#he is chill and his house is clean and tidy

[nature-played-a-trick-on-me]

Weekend plans confirmed: gonna be at bf's brother's house w the bf and we're gonna order food and watch a movie and stay the night

[aardvaark]

the way the leverage team make a mess of nate’s apartment on multiple occasions is so much funnier when you consider that none of them are particularly messy people. in the pilot, hardison has a very nice apartment that he is clearly proud of & has kept very tidy. parker’s warehouse is almost disturbingly neat, her tools and weapons are kept clean & shiny and are laid out in perfect rows, her bed is made, her clothes and rappelling gear is hung up. eliot likes things done properly and certainly at least cares for his car’s cleanliness. idk about sophie, but she would at least know how to act neat for a grift, and she’d be aware of how a guest to supposed to treat their host’s home.

but they all put unwashed dishes in nate’s sink, do spur of the moment renovations, set up new gear in his living room, leave clothes/costumes, plans & random items strewn about the place, and even tear up his stuff without fixing it. i love it. his apartment is their playground. they half live here now. nate just needs to chill out and let them saw into his walls, geez calm downnnn. i know nate’s eye was twitching when he saw that parker’s warehouse was so perfect meanwhile there’s probably 5 bowls of unfinished cereal hidden in his house like a damn look-and-find puzzle

[cece693]

Clean and Tidy (Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader)

Since it's October, I want to provide at least a fic for some of my like (not love) slashers. First in line is Brahams from the movie The Boy (2016.) Beware it's short and not my best work.

Summary: The Heelshire's never posted that nanny ad. After all, you were perfect for the job. Not only were you Brahms's nanny, but you were also the caretaker of the house when the Heelshire's were away.

tags: neat/clean freak reader, Malcolm gets killed, never liked him tbh, Brahms is a kitten with claws

The house stood still and silent, a heavy darkness pressing against the tall windows. Outside, the mist clung to the forest like a second skin, thick and immovable, drowning the world in a damp chill. The Heelshires were away again, leaving me to keep the sprawling estate in order. It was a duty I took seriously—order and cleanliness were my sanctuary against the madness that sometimes threatened to swallow this house whole.

And, of course, there was Brahms.

"Come on, Brahms," I said, crouching to examine the muddy footprints he'd left in the kitchen. "You know the rules. No mud in the house."

There was a rustle, a shift in the shadows, and he emerged from behind the pantry door. His face, obscured by his mask, tilted downward like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "I’m sorry," he said, voice muffled and low. "It was raining."

"Well, it’s still no excuse. Upstairs, now," I ordered, pointing toward the staircase. "Shower, and I’ll clean this up."

He hesitated only momentarily before nodding and slipping away. I watched him go, a mixture of fondness and exasperation warming my chest. He could be dangerous, I knew that. But with me, Brahms was different. Gentle. Almost eager to please.

Everything had been routine, until that night.

Malcolm had come by with the groceries. He was the delivery boy from town, bright-eyed and persistent, always lingering longer than necessary. I’d noticed the way his gaze lingered on me, the way his smiles grew bolder over time, but I’d never encouraged him. Yet, that night, as I was wiping down the kitchen counters, he cornered me, his hand slipping over mine.

"You know," he said, voice low, "you don’t have to stay cooped up here all the time. I could take you out—just the two of us. No one would have to know."

I pulled my hand away, disgust churning in my stomach. "I’m fine where I am, Malcolm. You should go." He didn’t listen. He moved closer, his hand reaching for my waist. I froze, my mind whirling, caught between indignation and the sudden sense of danger that flared hot in my chest. Then I heard it—a soft rustling, a creak from behind the pantry.

"Malcolm, I’m serious." I warned, my voice sharp. "Leave."

But before he could say another word, Brahms was there, stepping out from the darkness. He moved with a speed and ferocity I had never seen before, slamming Malcolm against the wall. There was a flash of panic in Malcolm’s eyes, a gasp—cut off too soon. It was over in seconds. Brahms was breathing hard, his body trembling, and Malcolm lay crumpled on the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing. Blood stained Brahms' crisp white shirt, bright and stark against the fabric. I should have felt something—fear, horror, anything—but all I felt was a strange calm.

"Brahms." I whispered. He turned to me, the mask hiding his face but not the hunch in his posture. He was waiting for a reprimand, for anger, for anything that would push him back into the shadows. Instead, I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing as I took in the crimson staining his shirt. "Look at you," I said, my voice almost a sigh, "you've ruined your shirt. How many times have I told you to be careful?"

His head tilted, confusion and a flicker of relief warring in his eyes. "I’m sorry." he whispered. I didn’t answer. I turned away, stepping around the body without a second glance, moving to the kitchen sink to wet a rag. Behind me, Brahms watched, still as a statue, his gaze never leaving me as I crossed the floor to him. I began wiping the blood from his hands, my touch brisk and efficient.

"I'll have to dispose of that shirt and the body, which is on the verge of staining the carpet—"

"I’ll clean it." Brahms offered quickly, his voice hoarse. He was eager to please again, desperate for approval.

"Good." I met his eyes, my expression stern but gentle. "But next time, Brahms, be more careful. Bloodstains are a nightmare to get out."

He nodded, something like a smile hidden beneath the mask. There was a glimmer of gratitude, of understanding that I wouldn’t send him away, that I wouldn’t abandon him like the rest. I didn’t say another word as I watched him slip off to dispose of the evidence, like a cat slinking off with its prize. The house was mine to care for, and that meant caring for Brahms—the strange, broken boy who, for reasons I couldn’t quite name, trusted me to stay.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Crying in the Country Club ch. VI

dark!dbf!Rafe Cameron x dark!f!Reader

Warnings: dubcon if you squint, oral (f!recieving), implied p in v sex, implied unprotected sex, drug use, abusive relationship, manipulative behavior, physical abuse, aggressive behavior, mention of previous attempted assault, ptsd symptoms, infidelity, age gap relationship, secret relationship, love bombing, mentions of baby trapping, reader calls Rafe ‘daddy’

You glanced down at your outfit one last time before steeling yourself to go inside. You knew that Rafe would like the short skirt you had picked.

After spending more time with him recently you had gotten a sense of the types of clothes he liked you to wear around him. Skirts and dresses were his favorites, along with any tight, low cut shirts.

Rebecca had never worn those types of clothes as long as you had known her and you knew that was part of the reason why Rafe loved seeing you walk around his house in your tiny skirts, paired with revealing blouses that left little to the imagination.

Luckily for you and Rafe, Rebecca’s therapist had recommended she attend late night group sessions a couple times a week, giving you the perfect window to sneak over and see Mr. Cameron.

It had become a routine for you at this point. You told your parents that you were hanging out with Charlie, and they never asked any questions. They didn’t realize that Charlie had been spending most of her nights at her boyfriend’s house.

Entering the code that Rafe had given you, you unlocked the door and the pulled it open, letting yourself inside as you looked around.

There was no sight of Rafe, and for a moment you worried that maybe you had been wrong about the day Rebecca had therapy until you heard the muffled sound of music coming from down the hall.

You quietly closed the door behind you before nervously reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Usually he would have been waiting for you in the living room with two glasses of wine and his charming smile that made you melt into his arms. The two of you would hang out and talk about your day for about half an hour before you would inevitably follow him into his bedroom.

Over the several weeks that you had been sneaking over, he’d never not met you at the door. Maybe he got caught up doing work?

You set your purse down on the couch, walking towards the source of the pulsing music. When you found yourself in front of Rafe’s office, his door slightly ajar, you couldn’t help but pause for a moment, not sure what to expect on the other side.

When you swung the door open, you froze in surprise, and your sharp inhale alerted Rafe to your presence.

He was sitting at his desk, which was clean and tidy, save for the several white, powdery lines that he was crouched over.

He dropped the rolled up hundred onto his desk, sniffing once before wiping his knuckle against his nostril as he stood up, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Y/N…” he began, walking towards you as he took in the shocked look of betrayal on your face.

You couldn’t find the words that you wanted to say. For reasons you couldn’t really explain, your heart was pounding faster as Mr. Cameron got closer.

“Why are you..?” The rest of the question died on your tongue and you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

Rafe took another step towards you and the chill that passed through your body reminded you of the horrible night at the party weeks ago, only this time Rafe was the one scaring you.

“Just- just calm down, okay, sweetheart?” His tone was even, kind perhaps, but the way that his fingers were twitching and balling into fists at his side and the jumpy look in his eyes made you feel nervous.

“Is that coke?” You asked again, cringing internally when your voice cracked with emotion.

Rafe stared down at you with an unidentifiable expression. His jaw clenched and you took another step back when he drew closer to you.

When your back hit the wall of his study, you wanted to cry, fear clenching your gut so hard you thought you might be sick.

You made a move to side step him and walk towards the door to his study, but Rafe’s fingers tightened around your wrist, forcefully pulling you away from your escape and roughly pushing you against the wall of his study.

“Wait, Y/N-”

Yelping in pain, you froze, tears springing to your wide eyes as you were transported back in time to the house party with Mason.

“C’mon Y/N,” he chuckled, slurring his words. “We both know you’re looking for attention.”

Your chest felt tight, anxiety beginning to pool in your gut. “I’m not-” you tried to get past Mason again only for him to shove you backwards a second time, this time much harder.

You couldn’t catch your breath, and your heart was racing so fast you felt dizzy.

Rafe’s hard grip on your wrist loosened and he released you, face falling as he took in your panicked state.

“Fuck- I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to do that.” He sounded so different than he had just a moment before and his demeanor changed so quickly you didn’t have time to question it. “Are you okay?”

He gently grabbed your arm, examining the red, irritated skin he had wrapped his fingers around. You whimpered when he ran his fingers over the spot and he immediately withdrew his hand.

“I’m-” you began before your throat closed up with emotion. The injury likely wasn’t that bad, but that didn’t change the feelings that accompanied it. You felt startled, hurt, and betrayed, but most of all you felt scared; scared of the man you had know your entire life who had shown you an unforeseen side tonight.

“I’m okay,” you finally forced out, feeling guilty as the words left your mouth, and you couldn’t stop the tears that had started sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he repeated again, and the pain in his voice made your heart hurt. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“A buddy of mine gave me some of his stash to try for the first time,” Rafe rambled, reaching into his pocket to pause the music. “I didn’t think it was going to make me act like this.”

“Oh,” you paused and sniffled, wiping away some of your tears.

“S-so this isn’t something you do regularly?” Your voice was quiet and timid, but your heart was still thumping in your chest.

“No, no. Absolutely not. Just a one time thing because Topper kept talking it up.” He reached out a hand to brush your tear stained cheek and this time you didn’t flinch away.

“Y-you promise?”

“Yes Y/N/N, I promise. And I’m so sorry I grabbed you. Turns out coke makes me a bit…” he sighed, “aggressive, and I just got scared that you would get the wrong idea about this. About me.”

You swallowed, trying to catch your breath as you calmed yourself down.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat at that and you looked up at him with shiny eyes.

“I mean it, the last month has been amazing. And you’re on my mind more often than not, which drives me kind of crazy at times,” he chuckled at that and you joined him, completely understanding how he was feeling.

“You’re intelligent, funny, and so sweet at times it hurts. Not to mention how beautiful you are,” he added the last part with a wink, finally taking in the outfit that you had chosen to wear.

You blushed as he looked you up and down.

“I mean, fuck, you look gorgeous right now. I feel so damn lucky.”

Your stomach flipped at that, and you were secretly thrilled to be hearing him say all of the things you’d always wanted him to.

“I just, I dont want this one stupid mistake to ruin what we have.” You could feel the regret in his voice chipping away at your fear.

Rafe’s eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips, and when he met your gaze again you gave him a slight nod.

He closed the distance between you, one of his large hands tangling into your hair as your lips met.

It felt gentler and more tender than usual, and you couldn’t help but melt into his arms when he deepened the kiss. His other hand hand found your back, pressing you closer to him when you moaned against his lips.

When he finally pulled away, you let out a soft, disappointed whine. You opened your eyes to see him looking down at you almost dreamily. Up close, you realized how big his pupils were right now.

“Y/N?” Rafe’s arm was still wrapped around your back protectively. The rest of the house was quiet and you shivered in his arms at the intensity of his stare.

“I love you.”

You blinked in surprised silence, shocked to hear the words that you had wished to hear for so long whispered by him.

Before you could reply, his lips were on yours again, stealing your breath with another passionate kiss. With one hand on the small of your back to steady you, he slowly walked you towards his desk, only pulling away from you to sweep the contents on top of the desk onto the floor.

Rafe easily lifted you onto the desk, pressing kisses to your lips and cheek before trailing to your neck. You whined when he nipped at a sensitive spot, squeezing your legs around his waist as he sucked at your tender skin.

“I love you,” he groaned into your neck in between sloppy kisses. When he rolled his hips, pressing his clothed hard on to your core, you gasped, grinding your hips against him.

“I love y-you too,” you stuttered, finding speaking difficult as his scent clouded your thoughts. His large hands roamed down from your waist and under your mini skirt, squeezing your ass and pulling you in closer to him.

You could feel your panties growing slicker as Rafe kissed your neck, and you were almost sure he could feel it too as you greedily bucked your hips against him.

Rafe broke away, panting as he took in your flushed face for a moment before lowering himself to his knees in front of you.

His fingers brushed against your thighs before hooking around your panties and you lifted your hips to help him pull them down your legs. He splayed his hand across your stomach, lightly pressing and you laid back against the desk, heart racing as he pushed your skirt up.

Rafe spread your legs, lifting them to rest on his shoulders. The blond leaned closer and you shivered as he trailed gentle kisses down your inner thigh, stopping before he reached your core only to do the same to your other leg.

You were practically quaking with anticipation by the time he finally tasted you, and you whined his name as his tongue teased your clit.

His warm tongue slid up and down your slick folds and Rafe groaned at your sweet taste, one arm wrapping around your thighs to bury his face deeper.

