#how to care for your smartwatch

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Peeping on your neighbor DILF!Getou Suguru [next]

Here I go again starting something new when my drafts are full of WIPs...

Consider this Getou's 35th bday gift 💋

[fanart by: @polariae on X (#needhim) / cw: peeping]

Everyone has guilty pleasures—secret indulgences they hide from prying eyes, vices they pretend don’t exist.

But no matter how satisfying they may be, how deeply they scratch that internal itch, reality always comes crashing down. And when it does, it cuts deep, jagged shards of shame slicing through delusion.

The worst realizations come after you’ve sunk too far, waded too deep into depravity, so numb to your own self-indulgence that you can’t even recognize it for what it is. Like the old tale of the frog in boiling water—oblivious to its slow, inevitable demise.

And right now? Being awake before even the birds have stirred, wedged between your thick curtains and the wall, peering through the narrow slit with bated breath?

That’s your boiling water.

You lift your arm carefully, tapping your smartwatch. The dim glow illuminates the numbers.

4:55 AM.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. Even the faintest intake of air feels like a risk, as if he might somehow sense your presence.

It’s happening.

Slowly, he stands from the black velvet club chair, folding his newspaper—the Times, maybe?—with meticulous precision before setting it on the bed. He stretches, arms lifting over his head, his body rolling fluidly as he shakes off the last remnants of sleep. A slow bounce on the balls of his feet. A lazy roll of his shoulders.

Then he moves toward the closet, flicking the light on.

You barely stifle a squeak.

Illuminated, his sleep-heavy eyes remain hooded, half-lidded with exhaustion. He crosses his arms over the hem of his faded gray sleep shirt and lifts it in one smooth motion. The fabric slides over his toned torso, revealing the defined cut of his V-line, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband. His flannel pants dip dangerously low on his hips.

Your mouth goes dry.

As he rifles through his wardrobe, his back muscles flex under the shifting light, honey-bronzed skin rippling as he moves. He pulls out a crisp, white button-up, holding it to the light. The subtle gleam of a barbell piercing peeks through his nipple.

You swallow—loudly.

The wet click of it makes you cringe in embarrassment, even though you’re entirely alone.

You sink down, sliding soundlessly against the wall until you’re curled into yourself, head in your hands.

I have got to get a grip.

𓂃۶ৎ

“You’ve got to get a grip.”

Across from you, Yu stares, wide-eyed and incredulous.

His big, brown eyes are filled with concern, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. He reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over your own, rubbing your knuckles in reassurance.

“I say this with the utmost love and care,” he begins, voice low and serious, “but you are genuinely starting to scare me.”

You tilt your head, amused despite yourself. Placing your other hand over his, you give him a saccharine smile.

“And I fear your love life is even scarier,” you quip, “considering you and Nanami are disgustingly smitten with each other but refuse to do anything about it.”

Yu groans, yanking his hand back as he slumps into his seat.

You’ve been working with Yu for five years now at a highly accredited education company, officially as tutors but often picking up shifts in the adjoining daycare. He’s been a constant source of fresh air in your life—unrelentingly optimistic, perpetually happy, and the only thing keeping you sane when bratty kids, back-talking teens, and overbearing parents strip away every ounce of your patience.

And for the past two years, a certain someone has been an added incentive to showing up.

Nanami Kento.

Tall, broad, devastatingly handsome. Blonde hair, sharp features, and an air of refined old money. He first enrolled his younger brother, Yuji, in tutoring classes two years ago, exasperated by the boy’s athletic prowess but academic struggles.

Nanami, ever the composed professional, is a bank analyst with little time to spare—especially for schoolwork. But despite his packed schedule, he always makes time to bring Yuji in himself. And, without fail, he always requests Yu as Yuji’s tutor.

Nanami never hovers, never interferes—but he stays. Every time. MacBook open, glasses perched low on his nose, working in the corner while his gaze flickers to Yuji…and, more often than not, lingers on Yu.

They’re not slick.

Yu, for all his confidence, is an absolute mess around Nanami. He stumbles over his words, turns an embarrassing shade of pink, and loses all train of thought. Meanwhile, Nanami remains perfectly composed—save for the occasional, barely-there smirk when Yu flusters himself into silence.

It’s infuriatingly adorable.

But despite their obvious mutual pining, neither of them has made a move. You’ve tried to nudge them along, but they’re both stubborn as hell. They have to get there on their own.

Maybe you should have a little chat with Yuji—

“Hey! Hey!”

Yu waves a hand wildly in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I know that smirk! Stop scheming.” His expression darkens. “And focus—you wanted to talk about your situation, remember? I have, like, five minutes left on my break.”

Right.

You lean back, exhaling slowly. Recounting the sick, twisted ways you’ve gone from having a harmless crush on your thirty-five-year-old neighbor to full-on stalking him is…a lot.

So you clean up the details.

You leave out the part where you wake up at the crack of dawn just to watch him get dressed. Or how you happen to be outside every afternoon when his daughters get home from school, conveniently offering them sweets as if it’s just a coincidence.

Everyone has flaws. Yours just happen to feel entirely justified every time you’re blessed with the sight of Getou Suguru—all six feet of sculpted muscle, dressed in tailored suits and expensive watches, long hair pulled into a tight bun, sharp violet eyes glinting behind sleek glasses.

And if that wasn’t enough, the way he is with his daughters—that obliterates any remaining shred of reason.

On weekends, he’s outside your apartment complex in casual clothes, guiding them along the sidewalk on their little pink tricycles. He smiles at them, warm and genuine, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

He moved in a year ago.

And in eleven months, you’ve lost a lifetime’s worth of dignity and grace thirsting over the DILF next door.

Well—not next door, but close enough. Your balconies face each other.

You discovered this little fact a couple of weeks after he moved in.

It had been a casual meeting at first—one of those neighborly exchanges where introductions are made in passing. You were returning from work, tired but relieved to be home, and he had just finished enrolling his daughters in school. He had held the lobby door open for you, a simple courtesy, saving you from the trouble of buzzing yourself in.

You’d jogged a little to close the distance, not wanting to keep him waiting. As you passed through, you turned to thank him, fully prepared to run off—but he stopped you with a radiant smile.

“Hello, I haven’t had the pleasure of introducing myself yet.” He scratched the back of his neck, letting the door swing shut behind him. “We’re new to the building.”

Then, with a gesture toward the two girls at his side, he continued, “This one’s Nanako,”—the jumpy, golden-haired child practically vibrating with energy—“and this is Mimiko.” The brunette clung to his leg, wary but curious.

“They’re adorable,” you had told them warmly.

“Now, girls, what do we say to the nice lady?”

“Thank you, nice lady!” Nanako chirped.

Mimiko mumbled a soft, “Thanks.”

Getou chuckled, ruffling her hair before leaning down to press a kiss to her crown. “Don’t be shy, honey. It’s okay.”

Mimiko tightened her grip on his leg, holding onto him as though you might whisk her father away if she let go.

As he straightened, a sharp breeze carried the scent of musky sandalwood and lavender from him, teasing your senses in a way that felt almost intimate.

“They’re still a little frazzled from the move,” he admitted in a mock whisper, “Don’t tell, but some nights I’ve been sneaking them candy for dessert—except it’s just melatonin.”

You had giggled at his confession, and his lips had ticked upward at the sound.

“I’m Getou, by the way,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But if I’ll be seeing you often, feel free to call me Suguru—I’m not uptight.”

You’d introduced yourself, mentioning that you were native to the area and worked as a tutor, meaning you were well-versed in the local children’s events. As you spoke, he listened attentively, nodding along to every other word, his eye contact steady. You had to fight every intrusive thought about how distractingly attractive he was—how much you wanted to press your tongue to the line of his jaw, trace the length of his throat.

Not the time. Definitely not the time.

By the time numbers had been exchanged for “neighborly inquiries,” you’d realized you lived on the same floor.

“Well, would you look at that~” He had chuckled, amused by the coincidence.

You’d smiled, bid the girls farewell, and assured Getou he could reach out if he ever needed anything. But the moment you turned away—oh, God. You had to fight the urge to squeal, mouthing a silent oh my God to yourself as you hurried to your apartment, barely processing the fact that an incredibly sexy dad lived just a few doors down.

Then came the accidental discovery.

The first time you caught him dressing in front of his window had been pure chance.

You’d been up early—5 AM, thanks to your turn to let in the clean-up crew for your workplace’s monthly deep clean. Half-awake and desperate for coffee, you had shuffled into your kitchen, only to catch a flicker of movement in your peripheral vision.

And there he was.

Shirtless. Wet.

His long, damp hair fell in dark ribbons down his back, droplets clinging to his skin, catching the dim morning light. He was flipping through a newspaper, one hand resting on his chin, brow furrowed in thought. His serious expression made your brain short-circuit—sending it spiraling into dangerous territory.

A strict professor making you stay after class.

A mean dom forcing you into submission.

A strict boss calling you into his office, locking the door.

You had to physically shake the thoughts away, dragging your gaze back to your coffee like it was a lifeline.

Then he cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and carefully laid a pair of black work pants across his bed, arranging his outfit with meticulous precision. That was when you realized—you had unintentionally learned his morning routine.

And you weren’t proud to admit that you had grown to love it.

Your favorite part? When he stood before the mirror, brushing out his hair.

He always looked so at peace during that ritual—like it was something grounding, something necessary. It was the last thing he did before spritzing on cologne and stepping out for the day.

Now, sitting across from Yu in the breakroom, you finally admit to your… situation.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” Yu asks, frowning. “Or—God forbid—a wife?”

You wave him off. “No way. If he had a wife, she would’ve been mentioned. Even a girlfriend—I would’ve seen her by now.”

Yu cringes. “Right.”

He places both hands flat on the table, inhaling like he is about to deliver some sage wisdom. “You need to do what I do—just keep running into him, talk to him, wear him down until you two become close.”

You give him a look. “So I can be friend-zoned for a year? No, thanks.”

Yu turns up his nose. “So rude. Even when I try to help.” He pushes back his chair dramatically. “I’ll be on my way.”

He stomps off toward the door, only to pause, his bangs brushing against his lashes as he peeks back in.

“But text me later, okay?” he says with a smirk. “We’ll figure something out if we put our heads together.”

You huff a laugh. What a sweet guy. Even your obsessive behavior hasn’t scared him away.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur. You spend the final hour tutoring Sam—a regular who somehow always smells like cheese puffs and leaves everything he touches sticky. When his dad finally picks him up, you all but shove the sign-out sheet toward him, making a beeline for the bathroom to scrub your hands clean.

𓂃۶ৎ

A hot shower is calling your name as you skillfully back into your designated parking space, humming to yourself before stepping out of the car.

The moment your foot hits the pavement, the familiar sound of drunken laughter and hollering echoes through the garage. Of course. Your downstairs neighbors—wasted out of their minds. Again. On a Wednesday.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way toward the exit, only to find yourself in full view of the rowdy group perched on the hood of a sports car parked obnoxiously across multiple spaces. Among them is a guy you’ve seen before—arguing with his then-girlfriend at ungodly hours over god-knows-what. Spiky pink hair, gelled into stiff peaks, paired with a tight white tank top despite the night chill. You’ve never spoken to him, barely spared him a glance, but tonight, for whatever reason, he has something to prove.

“YO! HEY, YO!”

You ignore him, keeping your pace steady.

“Aye, I know you hear me! C’mere real quick!”

Your jaw tightens. You shoot him a glare but don’t stop, closing the distance to the door.

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he drawls, clearly reveling in the attention of his friends. “That’s not very neighborly. I just gotta ask you a quick question.”

You exhale sharply, finally turning to face him and his little audience. “What the fuck do you want? You can ask from there.”

He scoffs, spitting onto the pavement. “Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.” He jerks his chin toward one of his friends. “My boy here thinks you look good, wanted to get them digits, but you ain’t even all that to be actin’ like this.”

A dry, humorless laugh escapes you as you prop a hand on your hip. “Funny, ‘cause from where I’m standing, you’re the one desperate for my attention. Screams ‘bitch’ to me—but go off.”

His friends snicker, their amusement only deepening his scowl. He swings his legs off the hood, standing up with an air of aggression. The moment he takes a step forward, your fingers slip into your bag, wrapping around the familiar cylinder of mace.

Six steps to the door.

His bloodshot eyes, the reek of weed clinging to his clothes—it sends your senses into high alert. If he lunges, you’ll spray him.

“Stuck-up bitch.”

A firm hand presses against the small of your back, guiding you away just as the tension peaks.

You startle, spinning with the mace raised—only to freeze when you find yourself looking up at Getou Suguru.

And he looks pissed.

Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line, the sleeves of his button-up pushed to his elbows like he’s ready to handle this personally.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Sukuna?” His voice is low, rough, demanding.

Your grip on the mace loosens as you exhale, the warmth of Getou’s hand steady on your back. You’re not helpless, but dealing with scum like Sukuna? That’s the last thing you want after a long day.

Sukuna’s posture falters for half a second before he scoffs. “Relax, man. Just wanted to talk. No need for the hero act.”

“I’m pretty sure she would’ve handled you herself,” Getou counters coolly. “But I figured I’d remind you that you’re one misdemeanor away from that assault and battery charge becoming a felony. So watch yourself.”

Sukuna’s arrogance wavers. His jaw tightens as he glances at Getou, weighing his options before choosing the safer one—retreating back to his car.

“If I catch you pulling this shit again,” Getou continues, “I’ll personally ensure you get a speedy trial—as is your constitutional right.”

The group piles into the car in tense silence. As the engine roars to life, Getou pulls his hand away from your back like he’s just realized it’s there.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to—” He sighs, shaking his head. “It just pissed me off seeing him try that with you. You don’t deserve that.”

He smiles, but there’s a quiet sadness to it, as if he’s seen too much of this before.

“I don’t think you know this,” he adds, voice softer, “but I run a non-profit for domestic violence survivors. We’ve helped house a few of Sukuna’s former partners. Got them legal support, protection. He’s—” His jaw clenches. “He’s worse than he looks.”

You take in the weight of his words. On one hand, you’re grateful for his work, knowing how important it is. On the other, the thought of Sukuna being a repeat offender makes your stomach turn.

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him, offering a small, genuine smile. “I appreciate you stepping in. Macing him would’ve ruined my whole night—pepper spray’s a bitch to wash out.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from Getou, the tension easing.

“Sure would’ve been a nuisance,” he agrees.

As you walk toward the building together, you steal a glance at him—at the way the moonlight catches in his hair, reflecting off a few stray gray strands. His jawline is sharp in the dim glow, the curve of his cheekbone accentuated in a way that makes your heart stutter. You watch as a calloused finger brushes his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear.

Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you and walks you all the way to your apartment. At your door, he rests a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Be safe,” he says. “And if you ever feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to reach out. Okay?”

You nod, feigning composure, but he sees right through it.

He narrows his eyes slightly. “Not good enough. Promise me.”

You huff, rolling your eyes before holding up a pinky. “Alright, alright. I promise.”

A slow smirk tugs at his lips as he hooks his pinky around yours, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he lets go.

“Good girl.”

The praise haunts you for the rest of the night, looping in your head like a broken record. You spend hours lying awake, spamming Yu with frantic, half-incoherent texts detailing every second of what just happened.

𓂃۶ৎ

The following week, you don’t see him—not in the hall, not in passing. And though you tell yourself you’re being ridiculous, the lack of interaction leaves you feeling… disappointed. You want to text him, but without a real reason, it feels weird. You’re just his neighbor, after all—and at least a decade younger than him.

Still, you catch glimpses of him in the mornings. His routine never changes, but you do notice something new—he’s started drinking tea with his morning newspaper.

You wonder what sparked the change.

Then, on Friday night, your phone buzzes with a notification. A text.

Getou Suguru Hello. This is Suguru, your neighbor. Got any eggs?

You stare at the screen, blinking. That is… certainly an approach.

You: I do! Need me to bring a couple over? I don’t mind.

Getou Suguru: Oh, thank god. Would you? You’re a lifesaver.

You: Yeah, it’s just eggs. I’ll be right over!

You toss your phone onto the counter, glancing down at your loungewear—a silk two-piece pajama set, your favorite. Soft to the touch, effortlessly comfortable. Deciding it’s appropriate enough given the hour, you slip on your slippers, grab the carton of eggs, and head for his door.

Getou’s apartment has a personalized doormat at the entrance, The Getou Family scripted in bold cursive. Cute. You knock lightly, mindful of any sleeping children. A few moments later, footsteps approach, and the door swings open.

And it’s… not what you expect.

Getou stands there, hand on the knob, dressed in a sleek black turtleneck and chocolate-brown cargos—an effortlessly clean-cut look if not for the pink, frilly “Kiss the Cook” apron haphazardly tied around his waist. His long hair is braided loosely over his shoulder, stray strands falling over his forehead, and he looks utterly defeated—his entire body dusted in flour, even in his hair.

You giggle before you can stop yourself.

“Finding humor in my misery, are we?”

You barely manage to stifle your laughter behind your hand as he steps aside, ushering you in.

“Maybe just a little.” You poke at the apron first, smirking. “Well, don’t you look adorable?”

He swats your hand away with a playful huff, taking the eggs from you and leading the way into the kitchen—which is immediately visible. And immediately disastrous.

Flour streaks the counters. Sugar coats one side of the island. Three bowls, filled with dough in various colors, sit among a chaotic spread of every imaginable baking utensil. The only thing not in complete disarray is the rest of the apartment—modern, sleek black decor, perfectly organized, with a wall full of adorable photos of the girls over the years.

You whistle, taking it all in. “My god… what did you do?”

Getou sighs, brushing off flour from his sleeve in a half-hearted attempt to clean himself.

“My buddy Gojo had the girls today. Took them to a science museum, then dinner, and spoiled them, so naturally, they will be too hyped to care about me when they get home.” He gestures vaguely to the mess. “Thought I’d win them back over with homemade cookies since they love sweets. As you can see, I’m not exactly a natural.”

You move to the island, flipping an overturned bag of flour upright, salvaging whatever hasn’t already been sacrificed to the countertop.

“Clearly.”

Getou grabs an egg and cracks it over a bowl of light caramel-colored dough.

“Hey, I can’t be good at everything.”

You squint at his movements, catching the inconsistency in his technique. “Still cocky, huh?”

You peer into the bowl. This is definitely his third attempt at the dough.

“Instead of making another batch, maybe try tasting this one first? Are you even following a recipe?”

He taps sugar-dusted fingers against his chin. “Not exactly. I was going off memory. My mom used to make cookies for me when I was little, but… I may have mixed up a few ingredients.”

Before he can stop you, you dip a finger into the dough and bring it to your mouth.

“Don’t do that!” He wags a flour-covered finger at you, scandalized. “There’s raw egg in there—you’ll get salmonella.”

You grin, unfazed. “It’s just a little taste. And I can tell you’re missing vanilla. The sweetness is off, and it’ll help bind the flavors together.”

His violet eyes widen slightly before lighting up in realization. “Oh, right! Of course! Let me add some!”

Watching him scramble around the kitchen, searching for the vanilla like a deer learning to walk, is nothing short of endearing.

Together, you tweak the recipe—adding a little cinnamon, a sprinkle of nutmeg, some roughly chopped pecans. He lifts a mixing spoon to your lips, and you taste again.

This time? Sweet, only a hint of saltiness, and the nutty pecans bring a rich depth to the dough.

“It’s perfect,” you declare. “We can roll it out now.”

You hadn’t exactly planned for your Friday night to be overtaken by this bumbling, flour-dusted dad, but somehow, you don’t mind. You take turns rolling and flattening the dough before he slides the tray into the oven. Already, you’ve started cleaning—scooping up flour piles, bagging ingredients, restoring order to the battlefield.

