#i think this will be a turning point for her though

[narcjsistx]

i’ll just say sae itoshi x baby fever. just this

sae itoshi wouldn't consider himself an impatient man. everything he has built in his life, he has done with precision, talent, but above all, time. every single thing that revolves around the center of his world was built through years of sacrifice and countless sleepless nights, all for the sake of reaching that fateful final result, all for personal glory

sae is a man who knows how to control himself

yet, for weeks now, the idea of having a child has been turning him into the complete opposite of who he’s been for the past 25 years of his life, an impatient and almost whiny man

it’s impossible not to be, especially when rin just became the father of two twins, some of his teammates have become dads, and his mother, with also yours, casually brought up the topic of children at the last family dinner, few days ago

"at least three kids. i want two boys, the girl can be the youngest. though honestly, i'd be fine with all girls too"

"you make it sound like you're explaining to the cashier what you need. you’re aware that you can’t decide, right?"

"it's because it's what i need. especially after seeing your childhood photos. i need to see the house filled with young people who look just like you, or maybe me"

"you’re only saying this because your brother recently became a father. dont you want to enjoy the feeling of being an uncle?"

you had been together for years, it certainly wasn’t the first time you talked about having kids. you both agreed to have the first one at least before turning thirty, but that milestone was still five years away — way too far off for sae’s baby fever

"i just want to enjoy the feeling of someone calling me papa, someone who was born because of the person i love. is that really too much to ask?"

"that’s not the point!" you say, laughing "my god, i think this is the first time i've seen you stubborn like a child"

"think about that child. it could be ours"

you sigh, taking your boyfriend’s face in your hands: his expression seriously looks like that of a child now, with furrowed brows and determined eyes. the more you look at him, the more you wonder where the sae the rest of the world knows has gone — the sae you’ve been holding close for years. his hands wrap around your hips, pulling you closer to him as you wonder if he’s doing it just to soften your heart a little more, something he’s unfortunately succeeding at

"it would also take a lot of time and effort, it's not something you get that easily. my friend took years"

"she took years because her husband was infertile and didn’t know it. and besides, i don’t think you ever complain about how babies are made, wouldn’t you seriously mind putting in the effort? usually, you’re the needy one"

"i didn’t mean that-! my god, you’re obsessed'

"yeah, of you and the possibility of seeing you pregnant. but you hate your man so much that you don’t even want to consider my option"

you laugh at his words, kissing his forehead. admitting that you already have been for a month wouldn’t make the game any fun. you love this slightly childish, whiny, and obsessed version of him too much to tell him the truth right away

✶ beautiful dividers by @kodaswrld !!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[burgojo]

VICIOUS KISSES. GETO SUGURU / M!READER

summary. no matter what happens, no matter what he does, he will always be your one exception.

tags. smut | top reader, bratty bottom geto, doomed yaoi or something, angst, childhood friends to complicated to lovers, reader is mentioned to have siblings + come from a non-sorcerer family, mentions of canon-typical violence, wilfully ignorant domesticity with a serial mass murderer but he's in love so it cancels out, geto in a jockstrap, sex toys, they're both possessive, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, edging, teasing, multiple orgasms, reader has a huge cawk and geto has a fat ass yeehaw (they're soulmates)

wc. 11.5k (it's a chunky one)

Since you met as children, Geto Suguru has always known you to be the dependable type. An extra serving of the snack your parents bought that he loved, the neat and detailed class notes you brought to his house when he was sick in bed, stern reminders the day before tests. You were all of these things, and he knew you loved him dearly.

He wonders, staring at your pained expression behind your front door, if this would be the end of whatever unspoken thing you had between you.

His grip tightens on the hands of two little girls. They huddle close to him, wearing muddy indoor slippers in adult sizes, and silently stare up at you from behind his legs.

He killed his family. He slaughtered a whole village, not a one left standing.

You open the door wider and step aside.

—

"Hey there, Shoko."

She turns, short brown hair brushing her collar. She pops a chewed lollipop stick out from between her lips and chucks it in the bin beneath the desk, leaning back in her roller chair. "Hey yourself. What was this about an urgent appointment?"

You smile, lopsided and familiar. You rest your palms on the heads of the two girls beside you, one gripping your shirt and the other gripping your trousers. "Do you mind giving this pair a check-up with a focus on cursed energy? I was hoping to get some bloodwork done, too – just the usual, iron and such."

She nods, gesturing to the three seats by the desk. "Easy peasy. More of your siblings?"

"It seems like sorcery runs in the family now," you say, taking a seat on the furthest side and placing an arm over the back of the chair beside you. Subtly, the dark-haired one in that seat leans towards you.

"No kidding," Shoko says drily, setting up a blood pressure monitor. "That's the whole point of clans – you and these two could be enough to make your own. You two cuties must be his favourites then, huh?"

The blonde one offers a small smile. The other one watches Shoko pull the Velcro arm band open with a riiip.

"I don't play favourites," you hum. "I would do anything for my whooole family. Ohana, you know?" You squeeze their shoulders affectionately. "If I am a little sweeter on some – well, that's a secret I'll take to my grave."

Shoko glances away from her files and forms, picking up the arm band and scooting closer across the wood-patterned linoleum. "Then in that case—" she mimes zipping her lips and tossing away the key "—my lips are sealed. Could you roll up your sleeve for me, honey?"

Nanako obeys, offering her arm. Shoko wraps the band around her bicep what seems like an excessive number of times; the girls are small for their age, and you both know it.

The time passes uneventfully. The girls are unnaturally obedient – to the point that Shoko notices. You might ask one of them to do something or sit a certain way and they'll listen immediately, as if... afraid.

She thinks half-heartedly, maybe he's a shitty brother, but you frown in your gentle way at the same things Shoko does, and your voice softens right after. You comfort them while she takes their blood, and though they seem to settle, they don't act quite... right. They don't reach for you, don't seek you out for support – they sit there stiffly with their arm out, bracing themselves, and startle when you offer a hand to hold and tell them to wiggle their toes, as if abruptly remembering that you're there.

Now, Shoko doesn't want to comment or speculate on other people's family dynamics, but unfortunately for you, a pair of little girls aren't world-class actors.

She grabs your wrist before you can leave. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

You glance at the twins, who hold each other's hands and gaze back at you. "Sit here for a while, please, okay?" You point to some chairs lining the hallway outside Shoko's shiny new office. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Shoko closes the door behind you and leans against it with a soft sigh, one hand discreetly grasping the handle. She blocks the only exit, and you notice it, immediately wary.

"They aren't your sisters, are they?" she asks, shrewd as ever.

You eye her, but her features are only tired, her gaze sweeping from item to item in the room conversationally. She's not looking for a weapon – just making you feel at ease without her boring holes into your skull.

"Family isn't just by blood," you say.

"No, it isn't," she agrees. "Did you read the report, by the way? All that death for two children not big enough to see over the dashboard... Maybe I could understand – after a drink or two."

You huff a laugh, wry. "I'll shout you."

"I'll take you up on that. You're the one with the believable ID."

"Are you saying I look old, Shoko? C'mon, now. Low blow."

Her lips quirk up. "You've aged a lot over the last few months. You keep putting off sleep like you are and you'll end up looking like Palpatine."

"Unlimited power." You wave your hands in the air, then huff and chuckle, shoving your hands in your pockets. "Don't worry about me, Shoko. It'll pass. All I want is to make sure the girls will be alright once I get them on a diet of my famous cooking."

"Infamous, more like." She rolls her eyes.

"Hey, Satoru knew he couldn't handle spice. Wasn't my fault he kept going because he wanted to outdo Suguru."

You share a little laugh at the memory, though it peters out at the end. Because that's all it is – a memory, a fragment of the past which you'll never see again.

Shoko steps forward, taking your hands in hers. She squeezes them, her mouth opening and closing before she sighs and butts her head against your chest.

"Take care of them for me. All of them."

All. Not both.

You squeeze her hands in return, pressing your cheek to the top of her head. You wrap your arms around her, and in a rare show of vulnerability, she lets you – she stands there, arms by her sides, her head against your chest, and doesn't push you away.

You pull away first. You have to, or you might never leave. You pat her shoulder, offering a small, sweet smile. "Am I free to go, doc?"

She nods, glancing at the blood samples in their labelled bags. "I'll call you when the results are back."

"Alright. Thank you," you say earnestly. You pause by the door, hand on the knob. "Shoko?"

"Yeah?"

"We're keeping this between us, right?" You offer a little lopsided grin. "If you'll do the same, I won't tell anyone you let me hug you."

Brushing her hair behind her ear, Shoko sighs and grumbles. "You better not. Otherwise, I'm putting rat poison in your soup."

"Okay, okay, I promise. Jeez, woman – violence isn't the only answer."

"If it's my first choice, my problems tend to go away." Shoko waves you out. "Now go get your girls. I'm sure they're bored half to death out there."

—

Suguru's nails dig into his palms until the skin breaks and bleeds. Red trickles down his wrist from where his hands are pressed to his mouth.

"Your anger is heavy," you murmur, crouching by his feet and gently prying his hands open to press a cloth to the red crescents in his skin. You hold it there, one hand cupping his knuckles and the other pressed firm and warm against his palm. It's like you're holding hands, Suguru thinks. "You can't bear it, but you can't put it down. I understand. But this path you're on... I can't follow you. I'm sorry."

"Please." He grips your hand, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Please don't make me go this alone. You've always been there for me. Do it again just one more time."

You gaze up at him from where you are on your knees. Your living room falls somewhere between barren and cluttered – you'd moved in not too long ago, wanting your own place off of campus, but things had happened so quickly that you hadn't the time to set out all your souvenirs and potted plants neatly. Whatever's out of its box is something with a use, and as such the place looks rather sad and empty. You'll have to change that soon.

"I can't, Suguru." Your voice is soft, and it wavers. You were always the logical, rational type, the mediator when Shoko riled up the other two and then bailed when things got dicey. He hasn't seen you cry since you were children, but it's not hard to tell you're close to it, gnawing on your lower lip to keep it from trembling. "Don't ask this of me."

"Can't, or won't?" Suguru asks sharply, meeting your eyes. His voice begins to rise. "Why? Why do you say you understand but refuse to come with me? If you understood, it'd be an easy damn decision. It's not fair!"

"You're not fucking fair, Suguru!" You match the vitriol in his voice. "Asking me to choose between you and everyone else I love? You're like a toxic girlfriend giving me an ultimatum. That's real fucking shitty of you."

He tugs his hand out of yours, though the immediate cold without them almost makes him backtrack. Stubborn as he is, though, he continues, mopping up the remaining blood himself and folding the cloth several times around his hand. It's something to do so he doesn't have to bear the brunt of your disappointed gaze.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back against the couch. You stand and move into the kitchen, silent as a ghost as you wash your hands and prepare tea from the boiled kettle.

Playing with the edges of the cloth you'd given him, Suguru glances at the clock. Nine at night. Still technically early, but exhaustion drags him down like cinderblocks. The girls are asleep in the bed you made for them, big enough to hold them both and still have room left over because they didn't like to sleep alone.

His sight begins to blur. It's like seeing a curse for the first time all over again, but this time he doesn't have you to fall back on when things got scary. How childish it is, to cry over a boy.

"Suguru." You place a steaming cup in front of him on the coffee table. "I hope you don't hate me." You hold your own over your lap, your index finger tracing the rim of the cup. Occasionally, you cut through the steam, watching the pale wisps tear in half.

"I should be the one saying that, shouldn't I?" he whispers, leaning forward and reaching for his cup of tea. He lifts it to his lips and the couch creaks under his shifted weight. He huffs, a mirthless chuckle. "You're in the presence of a criminal."

"Right. The guys in the big hats don't like you anymore." You sigh, leaning back and tipping your head to stare at the ceiling. "For what it's worth... I meant it when I said I understand. I get where you're coming from. I just think you're doing it wrong."

"Then why won't you come with me? Help me make things right?"

"In your absence, I have to take care of Satoru – make sure he doesn't go ballistic." You chuckle just thinking about it. "It's so obvious the guy's never had friends his age before. Knows nothing about emotional regulation, either. At least Shoko can talk about it, but Satoru? No, no. Just clams up and gets overly bitchy until I drop it. I'd like to think I'm making headway with him, though."

Suguru swirls his cup of tea, staring into it. "Why is that always your job? Always our peacemaker, our middleman, our damn therapist... Someone should pay you for it. At least that'll mean getting some colour in this place."

"Suguru."

He glances over at you. You lean into him, resting a warm hand on his shoulder. You're beautiful, even like this, but this is the first time where, despite your closeness, Suguru feels as if you're on the other side of a glass wall like a museum piece. That wall is there for your protection.

"You grieve," you observe. "Why?"

Playing right into his words, it seems. Suguru chuckles slightly, cupping his mug and raising it to his lips. "You know why. Even if we met up like this every single day for the rest of our lives, it'd never be the same. I'm mourning what we had. I really wish you'd choose to be with me, but, well. C'est la vie."

"You could force me to," you say nonchalantly, sipping your tea and folding your legs like a prince at a boring meeting. "I don't think I could bring myself to hurt you."

"And make you despise me?" he scoffs. "No, thanks. Pretty sure Satoru already does, and my social circle's become frighteningly small. More of a dot, really. A pinhead."

Your gaze softens and you reach out, brushing the back of your knuckles against his cheek and down his jaw with a wistful sweetness. He leans into it, gaze flickering up to you.

Suddenly, his lower lip quivers and he closes his eyes and cups your hand, pulling it into himself. He kisses your palm and strokes your wrist, gripping you tight to keep you there – as if you'll pull away if he doesn't. But why would you? You reached for him to begin with.

"When we die, I want to go first," he whispers. "Promise me that."

Your heart stops.

You stare at him unblinkingly. Then, you put down your cup, doing the same for his, and pull Suguru tight into your arms. He curls up under your chin, fisting the back of your shirt as he commits the warmth of your bulk and the smell of your cologne to memory.

If only he were cruel enough to steal you away – bruised and battered so nobody could blame you – to have you all to himself. If only you didn't love him so wholly and instead alerted the elders when he first stumbled to you, the blood still fresh across his cheeks.

You don't want to think about your failings. You bury your nose in his hair, his milk and honey shampoo making the bile churn in your stomach, and hold him tighter. "I promise."

—

You come when Suguru calls. You always do.

"Hello, darling," he hums, rising from behind his big mahogany desk. He pushes a pile of folders into a drawer and rounds the desk to meet you, his long dark robes swaying around his ankles. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How are the girls?"