He lapped at your clit hungrily, eyes rolling in the back of his head as he devoured your soaked cunt.

“Mm, y’taste so good,” he mumbled, and you arched your back off the desk when he slid his middle finger into you.

You whimpered as you squeezed around him, and Rafe held you in place as he curled the thick digit inside of you. His tongue never stopped flicking against your tender bud and the vibrations of his moans sent waves of pleasure through your entire body.

He slowly began thrusting his finger inside of you, and you rolled your hips to meet his pace, whining and squeezing your eyes shut when he circled your clit with his tongue.

The sounds of him groaning as he sucked on your clit made you gush around his finger. You cursed softly between gasps when he pushed his ring finger in, stretching you out before he even reached his knuckles

Rafe pushed his fingers deeper, holding your thighs in place as you squirmed on the desk. You tensed when you felt a new sensation, something hard and cool dragging inside you, but when you realized it was Mr. Cameron’s ring —his wedding ring— you bit back a moan, tilting your hips into his touch.

He curled his fingers as he thrusted them into you, the pace building as your cunt grew slicker and his tongue swirled around your clit.

Your hand came to his shoulder, digging your nails into his tanned skin as his skilled fingers massaged your walls. Each stroke made the pleasure between your legs build, and you felt embarrassingly needy even as Rafe fervently lapped up your juices.

“Daddy-” you whimpered, your nails clutching at his shoulders and leaving red marks on his back.

Rafe pulled away, replacing his mouth with his thumb, which circled your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

He could help but watch your face as he fucked you with his fingers, his pants getting tighter as your mouth fell open and your pretty eyes met his.

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over daddy’s fingers?” He growled. “Making a mess all over my desk.”

You moaned loudly when his tongue found your clit again, and you arched your back off the hard wood when his fingers curled deep inside you, hitting a spot that made you clench around him.

“Fuck I’m-” you whimpered, so lost in the rhythm of his thrusts that you couldn’t think straight.

Rafe’s thick fingers were stretching you out so deliciously, and the feeling of his tongue teasing your clit had you twitching in his arms.

You couldn’t stop the tension that had been building inside you from bubbling over and you whined as you came undone. Rafe groaned against your clit as you tightened around his fingers, pulsing with overstimulation as he continued lapping at your sensitive bud.

Light headedness flooded your brain, and you felt dizzy when he finally pulled away to kiss you. You leaned into the kiss, allowing him to messily push his tongue into your mouth as his thumb traced along your jaw. The aftershocks of euphoria made you feel almost high and you enjoyed the taste of yourself on his tongue as his lips slid against yours.

When Rafe drew back, you let out a disappointed whine, but the realization that he was unzipping his pants to free his hard cock had you eagerly lying back down against the desk as you spread your legs.

He pushed into you with one stroke, stretching your slick, sensitive cunt out around his length, his lips smothering yours to swallow your moans.

The package arrived at noon two days after Rafe had told you that he loved you for the first time.

You were sitting in your bed reading a book when your mom knocked on your door.

“One second!” You planted your hand on the bed beside you to sit up, wincing momentarily at the dull pain that pulsed in your wrist. Pulling your sleeves down to cover up the bruise, you climbed out of bed and opened your door to see your mom holding a black gift bag.

“Long sleeves in this weather?” She half joked before you could ask her what she was holding.

“It’s chilly in the house, Dad keeps it at like 60°,” you shot back, hoping your discomfort didn’t show in your voice or face.

You curiously eyed the gift bag in her hand, happy to change the subject.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know, I just found it on the porch… but it looks like it’s addressed to you,” she winked with a joking tone. “Do you have a secret boyfriend you’re not telling us about?”

Your mom laughed and you chuckled too, but your heart skipped a beat.

If she only knew the half of it, you thought to yourself.

“I’m sure it’s just a stupid prank. Maybe some frat boy I met at a party or something,” you tried to sound nonchalant, but you eagerly took the bag from her, not wanting to give her any chance to snoop inside.

“Thanks mom,” you said, and she walked away as you shut the door behind you.

Barely able to breathe, you carried it to your bed, taking the tissue paper off the top to reveal a smaller, blue bag inside.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you read the logo on the bag and you reached inside to pull out the small matching box that was tied up with a white ribbon.

No fucking way, you thought to yourself as you untied the ribbon and opened the Tiffany & Co. box.

Inside, laid out on a bed of satin, was a necklace with a small rose gold pendant that to the unsuspecting eye could have been an abstract shape, but you knew exactly what it meant.

In your excitement, you accidentally knocked the bag over on your bed and the small letter that tumbled out caught your eye.

You ran your nail under the wax seal of the envelope, pulled the letter out, and unfolded it.

Dear Y/N,

A beautiful girl like you deserves beautiful things. I hope you enjoy this gift and wearing it reminds you of me.

Love,

R.C.

You had to stop yourself from giggling with happiness as you read and reread the letter again and again.

No matter how many times you reminded yourself, you still couldn’t believe it.

Rafe loved you!

You could feel all of your dreams coming true as you remembered how those words sounded on his lips.

Setting the letter down, you picked up the box again, gently pulling the necklace out and walking over to your mirror to try it on.

After fastening the small clasp on the back, you beamed as you admired the gorgeous necklace against your skin.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but imagine how you would look pregnant. You pictured yourself glowing, full and round with Rafe’s child, one ringed hand resting on your belly along with your husband’s as he stood behind you.

There was nothing in the world that mattered to you more than having that life and you believed more than ever before that you were going to make it happen

No matter what it took.

[astraystayyh]

minho x gn!reader. hurt/comfort. reader used to feel lonely but not anymore with minho. for u my @rachalixie <333

it is a regular sunday afternoon, filled with all the chores you procrastinated for the end of the week. you're halfway through a batch of fresh laundry, when your eyes find Minho- he's fiddling with a pair of your pink socks, completely engrossed in a trashy sitcom playing on your TV. a bowl of fruit sits between you two, one he meticulously peeled because he knows you don't like the fruits' skin.

your hands go limp as you observe minho, who places your socks down before blindly grabbing one of your t-shirts. he carefully folds it in half, smoothing away its creases because he knows you like perfectly folded clothes, neat and tidy.

a lump materializes in your throat as minho quietly chuckles at the TV, your mind not on the sitcom but on the man folding laundry beside you.

in that moment, a sudden light penetrates the shadowed parts of your mind, ones you've left uncharted for too long, fearing what you'll find hiding in their darkness. instead, you discover a flourishing garden, watered by minho's attentions everytime he's near.

the realization dawns on you suddenly, yet gently, like an unexpected kiss gracing your forehead, a hand grabbing your own when you least anticipate it— you haven't felt lonely in so long.

you couldn't feel lonely on a sunday morning when minho woke with you, willingly giving up on sleep so you could make breakfast together. you couldn't feel lonely when he propped his chin on your shoulder as you scrambled the eggs on the stove, his cold hands sneaking underneath your shirt, a gentle kiss on your neck to compensate his chilling touch.

loneliesss couldn't loom in the supermarket's aisles when minho pushed the cart near you, whining when you didn't give him attention for too long. you couldn't feel lonely as minho helped you pack up the groceries into your car, before caging you against the door, planting a short, but fervent kiss on your lips.

loneliness doesn't cast its shadows on your home when minho helped you clean it, washing the dishes as you diligently swept every counter. you couldn't feel lonely when he suddenly pulled your hand before waltzing around to the soft hums escaping his lips.

loneliness is a stranger when minho folds your laundry, some pieces of his clothing sneaking into your closet. you aren't lonely when minho lives with you, throughout your extraordinary days and your most mundane, boring ones.

a sniffle leaves your lips before you can stop it, and minho's head snaps instinctively to yours, worry drawn onto his face as he furiously racks over your figure. you don't even know where the tears are coming from, but they are streaming furiously down your cheeks, showing no sign of stopping soon.

"baby," he calls out tentatively, putting the fruit bowl on the table and moving closer to you. "what's wrong?" he asks and you straddle his lap, burying your face onto the crook of his neck instead of replying.

you aren't lonely when minho pats your back, rubbing soothing motions on it from the crown of your hair down the end of your spine. you aren't lonely because minho spoke to your loneliness, gently, patiently, until he finally convinced it to desert your bones.

"i love you," you whisper against his skin and he pulls you slightly away, his hands tenderly cradling your face. "i love you. what happened?"

"it's silly and stupid," you mumble, looking down at his lap. he gently hooks a finger beneath your chin, urging you to look at him.

"nothing that makes you cry is stupid. tell me, hm?"

"you help me fold my socks," you say, lower lip slightly quivering. "and clean the house and get my groceries."

"do you not want me to?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"no, no. i just can't believe you'd want to."

"why is that?" he inquires, gently wiping your still cascading tears.

"because those are things i used to do alone. i... i never thought I'd have someone with me, by my side, every day," you pause, tears doubling over at your impending confession. "i never thought that one day i would no longer be lonely."

minho's eyes soften incredibly, the way your heart turns into mush in his hands. he silently brings your head to his chest, your cheek pressed right above his heartbeat, and then he sways from left to right, body pressed tightly to yours.

"i'm here now. it's okay, angel, it's over," he whispers, planting a lingering kiss on the top of your head. you clutch his shirt tightly between your fists, allowing his words to permeate your being. to dust every misguided idea you held about your future.

you won't be lonely when minho loves you.

"you know i want to marry you, right? so i plan on folding your laundry for a long long time. under one rule, though."

"what?" you ask with a small voice.

"you won't cry next time i fold your clothes."

"shut up," you pinch his side playfully and he giggles before tickling you in retaliation. your laughter fills the air, quieting down the sound of your tv and simultaneously, all the ugly thoughts that once occupied your head.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

somnophilia with John wick from the prompts? 👉🏽👈🏽

jw & fem reader

gif by the wonderful @scarlettspectra. TRIGGER WARNING(s) Somnophilia (from Latin somnus "sleep" and Greek φιλία, -philia "friendship") is a paraphilia in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious. & a bit of exhibitionism

You had waited for him all day. Flitting around the house, cleaning and cooking and making sure everything was in line for his arrival. Wearing his favorite dress, playing his favorite music on the stereo, chilling a fresh bottle of his favorite bourbon.

A month and a half. That’s how long it had been since you last saw the person  whose presence gave meaning to your life. So, naturally, you were brimming with excitement, heart pattering wild and strong in your chest, body giddy and jittery—unable to regulate haywire nerves. John was coming home. 

He wasn’t often gone for this long. It was an important job. Something involving a very, very rich man paying him to complete a very, very difficult task. Of course, you knew what his tasks usually included, but didn’t like to think about it too much—couldn’t think about it too much…

It was just hard to imagine…your John killing someone. The same John that took bugs outside instead of squashing them, who cleaned up his bar table and tipped more than generously, who always held the door open and returned shopping carts. Who was sweet and kind and treated you like you were made of paper-thin glass unless you specifically requested otherwise. 

The text comes in mid-evening, just as you’re putting his untouched dinner away and cleaning up the kitchen. Hey, dollbaby, my flight got delayed until tomorrow at six AM. I’m sorry. Don’t stay up worrying about me.

It’s disappointing, but you have to admit you’re used to this. It just comes with what he does, and you’ll gladly endure it with a smile for him. However, that doesn’t mean you can grant his request and stop yourself from worrying. With a little sigh, you type back: Okay, John. Love you.

I Love you, too.

You try and pass the time; go for a late swim, read a book, snuggle up on the big leather couch to scroll TV channels for movies. Except none of that works to distract you from John’s missing shadow, and you just end up with your head buried in a throw pillow, inhaling his residual scent and pretending the cushion is his chest.

You decide to invite some friends over for a good distraction, and they bring card games and beer and wine. You have your own stash of alcohol, so between you and three of you closest, you end up drinking a little too much and passing out halfway through game night. 

John finds you in the icy blue light of breaking dawn, breathing even and slow and slung haphazardly on top of your mattress. The residual burn of spirits heat your skin ruddy, and you have long since kicked the comforter off to leave yourself bare and unsuspecting of the hungry wolf who’s cock fattens at the sight of you—his big tshirt snuggling against your curves, the hint of a panty seam visible along the soft skin of your hip

He discards his clothes into a pile on the floor, too starved for flesh to care about being his usual tidy self, and climbs on the bed to run the tip of his tongue along that delicious cut crease of supple flesh.

You stir and whine, hand coming up momentarily to bat the tickly feeling away, only to weakly fall back down onto the bed, its task lost in the dark deep of your slumber. 

With a wicked grin, he moves his mouth down your thigh, licks into the seam behind your knee, then treks a wet path of kisses over your calves. You squirm and kick, trapped by heavy sleep, defenseless under his tongue.

He knows that, by now, you’d be begging him sweetly to make you cum, arching up into his teasing mouth for more, hanging on to his beautiful throw of silky hair as he laps at your panties. Always so impatient, his sweet girl. 

God, he missed you. Missed your smell and taste, the way you buck your hips, that little tender space between thigh and cunt that makes you squeal when he flicks it with his tongue. 

He nudges your panties to the side to reveal an already glistening wet and swollen pussy, your clit ripe and fresh, ready for his mouth to pluck and taste. Even in your sleep, you’re more than ready to sheath his cock.

He suckles at your folds gently while you stir awake with a sleepy little moan. “J-joh-jjj,” you slurr, gripping at the plump pillows while your cunt tenses and thighs attempt closing. 

So sensitive in that foggy place between sleep and wake, with his familiar mouth on you, impatient and insistent.

He holds your thighs open and eats—devours your cunt sloppily from the back, groaning about how good you taste and how much he missed it. “It’s okay, baby, no no no, come’ere, I gotcha. That’s my girl.” Two fingers curled inside, coaxing a fast approaching orgasm from your perfect little pussy. 