“You don’t need to do that,” Getou protests, frowning. “You’ve done enough. Sit down.”

You comply halfway, still gathering loose flour into the bin. He pours you a glass of water and begins wiping down his own mess.

“Where’d you learn how to bake?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a baker,” you say, shrugging. “But working with kids, having treats around helps as a motivator. So I picked up a few simple recipes.”

He nods, impressed, running a damp rag over his flour-streaked shirt. His glasses have slipped down his nose, the lenses smudged from dirty hands.

“Suguru,” you say, deadpan, “go clean yourself up. I’ll finish here.”

He grimaces at the kitchen’s state, then exhales in surrender. “You’re a saint. I’d hate for the girls to see this mess when I’m always nagging them to keep their rooms spotless.” He presses a thumb to his brow. “Turns out, I’m quite the hypocrite.”

You methodically put the kitchen back in order, enjoying the gradual return to cleanliness. By the time Getou re-emerges, the only mess left is on his apron. His hair is pulled up in a loose bun, and he shoots you a wink.

“Right on time.”

As if on cue, the oven alarm dings. He pulls the tray out, setting it on the stove. The scent of buttery, warm sweetness fills the air. You inhale deeply, taking a seat at the barstool beside the counter.

Getou leans down, elbows propped against the surface, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Well, wouldn’t you say we make a per—”

“DADDY!!”

The door slams open, and Nanako barrels inside, launching herself at Getou’s waist.

“Daddy! Daddy! Guess what Satoru got us?!”

Laughing, he lifts her up, ruffling her hair as she clings to his neck. Gojo enters right behind, overloaded with shopping bags, white hair slightly tousled, Cartier shades barely hiding his mischievous blue eyes. Mimiko shuffles in, latched onto his pant leg.

Gojo smirks. “Took them on an all-you-can-grab shopping spree. Fun, right?” He inhales, pausing. “Mm, something smells good—wait. Suguru. Did you actually—” His gaze lands on you, and his smirk sharpens. “Well, well. Who’s this?”

You quickly stand, waving your hands. “Just a neighbor! Suguru needed eggs, and, well…” You gesture vaguely toward the cookies. “I took pity on his baking skills.”

Gojo snorts. “Little did you know, you probably just saved this entire building from being burned down.”

Getou shoves his shoulder. Gojo nearly drops a bag, grinning.

“Hey girls,” he calls, heading down the hall. “Make sure to thank your dad for wearing the special apron I got him! And don’t forget—no kiss, no cookie!”

Nanako gasps, eyes wide. “Oh! Before you go—you have to give Daddy a kiss too! Or no cookie!”

Mimiko nods solemnly. “No kiss, no cookie. Right, Daddy? Or were you lying?”

You laugh at Getou’s panicked expression.

With exaggerated effort, you stretch onto your toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the edge of his jaw.

“There. No lies.”

You grab your cookie and eggs, heading for the door. “Thanks for the treat! Have a good night, guys!”

As you step out, you catch one last glimpse—Getou, frozen, cheeks tinged pink, his jaw still faintly glossed from your kiss.

Munching on your cookie, you grin.

Bless those kids.

𓂃۶ৎ

The next morning, you wake up lazily, blissfully, embarrassingly late—somewhere around noon. A rare luxury. You stretch across your bed, basking in the slow start to the day before slipping into an easy, indulgent routine.

A long, hot shower.

A hearty, homemade brunch.

A carefully curated R&B playlist humming in the background.

You take your time with the little things—styling your hair, finally trying that shower steamer you’ve been saving, relishing a morning that’s just for you. It’s been a while since you’ve allowed yourself to unwind like this, especially since you’ve just started refraining from peeking in on the DILF next door.

Not that you’ve been thinking about him. Not at all.

The sun is bright today, the perfect excuse to go for a walk. Maybe you’ll drop by Yu’s place—figure out how your night will unfold from there. Something lively, hopefully.

Locking up, you head downstairs, offering nods to other tenants as you step outside. And then—

Giggling. Light, carefree, unmistakable.

You don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“Daddy, look! It’s the Cookie Lady!”

“Hi, Cookie Lady!”

You exhale, shaking your head. You vividly remember introducing yourself properly, but kids? Selective memory at its finest.

Sure enough, Nanako and Mimiko are on their pink tricycles, zooming across the pavement while Getou lingers nearby, guiding them like a watchful shadow.

You wave at the girls first, playing along. “Wow, you two are going so fast! Don’t run me over!”

They giggle, swerving dramatically around you as you pretend to stumble back. Behind them, Getou smiles—warm, effortless, like the sun overhead.

You move closer, eyes flicking over him instinctively.

Baggy denim. A beige sweater. A classic dad fit.

Only… the sweater’s losing a battle against the curve of his bicep, the fabric stretching just a little too tightly over muscle. And his arms—the shape of them, the way the fleece clings to his forearms—

You look away fast. Which is no reprieve because now you’re staring into his eyes—deep purple, sunlit flecks of magenta making them shimmer.

His lashes are obnoxiously thick. Prettier than yours, even with volumizing mascara.

Unfair.

“Any disasters for me to clean up today?” you tease, breaking eye contact.

His chuckle is low, warm, easy. His chest shakes lightly. “Not today. Yet. But can I keep you on call just in case?”

You shrug. “I’m around. And honestly? I could never say no to someone with such adorable little girls.”

Getou hums, eyes drifting toward his daughters, who are now engaged in a very serious race down the sidewalk—little hands swatting at each other as they try to throw the other off course.

“Adorable, yes. But don’t let them fool you.” He sighs. “They’re little devils in disguise.”

You laugh. “That’s just the age. They’re curious about everything. Had a kid at work raid my purse once during a session. Looked away for two seconds, and when I turned back, he was wearing a menstrual pad like a hat.”

Getou snorts. Catches himself. Coughs into his fist. “You’re lying.”

“I wish.”

His laughter fades into something softer. Thoughtful. His brows knit slightly.

“…I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but hearing stuff like that—feminine products, girl things—I get anxious. It’s hard, raising two girls alone.”

Your chest tightens at the look on his face. The quiet weight of it.

Without thinking, you reach for his hand.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much, but I’ve worked with kids for years,” you say gently. “And I can spot a good parent a mile away. Even with our limited interactions, Suguru, you are one of the most doting fathers I’ve ever met.”

His fingers tighten around yours. Then his other hand clasps over the top, warm, grounding.

“I appreciate that,” he murmurs. “You’re pretty wise for your age.”

You scoff. “Of course. Women mature years faster than men. Be careful—your girls might surpass you before you know it.”

And then—

A piercing shriek cuts through the air.

“D-Daddy! T-The cat scratched me!”

Both of you snap to attention.

Mimiko is curled up on her bike, terrified, while Nanako sits on the pavement beside her toppled tricycle, clutching her arm. Across from her, a fat black cat hisses, back arched.

Getou is already moving. He scoops Nanako into his arms just as the cat lets out a low, guttural growl. You think you see it pounce, but it’s all a blur. You barely register Getou kicking at the ground near it before you swoop in, lifting Mimiko onto your hip and retreating toward the apartment.

By the time you make it inside, the girls’ tear-streaked faces are devastating.

Getou fumbles with his keys, cursing under his breath.

Nanako—the little mimic—parrots him perfectly.

“Shit, fuck!”

“Shi—crap!” he corrects quickly. “No, no, sweetie, Daddy said a bad word. I was just scared you were hurt.”

Inside, Getou heads straight to the bathroom, setting Nanako on the closed toilet lid while you settle Mimiko on the sink. He wets a rag, voice gentle, soothing.

“Can I see your arm, Nana?”

She nods, sniffling. Brave. Mimiko leans forward, eyes wide as she watches her sister.

Getou is careful. Tender hands. Steady voice. He dabs at the scratch, applies ointment, murmurs reassurances as Nanako flinches. A patient, loving father.

And God help you, but it makes him even more attractive.

Once the bandage is in place, Nanako puffs up proudly.

“See, Mimi? I’m too strong for that old cat!”

Getou lifts her up, but as he does, you notice—his sweater has a tear along the back. The fabric darker, wet.

Blood.

“Hey girls,” you say gently. “Why don’t you go play? I’ll help your dad clean up. You were both so brave.”

They perk up instantly, rushing out with another fit of giggles.

Getou starts to wave you off. “I’m fine, don’t—”

“Suguru,” you deadpan. “The cat sliced through your shirt. Let me clean it up.”

He sighs but relents, settling on the toilet lid.

“How do you keep ending up rescuing me?” he muses. “I thought we had a back-and-forth thing going on.”

You snort, swatting his arm before carefully lifting his shirt, rolling it up so he can hold it in place and inspect the scratch. It’s deep—deeper than you’d expect—so the cat must have been a stray with nails sharp enough to cut like that. Skimming your fingers over the wound, you feel Getou’s breath hitch. You murmur a quiet apology before rewetting the rag and dabbing at the injury to clean it properly.

You’ve seen Getou’s bare back more times than you’d like to admit, but up close like this? It’s a whole other story. And—selfishly—you envy the cat for being the one to leave marks on him instead of you.

His broad shoulders shift under your touch, deltoids flexing with every small wince. His spine curves smoothly, leading to two faint indentations at the small of his back. Back dimples.

You suppress the ridiculous urge to trace them with your fingers.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand—reapplying the ointment before resting your hands lightly on his shoulders.

“I think I’m done,” you say, voice steady despite the very unsteady state of your thoughts. “Your scratches are deeper, though, so I wouldn’t bandage them up just yet. They need to breathe so the skin can heal properly.”

Getou hums, the vibrations buzzing through your palms.

“In that case, I’ll just take this off.” He grips the fabric at the back of his collar, crossing his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head in one smooth motion—something you’ve seen him do a million times before.

But somehow, this time feels entirely different.

And suddenly, you’re questioning whether today is the best day of your life—or the worst, because temptation is sitting right in front of you, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

You poke lightly at the scratch, half out of curiosity, half as an excuse to let your eyes wander. A few scars, pink and raised, wrap around from his ribs. A couple of small, cute moles sit just below his nape.

“—tter.”

You blink. Wait. He was talking?

“Hm?”

Getou chuckles, low and amused. “I said, poking at it like that isn’t gonna help.” His lips curve into something teasing. “Be a sweetheart and kiss it better for me?”

His deep voice lilts, gentle but dripping in lazy, playful seduction.

Heat floods through you instantly.

But you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

Steeling yourself, you swallow down the butterflies flapping violently in your chest and school your expression into something cool, composed.

“I don’t think that’s how healing works,” you muse, smoothing your fingers over his warm shoulder. “But if you insist…”

You lean in, lips parting as you move closer—so close that you can feel his warmth against your mouth. But just as you’re about to press the kiss to his skin, you pause. Then, with deliberate slowness, you pull back, kiss your own palm, and press it firmly against his wound instead.

“I think that’s the best I can do, Suguru,” you say, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t want to get antibiotics all over my lips.”

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard, before huffing out a laugh.

“Clever.”

Then, before you can react, he shifts—adjusting his position so that you’re kneeling between his legs. His arms rest lazily over his thighs, dark eyes watching you with soft amusement.

He pouts.

Pouts.

Which, despite being a fully grown man, still looks unreasonably cute on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Guess we’ll have to make do,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “Right here is also acceptable.”

He puckers his lips dramatically, raising a brow, but he doesn’t move closer. Just waits. Daring you.

So that’s how he wants to play it.

Your hands slide up to rest lightly on his knees, and you lean in—slow, deliberate. Your noses brush, and you let your breath fan against his lips, lingering.

“I’ll make it all better,” you murmur.

Then, finally, you press your lips to his—soft, warm, deliberate.

His lips are plush, moving against yours in a slow, languid rhythm. One of his hands lifts to cup your cheek, thumb grazing your jaw, keeping you there just a moment longer before you pull back.

But he doesn’t let go.

“It still hurts,” he says, voice lower, gaze heavier. “Try again.”

You let out a breathless laugh but comply, leaning in again. This time, he meets you halfway, mouth parting slightly as his tongue just barely brushes against your bottom lip. You sigh into him, fingers instinctively threading into his hair—his stupidly soft, midnight-black hair. The loose bun falls apart easily, strands tumbling over his shoulders.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are dark, half-lidded, hungry.

“Again,” he breathes.

But just as he leans in to kiss you—

“Why are you kissing Daddy?”

The two of you jolt apart like you’d been electrocuted.

Your head whips to the side, heart lurching.

Nanako stands in the doorway, arms crossed, staring point-blank at the two of you with the unimpressed authority of a child who has just caught an adult doing something stupid.

Mimiko peeks out from behind her, brows furrowed in confusion.

Getou fumbles for an excuse, visibly panicking, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Kiss the Cook?”

Nanako squints. “But Daddy, there’s no cookies.”

𓂃۶ৎ [Tentative taglist: @mentallyillcore]

[thehandsresisthim]

“tranquility” II.

part one: https://www.tumblr.com/thehandsresisthim/760808090797064192/tranquility-contains-yandere-link-botwtotk-x

contains: yandere link (botw/totk) x reader, nothing too explicit, but still 18+, ise-kaid reader but it kinda just starts when you’re already in hyrule, maybe i’ll post the next ‘chapters’ the following weeks if i remember to ehem

word count: ~1500

You’re seriously having a blast, walking through the trees and picking up random mushrooms - but only the ones that he deemed safe. It’s a pretty relaxing activity. You also manage to find some apples - although you have to jump a bit to get them.

You smile at the memory of Link having to climb up one of the trees to reach a particularly high up apple - and then you had just jumped up a little and got it for him. You catch yourself thinking that the height difference between the both of you is cute.

You place all of your findings in your tote bag. Although you originally planned on using it for shopping… getting isekai’d whilst holding onto your luggage at the train station certainly had its advantages.

You hope that your bulkier belongings, and the suitcase itself, are still safe at the village you left it at. Although your dead laptop is certainly useless here, except perhaps for the rare materials inside of it, you still somehow hope that you’ll be able to take it back with you, should you return home.

Home… you wonder how time works in this weird setup. You hope that once you get home - well, back at the train station you first disappeared from, maybe - no time at all has changed. But you don’t know.

You try to shake the thought away. Link had made it very clear to the family he left your suitcase with that they’re not supposed to touch it, and although you appreciate how careful he is with your belongings… you thought that ominously grabbing the handle of his sword whilst speaking was a bit much. Maybe that was just how he was used to handling things…

You kneel down in order to get a look at another mushroom. As you pick it up, you notice that the forest floor has completely dried, and as you walk towards a spot where the treetops don’t connect, you close your eyes for a moment and soak in the sun.

It has since moved up from its previous spot quite a bit - although it is not noon yet, now, everything is fully illuminated. On instinct, you reach for your wrist to have a look at your watch - only to find nothing there. One of the downsides of owning a smartwatch. You had taken it off and left it in the suitcase once the battery died, same as your headphones, phone, iPad and laptop.

You hope that you weren’t gone for too long. Luckily, the big mountain to your left is a clear indicator of where to find the temporary camp, since you stayed relatively close to it, so you know which direction you have to go in. You slowly make your way through the trees. The last few metres of walking are especially easy; you can see the fire by now.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

He wants to scream in frustration. How could he be so caught up in his fantasy about a future with you, that he didn’t manage to notice you disappearing? There’d be no future with you if you were gone… he gets sick just thinking about it.

Something must’ve taken you. Probably some monster… it’s probably attempting to use you as bait. He wants to punch something in anger; how dare they! He has to get you back, and then, you’re never, never leaving his sight again. How could he have let that happen? You’re so precious, so fragile, you’ve never even held a sword in your life. You’re defenceless.

He’s supposed to be your defence. He’s held a sword since he could walk. He defeated another knight in combat when he was four. He’s made to fight monsters and to protect you so that you can be fragile and precious and defenceless. Since he’ll always be there to fill those roles for you.

He begins to follow the footsteps you left in the mud. The imprints on the bottom of the shoes are rather peculiar. It looks a bit like a star at some part of the pattern. He asked about it when you first came here. You had told him that the shoes were called ‘conversion’ or something along those lines.

He had thought that that was very interesting, however, a spark of jealousy burned in his chest when he discovered that a male's name was written in cursive near the star logo on the sides of the shoe. You had chuckled a little bit when he asked about it, and told him that it was simply the name of the man involved in creating the shoes.

This calmed him down a little. Still, a part of him couldn’t wait until the shoes wore down enough so that he could buy you a nice pair of boots. Only the best for you… precious you, fragile you, probably currently held hostage by some monster… His anger flared up again.

He now walks a bit quicker, and noticed how irregular the pattern you walked was - almost like you were running from tree to tree. You probably tried to fight off or escape your attacker… he growls a little from anger. You shouldn’t have to fight. He’s the one who should be fighting. You’re not made for swords and arrows and shields and bows. That should be his burden to carry. He’s even angrier that he made it yours. He’ll never let that happen again.

He quickly turns around, back to the camp, as he hears someone walk towards it. He’s not close enough to make out who’s coming closer just yet. Was it some monster, looking to steal something? Trying to mock him for losing you? He draws his sword.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

You get closer and closer to the fireplace, tote bag slung over your shoulder. You notice that you somehow ended up walking a half-circle around the camp. You had left the camp with the mountain to your left, and now, it’s on your left again. You look around. Your travelling companion is nowhere to be seen.

You shrug and walk towards the fire and place the tote bag near the bundled up bedroll. You sit down by the fire. You close your eyes.

But you’re only granted a minute of relaxation, before the noise of a bunch of… angry-sounding footsteps, in rapid succession, sound out near you. You open your eyes and whip around.

Your hand reaches into the left front pocket of your pants, reaching for your knife. You pry open your pocket knife and grasp the handle tightly in your dominant hand.

You squint your eyes, trying to make out where the noise is coming from - but you can’t make out anyone. ‘Fuck!‘ you think, and try to focus harder.

‘Maybe it’s an invisible monster!‘ some part of your mind suggests. ‘If it already got him, you’re definitely screwed!‘

You decide to continue to stay in place, near the fireplace. You try to focus on your breathing. Maybe the monster hasn’t seen you yet. Maybe you’re still safe…

You see movement between the trees… It’s humanoid, at the very least. You squint your eyes again… it’s coming closer…

Thinking swiftly, you quickly hide behind a nearby tree. It‘s older than the thinner trees, and therefore, thick enough to easily hide you. You don’t really know what to do next…

The tree seems rather sturdy… maybe you should climb it? Maybe that‘ll keep the monster(s?) off your back…

A scream of your name pulls you away from your thoughts.

You stick your head out from behind the tree, and see Link running towards you.

“Hello, wha-“ is all you manage to get out, before the hero throws his arms around you, causing you to drop your pocket knife as he’s engulfing you in a heartfelt hug.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…” he repeats over and over, mumbling into your shirt, his head pressed against your chest. Is he… crying a little?

You somewhat awkwardly return the hug. “Link?” you ask in a confused tone. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“It-it’s all my fault!” the hero whimpers, “I was too focused on making food, and when I turned around, you were- you were-“

“Uhm… I was foraging. Looking for mushrooms.” You show him the tote bag, filled with different mushrooms.

This explanation doesn’t seem to calm him down. “I-I left you out of my sight… anything could’ve happened to you… This area is dangerous… What if you encountered a monster? Or tripped and fell? Or accidentally ran into something, or, or…” He cries out. “I can’t… Never again, please…”

“O…okay…” you answer and hug the hero a little tighter. You think that this is a bit excessive. Then again… he knows the area, and the monsters, better than you do. And, if the few bits you know of his life until he met you are anything to go by, he surely has experienced a lot of loss in his life… You can understand why he wouldn’t want to risk more.