"It's been two weeks, so that depends on your definition of 'a while'. They're doing alright," you reply, letting him drape his arms over your shoulders. "I keep telling them to make friends, but apparently all of the girls in their new class are mean and cliquey. At least they like their teachers and subjects."

"That's good to hear," Suguru murmurs, tracing your collarbone with his fingertip absently. "I'll visit soon. When are you free?"

Satoru leaves for an overseas mission in the weekend, meaning there's no chance of him popping in without warning. Well, less of a chance, at least. "In two days. The girls want to go out for shopping and dinner on their own – but they've promised to leave their locations on, won't stray off the main roads, and won't follow strangers into white vans, so they'll be fine."

"You sound so sure about that. You're going to follow them, aren't you?"

"Now, see, that's where you would be right," you begin, "if we had this conversation a few days ago. But after they scolded me for being overly anxious when they're perfectly capable young sorcerers, I've decided to use that day for a date."

"A date?" He tilts his head inquisitively. "What sort?"

"I know how busy you are, so I didn't want to waste too much of your time," you admit with an embarrassed smile, pulling him in by the waist. "Therefore: dinner date, whipped up by yours truly. Two-in-one."

Suguru grins, stepping up on his zori to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I don't suppose you'll leak what's on the menu?"

"Well, I don't know what you're paying yet."

He scoffs, placing a hand over his heart. "Making me pay? Bad with our monthly budgeting, are we?"

"Not bad, just generous. When Nanako says she wants that fluffy cardigan, I can't say no. If Mimiko finds a cute pair of shoes, I say, 'do a little spin'."

Suguru can't help the fondness that trickles into his voice. He's supposed to be stern right now. "So, yes, bad budgeting and a weak will. Fine – name your price."

You pretend to think. "Well... I could do with a little this," you brush your thumb over his soft lips, "and a lot of this." You squeeze his ass beneath his monk's robes. His breath hitches, body jerking into yours, and you smile as you peck his cheek chastely. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replies, too quick and breathy for someone playing bad cop. "I can afford that."

When Suguru arrives on a fine and sunny Saturday, you can't help the painful little twinge that pings at your heartstrings. Seeing him in front of your door, long hair silky black and lips dabbed with a light gloss... you almost cave.

Take me with you. God, just take me with you.

He stays with you when he can, but when he does, it's dangerous. The moment they find out you're playing house with the worst curse user of them all, you'll be branded with the same iron, and your girls – god, your girls – will have all normalcy stripped from their lives. You couldn't let them lose their family twice.

"Good afternoon," he greets sweetly, hands bundled within his robe sleeves. "I hope I'm not too early."

"No, not at all." You find your voice and let him in. You've gotten exceptionally good at playing at light-hearted domesticity. He steps out of his zori and into his slippers by the door. "Early finish today?"

He chuckles, turning and pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Yes. I rushed my last few visitors so I could spend more time with you."

"Suguru..."

"Oh, don't look at me like that. If you could see yourself from my eyes, you'd understand why I'm so eager." He knocks your chin gently, playfully, as your cheeks warm, and he flutters deeper into your apartment like he has so many times before. "Do you need any help in the kitchen?"

"I, uh – no, you take it easy. I just need ten minutes before I start plating things up."

"My prince charming," he teases, fingers gliding along the edge of the dining table. It seats six and fits just fine in the apartment, thanks to the not-insignificant salary you're paid as a full-time sorcerer. A bottle of wine sits in the middle next to two glasses. "Well, I'll borrow your shower, then. Rinse off the grime of the day."

"Take your time. Use all the hot water you like."

"Is that a challenge?"

"You can't do worse than the twins and their bubble baths."

"Challenge accepted." He steps into the hallway. "I'm going to try some of their fancy skincare products."

The sink and most of the bathroom cupboards and shelves are overrun with the various makeup products and skincare kits they've tried over the years. Lucky you gets a single top shelf, which they can't reach without dragging a stool into the bathroom, and which they graciously offered for your shaving cream and razor. Obviously, you're their favourite.

You busy yourself with setting the table, the plated filet mignon looking straight out of a cookbook. You're pleased with the results. You pick a few subtle candles and snap your fingers – with a precise pop of cursed energy, the candles light aflame.

You turn down the ceiling lights and observe your handiwork, proud of what you've accomplished. You nod to yourself.

Warm arms wrap around your middle. Suguru presses his lips to your neck. "Hello. I feel a little underdressed for the occasion."

You turn, and your eyes widen slightly. Despite having his own full wardrobe, he's dressed in your clothes: boxy t-shirt, grey sweatpants. You're not much better in jeans. "Um – I – wow."

Suguru lifts an eyebrow, stepping in front of you with a teasing smile. His skin is slightly glossy, plump with whatever moisturiser he'd stolen and patted on. "Is it because of the hair? You're so easy to impress, baby. It's almost embarrassing."

"You're in my clothes," you huff, pressing the backs of your hands to your hot cheeks. "That's cheating. You look great."

He grins, taking your chin and tilting your head towards him to land a kiss on your lips. He's affectionate today. "Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. "Now come sit down. I'm starving."

You dart in before he can pull out his chair and do it for him. He giggles softly and accepts, fingertips brushing your chest as he does. He flips his low ponytail over his shoulder and gazes at you with half-lidded eyes as you take a seat opposite him.

"So," he purrs, leaning forward and linking his fingers, "what are you presenting to us today, chef?"

"Filet mignon with butter and rosemary," you list off, popping the wine cork. "Next is a potato and leek soup, and butterscotch pudding for dessert. Not too sweet, just as you like it. Um – that's it."

Suguru laughs like you've said a great joke as you pour him a glass of wine. "And you made that all yourself? I'm so lucky." He hums. "Did you really use nothing else for this steak? It looks and smells divine."

"Salt, pepper, olive oil. I was supposed to add garlic, but Nanako decided she would use it without telling me and I was already searing the meat when I realised," you sigh, then smile sheepishly. "Forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive, darling, don't be silly," Suguru chuckles, turning his plate slowly to really enjoy your creation. Perfectly juicy, done to perfection just how he likes it. "You could put this in a magazine."

"A-Ah, it's just a steak, nothing too fancy. Please, eat. I didn't make it just for you to stare at it."

"You're so cute when you get shy. I love it," Suguru purrs, though he picks up his knife and fork and begins to slice into the steak. "Take the compliment, darling. You should be used to it by now."

Your face is on fire. "Okay..."

Smile widening playfully, Suguru leans over and cuts a bite-sized piece off of your steak. He lifts it to your lips, giggling when you almost flinch. "Where'd all your confidence go? Wasn't too long ago you were copping a feel and laughing when I hit you. Emotional intimacy too hard for you, hm?"

"No, it's not. I literally set up a candlelit dinner for us." You glare at him without any heat, leaning forward and accepting the bite he offers. He laughs at the sight of you, chewing and glaring at the same time at him like a huffy child.

"Alright... So you like being praised? You've been a good boy for me," he teases, eyes crinkling when you bang your knees against the underside of the table. The candles flicker. He covers his mouth while he laughs, loud and bright. "Baby!"

Hastily, you smooth your palms down your jeans and fix your shirt, grabbing the utensils and digging into your meal with more gusto than necessary. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Let's eat and we can watch a movie and cuddle. Good plan."

Suguru beams, unable to hide his shaking shoulders even as he presses the back of his hand to his mouth and sits back in his chair. He shakes his head, his heart so full it might burst.

If only he could have this every night, he thinks wistfully, meeting your eyes from under his lashes. He smiles behind his wine glass, savouring the rich taste of the meal you've made for him. No fears of poison, no worries about someone who might be watching. It's just you and him in your shared home, dressed far too casually for a three-course meal, smiling and sneaking glances at each other like you're on your first date. He'll carry these memories forever, like a soldier tucking a perfume-scented letter from his darling by his heart.

The two of you aren't much better during clean-up, either. You wash, he dries, and he exploits your inability to move by bumping your hip with his every time he passes behind you, teasing the front of his sweatpants against your thigh. When he's caught up on drying everything, he rests his cheek against your shoulder blades, his eyes closed and his hands on your waist. He hums softly and leans up to kiss the nape of your neck, a feathery little thing that makes goosebumps ripple down your arms.

"You really have to stand so close?" you say drily, though your eyes twinkle. "I'm scared I'm going to elbow you."

"Don't worry," he sighs gently, slipping his hands beneath your shirt. One pushes your waistband down just enough to reveal a sliver of your Apollo's belt, and the other traces the bone back and forth. "I'm a big boy. I can handle a little pain."

Your gaze snaps back and he meets your eyes, his grin sharp and satisfied. He tilts his head. "Something the matter, darling? Do you disagree?"

You huff, turning back to the dishes in the sink. There are only a few left. "You're such a tease."

"Mm, you like that."

"Not when I'm trying to do important things – like not dropping our pots and plates."

He taps his lips, pouting softly as he ponders your statement. "That's true. You might chip our tiles."

His hands are no longer dipping into your jeans. You can breathe again. "That's right, Suguru. You wouldn't want to ruin our home, right?"

"Ruin our home? No. But ruin you? Yes." With a titter, he kisses your neck, peeling himself from your back to stand by your side. He leans against your arm, watching as you rinse off a pan and place it on the dishrack. "Once we're done, I've got something to show you."

"Is it a dinosaur?" you ask playfully, and his smile widens, fond, as he reaches for the pan. He glides the towel over the handle before lifting it.

"Better than a dinosaur, if you can believe it," he replies, nudging your shoulder with his and gazing at you with soft, sweet eyes. "I think so, anyway."

"That's a pretty high bar. Now I'm curious. Can't you show me now?"

"Definitely not," Suguru laughs, setting the pan in a drawer behind you. "Hurry up. The quicker you're done, the quicker I'll show you."

You obey. After you wash your hands in the kitchen, Suguru emerges from the bathroom with his hair down. It's almost waist-length these days, thick and glossy. Replacing the plain hair tie from earlier is a silver clip at the back of his head.

You lean against the kitchen counter and wolf-whistle, crossing your arms with a lopsided grin. "Hair down? Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this, aren't I?"

Suguru smiles as he approaches, pretty feline features coy and playful. "One day I'm going to cut it all off and that'll be your surprise."

You pout, wrapping him in an arm as he notches himself against you. You run a hand through the loose silky locks reverently. "Nooo... I think I'd actually cry."

He rolls his eyes, placing a kiss on your lips. "Crybaby. You just like it long because you can pull on it during sex."

"And you look like a gorgeous princess with it."

He gives you a look.

"What?" you say defensively. "I can have two opinions at once."

He presses a finger to his lips, playing at disappointment. He looks away, casting his eyes high over your head. "You know, I did have a heavy workload today, and I could do with some sleep... Maybe I'll show you your present next time."

"Wait!" You grab his waist and tug him back towards you, caging him in against the kitchen counter in your desperation. He squeaks and laughs, eyes crinkling as he grasps your forearm loosely. "What do I have to do to make you show it to me? You said it was a present. You know I love your presents."

"Well..." he begins thoughtfully. "You could kiss me."

You plant a kiss on his lips, and one on his cheek for good measure.

"You could tell me that you love me."

"I love you."

"With more feeling."

"I love you so much that when I see you without your clothes on, I want to throw myself off a cliff."

He barks a laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is that all you love me for? My body?"

"I love you so much that when I wake up next to you and realise I'm the lucky one you chose to hold you in their arms, I want to throw myself off a cliff."

He coos, turning in your arms to face you and cupping the back of your neck. He gazes up at you through his dark lashes. "No throwing ourselves off of cliffs," he murmurs, stroking your cheek. "You'd be leaving me all alone, wouldn't you?"

Your expression softens and you lean into his touch, cupping the back of his hand. "I won't," you say. "Not ever."

You keep your promises.

"Good," says Suguru, and tilts his face up to kiss you deeply.

His breath hitches as your teeth nick his lower lip, and you lick gently at the tender skin in apology. His lips are warm and plump, bitter but sweet with the lingering taste of red wine. He plays with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, not so much guiding as pulling you in for a deeper kiss – the way he likes it. He lets it linger, soft and kind.

"You're dangerous, you know," he whispers, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "Spoiling me like this, cooking for me... It's nice."

You squeeze his hips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Really nice." He sighs softly, linking his fingers at the nape of your neck. His palms are warm, the calluses soft with moisturiser. It's almost enough to forget about them. "I wish I could do more for you. Take you places."

You just hum quietly, stroking his hips with your thumbs with an unreadable expression. He notices it. He didn't mean to sour your mood. He knows it in the way you refuse to look him in the eye.

At least you've accepted the fact that he won't come back. That he can't come back. You have stopped asking him to leave his grand ideals behind.

But that's okay. Suguru can have both. He'll make it so.

Suguru takes one of your hands and guides it downwards, letting it cup his ass. A distraction, perhaps, but you let yourself fall for it anyway. He leans up to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling away to turn around and push down his sweatpants, tugging the waistband below the generous curve of his ass. He hears your breath catch and a pleased smile crosses his face.

"Like it?" he asks, collecting his hair and brushing it over his shoulder. The silver hair clip shines under the kitchen lights. "It's new."

He arches his spine, widening his knees slightly and bracing against the stone kitchen counter as he rocks back into your bulge. His smile grows catlike, marked by coyness and secrecy.

You palm his hips – the strappy black jocks cup his ass and thighs perfectly. It leaves his asshole wonderfully accessible, and you have to steady yourself by gripping him tighter when you spot the purple gemstone peeking out between his cheeks.

You spread him wider, swallowing roughly at the sight of a silver plug nestled in his plump ass. He chuckles softly, nibbling on his lower lip to hide his smile, as you play with it, gently pressing it in and out as if testing him. Just for you, he lets out a teasing, feathery moan, pushing back into your touch, though the gasp he lets out when you tug it free from his hole is a little more real – a little more embarrassing.

"I'm guessing you like your surprise," he says, smile widening as you pull him up to slip off his oversized t-shirt. You toss both things onto the nearest bar stool and Suguru steps out of his sweatpants with a flirty little sway of his hips, emphasising the curve of his waist and hips. He laughs when you pepper grateful kisses along his neck and jawline, his dark eyes crinkling as you pull him back towards you, not letting him squirm away.

"Oh, you have no idea," you breathe, smiling against his skin at the sound of his laughter rumbling through his chest. Meat and blood, flesh and bone. So very human. How could anyone blame you for loving him?

