm, taking him exactly how he imagined you would. The younger wonders how much more you could take. 

“Gonna fuck your mouth now.” With one last warning, Jungkook plants his feet firmly and thrusts himself deep, causing you to gag so prettily around him when the tip hits the back of your throat. 

Clearly, you aren’t used to taking so much cock at once, Jungkook supposes he could go easier on you. But do you really deserve that from him? 

Jungkook doesn’t think so. 

So he fucks into your mouth harder and faster, his thumbs cleaning the tears that run down your face. Jungkook doesn’t hold back any sounds, he moans roughly when you suck a bit harder on it like you want it to hurt him. Good thing Jungkook likes the pain. It’s why he tatted himself so many times. Jungkook embraces everything, even punishing pain. 

“Easy with your teeth baby, don’t wanna hurt Daddy, do we?” The younger is a bit taken back when he sees you nod furiously, mouth full of cock, struggling while taking him deeper. God, you truly do look the best this way. “Oh? How will Daddy fuck you then silly?” 

You whine muffles with his girth down your throat, secretly rolling your hips on the pillow, rubbing friction against your clothed sex. 

“Huh? What’d you say?” Jungkook teases as he continues to brutally fuck your sloppy mouth, spit leaking down your chin. “I can’t understand you. Sorry!”

But he’s not sorry, not one bit! He practically eats you alive with his eyes, feeling the heat start to form in his stomach. Jungkook’s ready to come. 

He forces you to deepthroat him with a ruthless thrust, pushing your head down on his length, as far as you could go. Jungkook doesn’t dare let go until your eyes water beyond control and he doesn’t hear you breathe through your nose. When he releases the tight grip on your head, you are desperately breathing heavily, coughing spit.

“Puh—Please.” Your voice breaks. Jungkook looks down and almost feels bad, you look a mess. Pretty little mess. “N-No more.” 

He considers it, but he won’t let you go that easy. “Make me come, then you can beg for mercy after.”

Even after all this, Jungkook’s words surprise you. How? How was it fucking possible? For so long, you believed Jungkook was a certain person, a kind-hearted, romantic sweetheart. In a way, he still is. Jungkook truly believes that this was meant for him. That his whole purpose was to be yours. He never showed this side of himself ever and maybe that’s why it terrifies you. How much is he capable of and how much are you willing to give up for him? 

Jungkook throws his head back and moans loudly when you start sucking with purpose, your intentions set clear. He’ll come within seconds if you continue like this. 

You don’t let up. If he wants to come, he will. You suck down hard, taking his cock as far as your throat allows. There’s no need to lie, Jungkook tastes and even smells amazing down there. You’ve always known he’s been a clean freak, but he really does take care of himself well. 

Gargling him down, Jungkook starts to whine and slow down his pace, but you continue your menacing behavior, sucking him off the way you imagined he would like it. And Jungkook starts seeing stars. He knows that after this, he’ll never want to not do this. This was much, much better than fisting his own cock. You’ve completely ruined him. 

“I— I’m gonna come.” Jungkook says and almost immediately comes, bursting his release inside your mouth. “Swallow it.” 

There’s no doubt that you won’t. You continue sucking until he’s completely empty and swallow him down. 

Jungkook’s eyes are unrecognizable. Not that he looks any different besides his fucked out state, but they are so sharp and dangerously sexy. “Show me.” 

You stick your tongue out as far as you can and show him how nicely you’ve cleaned up after him, Jungkook could come again. 

Once he’s satisfied, his rough voice booms. “Come here.” 

You stand on two feet, your cunt is surely dripping because you feel your panties sticking to your folds. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to take you back in his mouth, not bothered one bit about the fact that you just swallowed his semen. He licks into your mouth like he’s famished, tasting himself on your tongue. Jungkook doesn’t know how he will survive without this now. 

“Lie down. On your stomach.” Even though you’ve pretty much gone as far as you can with this, you still hesitate. Maybe it's your guilt or maybe it’s because you are liking this much more than you should, that you still comply even when you shouldn’t. 

Your pillow gets left and forgotten where it currently sits and you lay down, stomach pressing into the mattress. Jungkook pats your head and you nearly purr. 

“Lift yourself up baby.” Jungkook’s so fucking hard still, he doesn’t get how this is possible. Staring at your perfect petite figure, he starts to get it. “Gonna take these off now.” 

Jungkook slowly tugs on your shorts and you shake your head, stopping him once again, your hand flies to his wrist.  “N-No.”

“Don’t make me tie your hands Noona, be good for me pretty.” And once again, Jungkook wins. You don’t see yourself winning any time soon. “Gonna undress you now, keep those precious hands away from me for now.” 

Repeating his actions from earlier, Jungkook pulls down your shorts and your ass falls right from out the lousy material. 

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses, taking in the view as you whimper softly. Your ass is even better, almost bare, your fat pussy peeks through your thin panties. He runs his finger along where your slit should be, feeling your slick dampen his fingertip over the fabric, moaning quietly. The large wet spot on your soiled panties, told him all he needed to know, you wanted this just as much as he did. 

With his index finger, he curls his finger along your waistband and brings your panties off as well and the sight doesn’t disappoint. Jungkook licks his dry lips and starts to get to work. 

The younger spreads your folds into a “V” and sticks his nose so far into your glistening cunt without warning. Jungkook starts to eat you out like never before and you crumble, moaning and squealing against the feeling of his perfect lips munching on your dripping pussy. 

The taller doesn’t let you get any further, heavy-hand on your hip while he keeps you in place. He slurps your sweet slick into his mouth, swallowing down every drop greedily without any fucking plans on stopping soon. Jungkook has found his purpose.

Jungkook was made to eat your fat juicy pussy. There wasn’t anything better than this. Not even the blowjob felt as good as this is making him feel. Jungkook knows that it has nothing to do with your skills or anything of the sort, but because he loves the way you push and pull away from him. The more you run, the more he feels like chasing. He’s addicted to the strangled sounds that escape your lips, crying out loudly against your will. It was perfect! 

You squeal when you feel him suckle on your sensitive bud, playing with it between his teeth. He’s almost tempted to bite, but he’s hurt his baby enough. “S good Noona, tastes like candy.” 

His words vibrate inside your cunt and you already feel your climax coming in heavy. He was gonna drive you insane! 

“Please… oh my god. Please. I can’t.” You swear you feel Jungkook smiling even as he’s eating you out, nose deep inside your cute little cunt. Guess that answers his question, you are definitely enjoying yourself way more than you should. 

“You can baby, you fucking will.” He nearly growls into your folds, licking and eating everything he could swallow like a madman. Jungkook didn’t wanna stop until you had nothing more to give, until your pussy stopped oozing out that sweet essence. But it seems the more he licks, the more that squirts out! 

Jungkook doesn’t mind though, not at all, not even one bit. He’ll eat your pussy until it kills him. 

“Ohhhh, nhmmm fuck. I- Daddy, I’m cominggg.” He hears your fucked out slur and sucks harder on your clit, lapping at all the juices that kept drizzling down. He’s surprised to hear you call him Daddy, he didn’t ask you to, but you were so good for him either way. Jungkook didn’t need to ask anymore, you were so far gone to care about anything else when his tongue kept slipping inside your messy hole. 