“Please, promise me, please… never again…” his grip on you tightens and he seems to shiver. You gently begin to play with his hair, in an effort to calm him. “I…I won’t do that again. I promise you.” He looks more content. After a few more moments of hugging you, he breaks up the hug. He sniffles a little and smiles up at you.

“We… we should avoid sleeping outside as much as possible.” he says in a matter-of-fact voice. You nod. “That makes sense.”

thank you for reading! part one❤️

tags: @danyzta @shaq-27

masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/thehandsresisthim/639773633401831424

[hxzbinwrites]

Idk if you do headcanons or one shots but either or will be fine:

Can I pretty please get a Vox x Emotionless! Reader?

Plot can be whatever you want but just to (hopefully) give some ideas… maybe Vox had no interest in Reader but then uh oh she smiled! Now Vox has a crush (°▽°)

But yeah lol thank you!! Have a good day!

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Lovestruck Fool |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is a horrible boss

10:00am

(Y/n) walked into Vox’s office, holding an folder with today’s date and Vox’s name on it.

“Mr. Vox.” She said, her dead eyes watching her boss turn around in his excessively large chair.

“Hm, what is it (Y/n)?” He said, giving her a single glance before turning back to his monitors

“You have three meetings today sir. 1:00pm with Velvette in her portion of the tower. 2:30pm with Valentino in the main conference room, and someone scheduled a 4:00 with you, a Mr. Alastor? Called in today for an urgent meeting.”

Vox slammed his hands down on the desk, his face glitching in seething anger. “THAT PRICK!! CALL BACK AND TELL HIM I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING ANY SORT OF MEETING WITH HIM!!”

“He called from a public telephone sir, I can’t trace the caller ID.” (Y/n) said, clearly unfazed by his temper tantrum.

“DAMN IT!” He said, punching a smaller monitor on his right,”DONT YOU EVER LET HIM SCHEDULE ANOTHER MEETING WITH ME OR VOXTECH EVER AGAIN!!!”

Vox turned around, pointing one of his clawed fingers in your deadpanned face.

“Okay sir, is that all?”

“UGH!!” He said, clenching his fists to his side,”WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? IM AN OVERLORD, I AM THE VOX, YOU SHOULD BE QUIVERING IN FEAR!! IM YELLING MY HEAD OFF AT YOU AND YOU CANT EVEN FORM AN EXPRESSION?? ARE YOU BRAINDEAD??”

(Y/n) slowly blinks, before looking down and rummaging through the folder she still held. “Ah, I almost forgot. Mr. Alastor requested his meeting also in the main conference room. If you need another reminder about your meetings today just call me-“

She was cut off once more by Vox, screaming and yelling, throwing things hazardously across the room. “JUST LEAVE.”

“Alright sir.” (Y/n) said, immediately turning away and walking towards the door.

————

4:45pm

(Y/n) was at her desk, taking calls and rearranging Vox’s schedule for tomorrow when her work phone buzzed.

“Hello? This is (Y/n) with Voxtech. How may I-“

“(Y/n). My office. Now.”

“Sir? This isn’t your work phone number? How can I be sure that this is-“

“MY OFFICE. NOW.”

(Y/n) could hear his voice glitching over the phone before she hung up, and briskly made her way to the door of his office.

She walked in to his Vox in his obnoxiously large chair, his hands covering his screen as he sighed in exhaustion.

“Ah, sir. You called me?”

“Yes (Y/n). I have installed safety features into your desk. Don’t except meetings from Alastor. If he comes in here, press the button under your monitor. He is NEVER allowed in this building.”

“Okay sir.” She said, making a note of that on her smartwatch,”Will that be all?”

“Can you get me a coffee…?”

“Right away sir.”

————

5:00pm

“Here’s your coffee sir.” (Y/n) said, setting it in his outreached hand.

“Thank you (Y/n)” He said, taking a single sip before doing a spit take. On one of the monitors around the city, it showed Velvette and Alastor chatting to one another.

“WHAT?!?” Vox yelled, being as “careful” as he usually is, his coffee flies into the air before landing on his shirt. He hissed in pain at the hit liquid, scrambling around before tripping on the various wires around his monitor setup (that was replaced after his previous temper tantrum) and landing on his ass.

Vox looked up in shock to see (Y/n) covering half of her mouth, revealing a smile. Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to respectfully hold in her laughter.

Vox’s face felt red hot. Out of embarrassment and admiration. Why didn’t she smile more? Oh that smile, if she could remove her hand it would reveal its full glory. Let him soak it in. Her eyes filled with life and laughter. Has she always been this….beautiful? Yes, I think she has. She has indeed.

She let out a little snort before regaining her composure, before crouching down in front of him, taking the napkins provided with the coffee, and starting to wipe off as much of the liquid as possible. He felt her delicate hands rub across his chest. He hope she didn’t feel his erratic heartbeat.

He wanted this. He’s yearned for this and he didn’t even know it. Vox’s breathing became as erratic as his heartbeat, almost in sync. He felt sweat starting to drip, wether it be from the hot coffee adorning his now ruined shirt or from the stunning woman and her hands on his chest.

Trying to get as much as she could, (Y/n) scooted even closer, not realizing her hips were hovering right over his. Vox’s mind was running wild, his screen glitching and flicking between different error signals. His hands floating near the handles of her hips. Taking a gulp, he almost put his hands on her skin. Almost. He ended up just leaving his hands there, leaving a ghostly stabilization to the assistant who was cleaning him up like a toddler who spilt his apple juice.

(Y/n) looked up at Vox’s eyes, their eyes locking onto one another. A small smile could be faintly seen across her lips before it went back to its neutral state.

She helped him to his feet, her soft hands gently pulling on his clawed ones, slowly helping him to his feet. Handing him the remaining napkins. “I’ll schedule a trip to the dry cleaners. Does 3:45 tomorrow work well for you?”

Vox sat back down, his eyes wide in shock from what just happened. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that done, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

(Y/n) walked out, the door closing behind her. Leaving the room back in it’s inky black darkness, with the exception of the glowing monitors.

Vox looked at his reflection in the main monitor. He could see his goofy smile. His blush adorning his cheeks. His eyes lighting up like a child who knows no sin. He looked like what he was, a lovestruck fool. A lovestruck fool for his assistant.

————

Word Count: 1006

(sorry it’s so short, i’m trying to get as many requests done as i can 😭)

[chanranghaeys]

🚬 "got a light?"

While having dinner with his hyungs, Dino decides to step out for some air. Then he sees you, minding your own business as you burn out your cigarette after a long day. He thinks to himself, “Maybe you can see me, too.”

pairing: idol!dino x gn!restaurant worker!reader word count: 2.6k tags: slice of life, angst with comfort, open ending 💔, idol!dino is very, very tired :( warnings: anxiety and overwhelm, self-doubt, impostor syndrome, use of cigarettes and vapes, money?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You enter a secluded room in the corner of the izakaya and boisterous laughter fills your ears. Good thing those inside the room were able to control their movements lest their clapping and shoving come into contact with you and make you drop the tray balanced on your hand, full as it already was.

This isn’t the first time, though. You’ve served this bunch of guys loads of times—they’re as regular to this izakaya as you are. And of course, you know who they are—Seventeen, one of the biggest names in K-pop nowadays.

You didn’t even know much about them at first, but this quickly changed when you realized how frequently they visited. Honestly, they aren’t even the only idols who frequent this Japanese restaurant, but you come to realize that this one is Seventeen’s particular favorite.

Everyone knows when they come to the izakaya. After the shift, the whole staff receives a large sum of extra cash whenever these boys visit. It’s obviously a huge tip to make sure none of you leak their location when they’re there—your boss made that especially clear after the first time.

Today though, it was just four of the members—Joshua, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Dino—and their manager. In fact, you almost didn’t recognize them as they’ve all changed their hair cuts and colors again.

But their polite demeanor never fails to make you genuinely smile whenever they are there. That, and their crazy jokes and antics, no matter how many members were eating at the same time.

You expertly weave your way around the table and set down the contents of your tray. The boys look in anticipation at the plates of sushi, sashimi, and maki. As soon as they said their thank you’s and you were out of the frame, Dokyeom instantly whipped out his phone.

*chalkak*

You laughed in your head. It was always Dokyeom who took the first pictures. The other members followed suit, but Dino was the first to pick up his chopsticks after. Dokyeom wasn’t done, shifting his phone’s focus from the sushi to his dongsaeng, who immediately picked up on what his hyung was doing.

“Oh, Dino-ya, always camera-ready nowadays!” Exclaimed Joshua. Jeonghan chuckled and followed his dongsaeng’s cue to start eating because he knew how hungry and tired they were. You overheard them talking about a shoot they just finished as you entered and how the others went straight home and crashed on their beds.

Dino gave a final serious look towards his hyung’s phone with a final *chalkak*. “Ah, thank you, thank you. Always gotta have a smile on your face. Isn’t that the life of an idol?” Dino laughed lightly, but you noticed a heavy sigh as he said that.

‘Huh,’ you thought.

While standing at the door of the room waiting for any additional requests, your smartwatch vibrated lightly, signaling your shift break. You slipped out of the room quietly to more noise from the izakaya’s other tables outside.

You weren’t quiet enough though, because while the others were talking about the next story, Dino heard the shift of the sliding door to see you go out of their room. He was silently grateful that you were the one serving them today.

He’s always noticed how particularly careful and respectful you were with them, as outlandish and chaotic as they all were whenever they were together. He couldn’t forget that one drunken night with his 12 hyungs in this izakaya a few months ago.

Dino was surprisingly not drunk—but his Seungkwan hyung was. Dino naturally assumed the caretaker role and quickly realized he was not the best at it when he realized Seungkwan was gone. His other hyungs didn’t notice it right away either. He went out and straight to the comfort room to see the door wide open.

Seungkwan was standing over the sink, his head hung low. And you were beside Seungkwan, rubbing his back and holding a glass of water ready for him to drink. You’ve had enough experience in this department—personal and professional—to know what to do.

“Hyung!” You and Seungkwan turned to see Dino walking towards the open comfort room door.

“Dino-yaaaaa,” Seungkwan dragged out the last syllable as he reached out for his dongsaeng and hugged him.

“Ah, uri hyung, extra clingy whenever he’s drunk.” He laughed and you belatedly registered that he was talking to you.

You gave an awkward laugh and extended your hand with the glass of water. “Oh! I’m so sorry for the trouble, you really didn’t have to!” Dino said as he took the glass from your hand.

“It’s nothing, we’re used to it really. He isn’t the first idol we’ve seen like this here.”

Dino rubbed the back of his neck out of secondhand embarrassment. “Really? Well…thank you for taking care of him. We’ll be heading back then.” He bowed slightly—as much as he could while supporting his hyung—and walked back to the room.

You followed them from a distance just in case. When they were back in their room, you headed straight back into the kitchens.

That night, your manager pulled you aside after distributing the day’s tips and handed over a separate envelope once most of the staff were out of sight. “Seems you did well today. Their manager asked to give this one to you personally.” You looked down at the envelope and read the hastily written note.

Thank you for caring. – 이찬

Lee Chan? You search the name online and see Dino’s face on your phone. You had a hunch Dino was just a stage name, but seeing his real name piqued your interest. Only a single letter? And why did he sign this off with his real name? You opened the envelope to see a stack of bills twice the amount you received in tips tonight.

This generous gift allowed you to buy a new phone and smartwatch, the same one you’re wearing now to keep track of your health with the long shifts and extended work hours. You can’t complain much though, you chose to be in the food service industry, among others.

You signal your co-worker for a quick substitution. He checks his watch and nods, walking toward your abandoned post. You put on a hoodie and grab your small crossbody bag, exit through the kitchens, and out the back entrance. The clamor of the izakaya turned into muted urban sounds as you closed the door behind you.

You take in the cool night breeze as you bury into your hoodie. From your bag, you take out a cigarette and light it, savoring the lightheaded feeling it gives you before blowing out the smoke.

“Got a light?”

You whip your head towards the familiar yet disconnected voice coming from a guy with dark jeans and a black hoodie—luxury-branded, of course. That’s how you recognize him.

“Dino-ssi.”

“Please, call me Chan.” He holds up his right hand, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

This surprises you. This guy is an idol, he'd never dare be seen in public with a cigarette in his hand, much less lit and resting inbetween his lips.

You look him up and down and say, "Maybe you should put that hood up over your baby pink hair before you ask me questions like that."

Belatedly, he realized this and did as you said. He hoped no one saw that. “Thanks,” he says while taking a step closer toward you and raising the cigarette in his hand again. “So?”

You close the distance between you two and offer him your lighter. Instead, he places the cigarette between his lips and leans toward your hand. ‘Okay then,’ you think, taking this cue to ignite the lighter in your hand as he leans in closer to light the tip of the cigarette.

“Seventeen’s Dino smokes, huh?” You say in a hushed voice out of respect. He lowers the hood over his eyes.

“Socially…occasionally. I just forgot my vape at home.”

“Oh, so Seventeen’s Dino smokes and vapes. Do you just happen to have a stash of cigarettes in your pocket handy, then?”

He smirks. “You think I’m the only one in the group who smokes? And please, call me Chan.” He says this and drops all modes of formality. So you do the same.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to hear that name right now. At least, just for tonight.”

You nod. “Okay. Chan.” You both continue taking drags, smoke rising from the shadows of the dark alley. And you decide to break the silence.

“Why’d you give me the money?”

“I wanted someone to see me.”

“With money? Thousands of your fans around the country—around the world—already see you. And mind you, they already pay a lot of money to do so.”

“They see Dino. They hear Dino. They watch Dino. Maybe this time, someone could see me as Chan.”

“So you think you could do that with money?”

“Well…it worked, didn’t it?”

You laugh. “Not sure if this is how you really wanted it to work. But money talks.”

He takes another drag from his cigarette. “So what did you think of it?”

You raise your wrist. “Technically you gave me this watch.” Then you raise your other hand. “And this phone. And…I really needed them when I did. So thank you, it was a huge help.”

A small smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad to hear that I helped.” It was a simple expression but one you couldn’t read, especially in the dark.

“But I’m sure you hear that hundreds of times over as well, how you’ve helped people. Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Right now, I don’t think it does.”

“Why?”

“You ask that question a lot, huh?” Chan says with a side-eye.

You shrug. “There’s nothing else to ask.”

As you flick the ash off your cigarette, you notice how short yours is compared to his. It seems like he’s biding his time with the single stick…for a reason. You look at your watch, not much time has passed. You take his cue again and light another stick, deciding to take your time with it as well. If he notices, he doesn’t let on.

“Say it.”

This breaks Chan’s reverie. “Huh?”

“You want to say something. Isn’t that why you’re out here instead of in there? You usually have a hell of a time with your members. So why are you here?”

And just like that, you open a floodgate.

“I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired. I can’t see it anymore—the spark. I look at myself in the mirror and see emptiness. I look at myself dancing in the rehearsal room and give my whole, but when I finally stop and look at myself…I see nothing. I see no spark. I see a husk of someone else. I see Dino. I can’t find Chan anymore. I can’t find him.”

You’re frozen, the fire burning your cigarette, heavy with ash.

“When the lights are on and my face is made up, when I wear the outfits and the red lights of the cameras blink, I smile. I laugh. I become Dino, the Dino they want to see. They don’t see the bruises on my body, the blinding flashes when I close my eyes, the fatigue that weighs me down on my bed every night…the voices that fill my head with dark, dark thoughts. I'm done. I want it done. I want to stop. I want to just—”

“Chan.” He stops and looks at the hand on his shoulder. You know he can’t keep talking like this. It was good to let it out, but you can’t let him spiral.

You both don’t know what to do, but suddenly you find each other in an embrace—and no one breaks it. You hear him taking in deep, heaving breaths in a desperate effort to hold back his tears from a stranger.

Through this, you don’t let go, rubbing his back in an effort to comfort this person who—like any other—has a world on his shoulders that no one can truly understand.

Your mind flashes back to a similar scene, in the park near your best friend’s place, as both of you clutch each other desperately in an attempt to keep holding on to life, but it was you holding back the tears and taking in the deep, heaving breaths.

And sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone like this is to be there and hold them until they can grab a hold of their life again.

So that’s what you do for a good ten minutes, until you notice his breaths getting slower and more even, until he slowly breaks away and brings back the distance and the cool night air between your warmth.

He wipes away fallen and unshed tears from his face, smudging some eyeliner in the process. You reach up and wipe the stain, but he quickly holds on to your hand and keeps it on his cheek, leaning into the warmth it gives. He closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them, he looks straight into you. You offer him a smile.

“Can I see you again? Later? Tonight?”

‘What…?’ Your smile drops and you pull your hand away. “Chan, it doesn’t work that way.”

“It’s not like that. I know my ways. I can find a way.”

“No, I—” A soft notification ping comes from your pocket, signaling five minutes until the end of your break. Your phone screen lights up and flashes a photo of your best friend, who set it as your lock screen from the last time you met. Chan’s eyes glance at it.

“Oh. Okay.” A dejected sound…but one you don’t deny. Your mind whirlwinds with the happenings of the past half hour.

“Life doesn’t always work this way, Chan-ah.”

He starts at how you said his name with a sense of familiarity. “I know.”

“You have three brothers waiting for you inside. I’m sure they’ll understand you.”

“I know they will. But you just have to physically get yourself away from it all sometimes, so thank you. Thank you.” He says the last remark with a courteous bow. “I’ll see you later.” With finality, he heads back into the restaurant, hood still up, through the same door he exited out of a while ago.

You two didn’t have to say it, but you both knew what to do. He went in first, you followed a few minutes later after the second notification ping signaled the end of your break—going as far as adding a minute or two more just to give yourself some space to breathe as well.

“You’re late,” says the guy who took over for you during your break time.

You roll your eyes. “Two minutes, man. I’ll give you two minutes during your break too, okay?”

He laughs. “Not sure I saw it right, but was that Dino-ssi who entered this door? He was gone the whole time I was stationed at their room.”

“I wouldn’t know, I was too busy minding my own business and catching up on sleep.”

“Outside?”

“You think I have a choice? You’d do the same during your break anyway,” you say as you jokingly shove your co-worker aside and return to your post outside Seventeen’s room.

You see Chan—Dino—walking toward your direction. He looks freshened up. Your eyes meet and you both give polite smiles with slight bows. He slides open the door and is greeted by his hyungs.

“Dino-ya! Where have you been? Did you get enough air from outside or maybe you brought some with you back here?”

“Chan-ah.” You hear Jeonghan’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Dino answers with a smile in his voice. “Yes! Yes, I’m okay. I’m feeling better now. Better the air outside actually than the air in here, you guys didn’t even shower after the shoot.” And you hear his recognizable laugh fade out as he closes the door.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

a/n: originally posted this on my stan twt account, thought it would have a better home in a long format post on tumblr! it's also the first ever svt fic i rly wrote and i'm pretty proud of it too <3

if you want to be included in the taglist, shoot me a message or reply here!

[spacequokka]

Unzipped

Pairing: Yeosang x staff!reader Genre: PWP, teeny bit of fluff Rating: MA Summary: Yeosang's desperate to get off and you offer your throat. Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: language, oral (m. receiving), cum swallowing

Mixtape Track: Dream by wavycake f. def.

Yeosang had everyone fooled. Strangers would look at him and assume he was the shy, quiet type. His friends thought he was mouthy, annoying, and crafty. None of them would ever guess he was insatiable.

At first it bothered him. Randomly getting hard in the weirdest places or times made him think there was something wrong with him. He’d try his best to curb his lewd thoughts, try to match the image people had of him, but sooner or later he’d be sneaking off to take care of his dick. One release could hold him for a few hours, just long enough to scheme on the next place to touch himself.

