#father of mine universe

[justiceiswater]

Bahahaha! why did he approach her at all?! what a frick fracking idiot. Im so pleased that damian swooped in with his wicked tongue to annihilate that dude. Like, Goodbye Corey! Nobody wants you here! 

Exes

Father of Mine – Masterlist

“Don’t you think it’s sad that we’re not throwing a party with goodie bags and cake and stupid little hats?” Y/N asked Dick as they watched Damian playing a game by himself at the arcade.

The two of them were sitting at a booth, but kept Damian in their eye line as he bounced around from game to game.

“The League and the whole fam is coming over tomorrow. The Kents are even letting Jon sleep over,” Dick shrugged. “I just hated the idea of Damian going on patrol on his actual birthday.”

Y/N sighed, knowing he had a point.

Bruce had an emergency that took him out of Gotham.

He already felt like a bad father constantly. But then being out of town for Damian’s birthday made him feel even worse.

Tim and Jason were patrolling Gotham. while the other half of their family was off duty for the night.

Dick had asked Damian what he wanted to do.

Actually, Dick basically had to beg Damian to tell him what would make him happy.

Damian didn’t have a clue.

What do other kids his age do for their birthdays?

And it ended with Dick having to suggest the arcade . At least Damian finally had some sort of reaction to the suggestion.

The only thing he had actually requested was the presence of his sister: “Can Y/N come, too?” Damian had asked Dick, as if there was ever a chance that Dick would say no to such a request.

Now the two of them were watching Damian growling at a game. It was clear from his expression that he was bored by the things.

“You ever feel like we’re his parents?” Y/N asked Dick with a smirk.

Dick laughed and crossed his arms. “Guess it does feel that way sometimes, yeah.”

“But…like…cool parents,” Y/N emphasized.

“Obviously,” Dick agreed. “Getting hungry?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I’m starving actually.”

Dick nodded and stood. “I’ll get the three of us some food. Be right back.”

“Y/N?” Someone said from off to the side.

She whipped around to see the last person she expected: her ex-boyfriend.

“Corey?” Y/N almost yelped in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N slowly stood up from their booth, even though she wanted nothing to do with this awkward and unwanted interaction.

Corey went in for the hug and she was a bit taken aback, but got it over with.

“Who the hell are you?” Like an absolute ninja, Damian had appeared out of nowhere, standing at Y/N’s side with a deep frown and his arms crossed.

Y/N had to hide her amusement. “Damian, this is Corey.”

“We used to date,” Corey said in one of those obnoxious voices that people used to talk to kids.

It was unnecessary and causing Y/N second-hand embarrassment for him.

Damian looked the guy up and down, clearly unimpressed.

He finally let out a huff, making sure Corey knew he didn’t think he was anyone special.

Corey caught it and then seemed to realize that he recognized the boy.

He turned to Y/N with his brows raised. “Hey, I saw you all over TV when the Bruce Wayne shit went down.”

She frowned, “Oh. Right.”

Damian immediately noticed that Y/N was uncomfortable.

“I tried call you,” Corey continued. “Wanted to check on you.”

Y/N scoffed and then let out a laugh. “Yeah? What for? It’s not like you ever picked up when I needed you.”

“That’s not true!” He tried to argue.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I tried calling you three times when my mom died. You never returned any of them or even contacted me at all when I was dealing with all that shit.”

They had already been broken up for a couple of months when Y/N’s mom died. But Corey had been aware of how sick she had been while they were dating. Y/N didn’t expect him to be the shoulder she cried on. But a phone call or even just a text message would’ve been nice. His lack of effort and kindness just reinforced that Y/N was right to break up with him.

“Who’s your friend?” Dick came back with a giant tray of food.

Per usual, he was friendly and gave Corey a warm smile.

“This loser is Y/N’s ex,” Damian answered for Y/N. “And from what I can see, we should be grateful that relationship is over.”

Dick’s eyes widened in horror. “Damian!”

But the boy ignored his older brother and took a threatening step closer to Corey. “You should consider yourself lucky for ever even being in my sister’s presence. I for one can say I am grateful that she wised up and realized she is way too good for you.”

"Jesus, kid." Corey gaped at him. "How old are you? 9?"

Y/N did face palm, knowing this was quickly taking a turn for the absolute worst. Corey could not have picked anything worse to say to her brother.

"I'm 12." Damian said proudly. "But I could still end your life in 5 seconds. Shall we take this outside?"

Y/N combed her fingers through Damian’s hair, desperately trying to calm him down.

She laughed, trying to make light of the situation. “Easy, Damian. No need to attack him on my behalf. It worked out for the best.”

Corey swallowed. “It did?”

Y/N smiled and nodded. “If we hadn’t broken up, I wouldn’t have met Jason.”

“Who’s Jason?” Corey asked, somehow disappointed.

“Her boyfriend, you imbecile,” Damian spat.

“Ooooook,” Y/N drew out. She gave a forced smile to her ex. “It was nice seeing you Corey.”

Her tone made it very clear that she had no desire to continue talking to him – or ever again, to be perfectly honest.

And Corey seemed to finally put together that he should go or this small child was going to destroy him – whether physically or verbally, he was entirely unsure.

“R-Right,” the poor guy managed to stutter out. He gave Y/N a somewhat pathetic wave and said, “Umm… see you around.”

“Sure,” was all she offered in return.

The three of them watched him walk away with his ego seriously bruised.

“He did not call you after you lost your mother?” Damian asked, clearly appalled.

Y/N just shook her head and shrugged. "Didn't come to the funeral either."

“What a worthless piece of–”

“Damian!” Dick warned before he could swear.

“What?! He is!”

Dick nodded. “I know he is. I agree. But you’re 12. Watch your mouth.”

Y/N laughed at the two. “How about we finally eat?”

“Good idea,” Dick agreed.

Luckily, the rest of the night continued without further drama or surprise run ins.

Y/N and Dick even joined in on some of the games with Damian. He seemed to be enjoying himself more. And for a few moments, it was like he was just another normal kid.

“Need me to drive you home?” Dick asked Y/N when they walked out of the arcade a couple hours laters.

“No, Jason–”

But before Y/N could finish her sentence, a motorcycle screeched to a halt in front of them.

Jason took off his helmet and revealed a mischievous smirk beneath it. “Hey, beautiful. Want a ride?”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend and nodded.

“Demon Spawn!” Jason called over the motorcycle.

“What?” Damian asked while he rolled his eyes.

Jason pulled something from inside his leather jacket and tossed it to him.

Damian easily caught it.

Jason had given him a new pack of colored pencils.

Y/N recognized the brand. They were super high end. And being set of 120 meant that they must’ve cost over $200.

“Happy Birthday,” Jason said lazily with a shrug.

His attention moved to Y/N. “How was the arcade?”

Jason was clearly trying to draw everyone's attention away from the fact that he gave Damian a super expensive and thoughtful gift.

“Good. We met one of Y/N’s ex-boyfriends,” Damian blurted out immediately.

Y/N face palmed herself once again, and groaned.

Jason raised an eyebrow and glanced at Y/N. “That so…”

“Yup,” Dick clarified. “And Damian did a good job of emasculating the poor guy.”

Jason smirked at Damian and held out his fist.

Damian smiled back and fist bumped him.

“Thanks for filling in, Demon Spawn.”

“OK. Can we stop talking about this now?” Y/N begged.

Dick agreed. “Alright, Dami. Time to get going.”

Y/N smiled at her brother and gave him a huge hug. Damian tried to act disgusted by the physical affection, but she knew he loved it.

“Happy Birthday, Damian. I’ll see you tomorrow. OK?”

“Mhmm,” the boy hummed.

Y/N walked over to her boyfriend and Jason quietly put on a helmet for her, making sure it was tightened correctly at the bottom and sitting right.

Damian didn’t start walking with Dick until Jason and Y/N whipped around the corner.

–––

“What’s got you so quiet?” Y/N asked Jason as they got ready for bed.

It was rare that the two of them went to bed together. One of them was usually sneaking into bed hours later. It was such a small, domestic thing. But when they were able to have it, they were grateful.

Y/N was doing her nightly skincare routine.

Jason was reading a book in bed.

But she could tell from the tension in his body and his eyes that he wasn’t really reading. He was spacing out, getting lost in his head. She also noticed he hadn’t turned a page in over 5 minutes.

Jason kept looking at the book as he asked, “How come you’ve never told me about any of them?”

Y/N squinted. “Told you about who?”

“Your ex-boyfriends.”

“Ahh. I see.” Y/N should’ve expected that it would come up eventually.

She crawled onto the bed, folding her hands on Jason’s stomach and then balancing her chin on top. He put his book to the other side of the bed and brushed some of Y/N’s hair away from her face.

“Honestly?” Y/N sighed. “None of them are really worth talking about.”

Jason narrowed his gaze. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true! Corey, the guy they met tonight…he was nice and fun at the beginning. Then one day I woke up and I just…I just realized that I was putting so much into a relationship that barely made me happy. I didn’t even cry when I broke up with him. It felt better to be alone than to be in a relationship that made me feel…”

“Nothing?” Jason offered.

She nodded.

“Hmm. And the others?”

Y/N shrugged. “Pretty much the same. Or we were just young and stupid.”

Jason nodded.

She gave him a soft stare, almost forlorn somehow.

“Jason, I know you’ve convinced yourself that I’m slumming it with you or something… But you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Jason teased, trying to keep it lighthearted.

He pulled her body up so her face wasn’t so far away from his, guiding her body so she was straddling him while his back still sat against the headboard.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it is your line,” she admitted. “But if it’s true for you, why is it so hard for you to believe it’s true for me, too?”

Jason takes her in.

Somehow he had a way of looking at Y/N that made her feel like she was the only woman he had ever seen before. He took in every detail even though he’d memorized her body long ago.

“‘Cause it’s you, obviously.” He finally told her.

Y/N shook her head, silently telling him that she didn’t accept such an answer.

“And what about you?” She asked.

Jason tilted his head. “What?”

“Your exes. You’ve never talked about them either.”

Jason huffed as if it took a lot of effort to even remember.

“Well… there was Rena. But we were children. Literally. Just a mutual crush, really. Met her when I was still Robin.”

“Did she know?” Y/N quickly asked.

Jason pretended to be offended by the question. “Course not.”

But Y/N pushed him to continue. “And after Rena?”

Jason winced, already knowing his girlfriend wouldn’t like this part.

“After Rena, I…uh…you know…died. Or whatever. But when I came back to Gotham, I wasn’t exactly looking for–” He coughed. “Relationships – if you know what I mean.”