“Come on my tongue baby. Come for Daddy.” With a strangled cry you come and Jungkook feels the second you explode, because your pussy almost flushes out everything it can give him. He sucks it all up though and doesn’t stop until he feels you trembling under his touch, barely holding up. “Good, so good for me baby. God, I love you.” 

Jungkook tosses his shirt aside because he’s grown super hot and looks down at your fucked out figure. All he did was eat pussy, imagine what else he could do with that humongous monster cock he drags around. 

He didn’t fail to notice how pretty your tiny hole was from behind, both of them. Jungkook wanted to eat your ass too, but maybe that was for another time, when he gets the pleasure to focus on one at a time. 

“Turn around for me baby.” The younger one softly speaks. 

There’s a bit of a struggle, but you land on your back successfully and whine when you see his bare figure. Jungkook’s worked his ass off to get it. He’s so strong and shredded, but nonetheless, the sight of his sculpted body makes you drool nearly every time. 

“Gonna put it in now.” The way he says it throws you off, he seems a bit embarrassed, shy maybe? And it doesn’t make sense because not even seconds ago, the younger was so confident about every little thing he was doing to you, ruining you entirely for anyone else. 

“W-Wait.” You rush, pushing your hand against his chest. Jungkook freezes in place, his hand already wrapped around his cock. “Condom?” 

And like that, he snaps again, those once innocent doe-eyes turn dark again and you regret even reminding him. “We won’t be needing that silly Noona, I’m gonna fuck a baby into you and you’re gonna be the perfect Mommy. Won’t you?” 

You wanna shake your head so bad, your mind is screaming at you to say no, to fucking stop him before it’s too fucking late, but your body speaks for you. Your pussy keeps leaking your arousal and you can’t believe your reality. You want it so bad, you don’t really care what comes with the consequences of your actions. If your step-brother wants a baby, well then… 

“Isn’t that right Noona? You’ll be the perfect Mommy.” Jungkook’s voice sounds sinister and you can barely recognize the person he is. “Daddy will take care of you both. Don’t you want that? Huh my love?” 

With sick, deranged thoughts in your head, you slowly nod in agreement and Jungkook scrunches his nose into a sweet, kind smile. “Of course you do. You're the best Noona. Gonna fuck you now okay?” 

You nod again. This time, you pry your legs open for him. Letting him use you the way he wants and needs. Jungkook licks his lips and takes his heavy cock in hand. Before he lines it up, he spits perfectly along his length, coating his dick all around so it could slide in without further complications and then he pushes the tip inside. 

The minute you feel the intrusion, just the fucking tip, you gasp loudly, trembling into his surprisingly gentle touch. 

“C-Can’t. Won’t fu—fit.” You say breaking between whimpers.

Jungkook’s gaze is dark and heavy on you and he gets right into your face when he whispers the next words. “Oh but you will. You already did.” 

Just as you are about to question him, in one powerful blow, Jungkook thrusts himself all the way inside your tight velvety-walls and you run away from his hold. 

And like always, there’s no point. Before you realize it, Jungkook’s pulling out and ramming back inside you. Doesn’t even seem bothered by the painful whines coming from your lips, his eyes are too focused on the way his cock disappears into your perfect pussy. 

There was no better way to lose his virginity, Jungkook thought. This was exactly what he’s been fucking missing all his life. 

The pain simmers eventually and it starts to feel overwhelmingly good. Your pained whimpers turn into high-pitched cries and Jungkook sticks his face into your neck, moaning roughly against your ear while he continues to work his way into your walls. 

Jungkook will never, absolutely never, go back to his fists. The heat, natural slick, and tightness. His fists don’t even come close. 

Skin is clapping on skin, brutally setting a rapid pace. His dick is so sensitive right now, he’s surprised he’s even lasted this long. Jungkook doesn’t even know how fucking long it’s been. Or if your guy's parents will come home soon. He doesn’t even give a fuck. You are his. 

His to fuck. His to play with. And his to love. 

“Gonna come so deep inside this pussy. Gonna make sure you end up swollen and pregnant once I’m done with you. Noona’s so tight.” He breathes heavily into your neck, sweat dripping from the younger. 

His words start to rile you up for some reason. Do you even get a fucking choice? The dicking is almost that good you let yourself fall for a few seconds, allowing Jungkook to fuck into you like some fuck-doll. 

Without thinking, you reach for his fluff of sweaty hair and tug. Hard. When he comes up to question you, you slap him so hard that his face snaps towards that direction. 

Jungkook’s merciless pounding stills. 

For a moment, all you hear is heavy breathing, yours mixed with his. It takes Jungkook a while to look back at you and when you do dare look into his eyes, all you see is dark, dark lust. Lots of it. 

Jungkook pulls you in roughly from your throat for a bruising wet kiss. His cock slips from inside you and you whine into his mouth at the loss. You already want him back inside, you took it for granted. 

The taller chuckles dryly, almost too sexy for his own good when he catches you grinding your folds desperately against his wet length.  “Baby already misses Daddy’s dick. This is how it’s gonna be huh? Okay. I’ll play by your rules baby, don’t fucking say I didn’t warn you.”

You don’t even get the chance to catch your breath when you are already pressed face down into the mattress. Jungkook parts your fat ass, slides his cock between them and teases your sweet little hole menacingly. 

Jungkook slaps his cock down a few times, the whole nine inches, right onto your dripping folds. They practically were screaming for attention and not to worry, Daddy was home. Slick would stick to his cock, maybe he should make you lick him clean. 

“Why?” The younger one hears you crying softly. 

“We’ve been over this Noona, only I’ll ever love you how you deserve to be loved. Stop worrying so much. Want you to come on Daddy’s cock. We’ll talk after m’kay?” Jungkook reasons and stabilizes the situation like if you have any choice in this and as if this wasn’t absolutely sick. “Let me take care of you Noona.” 

The choice was made before you even realized it. 

“Okay… but don’t— don’t come inside Jungkook. I’m not on birth control.” Seojun would always make use of a condom, you forgoing those hormonal-consuming pills. You don’t get to see this, but the younger one smiles wide like if you just gave him the green light. What you don’t know doesn’t harm you. One day, Jungkook thinks. 

“Okay Noona, whatever you say.” Jungkook spits on his cock one last time before he carefully pushes back inside. The prodding feeling still leaves you in between sharp gasps and painful whines, ripping right through you. 

“Oh my god… Jungkook- too big.” You grab your closest pillow nearly tearing through the thin fabric, using it to have something to tug and bite on. 

“Yeahhh, but Noona takes it so well.” Jungkook moans when he feels you squeeze hard around him, basically watching your asshole wink at him too. “Fuck baby, maybe I should fuck this tiny hole too.” 

You whimper when you feel his thumb brushing against the fluttering muscle, back arching into the frail sensation. “Mff—no please, I’ve n-never done it. Please.”

“Okay. Not today baby.” Not today or ever again you hope. You pray that whatever is happening today starts and ends today, but for now, you settle for that answer. 