This time he was planning on slipping into a supply closet near the parking lot. If anyone caught him coming out of it, he could just say he was looking for the bathroom and got turned around. Happens all the time and no one would think anything of it. The others were milling about as the stylist team helped them dress down to leave. He had a few minutes to disappear and rub one out before they got in the van.

He slipped out the door confident no one had noticed. Two lefts and a right and he stood before the door to his relief. As soon as it shut behind him and he was plunged into darkness, his fingers were working on his zipper and clasp, easing the pressure on his dick. Just as he was about to stick his hand in and fish the needy bastard out, the door opened.

“Yeosang, what are you—”

Light flooded the small space as you stood there, eyes wide with what he could only guess was horror and disgust fixed on his hand in his pants. So he panicked. His only thought was what would happen if someone saw you standing there. His body moved on autopilot and grabbed your wrist then yanked you into the closet with him, shutting the door behind you.

‘Well, now what, genius?!’

The awkward silence that followed was enough to make him consider running away, changing his name and going off to live on a llama farm somewhere with no internet.

“This isn’t the bathroom.” You whispered into the darkness.

His mind went blank for a second. “No, it’s not.”

More silence. “So, why are you in here? With your pants unzipped?”

He honestly had no idea how to answer that. “I was…” No, really. Head empty, no thoughts, just the insistent throbbing of his cock in his pants. “I just needed…”

And like the absolute angel you were, you put two and two together and saved him the embarrassment. “Oh, I see…” Your smartwatch lit up, briefly illuminating the concern in your expression. “We’re leaving in, like, ten minutes.”

Well, shit. He’d need more time than that to get his erection to go away. The idea of walking around like that was far from pleasant. Perhaps if you bought him some time—

“If you want, I can help you.” He could sense you moving, arms up doing something to your hair. “A quickie so they don’t notice.”

He nearly choked on his spit after sucking in air for a gasp. “How-how would you help me?”

He felt your hands on his hips as you got on your knees. “With my mouth. That’s the safest option we have right now.” You gave him a moment to reject the offer before pulling at his pants. He had to cover his mouth when he felt your hand close around his dick and guide it out. It felt amazing to have someone else touch him. Those first few strokes made his legs shake. When your warm, wet mouth closed around the tip he nearly fell over. It was both embarrassing and a relief to know he wouldn’t last long from your touch.

“Oh, fuck.” He bought a shaky hand to the top of your head as you licked at him, tonguing his weeping slit before going for it, sliding him along your tongue until he reached your throat. “Holy shit.” His other hand went to the wall for support as you started bobbing, holding his hips as you pulled off then stuffed him back in your mouth. It was like he was being shocked then wrapped in a fluffy blanket the way pleasure pulsed through his body. He bit his lip to keep silent but as you worked him deeper and deeper down your throat, swallowing around him over and over, he struggled to contain himself. By the time you had a steady rhythm going, he was on the verge of calling out your name between pants for air.

You pulled off just long enough to destroy his concentration. “Cum in my mouth. I’ll swallow it all for you.”

‘All for you…’ Fuck, he wished he could see your face. He wanted to remember this moment forever. His pretty coordi-noona on her knees, mouth stretched around his cock, swallowing every last drop of his cum. His body seized up as he came, pushing in as deep as you allowed and holding you there while his cock pulsed with each spurt of his cum. And you swallowed like you promised, he could feel your throat working around him. When you finally pulled away, he was spent, energy depleted as if he’d run a marathon.

“You okay?”

If he had the time, he’d return the favor immediately. Head that good deserves to be rewarded. “Yeah, much better now.” You politely tucked his soft dick away and helped zip his pants back up. He insisted on helping you to your feet and fix your hair. You laughed shyly at his closeness when you felt his fingers tracing your lips for any excess. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing his lips against yours and stealing a quick peck. “Thank you so much.”

“No worries.” You patted his cheek. “But we should go before Joong sends someone to find you. Wooyoung will never let you live it down.”

His shoulders drooped as he nodded. “You first. Text me when the coast is clear.”

“Gotcha.” You quickly disappeared out the door, giving him a quick glimpse of your hardened nipples. Though he did his best to not show it, he knew he’d be thinking of you whenever he got off from now on.

Unless he could talk you into some time alone later…

Network: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

[galaxy-stardust]

I would like one that Female reader is dating both of them and price and gaz start to compete with each other to be the better boyfriend. they would spoil her with gifts and other things! i want it like a 18+ plus so it can be reallyyyy dirty! if your comfortable with that

Alright @milliexoxo here's your story. Hope you'll like it

18+ / nsfw

Tactical Rivalry

Your birthday had barely passed when the first gift showed up.

A sleek, navy blue leather handbag, classy and refined. Inside was a small note: Saw this and thought of you. Hope you like it. – J.

You smiled, running your fingers over the smooth leather, already suspecting who it was from. Price had a habit of treating you like a queen - whiskey in a crystal glass, expensive dinners, his strong hands always lingering on your waist just a little longer than necessary.

But two days later, another package appeared. A high-end smartwatch, your favorite color. So you don’t miss my texts. – G.

Gaz. Of course.

Unlike Price, he wasn’t about subtlety. He was younger, cocky, and playful, but just as possessive in his own way.

And just like that, the competition had begun.

It started harmlessly.

Price would pull you onto his lap at the base’s rec room, his deep voice a low rumble against your ear as he murmured, Tell me, love - who’s been treating you best?

Gaz, never one to be outdone, would swoop in, dragging you into a long drive on his bike, his hands tight around your thighs as he revved the engine. You like it fast, don’t you, sweetheart?

It escalated quickly after that.

Price started cooking for you, hearty meals with rich flavors, making sure you were well-fed.

Gaz, on the other hand, brought you chocolates and your favorite snacks, sneaking them into your locker with teasing little notes: Eat this and think of me.

It was a game to them - until it wasn’t.

One night, after a long mission briefing, you found yourself in Price’s quarters, sipping whiskey as he massaged your shoulders, his strong hands making you melt into him.

“You’ve been letting Gaz spoil you too much, love,” he murmured against your neck. “Might have to remind you who takes care of you properly.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open. Gaz stood there, arms crossed, smirking.

“Stealing her away again, old man?”

His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it.

Price didn’t move. Instead, he pulled you closer, his fingers tracing over your collarbone. “She’s right where she belongs.”

Gaz stepped forward, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“Is that right, sweetheart?”

His fingers brushed against your thigh, pushing up the hem of your dress just enough to make your breath hitch. “Because I remember you moaning my name last night.”

Heat pooled between your legs as the tension crackled in the air.

Price’s grip tightened.

“She’s got enough of us to go around. Question is, how greedy are you feeling, love?”

Your lips parted, your body trapped between them, their touches burning through your skin.

And just like that, the competition turned into something much more dangerous.

Your heart pounded as you sat between them, their hands lingering, possessive and unrelenting.

Gaz's fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh, his touch light but deliberate, while Price’s large, calloused hand remained firm on your waist, holding you in place.

"So," Gaz murmured, voice low and teasing, "who's been treating you better, sweetheart?"

You swallowed hard, heat rushing through your body.

They were both watching you, waiting, daring you to choose.

But how could you?

Price let out a deep chuckle, his beard scratching against your ear as he leaned in.

"She can't pick, Kyle. That's the problem."

His lips brushed against your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

Gaz smirked.

"Guess we'll have to see who can make her come undone first."

Price exhaled sharply through his nose, amused but competitive.

"That a challenge?"

"Absolutely."

Before you could protest, Gaz’s lips crashed against yours, claiming you with a hunger that sent your mind spinning.

His hands slid up your sides, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

But the second he pulled back, Price was there, tilting your chin up and taking your mouth with his own, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world.

The contrast was dizzying - Gaz, wild and impatient; Price, firm and controlled.

Your breath hitched as Price trailed kisses down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper.

Gaz, not to be outdone, slipped his hands beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your stomach before moving higher.

"Fuck," Gaz muttered, voice rough with need. "She's shaking already."

Price smirked against your skin.

"Told you, son. She likes being handled right."

You were barely holding on as they pushed you back against the couch, their hands all over you, heat building between your legs.

Clothes were being tugged aside, mouths trailing lower, teasing, torturing - and then, Gaz’s lips were at your ear, breath hot as he whispered, "Let's see how many times we can make you beg tonight, yeah?"

Price growled in approval, his grip tightening. "Better clear your schedule, love. We’re just getting started."

Price was the first to pull your shirt over your head, his hands rough but deliberate as he tossed it aside.

"Been waiting too damn long to get my hands on you like this," he muttered, his eyes dark and hungry.

Gaz’s fingers were already working on the button of your jeans, his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. "Same, sweetheart. Had to watch you prance around base all damn day, knowing you were ours but not being able to touch you."

Ours.

The word sent a pulse of heat straight between your thighs.

You barely had time to process it before Price’s lips were on you again, dragging down your throat, between your breasts, taking his time, savoring you.

Gaz, impatient as always, had already gotten your jeans down and was pressing a hand between your thighs, groaning when he felt the heat of you through your panties.

"Fuck, baby, you're soaked." His fingers traced over the damp fabric, teasing, taunting. "All this for us?"

Price smirked against your skin, biting down just enough to make you whimper.

"Told you she liked being handled right."

Gaz huffed a laugh, but there was an edge of frustration in it.

"Guess we'll have to see who she likes best, yeah?"

Before you could even react, Gaz was dragging your panties down, his fingers immediately pressing against your slick folds. He groaned at how wet you were, his thumb finding your clit and circling it lazily.

Price, however, wasn’t about to let him win that easily. He nudged Gaz aside and pressed two thick fingers inside you, stretching you open with a slow, controlled precision that had you gasping.

"Shit - fuck," you stammered, body jerking as pleasure shot through you.

Gaz narrowed his eyes, grinning as he rubbed your clit harder, working in tandem with Price’s fingers.

"That’s cute, love. You think you can handle both of us?"

Your body arched between them, your mind going blank as they worked you over, their touches relentless.

"You'll take it," Price murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Because you're ours, yeah?"

Gaz leaned in, biting your lip before whispering against it, "Let's see who can make you come first, sweetheart."

Their hands moved faster, pushing you higher, building you up until you were right on the edge - until you shattered between them, a desperate cry leaving your lips as pleasure wracked through your body.

Price groaned, watching you fall apart. "Fucking beautiful," he muttered.

Gaz smirked, dragging his fingers up your slick folds before pressing them into your mouth. "Taste yourself, baby."

Your tongue flicked over his fingers, and the look in his eyes turned downright feral.

Price growled low in his throat, already pushing Gaz aside. "Enough playing. Now it's our turn."

Your body was still trembling from your first orgasm when Price pulled you onto his lap, his thick, calloused hands gripping your waist like he was staking his claim.

His cock pressed against your soaked entrance, still restrained by his jeans, but the heat of him sent another pulse of arousal straight through you.

Gaz, not one to be outdone, leaned against the couch beside you, eyes burning with hunger as he dragged a hand down his abs, unbuttoning his jeans just enough to show you the thick outline of his cock.

"Look at you," Gaz murmured, fingers trailing over your inner thigh. "Fucking wrecked already. And we haven't even started yet."

Price's grip tightened. "She can take it." His voice was deep, firm - like he already knew how far he was going to push you.

Your breath hitched as Price finally freed himself, his thick length pressing against your entrance. He rubbed the tip against your slick folds, teasing, dragging out the moment, making you whimper.

"Be a good girl, love," he murmured, voice like gravel. "Take me nice and slow."

Gaz chuckled darkly, his own hand palming himself through his boxers. "Or maybe she likes it rough."

You barely had time to register the challenge before Price thrust up, stretching you open inch by inch. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he filled you completely, the burn of the stretch sending a shudder through your body.

"Fuck," Price groaned, his hands gripping your hips. "Tight little thing, aren’t you?"

Gaz leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet she'd feel even better with both of us."

Your body clenched at the thought, and Price groaned at the feeling.

Gaz smirked. "Yeah? You like that idea, sweetheart?"

Your head was spinning, pleasure making it impossible to think straight.

Price set a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours, his grip unrelenting as he took you exactly how he wanted. Every thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, making you moan helplessly.

But Gaz wasn’t about to sit back and watch. His hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could press his lips against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as Price fucked you senseless.

"Greedy little thing," Gaz murmured against your lips, his free hand stroking himself. "Bet you’d take us both like a good girl, huh?"

Price groaned at the thought, his thrusts getting rougher. "She can barely handle me right now."

"Let's find out," Gaz growled, shifting lower.

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your other entrance, teasing, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

"Relax, sweetheart," Gaz murmured, his voice dripping with wicked intent. "We’ll make you feel so fucking good."

Your body was on fire, stretched, filled, completely overwhelmed - and you fucking loved it.

"Let's see how many times we can make you come before you break," Price growled, his thrusts relentless.

Gaz smirked against your skin. "Game on."

Your body was already trembling from the way Price was fucking you - deep, hard, controlled, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew you’d have bruises in the morning.

But the way Gaz was watching you, stroking himself with lazy, confident strokes, sent another wave of heat crashing through you.

“You gonna let us ruin you, sweetheart?” Gaz murmured, pressing a teasing kiss to your shoulder. “Let us fuck you so good you won’t even remember your own name?”

Price groaned, his grip tightening. “She’s already fucked stupid, mate. Look at her.”

And fuck, he was right. Your moans had turned into breathless, helpless cries, your body completely at their mercy.

Gaz smirked. “Not done yet, though.”

His fingers returned to your other entrance, rubbing slow, teasing circles, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“She’s never had it like this before,” Price muttered, his voice rough with possession. “Gotta take it slow.”

Gaz chuckled darkly. “You hear that, sweetheart? He thinks you can’t handle us both.”

His fingers pressed deeper, stretching you slightly, making you shudder. “You gonna prove him wrong?”

You nodded weakly, and Gaz groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Fuck, you’re a dream.”

Price’s thrusts grew rougher, his control slipping. “Then get her ready,” he growled. “Because I’m not stopping.”

Gaz worked you open slowly, patiently, fingers slick and careful as Price fucked you harder, pushing you toward another orgasm.

“Fuck -Gaz- ” you gasped, body shaking.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, soothing you with kisses. “Almost ready for me, yeah?”

Price growled low in his throat. “Hurry the fuck up.”

Gaz grinned. “Jealous?”

Price didn’t answer. He just snapped his hips harder, making you cry out.

Gaz finally lined himself up, his tip pressing against your tightest entrance.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

The stretch was overwhelming, the sensation mind-blowing as Gaz slowly pushed forward, filling you inch by inch. You clenched around them both, and they groaned in unison, their bodies trembling with restraint.

“Holy fuck,” Gaz muttered.

Price let out a low, guttural moan. “So fucking tight.”

You were completely, utterly filled, every nerve in your body on fire.

They didn’t move at first, letting you adjust, but the second you whimpered, Price’s patience snapped. He thrust into you hard, making Gaz groan as he was pushed deeper.

And just like that, they found a rhythm - deep, slow, relentless. Every thrust sent pleasure crashing through you, their combined heat, their combined strength too much, too perfect.

Price growled into your ear. “Ours.”

Gaz bit down on your shoulder. “Forever.”

You shattered between them, body convulsing, crying out their names as wave after wave of pleasure hit you.

And when they followed - Gaz cursing, Price groaning, their bodies locking up as they filled you - there was nothing left of you but pure, blissful ruin.

You belonged to them.

And they fucking knew it.

[liesmyth]

I want to start running...any tips?

I WAS BORN TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION. Thank you so much for asking! Unfortunately, I am a nerd about my hobbies so this got quite long.

Keep it simple ✨

Running is easy to get into; our bodies are built for it. Don’t stress over technicalities and just do what feels natural to you. My local races are full of 70-something white-haired pensioners who are kicking ass at it. Don’t let anyone tell you that running is meant to feel like dying, that’ll harm your knees, or that you absolutely need to have that specific smartwatch model to get into it. All you need is a solid pair of shoes, everything else is optional.

Medium effort is the way to go

The ideal aerobic running pace is a speed at which you’re able to hold a conversation, even if a bit winded. NO faster. If you’re able to sing along to your playlist or chat with a friend, that’s your ideal running pace. If you’re gasping or wheezing, slow down! You’ll get a bit faster as your lung capacity gets better, but that shouldn’t be a priority unless you want to train for a race. You get most of the health benefits of running just by keeping up a steady, sustainable, conversational pace.

Walking breaks are fine, actually

That’s the reason why I don’t love C25K as a beginner program — the way it’s structured sort of implies that walking breaks are something you should grow out of to become a more experienced runner. If you need to walk for a bit, go ahead.

If possible, jogging is preferable, just because the mechanics of even a glacial-pace jog are more similar to running than those of a faster power walk, so you might try switching to a jog after a bit of a walking interval. But walking is not a failure; there are serious marathon training plans out there that use walk/run intervals as a viable strategy.

(Related: picking up speed helps you keep going! If you feel like you are completely drained, try speeding up for a very short interval, then slowing back down. It’ll often give you an energy boost to keep going)

Run for time, not distance ⌚

Especially for beginners, I find that getting fixated on numbers can be counter productive, and the most important thing is to listen to your body. If you’re aiming to hit a certain mileage, you might get the urge to speed up at the end to get done faster. Instead, set yourself time-based goals and end every run with a cool down jog or walk.

SHOES!! 👟

Good running shoes are essential, and pretty much the only fitness-related purchase on which I’ll always support dropping money. If you get to the point where you’re consistently running 10 km (6 miles) each week, you’ll want to go to a running store — the kind of place where you’ll get fitted, and they’ll have you try on models and jog on a treadmill to evaluate your gait and let you know which characteristics your ideal shoe needs. I can’t stress enough how useful running store staff can be. They’re all running club nerds who LOVE getting new people into running, and they really want to help you find your ideal fit. Also get good running socks while you’re at it.

Be prepared to drop at least 100€ (or equivalent currency) but they usually have a great return policy if the model isn’t a good fit for you. Take care of your running shoes — maintenance, wearing them only for running, gentle cleansing etc — and the cushioning will last for quite a while (600km / 370miles at least). If you decide that you hate running, they’re still great for walking around. Once you find your ideal shoe model, it gets a lot easier to shop for it during end-of-season sales, or looking for online bargains etc. I love stocking on end-of-series shoes and rotating them so they’ll last even longer, and I buy online quite often! Just make sure your FIRST pair is fitted, for ideal injury prevention and joint health.

Injury prevention 💪

I’d love to still be running 10k races when I’m 70, but it takes some care to get there. When you run, you’re slamming your body weight up and down with every stride, and that might be hard on your joints if you’re not used to it. If you’re completely new to running, cap your runs at 15/20 minutes every other day. Do that even if you feel like you could keep going! If you have a good aerobic base already, you need to give your joints time to catch up with you lung capacity, and give your body time to recover. Do bodyweight exercises like lunges and planks and glute bridges to strengthen your core, legs, and hips. Dynamic stretches are great for warmups, and static stretches are better for cooling down. If you have the option, running on softer surface like grass or dirt is better than asphalt, which is better than concrete and pavements.

(If nothing of what I’ve said here makes sense to you, shoot me another ask, or look at some of the resources I’ve linked down below!)

Don't get bored! 🎶

I love running in groups. Running clubs are great. You can learn so much in a hands-on way from seriously experienced people, you can chat about gossip over a running job, and you can make some interesting friends. If you don’t have access to a running community, then personally I love just chilling on a run by myself listening to an audiobook or podcast or exploring a certain area.