“Gonna, gonna-ah c-cum,” you tell him, clenching on his fingers, once shy clit now grinding down onto his tongue. You’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been so long, and you haven’t even touched yourself at his specific request, so it’s no surprise that it only takes seconds of cunnulingus just the way he’s learned you love it to have you soaking the sheets below your hips. 

“Good job,” he coos, bringing you down with little kisses to your puffy lips and chafed thighs, sucking his fingers clean and closing his eyes against the savory flavor of your slick. “You okay, babydoll?” 

“Uh huh,” you tell him, still twitching from the heavy orgasm, eyes threatening to close again, too tired to wipe the little bit of spittle off your chin. 

You feel him shift behind you, and then his thick tip press against your still spasming entrance, ready to overwhelm and overstimulate and leave you a babbling mess. His cock is built for your pleasure and demise, and as he enters, invading and pillaging the sensitive walls of your cunt, your eyes fly open and you sob into the pillow.

Something like, “o-oh fuck-“

“Shhh, baby.” His warm touch finds the base of your skull, that soft tug on your unkempt tangles guiding you back into his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Your friends are in the living room, gotta be quiet for me.” 

“Y-yeah Jo-ohn.” You try and tell him just how much you missed him, but the words jumble and stick, translating to half-muffled moans. Tears bead at your waterline in submission to that first stretch of his unfairly girthed cock. 

He understands your incoherent babbles perfectly. “Fuck,” he growls, tip kissing your cervix, “I missed you, too. Missed this tight little cunt.”

You have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the animalistic sounds of pleasure at bay, as he fucks you. So often, this beautiful man makes love to you, slow and soft. This is not one of those times. 

If you could think, it would be about how loud the sound of his hard pelvis clapping against your soft ass is, as he chases that otherwise unobtainable high that only your cunt can bring—that he thought about every single minute he was gone…the reason he’s alive.

You’re sobbing from it all—the way he splits you open so perfectly, the tiny dark whispers of reassurance, the fact that he’s alive and well and all over and around you; big hand pressing your lower back down for better and deeper access inside your cunt.

The way he just knows, even in his own rough desperation, how to unravel you—make you see the cosmos and beyond, into the soupy blackness of unexplored universe. 

“You coming again, baby?” He doesn’t have to ask, because he knows you are, more than familiar with the way you unfold and shatter. 

“Y-yeah-huh.”

He puts you on your back with practiced gentleness, and cups your sweaty cheeks in his hands before sucking your bite-swollen lower lip into his mouth, managing to stay buried inside you through the easy transition, swallowing your whimpers while his cock works out the final flutters of your orgasm. 

“Oh, John,” you say, when he stops licking at your throat to allow the both of you some much-needed, panting breath. “F-fuck, John.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair off your temples and pecking tiny wet kisses over your face. “I gotcha, it’s okay. Johnny’s here. Open your pretty eyes, let me see you.” 

In a deep, stuttering thrust, when you clamp like a vice around him, he loses himself inside of you, and you are with him. Utterly overtaken, love burning through your blood, body singing in rapturous heavenly choir. This is as close to the pearly gates you will ever get, you think, as you float down from the high. 

There is a cut on his temple that you failed to notice, and you touch just below. “You got hurt.” 

“I’m better, now.” 

With him nestled beside you, arms wrapping around and sheltering your body with his own, legs supporting your bottom and cock still softening inside your cunt, you feel sleep creep back up like an old friend.

It isn’t long before he’s succumbed to it, himself, happily snoozing nestled in your hair. You don’t know what he’s been through in that long stretch of absence, but it doesn’t matter now. 

He’s here with you, and that’s enough.

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ epilogue || there are weirder ways to learn about each other (🎂)

Admittedly, reading that text, you fumbled your phone remembering the short time limit.

Your pulse quickened as soon as you did, though. And instead of acknowledging the prevalent gong that struck in your chest, you knew by just a glance of the clock and the blaring concession that you were still in your pajamas after getting home that you were pretty much screwed.

The message glared at you bluntly. You scrambled to your feet with the finesse and charm of a terrified deer. Clothes, socks, shoes, for some reason while you were searching for everything you were wearing, they didn't fit as snugly as before. You were also putting them on entirely wrong, in theory too, but you weren't thinking about that too much at the moment. Everything you did need was scattered in complete disarray, and your brain continued to move too fast to remember where you even left anything in the first place.

You hissed in mild defeat, dropping to your knees to snatch just the plain sweater you were wearing and hiding your pajama shirt that said 'Certified Almond Lover' on the front.

A strangled laugh escaped you, half-amusement, half-panic that this was happening again. You were getting deja vu despite not having lived through this for the absolute longest time, and for some reason, it flooded your soul with an intoxicating, more interesting rush of life. A torrent of the evocations you had yet to revisit now that you brought the memorabilia to the front of the house and cleaned up everything else.

By the time you burst outside, his car was already in the driveway, where he stood there, scrolling through his phone in the frosting air. Even standing in place, he seemed so unbothered, the biting winter failing to even faze him. A dark scarf loose around his neck as his strands of hair brushed over his cheeks in the light gales. The sheer image of him was making the mess of your chest come to a complete stop.

Your breath was puffing out the chills of the atmosphere by the time you bolted down the front steps, the sight of your ex-boyfriend giving you a different type of chills. His head slowly moved up towards you once aware of a peep, clutching the phone in his hand for a minute, sucking in his cheek.

"Cutting it close, huh?" He asked, his timbre questionably calm and his expression unreadable but for the glistering mirth in his expression, eyes sizing you up for the first time in a while, taking in your, to some degree, untidy appearance. "Did you forget?"

You started toying with the bottom half of your sweater, intentionally oversized as you avoided locking gazes with him. "I...may have lost track of time."

"Mmhm," he replied, clearly unconvinced. He noncommittally slipped his phone in his pocket and took a slow inhale and exhale. "After giving you an hour and a half, I would have thought you'd at least have the thought not to show yourself out in Satoru Gojo pajama pants. In the snow."

Your hands spontaneously flew down to your sweater as you attempted to pull the sweater over your sleepwear, you yanked it further with a small heat crawling up your neck and to your ears. "I...I wasn't planning on you showing up until you were ready. Who knew that you would be ready...right now? I got distracted!"

"Yeah? By what?" He asked, and while his tone wasn't accusatory, it was in the same energy, curious. Unfastened and disconnected in the way that made you feel twelve times more ridiculous.

"Cleaning..?" You sputtered impulsively, looking away.

"Cleaning." He echoed flatly.

Your lips opened and closed like you were trying to find a better excuse, but the actual truth was lingering on the tip of your tongue and fizzling out constantly, not even deniable to how you actually felt. Tidying up wasn't an excuse, rather than a genuine way to cope with you not really feeling like you knew how to distract yourself from the growing bow in your chest. "Too far-fetched?" You asked, a small laugh in the place of inopportune.

He was in a intricate contradiction, whittled, but aerially tender. The turn of his jaw was defined, in a soft capture of your molten irises, it was kind of holding him captive. Staring at you with a vehemence that was on the verge of insufferable. Endless expanse of his contemplations and the feeling billowing beneath the surface. It wasn't loud, or crystal clear; no, it was the kind of typhoon you felt seeing him again at Ei's house for the first time.

Drawing you in again, his lashes were dark and fine, firming his optics with a featheriness belying their polish. Like glass, impossible to ignore after a cut, his lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but it was with hesitant composure. "I'm leaving."

Your shoulders dropped at him, disappointed that this was the news he decided to bring along to your house, but you didn't falter this time. Your heart skipped a beat, not having much of a useful answer right away. At least, not one you wanted to say aloud. "So I've heard," you sighed, breaking eye contact again. "You didn't have to visit. I know you're busy."

His hands disappeared in his coat pockets once he started discerning the frigidness. His breath was visible between you two as he scoffed. "We're past being selfless.” He muttered, but there was no real heat in his voice. If anything, he sounded tired.

“Well, calling sounds a lot better when you’re under pressure, and a tour sounds like a hard swallow.” You swallowed hard and thick, voice quieter now. “I don’t want you to do any catering, you know what you need to do, and so do I.”

"I wanted to see you.” He snarked half-heartedly.

Your stomach twisted, it was the simplicity of his words that got you, and you forced another shaky laugh to ebb the rest of your tenseness. “Okay…” You said, a lot more disjointed than intended.

He leaned in slowly, the change in his stance creating flimsiness within the distance. He carefully dismantled it, his existence alone was pressing into you, pulling you into an ellipse without ever laying a finger on you. His face hovered closer, head tipping slightly to memorize you, study your new movements and practices now that you were…unfamiliar.

“Okay?” His voice was low, pulling you much like the sinewy drifts you felt in your stomach. Faint scent of his light trace, testing the heft of his words with a lace.

While your gaze darts away involuntarily consistent, Kuni didn’t let you escape so easily. He moved nearer to you, chin aslant downwards, chasing your expression with little purpose other than to get some sort of rise out of you.

As a small and teasing smile graced his lips, the sound of your own pulse was beating in his ears as you slowly lifted your eyes back to his. It was near impossible to ignore him like this— the same person who you were entirely head over heels for. And in a sense, you felt like you still were.

“There you are.” He said, more elated while his voice remained silent as the neighborhood they lived in. The corner of his lips twitched…from amusement? Frustration? You couldn’t tell. Even if he hadn’t touched you, it felt a lot like he had his hand on your back, comforting it leisurely. It sent mold shivers down your spine, and a leering heat stroke from how bad you were feeling it.

You bit your lip, “The tour,” you tried to make out, but you were jittery the second you attempted to control yourself. “It’s really tonight?”

He nodded. “Midnight bus.”

You hesitated, your heart dropping to the bottom of your stomach in seconds. It rendered strange to you, even with the current circumstances leading them here. That Kuni would be like this again. “How long?”

Kuni mulled on it, “Three months,” he mulled, tone even. “It depends on how well it goes.”

There was no problem waiting an entire three months to do something, you were usually used to that prospect anyway considering you owned a business at one point, but there was something extremely agitating about this trial of patience in particular.

You couldn’t control it, nor put it to an immediate stop. You were forced to bear the burden of realizing you couldn’t hold back change no matter what you did. Even if it was fluid enough to come back. “You’ll come back, right?” You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting with the sleeves on your sweater.

Almost as if scrutinizing you in silence, he gave way to something gentler in comparison to his usual approach. You didn’t necessarily feel like you were standing on the edge of prejudice these days with him, “I always do.”

Nearing silence was not spoken for, but it wasn’t awkward nor painful to sit in with him this time around. It said words that neither of you could even fathom about yourselves, about the times that have passed. Your chest tightened in expectation still, and you stiffened. “Did you come by just to say that you’d miss me?” Your eyes lit up.

He leaned back ever so slightly, his breath was seeable in comparison to how he was again. He tilted his head just enough for his hair to shift against the angles of his face. His exterior a crack in marble, only showing its light in the right position. “Did you get the message, or did you want to wring it out of me?”

The fervor in your face increased, and you were left to simply say something incoherent under your breath. “I’ll miss you too.”

He caught the sound, but instead of poking at your father, the moment settled. His snarky visibility settling to something soundless, off the record. He wandered over your mannerisms again, your bitten lip, subtle line of tension on your brow, your lips together like they were trying hard to hold something back.

Even if it was just to live vicariously here for one last moment before he was suffering at consistent demands, he considered it worth the time and effort these days. A bigger change than he realized, and all you could do in comeback was twist the fabric of your sweater in bunches under your fingers while attempting to even your breathing.

There was no more shortness of the distance, because it was hardly there anymore. The gap had simmered away, leaving your breath to hitch again after regaining it, stopping mere inches from you. He looked at you again, with that same unafraid look. The look he carried with him while he was telling you off, and the look he’s keep with him now that he was leaving you for a while. His expression reverent, and like a precious gem.

His hands lifted slowly from his sides as the faint hesitation in his motion caught him by surprise. Your cold cheeks were replaced by the somewhat warmth of his touch, his thumb brushed slightly beneath your cheekbone, the metal ring grazing softly on your skin. You leaned into his touch like clockwork, featherlight and stopping every now and then, you were too nervous to look into his eyes even if something was entrancing about it.

He was sure again, with a more dainty unsureness nestled in him. “Is this okay?” He asked, but quiet enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed all the words you were going to say, what you were supposed to now that he wouldn’t be here long. “Yes,” Your voice tremors.

His lips twitched in the smallest guise of a smile. His hands now a ghost of a presence and you were forced to feel the shivers on your spine move up, creating goosebumps like no other. He leaned into slowly, taking your lips in his again. This time, the earth was holding its breath in anticipation, just as you were.

Kuni’s lips were soft, even when there was a determinedness to the way he kissed you. Like he had something else to prove to you that wasn’t just his proudness speaking in his ear. It mattered to him, anyway, it was why his hands never left, it’s why his kisses started to deepen with every retract. A press of his presence, grounding you, setting in your racing heart like the sweetest melody.

Not hurried, nor urgent, just consuming you all the same.

Lips brushing on you, your head in a flurry that was similar to the whisper of winter’s first snowfall. He was merciful, forbearing, fleeting with every second that you took for granted. Time was stretching impossibly long between the two of you, and you were almost at peace to say that this was something you wished you felt again. The adorations of his feathering pecks, he wasn’t afraid to kiss you, but he was yearning.

Love to you was a lot like feeling yearned for. That’s all you ever knew, and it was a feeling you wished many had the pleasure of growing fond of. The feeling making you want to jump into the air in a burst of energy, the lingering patience of your ex-lover remaining in your palm, and you savored it.

When he finally pulled back, a part of Kunikuzushi Raiden didn’t want to let the harrowing future take hold. Drawing back meant he had to leave right now, lips hovering close in a contemplating to keep going, ignoring a schedule. He stood there, memorizing that feeling.