But the second Jungkook’s thumb leaves your delicate asshole, he grips onto the fat of your ass cheeks and starts mounting you from behind like an animal. The stretch still burns, not used to taking so much at once, but he can tell when it starts feeling equally as good for you because you squirm on his cock like a worm. He watches you pull away from him, but he’s gripping you hard, feeling that ass bounce back on him. Jungkook curses when he hears you start moaning into your pillows. 

“Nu-uh, wanna hear it.” He pulls you by your throat, your back flushing against his sweaty rising chest. In this position, he’s reaching deeper inside your cunt, g-spot being constantly abused. 

“Fuck-k-k, oh fuck —nghh.” Jungkook practically soaks in every noise that comes from your mouth, hips clapping hard into your ass. He takes the time to enjoy this, squeezing the fat that jiggles. Maybe he’ll convince you next time to let him fuck your tight ass. After all, he knows Noona could never say no to her sweetest dongsaeng.

The younger sucks more hickeys onto your skin, anywhere that he can really. Jungkook sucks one on the side of your neck, shoulder, and your back. He’s obsessed. Tomorrow he shall do the exact same thing, he’ll keep you on his cock forever now that he knows what it is like. Taehyung was so right. Sex was amazing. 

“Let me hear you Noona, think I’ll come just like this.” Jungkook moans roughly in your ear as he continues to pump your walls full of cock, pussy dripping buckets around his length. 

You let out moans like water, feeling his dick destroy your insides, he must have rearranged your guts by now. “Think—think m’ gonna come Daddy.” 

Jungkook smirks, grabbing your chin roughly and kisses you sloppily, including tongue and all. He loves the sound of his name and title from your pouty, gasping mouth. “Fucked you so good baby doesn’t know if she’s coming or not. Daddy’s the best, isn’t he?”

“Ye–yeah Daddy.” You slur in a trippy haze and just like that, you’re dropped into the sheets again, and flipped with ease in his hold. Jungkook’s dick surprisingly doesn’t even slip out and you don’t know if you moaned again because of the feeling of his dick impaling your pelvic walls or because he can toss you around like some rag doll and have his way with you. Daddy’s the strongest. 

Either way your moans are like sin, high pitched whimpers and incoherent mumbles coming from your plump lips like hushed prayers. “Gonna come Daddy, ‘m gonna come ‘s hard.” 

“It’s okay baby. Come on Daddy’s cock. I got you.” Jungkook goes feral when he sees the way you practically convulsate on his dick, squirting all over yourself. He’s only ever seen this on those shitty videos Taehyung sends him and he warned him that it wasn't an easy thing to do, not unless done right and when the other person is really into it. Jungkook’s flying over the moon right now knowing that he’s the reason why you can’t help, but squirt messily all over his cock. “Perfect. Noona’s perfect.”

The taller grips your thighs for support, fucking you through your intense orgasm until your inner thighs are all covered in your silky juices, being pounded into overestimation. Jungkook is really close himself and he knows nothing would compare to coming deep inside your walls, but he should respect his Noona’s wishes, at least this once. 

“Where should I come baby? Huh? Tell me.” Sweat accumulates on his forehead, dripping loads of it. Jungkook’s thighs burn from the same constant movement, practically bunny jackhammering into your pussy. He never imagined such a practice could be so tiring, he doesn’t even have to go work out tonight! 

By this point, you are in and out of consciousness. Jungkook hasn’t stopped splitting you in two, your aching everywhere, but the feeling is mind-blowing. Not even Seojun could make you feel this good, not anyone. 

You were in doubt. Jungkook had to have been experienced by the way he fucked. There’s not enough stamina to fuck the way he does. Jungkook’s a beast and he fucks like one too, using your cunt like a toy he can stick his dick into. Your pussy is stretched in ways unknown to man, perfectly molding around his cock, squeezing him in all the right ways. The more you feel his cock pressing into your pelvic floor, the more you start to realize, Jungkook belongs right here. Where he has been.

“Tell me baby. Want Daddy to come all over your pussy, give you a little facial? Tell me— fuck!” Jungkook’s pants grow hot and heavy, his orgasm approaching him hard. His cock is sensitive to the max, but he doesn’t stop, fucking you relentlessly through it all. 

Another realization hits within that moment. It’s already gone to the point of no return. You’ve sucked your baby step-brother off and let him drop his seed in your mouth. He’s kissed and licked every part of your pussy, like any good boy would. You’ve let your dongsaeng use your most intimate parts for his own personal pleasure and the worst part is you’ve actually enjoyed it all. Selfishly, you decide he’s the only one that could ever be right for you. Jungkook had been right all along, he was made for you. 

“Inside Daddy, wan— you inside.” Jungkook’s hips freeze as he hears you plead so prettily, tears streaming down your flushed face. God, he almost busts the moment he hears your honey-like voice begging for his release. “Please Daddy. Come inside muh— Noona’s pussy.” 

“Yeah, want me inside baby?” He goes back to thrusting, but this time it’s slower, more precise and spot-on, deeper. You’ve completely lost awareness of time as well and maybe a sense of who you were to him. Jungkook fucking you senseless and watching you fall deeper into the heat of haze with no remorse or regret. After this, there was no more to discuss, you were completely his. 

“Yeah— yeah wan it Daddy. Want it.” Jungkook happily complies, knowing you would come around if he just fucked you good enough to forget that you were off that horrid pill and that he could plant his ssed in your fertile little pussy and give you his child to bear. 

His brows furrow as he concentrates on the mess between your legs, it’s beautiful and all his fucking fault. He wants to bury his head into it, but first, he’ll come deep inside that swollen pussy and finish you off. Jungkook takes a moment to adjust and starts jackhammering your cunt again, this time his only purpose is to plant his seed as deep as it can go, claiming even the most sacred parts. Birth control be fucked! 

Jungkook’s thrust grow sloppy by the minute and you don’t know how much longer you can take until he’s fucked you completely faint. Mouth starting to feel parched, Jungkook attaches his lips to yours, kissing you through rough strokes. He devours your lips like honey and feels you start to clench around him again. He feels a little gash of juices trinkle along his slit and Jungkook realizes he’s made you come again by the way your walls clench around his cock. 

“Fuck baby, Daddy’s gonna come inside now.” All you can do is nod between blacking out, not wanting to waste his precious, healthy come. 

With one last growl, Jungkook’s coming deep. The last thing you remember is the heavy weight of Jungkook’s cock twitching and releasing the milky substance across your plushy warm inviting walls.

—-

“Hey honey, how was work today?” Your voice is soft and light as petals while you watch the food come to a boil on the stove, whisking it around and adding a bit more salt for taste while you wait for your husband’s response.

“Fine baby. Had a long meeting with one of our staff members about missing numbers, but the problem was taken care of.” Your husband’s voice is manly and smooth all around, almost husky-like. He goes to kiss your delicate cheek, watching your eyes flutter as he wraps hulky arms around you, bringing your back flush to his front. “Hope you haven’t been on your feet all day, my love. You should be resting, my love.”

You smile at your caring husband, enjoying his musky scent and broad body. “Of course not babe, I’m almost done with the stew. Help me grab a bowl?” 