"This is in the way," he murmurs, tugging the hem of your shirt. You allow him to pull it off you and it joins the pile of clothes on the bar stool. He sighs at the sight before him, palms running warm and soft down your chest and stomach, tracing every curve and dip of muscle, scarred or not. His cock twitches in his jocks.

Your hands move towards your belt, thumbs hooking into your waistband, but Suguru, with an impatient look on his face, shakes his head. He smacks your hands away, ignoring your huff, and expertly undoes your belt and zipper, pulling the sides open just enough to fish you out of your underwear.

He's playful with it – glossy lips parting into a theatrical 'O', measuring the size of your girth with a thumb and forefinger and getting all moony because it's bigger than his own, even just half-chubbed. You roll your eyes through the heat in your cheeks, burying your face in his shoulder. He tilts his head to give your teeth better access to his soft, unmarred neck.

"You've got such a pretty cock," he hums, gasping softly as you nip and suck bruises into his skin. One of your hands ventures down from his hip to cup his bulge, warm and hardening by the second. "I – ah, I want it in me. Now."

The demand almost quivers – something like hesitation makes his gaze flutter away briefly. You meet his eyes with silence and a raised brow. Then he doubles down, rubbing his cock against your palm, and he moans as you squeeze roughly, the cloth cup of his jocks growing wet and slick on the inside.

"Need you to fuck me right now," he puffs, pulling you against him by your fucking cock. You grunt, eyes narrowing reflexively into a glare, but he doesn't back off, meeting your gaze unabashedly. You press your thumb into where you know his tip is, and he has the audacity to moan sweetly because of it. He smooths his palm over your cockhead, smearing precome down your shaft with every quick stroke. "Yeah, keep glaring, darling. I know you want this, too."

"Right here?" you hiss, as if it's a secret. "Do you know how unhygienic—"

"Oh my god," he groans, head tilting back briefly, "as if that fucking matters. Cursed energy, wet wipes and a black light – we have options. It'll be fine, worrywart. Don't you have a sense of adventure?"

"I get too much adventure with you," you sigh. His hand feels really good around you, twisting and rubbing in all the right ways, and the warm front of his jocks are growing damp, sticking to his skin. He ruts into your palm, eyes hungry with a sly smile flitting across his features. He rolls his hips the way he does when he rides you, and you let out a gruff moan, shoving your thigh between his legs. He grasps your shoulder for balance. "You're disgusting sometimes, Suguru."

You watch his tan skin flush, high on his cheekbones, as the rough texture of your jeans scratches and rubs his clothed cock. You can feel the heat of him through the denim.

He smiles, airy, and dips his thumb into the slit of your tip. It widens when your hips jerk into the wet ring of his hand. "Am I? Maybe you should fuck me at the temple. Sometimes I miss you and think about you in my office," he breathes, his hard cock poking out of his jocks, up along his hip. The tip is a lovely dusky colour, shiny and slick. "I wonder how you'd fuck me over my desk, make me tip over all my pens, or if you'd sit beneath it and suck me off." His eyes glitter as he runs a thumb over your lower lip, staring at them and biting his lip as if he's imagining it right then. Your cock throbs in his grasp. "Maybe both, if I'm missing you particularly hard."

"Suguru," you hiss between your teeth.

He has the gall to look surprised, to look innocent, to tilt his head in the way that makes his bangs frame his face so well. "What? You don't miss me while you're at work, too?"

You shove your hands into his underwear, wrapping your fingers around his pretty cock. He gasps, eyes widening slightly at the heat that shocks up his spine, and his grip loosens slightly around your length. You wrap your hand around his, reminding him, and he hurriedly returns to his previous pace, a little more haphazard now.

"Don't say things like that," you murmur, jerking him off as you press him into the kitchen counter, leaving him nowhere to run – not that he'd ever want to. You click your tongue. "Damn it. Now I can't stop thinking about how you'd look all fucked out in your robes, with your skirts pulled up around your hips and your legs around my waist – shit, Suguru, the things you do to me..."

He almost whines, but manages to backtrack it into a breathy moan at the last second. He tries to buck up into your hand but you press him back down, your fingers wrapped stubbornly around his tip – and only his tip. Your strokes are quick and shallow.

He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, his ass clenching around nothing. Without the plug, he feels so terribly empty, his hole leaking excess lube down his taint so nasty-dirty-good. Your precome leaks down his palm and wrist in clear rivulets, and the slick sticky sound is enough to make the arousal bubbling in his stomach grow dangerously close to popping. He presses the curve of his nose against your throat like some possessive animal, drowning himself in your scent – clean, light, slightly sweet. Like fresh linens that he falls into at the end of a tiring journey.

"S-Sorry," he gasps, chuckling when he can between pants. He nips a hickey below your ear, far too high to hide with a collar, and hums, pleased, at the sight. "It's also not a skirt."

"Well, fuck me for not knowing."

"What do you think I'm doing?" He squeezes your cock, nails dragging lightly against the veins. He moans as you press deeper into his space, chests pressed together like you're trying to get inside his skin. You let go of his cock and spread his cheek with one hand, the other dipping into his slick hole. It's warm, swollen already from his prep. "Hey. Hands off the merchandise, darling."

Your eyes narrow as he slaps your hand away, handling you like a misbehaving child. He puts your hand back around his cock, guiding your hand up and down at a pace he likes. You mutter, "By that measure, I shouldn't be allowed to do this, either. It's merchandise, too, right?"

You flick your wrist roughly, tugging his cock back and forth. His hips jerk forward, a sweet whimper spilling from his lips, and he glances up at you, eyes half-lidded and hungry. You tilt your head briefly, smug and mocking.

Suguru pouts slightly, still looking up at you through his dark lashes. He knows he looks good, baring his neck and flicking his silky hair over his shoulder to make his neck seem even longer, elegant and swanlike. "Careful. Annoy me too much and you won't get off tonight."

"And how are you going to enforce that? Will you cut off my hands – the hands you seem to love so much?" you taunt, stroking him faster. He moans freely, fucking into your fist.

"If I need to. Hm, fuck—" He inhales sharply, his cock twitching fiercely in the hot, sticky tunnel of your hand. "Fingers. Put your fingers in me – quickly."

Despite his uncharacteristic lack of manners, you obey, swapping your hand from his cock to his ass. He moans in relief, one leg naturally hiking up the outside of your thigh. He hooks an arm around your shoulders, nails digging into your skin for balance.

"Thought you said I wasn't allowed to touch you," you murmur. "Changed your mind that fast?"

"Remember, it's a privilege I can rescind."

His ass is warm and slick, his walls impossibly soft, and he clenches hungrily around your two fingers, taking them in to the knuckle with ease. His hole squelches quietly, lube making things wet and easy. He spends his time gazing at you, memorising your features, those dark eyes and long lashes fluttering as you push your fingers deeper, making him arch flush against you with a keening whine. His cock throbs against your thigh, rubbing your hip.

"Another," he whispers, grinding back into your palm. "I can take another, baby."

Slipping a third finger in offers the first taste of resistance. He is tight, his walls fluttering around you. His eyes squeeze shut and his nails dig into your bicep as he grips you for stability.

"Too quick?" you ask, watching him carefully.

Immediately, he shakes his head, opening his eyes and tipping his head back. His eyes flick from the ceiling to you, and he attempts a smile. "No. No, don't stop. I can handle it."

"Are you sure? I can grab more lube—"

"You'll do no such thing," he snaps, grabbing your wrist to keep you from pulling out of him. His eyes are narrowed, intense. "I've been dreaming about your cock all week, and if you make me wait even a second longer, I will actually electrocute you."

You suck in a breath between your teeth, gently thrusting your fingers in and out of him until he's reassured that you're not running away. "Okay, okay... Sorry for trying to be nice to you, Suguru. I wanted you to be able to walk straight in the morning."

"I don't want to walk straight tomorrow." He's starting to relax around your fingers, and his expression isn't so tight anymore. "I want you to make me ache, baby. I want to press on your bruises when I shower, want to get annoyed because you always put your hickeys far too high on my neck. If I can't have your cock every night, I want to be reminded of it every day – until I can get what I really want all over again."

He continues, tracing shapes into your shoulder: "Cycles, circles, Ouroboros. You're the one beautiful habit I never want to break. Funny, isn't it? That I remember your love through pain."

Suguru takes your silence as acceptance. He pats your arm and you gently slide your fingers out of him. He turns around and aligns your thick, glossy cockhead with his hole. He lowers himself carefully, letting out a low moan as it breaches his hole and sinks inside, inch by excruciating inch.

"Fuck," he hisses, lifting his hips higher. "Fuck, I – hnn. You're always so fucking thick."

"Sorry."

"You're not." His hole clamps around you as he rocks shallowly back and forth, spreading his knees slightly wider to accommodate. "Don't lie, or I'll have to punish you, you know."

"Punish me? Really?" You hum, resting your hands on his hips and allowing him to adjust at his own pace. "How would you do that?"

"Oh, I can think of all sorts of things," he replies breezily, taking a slow breath in. He pushes back against you, harder, and manages another couple of inches – the sight's heavenly, watching your cock slowly vanish into your beautiful Suguru. Your beautiful husband, in another life. He always seemed suited to the picket-fence life.

The squeeze is almost unbearable. If you look down at the skin-to-skin join between your bodies, watch him gradually take inch by inch until you're settled nice and deep in his tummy, you might come early. His soft, ample ass seems almost at odds with the rest of him – broad, tall, elegantly lean in that historical-romance way. You press your fingers into the meat of his ass and the amount of give that dips in is almost obscene.

The jock strap digging into his thighs doesn't help your case. Your cock throbs and you can feel every ridge of him, every vein of your dick scraping against his slick, hot walls.

With his ass pressed flush against your hips, Suguru glances over his shoulder, eyes lidded and smile halfway to drunk. His cheeks are pink, and he arches his back further, as if to entice you.

"Look at me, baby," he pants, palms pressed against the counter. "See how deep you are inside me? See how you ruin me?"

You place your hands on the shelf of his hips – gentle, caressing. With a thumb, you spread his ass, revealing his puffy hole wrapped tight around your cock. It clenches as you stare, like it's winking at you, and Suguru leans down against the kitchen counter and pushes his ass up, trying to take more of your length.

"You're beautiful," you murmur, voice soft and reverent like a prayer. You stroke his thigh up his hip, his waist, across the smooth expanse of his back. He shivers under your touch, arching into it. "I don't want to ruin beautiful things."

"Well, this beautiful thing is asking you to," he says, peering over his shoulder at you with a flippant smile. "Demanding, actually. So get on with it."

You tease him with a slow rocking of your hips, gliding against his swollen prostate with each thrust. "Whatever you want."

A displeased downward turn of his mouth has you swallowing a laugh. He stares at you, brows furrowed, and grabs your hip, attempting to set the pace himself – you don't let him, pushing him forward until he's flush with the counter, the edge digging into his bulge painfully. He winces, a throb of pleasure running up his spine.

"Not like that," Suguru breathes, a frustrated pout gracing his lips. "Harder."

"What if I wanted to take care of you, make you feel good?"

"You'll take care of me by fucking me harder," he orders, and his eyes glint with a challenge. "Remember, this is a present. I can take it back."

"Yeah? Then what'll you do? Go hide in our bathroom and fuck yourself with your modest little toys, maybe two at a time because they're not big enough to stretch you like I can?" you taunt, abruptly snapping your hips forward. He gasps and moans, nodding breathlessly as he clamps around you.

"You can sit between my legs, if you want," he huffs, grinning at the irritated click of the tongue he receives. "Or maybe I'll tie you down. I like it when you watch."

"Brat," you mutter, yanking his hips against yours with a wet slap. He jerks and moans, soft and feathery. He shakes his hair out over his shoulder as a velvet waterfall, watching you slyly from the corner of his eye.

He's too pretty for his own good. He knows you melt when it comes to him, and now he's using it against you, giving you sweet puppy eyes and arching his spine adorably hopefully.

"If you don't tease, I won't either," he promises, rolling his hips. He blinks back at you, his seductive half-bitten smile turning as sweet as strawberry clouds as you nibble at the crook of his shoulder. He shivers and curls up with a soft giggle, ticklish. His eyes crinkle. "Baby..."

"Mm, Suguru?" You sweep his hair to one side, nipping and sucking at his soft skin. As usual, you pepper your love bites far too high – he'll be tucking his hair forward for days. At least it'll be easy to press on the bruises with a subtle hand raise, letting him relive the pleasure of receiving them – the heat of your breath, the sound of your groans – whenever his mind starts to wander.

"I'm trying to be sexy. Don't make me laugh," he whispers, looping his arm loosely around the back of your neck and twisting his fingers in your hair.

Lazily, you thrust deep into him, tip to root, making his breath catch in his throat. The veins of your cock drag against his impossibly soft, warm walls – his insides ripple around you and he shudders, tightening further and pulling a groan from deep within your chest.

"What do you mean? You're sexy when you laugh," you object, your fingers gliding over his bulge, the cloth damp and hot. His hips jolt as you hook a finger into them and tug them down, freeing his wet, twitching length. "Don't you think so?"

He gasps sharply as your touch glides over his tip and your index finger rubs his leaky slit. His hole clamps around you. "I—fuck..."

You keep your pace unhurried, uneven, and mouth at the red bruises blooming across his skin. He's warm and pliant in your arms despite his earlier bravado – you smooth your thumb across the base of his neck, soothing and possessive all at once. He gnaws on his lower lip to suppress a whine – it was too early for that. He wasn't one to be ruined so easily, and he was determined to make you work for it.

"I love you," you murmur, tilting his face towards you and landing a kiss under his pierced ear. "So answer me, Suguru. If you don't, I'll finish with my hand and leave you to the toys you seem to like so much. Is that what you want, angel?"

He nearly bites straight through his lip. The pet name is so terrifyingly domestic, so affectionate, something he can imagine you saying when he greets you after work at the front door. He'd wear an apron and a sweater, soup bubbling on the stove, and you'd kiss him breathless as if you hadn't seen him just that morning. He licks his lips and his head twitches 'no' – barely there, embarrassed at his own fantasies.

"I..." He lets out a shaky breath as your cock throbs, hot and thick, in his deepest parts. "That wouldn't be so bad. At least I'd actually be able to come."

He grins then, breathless and playful, and there's an edge in his gaze as sharp as a blade. Your grip tightens on his hips. "Is that right?"