You let him, and instead of embarrassing him once he removed himself from you, watching his eyes flick back open to see your beaming expression, you quietly rubbed at your arm. “I didn’t like that one either.” You broke the silence with a small and unserious utterance, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, it kind of sucked.”

previous ☆ masterlist

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

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@dontmindtheevie @mywillt0live @gl00muraaii

[dixons-sunshine]

To The Place I Belong | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: The world could be cruel. Especially now, as dangers lurked behind every corner in the forms of both the dead and the living. However, despite all of that, Daryl found his solace in the two people he loved most—you and your daughter.

Genre: Fluff.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Requested—or well, a spark of inspiration given by— @holdmytesseract. I hope you like this, my love!

The chilling wind blew through Daryl’s hair as he looked out the window of the truck. Rick was driving the vehicle, the former sheriff’s deputy silent as he focused on getting them both home safely. The gates of Alexandria loomed closer, the promise of safety, of security, a mere few yards away.

You and Hazel were almost within reach.

The vehicle soon came to a stop within the gated community. The sun had just begun its slow descent into the horizon, the ball of flames disappearing behind the mountains. Daryl and Rick both simply left all the supplies on the truck and took different paths to their own homes, the found brothers both silently agreeing that sorting through everything and taking things back to the pantry could wait until the morning. Although Daryl usually would have taken on the task himself and worked late into the night to finish it, he could not be bothered to do so that night. It could indeed wait until the next day.

Daryl’s boots made dull thuds against the pavement as he made his way towards the all too familiar porch. He carefully climbed the few steps that lead up to the front door, and slowly turned the doorknob that would lead him to his own private sanctuary, his escape from the horrors of the world run by the undead.

The crossbow-wielding archer was instantly greeted with the amazing aroma of freshly cooked stew. It made his stomach rumble, making him aware of the fact that he had not eaten anything that day. He had slipped from the bed at the crack of dawn when the house was completely silent. You had still been asleep when he had left for the planned scavenging trip with Rick, your baby girl also still deep within the realms of slumber in her crib in her nursery, dreaming of whatever babies dreamt about.

Daryl smiled his signature half smile when he approached the kitchen and saw what you were up to. You were humming to yourself as you went about tidying up the space, your efficiency being hindered by the fact that you held Hazel in your embrace as well. However, as you had said many times before, it did not bother you. You loved your little munchkin with all of your heart. A little more time spent on cleaning meant nothing in comparison to the love you held for your daughter.

“Somethin’ smells amazin’,” Daryl spoke up after a good twenty seconds of simply observing you.

You spun around at the sound of your husband’s voice, a loving smile gracing your features. “You’re back.” You laughed lightly when Hazel eagerly wriggled around in your arms, her babbles incoherent but clearly getting her point across—she wanted her dad. “Looks like someone missed you.”

Your husband smiled and stepped forward, plucking Hazel from your arms and gently holding her against him. “Hey, babygirl,” he cooed to her softly. “Did ya miss me?” All Daryl got in response was a little adorable giggle. “Well, I certainly missed you, Hazelnut. You ‘n your mama.”

“And we missed you,” you voiced softly, stepping up to stand beside Daryl. You reached out and stroked Hazel’s head tenderly, still in awe—even all those months later—by the fact that you had created such a beautiful human being with the man you loved so much. “We missed you so much.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered in his chest. “Yeah?” he asked rhetorically.

You nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. You were gone for far too long. Isn’t that right, Baby?” Your lips twitched up at the coo you got in response from Hazel. “You should probably just forget all your responsibilities and spend all your time here with us.”

“S’that right?” Daryl asked, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your temple. “’Cause I ain’t against that plan at all. Y’sure you can handle me twenty-four seven?”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure a couple more hours of you everyday won’t kill me,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with yours.

Daryl simply chuckled and shook his head. “Well, when ya put it like that, how m’I s’posed to say no?”

“You can’t,” you began playfully. “You can try to decline, but your attempts will be futile. It will be met with resistance in the form of kisses and baby cuddles.”

“Oh, god. Please no. Not the baby cuddles,” Daryl gasped in mock fear. “How s’anyone s’posed to survive the baby cuddles? M’doomed.” He tickled Hazel’s stomach, laughing with her when she squealed happily.

Your heart swelled with love as you watched the two people you loved most. Daryl had come so far. He had grown from that man you had first met at the quarry to he one you got to see now every day. The one you got to love and cherish. The one you got to call your husband.

You smiled softly when Hazel let out a big yawn and lowered her head to rest against Daryl’s shoulder. “I think it’s time we get her to bed,” you said, placing a gentle hand on your archer’s arm.

Daryl shared a look with you, one that voiced more than words ever could. “Alright.”

You both worked together to put your little girl to bed. It was relatively easy to do. One lullaby with some gentle rocking and she was out like a light. You watched as Daryl slowly and carefully lowered Hazel into her crib, before lowering himself down to press one final kiss to her forehead. It was a sweet gesture, one that spoke volumes of his love for the tiny human being that rested within the crib.

You quietly closed the door behind you when you and Daryl left the nursery. Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but it was cut off by the unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him. He easily returned the gesture, holding you tightly against him.

“I missed you,” you spoke up, your voice muddled as you nuzzled your face into his chest.

Daryl smiled. “Missed ya too, Sweetheart.” And he meant that. Despite only being apart for a few hours, he had missed you. He had missed Hazel. He had missed his little family. After years of wandering around and wondering where he fit in, he had found it. He had finally found the place where he belongs. His home.

You.

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.7  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.9????

p.8

AN: small toji x you in this one. isn't smutty just small fluffy. some comfort. well pick up with our normal story soon. I was gonna write in the next part but I needed to make this small enough to chew. I keep debating whether I want this to end quickly, or get drawn out. leaning towards drawn out just for my peace of mind but...I've got other shit I wanna write too. And I'm not entirely sure if it'll be worth it haha.

warnings: this story may cover sensitive and uncomfortable topics. please read at your own risk, violence, lashings, blood, mental breakdowns, yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside your moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

Big Dick Energy

The house was quieter than you’d expected, the kind of silence that wrapped itself around you and refused to let go.

You busied yourself with routines—cooking meals, tidying up, bingeing your favorite TV shows—but none of it could fill the hollow ache that lingered. Every task felt aimless, every distraction fleeting.

Toji dropped by occasionally, his teasing remarks and sharp smirks offering brief diversions, but even he couldn’t fill the void that seemed to stretch through every corner of the house.

Too often, your gaze would wander to Megumi’s closed door, only to be met with the same cold, unyielding stillness. You hadn’t expected to miss his presence this much, not after the way he’d ignored you in those last three months.

Yet now, with him gone, his absence cut deeper than you cared to admit.

His words lingered in your mind, a confession boarding on something less than platonic. You could only hope it wouldn’t be so painfully awkward when he returned next summer.

But more than that, a creeping fear had begun to take root.

He was likely throwing himself into missions now, facing dangers you didn’t even want to imagine. The thought of him out there, the prospect of death always a step away, gnawed at you. You tried desperately not to let it get to you.

So you cleaned.

You ate.

You slept.

And then you did it all again the next day.

And the next.

And the next...

Until the day came when you couldn’t put it off any longer. You had to visit your former clan house.

The walk through the grand gates and pristine courtyards felt suffocating, each step heavy with memories you’d tried desperately to leave behind. You were led, wordlessly, to one of the estate’s least popular tea rooms, the chill in the air colder than you remembered. Megumi's birthday would be coming up again, soon.

In the tea room, waiting was the clan head in all his big dicked glory, draped in his full traditional garb. The look was doing little to soften the venom in his eyes. Two servants lingered just outside the room, their presence silent but always watching. Listening.

The man across from you wasn’t terrifying because of his cursed energy—it wasn’t the strongest.

What made him so off-putting were the memories you had attached with him, the sheer weight of the past pressing down on your chest. His disdain for you was palpable, radiating off him like heat as he launched into his usual tirade.

“Incompetent,” he spat, his voice cold and very much arrogant, each word sharper than the last. “The information you've been bringing is worthless. A disgrace. Is that the best you can do? I thought that maybe, even someone like you would have some shred of capability.”

The gardens outside the shoji doors were undeniably beautiful—a cruel contrast to the scene inside. Birds chirped softly, butterflies flitted through the air, the scent of flowers wafting in—CRACK.

A sharp, stinging slap across your cheek snapped you out of your thoughts. Your head whipped to the side from the force, and pain bloomed across your skin like fire.

You froze for a moment, your hand instinctively rising to your cheek as you bit back the sting of humiliation. You vaguely remember how he always used to do shit like this. The taste of iron lingered on your tongue, but you didn’t dare make a sound.

Schooling your expression quickly, you forced yourself to meet his piercing gaze, his eyes as cold and unyielding as ever. This son of a—

“Don’t get distracted now,” he hissed, his tone venomous, his hand still hovering near you as though daring you to flinch. Always ready for a second one. “Is that really all you’ve got? You really are a useless girl. Why we ever kept you in the clan, it'll never know. ”

He hadn't even needed to slap you again. Each word landed like another blow, slicing through the fragile composure you clung to. He leaned forward slightly, his shadow looming over you, his anger simmering just below the surface.

“Do I need to remind you what happens when you fail this family?” his voice dropping into a quieter, almost mocking calm that sent a chill down your spine. His tone was unmistakable. You always were able to tell when he was about to do something drastic.

The gardens outside remained serene, as though mocking your situation. You swallowed hard, the bitterness in your throat impossible to ignore, and shook your head. No. You don't need a reminder. You remember well.

The man across the table hadn’t been happy, and you knew without a doubt that punishment was inevitable. Being a Fushiguro now meant nothing here. You still very much belonged to this family.

His piercing, cold eyes drilled into you, his disdain a tangible weight pressing in on you. He looked ready to throttle you. Your head lowered down, as you fix your gaze on a spot on the table. And just as you’d been taught, you thought of things that might be useful for him. The sting of his slap lingered on your cheek, the imprint of his hand no doubt burning into your skin.

You already knew this visit would be a bad one.

“His son went off to school,” you started, your voice steady despite the tremble building. “He’s now enrolled at Jujutsu Tech—”

“Yes, we already know that,” he interrupted coldly, waving his hand dismissively. “No thanks to you. And what of Toji Fushiguro? Have you seen any...suspicious activity recently?”

You didn’t hesitate, desperate to give him what he wanted, even if it was crumbs. “He’s been out of the house for four days this week.”

“That the best you can do?” His eyes narrowed as he stared you down. Obviously, to him, this was no where near enough.

He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, trailing around the table, his presence loomed heavier with every step until he was behind you. Your eyes don't dare follow him. Your breath hitched as you felt his hand settle on the back of your neck, the weight of it cold and commanding.

You stiffened, your body slightly trembling under his grip as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Useless,” he spat, his fingers tightening just slightly. “How many times do I have to remind you what happens when you waste my time?”

The walls seemed to close in, the silence suffocating as the air around you grew heavier. You clenched your fists in your lap, willing yourself not to react. Not to cry. Not to give him the satisfaction.

The grip on your neck tightened painfully, and before you could brace yourself, he yanked you upright with a brutal force that left you stumbling.

Your feet, barely catching your balance as he dragged you toward the courtyard. His actions—ruthless, uncaring, as though you were nothing more than a disobedient dog being hauled to its kennel.

No one dared to intervene. They never had before. The well-kept greenery, the polished stone pathways, the fragrant blossoms swaying in the breeze. Serene, if it weren't for the hand clutched around your throat.

"Five lashes," he barked to the nearby servants, his voice sharp and devoid of hesitation. They hesitated only for a fraction of a second before scrambling into motion, their eyes fixed on the ground, avoiding yours. Just how you were taught.

Your stomach twisted violently. Five.

It wasn’t the worst you’d endured, but it was more than enough to leave a lasting mark. Harsher than usual, and you didn’t have to wonder why. Your reports had been sparse, vague, deliberately lacking the substance they demanded. A small, quiet rebellion on your part. And this was the price.

You barely had time to brace yourself before you were hauled forward and thrown to the pristine stone courtyard. The sharp scent of iron reached your nose, and it was only then that you realized your palms were scraped raw, streaks of crimson painting the stone beneath you.

Up close, the stone wasn’t as flawless as you thought—tiny imperfections, cracks, and now smears of your blood, stark and vivid against the pale surface. 

The bile in your throat was hard to swallow. Your body knew what was coming, as it trembled. You tried to steady yourself, tried to push back the rising tide of panic.

They’d brought a wooden stick, one you knew all too well—thin, long, and biting.

Another servant stepped forward, pulling at the back of your kimono with practiced ease, baring your skin to the biting air. How many times have they ran through this same routine?

You shivered violently, clutching the front of your garment in a futile attempt to preserve some shred of modesty.

"You should know better than to bring me shit like that." he spat, his voice heavy with disdain. His measured footsteps echoed behind you, circling like a predator toying with its prey. "Sparse, irrelevant, unusable. Is this the standard you think is acceptable? Do you enjoy putting this family to shame?"

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You knew what was coming. And words would only make it worse. He wasn’t looking for excuses. Silence was safer. Silence was survival.

His pacing stopped abruptly, his shadow looming behind you. "You’ve grown rebellious," he continued. "Perhaps your time away from the clan house has done more harm than good."

Your heart raced, dread pooling in your stomach. You pleaded silently, begging him not to order the dissolution of your marriage. The only positive outcome from this would be his decision to let you stay.

"It’s a shame, really," he mused, almost lazily, "We need to keep you there for now. But let this serve as a warning."

The first lash came without warning, the whip cutting through the air with a sharp crack before it struck your back.

The pain was blinding, immediate, forcing a gasp from your lips despite your best efforts to stay silent. The second followed quickly, and your body jerked against the force, the rough stone scraping your knees further.

By the third, your breathing was shallow, labored, your skin burning with a fire that seeped into your bones. You could feel the blood pooling beneath your clothes, soaking into the fabric and staining the once-pristine courtyard. If there had been more lashes, perhaps the pain would have numbed, but there was no such mercy.