Running form❓

Don’t stress about it. Just go out and move your body. Attempting to modify your ‘running form’ too quickly can do more harm than good. There ARE a few things you could pay attention to — I recommend trying to focus on one of these at a time for a minute or so, and alternate between them. After a while, it’ll start to feel natural to keep track of all of them:

1. Don’t slouch! But a slight lean forward is great.

2. Keep your shoulders pulled down and your upper back tense.

3. Swinging your arms in a way that helps with your stride is good, but I shouldn’t feel forced.

4. Even breaths, inhaling through your mouth and expiring through your nose.

5. Take turns to check with every part of your body, and relax them in turn: are your jaw and neck too tense? Are your fists tight?

6. Don’t overstride! shorter strides with quicker leg turnover are better than huge strides that feel awkward to you.

7. Use your glutes to drive up the motion of your legs, not just your quads. This can take a while to get used to, but it’s a game-changer.

8. ENGAGE YOUR CORE. This is a great skill to develop whether you work out or are just existing in the world — basically, let your inner abdominal muscles help you carry your weight forward. This is VERY intuitive once you know how to do it, but it’s hard to get a grasp of it if you don’t know what it means, so here are some resources about it.

an extremely fucking comprehensive article that improved my life and eased my big-boobs back pain

similar content but in video form

a running-specific form video

Personally, learning to do this made me feel like I unlocked a superpower. Go forth and brace.

Accessories and tips 🤓

Like I said above, the only thing I really suggest spending money on for real is running shoes. Everything else is details! However, I’m nothing if not wordy I have Thoughts about those details, too.

Run tracking: I suggest downloading Runkeeper if you want to keep track of your runs — it’s free, intuitive, and solid! If you decide to get into wearables, a low-level Garmin >>>>> anything else.

Self-care: use sunscreen and/or thick face cream as needed. Stop to sip at a public fountain if needed. Get a small fanny pack to hold your phone, keys, or lip balm if needed. If chafing is an issue, anti-glide gel is relatively affordable.

Outfits etc: I get all my running gear and clothes from Decathlon — they are in most countries and ship worldwide. I especially love this thermal shirt for colder weather

Safety: if you’re running on the road, make sure to run in the opposite direction from traffic and to wear something bright. If you run with headphones near traffic, keep the volume down, or get over-the-ear conductor headsets. I love shokz, they're fantastic.

Post-run snack: eating something small and carb-heavy within 30 mins of a workout is great for kickstarting recovery. I love dried fruit personally.

Various resources 📝

Routine basics: check out the r/running order of operations, which is a great “how to” guide to building a basic running routine. I also recommend that subreddit's wiki! Running programming gets exponentially more involved the more advanced you get, etc — if you ever have any questions, hit me up!

Dynamic stretching warmup: a quick leg swing workout to get your legs ready to go. If you’re feeling overachieving, here’s a lunge warmup routine and a how-to bodyweight squat video.

Cooldown routine! Check out Strength and Mobility, a great post-run quick cooldown routine that includes some bodyweight exercises to strengthen your hips and core. Video included.

that's all, folks! 🏃‍♀️

Sorry I got carried away! I love running. I love getting people into running. My mental health, cardiovascular system and my popping quads also love running. But FYI, some people hate running and that's also fine! If you decide it’s not for you, find something you like more. There are a lot of misconceptions out there and a lot of guilt-tripping and body shame-y rhetoric around exercising, especially aimed at women, and I want to make clear it’s all bullshit. Just have fun <3

[transastronautistic]

I can't handle how cute this is. i want a slime pet too

Link to the Tweets. And here's a link to the study. ID in alt text and below the readmore.

Image 1:

tweet by e. @MelytraMithra reading "oh my goddddd

researchers built a smartwatch heart beat monitor that uses a slime mold for its operation. the slime mold has to be fed and cared for, so the users in the trial… developed an emotional attachment to it [two sobbing emojis]"

The Tweet includes a screenshot from the paper, described in next image.

Image 2:

The tweet's screenshot, which reads:

Developing a connection.

All participants expressed various feelings of connection with our device. P1, P2, P4, and P5 all described it as a little friend and/or pet. P2 expressed, “it’s always good to be accompanied by some living creature, I really like different, animals or plants. (. . .) carrying this little friend also made me feel happy and peaceful”. P4 noted that she would be reminded by the slime mold’s presence by its smell, even stating that it felt endearing, “my cat’s kind of have a smell, dogs have a smell, the physarum, I recognize the smell and it smells kind of, organic, it’s kind of yeasty but not like decaying, it smells alive”. In recalling an experience where she had to take a long drive, P4 explained, “oh, I gotta bring my little pet mold friend, during the drive, I was also thinking about how I used to be really into Tamagotchis (. . .) with the physarum, (. . .) it has this smell to it which your Tamagotchis don’t have, it has a sense of physicality, (. . .) they’re definitely different”. P1 stated that their personal care routine ended up linked to the device’s care routine “I think every time I fed myself is when I would remember to at least check it, I think that was actually quite linked”. While she was sick, P5’s partner helped take care of her as well as helped to take care of her device. P5 recounts, “I was taking care of the slime and feeding it oats and stuff, my partner was also feeding me oatmeal because I was sick and so she was like you’re my little slime and I was like yeah, I am (. . .) then she started calling me her slime because I mean me and the slime, like, we were eating the same stuff, (. . .) we were both being fed and watered”. P2 & P4 also stated that the visual appearance of their device affected their mood. P2 explained that growth made them feel refreshed. P4 associated the bright yellow of the physarum with happy feelings, noting this affective quality several times in her diary entries and in her interview.

Image 3: A reply tweet from the original tweeter reading "well nourished. in my lane. lively. growing." There's a photoset from the study described as "a slime mold oscillating between living and dormant stages." There are four images of the slime mold, which is a yellow color. The first shows it "dried / dormant / not growing." Second shows it "water added / resuscitated / growing." Third shows the slime "well nourished / lively / growing." The fourth shows it once again "dried / dormant / not growing."

[cocomanga]

The Sweetest Beat - Set 1

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU. Daddy Kink, Noncon, Dubcon, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, NPD Abuse/Trauma

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art Please respect my blog art.

Reader is encouraged to listen to music mentioned for context :)

WC : 5K

The Sweetest Beat - Set 2 >>

TSB - Masterlist ~ AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro is the leader of a fresh new rock band. They're currently playing covers and gaining a following at an alarming rate, skyrocketing his career as an indie artist. But when his best friend introduces him to a beautiful someone and sparks fly, he's challenged to navigate her fear of loving freely.

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶ SET 1 No One Knows - Queens of the Stone Age Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana Everlong - The Foo Fighters All My Life - Foo Fighters Smells Like Teen Spirit. - Nirvana

As you put the drink to your lips, the sensation of tiny bursting bubbles tickled your nose and the sharp aroma of fresh orange set a spark to your senses. The wildly refreshing contrast to the smell of cigarettes, old wood and alcohol spills seemed to rejuvenate you.

"Can I get another Blue Moon, please, Dori?"

"No problem." Itadori replied kindly as he leaned over the counter, turning back to Nobara, a flirtatious grin sprawled across his face despite her teasing him about his cocktail blending.

"Too much vermouth, man. What are you, an amateur?" she whined, a mock pout on her face as she rolled her eyes.

You glanced at them as you sat on the stool with your legs crossed and your back to the bar, shaking your head, smiling and snickering at their cute interaction.

It was pretty dark in the room, the colorful spotlights were off. A faint light shone over the bar, and one over the stage. You could see the glowing red neon exit signs, the track lighting lining the hall leading to the restrooms, and dark figures wandering about, chatting and waiting anxiously for what's next.

You loved going there. The place was quite well known, but relatively small. An intimate setting. Very "underground". The platform of the stage was set up about 4 feet high. When it was illuminated, you could see every detail of a performance from the bar seats. The room was normally peppered with small round tables that held 4-5 seats each, accommodating about 100 seated, but tonight it was standing room only and could easily fit over 3.

Most of the employees here knew you and Nobara as regulars. Itadori invited the two of you to see this performance by his best friend, who had apparently formed this band recently and it was gaining quite the following. Also probably because he wanted another excuse to see Nobara.

They were a cover band and, according to rave reviews, a pretty damn good one at that. A lot of the people who were already here, knew them from the city they hailed from.

You glanced at your smartwatch, the light piercing through the dark room, shining a bright blue glow on your face. You hoped they'd come on soon since you were already nearing your 3rd beer. "What time are they scheduled for, Dori?"

"8 o'clock."

7 minutes. Good.

"You in a hurry??" Nobara's head turned quickly towards you as she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Its not like you have to work in the morning."

"I know." you shrugged, "I'm just a little excited. I've heard good things.

"Yeah, like about how hot they are!" Nobara replied, this time quickly raising both eyebrows.

"Hey, calm down little one. You're already spoken for" Itadori snapped back at Nobara, with a grin on his face and a wrinkle between his brows.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you turned back to look at the stage. "Its been too long since I've heard some live music. I feel like I'm..." you frowned a little, "... neglecting my self-care routine or something."

Nobara takes the last sip of her obviously delicious martini. "Well if they're right about these guys, you'll definitely get what you need tonight."

As the curtain shrouding backstage parts, one of the members emerges. He sauntered across, twirling drumsticks in his hand. A few of the audience members begin to clap, whistling and wailing noises of approval. He appeared to have stood at about 5'11", with a slim, but athletic build, and a seemingly relaxed demeanor. 

He wore all black converse with white soles, and dark green loose fitting cargo pants that hung just a touch low, held up by a black leather belt with large black metal loop holes. His black graphic tee had an intricate design printed on the front, and was layered under a vintage leather jacket which he slipped off on his way to his seat. The tee accentuated his build, fitting loosely at the waist, yet snugly around his biceps and chest which were considerably toned, a must for a good drummer.

He wore a pretty stoic look on his face but he was, in fact, gorgeous. He had spiky, stark black hair, a few strands hanging low over his large dark eyes. He bit the bottom of his pouty lips, frowning as he sat on his stool adjusting his seat and microphones. If anything, he definitely looked "the part".

"Is that the one, Itadori?" Nobara inquired, nodding toward the stage.

Itadori looked up from the sink of soapy water behind the bar as he washed miscellaneous used glasses he'd gathered. "Yeah, that's him."

Both you and Nobara swiveled your stools back around to face the bar were Itadori stood as he explained.

"He's been playing since he was a kid. I used to hang out in his garage with him for hours while he and his cousin practiced." He broke from his chore for a moment, wiping his hands with a steaming cloth. "He even attended a prestigious art institute for a couple years."

"Really?" You inquired, considering how that must have contributed to the appearance of their success.

"Yeah" Itadori continued, "He and a couple of the members met at college".

Nobara nodded in approval, then leaned in toward you "Seems promising eh?" She chuckled into her martini, "He's definitely a hottie."

You nodded also as you returned a muffled laugh, taking the final sips of your 2nd beer. "Cute is fine and all, but they'd better be good".

"We do alright." A random voice chimes in, seemingly from out of nowhere. Startled, you turn to see the drummer standing right next to you. He leaned on his elbows against the bar propping a leg up on the frame as he stared directly at you. He turned to Itadori. "Lemme get two, Dori. I won't be able to come back down for a while." His voice was slightly monotone, deep and airy. He smelled like a light blend of soap and incense.

Suddenly a little nervous, you blushed slightly into your new beer as he turned toward you again, looking you up and down. You swiveled the other direction back to Nobara's wide-eyed stare as she attempted to suppress a huge smile.

Itadori hands him three bottles of Guinness. "Megz, this is Y/N and Nobara. They came to see you perform so yea, make it happen, bro." They give each other a quick dap.

Nobara peeks around you to see him, waving her hand.

As he pushes himself off the bar and grabs his offer from his friend, "Megz" turns toward you, his large, dark, slightly hooded eyes scan your silhouette quickly then lock with yours. He curls his long fingers on his left hand around the necks of two bottles of beer, then grabs the last with his right. He didn't seem to make a single readable expression, but gives you a quick upward nod and heads back up to the stage while the guitarist and other band members were tuning.

"Damn, girl" Nobara teases, seeing "Megz" give you a once-over. "What do you think that was about"?

You took a deep breath and shook your head as you turned back toward the stage. It looked like they were starting. You leaned your head over your shoulder at Itadori, yet kept your eyes locked up front, "I've never heard a guy called 'Meg'. That's different."

"Its Megumi. Really, only his family and friends call him Megz". Itadori explained.

"Oh." you replied, fixated.

Nobara and Itadori both look at you, then at each other, chuckling at the fact that Megumi seems to have left a lasting first impression on you.

With an unintentional critical eye, you observed the details of their setup. The band was 5 pieces with Megumi as the drummer. It included a bass, keys, lead guitarist and the vocalist, who also played guitar. "Wow. They have a female guitarist"?

"That's Maki." Itadori explained. "She's fuckin' crazy. Just wait, you'll see".

You watched their preparations. Maki tuned her guitar as she leaned in, conversing periodically with Megumi. The guy on keys kept his head down as he fidgeted with various knobs and buttons, which included a computer. The bassist's expression seemed a little detached, but he was very much in tune as he watched Maki and Megumi's conversation, and listened intently to Maki's instruction.

The lead singer wielded a gorgeous white guitar, currently strapped to his back. His presence almost as impressionable as Megumi's as he adjusted his microphone and his foot pedal. He wore black combat style laced boots and baggy camel-colored pants with the narrow hem stuffed inside his boots. His top was an exaggerated V-neck, sleeveless, black, and hung loose on his muscular build. His hairstyle was wild. Gathered in two sections on top of his head, and as spiky and dark as Megumi's. He also had a couple visible tattoos, one, a straight line across his face, one on his chest peeking from under his V-neck, and one on the outside of his chiseled bicep in a singular Japanese Kanji that read, "Blood".

It was exciting. They looked like the real deal, had plenty going on, and from here it appeared quite complex.

Suddenly the colorful spotlights illuminated the stage. At this point, quite a few more people had filed in, and the place was about half full. The crowd stirred up a mild roar of claps and whistles as they heard the first notes begin to fill the room.

You turned to Nobara, a wide grin spread across your face as you held your fists to your chest, shaking in excitement like a teenaged schoolgirl. She smiled back widely.

"They're looking really good up there" you said to Itadori, who was also checking them out.

"Mmm-hmm pay attention." Itadori smirked as he nodded toward the stage while sliding another drink toward you.

"By the way, you're looking pretty damn good yourself, honey" Nobara encouraged you with a wink, nodding toward your gorgeous legs stretching out from under your black pleated skirt, your feet dressed with calf-high black boots which had a silver buckle on the ankle and a sleek platform heel. 

Your top was a thin, black, loose fitted low-cut V-neck tee. you wore a deep red cage bralette underneath, the color peeked through the thin fabric of your tee. It had many visible straps, one which attached up to your choker, where your neck was also adorned with a gold necklace. 

"Very hot." she droned. 

You flashed her a warm smile "Thanks love. You, too".

The lead introduced the band, his voice crisp and clear, carrying beautifully across the room. The audience responded, and after a few clicks of Megumi's sticks, they started the first song:

Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows.

Your jaw dropped as your eyes widened in fascination... your head whipped back towards Itadori, "Damn, he's takin' on Dave Grohl?!?!"

He smiled, as he faced the stage, looking at you out the corner of his eye with an I-told-you-so.

You watched intently as they finished the first and second verses. You sat in your stool bobbing your head to the beat, which they executed in beautifully patterned staccato, all members in perfect sync. The sound was remarkable and the vocals were spot on. You had lots of Dave Grohl in your meticulously curated music collection, and this track was among them. As you moved to the rhythm, a rush of adrenaline flooded you. You gripped the ledge of the bar, knowing the chorus was damn near impossible to pull off. After all, you've seen many bands try and fail miserably.

You stared at Megumi's kit as the lead sang the chorus.

He pounded out the first drum line so smoothly it gave you goosebumps. The next was just as good. The third, even more complex, was so beautifully executed that your eyes widened and you literally gasped. Your mouth hung open as he finished the last. You loosened your vice grip in the edge of the bar, turning to Nobara and Itadori with your brow furrowed, in complete shock.

Itadori mouthed the word, "DOPE!" through an enormous satisfied grin.

Nobara smiled with raised brows, raising her hands in the air and screaming, "Yeeeeah!"

Realizing your mouth was now gaped open, you covered it with your hand as you turned back toward the stage.

It was only the first song and they were already blowing everyone away. A smart move too, considering this was their first performance since coming back home. Best to grab your attention immediately so people hang around, or get drawn in. It also featured both Megumi and Maki quite a bit through the chorus.

Some of the notation for drums on this track were lightning fast and complex. This song in particular had patterns that an average drummer wouldn't dare touch unless he could actually execute. Megumi was fucking amazing. You were fascinated by his sheer precision, mesmerized by his passion. As you watched him allow himself to become immersed in the music, his nonchalant demeanor and seemingly indifferent attitude all but melted away when he was at the kit.

His emotional connection to the music was contagious. You sat at your stool, at times closing your eyes and swaying back and forth, while at other times, giggling openly while kicking your feet out in a flutter like a little girl who was just given her favorite flavor of ice cream. His performance was exhilarating. Their next song:

Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana.

Your gaze was attached to him. He dripped appeal, quite literally as you saw him work up a complete sweat as he played. Most of the time during the loud, rougher choruses, his eyes were closed. His head shook his hair around violently as he drowned in his role. He'd make pained faces, often times biting his lip, and at others parting them to grant his lungs more oxygen considering how hard he worked.

His strong calloused hands firmly gripped his sticks, as he continuously pounded away at the drums and hats. Any time the sounds lightened and the melodies became softer, he'd raise his head up as his body moved on beat, swaying as beads of sweat slid at random intervals down his face and neck, the light catching through them as they flailed outward in droplets all around him. His once spiked out hair style had now completely fallen into wet slicks.

You couldn't take your eyes off him.

He was unbelievably fucking sexy.

They played a few more songs, and at this point in the show you sat, frozen, like a stone, gazing as you leaned back against the bar, with your elbows propped up. You periodically pressed your thighs together unconsciously as his performance aroused and hypnotized you. On top of it all, your buzz was much heavier now, the effects of the 4 beers you finished had kicked in nicely and allowed you to enjoy the music and the view all the more.

Suddenly a hand, a couple inches from your face waved frantically in front of you, vying for your attention. It was Nobara.

You snapped out of the daze you were apparently in with a deep breath, turning to her and Itadori only to see them both giggling. "Girl I've been calling you for the past two minutes! … everything ok?"

As Itadori laughed, he dropped his head between his muscular arms as they propped him up at the bar.

"Uh... yea," you said, rolling your eyes at their silly teasing. "Guys 'c'mon! this is amazing!" you motioned toward the stage.

Nobara smirked at you. "Yeah... HE is!" she said, still giggling.

"Whatever." you childishly retorted as you waived them both off with your hand. You turned back to face the stage, and you could swear you saw Megumi looking directly at you.

As the show went on, he continued to wow everyone with songs that featured some of Dave's best performances, mainly because they were well known. They'd sprinkle other songs throughout by artists like Radiohead and Korn, which gave the guy on keys time in the spotlight since he was also responsible for the electronica aspects. It also gave Megumi a break since he was obviously working himself crazy.

The last song they ended the first set with:

Everlong - The Foo Fighters.

Seriously... Megumi was fucking insane to be able to play that so well.

The crowd erupted with rumbling applause. And rightfully so since they were absolutely astonishing.

Itadori grabbed some ice cold bottles of water from the fridge, lining them up on the bar. He raised a couple bottles up, waving them in the air, along with a towel getting Megumi's attention.

You looked up at the stage, realizing he could actually see clear back there to the bar. Made sense though, considering the bartenders needed a reasonable amount of light to see as well. The people seated there were fully visible from the stage.

As distracted as you were, you didn't really consider that. And somehow you were a little embarrassed by that revelation.