“So you were just a little slut?” Y/N smirked.

Jason laughed. “Something like that, I guess. Yeah.”

She giggled at his honesty.

“Hey,” his voice was serious, making her smile drop. “I mean that when I say it.”

“What?”

“That you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Y/N responded with a kiss.

“And to think you tried to push me away…” she teased.

Jason groaned and hid his face in her neck, causing Y/N to giggle again. “I was scared!”

“The infamous Red Hood scared?” Y/N laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“You’re right.” Jason sat up straighter with a threatening look, which Y/N saw right through. “I ain’t scared of shit. And I’m fucking terrifying. I’ve made grown men piss themselves at the very sight of me.”

Y/N threw her head back in a laugh. “No. You’re secretly a softie. Don’t think your birthday gift to Damian got past me. You spent a pretty penny for someone who calls him ‘Demon Spawn.’”

Jason pretend to be confused.

“Yeah, you’re a softie,” Y/N repeated in a whisper. “But that’s why I fell in love with you.”

––––––

let me know if you liked it. ill keep writing these if people keep reading them. but i can't know that if you don't tell me.

[joelsbloodyhands]

Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? 😅 not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

[septemberkisses]

On Fathers and Rage: Collected Works #2

— me and him, on two opposite ends.

Excerpts from:

Mouthful of Forevers by Clementine von Radics • Pinterest • Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz • Vader en Dochter: Waarover Praten Zij? by Scheveningen 1999 • Pinterest • Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur • I hope this reaches her in time by R.H. Sin • Doomed From The Beginning by @/veniennes on tiktok • Lyra Wren • Woodtangle by Mary Ruefke

(read part 1 here)

[darkdragon768]

Various doodles of the Dorito Twins.

I just like to play with them like dolls and put them into situations.

[my-name-is-apollo]

Having a "I've connected the dots" moment on why Zeus is so affectionate with Apollo, and I don't know why I'd never considered it before that Apollo's youth could be a reason.

Iamblichus, The Life Of Pythagoras (trans. Guthrie)

So there was this sentiment that young boys are the dearest to the gods, and the gods are especially attentive towards their requests. And since Apollo is a perpetual young boy himself, with Zeus being the one to grant him this gift in one version, it makes sense that Zeus has granted so many of Apollo's wishes. He spared Prometheus and Periphas upon Apollo's request even though he was personally offended by them. He agreed to suppress Gaia and Athena upon Apollo's request when it came to the oracular business. He even revived Asclepius to console Apollo despite Apollo's frankly disrespectful reaction to Asclepius' death.

Apollo might be fearsome, powerful, and even reckless at times but when he kneels down in supplication, all Zeus sees is his little boy that he loves so much, and he can't help but give in to his requests (well, most of his requests at least). And as far as the text is concerned, and if I'm interpreting this correcltly, Apollo's youth is interestingly tied to his helpful nature because besides using his own powers to help the humans, Apollo can also help them by supplicating to Zeus on their behalf, as Zeus is more likely to grant a request when it's coming from him.

[spasikonik]

me if making fanarts of fictional bands was a job

[ozzo-the-wozzo]

I need to you guys to stay with me and imagine Adrien Agreste experimenting with what to wear after he quits modeling but being hopelessly lost on where to start so, after much consideration, he gets the brilliant idea to mimic his friends clothing aesthetics.

So naturally one week he’s wearing a backwards cap and baggy jeans in an attempt to mimic Nino who is ecstatic and another he’s wearing a lot of flannel which makes Alya roll her eyes and another him and Marinette are practically twins much to his delight until she gently tells him he only likes it because they are matching and he should probably keep looking until he finds something that is his own.

But instead he just keeps on mimicking classmate after classmate until he runs through them all and he starts talking to Kagami who’s figuring things out herself and doesn’t provide much to go off of and he settles on wearing suits until someone mistakes him for Felix.

So then he decides to move on from people and starts to look on Pinterest at Marinette’s suggestion and he copies the outfits down to a science but why does everything STILL feel not right? He decides it’s the website so he moves on and copies what he sees in magazines and in ads and it feels a little better but he also feels a little sick when he does it and why isn’t anything right and he’s twisting the ring on his finger so much it’s leaving a mark and hes pacing around the mansion and it has so many portraits and his dad is in all of them and why is he suddenly getting the feeling nothing he puts on will ever be right and why in the world does this stupid ring feel so heavy.

And so after a month of experimenting, he gets up in the morning one day and decides to try on the outfit he always used to wear and attempts to do his grown out hair the old way and looks in the mirror and stares at himself for a while. He slips on his sneakers and then the door rings and he heads downstairs to meet Marinette for school. As they’re walking he is still trying to decipher what he feels and he suddenly realizes that his dad would like this outfit a lot. He smiles to himself and tells Marinette and she smiles weakly and says she supposes he would and then avoids his eyes.

Adrien feels that familiar twist in his stomach that tells him something isn’t right, but when he tries to reflect on why that would be he’s only met with the same fuzzy memories of his father that he can’t quite sort out. He wonders if that’s where the unease comes from but then he shakes his head because those memories must be good because his father died a hero.

And so he wears the same outfit he always wore, ignoring the fact it feels a little too tight on him and that it makes his new ring feel heavier than ever.

[dancinginthesliverglow]

Denial and Hope by DancingInTheSliverGlow

G | 2.2k | Complete

Hermes & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson/Hades, Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Arranged Marriage, Good Friend Hermes, Worldbuilding

Hadercy Fest Day 5: Royalty @hadesxpercy-events

Polympians Prompt 2: Wedding/Marriage @polympians-event

As soon as Percy can feasibly get sneak away, he does. He knows the palace like the back of his hand having grown up here, so it doesn’t take him long to go down to the dungeons. He approaches the cell, and instructs the guard to open the far one and then take a long break from his post. “I brought you some food.” Percy says, when the guard is no longer in earshot. Ambassador Hermes, an illegitimate child of King Zeus and Percy’s best friend lifts his head up from the cot in the cell. Its blasphemous that Hermes of all people would be imprisoned. Then again, compared to the other choices Triton has made for him, for their kingdom - its a drop in the ocean. “Your brother isn’t using his newfound power as King to starve me, you know.” Hermes says, with some irony upon spotting the platter of food. “So you don’t want any?” Percy teases. It's half hearted, and he doesn't even make a move to leave. “Fine. I’ll just take it back-”

[dailyautophagy]

I can’t imagine being so young I need an audience to feel real

[shadowhandss60]

Those “throw away” quotes where Dorian mentions his physical abuse from his father REALLY hit different after THAT chapter of Kingdom of Ash

[justiceiswater]

Holidays in the manor! Major drama for the Wayne’s and Kent’s! Conner sounds like a bad time and I hope we don’t see a lot of him. I love how grumpy reader got. Just straight up petty. And Jason was so supportive! Even a little excited!

Thanksgiving

description: The Waynes and Kents decide to have Thanksgiving together. But that's not even the drama of the day.

a/n: the version of conner kent/kon-el i use for this is from new 52.

Father of Mine – Masterlist

“OK. What’s wrong?” Y/N had enough of her boyfriend’s silence.

Jason’s grip tightened on his steering wheel. But he responded with, “Why would something be wrong?”

“You’re being quiet.”

Which honestly wasn’t fair. Jason might have sass, cleverness, and sarcasm… but he also loved comfortable silence – though, really only Y/N and maybe Alfred knew that about him.

So it wasn’t fair to attack his silence.

But Y/N also knew there was something behind it in this specific moment.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jason shrugged. “Just…not really looking forward to this.”

“This being spending Thanksgiving with our family?”

Jason didn’t say anything, but it answered her question still.

“J,” Y/N’s voice was serious now. “If you’re that stressed about it, why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve spent the quietest and most boring Thanksgiving with my grandparents?”

As in her mother’s parents – who also happened to despise Bruce Wayne after how he treated their daughter.

Y/N fully believed if they knew Bruce’s secret, they would come to understand the situation fully like she had.

But Batman wasn’t her secret to tell – and somehow Bruce had learned to not care about people hating him for what they didn’t know.

“I’m not stressed,” Jason corrected roughly.

“Well, what exactly are you so worried about?”

He looked away from the road for a split second to give her a look. “You’ve never been to a Wayne/Kent function.”

Y/N squinted in confusion. “So? I’ve known Clark and Lois longer than I’ve known all of you. And Jon is such a sweetie.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “Well, you haven’t met Conner.”

“Clark’s brother?”

He just nodded.

But they both knew that was not the real relation. Conner was a clone of Clark and Lex Luthor, making him half-kryptonian and half-human, with a genius intellect.

“I don’t know much about him,” Y/N admitted.

“With him and Tim, and then Jon and Demon Spawn, it’s gonna be chaotic.” His eyes flickered to hers. “I mean, like shit-show chaotic.”

Y/N smirked. “Sounds fun, honestly.”

“Not really,” Jason mumbled. “He’s probably gonna hit on you.”

“Hit on me?!” Y/N blurted out. “Conner?”

“Yeah.”

She rolled her eyes. “And how can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s hit on me. And you’re completely out of my league. Obviously.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. That was not at all the answer she was expecting.

“What?” Jason asked when she didn’t respond. “He’s bisexual,” he added with a shrug.

“Yeah, and that’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting that answer.”

Y/N finally reached over and gripped Jason’s thigh. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Then she let out a heavy sigh. “To be honest, it feels weird going to a different Thanksgiving. It was always my mom’s side of the family. But all my cousins are married with kids and doing their own thing.”

“Sorry,” Jason told her softly. “I didn’t even think about how hard the holidays were going to be for you this year.”

“It’s OK,” she mumbled, but was frowning still.

“You miss her, huh?”

Y/N just nodded.

Jason gently took her hand that was on his thigh and placed a kiss to her knuckles. But instead of putting her hand back down, he held it with his right hand for the rest of the drive to Wayne Manor.

And she was grateful for it.

—

Jason was right: Wayne dinners were chaotic, but Wayne/Kent ordeals were even crazier.

It was a full house with Clark, Lois, Jon, and Conner. But Dick also brought Barbara with him. Meaning it was only 12 people, but it felt like three times that much with the loudness and the various boys running around.

Y/N was drinking wine with the adults when Clark looked around as if he were trying to find someone.

“Wonder when Diana’s getting here,” he thought aloud.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Diana?”

Somehow Y/N’s confusion made Lois and Clark even more confused. The couple shared a look with one another. As did Barbara and Dick. Y/N swore even Jason suddenly tensed at her question.