Suguru hums in assent, sighing in pleasure as you tease him with the pace he wants – just a few moments of it and he's already achingly hard, his cock arcing up towards his stomach. "Or I could... head down to the nearest bar. Find some more obedient company."

Behind him, you go deathly still, and he knows he's got you hook, line, and sinker.

"No."

"No?"

"No," you repeat, firmer, leaning into his warmth and burying your face in his shoulder. Cursed energy swirls beneath his skin, dancing between his cells with a tangy sweetness that fills your skull like a heavy, rich cologne. Your arms tighten around him. "You're mine, Suguru. You've always been mine." You kiss a darker hickey on his neck and he shudders at the twinge of pain that electrifies his spine. He grips your wrist, fingers fluttering nervously over the bones and tendons. "You want a reminder? Well, anything for my angel."

You press him into the countertop and snap your hips forward, skin clapping with the impact. He gasps, jolting forward, and when his mouth opens – to talk back or demand a kiss – all that tumbles out is a shaky, whiny moan.

You keep the pace deep and rough, hands sliding down his toned chest and stomach to rest on the shelf of his hips – two dainty handholds just made for you to drag him back on your cock, to keep him with you. His hair bounces, strands slowly coming loose to frame his blown-out pupils and dark, sinful blush. He flicks his head to toss it over his shoulder and gazes back at you, pink lips glossy and parted into a perfect 'O'. He reaches for your hand, cupping your knuckles – it's like you're holding hands – and grins, biting back cries that come out instead as short, ragged gasps.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, w-was it?" he moans, body jerking and weight shifting forward. He compensates by balancing on the balls of his feet, and it arches his back in a gorgeously tempting way. His cock digs into the edge of the counter and his expression tightens, a choked whimper escaping through his teeth. His nails dig into the cool white stone. "A-All it took – hah – was a little jealousy."

The thick head of your cock crushes his swollen, sensitive prostate. A tremor wracks his body as liquid fire rushes through his dick, making him yelp like a wounded little bunny. Traitor that it is, his cock throbs and leaks faster, precome shining messily on his firm stomach.

"I'd say possessive, not jealous," you respond, watching his tight hole swallow your whole length with pornographic ease. He's impossibly warm and soft, gummy insides tender and uber-sensitive from sitting on the plug for so long. It makes you wonder. All that squirming during dinner – was he fantasising about how you'd fuck him? Wishing the weight of the plug was from your cock instead? "Jealousy implies a desire for something I don't have. But I do have you – I have you all spread out and eager for me, eager for a cock too big to fit in you."

You emphasise your point with a pointed thrust, crushing your hips against his ass and making him choke. His hand flies down to his stomach, pressing on the smooth bump gliding against his walls. His thighs tremble. "You belong to me. The outside—" you kiss his hickeys "—and the inside—" you cup the bulge in his stomach "—is all mine."

Suguru shivers despite the heat burning beneath his skin. He gasps out your name, his heart stuttering as you press a chaste but lingering kiss to the nape of his neck. All of this – it's the same song and dance he plays out when he's haunted by what could have been, his side empty and cold where you should be. Perhaps it comforts him to have control – to know that within these four walls, you would do anything for him.

He's made peace with your choice to stay, but that doesn't mean he loves it. When he was younger, he was bitter. Didn't want to see you. It reminded him of who you'd chosen over him – people like Satoru, who hadn't known you for half as long as he did, nor as deeply. Your experiences were his experiences, and naively, he'd believed that you'd spend your whole lives doing just that: sharing, being together. He thought it was pathetic how shattered he was when you broke that dream.

Now, though – older, a little bit wiser – he appreciates the rest of it that much more. Despite your unwavering loyalties, your strongest beliefs, you made him your only exception – someone you couldn't live without, even if it risked the loss of everything you'd worked to keep.

You'd be exiled. Hunted down. Slaughtered like a feral dog. And still, you reached for him. That meant something.

As you pick up the pace, hips smacking against Suguru's plump ass, so do his pretty sounds. His sighs turn into sharp, drawled moans, punched-out while his mouth falls open, your pace making it hard to breathe. His nails dig into the stone counter top.

"Yes," he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. "Yes. My holes are the only ones you're allowed to fuck. They're yours. I'm yours. I only want you."

It's almost sweet. His voice is soft with gasps and sighs, his usual purring tone sharpened with pleasure. He's behaving now, so you'll let him have what he wants. You slide a finger beneath the strap of his jocks, gliding against his smooth skin, and snap it back against him – his breath hitches and his hole clamps tightly around you. You groan, deep and hungry, at the feeling. He shivers against your chest, his skin prickling with gooseflesh.

"Mm... I never tire of hearing that," you huff against the hickeys on his neck. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes obscenely in your apartment and Suguru's heart knocks up a little bit higher on each thrust, each breath coming shorter and sharper than the last. You grab his arms and twist them behind his back – he stumbles slightly, stomach pressing flat against the cool countertop, and his body seizes at the cold shock. You let out another low rumble, the sound rolling pleasingly into Suguru's warm, sticky skin.

Your grip tightens on his wrists and his slender fingers flex, his index finger brushing against the side of your wrist in the ghost of a hand-hold. He chokes on a cry as you snap your hips into his ass, rough and starved. His knees buckle and you tut softly as you yank him back up and set him on the counter again, burying his weeping cock beneath his own weight. He whimpers softly and tries to lift his hips to alleviate the discomfort, but all that does is slam your cock directly into his soft swollen prostate, forcing it even deeper than before.

He comes.

The world goes white. The pressure of his arms pinned back. His cheek pressed to the hard countertop. The cold stone slick with his hot, creamy release. It all explodes forth in a searing hot burst.

"Wait," he gasps, his tongue thick and rubbery in his mouth. His eyes roll back as you fuck him through it, not slowing down for a second. Moans spill past his red, bitten lips, bouncing off the tiled kitchen walls. "Wait—! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, no – more – more, more, feels so good, baby, you feel so good—"

"Speak clearly, angel," you hum, pumping your cock into his tight, wet hole. "Stop? Go? Slower? Faster? How deep do you want me inside your pretty belly?"

He whimpers at the slew of choices, his body working too fast for his thoughts to keep up. You were teasing him just a while ago, but now? He came so quickly after you put it in. He flushes hotly, embarrassment flaring in his chest. He feels like a teenager again: small, vulnerable. Loved.

"Don't stop," he pants, eyes fluttering shut as his cock pulses and spurts, smearing his stomach and the counter below him in glossy white streaks. "Don't stop, don't go slow, please—"

So you don't. You fuck him until his cock softens, until his hole becomes creamy and sticky with your seed. Then you keep going.

You're certain Suguru was made to take your cock. His ass ripples as you slam into him, his taut hole swallowing your dick and milking it with every thrust. Gummy and tender-warm with your precome, his insides flex and quiver, squelching crudely every time your hips clap against his ass.

He doesn't complain when you sink your teeth high into his neck, his mouth falling open as his body jolts with melting pain and pleasure. His spine arches, ass clenching around you, as he tips over the precipice and paints his stomach white.

Time passes. How much exactly, Suguru doesn't know – his balls ache with countless orgasms while his legs tremble and struggle to keep him up. He nearly collapses at one point, thighs shaking so badly he's practically bouncing on your thick cock. His moans are loud, unrestrained, and desperate, as if he belongs nowhere better but here.

Somehow, despite his foggy, clouded thoughts, he notices when your breathing quickens and your thrusts grow erratic. He cries out in anguish. "No! No, don't, hah, don't c-come yet, don't stop fucking me, come with me," he mewls, his throbbing cock so hot it feels like it's going to melt right through the stone counter. "'M close, 'm so close, wanna keep coming on your perfect cock – please," he moans, delirious and teetering on the edge. "Ah, ah, ah—! I love your big cock! I love you so much—!"

You hips stutter. Suguru has never been one to say 'I love you' like that – never so spontaneously, and never so clearly. Perhaps part of him was afraid you'd be taken from him if he said it too loudly – if he would lose you if he loved you to a fault.

"Suguru," you whisper, voice so soft and tender and fragile that it makes him unravel on the spot.

He goes first. He will always go first.

But you can't hold back any longer. Not when he's covered in your marks and teary with bliss you imposed onto him. You slam in, excess lube rolling down his thighs in thick creamy teardrops, and he gasps and scrabbles at anything within reach, trying helplessly to release his crushed, aching cock, wet in its filthy little puddle of sticky come.

He manages to hook his knee over the countertop. His dark, heavy, pulsing cock swings and smacks against the counter, sending shocks of hard pleasure rocketing up his spine. The position makes his eyes roll back into his skull. You hiss, releasing his wrists with one hand to spread his asscheek and drive your cock even deeper into him. He quivers violently. His tight hole scrapes the throbbing veins of your cock and he moans your name in a whiny drawl, hot cheek pressed into the cool stone.

"Feel so good in me," he whispers, mouth lax as he pants, the whites of his eyes showing as you shove right up against his prostate. His spine arches, sweat gathering in the small of his back, and you roll your hand down the curve of his hip, pressing the smooth bulge distending his stomach. With each thrust he unravels a little more, body jolting roughly. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"I know, angel," you rasp, not missing the way he clenches at the pretty name. "Fucking dripping for me, aren't you?" You slap his ass with a meaty smack, making him jerk and mewl. His jockstrap digs into his thighs. "Shit, jus' look at you, darling. Drooling for my cock, dressing up all pretty f'me... Can't get enough of my attention, can you?"

Suguru shakes his head dumbly, panting like a dog as his hair constantly brushes the countertop, slipping free from his clip to stick to his damp, flushed face. "Have to – h-hafta make sure I'm the best fuck you've ever h-had – hahh! – s-so you only ever give your cock to – mmn – me." His dark, lidded gaze flicks to yours over his shoulder, his swollen lips parting and sticking at the corners. "S'mine. Don't forget it."

He's beginning to sound a little worn out, chest heaving and breath shaky and uneven. His numbers must be up there by now – six, maybe. You're not far behind. He starts to babble, sharp moans and cries interjected between how full he feels, how perfect your cock is, how he could orgasm from the feeling of your come alone.

It's filling your head. Suguru's praise, the sweet sound of his moans, the adoration thick in his voice each time he whimpers your name... anyone would give it up for him. Anyone would beg at his feet for a sliver of his attention yet here you are, the lucky one drowning in something he gives to you freely. Your cock throbs dangerously, heavy inside him, and he presses back desperately as best he can.

His messy, come-sticky hole gulps you down to the root. With a hungry, desperate growl, you slam into him, his ass rippling with the impact, and he screams your name as your cock stuffs a thick bulge in his stomach.

His head tilts back. His toes curl. His mouth falls open.

He comes violently. Beautifully. It feels even better because you do it together. The overbearing warmth spills into him, thick and creamy, and he gawps as you pin him down on your cock, forcing him to take every heavy spurt and feel every pulse. You hold him protectively, groans deep and pleased and puffing hotly against his sweaty neck.

You stay connected for a while as you fuck him through his high. Yours lasts longer than his – courtesy of his several earlier climaxes – and he lies limp and sated in your grasp as you lazily thrust into his wet hole. Frothy white come dribbles down his taint as you draw back slowly, his puffy taut hole gaping and clenching around you when you eventually slide out. He lifts and wiggles his hips, still calming down from the aftershocks.

You let out a shaky sigh as you lean back and admire his abused hole, fucked wide open. You hook a thumb into his entrance and tug slightly – he trembles, toes curling and thighs flexing, as a thick rush of come dribbles forth down his balls and shaft. He digs his fingers against the counter and you rub your come into his skin, using it like lube to pump his softened, messy cock. He jerks involuntarily into the creamy hole of your fist, hot velvety balls pressing against the edge of your palm, and the loud, sticky wet sounds emanating from between his legs make him quiver with filthy pleasure.

You let go once his body sags against you, thoroughly fucked out with nothing left to give. He lets you lead him into a deep, over-the-shoulder kiss, his gasps and soft moans sleepy and content as your lips smack and mould together, warm and plump. His eyes are closed, his hand resting over yours and curled gently around it.

Finally, you part, both gasping for air. His eyes flutter open, admiring you, and he steals another kiss, moaning lazily as you press your cock between his asscheeks and grind against him. He rocks back into you.

He spends a while just like that, kissing you and grinding against your length as he gathers himself and figures out how to use his legs again. It shouldn't be that hard, but his brain feels foggy, clouded, and the way you kiss him so desperately makes him feel like he's the only one in the world worth knowing.

"I love you, you know," he whispers eventually, blinking slowly up at you like a cat. "Really. I don't want to live without you. I don't think I could live without you."

You turn him over gently, letting him sink into your embrace as he buries his face in your neck, the scent of your musk and cologne tangling his thoughts. His body aches pleasurably.

"It's okay, Suguru," you murmur into his soft dark hair; it smells like coconut. You stare, unseeingly, at one of the many bright mineral dots baked into the white stone. Despite having him warm and breathing in your arms, he feels terrifyingly far away, like brushing fingers over a cliff edge. You wonder if you'll be fast enough to catch him before he falls. "You'll never have to."

[demonic0angel]

What do you think about an au where kid Jazz caught kid Jason in the act of stealing Batman's tires. The end result, they both get kidnapped by Batman.

(I got really excited bc there’s been a lack of asks lmaooo, so it got long 💀)

Jason’s hands froze when he heard a gasp. When he looked up, it was to meet the shocked gaze of a cute girl with long red hair. “You!” She cried out, though thankfully, her voice was still rather hushed in alarm, “You can’t steal!”

She definitely wasn’t from Gotham. Her accent was all wrong, and all of her clothes were nice and pretty, completely unlike any Crime Alley residents. From her horror, it was likely that she was a lost tourist or some sort.

Jason hissed and put a finger to his lips. “Shut up! I can’t get caught!”

She looked indignant. “Yes! Because you’re committing a crime!”

“I don’t have money to eat!” Jason snapped. “The Batman’s rich, he can afford to replace these tires! Just leave me alone! I need this!”

The girl paused, staring at him for a long moment with wide eyes. Jason didn’t have time to dawdle. He could only hope to get at least one tire out before she ran off to report him or something, so he bent down and continued working on letting go of the tires.

The girl shuffled in place and then she said slowly, in a very nervous tone, “I’ll stay here to keep lookout. But you really shouldn’t be stealing!”

Jason smiled, but still snorted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. The name’s Jason.”

“Jasmine, but call me Jazz,” she said. She looked around anxiously and stared at him for a moment. Then she advised, “You should remove all of the lug nuts at once instead of one at a time, if you want to be quicker. And you should get a breaker bar, instead of a tire iron. It’s more versatile.”