"Hey, give this to him will ya?" Itadori tossed a couple towels over to you, sliding 6 of the waters your direction as well.

"Huh? Wait wha-" … before you could protest, he'd disappeared over to make drinks for another customer. You turned to see Megumi sauntering over to the bar, pulling his pants up by his belt as he took a few steps. Every soul, mainly women, from the stairs of the stage to the bar seemed to eyeball him on his way over. A couple people attempted to stop him, but he politely spoke and kept moving.

You became increasingly uneasy the closer he got, nervously looking around to seek assistance of some sort from Nobara.

She laughed playfully and turned her back on you, leaving you alone to take care of business as the water girl.

"Really?" You protested, holding your hands out in front of you.

"Those for us"? His voice rising up again, quite close to you.

You paused for a split second, burying your lips inside your mouth as you attempted to mute your smile, slowly turning to look at him.

He was dripping sweat. His hair was matted in sleek strands down his face in all directions. His chest slowly rising and falling behind his now drenched black tee, which stuck to his biceps and pecs, hugging every curve. As he continued to catch his breath, biting his pouty bottom lip, he waited patiently for you to answer. His dark, hooded eyes locked on to yours.

You quickly averted your eyes down to your hands as you grabbed the towels, squeezing them first in an attempt to ground yourself. "Uh... yes..." you handed one over.

He grabbed it, his hand making contact with yours. "Thanks."

He took a couple seconds longer than necessary to take it from you as he watched you squirm slightly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. He whipped it around his neck, then opened a bottle of water, guzzling it at the bar where he stood, his gaze still fixed. He took his final gulp, then uttered with a perfectly straight poker face, "You like what you see"?

You frowned slightly then smirked, looking up at him, "Excuse me"?

He nodded toward the stage, then looked back at you, leaning against the bar as he turned his body your direction. Still no expression. Only piercing eyes.

You nodded, and raised your eyebrows, "Yes. Actually..." you managed to mutter, trying really, really hard not to stare.

"Oh yeah? What do you like?" His fragrance was even stronger now that he had sweat so much. It wafted toward you, blending in with the warmth of his breath, tickling your shoulder and neck. It was like a fucking pheromone. He took another large drink of his water, his eyes never leaving your face.

You took a deep breath to help clear your head, finally allowing your genuine interest to speak up. "I love that you play Grohl so well. You like his work, it seems".

His brow wrinkled a bit, appearing intrigued that you knew something about drumming. Finally, a readable expression. "Been following him since I was a kid. Might as well learn from the best, right? … I tend to prefer the older, more groundbreaking stuff."

"Hmm..." you cracked a smile. "Oh I definitely agree. I'm the same with my vocals."

"Oh, you sing?" another expression of surprise from Megumi.

"Yeah... for a long time. I love it. I write as well, but it's taken a back seat to other work at the moment..." you shrugged, a flash of disappointment washes over your face as you turn to look toward the stage.

He continued to observe you for a what seemed a prolonged period, still leaning against the bar before turning to look for Itadori. He waved him down, flashing a "peace" sign at him with his fingers. He looked back down at you, "take a shot with me".

"A shot?" you repeated, kinda surprised by the offer. "of what?"

"It's called a car bomb. You ok with Guinness?" the beer he had earlier.

"Sure." you shrugged and smiled, "Why not."

Nobara joins Itadori as he brings 4 of them over. You all grabbed your glasses. "To a fantastic night!" Itadori proclaimed.

You all drop the shots into the glasses.

Nobara wails "And after partaaaaay whoooo!!!"

You all slam your drinks. Megumi and Itadori finished their shots like pros. You and Nobara took a little longer.

As you guzzled it, the foam from the beer creeped out of the glass, drizzling down the side of your mouth as you made a valiant attempt to finish it off.

Megumi's eyes grew wide as he watched the liquid slide down your jaw, and creep down your neck, your throat moving up and down behind your choker with each gulp. As you reached the end, it became sweeter, almost pleasant as the Bailey's seemed to smooth out the rough bitterness of the beer.

You pulled the glass from your mouth, gasping for air as you muttered, "Damn that's strong!" through parted wet lips. "After party?" You said, frowning and licking the remnants of foam from your mouth.

"Yeah. Come." Megumi said as he grabbed your glass, stacking it on top of his then sliding it over to Itadori who was flashing a goofy smile at him.

"Maybe I will"... you wiped yourself up with a napkin from the bar as you turned back around toward the stage, propping your elbows up behind you, observing the band.

Megumi watched you carefully, noticing your tendency toward scrutiny. "Good."

You squinted tilting your head as you considered how good the music was. "This band is pretty damned exceptional." You turned back to meet his inquisitive stare, curious. "How did you manage to gather a group of that caliber? Where did you find them?"

The corner of his lip curled upward as he explained, "Choso, the singer, has been friends with Itadori and me for about 2 years now. Maki is actually my cousin. Yuta on the bass, and Toge on the keys went to college with me at the institute. Their work was … insane, so I recruited them."

"Wow" … "How long have you been together? I mean... the whole band?" you inquired further.

"About 4 years total since I started with Toge and Yuta. When I left the school I asked Maki to join, and Choso approached us 2 years ago. That's how we met."

You turned to him, shaking your head as you leaned back on the bar. "This is quite the accomplishment, Megumi. I hope you're proud of yourself. You're fantastic. Truly."

With genuine gratitude he replied, "Well, aren't you sweet. I appreciate that".

He picked up his water and took another sip as he glanced down at your boots. As the water bottle came down from his face, you watched him intently as his eyes traveled up your legs. You crossed them, for his sake of course, allowing your skirt to hike up your thigh just a touch. His slow scan continued steadily upward, pausing briefly at your chest, where your gold necklace cascaded gracefully between your breasts along with some strands of your hair. His eyes then traced your neckline up to your lips where he paused again, biting his bottom lip as he looked up into your eyes.

… Damn …

You sat perfectly still, watching him undress you with his eyes. A gaze so seductive, it was rendered tangible, and extremely erotic.

Entertained, a tiny smirk played at your lips as you considered his audacity. Nevertheless, it felt so fucking good, you allowed yourself to get quite lost in that moment.

Yeah. He's trouble.

"Megz!" Maki yells from the stage. "The water?"

"Aargh shit." He grabs all 6 from the bar in his arms, then flinches from the cold.

"Here." You grabbed another towel and laid it on the counter, placing the water bottles on top, rolling them up. "Have a great set. I'm excited to hear the second half". You flash him a sweet smile.

"Thanks. See you later." a small smile creeps into a curl at the corner of his mouth as he turns to make his way back toward the stage.

You watch him closely as he gets settled back in.

He sits at his kit, and looks immediately back over to the bar, locking eyes with you instantly.

"Wow... I really thought the stage lighting would make it tougher for him to see us from there." you look over to Nobara as she's walking back over to you.

"Nope... hehehe. Probably caught you gawking at him earlier, too." She teased.

"Girl bye." you whined, rolling your eyes.

Though she does have a point. You can practically feel your cheeks painting themselves red at the thought.

"I think we should go closer for the second half. I'm ready to dance!" She flashed a giddy smile.

You agreed, "Good idea, yeah. lets go."

You both grab a beer on the way, yours was a Guinness.

You squeeze through the crowd that had obviously gotten much thicker, possibly from people who could only make it to the second half, and some who wandered in off the street, lured by the amazing sound.

You made it to the front, slightly to the right of center stage. Megumi's line of sight was clear from there. He was guzzling another bottle of water.

They started the second set with another banger:

All My life - Foo Fighters.

Maki took the intro with the low vibrating heavy rock guitar riffs. Choso's voice was like butter, blending in smoothly with Maki as he stood at one with the microphone, gripping it firmly in place.

Your eyes moved to Megumi, since he was next. His eyes were closed as he listened to Maki and Choso complete the intro. As they opened slowly, aimed toward the bar, they glided across the room, then over to where you and Nobara stood. His gaze locked on to yours and the cutest smirk of pleasure spread across his face, complete with slightly pink cheeks.

So satisfying, you couldn't help but smile. It was adorable.

His eyes close again as he waits a portion of a measure for his entrance. He smashes his drums as he and Yuta hit their notes. Megumi hit his quick riffs with precision like a goddamn rock star every single time. Never missing a beat. It was insane. How can he be so good at such complicated work?

The crowd went wild. They loved every second if it, and this time you and Nobara worked up a great sweat dancing.

In the middle of the song, there was another solo with Maki then Choso ... a quiet bar... you stood there, keeping time with Megumi, he was starting to sweat already.

You stood there watching him. Your gazes met, as you bobbed your heads lightly on the same beat. A smirk formed on your lips as he played. Watching him was stimulating.

He'd slowly close his eyes, as he drummed, allowing himself to ride the vibrations of the moment as his face tilted up toward the rafters. He looked so satisfied, so euphoric. He'd then lower his face back down toward the kit, as beads of sweat to fell from his hair and nose, opening his eyes back up to exactly where you stood. It was so hot. Damn near orgasmic.

You and Nobara, on the verge of wasted, feeling your drinks and that crazy shot Itadori fed you, danced around next to the stage like a couple of crazed fans. They played through their set smoothly, the crowd completely submerged in the intensity of the atmosphere. Finally, it was time for the last song.

It was Maki again for 3 measures:

Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana.

Of course they'd play this. Megumi beat the shit out of it, and Maki was on fire during her guitar solo. Throughout the course of the song, Megumi continued to look to you, smiling and smirking periodically. He seemed to enjoy seeing you dance, and you were more than happy to oblige. During the quiet verses, you bit your bottom lip, locking into sultry stares with him as he played, the song igniting a fire in which the flames were surely fanned by the alcohol.

With his head bowed as he pounded away, his body moving at a consistent, steady tempo, he'd look at you out the corner of his eye in such a way... a way that was more than arousing, a way that bordered on lecherous.

And that … only excited you more.

Choso sang his damn heart out, and you and the entire venue followed along every word and every beat.

When they were done, the audience cheered loudly, expressing how exhilarating their performance was, and you still had an after party to go to.

You were on such a high after that experience, you knew you needed to calm the fuck down.

.

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Because you simply could not wait to get Megumi alone.

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TSB Masterlist | Set 2>>

Set 2 Preview: "... His kisses were absolutely fucking delicious. He massaged your tongue with his, sucking your lips in intervals. His lips were soft, and his tongue warm, gliding lusciously across your skin. You wanted him to do it. Whatever he was planning, you'd grant him vip access. The level of sensuality he's displayed to you is off the charts, and you wanted nothing more than to be his special, obedient little groupie..."

Thanks for reading! ✨🥰✨

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖🎶

©cocomanga 2024 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Fanart Art: @Berserker049 via @Pinterest Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @cafekitsune

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Making Deals--A 'Roll for Initiative' Blurb

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

Inspired by an IG Reel that @hoodharlow sent me and also by the anon that asked about if the recognition is ever too much.

___________________

"If it's that bad, I don't want you working there. We can make a plan, find something else for you to do. We always find a way."

Joe is right. There is a way. Though the Bengals had a spectacular season so far, the stares didn't stop. It's horrible timing to bring it up now, with play-offs looming that they're headed into, but one patient who seemed a little too intent on having words with you, paused after they were check out from their appointment, to comment, "Tell that boyfriend of yours to keep it tight now. We've been here before in Championships talks. We need a Lombardi."

And that--that's the straw that broke the camel's back. You could handle the glances, the whispers, the phones that couldn't record inside, but you were sure by the speed of their fingers, were texting at the very least about you. But you could not tolerate that--the kind of entitlement that just because you were there doing a normal job in a relationship with Joe that anything about the relationship was open to discussion--including his job.

Joe reaches for the lunch bag resting in the passenger seat. Storm has leapt up into your car and working now to walk across the middle console, but the second Joe cracked open the door, the words were spilling out of your mouth, "I think it's getting bad at work."

And Joe responded, as always, with a kind of level headness that you think you could envy if you weren't in a relationship with him. Still, all that remains is that Joe is right. You two could still make a plan.

"But I still have like a year left on my car." It's not the kind of counter you lob with malicious intent. It's just worry. If you're not doing something, you're worried about the remaining responsibilities you had. Joe was already matching your student loan payments to help you out of the debt faster. But you don't want to offload everything onto him.

He laughs, all mostly an exhaled tuft, a whispered sound. "I think the zeros in my account won't be hurt."

"I'm being serious."

Again, Joe is right. You won't negate that, but you can't just up and quit your job to do nothing. And there are things you want to do, but you don't even have the means to begin thinking your qualified enough for them. Not right now. How would you even start a business and how would you keep it afloat?

"I know you are. You just looked anxious. Wanted to make you laugh. Clearly, I'm not a comedian so I won't be quitting football just yet. How about instead I feed you and then we can talk after dinner?"

"You feed me or Jordan?" you tease in return, referring to Joe's chef.

"I'll have you know your lemon pepper wings should have," Joe starts with a flick of his wrist to look down at his smartwatch, "another 3 minutes left in the air fryer."

"Well, shit," you laugh, undoing the seat belt. "You should've started with that."

"That's what I wanted to see. I'll take your coat too if you take Storm."

Not that it's a question, not that it ever needs to be, you slip your arm under Storm and he settles in instantly. The house smells alive--more so than usual and you can hear it, the whir of the Air Fryer. You settle Storm back down onto the floor. He weaves around your feet, between your legs, his body vibrating with the purrs. Joe called himself Storm's stepdad--a distant kind of love and care--but it's not lost on you after Joe places your lunch bag next to the sink, he hums against you in the tight embrace.

Like father, like son.

"I'm sorry that person was rude to you today," Joe whispers into your neck.

You're sorry too, but you're focused more on the smell of Joe's bodywash, the mixture of the detergent in his sweatshirt's fabric. Joe tries to pull away, but you tighten around him. Here is safe and that's where you want to stay. "One more minute, please," you beg.

"Of course, baby."

Naturally Joe's brain is churning, always spinning in a way that you can't see, but you know is going. So when he offers a match on your car loan too after dinner-1.5x payment to everyone 1 payment you make--you're not shocked. The plates settle into the sink for the time being and Joe pauses on his way to cabinet to grab the dishwasher packet.

"What do you think? I think if we take care of your car first, then you can take your time before landing on your next job. Since I know you want to work."

It would mean having to work through the rest of the season, but you can stomach that. You think. Not that you’d want to leave abruptly. There’s not much your boss could do, though you did okay the email campaign asking for the privacy of employees to be respected, you know there’s only so far they can go. Postings on the doors often go unread. You’re not left out to dry, which is a plus, so you don’t want to leave and burn the bridge god forbid, you need it again. 

With a finger, you pause Joe and find your phone. You know how much you have left roughly and start running the numbers. By the time the off season starts, you could leave. You still have of course the money you've managed to save living with Joe to help you with odds and ends. of your own.

"Let me sleep on it?" you ask. It looks good right now but you want to marinate longer on it. Make sure that you’re doing what you feel is right for yourself. "But you're sure you're okay with that? Shouldering that much financial burden?"

His smirk grows, the corner of his mouth lifting higher and higher.

"Alright, Joseph," you snort, knowing exactly where he's about to go. How the zeros in his account will not be hurt. 

The gasp that escapes Joe is sharp. He slaps a hand to his chest, ever so gingerly falling into the fridge door. "Baby, you've wounded me. My government name. I don't even know that guy."

"I wish I didn't either, right now."

The distance is hardly a few steps for Joe and he slides in, arms pushing towards the edge of the kitchen island counter, not trapping you in, but it does keep you in place. Joe presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, a slow kiss. One that drags his bottom lip against your cheek. Your spine shivers at the touch. “I wouldn’t offer it if I couldn’t handle it. Now say my name, properly this time.”

“I might need convincing,” you whisper against his cheek, hands slipping under the sweatshirt. 

His laughter is soft, but strained, the kind of sound all from his throat--a dark and still amused rumbling. “What did you say once? That you wanted me to make your day?”

“Well, are you?”

You wait a beat, stomach quaking at the speed of Joe’s movement. One moment you’re standing, kissing along his jaw, and the next, Joe’s got your legs wrapped around his waist. You cling to his neck, laughter bubbling from your chest. “Oh, I hope you’re in for a long night then. Because I’m going to get it out of you. One way or a-fucking-nother.” His words are growled against your throat, low and rumbly. Your arousal is hot in your stomach. 

“Please, hon,” you whimper at the nip of his teeth at your neck. 

It only takes a few days to agree. That once your car is paid off fully, you'll quit and then try to pivot. You're still not sure what you'll do but at the very least you know you won't have to endure it too much longer. The decision lightens your shoulders, eases the tension between them and somewhere in the four days it took you to agree, the persistent headache that grew at the base of your neck, disappears. You feel new, revived in a way that you hadn't realized just how burdened you'd been with the constant eyes.

You leave work early, the others at the front desk encourage you to take it, with a few last minute cancellations and only one person is able to take the earlier appointment time, there's not a ton of work you're leaving behind. So you take it, leave work with just a little more bounce in your step.

There's a few groceries you need to go so you take advantage of the early afternoon. Perhaps, you'll even grab some flowers for the house. Neither you or Joe have managed to keep them in rotation with the season going. But now feels like a good time.

The grocery store is busier than you anticipate but that doesn’t deter you. You’ve got a whole afternoon now, plenty of time. Joe should be on his way home from practice and this detour to the grocery store won’t put you getting back home at your usual time but still early enough to surprise him. The cold nips at you just as you cross over the threshold into the store. Your cart has a bit of a squeaky wheel, but you won’t be long in the store. 

The flowers are right near the entrance so they’re the first thing you grab--though they don’t look fresh, they still look relatively good and should hold for a week hopefully. There’s mustard you need to grab, some more bread, burger patties, toilet paper, and clorox wipes. You’re sure there’s probably more, but that’s what you noticed and you need to get them now before the weekend. The playoffs aren’t local and should the Bengals continue to advance, you do have plans to fly out for the championship game and SuperBowl. 

After placing the bread down in your basket, you find yourself pausing on the aisle. You were pretty sure about the mustard when you first arrived into the grocery story, but now, you're not sure about the ketchup. And that doubt leaves you to doubt if you really need either condiment in the first place. “And this is why we have a list,” you mutter to yourself as you push your basket down and figure you’ll grab the mustard while it’s on your mind. You wouldn't recall mustard if you had much left.

“Oh, sorry,” you rush out, noticing the motion from the corner of your eye as someone steps out between the racks of wine, nearly into the line of your basket. You just barely catch the movement thanks to a rather ill placed pole in the top corner of the aisle between the condiments and the alcohol.

There’s a squeak, shoes gripping on the floor and you pull the cart back towards yourself. “They really shouldn’t have that pole in--” The words die in your throat as you look up, only to find Joe, head raising up from his phone, eyes wide. 

His apology falls fast from his lips, “Sorry.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

“Baby, what are you doing here?” he grins, pocketing the device. 

“What are you doing here?” you laugh.

He sets the small handheld basket onto the edge of your larger one. There’s bread, patties,and a few of your favorite snacks already tucked into the basket.  “Being a good partner and getting stuff needed for the house. Are you playing hooky from work?”

“I was released early with permission. How dare you insinuate that I don’t take my job seriously?” It’s faux offense that paints your words and the laughter is easy even in the middle of the aisle. 

His eyes fall into the basket. “You should probably put those flowers back.”

“Why? These are the best looking ones they have.”

Joe’s eyes dazzle when you look back up from his pointed gesture. “Because I have an arrangement I’m picking up once we leave here.”

“Oh, but not the double patties.”

“No, because I’m sure I could destroy a pack by myself right now, which means if you don’t have extra just for you, you’re going to be sad because I swear it’s like every other week you want a burger or a frozen pizza for dinner.”