“Mm.” Your husband hums and retreats to grab a bowl from a cabinet that is far too high for your reach with a quick pat to your ass, giving it a quick squeeze. “This one okay baby?” 

“Yeah!” 

The taller comes back with the empty bowl and you are quick to serve the steamy stew into the dish, always making sure your husband comes home to a warm homemade meal after his long days at work. He watches you from afar admiring the beauty and power his precious wife holds. 

You barely had time to pamper yourself today, but you managed to clean up well. Your hair was in a beautiful half-up half-down pony with the cutest white bow attached. Your makeup was perfect, a little bit of everything to fix the small imperfections you saw in the mirror earlier. And the most perfect little flowy dress with flowers decorating the material to fit your current body shape. You were absolutely perfect. An angel drawn to Earth. 

“You’re so beautiful baby.” Jungkook whispers into your ear, tickling your neck with his cool breath. “Smell so good.” 

“That’s the food.” You both laugh a bit, a hand cupping your swollen stomach pressing himself against your back-end yet again. The feeling was alike anything. He was starting a whole new life alongside the center of his entire world. Jungkook was the happiest he could ever be. 

“Nu-uh, that’s all you. Although, the food does smell impeccable. My tastebuds are craving for something else. Can’t wait to eat you—”

“Stop!” Jungkook laughs as you wack his hands away from your belly and continue to serve his bowl full. 

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook takes his bowl and waits for you at the dining table, you follow closely behind and sit beside him. “Thank you, Noona.”

You don’t get to hear that word often these days, mainly because it reminds you both of your previous relationship, but the younger one lets it slip from time-to-time, still as sweet as before, always by your side and doing his absolute best to please and look after you and the new addition. 

Coming from a broken family, Jungkook never imagined a life could be so simple and beautiful. Lately, Jungkook’s life is like a movie. He can’t believe this all belongs to him, what more can a man ask for. He has the kindest, most beautiful wife and she bears his healthy infant in her huge pregnant tummy. He owns a huge house, working his ass off to get it and established himself pretty early in his career, buying his wife only the best of things. Jungkook settled only for the best and he found that besides you, a true happily ever after, if you will. 

The rest is simply history, unimportant through your eyes. The only thing that mattered now is that you were both happy and extremely loved. 

The end!

[nicksolemnlyswears]

FORGED UNDER FIRE

THE UNPLEASANTRIES OF A SURPRISE

blurb: the sorrengail siblings reunite...what starts as a joyous surprise turns into an unpleasant moment as the realization of what brennan did sinks in

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nothing crazy, some violence and cursing, iron flame spoilers

a/n: hello, hello! sorry it took me a couple weeks to update, i've been studying for an exam and i was also catching up with some of my other writing. i had a long fic to update and a marcus acacius oneshot to write for a challenge but that is done!

i'm back and i hope you enjoy this part of forged under fire. it's not that long but it captures the essence of what needs to be said. you can now find a more detailed masterlist of this series on my main masterlist under fourth wing!

enjoy and let me know what you think at the end!

At the mention of a riot, Brennan sprung into action, calling out orders to the cadets under his care and the guards under his command. He knew the time would come when the Navarrians would find them, but he didn't expect it to be so soon.

Brennan curses when Violet speeds past him, running towards the courtyard and calling her dragon. He wishes to follow, but he has a protocol and orders to give. If it were up to him, he'd be following her and calling Marbh to meet him in the courtyard ready to battle.

"It is not a riot. More are coming to join us, forty of them. Teine leads them," Marbh tells him through his link.

"Mira?" Brennan whispers, the corner of his lips turning into a smile. The arrival of his sister is a welcomed surprise.

With a string of new orders and the reassurance they won't go into battle any time soon, he follows after Violet. He's excited to see Mira, his younger sister who he shared a childhood with. At one point, she was his best friend.

The two bickered more than acceptable, but it was part of their dynamic. At the end of the day, Mira and Brennan were each other's biggest supporters.

Brennan smiles when he steps outside, spotting his sisters together. He hurries down the steps, eager to join them and have a proper family reunion.

Teine has put a considerable amount between him and Tairn, considering the bigger dragon had his jaw around his neck not long ago.

Mira falters at the sight of Brennan. Her face pales as her brother, who was supposed to be dead, gets closer. The image of him is clearer and clearer. The sleep deprivation must be getting to her because it simply can't be him.

"Hey, Mira," he says as he approaches, preparing to give Mira the biggest hug.

His voice just about confirms his status as alive and breathing. Her older brother is alive. Her partner in crime.

Deep inside, she's elated that he's alive, that she didn't lose him, but there are layers of anger and resentment to sort through. He's alive, but at what cost?

Memories of her grieving and burning his belongings flash through her mind. Her mother's distance, her father's death, her sister-in-law's suffering, and her nephew growing up without a father figure. They all dealt with his death while he was hiding.

Without much thought, she allows that anger to flow straight through her as she lifts her fist and swings. A satisfying crunch and blood pouring from Brennan's nose lets her know she hit true. It's not the first time she's broken his nose, and it certainly won't be the last.

Violet guides them inside in a flurry, shooting orders left and right. Brennan clutches his nose with a handkerchief as blood pours down his face while Mira glares at him and everyone who tries to touch her.

Once they are alone, an argument ensues between the three siblings. Different questions arise about Brennan faking his death, the rebellion Violet is seemingly leading and their status as family. Violet may have forgiven Brennan, but his betrayal is too fresh for Mira.

It is chaotic and messy, but it describes the Sorrengails perfectly.

Xaden joins them in the office, watching amusedly at how they argue. Perhaps it's for the best he doesn't have siblings. The resemblance between them can be seen perfectly in how their mannerisms overlap and mimic each other.

The room turns quiet at Violet's order. The siblings all stare at each other. Mira ignores the fact that Violet has more guts than she used to. They've changed so much over the years, yet they are the same.

"How is she?" Brennan breaks the silence to ask about his wife. The last time Violet was here, he didn't get the chance. They were in and out in a hurry.

Not a day goes by when he doesn't think about you. Leaving you is his biggest regret. Your relationship was a pillar that kept him strong for so long. You often discredited yourself by thinking you needed him more than he needed you. You were wrong. Brennan needed you just as much.

The moment his signet manifested he stopped being Brennan. All they saw were his healing abilities and how they could use him in their battles. He loves his signet, but it felt dehumanizing when all they saw was a tool.

Except you always saw him as Brennan. You never asked to be healed by him. You’d rather bandage your injuries and deal with the pain. He never let you. If there’s anyone he’ll heal without protest, it’ll be his family.

"Who?" Mira asks, crossing her arms and raising a judgemental eyebrow at him. She knows exactly who he's asking about.

Brennan rolls his eyes, "My wife. How is she?" He asks directly at Violet this time. Reasoning with Mira will be impossible when she's in a mood.

Violet's expression softens, but before she can answer, Mira interjects, "Your wife? You don't have a wife, do you, Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh? Brennan Sorrengail had a wife, but he's dead."

Mira sneers at Brennan her anger eating at her fervently. She doesn't understand how Violet forgave him so easily. Doesn't she realize the gravity of what their brother has done?