Jason lightly rolled his eyes but switched tactics, secretly a little pleased that a pretty girl was talking to him at all. By the time he removed three tires, Jazz had accompanied him the entire time. At some point, they even had light conversation.

Jazz was a year older than him, attending middle school with a little brother and two parents. She had visited Gotham on a vacation, but she was now lost. Jason had lost both of his parents, had no siblings, left school, and lived here as a penniless orphan.

It was fascinating how their worlds had collided.

“Okay, I’ll take these away first because I can’t get four away at once,” Jason said. “Wanna follow?”

Jazz bit into her lip. “I’ll stay here. Give me the tire iron, I can do the last one.”

Jason grinned and thanked her. He was quite lucky that she was both cute and clever! He hurriedly went to put away the three wheels, but even when he hadn’t gone far and came back, it was to see the Batman looming over a shivering Jazz, who almost seemed in tears as the Dark Knight began to approach her.

Without thinking, Jason ran forward and jumped in front of Jazz. “Hey! Back off! She didn’t do anything!” He took the tire iron from her and shielded her, his stomach fluttering from a mix of fear, nerves, and the fact that Jazz had grabbed the back of his shirt in vulnerability.

The Batman stared at them suspiciously. “Oh, really? Then what is the tire iron for?”

Jason glared at him. “This!” He snapped, before whacking him in the stomach with it. Jazz pulled Jason backwards and without ceremony, dropped down to sweep kick the Batman before jumping up to her feet and then grabbing Jason’s hand.

“Let’s run!” She cried, not noticing Jason’s astonishment before she was pulling him away.

Jason grinned at her fleeting back and then laughed as they scrambled away from the Batmobile and its possibly very irate owner. “You just attacked the Batman!”

“So did you!” Jazz responded breathlessly, turning pink in the face. “Where to?!”

Jason ran ahead of her, still holding her hand as he swiftly changed directions. “I’ll take you to my place! C’mon!”

Not even a full day later, Jason was stuffed into the back of the Batmobile, slumping over in his seat with many protests. Jazz sat next to him, sitting ramrod straight and looking nervously around but silent and wide eyed.

“You can’t kidnap us, old man! This is abduction!” Jason shouted at the Batman, who didn’t even look back at them as he started the car.

Jazz huddled against Jason’s body and he squeezed their hands together.

No matter what happened next, he would definitely protect her. Even against the Batman!

[goobstars]

i need reader reacting to maid jax PLEASEE 😼🙏

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐀

summary : there were a lot of things in life you knew you were bound to see, but you didn't expect jax in a maid outfit to be one of them.

tags : romance, jax in a maid outfit, i changed the batting order from the episode don't hate me for it, and censored profanity.

notes : i knew this day would come, so luckily for you, i already had this written. i was just waiting for someone to make a comment about it. enjoy!

you didn't know whether to laugh or feel pity for jax.

the second option didn't really make sense given how he was making fun of ragatha before being put in the maid outfit, so you assumed that this was his karma.

"WHAT THE HECK!?" his shout echoed through the dugout while you lifted a hand to cover your smile, and as you let out a laugh, you had to fake a cough to play it off once jax shot a glare at you.

"WHO DID THIS!?"

you watched as jax's gaze slowly moved over to gangle—who was currently giggling—before his face flushed a hot pink. he lifted his glove to point at her while he let out heaves of breath, "YOU!"

before jax could do anything, kinger announced that gangle was up to bat, and she hastily made her way towards the field while jax scowled at her the whole time.

"jax, you're up next to bat!" kinger spoke, and jax slightly stammered while gesturing to his dress. "but—i can't—i look like this, though!"

he held his arms out to show kinger what he meant, but all he was met with was a shrug before the man turned around to watch gangle bat.

grumbles erupted from his throat as jax dragged himself over to the bench, and he plopped down beside you while placing his arms on the top of the bench. you stared at him for a second before your eyes flickered down to his outfit.

it was a simple maid outfit, for he even had the mob cap on his head to go with it. a heart was cut out on the fabric to reveal his chest, and you noted the way his socks rose to the middle of his thigh before being cut off by a black line.

and his shoes—you didn't want to get started on those. they were simple mary jane's, but instead of a buckle, there was a bow on them.

you were going to have to applaud gangle's creativity later, but for right now, you were just focused on calming down jax so you had the chance to talk to her after the game.

your eyes flickered back up to meet his, and you opened your mouth to speak, but you paused before narrowing your eyes at his.

was he wearing eyeliner?

once you noticed jax looking at you, you decided to ignore the thought as you spoke up.

"you okay?"

"i'm in a maid outfit, what do you think?" he replied sarcastically as he crossed one of his legs over the other, and he had a deep frown on his face.

you understood that he was embarrassed to be put into such an outfit, but if you were being honest, you fully expected him to be acting cocky right now. where were his usual comments about how he looked good in everything? you truly believed that his annoyance was an act until he let out a groan.

"i don't want to be in this anymore..." he mumbled, and you stared at him for a moment before clearing your throat. "come on, it's not that bad."

jax raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned against the bench more, and a small smirk formed on his mouth. "what do you mean by that?"

you slightly shrugged, "i'm just saying that it doesn't look bad on you. like, you're complaining, and i'm sure it's uncomfortable, but it looks good—"

a scoff cut off your words, and you went silent as you thought that he was getting annoyed with you.

but as you looked at his expression, all you noticed was the mischief growing in his eyes as he slightly leaned forward.

you shouldn't have said anything.

"it looks good? what kind of a sicko are you?" his question made you pause, and you slowly turned your gaze away from him as you heard him chuckle. "don't tell me you're into this, you creep—"

"i'm not..." you mumbled as you crossed your arms, and when jax didn't reply, your eyes flickered over to see why he suddenly went silent.

a wide smirk was on his face as he tilted his head at you. "the way you're looking at me says otherwise, dollface..."

"nevermind, you look like s*#$."

you hastily stood up from the bench, but before you could walk away, you felt an arm wrap around your waist as you were yanked back.

and placed right in jax's lap.

"where do you think you're going? you've already batted, doll..." he spoke, and you froze while jax only chuckled. "you should see the look on your face—"

"JAX, YOU'RE UP TO BAT NEXT!"

kinger's shout earned a groan from jax as he slightly pulled you closer to his chest. you felt the outline of his grin against your skin while he spoke in your ear. "don't go anywhere, okay?"

and with that, he moved you back onto the bench before standing up, and he sauntered over to grab a bat while you remained frozen on the bench.

you peered at the ground as thoughts coated your mind, yet one thing was clear.

you were into the maid outfit.

what was wrong with you?

[billysgirllol]

“just makin’ sure.” smiling innocently, tilting her head and batting her eyes playfully. “definitely not tryin’ to get a piggyback ride on you butt naked, i promise.” cutting her innocent act to burst into shy laughter, then she calms down and eyes fall on her hand he’s capturing. his longer fingers wrapping around her small hand which does nothing to calm her racing heart, it physically hurts not being able to throw herself in his arms and kiss him again like the time in new york in the hot tub she remembers well. “the time it needs to he winter, it isn’t. that’s the only time for cuddlin’.” lucy gray sighs, patting down some of his wet hair. “alright, billy.” she laughs again, when she feels like she shouldn’t about his olinger addition— took her a second to catch on. but she thinks about them needing to wait for the morning they head out, though what if it IS tomorrow morning by time they get done sleeping restlessly? frowning when he seems desperate to be with her, it breaks her heart, feeling it pang like a boulder to a big piece of glass. shattering into a million pieces, because she wants to be with him too— but it’s still not the right time, she can’t. “i’m test tryin’ it, billy bonney. alright? i got a lot comin’ up, so do you i say, if we can survive our upcoming busy schedules then maybe on christmas we’ll be a real thing.” there’s so much at stake, it could all go south with how demanding their lives are suddenly becoming— him an actor, her a singer growing popularity, all the different venues she has to be at to perform for.

still, his words play on her mind as she’s plopping back down in the water, feeling so gloomy about the way his pitiful voice sounds saying it…. until their childish antics lighten her spirits again, switching her mind with the quickness she needs. “you didn’t see a THING, billy pervy. makin’ stuff up, imaginin’ it ALL.” well lord, she hopes so. hearing the word worm, she immediately starts laughing, “eww, get on gettin’ away from me NAKED man.” she yells, covering her eyes in case his worm falls out. then drops them, unable to stop from smiling at him saying come here. “alright, i’m here,” taking his hand when she sees it trying to reach her, sneaking and quickly giving his wrist a kiss to at least release SOME of her overwhelming love for him before letting go, “grab the shampoo.” pointing her finger in the direction of where it sits on the float, she goes ahead and turns around for him. “i’m ready to get this done and over with, startin’ to shrivel up like a prune in here.”

“well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing darlin’.” if he was to blush all night long, it’s all charming and at least he’d be in the same boat as her. “we could, if worst comes to worst.” it’s still an option if it gets that bad, “i hope it’s cool in there… does the ac even work?” and how is her and billy supposed to fit in that bunk, seems more awkward than sharing a lake with him. at least they can keep distance here and it’s dark clearly… in the bed? how is she supposed to do that? guesses she’ll have to pretend it’s old times when they had to share a bed together as kids and put their backs to each other if that’s even possible. “poison ivy ain’t too bad of an idea.” with her secret snake idea. the fact he’s helping her plot on pat’s revenge makes her smirk to herself. “and right, who does that… men are that piggish they lose all sensibility to even realize a girl won’t go for them if they’re sneaking at tryin’ to touch her all over.” his hand prints on her legs, she can imagine where they were and feel like they were burning which just fuels her anger and revenge and she knows exactly where to put that poison ivy. “you’re so wise, billy.” glowing because he’s her partner in crime now. “i ain’t JEALOUS, i just claimed this role long long time ago. who says i couldn’t land it too? up where they walk, up where they run, up where they stay all day in the sun,” bursting into song just like the theater kid she’s always been— just as if she was auditioning for it again, even talented at erasing every bit of the twang in her accent when she wills herself to sing in the tone of a disney princess, “wandering free, wishing i could be— part of that world!” she sings, smiling cutely once she closes. “well because i’m—” mentally his girlfriend, always mentally been his girlfriend since they were tiny, amusingly. “cause i’ve known you longest, than anyone has. and i said you were a prince first, so ha.” her confidence cut short when his hands touch her bare hips, that officially does it, that electric that springs through her. and then the question that comes along with it, causing her to really grow bashful especially the way he gets around to asking her what all the mixed signals are about. “because of fear.” she simply puts. “but see, i didn’t do it this time, i didn’t kiss you— so i didn’t give any mixed signals,” as he put it earlier. “this time. now, dunk under.” covering her chest with one arm, using her other arm to push down on his head.

[n0rmal-cat]

Kpop demon hunters x reader- selling your soul for job experience Part 5

[LOOK THEM UP, LOOK THE LIONS UP. anyway rumi 😍]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Abby was struggling to button up his new shirt he sighed, "I can't do it..." as he tilted his head back in frustration. The rest of the group waited for him outside the tourist shop. 

"Do you want me to help?" Romance asked.

“Yes,” Abby replied eagerly, turning around to allow Romance to assist him. “You know it’s not that hard, right?” Romance smirked, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh as he did the buttons up.

Meanwhile outside, reader scrolled through their phone as they waited, noticing that Hunterix content flooded their For You page. Suddenly, they caught a glimpse of a certain man. "Baby, who is this guy?" they asked, shoving their phone into his face.

Baby pushed the reader's phone back. “That’s their manager his name is Bob or Bobby or something,” he said, dismissing them with a casual wave of his hand.

“I need to beat him…” the reader muttered darkly as they returned their gaze to the screen. “So, are you guys done yet?” They called over to Abby and Romance.

Romance patted Abby's shoulder. "All done! Took him long enough to button his shirt," he scoffed.

“Alright then, I’m going to go ahead and scout out the place. Um, you got this!” the reader declared, throwing them a thumbs-up before bolting out into the square.

"Wait!" the boys called after them, but the reader was already lost in the sea of other people. They made their way to the middle of the square, noticing a lot of activity around.  Suddenly, they felt something under their foot. “Saja boys? Ooh, is that what we are?” Reader asked themselves , lifting it up in curiosity. “Why are we lions?” they asked looking confused.

At that moment, someone bumped into their back.“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” A warm hand was placed gently on her back. "Are you hurt?" a slightly deeper voice asked.

“No, it’s okay! I’m fine. It was my fault for standing in a crowded area ” The reader’s eyes widened in realization. “Hey, wait… aren’t you-”

"What? No, we're not?!" one of the girls said, pulling down her hat.

“Yeah, whatever you think we are, we aren’t,” the pink-haired girl chimed in, stepping protectively in front of her friend. reader noticed another girl lingering nervously in the shadows of the alley.

They laughed. "It's fine, I'm not going to bother you or anything."  reader stood up. "But if you want to hide, glasses aren’t the best disguise," they pointed out to Mira.

With a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks, Mira removed her glasses. “I should have gotten sunglasses…”

"I'm sorry, did you want an autograph or something i feel really bad?" Rumi asked, coming out of the alley.

“No, it’s fine. You guys have things to do, and so do I. I love your music, though!"  reader waved, a bright smile spreading across their face.

“Oh! Thank you! Um, we love you too, and—” Mira began, hurriedly pulling Rumi away. “Come on, we have that thing, remember?” she whispered urgently.

“Yeah, yeah, that,” Rumi nodded, casting a final glance back.

reader speed-walked away, buzzing from the brief encounter. That was cool, they thought, their cheeks warming at the sight of the girls who were even more beautiful in person.

Lingering in the central square, they looked around at everything that was seemingly prepared for the boys. "How the hell did Jinu do all this? And when did they get a merch line?" they asked, glancing back at the brightly colored flyer in their hand. “Wait! Are these them? These are the cutest things I’ve ever seen l'm gonna cry! How did they manage this so fast? They just got their names...why is baby's wearing a diaper, I've known these boys for a day and I'm getting emotional!?"

As background music started to play and pink smoke appeared, they exclaimed, "Oh, it's starting!"

When the smoke dissipated, there stood Jinu, Abby, Baby, Mystery, and Romance behind him. 

Reader eagerly pushed through the crowd to get a better view. It was actually kind of sweet to see everyone dancing along, at least it was fun. 'Fun? That's a nice way to put leading people to their death...' Suddenly, the reader felt a sharp pain in their head. "Ow!" they exclaimed, looking up just in time to get hit by one of the boys' flying hearts "agh!".