The world around you felt distant, your focus narrowing to the searing pain and the sound of his voice. He was talking but you didn't catch all of it. Each strike felt personal, a reminder of your place, your failure, your rebellion. 

You bit down hard, swallowing the sound threatening to escape as the fourth lash tore across your back, and your vision blurred as you bit down hard on your lip to stifle a cry. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, grounding you in the moment as the final strike landed with brutal precision.

“You should be grateful I’m not ordering more,” he said, his voice deceivingly calm. “Consider this mercy.”

Mercy. The word felt hollow, meaningless, as you pressed your forehead against the cool stone, your breaths shallow and labored. This wasn’t mercy. This was power trip. A reminder of the leash around your neck that he had no intention of loosening.

When it was over, the courtyard fell silent, save for your ragged breathing. You remained on the ground, trembling, trying to summon the strength to move past the pain and the humiliation that burned hotter than the lashes on your back.

"Clean her up," he said dismissively, his voice devoid of any human emotion. Without so much as a glance in your direction, he turned and strode away, his fancy pants robes swishing behind him with an air of finality.

To him, you were nothing more than an inconvenience—a speck of dirt sullying the pristine courtyard.

You stayed motionless, your breathing labored, waiting for the echo of his footsteps to fade and for his looming shadow to vanish from sight.

The gardens outside remained serene. Cicadas buzzing, birds chirping cheerfully, the flowers swayed in the gentle cooler breeze, and the sweet, heady scent of blooms filled the air. Damn, September was your favorite time of year.

But the blood staining the immaculate stones beneath you was a fucking wake up call—reminding you of just what it cost to defy him, even in the smallest of ways.

Thankfully, your clan visits were few and far between. The trip home that day had been nothing short of brutal. Your clan head’s disregard for how you might explain the aftermath to your husband lingered in your mind like a bitter aftertaste.

Toji hadn’t been surprised when you walked through the door, battered and silent. He took one look at you and seemed to understand everything without a word. Never pressing for details. Without hesitation, he led you to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit on his way. The usual Toji—sharp-tongued and teasing—was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was quiet. Unusually quiet. Unusually helpful.

His hands steady but his expression unreadable. There was no lecture, no pity, just a resigned understanding that somehow made the whole ordeal feel even worse.

Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down until the words broke free in a cracked whisper. "Toji, I can’t do this anymore."

He froze mid-motion, the damp cloth in his hand still hovering near a particularly nasty gash on your back. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak. The smirk that so often danced on his lips was conspicuously absent, replaced by a hard, distant look as his eyes flicked to meet yours in the mirror.

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze colder than you’d expected, and then let out a small, almost weary sigh. "I know, doll," he said, his voice low and measured. "I know."

Your eyes misted as his words washed over you, the weight of his acknowledgment settling deep in your chest. It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the way he said them, low and measured, carrying an understanding that made your heart ache even more. You hadn’t realized how much you needed someone to say those words, to acknowledge the heaviness you carried.

His hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until his fingers ruffled your hair in a rare, soothing gesture. Toji wasn’t one for overt displays of comfort. This was as close as he got. And yet, the tenderness in that small act unraveled something inside you. The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, silent but unrelenting.

You lowered your head, letting his hand linger, unsure if you wanted to cry harder or lean into the comfort. He didn’t say anything, didn’t pull away. Toji wasn’t the type to offer empty platitudes or promises he couldn’t keep, but his presence was steady and grounding.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter now, softer. "You don’t have to say anything, doll. Just…take a minute."

You nodded, barely able to find your voice. "I just…" You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I’m tired of fighting. Of pretending it doesn’t hurt."

His hand slid down from your hair to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but not overbearing. "I know," he said again, his tone carrying a strange mixture of understanding and regret. "You’ve been through more than most. But you don’t have to keep doing it alone. Youve got me here. And Megumi." A hollow promise, but still...

"Megumi hates me right now, Toji. He's been avoiding me for weeks. And youll come to hate me too."

His hand stayed firm on your shoulder, a steadying weight as his eyes flickered with something unspoken—frustration, understanding, maybe even guilt.

"Megumi doesn’t hate you," he said after a moment, his voice low and deliberate, as though he were willing you to believe it. "He’s a kid, doll. He’s got a lot going on in that head of his, more than he lets on. But hate? Nah. That’s not it."

You shook your head, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "He’s been avoiding me for weeks, Toji. Barely looks at me, barely talks to me. And the way he left—" Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard. Your insecurity getting the best of you. "It’s like he couldn’t get away fast enough. I—I don’t know what I did wrong. I don’t even know where we stand anymore."

Toji let out a slow breath, his hand dropping away as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. His dark eyes held yours, unflinching. "Megumi’s not avoiding you because he hates you," he said, his tone sharper now, cutting through the self-doubt you’d been drowning in. "He’s avoiding you because he’s figuring his own shit out. And yeah, maybe he doesn’t know how to handle it, but that’s on him. Not you."

You turned away, staring at your reflection in the mirror, your own expression a mixture of pain and uncertainty. Pathetic.

"What if I make everything worse, Toji?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "What if he’s right to pull away? What if you’re right to pull away? You’ll come to hate me too—both of you. My clan…they’ll kill me at this rate. I can’t—I don’t want to do this anymore."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You felt the tears welling up again, blurring the already fragile image of yourself in the mirror. Then Toji moved. He didn’t say anything—he just turned you around, his large hands firm but gentle on your shoulders, and pulled you into him. Avoiding your wounds so carefully.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his warmth a surprising comfort. "I’ve got you," he murmured into your hair, his voice low and steady. "I’ve got you, doll. Let it out."

And you did. The first sob broke free, sharp and uncontrollable, quickly followed by another, and another. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you upright, your fingers curling into his shirt as you cried. The tears came in waves, each one more overwhelming than the last, the dam breaking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

Time became meaningless as you cried. It could have been minutes or hours. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions spilling out of you.

And Toji stayed silent. Holding onto you gently as you cried. His arms stayed carefully positioned, mindful of the deep wounds covering your back.

Thank God you only had to go to the clan house every so often.

p.1

p.9

come home

AN: To be continued soon. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! and please give a follow, and reblog if you want to stay updated - or follow along on my ao3

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

[reysdriver]

Secondhand Smoke Or Something | R.L.

You invite yourself over to your boyfriend's house to help him unwind after a long day — deealer!remus x fem!reader fluff

warnings: weed of course, talks of masturbation, very suggestive at the end

words: 1k

a/n: I haven't touched my dealer!remus series in like a year and a half but I'm talking to this guy who smokes a lot and he's kinda inspiring me rn lmao... am I cooked??

Remus huffed out a cloud of smoke, his eyes trained on the television that he was barely paying attention to. He was really just trying to unwind after a long day at work, and if that relaxation would come from zoning out while smoking weed, then so be it. 

As he raised his hand, about to take another drag from his joint, Remus was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He reached beside him to pick it up and answer with a simple “Hello?”. 

“Hi, Remmy.” You replied. “Are you busy?”

Remus immediately sat up at the sound of your voice, ears perking up and a small grin unconsciously gracing his face. 

“No, I’m not busy. I’m just chilling at home, why?”

“I’m just bored. Can I come over?”

He shot up once more, quickly trying to open up some windows and let out some of the smoke because he knows you aren’t a fan of the smell. “Yeah, of course. I love when you come over. It’s just that I’m smoking right now, so—”

“Oh.” Remus introduced you to smoking weed, and you’ve smoked with him a few times since, but it’s not an activity you particularly enjoyed. “I don’t know if I’m up to that tonight.”

“No, don’t worry. I was just warning you ‘cause the place smells a bit now.”

“That’s okay. I’m just not looking to get high tonight, so as long as there’s no bystander effect happening, it’s all good.”

“Bystander effect?” Remus asked curiously. 

“Yeah, you know, when the smoke gets you high even when you’re just a bystander to it all?”

“I think that’s called secondhand smoke, dove.”

You nodded to yourself. “Yeah, something like that. So that’s not gonna happen?”

Remus shook his head. “I won’t let it happen. I’ll even light some candles so you won’t even smell it.”

“Thanks, Remmy. I’ll be there soon. Love you.”

He already started looking through his candles and picking a scent you would like. “Love you too. I’ll see you soon.”

Once you hung up, Remus rushed to finish his joint and tidy his flat a bit. It wasn’t a pigsty or anything, he’s just been busy lately and hadn’t had much time to clean up. He was planning on doing it tomorrow night, but those plans would have to change for your sake. 

Once the place was sufficiently tidied up, Remus lit a fruity candle he would never buy for himself and looked through his fridge to see what he could offer you when you arrived. 

He pulled out some fruit, cheese,  and other snacks and laid them out on his coffee table. Then, perfectly timed, he heard a knock at the door and rushed to answer it. 

When the door opened, you saw each other standing on the opposite side of the doorway wearing smiles like you’ve been waiting your whole lives to meet here. 

“I’ve already told you that you don’t need to knock. You can just walk right in.”

“And I’ve told you before,” you kept grinning at Remus, “I’ll stop knocking when you ask me to move in with you.”

She’s got me there, Remus thought to himself. 

“Don’t tempt me, dove.” He teased. “I’d never leave the flat if you lived here with me.” 

Remus offered you his hand for balance as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat. You pressed a kiss to his palm as a gesture of thanks before walking towards his couch. 

“It smells really nice in here.” You noted. “You lit the candle I like.”

“I did. I also emptied the ashtrays. I just didn’t feel like cooking tonight so I pulled out some snacks. If you’re hungrier, we can just order something in.”

“Long day?” You asked, taking a seat on the couch and holding out your hand, inviting him to sit with you. 

Remus slumped next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible. “Yeah. A lot of customers at the bookstore and then it felt like even more on my break when I was making deliveries. Then I just came home and plopped myself on the couch.”

“You want a massage? Or some wine?”

He shook his head. “I’m holding you. That’s all I want.”

And he really was holding you. He was laid back against the arm of the couch with his arms and legs wrapped around your body like a koala clinging to a eucalyptus tree. 

“Okay, we can just watch a movie and talk.” You said. “I’m sorry for interrupting your relaxation before.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything. I wasn’t going to do anything tonight. So the choice was between doing nothing alone and doing nothing with you. Easy choice.”

As much as you appreciated the flattery, you still felt a bit guilty. 

You shrugged slightly. “Yeah, but you were gonna smoke without me here.”

“I did get to smoke a bit before you got here. But really, that’s all I would have done if you hadn’t called.” He paused for a bit before adding one word and trailing off. “Well…”

“What else were you going to do?” You asked, turning around and noticing his semi-guilty expression but still not knowing what he meant. 

“If I was sober enough to get it up, I was probably gonna jerk off later tonight too.” He admitted, cringing slightly at his own words. 

You turned more of your body to properly face your boyfriend. Your eyes widened slightly and you made a small pout. “Thinking of me?” 

“Who else, dove? I would spread out those polaroids we took. Or if the weed made me really lazy, I would just close my eyes and think of you.”

You let out an ‘awww’ then manoeuvred yourself higher along his body to press a kiss against his cheek. 

“Remmy, that is so romantic.”

Remus blushed, likely not anticipating that response from you but being happy with it overall. 

“Well, now you have the real things so you don’t have to use your imagination.” 

You snuggled against him once more with your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you as if nothing had happened, and brought your attention back to the movie playing on the TV. 

Not just for that reason, but Remus was really glad you came over.

[lovelywritinglady]

Okay so maybe the plot for the Nanami x house maid reader is some of both smut and wholesome but maybe he finds reading working so hard one day his on a mission with gojo or Geto or both so he offended her a job to be his maid and after a while he finds himself in love????

Yesss!

His Maid

Nanami Kento x fem!reader

I’m which you are Nanami Kenton’s maid and through some annoying events, you become so much more.

SMUT. Fluff, mild angst, mild misogyny(Gojo) and wholesome themes.Changed the plot slightly. Protected sex, Semi vanilla sex.

Six months had passed since you had answered an ad in the paper about a younger gentleman needing a maid. You knew that it was sketchy and slightly dumb but at that time you were really desperate for money. After you answered, you met the man in question at a bakery. At the time, you were grateful for the public setting just in case anything would go wrong. To say you were happily surprised was a complete understatement. He was by far the most handsome man you had ever seen. The interview went so well that you started the very next day. And after only a month of working for him, you had developed a serious crush on the salary man, but you knew that opening yourself to him might make you end up losing the best job you'd ever have. Little did you know that our boss had felt the exact same way.

Today was another average working day for you. Coming in around 9:00am cleaning the kitchen, cooking him breakfast, and tidying the space as he left for work. And then cleaning the rest of the house a well as doing laundry and doing other task that needed to be done. It wasn’t exceptionally hard considering Mr. Nanami was a naturally clean person. The time was now 3:30 pm and it was time for you to go back home. As you were preparing to leave, you heard the door to the apartment open and two men walked in with one of them chatting away. The second man was your boss who was silent as he closed the dirt behind himself and his company.

“Hello Sir, I was just on my way out.” You greeted bowing to show respect.

“Ah, thank you Ms. L/n. Perfect work as always.” Nanami responded looking around his apartment admiring your handiwork. Feeling warm at the sight of you.

“Thank you sir!” You replied giving him your best smile which earned you a small smile back.

“Well hello there cutie.” The taller white haired man spoke coming closer.

“Good day sir.” You said trying your best to be polite as you tried to get past him.

“You didn’t tell us you had such a cutie working for you Kento.” He teased slightly blocking your path, making you feel uncomfortable.

“Please refrain from harassing Ms. Y/n, Gojo.” Nanami spoke calmly however you could tell he was mad.

“Jeez chill, Kento I was only saying hi.” The man you now know as Gojo spoke with his hands up.

“It’s quite alright. Good evening Sir, I’ll be leaving now.” You interjected not wanting the situation to get heated.

“Yes, but please would you mind waiting outside for just a moment?" Nanami asked you

"Sure." You responded slightly confused as you made your way out of the door.