“Diana Prince,” Lois took pity on her.

“Sorry. I don’t know her,” Y/N muttered.

But a few minutes later, the extravagant doorbell of the manor rang and Y/N watched as Bruce hurried to the door.

Usually he let Alfred answer. So she was now intrigued.

As she tried to observe the new guest, a new face stepped in front of Y/N, blocking her view of the front door.

“You must be Y/N,” a young man greeted with a cocky smirk.

For being half-kryptonian, Y/N expected Conner Kent to be towering over her. But it was the opposite. With her height and heeled boots, she was looking down at the young man.

“And you must be Conner,” Y/N answered, and offered her hand politely.

But her eyes kept bouncing back to her father as he talked to a woman, whose face she couldn’t fully see yet.

To her surprise, Conner took her hand gently and brought it to his lips, kissing the edge of her knuckles and then giving her a flirtatious smile.

Y/N had no choice but to give the young man her full attention with such a gesture.

“Uhhh,” she managed to laugh out.

“Way to be creepy.”

Jason.

Y/N looked over her shoulder to see that Jason had moved close behind her. He must’ve been waiting for this moment, and stayed close to her since they arrived.

“Jason,” Conner greeted with a half nod. “I was just about to tell Y/N here how beautiful I find her.”

Y/N completely ignored him, too busy staring at her father.

Jason made a grossed out noise. “Aren’t you like 12? And you look like you could be her little brother,” Jason teased as made a point to look down at Conner, making his shorter height part of the joke.

“You’ve been saying Im 12 for years now, Jason. Get a new joke.”

“Well, maybe grow the fuck up and then I’ll stop.”

Conner looked Y/N up and down. “And for the record, I don’t have a problem with women being taller than me… or older.”

But she was not at all mentally present. Otherwise she would give Conner a piece of her mind.

Jason was actually surprised she hadn’t already. Even glancing down at his girlfriend, wondering what had her so quiet.

Then he followed Y/N’s gaze and realized she was too preoccupied with watching Bruce and Diana conversing.

Jason growled, “Leer at my girlfriend like that again, and I’ll put a bullet in each of your eyes.”

Jason wasn’t always around Conner, but when he was, he wasn’t very fond of him. Jason thought Conner was cocky and far to into himself. (Why couldn’t he hate himself like the rest of their generation did?) And if Jason were really being honest, he didn’t always like that people sometimes compared the two of them to each other. On the outside, they both looked like angry men who had mommy or daddy issues.

But Jason wasn’t some clone created in a lab by an evil genius. He was born and life struck him down every chance it got since.

Conner scoffed at the threat, “Did you forget I’m Kryptonian. As if your pathetic bullets could do anything to me.”

“Half-Kryptonian,” Jason corrected, and tilted of his head. “But don’t you worry, they’re Kryptonite bullets wrapped in lead. So you wouldn’t see it coming, would you?”

“Jason!” Bruce interrupted. “We do not threaten the Kents with Kryptonite!”

Clark had walked over as well, once he heard Conner and Jason going at it.

“He doesn’t have Kryptonite bullets,” Bruce tried to tell Clark gently, as if it would remedy the situation.

“Yeah, I do,” Jason countered lazily. When Bruce looked at him, Jason just shrugged. “What? Thought you were the only one who could hunt that shit down?”

“Comforting,” Clark hummed sarcastically.

Bruce cleared his throat and stepped to the side to reveal Diana.

Y/N had been subtly eyeing the two of them this whole time.

“Y/N, I believe you’re the only one who has yet to meet Diana,” Bruce told his daughter. “Y/N, this is Diana Prince. Diana, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Diana immediately stepped forward with a bright smile that lit up the manor. She was tall, just like Y/N. And she didn’t seem to let it stop her from wearing heels, just like Y/N.

Diana offered her hand with warmth and eagerness. “Bruce has told me so much about you, Y/N. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Y/N was speechless.

Why did this woman know so much about her and Y/N had never so much as heard her name before?

“Nice…to meet you,” Y/N finally managed to sputter out awkwardly.

If Diana noticed the lack of enthusiasm returned, she didn’t show it.

“If I didn’t know better,” Diana continued. “I would believe the rumors: she does look like an Amazon,” she glanced back at Bruce as she said it.

That’s when it clicked – why her face felt so familiar to Y/N.

This wasn’t just Diana Prince.

This was Wonder Woman.

Bruce’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he smirked back at Diana.

Oh.

Y/N looked around at everyone else. But no one seemed fazed by Bruce’s behavior towards this woman. Not even Lois, who often felt out of the loop with all of their loved one’s superhero lives – like Y/N.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Y/N mumbled before quickly walking away toward the bar.

She heard Jason on her heels.

“So, is alcohol going to make this worse or better?” Jason asked as he watched his girlfriend pour herself a double of tequila – no ice, no salt, or even lime juice.

“For me? Better.” She threw the shot back. “Don’t really care about everyone else right now.”

Jason wasn’t one to tell her to slow down. In fact, having his girlfriend wasted during this Thanksgiving dinner would just make it that much more entertaining. And he was not one to tell her what to do. He knew better.

“Are you going to join me or not?” Y/N snapped. “After all, you kind of owe it to me since you conveniently never told me that Bruce was in fucking love.”

Oop. There it was.

Jason was smart enough to look guilty and didn’t bother playing dumb. That never worked with Y/N.

So he took the shot of tequila from her and threw it back.

Alfred stepped into the den where everyone had ben congregating.

“Dinner is served,” he said politely, gesturing to the dining room the Waynes only used for special occasions.

Without waiting for him to finish, Y/N stormed past Jason and walked to the dining room with purpose.

“Fuck,” Jason sighed as he rubbed his face. “This should be interesting.”

He walked into the dining room to see that Damian had already sandwiched himself between Y/N and Jon. But the seat on the other side was open. Jason jumped into action when he saw Conner making his way to it.

With a light shove past him, Jason pulled out the chair to the left of Y/N and sat down. “You’re delusional,” he muttered to the superboy.

Conner just rolled his eyes and moved to the other side of the table.

Jon seemed very excited to be in the presence of Wonder Woman. Despite Superman being his literal dad, the boy seemed utterly unimpressed with his father – much to Clark’s disappointment. But once a dork, always a dork.

Jon asked his 10th rapid-fire question, “If Amazons aren’t born, how were they created?”

Diana took all the boy’s question seriously. “The goddesses decided to create a new race made entirely of female warriors from the souls of women who were killed by the hands of violent men.”

Lois finally interrupted her son before he could continue, “Jonathan, why don’t you let Diana relax and eat her food.” She gave Diana an apologetic look for good measure.

Jon took in a shaky breath and looked disappointed, but listened to his mother.

However, Diana seemed unperturbed by the boy’s excitement and appeared more than happy to humor his curiosity.

“Diana should be used to it,” Dick chimed in with a smirk on his lips. “Especially after having to deal with Jason…”

That caught Y/N’s attention.

Jason growled, “Oh, shut it, Dick.”

But Y/N was amused now. “No, please go on…”

Dick sat up straighter at the request, eyes bright with mischief and excitement. “Jason had the biggest crush on Diana when he was a kiddo.”

Jason gave Dick the biggest death glare Y/N had ever seen.

“Whenever Bruce brought him to League meetings, he’d follow her around like a little puppy. He even asked Bruce to take a picture of them when he first met her.”

“I remember that,” Diana commented with a fond smile.

Jason groaned.

“Clearly, he has a type,” Dick pointed out, looking between Diana and Y/N.

“OK. That’s enough,” Jason finally snapped.

Clark and Lois changed the subject, subtly saving Jason from further humiliation.

“Guess I have my Halloween costume for next year…” Y/N muttered into Jason’s ear so only he could hear.

But she didn’t take into account all the people with super hearing.

Jason choked on his turkey a bit, but recovered quickly.

Clark suddenly blushed, proving that he both her the couple and the sexual innuendo that Y/N had implied.

“So, Diana, how long have you known Bruce?” Y/N asked sweetly.

But everyone else at the table – beside Diana, Conner, and Jon –caught how much Y/N was playing it up. Some even shifted in their seats awkwardly.

Bruce eyed the full wine glass in Y/N’s hand, silently acknowledging that he’d noticed her heavy drinking that night.

But Y/N gave Bruce a look, daring him to say something about it.

“Well…” Diana looked at Bruce as if she needed help remembering. “We kept running into each other through…”

“Work,” Bruce finally offered.

Diana smiled. “Yes. Something like that.”

The two of them locked eyes just a little bit too long. And Y/N immediately caught it.

Just as her anger was rising, she felt Jason gently grip her thigh under the table, trying to calm her down and comfort her.

Y/N then asked, “Where do you usually spend Thanksgiving, Diana?”

It was more polite than asking, ‘Why are you here instead of with your own family?’

“Well, we do not exactly celebrate Thanksgiving in Themyscira. But it’s become one of my favorite holidays. Bruce didn’t want me to spend it alone, so he was kind enough to invite me to join all of you.”

With the amount of people at the dinner table, Y/N’s frustrations and pointed interest tin Diana were easily overlooked. With the chaos of so many conversations happening, no one seemed to get stuck on Y/N watching Bruce and Diana.

But Bruce felt Y/N’s energy. Maybe it was fatherly intuition.

The rest of dinner continued without much drama, just a bit of bickering from some of the boys. But that was nothing unusual. Y/N managed to control herself and not start a scene or express her emotions any more than she already accidentally had.

After dinner, Y/N had avoided the rest of the adults, not wanting to be forced to continue observing Bruce and Diana’a obvious relationship.

Instead, she sat playing Uno with Jon, Damian, and Conner.

Meanwhile, Jason was nerding out about literature with Lois.

As they continued playing cards, Damian caught his sister eyeing their father in the other room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Damian finally asked her bluntly.

Y/N snapped her gaze away from the couple. “W-What?”

“You’ve been short with father all night and you’re staring.”

“Do you not like Diana?” Jon asked with an upset frown.

“I like Diana,” Y/N quickly shut down, almost sounding exasperated.

Then her gaze moved to her brother. “None of this is new to any of you. They’ve been like this for awhile.”

It was mean to come out as a question, but Y/N already knew the answer: everyone in their family knew about Bruce falling in love.

Well, everyone except her.

Damian shrugged. “They’ve been…involved for awhile.”

“Awesome,” she answered sarcastically.

“It’s not as if father discussed it with any of us,” Damian tried to defend. “It was just rather obvious.”

“So everyone’s known about this…except me,” Y/N muttered quietly.