“See, if they're 'nice,' why would they just hit that random person, Zoey?” A loud whisper was heard through the crowd. “I’m sorry, I’m an optimist!”

A hand reached down, helping them up from the hard pavement. “We keep meeting like this,” a gentle smile met the reader's eyes, the throbbing in their head left as they took her hand. "Um, yeah, thanks."

But her attention was quickly diverted by the boys. “Oh no, no! Don’t eat that!” she exclaimed, darting off.

The reader felt the warmth of their own hand where hers had lingered. Why did that warmth make them feel guilty? 'Maybe because you finally understand what you’re doing? Do you really think this is a joke? That warmth is the only thing that's going to be left of her when were done' they clenched their fist.

Their focus shifted back to the boys as Jinu took center stage, “That’s it for now, see you tonight on everyone’s favourite variety show!” He put his hands together. “The Saja Boys love you!” They waved goodbye before vanishing into another puff of pink smoke. The reader watched with wide eyes. Reader needed to learn how to do that.

"Wait, where did they go? How the hell am I supposed to follow them?" Sure, they might be back at the apartment, but damn, couldn’t they take the reader with them?

Reader watched as the three girls ran in one direction.

"That was so cool." "Did you see how he smirked at the end? Hehe, it was awesome!" another chimed. They heard the whispers in the crowd. "Now I gotta walk back by myself?" they groaned.

A stall catches their eyes. Plushies....lion plushies....

When the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime,  reader emerged, arms loaded with five plushies, they walked past the living room to get to their own room. 

"Why do you have all of those?" Jinu asked, raising an eyebrow as he sewed a small black hat.

"Don’t ask,"  reader replied flatly, opening their door with frustration visible on their face. "W-what? Hey!" They paused, surprised as they noticed the other four boys comfortably on their bed or rummaging through their belongings, completely at home in their space.

Romance comes up to them takes one of the plushies to his chest. "Awwww! Did our little manager miss us that much after five whole minutes apart~?" He nuzzles the lion plush with exaggerated affection.  

“No! And also, I need to know where these came from. Do you guys have an artist demon on standby?” they asked shaking the plushies around.

"mystery made them actually he's our artist, he makes all our merch," Abby said, taking his own plushie from them.

“What? Really?!” The reader turned to Mystery, eyes wide with surprise.

"..." Mystery pointedly avoids eye contact, suddenly very interested in examining a loose thread on reader's bedsheet.  

"He also made your sweater design, And the Saja Boys logo, And literally everything else you see here," he paused. "...He won't admit it, but he loves drawing us."  

"That makes so much sense for you?" reader puts the rest of the lions on their bed and their hands on their hips. "Now we have to talk about what happened."

"Oh, which part? That you ran off without us, or that you got clobbered in the head by our love hearts?” Baby asked, sipping a juice box.

“No, the fact that the hunters know who you are and want to kill you! Isn’t that a concern for you guys?”  reader paused, “And you-get in here!” they yelled toward Jinu, who was still lounging on the couch, completely oblivious.

“Reader, you don’t have to worry about that. What you should worry about is our outfits for the variety show,” Jinu replied, standing up.

“Oh, I came up with that a long time ago. Spoiler alert everyone’s in pink,”  reader said smugly.

Baby looked at the reader, his expression one of complete disgust, mouth open as if he had just tasted something sour. “I hate you.”  

Call it revenge,” the reader smirked crossing their arms playfully. “But that’s not the point, the hunters are probably going to try to kill you tonight, right?”

“Most likely, yeah. But what about it though?” Jinu shrugged, as if the threat of death were just merely an inconvenience.

"But they won’t attack you if there are humans around, right?" They all nodded in agreement. "Okay, and what am I?"  

"a demon" "yeah you're gonna be a demon" "mhm"

"Okay, the keyword there is 'gonna.' I'm not a demon yet," reader gritted their teeth in frustration. "Let’s say me 'the human' always around you guys because I'm your manager. I play the innocent human that doesn't know your demons."  

"Why do you even want to do that? Shouldn’t you care about humanity as a person?"  jinu asked leaning on the doorway.

"I could say the same things about you guys, you were once human, and yet here you are."

They looked at each other, caught off guard by the reader's point. "Ah, well, you're not wrong, but-" Abby started, but was cut off.  

"We have a variety show to get to, we can talk about this later. play your little game all you want i don't care?" Jinu asked, stepping in front of them, his expression growing more serious.  

Reader paused, looking between them all. the image of that girl's hand pulling away, the warmth fading. "...Yeah," they finally said, voice steadier than they felt. "Someone's gotta play decoy for your disaster squad." 

The room goes silent. "Now get out of my room!" reader points to the door.

"Rude!" Abby clutches his chest as if wounded, even as he scrambles off the bed-but not before snatching one of the plushies.  

Baby shrugs, tossing his juice box in reader's trash can. "Whatever. Your room sucks anyway."  

Mystery is already halfway out the door-until he pauses just long enough to steal one of their hoodie off the chair, vanishing before you can protest.

"Taking my stuff won't do anything! Just wait until your next outing, i get to pick your outfits you know!"

"Joke's on you~!" Abby sings songs from the hallway, waving their stolen plushie tauntingly. "We live here now, Your stuff is OUR stuff!"  

Baby’s voice echoes down the hall as well "Also, I hid all your socks, so have fun with that~!"  

Jinu stood in the doorway, arms crossed with an amused grin on his face. 

"Aren't you going to go put your clothes on?...or your makeup up?" they look up at him.

"Don’t look at me like that. This face keeps the fans around, you know?” he said, gesturing to his flawless appearance.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Your face is the only thing that keeps them around, because guess what, you’re just a loser in a hot guy’s body,” they smirked back, narrowing their eyes. 

His human form face twisted into a complicated expression, half offended, half smug, before he leaned in slightly too close, a playfulness in his eyes. “Ohhhh? So you do think I’m hot~?” 

"I-" reader’s voice caught in their throat. They shut their mouth and shoved Jinu out of their room, slamming the door behind him.  

“Worth it!” Jinu’s muffled laughter could be heard through the door, followed by a dramatic thud as he presumably flopped against it. “And remember pink outfits for EVERYONE! Your reign of terror is noted and feared, manager~!”  

Reader sighs and shakes their head, looking back at the four remaining plushies on their bed, a light smile on their face.

[euno11a]

im not sure if you're still doing stuff for the Saja boys, but the brain juices are flowing... 👀

What abt a Jinu x Reader where Reader is a dark romance girly? HEAR ME OUT! ✋️🙂‍↕️🤚

Im talking Reader just loves dark romance. Haunting Adeline, Your Soul to Take, Lights Out-... I think you get the idea.

And she's just OBSESSED with Jinu's demon form. She won't say it, but it's obvious. The gold eyes... the fangs... She's just obsessed, that's really all there is to it.

Oh and don't get her started on Idol... (can you blame her? It's PEAK 😭🙏)

Reader's fav lyrics are "I'm the only one who'll love your sins" but you didn't hear it from me!

"You look like you could just... I don’t know—devour me"

The warm, cozy scent of garlic and spices filled the air as you sat at the kitchen counter, watching Jinu work effortlessly in front of the stove. His movements were smooth, confident, like he had done this a thousand times before—despite the fact you knew he didn’t cook all that often. Still, tonight was different. He’d insisted on making dinner for the two of you, and you were content just to watch him work.

Except, you found yourself... staring at him more than the food.

The way the light caught in his dark hair, the quiet confidence in his every action, the easy sway of his hips as he moved around the kitchen—all of it had you completely mesmerized. It wasn’t even the food you were focused on at this point; it was him. The faint gleam of his gold eyes catching the kitchen light. The way his sleeves were slightly rolled up, revealing a glimpse of toned forearms.

You let out a soft sigh, resting your chin in your hand, completely lost in your thoughts about him.

Jinu, who had been stirring something in the pot, glanced over his shoulder. “What’s with the stare, Y/N?” His voice was casual, but you could hear the amusement there, as though he knew you were watching him.

You blinked and immediately looked away, a bit flustered. “N-Nothing,” you said quickly, feigning innocence and trying to keep your gaze from drifting back to him.

Jinu, however, wasn’t fooled. He chuckled softly and turned to face you completely, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You’re staring at me like I’m some kind of mysterious creature.”

You bit your lip, trying to act casual, but honestly? You couldn't stop your eyes from lingering on him, especially now that you could feel that familiar warmth settling in your chest, the kind you always felt when he was close.

“No, really, it’s nothing,” you said, looking down at your hands to avoid his gaze.

Jinu’s grin widened, knowing exactly what was going on. "Mm-hmm." He shook his head with a little sigh, and then, as if on cue, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

You heard the soft rustle of fabric, and when you looked up, Jinu had already shifted—just a little—into his demon form.

The change was subtle at first, but the moment his golden eyes locked with yours, you could feel it. His pupils were slitted, like a predator's, and the dark aura around him seemed to intensify in the small kitchen. His fangs poked out from between his lips, sharp and unmistakably dangerous, yet utterly beautiful to you. You felt your heart rate pick up, your breath catching in your throat.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, your eyes practically sparkling as you stared at him.

Jinu leaned against the counter casually, his golden eyes glowing in the soft light of the room. He could see the effect he had on you, and he wasn’t sure whether he should tease you or just let you have your moment. But when he saw you literally pouting at him, with that adoration written all over your face, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Is this what you were staring at?” He asked, his voice low, smooth, almost playful. “You know, I could’ve just finished making dinner, but I figured you’d rather see me like this.”

You couldn’t even hide it. You were totally fangirling.

“I—I can’t help it, Jinu!” You exclaimed, your hands clutching the edge of the counter for support. “You look so good like this! The gold eyes, the fangs... it’s like you’re a whole new person—and you look even better than before!”

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the attention, even if he tried to play it cool. “Better than before, huh? I must really be that good looking, huh?”

You practically glowed as you nodded enthusiastically. “You know it! I mean—look at you! You’re... you’re perfect. You look so dangerous, but also so... hot.”

Jinu smirked, pleased with the compliment. “Well, you certainly seem to love it.” He pushed off the counter and stepped closer to you, the air between you two thick with that simmering tension you always felt when he shifted. “But tell me—do you love this form? Or do you just love the fact that it’s me?”

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “I love everything about you, Jinu. But this... this is a whole other level. You look like you could just... I don’t know—devour me,” you said, your voice dripping with an almost teasing tone.

His smirk deepened, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. “You want me to devour you, Y/N?” he asked, his voice smooth and low, the teasing edge now clearly visible.

The air seemed to crackle with the promise of something dangerous, and you knew he was playing along—enjoying how much you admired him. It made you feel... wanted. Needed.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you said, your voice quiet but full of longing. “I think I’d like it... a lot.”

Jinu chuckled, and for a moment, you thought he might lean in—close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. But instead, he stepped back, putting his hands on his hips with a self-satisfied grin. “You’re lucky I’m making dinner, or you’d be in trouble right now.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “You're making me wait for food, and now you tease me like this? That’s cruel.”

He just gave you a wink. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t handle a little heat in the kitchen?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the wide grin that spread across your face. “I think I can handle you... and your demon form, Jinu. Just don't make me wait too long, okay? Because now... I’m really hungry.”

His golden eyes softened, and the playful edge to his smile faded slightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not that cruel. I’m making your favorite.”

You felt your heart flutter at that, the warmth of his care and attention hitting you right where it mattered. “You always know how to make me smile.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “You keep staring at me, though, and I might just get distracted and burn the food.”

You grinned even wider, watching him carefully, the sight of his demon form still making your heart race. “Wouldn't be the worst thing that happened today... as long as you’re the one making it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your lingering gaze. “Guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you then.”

And with that, he turned back to finish dinner, the glow of his demon form a constant reminder of how much you were drawn to him—all of him.

[revelboo]

i’m surprised it hasn’t been mentioned yet, but how would the trine be with their sparklings? I feel like Starscream would be a bit more comfortable than he is with Soundwave and Megs lol

Yeah, they’re at ease around each other

Domestic

Seeker Trine x Reader

• Back and arm aching as you adjust the weight of your daughter against your hip, you glance at where her twin brother is napping sprawled on his belly among a pile of stuffed animals. Satisfied that he’s not going anywhere, you resume working on dinner, your own food set aside so you can work on processing energon into the gummy treats and confections your mates adore and never have time to spend on making. Know Star thinks it’s frivolous, but he always eats the treats anyway. Though Skywarp is the one with a taste for sweets and will eat all of them without sharing if you don’t watch him. Dumping the slightly sticky loaf out of the mold, you dip a spoon into a container and dust powder over the loaf while holding your breath.

• Letting himself into their big, shared habsuite, Thundercracker’s head lifts as he vents to pull in the scent of energon, you, and his sparklings and all the tension of the day fades away. Spotting you with the smaller of the twins, sneaking bites to her as her mouth opens with warbling chirps, her brother still recharging. “How can she be so much smaller and still eat so much?” You murmur, looking up at him as Star and Skywarp follow him inside.

• Heading for his son, Skywarp mass shifts and grabs the sparkling. Grinning as he hauls the little one up and his son’s angry hissing falters into a chirp when he realizes who has him. Little wings flicking as he flares his own wings, moving them slowly to see if the sparkling will try to mimic him, yet. Disappointed when his head turns to spot his sister getting treats and he’s reaching both chubby arms, servos flexing as he warbles a shrill demand. ‘She’s fine,’ TC reassures you, mass shifting and moving up behind you. “Her colors are muted, though,” you protest and Skywarp glances at the faint blush of cream color taking over the default gray of the protoform.

• “I think that is going to be her color,” Starscream says, mass shifting to join you and Thundercracker and reaching to snag one of the bites you’re cutting loose from the loaf to pop it into his mouth as his daughter shrieks a protest, little legs kicking. Her colors pale so far while her brother is darkening. Becoming opposites, though there’s a faint rosy flush along the edges of her wings and developing plating that might eventually be his red, her brother’s plating darkening slowly, the edges gilded in what might be blue or purple at some point.

• Watching Star reach to pick up another treat and offer it, your daughter grabs for it, the energon goodie squishing through her little servos before she’s awkwardly taking bites and smashing it all over her face to make a mess, her fine motor control pretty much nonexistent at this point. Face tipping up as Thundercracker brushes his jaw against your head, you see Skywarp grab a fistful of treats. Giving at least one to your son before shoving the rest in his mouth. And you’re not at all surprised when your daughter pats a sticky hand on your cheek and neck to ‘share’ her treat.