"Mira, come on! Enough of this." Brennan pleads, driving his hand through his hair. A sign he's stressed out by the situation.

There were so many times he wanted to reach out to his family. To tell them he was alive and well and that he missed them. It was not realistic when telling them would've endangered them further.

Navarre doesn't want its citizens to know about the venin and what's going on outside the borders. Telling them could've led them to be charged with treason. That is, if Lilith Sorrengail admitted to the information she kept secret.

"You really want to know? Fine, she's dead, Brennan!" Mira exclaims, giving her back to him.

"What?" Brennan pales and falls back on his seat, burying his head in his palms. It can't be. You can't be dead. His heart pounds in his chest at Mira's words, the world spinning around him. The one thing he always counted on was you outliving him by staying safe within Navarre's wards.

"Dead to you! You lost the right to know when you faked your death," Mira says, spinning back around to stare accusingly at him. Maybe that will give him some idea of how they felt when he faked his death.

Violet and Xaden stare at the pair with wide eyes. That was cruel even for Mira.

"Fucks sake, if you think leaving her, leaving any of you, was easy, then you're wrong. I know you're upset, but I had to do this. I couldn't ignore the threats outside of Navarre. Threats our parents were hiding," Brennan shouts back, his chair tumbling to the ground as he stands.

His face matches Mira's as they glare at each other and share the same flushed complexion. It reminds Violet of the good old days when they'd argue about the smallest things.

"You didn't stop to think about me or Violet? You were my brother Brennan, my best friend!" Mira yells, pointing at him accusingly, "And then you try to hug me like everything is okay? This is all levels of fucked up."

Brennan sighs in defeat. "I really am sorry."

Mira looks down and says, "You didn't just leave us. You made us believe you were dead and that we'd never see you again. We mourned you: Dad, Mom, Violet, your wife, and the worst part of it all is--"

She almost told Brennan about his son but couldn't tell him. Mira can't bring herself to tell him about the best thing that happened to their family since he 'died.' It's not her call, and it's not like he deserves to know, either. He gave up that right when he chose to fake his death.

Brennan waits for her to finish her sentence, expecting a string of words to pour more salt into the wound.

"You don't really realize everything you've given up," Mira says ominously, standing across from her brother, no longer pointing fingers or looking to argue. Mira is tired. It's been a long day.

"Will you hate me forever?" Brennan asks her.

Mira smiles sadly, "I don't hate you, Brennan. I love you, but this hurt more than you can imagine."

Brennan opens his mouth to apologize once more, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

"Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh, a word?" One of the Aretian soldiers asks. Brennan nods, telling him to wait outside.

"I hope you know I really am sorry. I hope we can work through this because I missed my best friend." With that, he steps outside the room, Xaden following him.

Brennan is sorry, but he doesn't regret it. It was a sacrifice he had to make. He's hopeful Mira will come around and understand his intentions were good.

"You didn't tell him," Violet speaks softly, glancing at the closed door.

"Neither did you," Mira rolls her eyes, leaning back against a desk, "Not like it matters, he'll find out very soon."

"What do you mean?" Violet asks instantly.

"Because she's coming here," Mira says, playing with a paperweight, "Mom convinced her it's for the best, but she had to go get Benny before coming."

Lilith Sorrengail gave the riders a choice. They could stay in Navarre or join the rebellion. You chose to stay with her, not because you believed in Navarre but because you owed Lilith a lot. She deserved to have someone in her corner. So, it came as a surprise when she insisted on you joining Mira.

"How do you think he'll take it?"

"I'm not worried about Brennan. I'm worried she'll lose her shit and make Calliss eat Brennan," Mira responds with a smile at the imagery she's made up in her head.

"He'd deserve it," Violet laughs, knowing Calliss won't eat Brennan. "On the bright side, I'm excited to see the little bugger."

Little Bennett and Violet share a close relationship. Violet looked after him constantly, and Benny became attached to his aunt. She missed him most when she left for Basgiath.

"You can't be his favorite forever," Mira chimes, determined to take the title from her sister.

Violet laughs, and Mira joins her. It's crazy to think their family will be together soon. That is, if you don't murder Brennan first.

oop were getting closer to readers reunion with brennan! ain't that exciting! for the next one i think i'm bringing it back to when brennan and reader were in basgiath. i want to talk a bit about her signet so yes!

let me know in the comments or in my asks if there's a specific bit between them you'd like to see! i don't know if this is dragging for you guys, i personally love it but if you'd like me to just write them meeting up then let me know too.

tag list (if you'd like to added to future parts let me know!) : @berry-marys @cherubinn7 @ladynyx91 @kylaisra @detectivehailey @liahaslosthermind @thebreadisthetruevillian @bbkissme99 @honethatty12 @sunny1616 @akshstudios @yadirrez @xoxomoonlightbabe @jaynawayna @littlepippilongstocking @itsmytimetoodream @honethatty12 @poseidont @lveegsoi @cheappremingerfromdelululand @tattee-18 @bxm-2121 @hannahjsworld @holb32 @hannah-schooler

[jinxvex]

OH MY GOSHHHH CRYBABY READER AND CAITLYN 😵‍💫😵‍💫 can we have something like caitlyn fucking crybaby reader with her strap and she is soooo mean about it ☹️ like our makeup is running and she's being so condensing UGH I NEED HER BADDDD

♱ lesson learnt. ♱

lil drabble bc i’m lazy! + (a oneshot that may or may not involve ellie williams is in the works though…)

syp. mean mommy!cait fucking you with her strap after you got smart in front of her colleagues at a fancy event.

cw: nsfw content!!, strap-on sex, mommy kink, she slaps you once, choking, degradation/mocking, rough sex, vulgar language/cursing (obv), she's real mean!!

at this point in time, you were unsure what you had said or done to make it to this point. did you have too much wine? say or do something fucked up because of it? have a little too much attitude? arrogance? conviction? nerve…? your vision went white simply thinking of reasons as to why or how.

‘where was i?’ ‘when the hell did i get here?’

nevertheless, it’s a certain ‘who’ that snaps you out of your self-questioning turmoil with a striking *SLAP!!* across your tear-stained cheek.

“are you even listening to me, whore?” caitlyn spits at you with a venomous tone which is a daunting contrast to her usually sweet and caring voice.

she’s currently looking down at you from above—hands gripping the skin at the back of your thighs and legs planted firmly on the end of the bedspread. her hair is falling out of her neat ponytail and her eyes are dark. the darkest you’ve ever seen them. she has your legs resting on her strong shoulders with your hands bound together by a rope above your head.

the position you’re both in should be considered missionary on steroids because of the way you can feel her cock pressing against your cervix so magnificently yet, almost painfully. she’s pounding into you mercilessly, forcing you to take her cock for the way you acted towards her in public.

“you are so lucky i’m even fucking you right now. so lucky. do you have any idea how foolish you’ve been tonight? a disrespectful little slut, is what you are.”

as you look at her, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head and tears streaming from your face, you can’t help but silently beg her, what for? who knows? her roughness sparks a string of desire that courses through your veins up to your brain.