But Damian caught the anger in her eyes.

“How long?” She asked.

“What?”

“How long has this been going on?”

Damian shrugged. “I don’t know. Six months? But they’ve always flirted with one another. It’s disgusting.”

The next second, Conner won that round of cards.

“Alright, kiddos,” Y/N sighed as she got up. “I’m out.”

“You’re leaving?” Damian blurted out, catching Jason’s attention.

“Yep.”

Damian quickly stood. “But we haven’t even had pie yet!”

Jason moved to his girlfriend’s side, reading that she needed out. “She doesn’t really like pie, Demond Spawn.”

“Who doesn’t love pie!?” Jon cried out in shock.

Y/N and Jason started saying their goodbyes to everyone, giving warm hugs. And they purposely avoided Bruce and Diana until the end.

Jason immediately saw Y/N’s posture shift. He recognized it all too well. He had been on the receiving end of such coldness a few times before – and mostly he was just relieved not to be this time around.

Y/N forced a polite smile at Diana. “It was nice meeting you, Diana.”

But she didn’t step forward to offer a hug like she had with the rest of them.

Diana didn’t seem to mind. She was smart enough to pick up on the strange tension between Bruce and his daughter.

So she simply answered with, “It was nice meeting you, too.”

Y/N then shifted her gaze to her father. But it wasn’t really a gaze anymore, but a cold and harsh glare. “Thanks for having us,” she told Bruce evenly, no warmth to be found.

Y/N walked away before Bruce even had a chance to answer.

Diana gave him a sympathetic look.

Jason was left alone with the couple now and glared at Bruce. “You couldn’t give her a heads up?”

Bruce said nothing, which only made Jason angrier.

“Today was already tough for her. It’s the first thanksgiving she’s spent without her mom. But you probably didn’t even realize that.” He scoffed, “Typical.”

But his eyes softened when they moved to Diana and Jason gave her a quick hug. “Nice seeing you, Diana.”

Then he was gone, too.

Diana crossed her arms and faced her boyfriend. “I take it you never told Y/N about us.”

Bruce shifted his weight and his head bowed a bit. “No. I did not.”

“Bruce,” Diana sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

——————

2 Weeks Later...

Y/N was driving Damian back to the manor. The two of them had decided to go see a new exhibit at Gotham’s Museum of Art.

“Are you still mad at father?” Damian asked while they listened to his favorite classical music.

Y/N sighed.

Damian had been distracted enough by all the art and getting to spend time alone with his sister that the tension from Thanksgiving hadn’t been brought up. Until now.

Jason had been treading carefully, as well.

“I didn’t know he hadn’t said anything to you. Honestly. It had just – I don’t know – become the norm for the rest of us, that I didn’t even think to bring it up,” he had insisted during the drive home after the strange Thanksgiving dinner.

Y/N had answered back, “I’m not mad at you, Jason. It’s not your job to give me updates on Bruce’s personal life.” And she had been sincere – furthermore, that extended to everyone else that had known about Bruce and Diana’s relationship.

“A little bit, yeah,” Y/N finally admitted to Damian after thinking about her answer for a few seconds.

“I think Dick may have said something to him,” he told her. “Jason’s just been mean.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” When Y/N was upset, Jason was upset. And if he knew the person who hurt her, he would go out of his way to torment them.

They pulled up to the main entrance of the manor.

“Pennyworth told me he has pastries for you and Jason,” Damian explained, clearly have been forced to relay the message.

Y/N sighed, but smiled, putting her car in park and turning off the ignition.

She followed her brother up the steps to the front door, to which he had keys for.

But just as he opened the door, Diana was leaving.

“Oh…hi,” Y/N blurted out while Damian moved around her with a simple, “Hi.”

The two women were left alone in awkward silence.

“I owe you an apology,” Y/N finally said softly. “For being rude to you on Thanksgiving. I was upset but it may have been misdirected.”

Diana gave her a sympathetic look. “No apology needed. After I realized Bruce had not told you about us, I truly believe your reaction was justified.”

Y/N finally relaxed. “Thank you for…understanding.”

Diana stepped a little closer and lowered her voice. “I think he wishes to speak with you.”

She sighed. “I’m sure he does. I have a knack for making him feel bad.”

Diana laughed. “I think you and I have that in common.” She stood up straight again. “It was nice seeing you again, Y/N. I hope we can get to know each other more now.”

Y/N smiled. “I would like that, yeah.”

And with that, she was gone.

Y/N tried to walk quietly to the kitchen. Her plan was to grab Alfred's pastries and get out of there. While she had no beef with Diana, she was still frustrated with Bruce.

The universe clearly had other plans, since Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Bruce eating a late lunch.

“Is there even any pastries?” Y/N asked. "I feel like I’ve been conned.”

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk at his daughter. “Alfred has many talents. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Then he got up and handed her a glass container with her and Jason’s name on it.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Bruce continued.

Y/N sighed. “Yeah, I could tell by all the phone calls and texts.”

“And the reason for not answering those?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I was mad at you and being petty.”

“And are you still mad at me?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Bruce took in a deep breath. “I should have told you about Diana.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Y/N spat back.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

That was the wrong thing for him to say.

“See, now that’s bullshit, Bruce.”

He seemed taken aback by her response.

Y/N crossed her arms in defiance. “Because you’re always thinking. You’ve always got a plan. And you don’t do anything without intention. So you were thinking.”

“You’re right,” Bruce confessed.

“I know I’m right,” she shot back. “Do you have any idea how it made me feel to see that everyone knew about you and her, except me?”

Bruce stayed quiet. Because he didn’t know.

“I’m not a vigilante, Bruce! You and Jason have kept me away from that part of all your lives – and I’ve respected that. But Batman is so much of you, despite all of us trying to prevent that.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not mad that you’re dating Diana, Bruce. I’m mad that it’s one of the few things about your life that you can share with me and you decided you didn’t need to – or want to – honestly, I don’t even know anymore.”

“You’re right, Y/N. And I’m sorry,” Bruce finally said. “If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have said anything to the boys either. Clearly they figured it out since they saw it happening in real time. But that’s not an excuse for blindsiding you like I did.”

Y/N took in a deep breath, trying to figure out if she should ream him further or let it go.

“Jason told me you were already upset before coming to Thanksgiving.” Bruce’s voice was gently. “Missing your mom.”

That took Y/N by surprise. “Umm…Yeah. I always miss her…but the holidays are…rougher than I expected, I guess.”

“Y/N… you know, you can talk to me about her. I might not have seen her in quite some time before she passed. But I still knew and cared for your mother.”

Y/N knew Bruce was right. He was one of the few people in her life who knew her mother. And maybe it would be nice to remember her with someone who also knows just how amazing she was.

Y/N was getting emotional as she thought about it, so she just nodded to his offer. And then she realized that wasn’t enough and pushed forward to give her father a hug.

“Think Jason will ease up on the animosity now?” Bruce asked as he hugged her, causing Y/N to laugh.

She could only imagine the rude comments and sass Jason had been giving Bruce during patrols.

She pulled away with a smile. “I honestly don’t know. He gets a kick out of it. And you know how overprotective he is with me. But I’ll do what I can.”

–––––––––

Please let me write me a book report. I need it.

[screampied]

‘ THAT [ GIRL ] IS MINE ! ,

ᡴꪫ sum. university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), booty call, unprotected, size kink, praise, fıngering, cunnılingus (toji eating it from the back), degredation, dumbification, toji's very whipped for you, overstim, squırting.

an. this is the last chapter WOOOOO. thank you to everyone who read dbf! toji. may he return somedayy

girl, are you fucking stupid?

a simple question you couldn’t answer as if your life depended on it. if only you knew the deep consequences you’d face by having some careless fun on spring break. oh, but it’s just a one time thing, it’s just a little fling that won’t mean anything once april’s over. you continue to keep reminding yourself that every time you were with him. toji fushiguro—your father’s sleazy best friend, the guy who was about eight years older than your twenty-two year old self, the guy who was shameless, the guy who literally fingered you underneath the table during dinner, same said guy who makes you clean off his fingers with your tongue like the good obedient girl you were.

maybe you are fucking stupid,

spring break was coming to its inevitable end, meaning it’d be the end of your little fling with mr. fushiguro. oh and you did get caught, your father knows— but let’s not focus on that part, let’s focus on the part on how you were questioning yourself. was this love or just a game? surely it couldn’t be love, ew. toji himself said that he can’t stand relationships. you yourself was too busy with being a studious university student to even consider a significant other. so… what exactly was this peculiar feeling? a good description was a weird stir in your stomach, especially whenever he’s lay his eyes on you. alas, maybe instead of love, the feeling was entirely different.

you know what they say about karma though, it always catches up to you in the long run. oops..?

it was about three thirty in the morning. you were tossing and turning in your sleep. birds could just about be heard outside your window, chirping and chirping away. with an exaggerated sigh, you stare into the beige drywall that coats against your ceiling for a long, long time. no matter how much you tried to delay the inevitable—you had to get up, you just had to get it off your chest.

you should probably not keep this yourself..

but you pondered deeply at what his reaction might be— would he feel the same way, or would he hate you and turn a cold eye … ?

just thinking about it for such a long duration of a time made your stomach churn. at the same time though, whenever you thought about toji for too long . . that happened. you’d get aroused, having your pretty little panties in a twist.

you still question just how your father and him even met. a guy like toji isn’t really a guy you’d stumble across everyday. he mentioned to you on how he was gambling at boat races—you believed that, but still, you always did wanna know more about him.

toji was a very private man though, nothing wrong with that.

you couldn’t help but be a little curious about the man you’ve been screwing with for the past thirteen days now. thirteen days felt more like thirteen long consecutive weeks. like most, your break was supposed to only last five days to a week. it only ended up getting extended because of some kind of altercation at your campus. albeit, you didn’t ever want it to end,

but all good things do come to an end, right?

reaching for your phone, you decide to text him— you didn’t exactly expect a reply despite it being so late but still, you unlock your phone before scrolling for his contact..

< 69 Toji Fushiguro 🎥 >

Today 3:27 AM

hi toji.

u up?

• • •

Yo

Yea. Just woke up actually. Why?

lol no reason, i can’t sleep.

i miss u and i need to tell you smth

Oh?

Fuck I miss ya too, girl.