"Was that really necessary?" Nanami asked with visable annoyance

"Hey, its not my fault your maid is a stunner." Gojo replied leaning back against the wall. "Is that why you hired her Kento, I thought that I was enough." Gojo pouted

"Get out.” Nanami sighed looking at Gojo with disgust.

“What! Kento we have important things to discuss.” Gojo yelled

“Yes I know, but your blatant disregard for Ms. L/n.”  Nanami exclaimed firmly.

“What do you mean? She’s just a maid Kento, cute maid, but just a maid.” Gojo spoke nonchalantly 

“Out!” Nanami yelled

“Geez, I’m going I’m going!” Gojo said finally leaving the apartment. As he passed you, he gave you a playful smirk and wished you a good day. This action made you feel slightly disgusted and you questioned to yourself why Nanami would ever hang out with someone like him.

After a few moments, Nanami came out giving you an apologetic look. His blood was still boiling at what had just occurred. You smiled at him looking up in his eyes.

“Miss L/n, I’m sorry for him.” Nanami sighed

“It’s completely fine sir, I will admit I was a bit shocked.” You laughed slightly which made Nanami smile a bit.

“Thank you for being so patient.” He replied grabbing your shoulder slightly

“You’re welcome sir, is there anything else you need from me today?” You asked feeling a blush creeping from his bold touch.

Nanami paused at your question as there were many things he needed from you. However, he knew that if he crossed that line that there would be no going back. He knew that if you didn’t feel the same way that he could lose you forever and he couldn’t have that.

“Sir?” You asked pulling Nanami from his thoughts. You had noticed that he went blank as his eyes stared deeply into you yours only to pull away quickly leaving you slightly disappointed.

“No, thank you. You may go.” He responded coldly disappointed in himself for not giving in to his desires.

“Y-yes good day sir.” You stuttered unsure of where this hostility came from.

You then turned to leave feeling awkward and disappointed at the situation you had found yourself in today. Your heart beat faster than you believed it ever had. The feeling you had kept bottled up were eating you alive as you walked back to your car. However, you only made it about 20 paces when you felt a hand grab your left arm. Instinctively you turned around only to be met with the desperate eyes of Nanami Kento.

“Miss l/n, please forgive me for my boldness, but I cannot contain myself.” He spoke taking a deep breath. “I confess that I have stronger feelings for you than any employer should have for his employee. I have felt this way for far too long and it’s been clouding my mind. I have feelings for you and I cannot go another money longer without making those feelings known.” Nanami declared giving you a nervous smile.

You stood there for a moment absolutely flabbergasted by his sudden confession. You didn’t know what to say. Everything you had felt the past few months that you had to keep it yourself felt too overwhelming. Words failed you as you tried to replied but your body would it allow you to speak the things weighing on your heart. You could see that Nanami was awaiting your response looking slightly scared at your lack of an answer. So, you did what your body dictated. You grabbed his face with your free hand, pulling him to you as your lips crashed upon his. He immediately kissed back with the same fire that you had displayed. Every emotion you both had been feeling came out in the action of this kiss. Nanami let go of your arm and wrapped his around your body. Your now free hand grabbed the back of his head as you pulled him deeper. Your lips moved passionately against his, his body on yours, your hands on him.

Nanami decided mid kiss to take you back inside his apartment. He suddenly picked you up making you gasp and break the kiss. However, Nanami immediately placed his lips on yours again slightly softer this time as he wakes into his apartment closing the dirt behind him with you still being held in his arms. He brought you to the couch putting you on your back as he continued his kiss. Once you were there, he let go of his kiss looking down at your now disheveled face.

“I’m glad you feel the same.” He whispered kissing your forehead before resting his against yours.

“As do I.” You replied stroking his cheek.

“If you don’t wish to continue that’s completely okay.” He reassured to you lifting his head to look at you better.

“I want to, I’ve wanted to for awhile.” You admitted

“I promise that if you feel even a little bit uncomfortable we can stop.” He added not wanting you to be uncomfortable

“I’ve never been more comfortable in my life than in this moment with you.” You moaned softly feeling his clothed erection on your stomach.

“I feel the same.” Nanami responded kissing you tenderly.

“Make love to me.” You asked holding him close

“Anything for you.” He spoke taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt leaving you speechless at the sight of his toned abs.

You soon followed his actions taking off your own blouse leaving yourself in your bra, hoping he’d take that off for you. And as though he was reading your mind, his hands touched the soft skin of your boobs. You then touched him feeling how hard his muscles were making you more wet than before. After a few more gentle touches, Nanami slid his hands behind your back unclasping your bra with ease and then tossing it to the side. You felt your face get hot at his efficiency and rubbed your still clothed pussy.

“Breathtaking.” He he whispered as his voice deepened.

“You’re so beautiful.” You responded feeling hazy.

“Took the words right out of my mouth darling. Now, let’s get the rest of these clothes out of my way. I don’t think I can wait any longer.” He said breathing deeply looking in your e/c eyes.

“Please, I need you.” You replied feeling more needy than before.

You both took of your remaining clothes with haste. Both hot and needy for one another. As soon as Nanami was done he jumped up quickly grabbing a condom and placing it on. Once done, Nanami captured your lips in a heated kiss as his hardened cock pressed against your throbbing pussy. He rocked his hips against you as you wrapped your legs around him rocking against him. You held him against you feeling his cock twitch as you grabbed a fist full of his beautiful blond hair as you passionately kissed him.

Nanami reluctantly broke the kiss sat up a little admiring your perfect body feeling lucky to have you in such an intimate way. He then grabbed his cock making sure it was aligned with your hole.

“Are you ready?” He asked teasing your entrance.

“Yes, please fuck me. I need you.” You said desperately.

“That’s my girl.” He spoke pushing into you slowly. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He moaned as your walls molded to his cock perfectly.

“Oh god, Nanami!” You moaned pulling him to you as your hands pressed against his strong back making Nanami groan.

“Y/n, oh sweet y/n.” Kento called out picking up the pace.

“Please faster.” You pleaded.

And just like that, Nanami picked up the pace filling you so well with his cock hitting your g-spot more perfectly than anyone ever had better than anything you had even given yourself. It was a overwhelming sensation but you didn’t care. You needed him and based on his thrusts, you knew he felt the same. His arms were wrapped around your body with one had on your hip and the other on your cheek. He felt like he would cum at any moment but forced himself to hold out as he needed to feel you longer.

“Nanami, touch me.” You pleaded

“Anything for you.” He grunted moving the hand on your hip to your clit rubbing it perfecting making you moan louder than before as you pressed your nails into his back leaving marks.

“Harder my darling.” Nanami asked to which you obliged making him moan deeply.

Soon, the knot that had been winding up was slowing coming undone as you were close. You then suddenly huffed a staggered moan as you finally climaxed as you clamped your walls around Nanami making him groan. He then smiled realizing that he had successfully made you cum. You saw this smile and pulled him against you kissing him as you were feeling overwhelmed with Nanami being stuffed inside you still.

A few seconds later, Nanami suddenly stopped and pulled out as he loudly cried your name. Once he finished, he laid on your stomach trying to calm down from the immense high he just had.

“How d-do you feel.” He asked you though staggered breaths while he nuzzled in your stomach.

“Amazing, just amazing.” You said running your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“Me too, I haven’t felt so good in a long time. Thank you.” He whispered closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around you, making himself comfortable.

“Anything for you.” You replied softly grubbing his cheek.

“Will you be mine?” He asked holding you closer.

“Of course I will. Nanami I was yours as soon as I kissed you.” You admitted

“I was yours as soon as you kissed me.” He replied sounding sleepy

“I’m so glad I accepted that ad.” You admitted feeling marvelous wonderful.

“I’m glad I can’t cook or clean well.” He laughed making you chuckle.

Thank you so much for reading!💜 I hope you liked it! Thank you as well to the person that requested this fic!! I apologize for the delay as life got pretty busy. Thank you for your patience.

Please feel free to like, comment, request, reblog, follow, and reblog.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

[watermelonlovershigh]

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: this part took me the longest to write because i couldn't get the wording right and kept having to switch things up. this is mainly a filler chapter meaning not much happens but will be needed for context later in the series. i hope you enjoy. let me know what you think. thank you for reading.

This story contains: mentions of bisexuality, mentions of threesomes, mentions of kissing, mentions of mommy and daddy kink, mentions of sexual stuff in general, mentions of a safe word being used, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au!harry }

word count- 1,977

Your friends Mave and Charlotte come over to yours and Harry's house to eat pizza, drink wine, chat, and play a very rated R card game.

Friday has finally arrived and you are filled with excitement. Your friends Mave and Charlotte are coming over to meet Harry for the first time. After spending a few hours working on your computer, you got up and started tidying around Harry's living room, which was already clean as he maintains a fairly tidy house. You took out the card game you intend to play tonight and set it on the coffee table. The only thing left is the alcohol, but Harry will be picking some up on his way home from work.

After leaving the school where he teaches at, Harry drove to a nearby shop and obtained the wine you had requested. You'd asked Charlotte and Mave about their choice of alcohol and they recommended wine to prevent themselves from getting too intoxicated by stronger spirits. Upon arriving home, Harry placed the wine bottles in the refrigerator to chill, and then hurriedly went to take a quick shower.

At approximately seven o'clock, your friends arrived at your home via Uber, as they foresaw the possibility of becoming too intoxicated to drive home later in the night. You introduced them to Harry and they formed a liking to him instantly. In a playful manner, they whispered to you that they may just steal him away from you, that's how much they liked him. Plus, attractive wise, they thought he was hot.

Harry kindly ordered a pizza to the house and the four of you gathered in the living room, indulging in the large pizza accompanied by several glasses of wine. Essentially, you all spent a delightful two hours eating, drinking, and having great conversations in the living room. Mave and Charlotte made quite the impression on Harry. They were incredibly easy to be around and had a remarkable talent for lightening the atmosphere with their jokes, especially during moments of high tension. They possessed a fearless nature and were never hesitant to speak their minds.

Once everyone was stuffed with pizza, you pick up the card game you had sat on the coffee table earlier in the day and announce, "Okay, game time."

"How does this game work exactly?" Harry asks, followed by a giggle. Yep, he was definitely tipsy.

You open the box and pull out the stack of cards. You know there's a correct way to play this game but you wanted to make up your own rules, just to spice things up. "Okay, so basically I'm gonna leave the stack of cards in the middle of the table. We'll each take turns picking a card but to make it fun, we all have to potentially answer every question, no matter who pulled it. Each card has either questions or something we must confess. If you don't feel comfortable answering one then you must take a sip of wine. Got it?"

"Seems easy enough." Charlotte exclaims with a clap of her hands.

"Hey, can I pick first?" Mave asks eagerly and you all agree.

As everyone sits around the coffee table on the floor, Mave reaches for the top card and giggles as she silently reads it. "You've got to actually read it out loud." Charlotte remarks in a sassy tone.

"Okay, okay," Mave retorts before repeating what the card says out loud this time. "Have you ever made out with a guy in the back of a car before?"

You, Mave, and Charlotte each say "yes" with confidence before stealing a glance towards Harry, hoping to gauge his response to the question. To your surprise, he appears bewildered and voices his confusion. "What kind of questions are these? I was expectin' somethin' light-hearted, not about romantic encounters," he queries.

You pick up the game's box and point to the bottom right corner where it shows the R rating. Once he notices, he mutters an, "Oh fuck!", taking a swig of his red wine for dramatic effect. "But um, yes I have."

Charlotte and Mave are surprised to learn that he's kissed a guy. Not in a judgmental way but they are genuinely shocked considering how much you confide in them about Harry's feelings for you. It seems you forgot to mention that Harry was bisexual, but then realize it's not your place to inform them of that anyways. Charlotte boldly questions Harry, "You've made out with a guy before?"

Harry nods his head in agreement and casually states, "Yes, m' bisexual. Y/n didn't inform you of that?" Though he knows one's sexuality isn't something people tend to share, he knew you shared nearly everything with these two friends so he's surprised you didn't let his sexuality slip up in a conversation before. But knowing you didn't share makes him feel all warm inside. It shows how much you care and respect him.

The woman shakes her head to indicate she was unaware. Harry typically never feels anxious about sharing his bisexuality as he finds that most individuals are accepting or simply don't care. Although he occasionally encounters negative reactions, mostly from the people he's seeing, he makes an effort to try and not allow those to affect him.

"My turn," you announce, reaching for the next card to advance the game. "Ohhh, a confession. How intriguing. Do you tend to be more dominant or submissive in bed? Mhm...... as for me, it's quite simple. I can be either, depending on my mood."

"No way," Harry interjects, "m' also a switch. Just depends on the person and the mood m' in at that moment." As you glance at one another, you can feel a secret message being conveyed through just your eyes alone. One that's saying you're meant to be. A perfect match, some would consider. Because it's rare for both people in a relationship to be dominate some times and submissive other times.

Mave and Charlotte affirm they're both complete submissives, leaving Harry to select the next card. "Tell us about the most outrageous experience you've had during a sexual encounter. Uhm, let me think on that for a moment."

"Oh, I know." Mave speaks, "For me, I'd have to say being double penetrated."

"You what?" you gasp at her answer, unaware of this encounter she's had. She usually tells you everything but you guess she's been keeping this one a secret.

With a playful giggle, she admits, "Back in uni, I had a few threesomes, and one of them involved double penetration. It was painful at first but the pleasure that followed was incredible." Her confession triggers a vivid image of you in Harry's mind, arousing him at just the thought of having a threesome with you. But he wonders if you were open to that idea.

"Personally, I tied a man to the bed once and rode him while he wore a cock ring. Although it was pleasurable for me, the man experienced tons of discomfort. So I decided to let him come after an hour." you answer the question. It wasn't super outrageous but you weren't that freaky in bed. Again, all Harry can think about is you doing that to him and at this point he has to set one of the couch pillows in his lap without looking too suspicious. He's now actually hard in his pants.