“aww, poor girl. it’s so fucking deep, isn’t it? i bet you can feel it in your throat.” she’s taunting you. her dick thrusting inside of your cunt makes nasty, loud sloshy noises—makes your pussy drench the space below you.

“maybe that’s why you’re unable to speak.”

wrapping her hand around your throat, she squeezes harder the faster she moves in and out of you, “you love this. you love it, don’t you, darling? i can tell by the way you’re getting me all wet. so dirty.”

“ungh—f-fuck! y-yes, mommy!!” you respond to her for the first time in what seems like forever.

you feel the pure frustration seeping through her skin into yours, not just because of the sweat dripping from her brow onto your neck but because her stare sears daggers into you everywhere all at once.

“hmm. mommy can’t even punish you properly because you enjoy it. you enjoy being treated like a toy… solely for my usage. mine.”

the more she taunts and teases you, the more slick pools out of your puffy cunt—the more you tip closer to the edge.

“since you enjoy acting so heinously, you’re going to cum so much. so much, you’ll be begging me to stop, sweetheart. but i’m not going to.”

“not until you’ve learnt. your. fucking. lesson.”

…

AHHH!! i jumped 4 joy when i saw this rq thank u thank u!! 💋

(yes i used the british spelling for ‘learned’ on purpose.)

[pinkberrytea]

Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.

Enjoyment beyond the death drive—beyond the self-imposed regulation of pleasure. He wants her, so desperately, so ardently; yet she escapes through his fingers like fine sand, falling on the ground and dissolving in the dirt above his grave.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: this is the sequel to la petite mort! while it was initially intended as a standalone oneshot, i wanted to expand on the themes introduced in the original. hopefully it lives up to its predecessor! thank you to the wonderful @xxnashiraxx for giving this one a read, i love you dearly friendo!

tags: blood drinking; hurt & comfort; possessive behavior; masturbation; hand jobs; body worship; dry humping

“Astarion…?”

His name slips from your lips before you even open your eyes, your consciousness slowly returning as you are suddenly woken from restless sleep. You feel his naked chest pressed flat against your back, his cold skin robbing you of the warmth of yours; his strong arms encircling your waist, hands roaming your sides; and his fangs, sank deep into the crook of your neck as his wet tongue laps up your crimson, which leaks from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and onto your shoulders. There is no pain—rather, the sensation is almost pleasurable, familiar, which comes as no surprise considering it’s been months now ever since his nightly feeding sessions became a daily occurrence. You don’t even bother setting up your tent anymore; upon leaving the Shadowlands, he’d begin routinely insisting that you sleep in his, heedless of your mutual agreement to abstain from more carnal proclivities for the time being. “Oh, darling, wouldn’t you say it’s much easier for me to dine with you this way? As hard as it will be for me to keep my hands to myself, I did give you my word,” he’d say, and true enough, you had yet to go beyond very heated kissing and groping—regardless, here he is now, avidly drinking from you while grinding the throbbing bulge inside his pants against your rear.

“Shh. It’s alright, love. Go back to sleep.” Astarion unlatches from your bruising vein to whisper the words in your ear, and you are almost tempted to do just that, but it’s far too late; ignoring him or the erection poking at your backside is no longer an option, and he probably realizes that too, having stopped gliding his hands up and down your torso to gently rest them on your arms instead. You are wearing his shirt, a habit you’ve taken to in recent days—at first you’d lie and say it was because you didn’t want your own to become soiled with blood, though in truth you simply enjoy the intimacy of sharing clothes and the comfort of being enveloped in his scent. Despite seeing right through your excuses, Astarion didn’t seem to mind at all; quite the opposite, he appeared to enjoy the fact that you’d start sleeping clad in nothing but his shirt and your underpants, since oversized as it is, the length would be enough to cover your crotch and thighs. He likely didn’t factor in your agreement, of course—while convenient in most other circumstances, the ease of access wouldn’t exactly be conducive to chastity, so to speak.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you groan and twist your body to face him. He moves one of his hands to your scalp, lovingly running his slender fingers through your tousled hair and planting a bloodstained kiss on your temple. When he finally pulls away to meet your stare, a shiver unexpectedly runs down your spine; his pupils are blown out, almost completely eclipsing his sanguine irises, yet you can undeniably see something primal and hungry lurking in their depths. The candle you had lit before turning in for the night burns bright still, and the light of its dancing flame bounces off his sharp teeth, which had been puncturing your own flesh but moments ago. How easy it is to forget what the heart wants to deny—whenever the true nature of his vampirism rears its ugly head, you find yourself questioning your blind trust in him. Yet like a passing breeze, just as soon as that sliver of doubt weasels its way into your mind, it’s then gone; foolish though it may be, you don’t fear the darkness in him, not now, not when he first put a knife to your throat. 

“You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one night it’s better to forget.”

Tentatively, you reach out to lightly stroke his cheek, the pads of your fingers ghosting over his ivory skin. His eyelids flutter close as if by instinct, and he quietly leans into your touch, looking almost vulnerable for a moment. Ever so delicately, you trace the lines on his face, his high cheekbones, his cupid’s bow, his plush lips, which are parted still. It amazes you how his features can be at once so edged yet so soft, much like the man himself, in a way. No, you don’t fear him, even if he has given you no reason not to other than a heartfelt confession.

“I—I could help you, you know,” you hear yourself mumble, almost bashfully, a faint glow spreading across the bridge of your nose and warming the tips of your ears. “With that, I mean.” Astarion furrows his brow and his eyes flit back open in confusion, only to slightly widen as you coyly motion with your head towards his obviously tented pants. He looks down at his groin and then up at you, unsure of what to think, much less of what to say. It’s not often that he is left wanting for words, but then again, you were ever one to drag him out of his comfort zone. 

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you little rascal.” Despite the initial shock, he quickly regains composure, almost too quickly. His expression abruptly changes, gaze laced with seduction and lips quirked upwards into a practiced smirk. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the first one of us to acquiesce? I’ll admit your innocent facade had me fooled, but you’re quite the needy thing underneath those big round eyes and blushing cheeks, aren’t you, darling?” he teases, voice lowering an octave, its cadence measured to an almost unnerving degree. Your mouth becomes dry and your stomach coils into a tight knot as you immediately recognize his sudden shift in attitude, a side of him you’ve come to know all too well and that disturbs you still—yet even more worryingly, his otherwise perfectly poised countenance seems to enshroud an emotion that had never been there before: anxiety. Astarion is nervous, possibly even afraid that he is about to lose something—that you are about to lose something, something precious and dear to him. 

“I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

“No! That’s… I didn’t mean it like that,” you blurt out, heart fluttering in your chest, so loudly you are sure he can hear it. While you have never gone over the terms of your agreement or discussed them in-depth, you had always assumed that physical intimacy wouldn’t necessarily be off the table, especially the kind of intimacy that would require nothing of him. Although perhaps therein lies the problem—someone who perceives everything as transactional would naturally fail to accept that another would be willing to give without taking. Remorse washes over you as you realize your mistake, which you promptly try to mend, much as the guilt bars you from looking him in the eyes. “What I meant is… I can take care of it. For you.”