Come over then. you still got my location?

yeah be there in a bit xx

Read 3:29

locking your phone again, you take a quick thorough six minute shower. toji missed you just as much as you missed him— it’s been about a day or two or three that’s passed, of course you two wouldn’t be able to see each other every day.

it was mostly every other day. with spring break coming to a crashing depressing end, this would all be the end of your little spring season fling.

damn.

the drive to toji’s apartment was about maybe nine minutes from you. not exactly far, you’d have him come over to yours but you forgot that your father was literally next door to you. he’s already aware of what was taken place at his own home but again, let’s not focus on that part of the story.

at least not yet.. or ever,

you threw on a simple ample outfit, one of your oversized university hoodies and some leggings. something homely, something comfortable.

the weather was actually pretty decent, a bit humid but not exactly too cold either.

once you arrive at toji’s surprisingly well kept apartment, he met up with you at the door with that same smug grin. “….hey,” is all he says, eyes staring down your body for a while. you take the chance to ogle at him too. even with it being the middle of the night, he still looked handsome. with dark black hair of his a bit ruffled, toji had on nothing but obsidian black colored shorts and a white tee. his muscles, you always did feen over his mammoth-like jacked muscles. he was so toned— a lot taller than you, the epitome of what a real man was. “how was the drive? drive okay?”

“it was okay,” you mutter, stepping into his apartment. he’s holding a half empty can of cheap off brand booze, locking the door behind you as you take in the scenery. you feel a bit of butterflies rummage throughout your tummy as he slings an arm around you. it was like each time you’d meet with him again, he’d get more and more affectionate towards you. facing him, you had a cute abashed smile. “you look sleepy. did i wake you?”

“nah,” he firmly shakes his head, placing his empty can aside. toji takes off the thin coat you wore over your hoodie before hanging it up on the nearby rack for you. “i was ‘bout ‘ta get ready for work but then ya texted me.”

work.

toji never did tell you what he does for a living.

your eyebrows slightly raise. “wha— why? i can wait, just go to work.”

“dollface, really. it’s fine,” he chuckles, his voice a rough low. he leads you towards his bedroom, the bed wasn’t made up although it smelled a lot like him in here. a cheap musk of cologne fills through your nose as you sit down on his bed beside him. toji stretches, the veins in his forearms exposing ever so slightly and it’s so hot. “besides, didn’t feel like clockin’ in anyway. still gotta finish my taxes.”

“oh,” you mumble, completely lost in his gaze as he continues to speak. toji notices you staring and he smirks.

playfully, he pokes at your forehead, a teasing flick with two fingers to snap you out of whatever trance you were in. “. . soooooooo,” toji hums in a raspy pitched tone. his fingers that went against your skin was abnormally warm. “what did you wanna talk ‘ta me about?”

right, that..

suddenly, you felt your thighs squeeze together. toji’s staring at you, awaiting for a response and whilst you smother your glossed lips together, you rub the back of your neck. “oh, it can wait. it’s not that important,” damn, if looks could kill, you’d be screwed. dark green irises focus on your lips, then your eyes before back towards your pursed up lips. toji was quite familiar with your awkward body language, you lean up close to him before dragging a finger down his chest. so sensually, “like i said though, i missed you toji. i go back home tomorrow.”

“you’re lying, doll,” he whispers, letting your finger run down the middle part of his chest. a few bristles of chest hair pokes through his white tank before he raises a brow. “but fine,” and he grabs you to sit right on his lap. instinctively, your arms wrap around his broad neck. the closer you got, the more you got a good whiff of him. his cologne was so strong, it made you dizzy. “i missed ya more. and that’s right, y’er spring break’s ‘bout to end,” and you almost moan at feeling his clammy hands squeeze against your thighs. “excited to go back?”

“no,” you grumble, a grouse hiding underneath your tone. he slyly smiles, a thumb skimming against your skin. “i don’t wanna leave yet.”

“well girl then jus’ stay,” he rolls his eyes, forever a sassy, sassy man. “and, i find it kinda amusing. the whole point of your spring break was to visit your father ‘n you basically spent it all with me,” and his eyes run down your body, pulling you up close to kiss the outside of your neck. “ain’t complainin’ though.”

you pout, he had a point. “i can’t stay, my campus is like five hours away,” and you moan a bit from the softness of his lips meeting against your tender skin. “maybe.. you could visit me though.”

“eh. we’ll see.”

moments pass before you find yourself making out with toji. it lasts for a good while, ten precise minutes exactly. his hands free-for-all all over your body, the warmth of his hot breath goes against yours. the bitter taste of rich booze lingers on his breath, it’s chemically and it almost burns, yet it’s addictive. toji’s taste alone was addictive. you moan, feeling him ghost a big hand between your thighs to locate your arising heat. your leggings could only conceal your arousal for so long. his eyes were barely open, half-lidded as another hand travels up your hoodie. stubby fingers of his drag against your skin in such a way that you couldn’t help but grind against his lap.

toji grunts, deepening the passionate kiss—his tongue was so sweet, occasionally sucking against yours. perhaps he did miss you more than you missed him. with his head slightly cocked back to a certain angle, you start to hear and feel your own breaths shudder.

everything was going so fast yet slow, he parts his lips a bit further before you feel a hand of his reach all the way down between your legs. after a while of mashing teeth and sucking against tongues together, he pulls away. “y’er still as nasty as i remember. walkin’ around with no fuckin’ panties, huh?”

“nasty for you,” you whine, feeling his rough hands tug all over your body. swiftly, a hand snakes underneath your thighs. he runs a single thumb down your soaked slit and he guffaws. with a sly grin, he leans in to kiss more against your neck. so tender, he knew all the right spots to make you whimper out and squirm. his balmy hot breath resuming to collide against your skin made you bite your lip, an arm still throwing around his neck. “you don’t like me wearing panties anyway.”

“well yeah,” he sneers, his touch going further against your pre-soaked clit. you were already a bit drenched and he hums. “i steal them from ya regardless. my ‘lil souvenir. besides, what’s the point of wearin’ those things when y’er always this fuckin’ soaked.”

you moan, feeling him insert a single finger inside. his fingers were always so thick, stretching you out probably even better than his dick ever could. almost as if your entrance was elastic with how good it stretches. it’s his middle finger, then it sporadically turns into two— two thickset fingers prodding inside your slick heat.

you coat his digits so well with your syrupy arousal, he glances at you with a simper as you clamp around them both at once. “you get more nastier for me every time,” he murmurs, slowly swirling his fingers inside you. you’re clinging onto his neck tightly, feeling that strain in your lungs drag out as you pant. “drivin’ around this wet, girl i ‘oughta spank ya.”

“do it then.”

he glares at you before you gasp. toji lightly shoves you into the bed and you flop down, uttering out a soft ‘oof.’ landing on the sound mounds of your chest, he yanks down your leggings fully before meanly kissing the right cheek of your ass with his palm. “do it then,” he mocks you, pitching his naturally gruff tone to your own. “shut the fuck up,” and the sting feels good, his fingers were now out of you and again, you pout. clamping around nothing now, you were quite really just arched over his bare knee. “have ya been touchin’ y’erself lately? tell me.”

“no,” you lie, and that earns another spank— you moan out, the feeling of his palm was so hot at first touch. quite literally, the sting made you twinge before you grip onto his bulky thighs. “haven’t touched myself, swear.”

“oh bye, don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” toji mutters, and you’re just dangling over his knee.

occasionally, the coolish air against his room would waft right against your skin. “known ya for a good what, two weeks? i can tell y’er lying,” and the way his voice pitches— it’s so rough, gravelly.

the baritone in his voice never fails to make you wet, so deep. you didn’t really know a good way to describe toji’s voice, all you knew was that it was raspy as hell. heavily and utterly raspy to the point where even him whispering against your ear was enough to have you drenched. “don’t like ya touchin’ her when ‘m not around,” he clicks his tongue, caressing your bare stinging ass. you’re panting, aching for him to just hurry up, to do something. toji cackles, noticing from how impatient you were simply from your body language. “aw. am i talkin’ too much for the pretty girl? you bein’ over my knee not enough to satisfy ya?”

you sigh, wriggling your ass a bit and he spanks it again just to watch the recoil bounce against your skin.

“t— tojiiii. just fuck me already.” you grumble, you didn’t really care how whiny you sounded.

it was late at night and you were horny. that was for sure pretty much all you knew. besides, despite it being about two to three days since you last saw him, yeah.. maybe that wasn’t even long of an absence— but you did kind of miss toji.

more importantly, you missed his little friend between his legs.

“i’ll fuck ya when i wanna,” he gruffs. you whine once he sprawls your legs open a bit more. toji stares at your ass, spreading them to see your sloppy cunt opening for him. a sweet little meet and greet. so wet, you’re still laid over his lap before he leans down. “shh. listen to her,” is all he says. whilst he’s inching his face closer, two exact seconds later you feel toji’s saliva trickle into your pulsating entrance. oh. he spat on your pussy, he was quite direct with it too. he then gathers a long stringy wad of gossamer-like spit before spitting it right between your swollen folds. you bite your lip hard, forgetting how much of a nasty man he was. “yeah she’s missed the fuck outta me.”

toji was purely fluent in pussy talk. it was common for him. he’d always refuse to your cunt as ‘she’ as if she had a name or something.

no shame, shameless— toji brings a thumb towards your clit, rubbing against it just so you could hear the squelches you made yourself.

“you used a toy, baby?” he hums, sliding his tongue against his lips, against the scar that slants against his skin oh-so-sexily..

“y-yeah,” you whimper, the coldness of his saliva making you shudder within his hold. your breathing became more rapid as you tighten the hold on his legs. “magic wand. i jus’ wanted to try it.”

“tch… magic fuckin’ wand,” he snarls, actually sounding quite offended.

continuing to drag and skim his fat thumb down your slit, you mewl out. you’re effortlessly soaking his single slender digit with such sheeny amounts of your sweet. “bet ya didn’t even know what the fuck you were doin.’ how long it take ‘ta make you finish?”

you’re panting now, trying to recall your lewd moments with your sweet beloved hitachi, it was expensive too.

you bought it from some shady link online, one of your friends recommended it to you so you shrugged it off, saying why not. besides, you hardly ever have time to play with yourself anyway. even more now that you had toji.

“like … maybe thirty minutes.” you exhale deeply, the fast paced strokes of his fingers making your eyes almost roll back. so so good, all he was really doing was skimming his fingers against your sopping wet entrance— barely even doing anything, yet you were still a mess.

toji chuckles, making you get off his lap before laying you face first on the mattress. he grabs your waist, pulling your ass upward to stick out before he gets up close for a nice direct view. “aw. thirty minutes? thirty minutes when it can only take me five with my tongue?”