“I eat healthy every other instance though.”

“Because someone has to make sure you get vegetables.” The retort is primed, ready on your tongue, but he’s quicker.  “And no, potatoes don’t count. They’re a starch. Which one of us is the professional athlete?” The arch of his brow is lethal, makes your stomach flutter though at how stern he is over making sure you’re eating well. 

“Are you flirting with me in the middle of this grocery store? I swear you are looking like that.”

“If I was, you wouldn’t question it. Now, scoot,” Joe drops the smaller basket into the cart, fingers waving you away from the handle of the cart. “Do we need ketchup or mustard?”

There’s little hassle from you so you slide over, letting him take over. “I can’t remember, if I’m honest. I thought it was just mustard and then started to doubt myself.” Both bottles land into the basket. He pushes onward and you start right behind him, only to wind up distracted by the display at the end of the aisle at all the Christmas displays, though it’s still a couple weeks away. Your distraction only lasts for a second before you spy his hand reaching back, a slight wiggle of his digits to beckon you. 

“Can I make a case for Christmas cookies on this shopping venture?”

“The ones with the trees or the snowman ones?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Only if it’s trees and you promise not to tell my coach.”

“Trees it is.”

[nova-amor]

MDNI. simon riley's used to spending his early mornings alone, in fact, he prefers it. well, that was until you started running laps around him. 1.4k

brown leaves crunched beneath the weight of his soles smacking against the pavement, each step measured and calculated as the frosty morning air nipped away at his lungs. the sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting a blaze of reds and pinks through the sky as the shadows of the night faded away. there was not a soul in sight, the earth around him silent and baren aside from the occasional coo from a morning dove or the purr of a truck’s engine passing by.

this was simon riley’s favorite part of the day.

while everyone else on base was beginning the start of their day, simon took advantage of his alone time through a series of routines. every morning simon awoke around four a.m., his body still sore and exhausted from the prior training day, and always began his day with a tall glass of water and a quick review of that day’s schedule. he’d check in at the gym within the hour, the space empty and devoid of any life beyond the occasional fitness spouse.

the next hour or so was spent on strength and conditioning, rolling through the exercises with great ease due to the intense care he maintained over his physique. after a brief cool down and an even briefer rinse in the shower, simon would continue his exercise outside— regardless of rain, shine, snow, or heat, simon would always finish his routine out on the running track.

donned in grey sweats, a black compression t-shirt, and a training mask, simon would hit the tracks at a steady yet quick pace, keeping a close watch over his heart rate and oxygen intake through the assistance of his smartwatch. simon could run for hours at such a controlled pace, his training both in and out of work had allowed him to garner an incredible stamina.

while lost in his mind, simon would bask in the comfort of following such a tight routine. every morning started the same for him. every morning was perfectly tailored to suit his wants and needs. every morning was quiet and calm, allowing simon the peace and time to gather himself before interacting with another soul at work. every morning was—

“on your left.” a flash of grey passed simon in a blur, their heavy footfall to his left reeling him in from his thoughts.

so much for being alone. simon thought to himself, his eyes narrowed on the sight of another individual on the track.

no one was ever on the track at this time. he hadn’t spent his morning run with another person since he began his routine a few years ago. simon rolled his head around, feeling for the satisfying crack of a tight joint in his neck as he chose to ignore you for the duration of his run. he wasn’t going to allow such a small wedge to ruin his routine.

“on your left.” there you were again. passing simon without a care in the world, your pace nearly twice as fast as his. yet, even from afar, he could tell you hadn’t even broken a sweat— most likely due to the cool winter air.

simon’s eyes grazed over you, drinking in your physique. even at a distance, simon could tell you were another special operator, most likely attached to another unit due to how he had rarely seen you before. but, he was sure he had seen you previously. he never forgot a face; he didn’t couldn’t forget someone with such a tight—

“on your left.” simon was beginning to grow annoyed. the constant interruption of his thoughts was beginning to eat at him, his frustration reflecting in how much he had quickened his pace. his long legs began to carry him at a faster stride, catching up to you within just a few seconds. he was so sure he was going to pass you, so sure that he—

a dust cloud bit away at simon’s vision, the orange dust of the track’s ground kicked up purposefully to distract him. by the time simon had regained his vision, you were gone. no, wait, simon scanned his surroundings intensely, you were—

“on your left, lt.” you teased, an amused smirk tugging on your lips as you synced up with simon’s pace. your hands were curled into fists, arms tucked in and breaths controlled at a steady rate as you leisurely jogged next to him.

“need a medic, lt?” your voice was too bubbly, too chipper for this early in the morning. especially for someone who had been running at your earlier pace. simon rolled his eyes, biting away at his bottom lip to maintain a stoic face. even under the cover of the training mask, you would most definitely catch a glimpse of the smile threatening to bloom on his face.

“no need, sergeant,” simon finally realized why you had seemed too familiar, he had worked with you before on previous missions. you were a fac— a forward air controller, attached to a neighboring unit in the squadron. he had worked with you before on a few particular missions that required the use of a fac, your role was pivotal in ensuring that there was a clear line of communication between ground and air forces. “just need a new set of lungs is all. you were doing laps around me.” simon continued, his speech slightly muffled by the mask.

“quite easy to do when i’m competing against an old man,” you joked, your pace slowing down to a walking one, simon was quick to join you. “and, it’s staff sergeant to you, lt. i made rank a few months ago.”

“well, excuse me, staff sergeant,” simon teased, drawing out the syllables of your rank title. he came to a halt along the side of the track, finding shade beneath a nearby tree. you followed after him, unzipping your hoodie and exposing your bare midriff. the minimal sweat you had produced glistened on your smooth skin, simon’s eyes shamelessly dipping over the curve of your sports bra-covered chest. “didn’t realize there was a competition going on between us, otherwise, i would have left you in the dust.” simon’s attention flickered back up to your face, his arms crossing over his chest— puffing his large pectorals out.

“well, there’s always next time, riley,” you winked up at him with a coquettish grin. you then glanced down at the watch on your wrist, a white message drawing your attention away from him briefly.

you were quick to dismiss the message, “ah, sorry, duty calls. got a pre-mission brief to attend to.” you informed him. you then straightened your posture, rolling your shoulders back as you gazed up at simon. “thanks for the run this morning though— well if that’s what you call running anyway.” you poked at him teasingly.

“ouch,” simon recoiled in faux pain, placing a hand over his heart as if your words had truly injured him. “is that how it is? didn’t your parents teach ya to respect your elders?” he played into the fun, no longer choosing to hide the smile that grew beneath his training mask. even under its cover, he couldn’t hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes nor the way his eyes crinkled at the corners with the rise of his cheekbones.

you took a step back, pulling a small device out from your jacket pocket— most likely a small key fob for your car. “oh, they did. doesn’t mean i had to listen.” with two clicks of a button, your car just a few strides away turned on, white lights beaming even under the looming bright light of the sun.

“see you later, lt.” you called out as you made your way in the direction of your car. with one final wave of your hand and a playful smile on your lips, you disappeared behind the black tint of your car’s glass, fully leaving simon alone on the track as you peeled out of the gym’s parking lot.

simon threw up his hand in a quick attempt to wave ‘goodbye’ as your car rounded the corner, his heart stammering in his chest. as soon as your car was out of his line of sight, he looked back down to his watch. his heart rate was elevated beyond average, beating almost twice as fast as it normally did whenever he was just standing about leisurely. he stood there for another moment, drinking the information in before he began to head off in the direction of his car.

as he stepped into his car, the sickly sweet scent of pine invaded his senses as he peeled his training mask off, a message soon appearing across his watch face. “same time tomorrow, lt? — ssgt [name]”

[indigo-brainspark]

Misfits!AU Young Avengers: Proof of Concept

"This is your chance," the probation worker droned. "To do something good. Give back to the community..."

Billy had his hands buried in his pockets to hide the shaking, hood pulled low so that nobody from school might see him. He glanced at the five other people in his group.

He didn't know what he had been expecting. Stereotypical delinquents who had no intention of cleaning up their act? Other kids like him, who'd just made a mistake??

It was a bit of both. The blond boy who wouldn't look out of place in a football team stood with his shoulders slumped, looking extremely uncomfortable. The tall girl with designer purple shades was fiddling with her smartwatch.

"There're some people out there who think you're trash!"

What sort of pep talk was this?

The boy with shaved head who had been here and ready before Billy fidgeted slightly. The sophomore girl with her hair in a ponytail had rolled back her jumpsuit's sleeve to write on her arm.

The probation worker soldiered on. "This is your chance to prove them wrong, by-"

"Shit, are you still going?" a new voice burst in. A lean boy with light blond hair and yellow sunglasses haphazardly balanced on his nose wandered onto the scene. "I thought I'd come late to skip the lecture and get right to the hard labour."

The probation worker gave a world-weary sigh. "Shepherd. Got my hopes up when I didn't see you for a year straight."

'Shepherd' laughed, sharp and mocking. He was wobbling slightly. Clearly hungover, yet no one called him out on it. "Nah, man, that's just how long they were able to keep me in juvie."

"Wish this stunt sent you back in," the probation worker grumbled. "Just get fucking changed."

-----

"So, uh, what'd you do?" Teddy nervously asked the boy with his hoodie pulled over his head. Billy, maybe. They didn't exactly do an icebreaker before they started shoveling garbage.

Tommy called out from several meters away. "What haven't I done is a better question!"

"Stayed quiet for thirty minutes?" Kate jabbed, grinning even as she poked at an ant-infested takeaway box.

Tommy laughed, "You giving me a good reason to, Richy Rich?"

Billy angled his head towards Teddy, quietly answering the original question while the two bantered. "Got busted at a party with drinks. It- it was a mistake. I wasn't even supposed to be there."

"It was trespassing for me," Teddy confided.

-----

"Damn," Kate drawled with a wicked smile, the encriminating report in her hand. "Black market steroids, Eli? Didn't think you were that type of guy."

Eli stared at her. "I didn't know that at the time, okay?! Where did you even find that-"

"Doping? This guy?? How scandalous!" Tommy snatched it from her.

Eli gritted his teeth. "Not everyone's in national-level sports. There was no doping scandal."

Tommy's face twitched. A crack in the facade Eli took too much pleasure in seeing. It wasn't fair, how he never seemed to care. Like pissing away a career was no big deal.

"Fuck off, Eli. A guy's gotta keep his aura of mystique," Cassie jumped in.

And Cassie and Kate were no better. Living separated from the consequences, except for whatever they did to end up here.

------

"It's just- such bullshit," Cassie vented, hugging her knees. "So he's rich and famous and rubbing shoulders with heroes. Whoopdedo. I just- I just want my dad, you know?"

Kate made sympathetic noises and took a drag of her vape.

"And he barely looks at me, except when I screw up. He keeps saying he wants me to be better. To not repeat his mistakes. But maybe I don't have the spark that got him into Pym Labs. Maybe I only got the part of which was a screw-up."

"My parents don't talk to me even when I screw up," Kate finally said. "So you have a better relationship than me. Does that make you feel better?"

Cassie pouted, and Kate was struck with how separated this was from her usual whip-smart humor.

------

It started as a storm cloud that came out of nowhere, roiling with green and blue lightning more vivid than Cassie had ever seen.

"Okay, guys," the highly disagreeable probation worker stepped in. "We should head inside the community center. This wasn't in the forecast and that could dry lightning-"

It was upon them in seconds. Before they were able to get the doors unlocked, lightning crashed down, and everything went bright green.

------

"We had some weird weather," Billy told his mom on the way back. He'd changed in a daze. Everyone had looked out of it after waking up from that lightning burst, with the storm nowhere to be found.

"Oh?" she asked. "I suppose it is an unusually cloudless day."

No. No, that couldn't be right...

His skin was still tingling from the strike.

-----

"Anyone seen Cassie?" Kate asked nonchalantly, two hours in and no sign of Cassie.

"She's bunking, good for her," Tommy nodded, unconcerned.

Kate glared at him.

-----

Heavy footfalls were behind Tommy. In front was a side door into the community theater, locked except for when volunteers went out to smoke.

This merry hatchet-wielding chase had gone all the way around the park, and Tommy strangely didn't feel out of breath at all. Really, he felt that he could go faster.

But he didn't, because he'd been taught to pace himself. Not use all the gas in the tank when it was a war of attrition.

His hands slammed against the side door. It was locked.

"Dammit, dammit, no!" he beat his fists against the door. Through the narrow glass panel, he could see the others taking their break. Come on, Kate, you could've been careless after your nicotine beak!

The footsteps stopped. Silence for a second, then a scream of rage with the underlying schwing of a hatched-

And Tommy fell forward, into the hallway.

He scrambled further in to get away from the probation officer. Only to turn around and still find the door locked tight.

Everyone was standing at attention.

"You- you-" Teddy sputtered.

"Figure that out when that madman isn't trying to kill me!" Tommy pointed at the door, which the probation officer was hacking through with terrifying efficiency.

"What'd you do to piss him off so bad?" Billy wondered. "I mean, you're an annoying person by nature but-"

"I'm going to swirlie you, you little-!" Tommy elbowed him in the gut.

The probation officer barged in, and everyone backed away to give him a clear path to Tommy. Fucking traitors, all of them.

It served them right, really, when Tommy didn't turn out to be his only target, and the man swung for Eli, who reacted defensively and threw his hands up to push the man away.

Eli was a slim guy. Worked out, but nothing compared to Teddy. But the probation officer slammed into the opposing wall anyway, with a resounding crunch.

He landed slumped over, head tilted at an unnatural angle. No one approached, even once the hatchet was out of his hands.

Billy had to reach forward to look him over with trembling hands. But the diagnosis was what everyone feared when they realized he wasn't moving. "He's dead."

Tommy whistled. "Those are some crazy steroids."

Kate, his partner in discord, punched him.

Eli fell to the ground, staring at his hands.

[narcissarina]

𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

જ⁀➴Previous chapter

Pairings: bodyguard!Leon × college billionaire!reader

Word count: 2,054

Tw: blood, trauma to reader (slayed), Leon being the bad ass agent as he is.

Summary: You found him, he found you.

𝙸𝚇.

You can’t believe it.

You just shot someone, someone’s son or husband.

Panic sets in when you heard footsteps approaching, you want to ask for help but they start to act aggressive and howls like a god damn wolf, started twitching and shaking uncontrollably as the person act aggressively and you shot him right between his brows.

He perfectly got down and died on the floor and right between your legs. Tears escapes from your eyes, you starts to hyperventilating again as you take a couple of deep breaths before standing up with wobbly legs. Taking the bag with you and the gun that happens to be under the bed, it’s in a box so you took it and claim it yours.

Finders keepers, right?

Outside was ruin, forest haunting and creepy.

You couldn’t believe that someone took you away from your home, you comfort and done unspeakable things to your body. You are ruined.

Fighting the tears that blurred your vision, you reload your gun. Leon’s taught you how to handle a gun and loading and unloading it became handy. You steady your focus and analyze your surroundings, good thing your purse is still with you and your smartwatch.

Time check: 5:05 PM

Almost dark, you need to find somewhere safe and if Leon is here, may you pray that he finds you nor you find him.

You’d cry in his arms and sniffle a disgusting snot from your nostrils. How you just crave Korean foods and it results you getting kidnapped. You want to feel his touch, his lips kissing the crown of your head, his fingers caressing your hair and back as he rocks you like a baby you are.

He would sing assurance to your ear, mumbling that it’s not your fault and that you’re brave for making it this far to finding him rather than staying in the cottage that you were held experimented on.

You wanted to cry at that thought, but held back those tears. If Leon was here, he would tell you to fight and take what felt like you have lost.

You were taken away from your home. Your butler must be worried, your best friend crying and your parents constant worry and reporting to every possible authorities.

You need to fight for them and stay alive, you still have a future to fulfill. Do it for them, for yourself and Leon’s.

You held your power-bank light in your free hand, careful not to step to any branches that could potentially make a sound and alert more things than it should be. (Funny that you have your power-bank with you but not your phone, must it be for your smart watch?)

Steps were slow and steady, flashing your light to every corner of your surroundings, which is filled with more god damn trees. The hair from your neck stood up as you snap your head back.

There, stood a human figure, you squint your eyes to get a better look at their face.

“what the fuck..?” you mutter, your eyes widen as you made sure, “that’s not human…” you added, stepping back as you step on a branch. The figure that stood before you in the distance has a menacing smile, bloodshot eyes and tears were black as the void.

Your body was frozen, your breathing became heavy again—your head dizzy and your palm sweating from holding the light and gun too tight.

The figure tilts its head until it rotated to 360° which is humanly impossible for a normal person, it let out a quiet screech. Got down to the ground, and starts chasing after you in speed.

As if in instinct, you ran. You ran away with much speed as possible, it’s laugh were scary and it’ll give you nightmares when you sleep. It’d haunt your dreams and kill you while you sleep.

Tears accidentally slipped down as you mindlessly ran away, not knowing which directions you’d go.

“Help!” you screamed from the top of your lungs as you sniffle, a laugh broke out from the entity that’s still chasing you. It called your name but you didn’t respond. What you needed right now is to find someone to help you.

You don’t have much choice… for now.

Leon was out of the mansion, the sun is setting. His objective for now is to find you as soon as possible—a voice broke out to his earpiece, “Hunnigan,” Leon spoke, “find anything?” he asked.

“I did, but it seems like she’s not in the cottage anymore.” A disappointed sigh was heard from Hunnigan from the other side of Leon’s earpiece, he frowns and take a deep sigh, “all right, thank y—”

“Help!”

Leon’s attention was snatched away, he snap his head to his left. Focusing his hearing to his surroundings, “Leon? Hello, are you still there?” Hunnigan asked.

“I found something, thank you.” Leon whispered and slowly walked towards the trees and move his head to the side. He could hear branches snapping and a cry for help and an inhumane screams and screeching that would make his ear bleed.

He took his gun, pointed between the two trees and waited for someone or something to come out.

“Don’t shoot!” a familiar voice yelled, it was yours but his attention was at something that was following you, you quickly threw yourself at Leon with your aching and bleeding leg. As the entity emerges from the forest and started crawling faster than he could imagine.

He held you in his arm, while he shoots at the monster a couple of times until it was shrieking from each bullets and its pace was slowed down. It lie dead on the ground, twitching and black blood spilling.

Leon turned his attention to you, “princess?” he mutters, you nodded and sniffle at his arm. “It’s okay, I’m here…” he mumbles and pulled you into a tight hug, “I’ll get us out of here, yeah?” he kissed your forehead, his palm cupping your cheeks as he brush those tears away from your eye.

“I’m here, I’m here and you’re safe.” He continuously assured, craving it at the back of your mind that you are safe, he’s with you and he’s not going to let anyone or anything hurt you.

“It’s getting dark, I’m sure you need some energy and sleep.” Leon mutters as you nodded, “you’re bleeding…” Leon frown at the sight of your leg bleeding, he also noticed that you have a bag pack with you.

“Let’s get you ins—” what Leon hates most that he gets cut off every time he fucking talks, “shit!” he curses and turns around to see the entity he couldn’t kill, its body was distorted as its face and laugh. You whine at the sight, he uses his body to shield you from the entity that he failed to kill.

“God fucking damn it,” he carried you bridal style as he knew that you’re too injured to even run. It chases the two of you, you could only close your eyes and muffle your cries and cling closely to Leon.

Leon found the basement was open and made the creature away as far away from that safe zone, he’d shoot any enemies if there are any inside.

“Hold on tight, princess.” Leon mutters right to your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he made a run for it. You clung to him like a koala, his two hands finally set free as you made sure to hug as tight as you can.