After thinking for a minute more, Harry's ready to answer. "I guess my answer would be, this one time I let a girl fuck my throat with her strap-on. Let's just say my throat was bruised for days." Fuck, now it's you conjuring up images of possibly doing that to Harry. You don't own a strap-on but you sure as hell would go out and buy one if he agrees.

Charlotte optes to taking a drink of wine instead of answering and then picks a card beings it's her turn now. "Have you ever had to use your safeword during sex? Thankfully no. What about you all?"

Harry and Mave both said no as their answer, whereas you, on the contrary, chose to take a sip of wine. You could have easily said the truth, which would have been yes, but then would've had to provide an explanation for their curious minds. And you'd prefer not to do that in front of everyone, especially as it regards the situation where you had to use your safe word. It evokes a very unpleasant memory. Nevertheless, you can see a compassionate expression on Harry's face and have a feeling he'll bring it up at a later time.

The game continues with questions like, "Where is the most unusual place you have engaged in sexual activity?" "What is your preferred sexual position?" "Have you ever accidentally called out the wrong name during sex?" "Do you secretly have a mommy or daddy kink?" Harry's responses were as follows: in a club bathroom, preferring missionary with women to see their expressions and opting for the doggy style with men, almost moaning the wrong name (which happened to be yours), and has only ever jokingly used the terms daddy or mommy if his partner was interested in that kind of stuff.

Your responses to those particular questions consisted of: the bathtub, missionary or spooning position, almost saying Harry's name but correcting yourself before it was on the verge of slipping out, (though you didn't share to them it was Harry whoms name it was), and lastly, although you're not actually into the whole kink, you've humorously said daddy once to cater to your partner's wishes. Which made you cringe so bad immediately after.

By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, all of you were considerably intoxicated. Though most of you managed to answer every question, you've still been continuously sipping from your wine glasses with multiple refills. In a drunken manner, your friends suggested, "Maybe we should call an umb... uber...."

Rising on wobbly legs, Harry retorts, "Why don't you both stay if you want? I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind you sleepin' in her bed, and she can sleep with me in mine. That way you won't have to go home drunk." Harry is literally the sweetest.

"You sure?" Mave asks, looking at both of you for confirmation.

You nod, agreeing, "Yeah, yeah. That's fine. Just don't puke in my bed, please." remembering all the times where they've gotten sick from being too drunk.

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

With Mave and Charlotte settled in your bed, you made your way to Harry's room across the hall. He was busy arranging the pillows and covers. Just as you were about to join him in bed, you remembered, "Wait a minute, I need to use the bathroom."

Harry bursts into laughter. "Is that so? You didn't realize that when you were in the hallway?"

"Hey, no laughing at me!" You exit the room and hurry to the bathroom located in the hallway. Upon your return, Harry is already tucked in under the duvet, with only the lamp providing a dim light. As you join him, and he reaches over to switch off the lamp.

Now in the dark bedroom, Harry shuffles closer to you for a cuddle and whispers, "You're not gonna puke in my bed are you?"

You playfully swat at his chest and confirm, "No, I'm not that drunk, silly. But I will have a killer headache in the morning. Night."

"Night, sleep tight." Harry leans in and plants a tender kiss on your lips, momentarily catching you off guard. However, you quickly embrace the intimate moment, realizing that receiving these small, affectionate kisses from him for no specific reason is something you should start getting accustomed to. After all, it's a typical aspect of being in a relationship, isn't it?

As you gradually drift off to sleep, your mind becomes consumed by the lingering sensation of Harry's lips meeting yours and the burning curiosity to discuss the explicit answers he provided during the rated R card game earlier.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Spontaneous Pleasures {part 7.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[jo-the-cosmic-being]

Sry if it’s bad, I paused in the middle of it to quickly do my Duolingo lesson😭

Imagine:

Your man stays at home while you are away. What chores would he do?

𝒮𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃 would not really realize he spent most of the day just sleeping or watching TV. I think at first he would be really unproductive. He needs a break from work, the man is tiredddd! In the other half of the day, he will do some basic chores, unpacking his stuff, making the bed, maybe fixing something that broke while he was away.

Okay hear me out! 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 would cut firewood. Let him act like a lumberjack in the backyard in a plaid shirt. Let him feel useful. And please say that you are cold so he can cut up some more wood for the fireplace.

I’m sure 𝒮𝑜𝒶𝓅 would do something so useless but actually smart. Like rearranging the spices or put the books on the bookshelf in alphabetical order. He would just get really creative with these ideas. When you get home, it actually surprises you, he’s not the kind of person to feel the need to tidy up anything.

I think 𝒦𝓎𝓁𝑒 is the kind of guy to do what he sees you usually doing. So he would do the dishes, the laundry, some cleaning, I don’t trust him with cooking tho so when you get home, you have nothing to do, just to rest and enjoy his company.

I honestly don’t think 𝑀𝒶𝓀𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓋 would let you do chores. He has people to do it for you. So he wouldn’t either. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything at all. He would walk through the mansion house, to make sure there wasn’t a spider web, a hole on the wall or a single dust molecule. When you get home, he already ordered you your favorite food and put on a movie you like.

Why am I seeing 𝒫𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓅 doing all the fixing and typical “men’s works”? I can only think of him washing the car, cutting branches, mowing the lawn, and assembling the IKEA furnitures you bought while he was on a mission.

𝒦ö𝓃𝒾𝑔 is pretty chill about it I think. If you didn’t specifically asked him to do something he probably wouldn’t really think about it. He would maybe do something if it was really bothering him. Folding the clothes, doing the shopping or fixing the tap.

💋

Divider by fairytopea

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 07

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Richmond, Virginia, March 20, 2015

“Thank you so much for being here once again!” Gratitude seemed to pour from her voice and adorn her smile. Everyone at Pearl’s bar cheered whenever you stepped on stage and sighed in disappointment when you announced the last song.

It felt almost too surreal.

Gradually, a certain confidence began to settle, and the small stage of that bar—bathed in cozy, colorful lights, walls adorned with posters of '90s bands, and a warm audience—felt more and more like home. Maybe it was a bit arrogant to think you were born for this, but what if you were?

“Did I tell you how good you are today?” His voice reached you just as your hand slid over the zipper after storing the guitar away. You didn’t even need to turn around to recognize the presence that filled the space.

He’d been here. Every single day. For a month.

With the uncanny ability to make the blood vessels in your face dilate, painting your skin crimson, and sending chills up your arms just by hearing the timbre of his voice. Turning around and meeting his brown eyes, sparkling like a precious gem every time they met yours, sent your body into an involuntary reaction.

There was absolutely no way you could stop yourself from smiling when he was by your side, even if the swarm of butterflies nesting in your stomach caused a slight discomfort.

“You say that every time, Noah…” you muttered so softly you thought he hadn’t heard.

“That’s because I’m your biggest fan.”

After flashing a wavering smile and shaking your head to mask the flustered feeling creeping in, you went back to rolling up the sound cables. After every performance, it was your duty to tidy up the place and clean the empty bar before heading home.

Pearl had offered you a spot in the small house she shared with her son in the back of the bar. There weren’t separate bedrooms or many rooms to keep you from bumping into one another, but to you, it was perfect—a place to sleep, eat, and shower.

“Uh…” Noah seemed to rehearse his words, hands buried in his pockets and shoulders hunched as he followed you around the stage. “It’s not that late, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me?”

Your body froze in place for a few seconds, cables coiled around your fingers.

“I mean…” he rushed to correct himself. “Don’t get me wrong, please. It’s just an invitation to grab a drink or some food. I promise I’ll get you home before your parents notice you’re gone, or I can talk to them if you’d like, and…”

“I’ll go.”

Finally, he fell silent, his rapid string of words nearly robbing him of breath. Noah slumped his shoulders, and it was hard to tell whether he was surprised you’d agreed or just catching his breath after pulling an Eminem stunt.

“Cool!” was all he managed to say, still looking dazed.

“I just need to finish organizing the sound equipment and cleaning up the bar. If you don’t mind waiting.”

“No. No. No! Of course, I don’t mind waiting.” Noah assured, already glancing at the rest of the disorganized bar. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

It didn’t take long for the place to become a true mess, thanks to Noah’s enthusiasm and the old jukebox in the corner with the help of a coin. Chairs atop tables, soapy water covering the floor, while you both wielded brooms, belting out a metal version of Love Story by Taylor Swift that you’d created. Noah handled the growls, and you performed the melodic verses, sliding across the slippery floor.

For the second time, it struck you how your voices complemented each other, even if it was just a silly game while cleaning a bar that reeked of stale drinks and cigarettes. He seemed to enjoy himself so much that, while pushing water across the floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at his perfectly aligned smile—a masterpiece framed in laughter.

With unsteady steps dodging the puddles of soap, your body suddenly lost balance. Noah’s quick reflexes allowed him to drop his broom and catch you just in time before you hit the ground.

If there was music still playing, you couldn’t tell what it was anymore. A faint ringing buzzed in your ears as your eyes locked with his.

There wasn’t a single scientific explanation as to why his eyes gleamed so brightly in your presence, and even after seeing him every day for a month at the back of the audience, it still felt like the first time.

“Easy there, little storm!” His voice was soft, carrying a breath of mint as strands of his hair fell across his face. “A hospital date isn’t exactly on my agenda.”

Slowly, Noah helped you back to your feet, his laughter mingling with yours as you both steadied yourselves. Returning to your brooms, you remembered what you were supposed to be doing.

Pearl’s bar was finally back in order—chairs down, floor spotless, stage organized, dishes washed. The strong scent of disinfectant made Noah sneeze, drawing a laugh from you when you saw his reddened nose from the allergy. He kindly helped you gather your belongings, but as you were about to leave, heavy rain poured outside, making him groan in disappointment.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” he grumbled, gazing at the downpour with a less-than-pleased expression. Somehow, he looked adorable, pouting like that.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the rain?” you teased, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it to the floor by the door along with your bag and phone.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Noah asked, furrowing his brows in a mix of concern, trailing after your mischievous smile as you walked backward into the rain. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get soaked for no reason. We could wait it out or reschedule, and…”

“Boy, you’re so…”

“Boring?” he offered.

“Methodical,” you corrected, raising a finger in the air for emphasis. “You’re afraid of making mistakes, turning it into a constant competition with yourself to make everything perfect. But I have a question for you: When was the last time you felt free?”

The words seemed to strike him, and for a moment, you hesitated, fearing you’d overstepped, noticing how he froze in place. Life had always been a sea of opportunities to you, no matter what they were. You’d always felt alone, even in a crowd, and nothing had stopped you from living.

Nothing had cared enough to cage you, and that made you free.

The trance broke. Noah shook his head, banishing his inner doubts. A smile formed on his lips as he shed his jacket, tossing his phone alongside your things, and sprinted into the rain, squinting against the droplets.

You instinctively began running down the long, empty road, your laughter tangling with his, filling the air. Noah made it a race; taller than you, his long strides were worth two of yours.

Rain clung to your skin, hair plastered to your face, strands obscuring your vision as you desperately glanced over your shoulder, afraid of being caught. With a playful grin, he bit his lip, struggling to see through the downpour.

His laughter was the best song you’d ever heard, and your heart longed to play it on repeat until it soothed the storm raging inside.

When your legs gave out, surrendering, Noah caught you in a surprise move, hoisting you over his shoulder. Your laughter spilled freely, your stomach aching from the joy. Spinning together in the rain, the cold seemed insignificant as adrenaline warmed your bodies.

A dance without music moved you both as Noah clasped your hand, twirling you, your toes barely touching the ground. Every time you lifted your face to the sky, feeling the raindrops and cool breeze, your lips and his curved upward simultaneously.

Attempting another spin, Noah’s foot slipped, sending you both tumbling to the ground. He softened your fall with his arm, and once again, your eyes locked, separated only by the strange-tasting water falling from the sky and dripping from your chins.

Every detail of his face was perfectly sculpted, a maze where you could easily lose yourself—his deep, hopeful, and fiercely brown eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, boy,” you whispered, almost breathless, as he propped himself up on one arm. “I’m still going to break your heart.”

“I dare you, little storm,” Noah said, his gaze fixed on you as though spellbound, his free hand brushing away a stray lock from your face to study it closely before claiming your lips in one swift motion.

Every ounce of turmoil that had knotted your insides over the past weeks washed away with the rain, as if a new sensation took over your body. Your arms looped around his neck, fingers threading through the damp hair at his nape. There was no other choice for him but to stay. You wanted him to stay.

Noah’s long fingers pressed into your back, gathering the soaked fabric of your shirt, pulling your bodies together with deliberate slowness. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss with an urgency that mirrored the moment he’d first crossed your path.

Noses brushing gently, you both smiled softly, his lips returning to yours. Tilting his head skyward, eyes closed as he murmured something unintelligible. Noah laughed softly, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead and the curve of his nose.

"Please, little storm, tell me I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered, almost like a plea, as his lips brushed against your skin, refusing to open his eyes.

"Absolutely, yes," your voice confirmed as you slowly lifted his face, your fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair.

A second meeting in a dark basement isn’t exactly what you imagined.

Noah had come down with a terrible cold after last night’s adventure, and in an attempt to stop you from risking his life again, he suggested you come watch his band rehearse. His friends and bandmates were introduced as Folio, Jolly, and Ruffilo. The guys welcomed you with enthusiasm, and for a moment, you felt like you’d known them for years, so naturally did they make you feel part of their group.

“What’s with that face?” Ruffilo asked as soon as the first song ended, slinging his instrument off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me it’s that bad.”

“You have the privilege of seeing us play a private show, and that’s the face you make? Noah, your friend here is kind of rude!” The guy behind the drums joked in an easygoing tone, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, you nibbled on your lip while munching on a bag of chips. It wasn’t like you were a music expert, though you’d been breathing it in like air for as long as you could remember, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

“I think it was badass!” As soon as you spoke, everyone slumped their shoulders in relief.