“f-fuckkk.” you start to babble, his warm breath fanning all against your exposed cunt.

it cools against your skin, sending each nerve that resides inside of your entrance to spiral uncontrollably. toji had you arched all over, arched over like some slut.

to be fair, if the shoe fits you might as well wear it.

“dunno if ya deserve to be eaten out,” he speaks in a low undertone. your dilated pupils roll way back at his simple touch.

he teasingly brings his tongue towards your pussy, it’s retting, sloppily so. toji drags two fingers and you eagerly coat his digits with such salaciously, lewd arousal. “mhm. look at that, fuckin’ drenched. my favorite waterpark,” and he spits against your folds once more before snickering darkly. “jus’ thinkin’ you used those useless hands on this pretty pussy makes me ill.”

oh, you’re about to lose it..

he was stalling, more talking and less eating.

instead, it should have been vice versa.

you’re a mover, writhing in his lap, still hunched over with a cute arch before he spanks your ass.

“little girl, cut that shit out,” he grunts and abruptly, you feel the coldness of his flat tongue finally lap against your pussy.

immensely, your mouth forms into an ‘o’. if it was anything toji fushiguro knew how to do well, it was that he knew how to eat.

he ate you out like it was the end of the fucking world, as if your pussy was the only food remaining left in stock.

you gnaw on your bottom lip further, gasping once he wastes no time to dig in.

. . slow slow sluuuurps,

he makes sure you hear how wet you were on his mouth. just downright filthy, his tongue lays itself flat before he nibbles all against your throbbing clit.

“o-oh my god, toji, hngh,” you’d babble out in pathetic sweet sobs. with his tongue scrapping against your entrance, creating suction with his mouth had you stupid.

as your maw dramatically drops, he’s eating you from the back. there’s a concise dull moment where he pauses. with big two rough hands, he spreads your ass open fully. “f-fuuuck.” you moan, feeling him blow his warm breath all against your puffed folds.

from behind, you hear his sexy low titter before he resumes—yet this time, he lolls his pink tongue all the way out, so fucking long..

and as he does, he licks from the very bottom of your cunt until he’s reaching near your puckering hole— he’s never acknowledged that spot before, your ass.

your eyes widen, a clamoring gasp exits from your lips before he spits against it, lathering his tongue everywhere. he likes it wet, more importantly though, he likes it nasty.

“arch that back more for me, bend girl, bend,” he coos in a muffled tone— purely speaking with his mouth full. his stubble tickles against your pussy and your back voluntarily moves itself forward. a curve, he found it so appealing,

so . . amusing.

“there mphm we go baby, good girl. keep that head on the bed. ‘m fuckin’ starved.”

you’re clinging tight onto one of toji’s satin covered pillows, feeling his tongue roam everywhere. it knew no bounds. your heart starts to race at a more rapid speed the second he sneakily dips his tongue back into your needy clit.

he passionately sucks against the clitoral hood before using a hand to smack your ass every single time you squirm.

after about probably the nth time of his lewd escapades with his tongue, he starts to prod his calloused fingertips near your entrance once more. his fingers featuring his tongue, oh you were really no match.

“imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonna—”

“mhm, bet ya are,” he rasps, a deep chuckle dragging out of his throat.

the way your body responds to him was so cute. “keep that ass up ‘n y’er face down,” he orders, earning another vicious smack on the rear from him. you’re moaning, feeling yourself start to spasm. toji occasionally breaks his lips away to kiss near your ankle, your thighs, anywhere but your cunt and he knows how much you hated that.

the teasing— he’d purposely stop just to move his lips elsewhere, watching you fidget in such obscene anticipation. “don’t fuckin’ cum yet.”

“but—”

“but shit. you heard me,” he groans, bringing his mouth back towards between your legs. you whine, feeling him roll out his tongue before slurping up such a good amount of your syrupy taste.

with your toes curling, stomach seizing, you couldn’t stop shaking.

so damn good, his buttony nose rubs against your folds and it tickles for a split second. the stimulation has your mind going for a loop, you even slip your hands underneath your sweatshirt just to touch on your sensitive perky nipples. “wait for me. hold it, yeah.”

but of course, you didn’t listen,

your body had other plans.

it was inevitable, your orgasm ignored toji anyway, you’re ponderously throbbing.

the pulse between your thighs only grow more briskly before you realize you’re drooling all over his bedsheets.

oh, the feeling felt so delicious, your jaw remains open and you feel so much pressure. so much, his tongue still grazes against your slit before you shriek out, gasping for whatever air was left. it was quick, very very quick.

it’s speed..

it’s tempo was like lightning speed—a bolt that flashes within a blink of an eye, concentric circles steadily building up within your lower abdomen pooling up with heat before it just snaps,

you came.

“o-oh fuck, f-fuuuck, toji,”

suddenly, the room grows quiet. you knew toji didn’t like for you to finish early—especially finishing after he tells you to wait, but oh well.

you couldn’t help it, and the orgasm he just gave you was so good, mouth watering. with weak legs that could barely stand up it’s on own, you inhale a single sharp breath before you’re flipped over quickly.

“the fuck did i just tell you?”

“s-sorry,” you giggle, sprawled all on his bed. your eyes immediately meet the gaze of his shorts, they were half on. he’s got a bulge going on, a hard one at that. his black boxers briefly stick out and it’s so attractive—you catch a glimpse of his happy trail from his tank top that was pulled up just a bit, exposing a bit of his skin. sharp v-line, slim snatched waist.

slut..

god, he was so jacked. the more you stare at his sculptured body, the more you fantasized about how he could just toss you around the—

“oh, is somethin’ funny to you?” he utters lowly, and his tone— he sounds ticked off, he’s barely even raising his tone, projecting it but you still hear the slight rasp to it. you just got even more soaked. “was gonna let ya ride me but i don’t wanna stare at a brat right now.”

“h-huh?” you reply, and then your face was met against the plush mattress again.

you lewdly mewl out a whimper once he spanks your ass, a hand grabbing onto your hip.

“don’t act like ya can’t here me, girl. bring that ass up a bit more,” and you gasp, feeling him drag your hips a bit closer towards his slim waist. “yeah.” he breathes, having a gentle yet firm grip on you.

rough coarse fingertips glide up against your own hips as you feel him take a second to align himself. fuck, you missed this.

you missed him.

in the midst of toji already pulling down his shorts and boxers— he then grabs ahold of his thick cock, giving it a few solid strokes.

he was so hard, leaky tip glistening with pre that he wished he made you lick the top off.

but it was far too late, he just wanted to be inside, just as much as you wanted him inside. the crown of his cock was so fat, even with toji being slow to ease himself inside, he’s still practically splitting you open.

“shit, i missed this,” he grunts in a hoarse tone whilst he’s going inside you.

“f-fuck,” you bawl up the creamy white sheets into your fists.

you almost forgot just how big he was, despite it only being a good three days without feeling him stretch you out.

toji groans, feeling the subtle tightness of your walls adjust to him like always— it usually lasts a second or two. he’s furthering himself in, already about to bottom out.

he’s already niiice and snug. a perfect fit,

every. single. time.

toji rarely does doggy with you because he prefers staring at your face— solely to make fun of your little facial expressions. but whenever you were bent over for him on all fours, it was simply an experience you never wanted to end. “oh fuck m-me,” you croak, feeling him yank harshly against the hood of your hoodie. you bump back against him and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to create an unkempt, sloppy pace.

it was rhythmic, he starts off slow before strenuously pounding into you.

churning up your sweet savory insides like butter, you clamp around him so good that it makes his abs tense up. “mhm,” he tugs tighter against the fabric that was thrown over you from the torso up. dark eyes of his flicker toward your ass, each time he moves, your ass moves.

in full compatibility, the sheer skin slaps was brutal. your head was spinning like a merri-go-‘round, strained inhales pulling your heaving lungs every few milliseconds. “. . girl,” toji groans, and you moan once he gives your ass a spank again for probably the umpteenth time today. his voice, every syllable he drags out in that deep hoarsely voice of his had you so soaked. “fuck back against me, c’mon. ‘s a two way street, baby.”

“y-you’re so fuckin’ big though,” you whine, pawing into the soft cushions of his comforter.

“awww,” he utters in a faux, sympathetic tone.

he leans against you, so close to where he’s basically in prone bone— no more doggy.

he’s so deep that the tip of his dick prods all against your secluded g-spot. toji’s hefty weight hovers against your bare ass and you moan melodically. “i’m big, yeah?” and a colossal, veiny hand of his wraps around your throat. gentle, barely any pressure but a good amount to make you whine again. “but y’er doin’ so good, was jus’ about to praise you but you don’t want praises, huh,” and you’re falling in love time and time again with his sensual yet reckless rhythm. the way the bed rocks and shakes in harmony, you’re at a lost of words.

speechless, breathless, every -less word by this point.

he was hitting you so deep, every angle.

so thorough,

his hips were sharp— your moans grow louder the moment he gets right up against you, a hand gripping into your hair rigidly. mercilessly, a hand lightly digs into your scalp as he’s holding your head up. toji’s damn near balls deep now, making sure you feel every consecutive thrust. “some nerve, textin’ me at three am just to fuck this sloppy cunt,” and his hot breath fans against your neck. you whine once you feel his tongue slide against your sensitive collarbone. so deep—you were sure he’s just jackhammering his cock into you by this point. each movement was pivotal, he was precise with the way his hips snapped against you. whiplash got you good, you’re currently just a babbling mess listening to his crude words. “but i bet ‘s more than that, yeah? you wanted to tell me somethin’ so just tell me.”

“n-not yet,” a sweet moan dies out your throat.

toji rolls his eyes— this girl, he’s thinking in his head. you were testing his patience, a stubborn little thing. one of the many things he’s liked about you. “fuck, h-harder toji. harder.”

“sloooow? i can do slow,” he replies in a deriding tone, and his deep thrusts turn into satirical unserious, slow pumps. you whine, he lets go of your hair and you just plop down on your chest. he knew what you wanted, he knew how you liked to be fucked, and yet he was just being a tease.

toji fucking fushiguro for you.

he’s always been rough with you, treating you like nothing more than a mere rag doll at times. there’s been sweet affectionate moments too, rarely, but it has its moments.

toji’s infatuation with you only grows, the more he spends time with you the more he even starts to question himself.

you’ve got him whipped.. precisely with your pussy, yes, but whipped in another way completely. he didn’t know how to describe it, mainly because it was nothing to describe,

indescribable.

he couldn’t put anything to words—especially whenever he was deep in your guts, mashing your cunt around with his cock like homemade dough. kneading it with his tip,

stretch, mold, ply, repeat..

he’s doing all that with his dick. he sucks his teeth, a tsk escapes from his mouth before he spanks your ass— bringing you right back to reality.