Astarion’s eyebrows slowly slide up his forehead and he studies you intently for what seems like an eternity, clearly taken aback. Before long, he finally breaks the silence, humming quizzically and untangling his fingers from your hair. “Hm? Is that right?” he hesitates, only to yet again flash you a sly smile, a much softer one this time, ruby irises twinkling with something akin to melancholy. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” Despite provocatively purring each word, the tone with which he speaks is remarkably gentle, almost uncertain. Bringing a hand to your chin, he cups it delicately and tilts your head upwards, prompting you to meet his stare, its flirtatious edge now replaced with wistful warmth.  

“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

You inhale sharply, your brief show of boldness having obviously run its course, and the pink flush coloring your ears deepens into a bright red. His smile widens once he notices your nervousness, and he brings his face even closer to yours, so close you can feel his lashes tickling the delicate skin under your eyes. His cool breath caresses your lips, the metallic scent of blood—your blood—wafting up your nose. Still cupping your chin, he at last closes the distance between you, covering your mouth with his and hooking a leg over your waist to pull your bodies flush together. With the swell between his thighs now nudging your belly, he starts leisurely rolling his hips, resuming what he had been doing before rousing you from your slumber.

“Hnng…” As you bury your fingers in his silvery curls, melting into the kiss and relishing the taste of him, Astarion lets out a muffled moan, low and throaty. Wetness starts pooling between your folds, though instead of indulging in the sensation, you try to ignore it to the best of your ability—tonight is not about you, and you want him to know this. Regardless, he can obviously smell your arousal, but far from causing any upset, it only serves to entice him further; sliding his free hand down your back, he firmly grabs one of your buttocks with a bruising grip upon reaching your ass, kneading it roughly. All this time, he’d been graciously accepting your generosity, and then some—he’s not about to stop now, not when for once he knows he hasn’t manipulated you into extending your kindness to him.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.”

“Mngh—Astarion…” you mewl into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside yours, fangs nipping at your bottom lip without breaking skin. You press one of your palms to his chest, feeling the firmness of his pectorals under the soft pads of your digits before gingerly sliding them downwards, raising a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Drawing small circular patterns, you slowly glide your blunt nails across the valleys of his ribs, his navel, and finally his lower abdomen, teasingly grazing the waistband of his pants.

“My, such a good little helper you are,” Astarion breaks the kiss to murmur against your reddened lips, and moving his hand on your chin down to grasp your own, he encourages you to venture under the waistband. Your fingers now intertwined with his, you let him guide you to the hardness pushing against his smallclothes, which are damp with precome, much like yours are damp with slick. You can feel the outline of his length through the thin fabric, and he unceremoniously has you both fist it, wiggling his hips so that his pants drop below the plump of his behind. 

“Such a good, selfless little helper…” he croons, sliding both of your hands up and down his still covered cock. With every pump, his groans grow huskier, small beads of sweat pooling in the creases of his forehead. His eyes are now closed, his mouth slightly parted, and his hold on your hand is strong, if not binding. Your dripping sex wantonly clenches around nothing at the sight of him, so hopelessly focused on his own pleasure; gods, how desperately you wish to be stretched open around his enlarged girth, stuffed full of him until you are both flailing for purchase, panting and screaming each other’s name. He may not be ready for that yet, but as your imagination wanders, you tell yourself that there’s no harm in picturing him taking you from behind, balls swinging and hitting your ass as he thrusts deep into your slit with reckless abandon; your lips wrapped around his flushed cockhead, one of his hands mercilessly tugging at your hair as he sings you praises; you bouncing on his lap, buttocks slapping against his legs with each bob of your body.  

“Astarion…” you moan, rubbing your thighs together to get some relief from that small amount of friction. His cock jerks under your combined hands, so hard now that his smallclothes are pulled back enough to reveal the swollen tip. How sweet is the sound of his name on your tongue, how sweet is the scent of your desire when he is the one you yearn for. Just as you fantasize about him, Astarion too keeps replaying all sorts of scenarios in his head—he hates that he can’t have you yet, that he can’t pin you to a wall or throw you on a table and fuck you until you beg him for mercy; he hates that he can’t watch your cute little tits jiggle as your tight cunt swallows him whole, that he can’t coax pretty noises out of your rosy lips and make your eyes water as you come for him. He hates that his lust for you is tainted, that his lust for you is what inspired him to choose you as his target in the first place. Most of all, he hates himself for having disregarded you as a beautiful fool; for having underestimated his own susceptibility to falling in love, for having even fallen in love at all. 

“You’re a vision. And you’re so much more than that.”

“Gods, I want to be inside you…” Astarion grunts, letting go of you to pull down his smallclothes, finally freeing his weeping erection. It glistens in the candlelight, red and hungry, and you waste no time wrapping your fingers around its base. A muted whimper falls from his lips once your warm skin collides with his, and he rolls his hips into your hand, to which you respond by lightly squeezing him, drawing pearly, sticky liquid from the twitching crown. “Gentle, darling…” he whispers, though his half-lidded eyes, hazy with want, show no sign of aggravation—despite the commanding tone of his voice, it’s safe to assume that the instruction is not so much a complaint as a suggestion. Regardless, you obey, stroking him softly and setting a sensual pace to your movements.

“That’s it. That’s it, love. Good girl…” With his newly freed hand, Astarion tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his long fingers against your cheek before inconspicuously running them down the elegant column of your neck. His gaze is immediately drawn to the fresh set of bite marks maculating your otherwise perfectly smooth skin, and he absentmindedly licks his lips upon noticing the ruby droplets blooming from the small wounds. His cock throbs against your palm as he lowers his head to plant a loving kiss on the spot earlier claimed by his fangs—which he then sinks again into the still seeping artery. This time, you feel a sharp sting, but as soon as he starts sucking, the pain fades away; he wraps an arm around your upper body to hold you in place as he drinks, cradling you against his chest, and his other hand quickly finds one of your breasts under your—his—shirt. Trapping its puckered peak between two deft digits, he pinches it playfully, and you are unable to stifle the whine that subsequently forms in the back of your throat.

“Asta—aah…” You try to remain focused on the task you’ve been entrusted with, tightening your grip on him to remind yourself that he is the priority, not you. This in turn causes him to moan against your neck and shove his hips forward; taking his reaction as a cue, you speed up the tempo of your strokes, which are now almost synchronized with the vigorous bobbing of his Adam’s apple. His hand on your breast gropes it passionately, all five of his fingers now splayed across its soft swell and digging deep into the squishy flesh. He wonders if it’s a deliberate act of provocation, or if you really are so naïve that you wouldn’t notice his ravenous stare whenever your nipples pebble and become visible through the white sheerness of his shirt. Knowing you, it’s probably the latter; he’s yet to meet anyone as oblivious as you are, and while he has learned to accept that this side of you is not necessarily a weakness, it also awakens in him a protective instinct—a possessive instinct. You may be prey, but you are his prey; his to feed on, his to fuck, his, and nobody else’s.