He ran, with you clinging to him. He almost missed to grab the two handles and shut the door of the basement. It was dark, and it reeks of rotten fish. “You can let go now, you’re safe.” Leon mutters and gave your neck a kiss to calm you down.

You slowly let down your feet as it finds the ground and you let down the other. Leon find the light switch and turned it one, there was a few zombies inside and he quickly got them removed from the frame.

“Stay here.” You nod and decides to listen for now. You watch Leon swiftly move one bodies to another and stack them up right in the corner. He found a clean mop and two buckets of clean water, one with powered soap and one clear water.

You watch him clean the floor for you, to get rid of the rotten smell. You smiled at him, lifting the muscle from your face was kind of hard since your tears were practically dried and hard on your face.

“what’s so funny, princess?” Leon asked as he wipe his sweat with his wrist. His attention was now in his earpiece, “have you found her, Leon?”

“Yeah, she’s safe. She’s bleeding though.” Leon turn his head and his eyes scans your injured leg, you were standing idly and tilt your head to Leon.

“Good, after retrieving the item. Make sure to get her home safely.” Leon nodded at Hunnigans words, “you can count on me.” Before the call gets disconnected.

Leon finishes mopping the floor wet and got some clean dry mop again to dry the floor.

He also found a sleeping bag and other useful things inside this basement, he thought to himself that they used this as a storage room.

“Come here, princess.” Leon gestures as he sat down on the sleeping bag, the softness of it makes him relax. You made your way to him, legs still wobbly as you sat down with him. He turn to you and caress your bleeding leg, “may I?”

You nodded and lift your leg to him, you hiss at the pain and choke a sob. “I got some aid kit…” your voice dry and hoarse, he nodded and gestures for you to give him the bag. He takes the aid kit out and began to change your bandage.

“I’m sorry…” an apology got out from your lips, Leon turns his head and cock an eyebrow, “sorry for what, princess?” his voice low and his tone calm, “that I added another burden to your shoulder.” You sniffle and began to have a breakdown.

“Hey, hey…” Leon coos, finishing wrapping another bandage roll when he cleaned your wound. He pulls you into his strong arms as the cologne you’d grew to love hits your nostrils, “It’s not your fault, and you are not a burden.”

“No one wants to be in a situation like this, sweetheart.” His hand caress the back of your hair. “But, you were one brave woman.” He praises, lift your chin with his finger to have your eyes look at his cold yet loving gaze.

“I am here whenever you need me, I’m still on duty as your bodyguard. Am I right?” he chuckles and gently pushed you away to get another sleeping bag, you whined and held his hand, you don’t want him to be away from you more than one second.

He look down at your vulnerable form, you were cute—Leon thought to his mind, he would be damned if he got hard to situations like this.

“I’m just gonna get another sleeping bag.” You shake your head to his words, a voice barely going out to your lips but he manage to catch it, “sleep with me.”

He sigh and nodded, “all right,” he tuck you and himself in and pulled you to cuddle. You clung and acted the little spoon, his hand to the curve of your waist as he sprayed kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You smiled and felt relax to the sensation and scoot yourself closer to him.

“You need some rest, sweetheart.” You nod to his words, sleep finally hitting you when your mind and body felt assured that Leon is here to protect you and that he’ll get the two of you safe.

You were sound asleep, so adorable and little before him. Leon’s mind wonders how he could get the few pieces of the relic he needed to retrieve when it’s inside you. There might be a lab somewhere in this mansion that he could bring you.

But for now, he should get some sleep with you.

A smile forms on his lips, “sleep tight, baby.”

He mutter in a loving tone before getting an eye shut.

Next Chapter>>>

[pixels-not-dreams]

splash || light yagami x reader

Light pulls his hand away with a sharp inhale. He looks like he’s leaned against a stove, having forgotten that it was just on. It occurs to you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him look surprised. It’s only a split second before he scowls at you. He doesn’t usually do that.

You look down. You’re sitting on the edge of Light’s desk, skirt pushed up to the tops of your thighs. This is, in and of itself, not unusual. Light has myriad ways of keeping his lackeys in line. Forcing you to work in various states of undress is one of his favorites. What is unusual, however, is that you had just pissed on the desk, the carpet, and Light’s hand.

You rewind the last ten minutes in your head, wondering how exactly you’d found yourself in a pool of your own piss in Light’s office. He had commanded you to sit on the edge of the desk with your legs apart. You don't wear anything under your skirts. Light forbids it.

He’d taken his middle and ring fingers, long and tan from playing tennis under the sun, and slid them easily into your cunt. Most people needed to be prepared for something like this; but you were so devoted to him that just being in his office made you wet enough to take him.

He hadn't been paying close attention. He'd been barking text-to-speech into his smartwatch when you realized you were going to come. Light didn't really care about your pleasure, really—it was clear that he enjoyed the activity as a demonstration of his mastery in all things.

Light often lets you finish, and other times leaves you hanging. He pulls his hand out of you and wipes his fingers on your shirt, or makes you lick them clean. He didn't seem to get off on this. You weren't entirely sure what he got out of it, but questioning Light never ended well for you.

“Kira-sama,” you’d squeaked, voice weak and airy as he pumped his right hand and snapped voice commands into the watch on his left. “If you keep going I’m going to—I’m going to—can you let me, this time?”

You didn't think he'd been listening, but he must have been, since he curled his fingers up inside you, pressed the heel of his hand to your clit, and made your eyes roll back in your head. That must have been when it had happened.

You'd had this happen before, alone with your hands between your legs in the shower or in bed, but never like this. Before, you hadn't even been sure what it was. Now it’s unmistakable. Your face burns.

Light casts his eyes down to his hand, the carpet, and back to you again. He looks agape. You haven't seen him like this—never.

He blinks slowly, once, twice, and in slow motion rears back. You brace. He brings his open hand to slap you across the face. It's wet, and still warm. You feel your teeth knocking against each other.

“Kira-sama,” you gasp, pressing your hand to your cheek. “That hurt.”

“Very good, Y/N,” he says. His voice is scathing. “It's what you deserve. Now I need to buy a carpet steamer.” He reaches behind you for a bottle of hand sanitizer and furiously pumps it into his palm. When he's done, he whips it at your head. You flinch just in time for him to miss by an inch.

“It was an accident,” you whisper.

“I don't care,” Light says before you can even get the words out. “This desk is cherry wood.” He sets his jaw and lunges forward, wrapping his hand around your waist and shoving you to the floor. The carpet is still wet when you break your fall with your hands.

He's right—it is disgusting. But you don't want to incur his wrath; not like this. You want to be punished, not hated, so you kneel obediently and duck your head.

“Kira-sama,” you say, folding your hands underneath your nose. “Forgive me. I was overcome with pleasure from your perfect hands. You were too good, too capable, and I lost control. I'm weak, I know. Please let me make it up to you.”

In a final show of submission, you bow your head all the way to the floor, resting your forehead on the tainted carpet.

“Get up, Y/N,” Light snaps. “Pathetic.”

You sit up. Your eyes are still closed. He's standing very close to you—you can smell his orangey cologne. You open your eyes and see the strain near his zipper. After all his puffery, he was hard the entire time. You wrap your arms around his leg, rest your cheek on his cock, and smile.

[lou-struck]

Snow-Covered Slippers

Katsuki Bakugo x reader

25 Days of Ficmas Day 3

W.C: 1.6k

~Bakugo's frosty winter morning with you is interrupted when you bring a guest into your home.

It’s one of those rare, cozy winter mornings with Katsuki. Your living room windows are covered in last night’s frost as you sit cross-legged on the couch watching some morning talk show. The host is learning how to make a delicious-looking maple glaze salmon dish.

You make a mental note to save that recipe for later by slipping it into your boyfriend’s recipe binder so he can make it for you.

“I know that look, you’re up to no good aren’t you?” Katsuki asks, pulling you from your thoughts with a steaming cup of coffee. It smells like cinnamon and vanilla. 

Like Home

Like Him

“thank you,” you hum, blowing on the west of steam before taking a tentative sip. You tiredly sigh into the drink. It tastes like heaven, and you look up at the Blond in thankful wonder. Coffee always tastes better to you when someone else makes it. And he knows it. It only takes him a few minutes to do, but it’s one of the easiest ways he can think of to remind you just how much he cares. Especially since he’s not too fond of the mushy stuff. 

“You should make me that.” You giggle, pointing out the recipe on the screen.

His eyes narrow as he reads the description. “I can make you something way better than that babe,” he scoffs. 

You raise a brow. “Can you really?”

“Hell yeah, I can,” he smirks. Knowing that he had fallen for your very obvious dinner-related plot.

You are interrupted by the knocking on your front door. A happy smile appears on your face as you set your coffee cup down and spring up from the sofa.

 “Huh, what’s Shitty Hair’s car doing out front?” Katsuki asks as your fuzzy socks pad across the hardwood floors.

“You’ll see.” Open the door to see the familiar-looking redhead. Little flakes of snow stand out against the brilliant red shade of his hair, and you notice he is wearing his winter Hero Costume and clutching a tiny black and gray pitbull puppy that wiggles in his gentle yet firm grip as it tries to get closer to you. 

You smile brilliantly as you see the puppy. “You brought my Godson!”

He greets you with a smile full of pointy teeth. “Hey y/n. Thank you guys so much for helping me out with Rocky.”

“Who the hell is Rocky?” Bakugou grumbles, rounding the corner. Stopping in his tracks when he sees the little dog in his friend’s arms. The last time the two of you had dog-sat, he was tormented by your neighbor’s teleporting puppy. So you know this is messing with him.

“Hey, Bakubro,” the redhead beams, looking at his bestie. “I got called in to work at the last minute and didn’t have time to drop Rocky off at his doggy daycare so y/n said you guys would watch him for a few hours.”

Upon hearing your name, Katsuki turns and looks at you with a look of betrayal on his face. “When the hell were you gonna tell me about this?” He asks. 

You go up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Your version of an apology, even though your words say otherwise. “I wasn’t.”

“Why, you little-” he starts to growl, and you ignore him, turning your attention back to the poor Hero, who is still standing out in the cold. He’s too polite to say anything to you, but you can tell that he’s not just cold but also stressed about the time.

“Hey, don’t worry. Rocky is in good hands,” you say, holding out your arms to take the little guy. He squirms in Kiri’s grip, trying to get closer to this new, good-smelling person while letting out the most adorable little yips. 

The Hero looks relieved and, with a sigh, hands the little dog over to you. His paws press against your chest as his little pink tongue gives you a little lick on the cheek. You can’t help but notice that these little paws may seem little to you right now but are far too big for his tiny body. Rocky is going to be huge.

“I’m glad to see he’s in good hands.” Kirishima smiles, taking one less look at his smartwatch, frowning when he reads the time. “I really gotta go, but thank you guys so much. I’ll bring food over when I’m done.”

He turns and walks away, his clunky boots nearly slipping down your snowy driveway as your boyfriend calls after him. “We don’t want your food, Shitty Hair. And stay off my grass. I can see your footprints in the snow.”

“See you later, Grandpa.” The redhead laughs, climbing into his truck and pulling out of your driveway before the blonde can chase after him in his plaid bathrobe. 

You hold the puppy happily, using your nails to scratch behind his little ears. “Hi Rocky,” you murmur, turning away from the cold door and heading back to your couch and setting him down on your hardwood floor. Thoroughly entertained as he runs around, too short to actually jump onto any of the furniture. 

“He’s so cute.” you gush as Katsuki walks back into the room. Immediately, without fear, the puppy creeps up to your boyfriend’s slippered feet, trying to play with the slightly fuzzy decals.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he grumbles, pulling his slippers away from the dog. You think this is a great opportunity to bring out one of the puppy-safe chew toys you had purchased for your godson the day Kirishima had rescued the little guy.

You toss it on the floor and Rocky gives it a little sniff before pouncing on the little carrot dude. His little teeth are not strong enough to damage the guy but you watch in fascination as he drags his new friend around your living room proudly. 

“If that thing pees on anything, I’m blasting him into next year.” Bakugou tsks, narrowing his eyes at the puppy who hasn’t done anything to him at all except steal your attention away from the secretary-clingy Blond. 

“That’s my godson you’re threatening there Katsuki.” You say seriously trying to think what little ole you can do to threaten the Hero convincingly. “Do that, and you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“You’d miss me too much,” he smirks, stepping closer to you. 

You hear Rocky’s little footsteps pad past you, but when you turn to see where he has gone, Katsuki tilts your head back towards him to pettily steal your attention with a kiss. You kiss him back shamelessly, losing any backbone you had the second his lips meet your own. 

He pulls back, and you can tell that he is more than proud of his ability to distract you from the puppy.

Puppy?

Shit…

You look around the room but don’t see the little dude or his Plush Carrot buddy anywhere. “Katsuki?” you ask with wide eyes. “Where the HELL is Rocky?”

He looks around quickly, worry etched onto his model-like features. He may have been jealous, but he would truly hate if anything were to happen to his best friend’s dog. “He’s gotta be somewhere around here. He’s too short to climb upstairs.” 

Nodding at his words, you silently agree as you slowly walk through your home. Looking for any sign of your little house guest. Silently cursing at yourself for managing to lose the little guy less than fifteen minutes after he was dropped off. 

What kind of godparent are you?

“Shit.” you hear Katsuki yell. Your feet slide across the hardwood flooring as you rush over toward the sounds. Right away, you notice Three things.

First, your front door is wide open. Hinges creaking slightly in the wind as it opens wider and wider. 

The Second, Mr. Carrot laying outside on your little porch. 

And the Third. Rocky happily frolicking through your snow-covered lawn towards the road.

You start to move, but your boyfriend is quicker. In a flash, Katsuki, in his slippers and robe, sprints out the door with fighting speed. He stumbles on the slippery surface and his slippers furiously kick up snow as he barrels towards Rocky. The Pup is too focused on catching snowflakes on his tongue he doesn’t realize he is getting closer and closer to oncoming traffic. 

“Gotcha,” Katsuki huffs, grabbing the little guy surprisingly gently and holding him close to him. A few cars pass by. An ominous message as to what could’ve been. Katsuki sees this, too, and holds the puppy just a bit close to his chest as he makes his way back inside. His robe and slippers are completely soaked from the snow, as he shrugs them off. You try to shut the door, but there appears to be a loose fixture that requires a bit more of a push than normal. It must be how Rocky was able to get out in the first place. 

“Is he okay?” you ask worriedly, reaching out to gently pet the dog’s snow-speckled ears. He still looks just as happy as before, so you feel way less concerned as Katsuki hands him to you. And he goes back to snuggling up to you. 

“We gotta get that door fixed.” he mumbles, “That was close.”

“Too close, you say, setting him back on the ground. He continues on with his exploration of the house as if he wasn’t in danger minutes ago. “Rocky goes up to the snow-covered slippers and gives them a curious sniff. His little brown nose inhales a clump of snow, and he runs away from the sensation, sniffling adorably. 

You giggle and see the soft smile on Katsuki’s face. “At least you don’t have to worry about him chewing up your slippers today.”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[xarrixii]

F/B Chapter_43 : "One of the Good Ones"

CW: none that i can think of previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

/ / / / / | ---

“You’re the best pyro I know, Alph,” Reggie mocked silently. “I’ve never seen anyone in my 34 years of life that wields fire better than you. Good control, Alph⸺”

Alph put a hand over Reggie’s mouth. The gym teacher made them want to vomit excessively all over the floor. With cat hair, stomach acid, and that mildly radioactive meal served on that blue hot-lunch tray. Reggie licked their palm and they pulled off.

“Just saying. He’s weird, dude. Like retired intel recruiter weird. Are you being scouted?”

“No?” As far as Alph knew, the government wouldn’t want a pyrokinetic in its special programs anyway. “I think he’s just a piece of shit.”

“Kineticist piece of shit,” Beth nodded, suddenly leaning on Alph’s shoulder. “This guy needs a new hobby. I think he just stalks all of the kids with kinetics. Doesn’t help he runs the yearly exam. So the government can have information on its citizens.”

Alph snorted impolitely, then laughed at the sound of it.

“The fuck was that?” Reggie snickered, lightly punching Alph.

The gym teacher whistled, yelled blue, and Reggie shrugged and walked back into dodgeball hell. Alph replaced him in line, then turned back to Beth. “What’d you purposefully get out to tell me?”

“I did not purposefully get out,” Beth said loudly, then leaned in, “but Flash Fire’s getting an update. AJ was looking at his smartwatch for notifications on the ‘medic scooter’ waiting for someone to go down. Multiplayer and ranked battles. Something about secret maps for them?”

“Multiplayer?” Alph said louder than intended, glancing over at the gym teacher who stoically stood around doing nothing. “Like, online, anytime, no arcade multiplayer?”

Beth nodded. “They finally figured out how to code their AI models to fight more than one target at once reliably. Also some lag fixes and blah blah blah.”

“Urban.”

“Quit it with the fictitious boyfriend,” Beth understood which Urban Alph meant quick enough to be sarcastic. “We get it, you have to make excuses each time as for why he can’t come down to the arcade⸺”

“For your information he’s real and he’s cooler than you are. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Beth pretended to become offended, scoffing and rolling her eyes as Alph was whistled back into play. She whispered with her teeth as Alph walked away, “But you wish he was.”

She received a polite middle finger back.

The conversation didn’t resume until Alph was walking home, head buried in their phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve released map teasers and have beta testers testing out the AI right now. Apparently accounts in the top 5% of players can access the beta for early feedback. No online play though, only lobby codes and LAN play.” 

Alph chuckled at the statistic, pausing halfway through a text. Camdyn waved it off. “Yeah, so what exactly? Alph?”

“If we want to play at my apartment, I’m sure my dad wouldn’t care. As long as no one else has any obligations.” Alph hit sent and looked up. “What? Come on. It’d be cool.”

Reggie voiced a leading note before actually speaking at a crosswalk, “Nah. I agreed to take over a shift. I think I’m already gonna be late, so I’m gonna split.”

“Seeya,” Camdyn said. Then he turned to Alph, Reggie already halfway down the intersection. “You’re not actually top 5% are you? I distinctly remember beating you at an arcade before, and it was remarkably easy. And I’m not even top 20%.”

“Uh, 4 point.... whatever. I don’t remember.” The remark reminded Alph all too painfully of walking into Decked Games at twelve years just to find out their high score had been beaten—eight times. UR. Over the next few weeks, with a month lapse stuck in the middle, each and every arcade in the city that had Flash Fire as an available game was overrun by a new winner that Alph could never catch in the act.

It was Urban, obviously. It was rare when Alph beat him on console. UR was for Urban Reichler. The kind of thing most everyone knew now from a simple search query, but four years ago was a fact known by the handful of people who either read the comics or did 100% runs. “Skill curve gets insane beyond that point.”

“We’ll see the real number when we get to your apartment anyway,” Beth jostled.

Alph threw up a hand the second the blast inched their vision, skidding across the street suddenly filled with glass and swiveling around to Beth and Camdyn. Ringing filled their ears more than their own voice, “Are you two okay?”

Beth gave a silent thumbs-up and Camdyn groaned out a thanks.

When they turned back to look at the newly-exploded building, they expected fire, just not the screaming child. “Call the cops,” Alph managed to get out before pushing off the ground back across the street to the burning building. The decision was met with barely any hesitation, Alph’s hands grabbing hold of the fire and whisking it away from themselves as they went toward the kid.

Alph could hear Camdyn protesting outside over the roaring fire.

“Hey, kid! It’s gonna all be okay, I promise you!” Alph yelled into the newly awakened pyrokinetic flame. “We’re gonna walk through this together, alright?”

next chapter | masterlist

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it's actually so jarring to see how short this is compared to the two latest chapters i've written

taglist (ask to go on or off): @lychhiker-writes, @madeoforgansandtissues, @fins0up