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader | Chapter 12 - Echoes

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, this chapter contains depictions of depression and poor self-image.

A/N: Soooo.... Hi? Didn't intend this to be a month late, but alas, life happens. Can't make any promises on my regularity, but I'll try!!

Read it on AO3 Chapter 11

2.1K words

Bob’s POV

Though Dr. Sofen had insisted it was right to at least give the whole distance thing a try, Bob was doubting it more and more as the minutes ticked by. He stared at the ceiling as if there was anything interesting to look at, knowing there wasn’t. 

Walker had called a team meeting about it to be held in the morning. Bob dreaded it, knowing he’d have to explain all the therapy terms Dr. Sofen had thrown at him to make sense of the situation for the team. 

A soft knock on his bedroom door startled him out of his thoughts. It creaked open, revealing a backlit Yelena, light from the hallway seeping into his room. 

“Bob, are you awake?” Yelena whispered. He nodded, before realising she probably couldn’t see him. 

“Yeah, I’m up. What’s uh… what’s up?” Bob propped himself upright and leaned over to his bedside table, flicking on the small light. Yelena gave him an awkward wave before settling into the chair previously tucked under the unused desk across the room. 

“How are you holding up?” She asked. Bob shrugged. He knew if he gave any form of a vocal answer she’d see right through the fact he’d likely be deflecting. It’s not like he needed a babysitter to begin with… But the company was nice. The ability to just… sit quietly in the presence of somebody else was a luxury he’d never had in the past. Not to mention their whole ‘secret’ sleeping arrangement. 

“It’s not permanent,” he finally sighed, rubbing his palms on his blanket, smoothing out some of the folds and crinkles anxiously. “Logically I think it’s a good idea, given my past. I don’t do too well with unrestricted access to things.” 

“Just because you have an addictive personality and a past with addiction doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel a connection with somebody,” Yelena spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In a sense, it was. Yet Bob couldn’t help but feel like he too easily clung to things, people, that brought him comfort. 

“I know that…” 

“Do you? Because I feel like you’re unnecessarily withholding yourself as a form of… restriction? Maybe?” Yelena got up from the chair and motioned to the side of the bed currently unoccupied. Bob nodded and lifted the blankets so she could get in. 

When they settled comfortably, Bob responded. “I did consider all these things before agreeing with Dr. Sofen, you know. It’s not, like, unthought-through. I’ll leave the full explanation for the team meeting tomorrow, but there’s a lot of things I’d never even considered before she brought them to the light. Things you guys worry about, too.” 

“Like what?” Yelena closed her eyes, leaning into the pillow, waiting for his answer. 

“I can’t let people get too close. You know why…” Bob sighed, eyes gazing back up to the ceiling. 

“So just because you have crazy superpowers now, you’re never allowed to have any friends? That’s stupid.” 

“It’s not like that,” Bob groaned. 

“Like what? And turn off the light, I wanna sleep.” Yelena burrowed herself deeper under the blankets. 

Bob chuckled lightly before turning the light off, also settling back into the bed. 

“It’s not that easy, or simple, I guess.” 

“Newsflash,” Yelena yawned. “Life never is.” 

Bob guessed she had a point. It was nice to have someone keep him company again, though he doubted Yelena would cuddle him the way a certain babysitter did. Still, sleep found him. 

✶

“So we all think this idea was dumb to begin with?” Walker started the team meeting. They were gathered around the dinner table, a variation of breakfast foods spread about. 

“Not dumb, necessarily. Just a bit abrupt, maybe?” Ava munched on a croissant between her words. 

“Like I said, it’s all fully discussed with Dr. Sofen. I understand where you guys are coming from, but it’s not exactly like you are mental health professionals,” Bob shrugged. 

“I called her yesterday,” Yelena said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Dr. Sofen, I mean.” Bob squinted at her suspiciously from across the table. She had somehow failed to mention that little detail last night. “I argued with her a bit, but ultimately Bob does have a point. We’re not professionals.” 

“So you’re just gonna let this go?” Walker questioned with more heat than necessary. Why he was feeling so heated about it, Bob was unsure. 

“Let it go? No. Let Bob make his own decisions? Yes.” 

“Bob is a grown man. Doesn’t need a babysitter,” Alexei interjected, wiping the crumbs of his breakfast muffin out of his beard. 

“But you were the one that hired her!” Ava scoffed. 

“Only because Lena said so,” Alexei said, as if it wasn’t him that had insisted on hiring you. 

“I appreciate that you guys are concerned, I really do. But ultimately it’s up to me, and for now I think this is best.” Bob’s voice was shaky, yet firm. No arguments. 

She’s only the first to go. If you keep acting this entitled, soon, they’ll all follow. 

His voice echoed, incredibly loud and so, so unwelcome inside his head. It was his choice she wasn’t currently here. Bob’s choice. Robert’s choice. Not the Void’s. 

Keep telling yourself that. We both know you just crave attention and drama. 

“Bob?” Walker waved a hand in front of his face. 

“Hmm?” Bob replied, focussing back on the conversation at hand, half eaten pancake still on his plate.

“When is she coming back?” Walker asked. A bolt of… something… shot to his stomach at the question. Anxiety for if he’d be okay without her? Happiness for the fact that she was coming back? Or… 

You’re just jealous Walker is asking after her. She’d prefer him, anyway. Who would want a loser like you? 

No, it’s not like that. 

…Was it? Was he jealous? 

“Uuuh, sorry– I- uh, I don’t know, exactly. Probably next week?” He finally replied, cutting a large chunk of pancake and stuffing it in his mouth, mostly to have an excuse to not keep talking. 

“Does she know that?” Yelena asked, already knowing the answer. No, she didn’t. For all she knows it could be an experiment of several weeks– months, even. 

“I– I’ll let her know,” Bob mumbled. Whether it was a lie, even he didn’t know. 

There you go again, Bobby. Always making empty promises. Making people worry. 

It had been nice, for that very little while, to have it be quiet. She hadn’t even been gone, just the thought that she was going to leave, seeing her on the elevator, it was enough to have him come right back. 

She’s glad to be rid of you. You’re such a burden. Which grown man needs a babysitter? Just so you won’t kill yourself? Please. 

Void had never been nice, but these last few hours he’d been downright cruel. If only Bob could figure out how to get him to shut up, once and for all. Maybe with Dr. Sofen’s help… But her plan wasn’t working so far. On the contrary, it only seemed to get worse. But a lot of things get worse before they get better, he had to remind himself. 

The team had to hurry out of the Watchtower for an emergency, leaving Bob entirely on his own for the first time in weeks. He sat on the couch, unnaturally stiff and straight. What was he even supposed to do? Was this weird? It’s weird. Definitely weird. 

While it wasn’t really any more quiet than usual when the team was on a mission, it didn’t feel right. He knew his hearing had increased since he’d taken the serum. What he didn’t know was that he’d miss the sound of your soft, focussed breathing as you worked on your coursework. The light tapping of your keyboard as you typed away at yet another assignment while he read his book. And when he focussed on it, your even, rhythmic heartbeat. 

If he focussed now, all he heard was the traffic all the way down by the street. An occasional ding of the elevator as it took people up to the higher floors. 

He should read, take his mind off things. 

All you can do is distract yourself. You’re only delaying the inevitable. Death comes for us all. What purpose is there even to life? Especially yours? It’s worthless. 

Dr. Sofen had told him that even regular people– people with no evil, dark entity inside of them– got these kinds of thoughts. Realistically, he knew that. Depression can hit anybody. But this… Void… It was next level. He took part in Project Sentry so he could be someone. Maybe he could even help people. But look at him now… 

You know the Serum only enhances what’s already there. I’m nothing new. This is allllll your doing Bobby. It's all your fault. 

Sometimes it was hard to differentiate between what was him, what was Sentry and what was Void. He’d tried to explain it to Dr. Sofen. 

✶

“It sounds like there might be a light case of a split personality disorder going on, though I can’t confidently diagnose it right now, given your situation,” she’d explained, typing some notes on her laptop. 

“It’s like, they both sound like me. And I had these thoughts before, so it’s not like it’s new. I know they’re just… split-off from my personality, enhanced by the Serum, but it’s difficult to not see them as separate… beings, you know?” Bob got better at explaining it every time he tried, though he was never sure if he was actually making any sense. 

“You say it’s nothing new, but clearly if it’s upsetting you to this extent, it’s different from before the Serum. Could you explain the difference?” 

“Well, like I said, they feel like separate beings now. Sentry is the good part. The part of me that’s confident, though sometimes misguided, and just wants to help. He’s… a lot. But he’s closer to, like, me? I guess? He’s less split off, less separate than…” Bob trailed off. 

“Less separate than Void?” Dr. Sofen pressed. He nodded meekly. 

“Void is the worst part of me combined, I suppose. Insecure, aggressive, cynical, antisocial, reckless, nihilistic, the list just keeps going. He just… It feels like he’ll swallow me whole someday. Which is impressive, y’know, given he’s already inside of me… I don’t know what the logistics of that would be,” Bob joked apathetically. 

And here I thought we were getting along. You’re the insecure, nihilistic one. I’m realistic. There’s a difference. 

“But you realize they’re both you, correct?” Dr. Sofen was never one to back away from difficult questions. That was what therapy was for, Bob supposed. He might just need a hard hand to get through this. 

“Of course, yeah. But it’s like… Do you know when you wake up suddenly and you get that feeling where you’re falling? It’s kind of like that. Your brain knows you’re not falling, logically. Yet you still get that lurching feeling in your stomach and the knee jerk reaction. Logically I know they’re both me. But it doesn’t feel like they are. I can’t control what they do or say.” 

“Maybe control is something we can work on in the near future. When do you notice they’re not as present? Or when do you feel most in control?” Dr. Sofen asked such difficult questions sometimes. Bob usually left their sessions with a tiresome headache. 

“The team… When they’re around and when we’re all having a good time. They, uh, they hired someone, recently. To keep me company when they’re working. That helps. She helps.” 

✶

It had been that same session where Dr. Sofen suggested taking you out of the picture for a little while. Just to see if Bob could regain control over his other identities. He was trying. Really, he was. But how do you even control your own mind? It was like asking someone to not think of a pink elephant. They’re going to think of a pink elephant. How can he control Void if Void is inside his head, expecting and knowing every small thing Bob could even try to get rid of him? 

Bob slammed his book shut, unable to focus on it. He closed his eyes and let his head fall against the wall behind him. Dr. Sofen had told him to make lists. Pros and cons. It would supposedly help him both keep his mind occupied and at the same time take control and clear it up. 

A list he could do, right? What were the things that helped make him feel better in the past? 

The team

You 

Books 

Meth

No. Not an option. 

Didn’t it feel good though? 

No. It ruined his life. 

But then again, Void was ruining his life, too. Pros and cons Bob. Wait, no. There are no pros to fucking meth. Cons only. So many cons. God, this wasn’t working.

The taglist is full, sorry!

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki @chimchoom @spidermiraculous-blog @s00ty-feet @28cnn @tinythebunni @softpia @roeroeroeyourboet @secretkittydreamland @cultish-corner @greenbean-4ever @t-rexs-world @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @ifilwtmfc @renren-006 @10ava01 @kawaii1369 @hawkinsavclub1983 @paleepeaches @lnmp89 @frozenhuntress67 @my-name-is-baby @a-moranguei @daisyyy47 @petersluvbug @articel1967 @purplefluffycows @midnightecko @lizzylynch1 @keira-kaz2y5 @lightinbug @thefriendlyferretwriter @xblueriddlex @funkyfable @papapappapapapa @darling-eos @neenieweenie @poppingaround @ren-ni @badbishsblog @makepastanotwar13 @spongelll @qardasngan

[theshadowsden]

I have a request for Jinu, man is very clumsy and easily scared,

Imagine a reader who is dead silent and just kinda shows up places constantly scaring him and throwing him off of whatever confident front he’s trying to put on.

Thing is reader isn’t even trying, they’re just like that, and thinks his reactions are hilarious.

Ghostly reader and their jumpy Jinu 💕

I have a feeling that with having mystery around he would be used to getting snuck up on at random points in the day, with no footsteps or any indication that someone was around

Though that all changed when he met you.

It would seem that somehow mystery had duplicated when you two started being a couple.

Sure he could see mystery of all people sneaking up on him without footsteps but you? He never saw it coming in the first place.

Queue one fateful encounter you two had one day;

It was a nice day, nothing important to do. The Saja Boys didn't have anything scheduled for the day, no fan meets, no recording sessions etc. So it wasn't a total surprise that you were over with them, relaxing.

Jinu was obviously deep in thought, as he skimmed through paper work on the desk he was sitting at, so he hadn't even noticed the fact that you were near him at first, till he did a double take and almost fell out of his chair. You looked at him with a curious look on your face as his focused look was struggling to come back.

"You okay there Jinu?" You asked blinking curiously, noticing a strained smile as he tried to steady his breathing at the sudden jumpscare.

After a breath he didn't know he was holding, he cleared his throat.

"Y..yeah..." He said with trying to keep his composure, trying to steady himself back into a cool composure fit for an idol, recovering from you scaring him. You walked over to him, and placed a small kiss to his temple and sauntered off, side eying his face and laughing as his face turned red.

With a mystery 2.0 in the mist, he thought he was safe, making sure he was alert. Though having his head on a swivel didn't help much, as it almost never worked out.

Even though Jinu was a cool, composed person--well a demon, he still spooked easily, even with having plans to not get spooked by you. Though at every stop, all plans fail as soon as he thinks of one.

The second time, you almost gave him a heart attack when he saw you;

The second time you scared him was when he was trying to cook dinner. He was deep in thought, as he looked at the inside of the fridge of the Saja house. Burying himself into the depths of the fridge, he pulled out the amount of ingredients he needed. Upon closing the doors to the fridge, he almost let out a scream, seeing you so casually standing there.

Jinu, clutching his chest, looked at you with panting breath as he also held onto the dinner ingredients.

"You trying to give me a heart attack?!" He shouted, out of breath, cool composure gone as he placed the ingredients on the countertop. He wouldn't die to your antics, as he is a demon after all, but it is the principle of the matter. This is the second time you've scared him out of appearing out of nowhere. The ravenette watched as you laughed again, like the first time, and saw you walk off to who knows where.

The last and final time was when he really wasn't expecting it.

He really didn't expect you to scare him in front of the entire group.