“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

Astarion bends the leg hooked around your waist to pull you even closer to him, and from the way his groans increase both in frequency and in volume, you can tell he is about to fall over the precipice of ecstasy. The glossy sheen of sweat covering his pale skin makes him look like a marble sculpture, an otherworldly creature, yet the ferocity with which he feasts on your crimson reveals him not touched by the divine, but consumed by sin. It’s almost ironic then, that sinful as his longing for you may be, it feels so pure, so sacred. Tension coils low in his stomach, and for once there is no guilt, no disgust, no contempt; only rapture, as if he were an apostate and your love a haven, a promise of sanctuary.

“But I know that this?”

You pump him one last time, and with a guttural growl, Astarion comes in your hand, spurting out ribbons of his seed all over his own abdomen and thighs. Unlatching from your neck, he doesn’t bother pulling away, bloodied lips still pressed against your heated flesh, and his hand that had been under your shirt joins the other as both of his arms fold around your midriff. You let go of his softening length to run your fingers through his curls, closing your eyes and trying to catch your breath, tiredness suddenly weighing down all of your limbs and anchoring them to your bedroll. Lulled by the gentle pounding of your heart, he too empties his mind and lets himself be engulfed by the warmth of your body, so soft, so inviting, so very alive. Your taste still lingers on his tongue, your lifeblood now mixed with his within his veins—as his happiness trickles down in rivulets of scarlet, yours soars into the starry night sky. 

“This is nice.”

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[aurynsia]

what would be the life after hogwarts for james and reader? i can just imagine james thinking of the best ring he could give reader to ask her to marry him, or even like thinking of where they should live in.

Life After Hogwarts

James Potter x Reader

Summary: James won’t settle for anything less than perfect for his perfect girl...

Warnings: Intense fluff, Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, James is just a good hearted rich boy who wants the best for his partner <3

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wrote this as a sequel to this series, but it can just as easily be read as a stand alone oneshot. Enjoy!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Pads, please focus here. This is serious!”

“No, I’m Sirius, born and raised! Are you sure you aren’t feeling lightheaded, Prongs?”

James and Sirius stood bent over the cabinet of delicate rings, the latter struggling to free himself from a ring size too small. James huffed in frustration, brows furrowed in contemplation as he glanced across the display one last time.

“None of them feel right, I’m telling you! We‘ll just have to find somewhere else, she won’t like how flashy all of these diamonds are,” James sulked and grumbled as Sirius finally eased the ring off of his nimble finger.

“Prongs, this is the fifth jeweller we’ve been to in the past four hours. Merlin, the sun is already setting and you haven’t even considered a single one of the more than acceptable rings we’ve looked at!”

Sirius scrambled to chase James out of the store, pace quickened along the damp concrete of the sidewalk.

“It needs to be perfect, she’s perfect. I will settle for no less.” James held his head high, nose turned upwards at the raven haired boy who grew visibly sluggish with every step.

Sirius groaned, only following his bespectacled friend for another quick moment before James stopped abruptly at a pawn shop window, eyes bursting wide with hope.

The ring in the window shone elegantly against the store’s harsh light. The metal twisted and turned in a smooth curve that was sure to make your skin glow radiantly in contrast. It was understated, with only the minor details in the engravings making a quiet display of the mountain of money James was about to spend.

“That’s the one. It’s perfect.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The cool breeze wrapped around the Potter’s summer house with ease, pressing against your skin to form goosebumps along the soft surface.

James had been acting strangely all day, almost avoiding you at every turn of the house’s walls like his life depended on it. He fiddled with his fingers, stuttered out his words and blushed at every subtle sound of amusement you made.

Finally relaxing into your side, James sheltered you from the wind with his body on his family’s beach-side deck. Your evening beverage was pressed between your legs, freeing your hands to run soothing circles over your boyfriend’s back.

His eyes clenched shut, head growing wrinkles as he sought his trademark courage that seemed to all but disappear the moment you were near.

Slowly, tentatively, he lifted his body from your warmth, flashing you a sympathetic smile to compensate for the absolute fool he was about to make of himself.

“Love, I- you mean the world to me…” he turned to face you. “These past years with you have made for some of the happiest moments I’ve ever experienced…” he shifted to lift up onto his knees, gazing down at your curious expression.

“I love you so, so much. I loved you when I first met you, the shy girl on the Hogwarts express. I loved you when we started dating, all smiles over candle lit dinners, and…” He moved again, down on one knee. “I want to keep loving you when you marry me.”

You gasped at the genuine glaze of his soft brown eyes, his lean towards your stationary body, and the ring sat in his grasp, shrouded by a velvet box.

He coughed slightly at the awkward atmosphere, repeating himself with clarity. “Will you…marry me?”

“Godric, James- yes!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Fleamont Potter was showering his son with engagement gifts. James never had any reason to complain about his family or economic situation, and to say he grew up comfortably would be a drastic understatement.

House hunting was James’ first protocol after his successful proposal. He had patiently listened to you ramble about your dream house for years, trying to stay focused under your captivating gaze and endearing energy. Big windows, lots of light, and a burning fireplace.

That’s exactly what James was searching for as he strolled down the streets of Godric’s Hollow. He had inspected every single house he could find, taken or not. The day was wearing out, washing lines already dried under the subtle summer heat.

His gaze fell in a wave of sluggish fatigue, only to be snapped open by the sight of a Southern-style mansion positioned right on the edge of Godric’s Hollow, towering over the sidewalk. The house was decorated with shutters and balconies, as well as a small red sign in the front yard.

FOR SALE.

He rushed to the front door, conveniently propped open. “It’s a beautiful place, really, but we’re after something a little more…modern.” A family glided past James in a pack, concluding what he could only assume to be a tour of the house.

The estate agent fixed his tie as he bid farewell to the family, promising something about searching closer to the city the following week. He spun around to find James gawking eagerly at the front door, before clearing his throat to gain the young Potter’s attention.

“Would you like a tour?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James flashed you a smug smile as you gazed in awe at the intricate architecture of your new townhouse. You were perched on the front lawn, tucked into James’ side with his hand on the small of your back.

“It’s so beautiful…” you mused wistfully, gaze drawn to the rustic tiles on the roof like sunflowers to the sun. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, I mean- this must have been an absolute pain to buy…” you finally tilted your gaze to see James peering over you, a lovesick longing painted on his features.

“Love, my father knows people - too many to count - who were more than happy to help with this little engagement gift,” he chuckled, eyes still locked on yours. “When I saw this house for the first time…it was calling your name. Our names.”

The house was big enough to hold a few kids and some small pets - clearly too big for just you and James, but he hoped that your family would fill it out in the coming years. There needed to be room for at least one big black dog.

Still uncertain, you gave James a sceptical look. “It was no trouble, really.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he drove you through the open door by your shoulders.

You stumbled through each room, captivated by the warmth in every corner you turned to. James was hot on your heels, guiding you by your waist every now and then to show you specific features of the kitchen, the bathrooms and the already decorated master bedroom.

You jumped onto the bed with glee, warmth engulfing you under your body.

“Jamie…it’s perfect…” you mused, eyes shut as you felt the bed dip with your Fiancée’s weight, who shifted to kiss your forehead with care.

“You’re perfect, love.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————