“fuckin’ gonna milk the shit out of me,” he groans, his hips all sloppy and vigorous.

toji’s so close to you that by now, he brings a foot up to press against the back of your neck. you gasp, really feeling just how deep he was inside your cunt.

the wool of his sock presses against your neck as your face was smushed against the satiny sheets. “mhm, that’s it girl, take it. take that shit. milk my fuckin’ cock, fuuuck.”

his groans get louder, you’re so wet it’s ludicrously sloshing against him and you’re all doe-eyed and dumb.

emphasis on dumb, not a single thought was embedded into your brain.

as his hips keenly buck against you, you’re breathing shallowly, trying to keep a good momentum against him before you whine.

you were close again, yet this time— something else was approaching,

something more . . provocative.

your legs shake and shake, your jaw aches from how much your teeth is shattering amongst each other before you feel him grab onto your wrist.

he pins it behind your back whilst he’s still fucking you raw.

broad, clammy hands of his roam down your voluptuous body, taking in to snag a feel of your curves, your pretty physique, everything..

beads of sweat droplets start to race down the sides of toji’s naturally dark brows— he huffs and puffs, the girth of his dick only stretching out inside of you even further.

you’re a babbling mess, the arch in your back was so cute that it makes him throb. you feel the throb that lingers from his dick, it pulsates at such a meteoric pace that it has you pulsing in response.

“where do ya want it,” he grumbles with a soft vexing pout on his lips. toji was trying his best to maintain composure—but he was flustered, the more he leers down your back, down your pretty structured spine, the more he’s starting to adapt this unexplainable feeling. “best fuckin’ tell m—”

“inside,” you purr out, your voice all strained and a raucous from the immense amounts of moans that left your throat. “i-inside, wanna feel you again, ‘n again, ‘again..”

toji snickers, swiping a tongue against his lips before he slows himself down for you to adjust.

you’re preparing to finish with him— he coos right up against your ear, sticking two fingers in your mouth. “finish with me, princess. ‘m givin’ you this one chance,” and he deepens his voice all the way down, balls so deep inside that you feel a faint gape stretch you whole.

you’re compressing him down tight with your gummy walls before you feel the slimy friction of pure sweat sticking against your own skin. “you gonna be a good girl ‘n cum on my cock? or a bad girl who’s not even listenin’ to a damn thing ‘m saying.. ?”

“c-cum, toji, mphm,” you choke out a sweet desperate wail, feeling one of his bulky arms wrap around your torso. “wanna cum.”

as you spoke, your words were merely muffled from his thick digits shoving inside of your sloppy, needy mouth. his warmth, once it skids against your skin, it never ever leaves.

you think you’re about to cum but instead, you gush out.

violently, electricity courses through your veins. vibration after vibration pulses throughout your body and you’re hysterical,

it’s so abrupt, so intense..

you’re squirting, coating his dick with your honeydew arousal from the base down.

he chuckles at your body’s initial response, how you’re finding it impossible to stay still. you’re clenching around his shaft still, mouth all open, eyes wide as big as restaurant saucers.

swooning, you’re swooning from his length and that’s when you whimper once he groans right in your ear.

the raspiness, it’s got you drenched— drenched like a faucet, the sensation was beyond pleasurable.

toji ends up following seconds after, it hits him harder. like a truck, it comes at full speed before you’re met with such absurd milky ropes of his seed. it shoots out quick, but it’s thick. you get quiet, hearing the sloshing spurts trickle its way inside of you. “f-fuck,” he stutters, a shaky breath following as he slides his fingers out of your mouth. a trailing glimmering cobweb of your own spit drags from his two fingers as he’s dumping knots and knots of cum into your sweet, starving cunt. “saved so much f’r you, feel it deep ‘n y’er womb, doll?”

“y-yes.” you swallow, a multitude of moans emit from you before he slowly pulls out.

oh, the sight of it all. one of toji’s favorite parts was to simply gawk at the mess he created, taking in the mess he made you.

a messy girl.

the messiest, your chest feels tight and you’re heaving.

he licks his lips, staring at your ass with hazy eyes. his own cum oozes out of your hole and he just wants to lick it, plug it back into you and give you another thick load.

that’ll come soon enough— as much as he had stamina equivalent to a near stallion, he needed a little break. his chest felt like it was about to explode.

“fuck,” he collapses against his side of the bed, reaching towards his thigh to scratch it.

as if on instinct, you crawl towards him, an arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer. your head presses against his chest. you hear his rapid heart beat and he murmurs out a husky, “good girl,” and he leans in to kiss the crown of your head. “gimme a minute though. ‘m not as young as i used to be, y’know.”

you giggle, a simper stretching across your face as the time passes.

instantaneously, it gets quiet for a moment before you suddenly remember why you even came here . . for one last time.

“toji,” you utter, attempting to catch your breath.

you were still heaving with lungs full of build up oxygen, panting a bit before he glances down at you with that unreadable, naturally stern expression.

a hand of yours strums down his pecs seductively, playing with the curly chest hair that remains stuck against his skin. “i’ll um . . tell you what i wanted to say earlier.”

“let me go first.”

with your eyebrows slightly furrowing, you glance up at him and he stares up at the ceiling before back at you. “about a week back, at y’er dad’s place, i told ya i loved you,” and his breath hitches for a moment— even saying something as sentimental as that made him cringe.

you figure he was being serious though because his sudden eye contact never left yours. “you never gave me an answer back.”

“. . . oh,” you sheepishly say, remembering the exact encounter he was referring to. you then lean up to toji, gingerly planting your lips against the right side of his mouth where his tender scar resides. “you didn’t hear me? i said i love you too, toji.”

his chest feels all warm and mushy, you love him?

“you do?” he replies, being taken aback. this entire situation was messy as is, but again, they do say the heart knows what it wants.

you nod, repeating yourself before pulling him into a quick three second kiss. “i love you, toji.”

. . .

. . . is what he thought you was gonna say.

far from it actually, you’re sat in the passenger seat of toji’s car before you lightly tap him on the shoulder. he’s parked, slouched back against his seat before he snaps out of his erotic phantasm. he was dropping you off back home,

oh right.

home.

“toji? did you even hear a word i just said?”

“huh? yeah, you said you loved me too.”

“no … i didn’t. what?” you scrunch up your face, the most perplexed expression of all.

that was nothing you said, with a sheepish expression, you mutter out the words he’d never thought he’d hear you say. “toji, i said i’m pregnant.”

. .

happy spring fucking break.

[zarameraki]

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

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

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

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

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

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

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

Please cut your tongue off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"An intern's birthday."

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

"July third."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

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

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

"What do you mean 'why'?"

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

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

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

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toji never showed up.

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

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

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

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

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

At least that was free. 

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

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

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

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

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

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you kissed him back just as needy.

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

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

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

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

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

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

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

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

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

“Night-night.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

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

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

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

“Good evening.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do your parents live here?” 

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

“I apologize.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

Oh, my. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, darling?” 

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

“For what?” 

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

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

“No,” he said. 

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

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

"Kento—"

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

You could explode. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.” 

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

“Y/N.” 

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

He surrendered instantly. 

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

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

At least, you were both Team Cats.

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

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

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

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

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

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

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

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

[awearywritersworld]

poker night — fushiguro toji x reader

warnings: unprotected sex. implied age gap. pet names (pretty girl/baby/sweet heart). "daddy". creampie. sub par writing.

mdni.

toji shows up early to poker night, an event your father hosts once every week, when he hears you're home after graduating from university.

he's exceptionally pleased when you answer the door in nothing more than a thin tank top and tiny pajama shorts, inviting him inside even though your father isn't home yet.

he makes himself comfortable on your living room couch, his broad frame and long legs taking up an impressive amount of space.

"so, you find yourself a boyfriend yet, pretty girl?"

your cheeks grow warm and you struggle to meet his eye. you've had a crush on toji for as long as you can remember, but he would never actually be interested in you... right?

"not yet," you answer, biting your bottom lip nervously. "most of the boys at school seem a little clueless when it comes to girls."

"that so?" he questions, eyes unabashedly trailing over your body. "maybe you should find yourself a man instead."

you're ashamed how quickly you wind up on your back, toji's cock greedily stretching out your pussy. really, it's almost pathetic— he didn't even have to work for it.

"f-feels s'good, daddy," you whimper, your hand clutching his bicep.

"oh, that's just wrong sweetheart," he chuckles, gripping your hips so harshly you're positive he'll leave marks. "you wan' me to be your daddy? hm?"

it is wrong. it's wrong and it's unforgivable and he loves it. why else would he be fucking you on the very same table he'll be sitting at tonight, playing poker with your father and their friends?

you nod weakly and his lips twist into a sly smirk.

lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, he uses the opportunity to land a smack to your ass. "words, baby."

"yes, ple—" you gasp sharply when he readjusts his angle, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing steady circles there.

"what was that? couldn't hear you."

"yes, toji! wanna be yours. please."

you don't have to ask him twice, not when your pretty little pussy is the best he's ever had. no one else even comes close.

his fingers thread through yours, an uncharacteristically soft gesture. "you are, sweetheart. all mine."

he feels you clench around him in response, and the sensation pulls an absolutely sinful noise from his throat.

you're so painfully close to your release that your eyes grow teary and your head lolls to the side.

"tch, i don't think so sweet girl," he chides, grabbing your chin roughly and turning your gaze back to him. "wanna see that pretty face while i fuck you."

you cum on his cock four times before he's decided you've had enough. he makes you beg him to fill you up, even though there's nothing he wants more than to see his cum spill from your cute little hole.

the two of you fall into a simple routine after that afternoon and for three whole months, no one has any idea that you spend most of your nights wrapped around toji's cock.

that is, until you interrupt poker night when the men sitting around the table have all had one too many drinks.

"hey, daddy?" you question, planning to ask your father if he knows where your mother is.

but before he has a chance to reply, toji speaks up. "yes, baby?"