“I take back everything I said about her.”

“But something’s missing…” you added, standing up from the couch and brushing your fingers together.

“I take back everything I just said about her.” The guy on the drums simply couldn’t stay quiet.

“Folio, let the girl speak!” Jolly interrupted, and Folio quickly mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. “What exactly do you think is missing? I’ve had that same feeling and would love to know I’m not going crazy.”

You began pacing back and forth, your steps deliberate, your fingers curling inside your jeans pockets. Jolly’s question made you reflect on the current metal scene. All their references seemed focused on hardcore, where every song followed a single rhythm.

“How about taking advantage of the fact that the band doesn’t have a set direction yet and trying something different? Like metalcore—it allows for a mix of guttural and melodic vocals, low tunings, and fast riffs. It keeps the sound fresh and avoids the songs blending into each other when the tracks change.” You finished your thought, and the guys exchanged looks as though a divine light had suddenly shone upon them. “Did I say something dumb?”

“Actually, you said something interesting…” Jolly seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on a wooden surface.

“Noah said you sing rock and punk at the bar where you work,” the guy holding an energy drink offered you some, but you politely declined. “Why not try doing the melodic vocals on one of our songs? I promise it’s just a test, and we’ll leave you alone afterward. But seriously, look at our desperate faces!”

Ruffilo made a dramatic pout, clasping his hands together like a kid begging for a new pet. Your body tensed at the idea of meddling where you didn’t belong, and you regretted even opening your mouth. Your gaze met Noah’s, who simply winked and nodded, his lips silently mouthing, “You’re good” over and over.

Suddenly, his hand appeared next to yours, holding a microphone. As much as you wanted to refuse, the words stuck in your throat as Noah took your hand and placed the mic in it.

There was no turning back.

“THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!” Folio yelled as he struck the final cymbal.

“You were absolutely right! We needed to combine guttural and melodic vocals!” Jolly, almost talking to himself, continued tapping his fingers on a wooden surface. He gave what looked like the shadow of a smile, and that seemed like a good sign.

“So it seems my plan worked…”

Noah surprised you by wrapping his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on your temple and lingering as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

“Plan?” You turned abruptly to face him.

“I brought you here because ever since I first saw you at the bar and we sang together, I knew I wanted you to sing with me in my band—now our band—and I won’t take no for an answer!” he declared, pinching the tip of your nose. “You’re good. You’re really good!”

Your shocked gaze flicked from him to the other band members, who looked just as excited as he was.

“Welcome to Bad Omens, little storm.”

After saying goodbye to the boys, Noah promised to drive you home. While he finished grabbing his things from the garage, you decided to step outside for some air and take the opportunity to smoke a cigarette.

Becoming the vocalist of a band at this point in your life wasn’t exactly on your bingo card for the year, and you had no idea how you’d balance it with your job at the bar, especially since saving money was still your top priority. But everything had felt so simple down there. There was no trace of her voice in your head telling you that your voice was as cursed as the abomination you were. There was absolutely nothing capable of stealing the feeling that coursed through you every time your voice and Noah’s harmonized.

It was impossible to predict where this would lead in the future, but for the first time, you felt happy. You belonged to something where you could be yourself without it costing you your freedom.

You were finally you.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the screech of tires on asphalt. Startled, you turned to see a car speeding toward you from the other side of the road, threatening to mount the sidewalk where you stood. In an impulsive move, you threw yourself to the side, landing hard on the rough, gravel-strewn ground, a gasp of pain escaping your lips.

When you looked at the car—one you knew all too well—your entire body tensed, frozen on the ground. For a moment, you forgot about the scrape on your arm as your eyes locked on the driver.

“Found you, little girl,” Seth announced, grinning beneath his scruffy beard.

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” Noah’s voice, muffled by his hurried footsteps, cut through the tension. As he approached, Seth rolled up the window and shifted into reverse, speeding away down the wrong side of the road.

When Noah got closer, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. He quickly crouched down, and you threw yourself into his arms. Without saying a single word, you clung to him so tightly that your fingers dug deep into his skin, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

“Shhh,” he whispered, wrapping his arms even tighter around you to hold you securely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But everything seemed to hit your mind all at once. In seconds, you weren’t in Noah’s arms anymore—you were somewhere else, a filthy place as vile as your skin felt and as repulsive as the stench surrounding you. Your arms and legs turned immobile, locking up like a cramp, as the sensation of him closing in grew stronger and stronger. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out. He had severed your vocal cords because he enjoyed watching you cry.

Seth had stolen everything from you. And no matter where you tried to rebuild yourself, their shadow would always be there.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @foliosgirl

[ackermommy6]

Bungo stray dogs characters and their types

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒅-Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Oda, Fyodor.

Side note- sorry everyone, I’ve been so busy with work, then I got really sick. That’s why I haven’t been writing as much but I’m getting back into it! My requests are open though so y’all can request anything. Thank you for reading loves, hope you enjoy! 🫶

Dazai Osamu

Needs someone that can put up with his ass BAHHAHA

He likes all woman, he says but he does have a type.

Feel like he likes someone that can take care of themself, and also take care of him in a motherly way?

Basically he wants you to take care of him. He lovessss someone that can cook, clean, make him take care of himself.

He wants someone that can make him go do something and he can respect.

If your with Dazai, you kinda gotta act like his mother. 😭

Someone that can put up with his silliness and be the same sometimes.

This man is touched starved, so he needs someone that can cuddle him, touch his hair, kiss him all the time.

Needs someone that can understand him. After all Dazai is not a very understanding person. No one really knows Dazai, even if your close to him. But he needs someone that can understand him like non other.

Chuuya Nakahara

Chuu likes someone that can take care of themself.

He wants someone that’s sweet and caring but scary when needs to be, and knows how to take care of themself.

He would love someone that he can laugh with and be himself around because unfortunately he doesn’t get to do that often.

He’d want someone that is sweet, like taking care of a stray animal, helping someone in need.

He needs someone that can respect that he isn’t home a lot due to the mafia and wouldn’t be able to spend much time with them.

Someone that is romantic like him. He wants you to set the dinner table when he gets home and wine at the table too. He’d love to go on fancy dinner dates too.

Someone that doesn’t keep to themselves, is very honest to him. He wants to know everything that’s wrong and he will do the same. He’ll be very loyal and understanding.

Ranpo Edogawa

Like Dazai this man needs someone that can take care of him and his laziness. 😭

He needs someone that can take care of themself and him at the same time.

Clean the house, cook for him, make him his little desserts, he doesn’t know how to do much because he usually makes Fuzazawa come over and do everything. So yes he is clueless.

He wants someone that can bake. After all this man is obviously obsessed with candy and desserts.

Spoil him. Spoil him. Spoil him.

Needs someone that will get him candy, buy him things, cuddle him whenever he wants.

Has I thing for bossy people . 🤷‍♀️ Man is obsessed when you mouth off to someone.

He likes mature people and more laidback. He needs someone that can tell him to calm down when he’s getting out of hand.

Oda Sakunosuke

I’m his type, WHATTT???

anyway.

He’d want a calm person

Someone that’s artistic, if not it’s ok too!

Needs someone that likes kids and does good with them obviously.

Someone who he can do something very chill with him like watch the stars, take walks in the park, read books with him, take naps with him.

Like Chuuya he wants someone that is very sweet and loving. Someone that will help someone in need, while you do so he’ll watch with a smile.

Someone that is very neat and polite. We all know man is very tidy and he’d love someone that’s the same.

Most likely someone that isn’t in the mafia like him. He couldn’t take you getting hurt or killed.

Needs someone that is as understanding as he is.

fyodor dostoevsky

Someone that is patient, it’ll take little while for him to get used to you.

Someone that isn’t touched starved. I feel like he doesn’t like being touched and cuddling, maybe later into the relationship small things but definitely not at first.

Someone that’s creative and passionate like he is.

He doesn’t show his emotions a lot and he’s blunt. So he needs someone that won’t be upset if he says something a little to rude.

Who isn’t scared of him. Fyodor is a scary person, he wants someone that will think that he’s divine.

Fyodor likes someone that is going to be submissive, he is going to be dominant.

Likes someone mysterious, even if he’ll figure you out in no time. He still is very interested.

Someone that understands that he’s going to be distant, he’s literally a criminal and is on the run so he won’t be around much.

[alexanderwales]

I did end up buying Tiny Glade, mostly to see whether it had something for me.

It's cute, but I think to enjoy it I need to engage my creative muscles, and when I do that, I feel restrained.

I found myself making up a story about a wizard who lived in a big tower and hired on a live-in maid. She had been brought in to tidy things up, to clean his clothes, to cook him dinner.

She had no close family, and was happy to have the cramped space at the bottom of the tower with little privacy. The wizard paid well, and she saved every scrap she could, fearing that he would be capricious. Instead he kept to himself at the top of the tower, surveying the lands and sometimes mounting expeditions that would see him gone for days, returning home sodden and with a smell of sweat soaking his clothes.

It was awkward between the two of them, not least because her bed in the bottom of the tower meant that he needed to move through her space when he wanted to come or go.

Eventually, after six months had past and she was feeling more secure in her position, she asked whether he didn't want a proper kitchen somewhere in the tower. She wanted a proper kitchen. All the meals she'd made for him had been over a campfire just outside the house, or more often, put together from pickled, chilled, or dried ingredients. He had harumphed and said that he would think about it, and she had assumed that this was his way of saying "no".

But when she came back from a trip to her estranged sister's house, the first vacation she'd asked for since taking the job, she was surprised to find that the tower had a small, single-story building at its base, built into it. She stepped through the door, feeling unsure of herself, and found that she was in a well-appointed kitchen with a cast iron stove, an ice box, two sinks, and checkered blue and white countertops. She had stared at it, befuddled, and the wizard had asked her whether it was to her liking. She had nodded, but then said that the kitchen was lacking one important thing, which was food. He'd handed her far too much money and sent her to the market.

When she returned with far too much food, she made a large dinner for the two of them, and they ate together at a small table in the kitchen, sitting on stools.

"If you can make such a thing as this kitchen over the course of a weekend," she said slowly. "Would it be possible ... would it be within your power to make me a room of my own?"

"You have a room of your own," he replied. "At the base of the tower."

"Somewhere that you didn't need to trek through," she said. "Where I wouldn't feel the need to wake early in the morning and make myself presentable in case you were going out."

He widened his eyes. "I didn't know you did that."

"I do," she replied.

"Then I'll think about it," he said.

She was more hopeful this time. It did not seem as though that meant "no". Indeed, it seemed that when the wizard said he would think about something, it meant that he was putting his considerable intelligence to the problem.

This time, she was around to see the wizard do his magic. Most of it consisted of crystals and chalks, and lengthy consultations with books that sometimes resulted in him saying a single syllable in thirty different ways, feeling which one was right. She'd had little to do in the way of her daily chores, and was past the point in her employment when she was always trying to look busy, so she watched most of it, and made them marmalade sandwiches with tea, enjoying the warm summer day. The wizard talked, explaining things to her that must have taken a decade of study for him to understand, and while it went over her head, she nodded along. He seemed to like having an audience of one.

When he was finished, the house had sprouted an extra room, far larger and more extravagant than she had been expecting. It was larger, in fact, than the room at the top of the tower the wizard lived in.

From that point onward, they were something like friends. He did more of his work outdoors, and did his reading in the kitchen, which gave them more chances to talk. The time seemed to pass more quickly. She had saved quite a bit of money by this point, and was tucking away every coin he gave her a bit less carefully. She bought a fine dress for herself, nothing too fancy but far more fair than the old one.

She came down from her room one morning to discover that a rag and brush had been enchanted to do dishes for her. She was befuddled at first, but the wizard seemed quite pleased with himself, and said that it had only taken a month or so of work. At first it felt unnatural to simply set the dirty dishes in the sink and have them be soaped and washed without her lifting a finger.

After that, the wizard entered a sort of mania. He was clearly pushing himself, spending more ever more time with his books, and every so often he would have some new miracle in the house they shared. His books sorted themselves automatically, a washtub cleaned their clothes, dust was drawn to a small bin rather than settling on their shelves. The very last straw was when the wizard made a complicated device to make dinners.

"Are you trying to replace me?" she asked.

He didn't seem to understand. "Replace you?" he asked. "Why would I ever?"

She gestured around the kitchen, which had been expanded since he'd first magicked it up. "You've been taking away my jobs one by one," she said. "If I'm not cleaning, not cooking, not putting things to order, not doing laundry or making small repairs, what use am I? And we both know that you pay me a handsome salary. I don't know a wizard's ways, but I know when preparations are being made to not have me work here."

"Ah," said the wizard. He rubbed the back of his neck. "This is terribly awkward, but you have it right. I don't wish to employ you any longer, but not because I'm hoping to replace you with magic. This was," he looked around the kitchen at all he'd done, and at the house he'd built up around the tower. "Well, I'm afraid this was all a way of courting you, but I can see that you haven't taken it as I've intended."

The maid sat there, stunned. They weren't so far apart in age, that was true, and she'd thought about it often in her first months there, sometimes trying to decide what she would do if he tried to take liberties, and later, with those thoughts tinted with fantasy rather than fear. But there were so many things they didn't know about each other, and he had always kept his distance from her, so the crush she'd carried had been smothered.

"Give me some time," said the maid as she rose from the table. "I'll think about it."

~~~~

And this is all well and good, but the game doesn't really benefit from being played in this way. Adding onto a house does not feel like organically growing a house from the story you're telling. The houses have no interiors. There aren't people. I can make a new little house off the side, for when the maid's sister comes to live with them, but it exists statically, and can only be grown in specific ways, and it pens in what's going on in my head. Constraints breed creativity is one of those old chestnuts that I think it's only somewhat true, and in this case, I find the constraints penning me in a bit too much.

Still not the worst $10 I've ever spent on a game though, and maybe arguably I'll get enough mileage out of it in the end.