[tusswrites]

Rockabye Baby (j.ww)

Wonwoo x fem!Reader

"First-time dad Wonwoo trying to navigate the ropes of parenting while missing you"

genre: fluff, humor; rating : 16+ word count: 2.1k warnings: none! credits: the littol menace @svtiddiess for helping me with the banner and beta reading author's note: this is set in the same universe as 'Bun In The Oven', but it can be read independently. written from wonwoo's pov! send an ask to be added to the tag list (better see an age in the bio)! tagging : @jenoslutie, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @gyubakeries , @skzbangchanniee, @ariananotgrandeee, @wonufos masterlist here, domestic seventeen masterlist here

If at first he fainted upon hearing the news of the soon-to-be arrival of his offspring, he is now beyond frantic, doom scrolling in the wee hours of the morning on Reddit through multiple ‘First Time Dad’ posts. When he thinks Y/N can’t hear him, he lifts her shirt and begins to talk to his baby, he cannot be caught alive thinking he believes that shit and lose his ‘macho man’ facade. All lies, Y/N can never sleep at night, and is desperately holding her giggles at her husband’s constant whining to their baby about how mean their mom is to him. 

His aunt has given him some herbal medicine that runs in the family, vital for new mothers and despite Y/N’s bemoaning, he holds her by the neck and forces that ‘disgusting shit’ down her throat. ‘It’s for the baby Y/N’ he reminds her for the umpteenth time although he gags a little at the odd smell, that stuff is not for him, no thank you. 

At work, he is frantic, nervous, and excited all in one. When Jeonghan caught him tearing up at the back of the makeup room, rocking himself, arms tightly wound around, trying to stop his steady flow of tears, he finally confesses that he doesn’t think he will be a good father. “I never cared for children much hyung, I don’t think I have those paternal instincts to look after a newborn. I am scared I will run out on my child.” He sobs into his hyung’s arms who holds him tight and consoles him.

 “When the little one comes, you will forget all your fears. You’re not the type of person to give up on something you care about, especially not your child.” Jeonghan rubs his back gently, trying to soothe his distress. “You may not feel ready now, but you’ll rise to the occasion. Every parent has doubts, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not going to be an amazing dad. You’ll figure it out as you go, and your love for your child will guide you through it.”

 Wonwoo freaks out when his wife thinks she is some sort of daredevil, trying to climb on the countertop to grab a jar. “Are you crazy?” he shrieks out.

“I can’t always keep asking you to attend to every beck and call of mine. Besides, it’s not that high,” you try to reason with him, but he has no chill, pushing you gently toward the bedroom and getting you back in bed, propping your feet up on the extra set of cushions he ordered from Amazon just for you.

“I don’t care,” he counters firmly. “Until you pop out that baby, you are on lockdown. No leaving the bed, and absolutely no scaling countertops for a mason jar of pickles. I’ll get it for you—just call me. That’s why I took time off, so you don’t have to risk anything, especially not now,” he says, his voice steady but laced with concern. He smooths the blanket over you, making sure you're comfortable before settling beside you with a deep sigh.

It seems the baby isn’t the only thing he’s freaking out about—he’s also on high alert to make sure you’re okay, every step of the way. Why must you do dangerous acts this far in your pregnancy?

“I am pregnant Wonwoo, I can still walk and do things, ‘m not a doll.”

“Never said you can’t do things, baby,” he says softly, smoothing the crease in your brow with a gentle peck. “It’s just to reassure me, for my peace of mind. I don’t want you pulling any stuntwoman moves just days before Little Bun gets here. So please, for me, at least?”

He looks at you with those pleading eyes, the ones that always seem to get to you. Till the baby comes, he’s hopefully the cutest person you’ve ever seen, the one you can never say no to.

“Fine.” You huff out. “But grab me a jar of mayonnaise to go with the pickles.”

“Mayo-? With pickles? H-ho?” he sputters, absolutely stumped at your taste buds.

“Is there a problem Mr Jeon?” your brow is quirked, amusedly staring at your befuddled husband's face.

“No, no, stay right there. Mayonnaise with pickles coming right up,” he says, still in shock, but resigned. He silently prays that Little Bun arrives quickly, before his wife loses herself in yet another round of bizarre food combinations.

“And sprinkles too!” you holler from the bedroom, your voice carrying.

“Lord, give me strength,” Wonwoo mutters to himself, shaking his head as he makes his way to the kitchen, shuddering at the disgusting combo.

The day of your labor arrived very anticlimactically, if Wonwoo could call it that. There was no sudden gush of water, no dramatic screams or threats hurled at him. Just a quiet morning, like any other day. If not for him glued to your side, he daresay he might have missed it altogether. The moment you felt discomfort, he was already rushing you to the ER, completely ignoring your reassurances that it was just a false alarm.

He probably needed to celebrate this victory with a cake that said, “I Told You So,” because, yes, he was right—the little one did arrive that very day, though not without a few bumps along the way. None of the dad books had prepared him for the fact that the scrubs handed to him in the labor room were supposed to go over his clothes. After a certain amount of confused stripping, a shrieking nurse, and a hollering wife, he learned a very important lesson. There can only be one naked person in the OR—and that person was definitely not him.

The jitters came when his daughter came into the world, unperturbed and squinting angrily at him, like she didn’t want to be there. He can pity her sentiments. But the baby was not crying. Sure she was breathing, but where is that high-pitched wail the books taught him?

No amount of parenting manuals could prepare him for this moment, to see his little one clutching tightly to his pinky finger, staring at him with your eyes and his nose, and the feeling of love encompasses him. Is this someone he created? He holds you extra close, trying to hold the tears at bay. Gratitude, pure and raw, fills him—thankful for you, for this little one, for the family he has.

Some sort of humor is brought in by his mate Soonyoung who arrives at the hospital, all ready to see the newborn in a new tuxedo to make ‘ a good impression’ “This is a baby Soonie”. “First impressions matter Won-Won.” He leaves it at that, knowing deep down his mate's plan was to bag the ‘best uncle’ title.

It’s never without its mishaps however- he cannot understand the hospital staff when they give him the green light that it's time to go home. 

“Are you sure?” He persistently asks, there is no way he can ensure the safety of a being that came into the world just a few hours ago and now he is entrusted to make sure this thing is alive and flourish. What are they thinking?

Seeing that familiar tick of annoyance on your face, he supposes he has been asking that question way too many times and reluctantly picks up the baby carrier, although he is scared shitless, out of his mind with fear. He does not want to place the baby in a car seat, to your utter confusion.

“She was slimy and squiggly, what if she slid right out? He ponders. 

Assuring him that the baby will be “fine and protected,” and to further calm his nerves, you sit in the backseat too, keeping a watchful eye on your little one as Wonwoo starts the engine for the long drive home. He is not the only first-time parent here.

It took a whole day and a half before the secret was out in the open. “Wonwoo, I need to grab a bite, here hold Nabi for a second.” You hold the child in mid-air expectantly waiting for her father to pick her up.

“Just place her in the crib, she's safer there.” 

“Wons, that’s in the other room, what are you so afraid of holding your child?”

He waits for the realization to dawn on you. “Wait a minute, have you held her even once?”

“I brought her here in a baby carrier?”

I meant holding her Wonwoo, not in a carrier or rocking the crib.”

His guilty face speaks enough. “She’s just so tiny Y/N! And her head is wobbly. What if I drop her?” Why can’t you understand his sentiment? He will move heaven and earth for his daughter except maybe hold her and risk dropping her.

"Wonwoo, you're not going to drop her. Babies are fragile, but you're not going to break her just by holding her," you explain, taking a deep breath to stay patient with his nerves. You reach out, gently placing your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you. “Extend your arms”

He does, in slight trepidation.

“Wonwoo, Nabi is a full-grown newborn now, not a watermelon! Seriously, how small do you think she is? A little bigger gap won't hurt. Just trust yourself," you soothe, noticing his hesitation. 

Very gently, you place the tiny baby into his arms, and he holds his breath, afraid that if he so much as breathes, Nabi will blow away. This time, he cannot stop the tears that fall freely, privileged at the fact that she made him a father.

Yes, he knew about the lack of sleep and the constant need to change his baby. But what he did not know was that he would miss you this much. Around the clock, you both took shifts to watch the baby and rock the baby to sleep.But nothing prepared him for how much he’d miss you. The number of times he’s woken up in a state of panic because you weren’t there when he felt around to bring you closer and into his arms, only to be comforted when he switches on the night lamp and watches you half asleep, feeding his little girl. On tiptoes, he’ll pick his daughter up, the little gremlin who’s staring wide-eyed at him, and walk around the room with her, to give you a moment to rest. When you wake up in pursuit of your husband and child you see a snoring Wonwoo, holding little Nabi to his chest, both blissfully unaware of the mini heart attack they’d given you. 

Wonwoo has come to the conclusion that it's in those little moments—those quiet, fleeting moments—when he gets to have you all to himself. Three months after Nabi's arrival, he finally gets a taste of that luxury, when the little one is fast asleep, her soft breaths the only sound filling the room. Nabi is finally sticking to sleeping through the night, after listening to his fathers croons. When he returns to the living room, he finds you slumped against the couch, utterly exhausted. Your hair is stuck to your forehead, and the exhaustion is clear on your face, but there's something else there too—a quiet peace that tells him the chaos of midnight feedings and diaper changes has finally settled into a rhythm... for now. He’s not going to jinx it.

Silently moving you, hushing down your sleepy murmurs, gently lifting you, and placing you against his chest, he starts to rub your head in hopes you get back to sleep, a trick he learned early on to calm his daughter down. In this quiet, he can finally hear himself think, something he has never been able to do the past few months. His heart still thumps excitedly like it did the first time he laid eyes on you. To watch as the girl he once fell for, eons ago is now his wife and he gets to share a child with you, with the promise of having eternity by your side, he sleeps easy tonight, murmuring a quick ‘I love you’ and thank you’ as he places one more soft kiss on your cheek, forever elated that you’re his.

Alas, rest is not for the wicked. A sudden phone call on his cell has you both startled and wide awake as you rush to silence his phone.

“Why is it not on vibrate Wonwoo?” You start, angrily scrambling to sit on the phone in hopes of shutting it off, all rationality flying out the window in your sleep-deprived state.

“Shh, Nabi has still not woken up, which means she probably didn’t hear the phone ring,” he whispers as you both hold hands and painstakingly wait in agony for the jurisdiction of your child’s wailing. You are in luck, after all, she has still not woken up.

A glance at his phone has him jump up excitedly, “Yes, I won the bet to Mingyu, he owes me two tickets to see IU next month.” Unfortunately for him, his enthusiasm runs short tonight, for there comes the familiar cry from your baby’s room and a murderous look from you. “JEON WONWOO”

Uh.Oh.

Reblog, comment to share your thoughts! Goes a long way!

[victuals]

succession tonight being so similar to how my immediate family found out about my grandfather’s extremely sudden death I had a real life human panic attack, the feelings you feel from the sudden void left by the logan truly cannot be understated lmao