His entire cool idol personality was shattered when you had scared him like Rumi.

You may or may not have talked to her. You won't confirm or deny the information, even after Jinu asked.

It was the hour after a fan meet, the Saja Boys had just finished up the event, and Jinu was casually leaning against a wall, wondering where you where. The ravenette looked around the street, being casual, with small waves towards the fans that were still around keeping appearances.

He then turned and did a double-take, seeing you appear out of nowhere, crouching on the wall. You grinned down at him as he crouched down, clutching the brick wall with wide eyes, and mouth agape, catching his breath looking at you.

The rest of the boys either looked on in amusement at the situation or where laughing at Jinu. Who knew that the most serious, composed demon in hell could get so easily flustered by his s/o.

"Why must you do this do me?" Jinu gasped out, sending silent daggers, with a flash of golden towards the rest of the band.

You chuckled, stepping down of the half-wall.

"Because its the funniest thing ever, seeing you get startled so easily." You chuckled.

"Soon you will be learning things from Mystery." Jinu said with some slight annoyance.

"...may have already started..?" You said as Jinu rolled his eyes and put his hands on his face, seemingly accepting defeat.

"You are insufferable....you know that?" Jinu said with a sigh.

You took his hands away from his face and gave him a smile.

"You know you love me, Jinu. You wouldn't trade me for anything and you know it." You said with a cheeky smile, looking at him.

"Mmm, not sure after all the jumpscares you've done." Jinu said cheekily, with his standard smirk.

You matched his smirk back. "You've dealt with Mystery's shenanigans, can't deal with mine?"

"I can grow used to it...just don't go planning on doing things along with him."

He missed the evil look in your eyes as you began to already plan more jumpscares.

A/N: hopefully you guys enjoyed this? First ever request ive gotten, and I feel like Jinu is out of character. But he is basiclly a looser is a hot man's body sooooo....we ball.

Also this is the first time ive written for Jinu, so he might be out of character. This is mostly all head cannons and me yapping ^^;

Hopefully you guys enjoys it <3

[akkaweo-akkaweo]

Take it slow

Jo Yuri x M!reader

Tags: fingering

WC: 4.1k

—————

"I wish I could tell you how pretty you are," you scribbled lazily on your tickler notepad.

You brought your gaze back up to the muse of your musings: Yuri, quietly working on her desk. The way she lazily traced indents on her lips with a pen, how she lightly nibbled on the end, and how her hair parted so easily as she perched it on her ear – you'd think yourself lucky to be a pen rather than hold one.

"I wish you could see that that's a bad idea," your office teammate quipped, face looking in the same direction as you.

"That wasn't for you to read," you growled, slamming the tickler shut.

"Fair," he surrendered, "but still. Stay away from Yuri."

You turned your chair to face him. "Trying to eliminate competition, eh?"

"More like trying to eliminate participants altogether," he replied. "She's trouble."

"She's misunderstood."

"What's so 'misunderstood' about being seen entering the assistant HR manager's apartment AND the department's finance officer's house within the same week?," he quipped. "She's a sl–"

You stood up to meet his face, eyebrows furrowed. No other words were necessary; he slunk back to his desk, angrily typing away at his phone.

He wasn't wrong though: Yuri was a name attached to one too many rumors in the office, and you'd heard dozens by now. You'd heard names like your immediate supervisor, the marketing team's lead, and you swear you've heard the regional officer's son.

But life, of course, works differently. The one time you bumped into her, you'd dropped your mug. She cleaned it all up, and left a new, almost identical one on your desk the day after. Not a single word was exchanged. That didn't sound like "trouble", nor being a flirt, and that definitely didn't warrant the vitriol your coworker gave.

You were even determined to prove him wrong.

You opened your notebook and wrote down: 7 days.

=====

"Whoo!," you shouted aloud. No desklamps, no faint videos or music, just silence in a seemingly empty office. You pulled out your tickler again to get a glimpse of the carrels, hoping to do some perspective drawing.

Then you locked eyes with Yuri. Turns out you weren't alone.

She bowed at you respectfully, but you were thrown off guard that you almost tipped your chair over. She got up from her chair, ready to run to you, but you stopped her and chuckled it out awkwardly. She gave you a warm smile, bowed once more, then turned back to her table.

Never mind the double whammy of being rudely loud and looking stupid; she smiled at you. Smiled so brightly it practically burned itself into your retinas and your memory.

Without hesitating, you drew an eye. Then another, then undid the first one to get the proportions right. You drew her smile, her cheeks, her lips; you were locked in a daze, and Yuri had you hypnotized.

"You're really good at drawing," she said warmly over the divider of your carrel. You jumped again, yet again almost falling off your chair.

"Hey!," Yuri rushed to you. "You really need to be more careful."

"Sorry," you replied, still flustered. "I scare easily."

"Sorry too," she said, pulling up a chair from behind you. "I just saw you lazily swiveling your chair around and bopping your head to – wait, you don't even have your earphones on?"

You scratched your head. "Oh. I guess I was just... in the moment."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. Her eyes disappeared behind the wideness of her smile, the toothy grin almost beaming into your eyes. Those looks could blind before they kill.

"You carry that notebook around with you a lot," she remarked. "I've seen you pull it out a few times."

"Really?," you remarked, surprised anyone would notice. "Well, it's just for random thoughts and stuff. Need to remember things, maybe capture it. Before I forget." You flipped through some pages to illustrate your point.

Unintentionally, you ended at the page that had your words from the other day. Even if you closed it right after, Yuri saw it clearly, and even leaned in to confirm.

"Oooh, you find someone pretty," she replied. "Would it happen to be that girl you were drawing a while ago?"

How you weren't caught then and there was nothing short of miraculous, but you weren't about to make the same prayer twice. "Yeah, you could say that. Was... thinking of asking her out actually."

"Unsolicited advice," she began, "don't ask for a place. Tell her where you want to go."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's not very democratic."

"Then don't propose anything stupid," she rebutted.

You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Very reassuring."

She got up and offered a hand. "C'mon. It's late. Let's go for some noodles"

You shrugged. "Sure, why not."

She turned around winked at you. "Easy, right?"

Clever girl.

=====

A bowl of ramen and 3 beers each was all it took to read Yuri from cover to cover.

She took the exact same course as you in college, just in a different university; but, instead of pivoting to creatives, she doubled down on managerial work, which nailed her the job. In fact, you both entered roughly at the same time, just in two separate departments.

She loved music. She's tried dancing. She didn't disagree with games, but did with sports. Art was never a strong suit; but, on the flipside, theatre was almost a lifestyle.

You couldn't help but stare. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the exhaustion from a day of work. But you sat there, chin in your hands, focused entirely on her. Not once did your hand fidget to your phone – a first, as far as things went. "Entranced" barely described how stuck you were in that moment.

And Yuri just existed in the moment. Even when your conversation lulled into silence and she focused entirely on the last sips of ramen, she didn't notice you staring at her, instead looking pensively into the void. You almost wanted to let the cat out of the bag unprompted.

So you clenched your teeth. "Yuri, I'd like to ask you something." She looked at you plainly, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement while she sipped from her bottle.

"I've heard some... unfounded rumors about you."

Yuri's smile started to sink awkwardly, the edges trembling ever so slightly. Her eyes suddenly felt like they'd hollowed. Though the resto felt more full than an hour ago, it felt like the proverbial pin had dropped. Not just quiet, but silence. Time had frozen.

Without hesitation, you leaned back on your chair and declared: "But I propose that if I ask you, we trade secrets. I'll start." You swallowed hard. "I fucked Ms. Seo."

Yuri, still awkwardly putting her cup of water to her lips, did a spit take. A full one too, water droplets on your face and all.

"THE HR manager?!?," she screamed behind gritted teeth. You chuckled as you wiped the water on you.

In brief: after a bar crawl with friends that ended right by your office, you found Ms. Seo, then still assistant HR manager, seated on the curb. You brought her home, one thing led to another, and the freakout the head manager had when both of you ran into him at the office carpark almost got you fired – if not for Ms. Seo defending you in a empassionately worded email she sent to him that you were BCC'd in.

"She still smiles at me when I pass by her office," you chuckled.

Yuri was stunned, but something appeared to have clicked in her. You delivered the coup de grace and held her hand.

"Yuri, if our office is fucked up in its own way, then you're not." You rubbed your thumb on the back of her hand.

Yuri moved to the seat beside you and hesitated before leaning her head on your shoulder. "May I?," she asked softly, and you nodded.

She laid it all out, and you felt everything just shy of anger: every single rumor was only true in bare fact. Yes, she had indeed entered the houses of different bosses, but what all rumors miss out was that she'd actually ran away from all those bosses the second they made any advances on her. For some unfortunate reason, she'd been spotted every single time.

The finance officer story was different however: she did actually have sex with him, thrice by then, but he threatened blackmail over all those nights out with bosses if she didn't agree to officially be fuckbuddies; when she reported to the assistant HR manager, he asked for a one night stand, and she ran away from that too. Without any protections available, before she knew it, rumor spread.

"I'd have resigned by now," you blurted out, slamming your cup into the table. "Holy fuck."

"I'm not that affected by it, honestly," she said, a little tremble audible in her voice betraying her dismissal. "It just makes me... angry. That the one time I actually said yes, everything went to shit. And worse, I wasn't even satisfied. I was just crushing hard on him." She looked at you straight on. "He had a tiny dick too." You couldn't help but shake your head in secondhand embarrassment.

You didn't notice it, or when it happened, but your hands were fully intertwined with Yuri's. A lone, small tear rolled down her cheek, drying up as quickly as it came.

Your heart started thumping in your ears, not entirely out of nervousness, but with enough shame to make you squirm where you sat. But there would be no way out of it unless you told the truth.

You sighed deeply, the alcohol lifting your filters. "Great. Now this is going to look bad."

Yuri looked up at you. "What do you mean?"

"Just... promise me you'll believe I'm telling the truth, and I promise I will tell the truth."

Yuri nodded slowly, and you pulled out the notepad and flipped the page of your drawing of her.

"You saw this one, right?," you asked. She nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

"Wait, I only saw the details now... is that...," she trailed off.

"Yuri... I wanted to ask you out," you said softly.

You handed her the notepad again, back to the sketch of her. She looked at it quietly, without moving a muscle, but you saw a tear drop onto the paper, crinkling the thin sheet.

"And I was actually planning to ask you out tomorrow," you admitted. You flipped to the note you wrote in big letters the other day: 1 day. By now you'd crossed out numbers 2 through 7 and the s at the end.

"I guess it was half to find out more about those rumors, and half cause... well... because I wanted to know more about you first."

Yuri looked up at you, nose red and eyes glistening.

"And I'm asking you to trust me to not be doing this for the sex," you laughed nervously. You hovered your arm around her. "May I?"

Yuri instead kissed you on the cheek – not quickly, but softly, with gratitude. Her tears weren't of grief; her smile was so wide that it squeezed out the tears from her eyes.

"You're the first guy in this office who's ever actually asked me out."

You grinned and placed your arm around her, your cheeks side by side. The edges of your lips were practically in contact. Smiles turned into more gentle grins, before the both of your closed your eyes, not even a smirk on your mouths.

Yuri whispered softly, her voice slightly broken. "Please keep telling me what you like about me." You shifted your position so that she could lean her face onto yours more comfortably.

"I think you're really pretty. But you didn't need me to tell you that, did you?" She chuckled weakly.

"I also think you're nice," you continued. "You replaced my mug, remember? I never forgot that. I still use it."

As you kept talking, her face would face fully into your cheek, as if trying (and failing) to fight the urge to kiss you. Each time she did, you felt your cheek flush and your head sink into your shoulders.

"Gosh, you know what," you scoffed, "maybe you don't realize how pretty you are. Like, screw all those dirty old men in the office. You've got such a cute smile and cute eyes, and I just kinda wanna run my hand in your hair," and you did, gently, "like this. That's it."

Yuri wrapped her arms fully around your neck in a nice, comfy embrace, her face yet again right next to yours. It felt like a tango of your lips: you'd rub her cheek with yours, lips grazing it ever so lightly; she'd do the same, planting a minuscule, almost unintentional peck at the tip of your cheekbone. Your lips soon felt like they were grazing against each other, like you were both unsure if you'd jump ahead to the next step.

You kissed her on the cheek first; she responded with one on yours. You kissed her forehead; she kissed your chin. You kissed the tip of her nose, and she giggled, her smile still plastered on her face.

"Is this going too fast?," you asked.

Yuri bit her lip. "It's just the way I like it," she responded, before pulling you in for a deep one.

As far as first dates go, you hit the jackpot. In this moment, the world around you blurred out in the heat of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, and the twinkle in her eyes as she looked up at you.

"So," Yuri replied, her head tilting playfully, "where do we take this?"

=====

Yuri dragged you by the wrist like an excited kid in a playground. At every landing she'd wait for you and peck you on the cheek like a trail of breadcrumbs. You laughed at each one, and you indulged in it too, trying to race her to her floor and catching her in your arms, making out while in a tight embrace.

You were lost for adjectives to describe the the high you found yourself in: electric, by the energy flowing through you seemingly sourced from Yuri herself; fiery, by the passion of every kiss you shared; whirlwind, by the fact you weren't in control of the speed of it all – and you savored every second it.

Yuri fumbled with the lock on her door, giggling uncontrollably as you hugged her from behind and kissed her neck. When she did make it through, you both bumped into everything – the table, the dresser, a sofa – blindly navigating your way to the bed as your lips remained locked. Even there, when you thought a recalibration of pace was in order, she was still on you, hungry.

You landed on the bed, chest rising and falling heavily, and Yuri pinned you down by your hips, straddling you. She undid her polo swiftly, then her skirt, in a swift, almost rehearsed manner. She was humming, brimming with excitement, as she unclasped her bra and removed her panties – now fully naked before you.

She was perfect in all the right spots: meaty where it mattered, lean where it drew attention. When you gently reached out for her chest – and she pulled your hand to speed things up – it filled it just right. Another hand down to her thighs, your thumb teasingly close to her folds, and you felt just how excited she had been between her legs.

"Like what you see, baby?," she purred. The pet name made your heart race: it was so natural, so smoothly said. Try as you might to be more subtle, you felt your erection meet her slit.

Yuri lunged at you, kissing you with the same amount of passion as before. She undid your buttons, your belt, your pants, only needing you to take them off. You propped yourself off with an arm to do it yourself, but she was right on you, almost ripping your shirt off your shoulders.

In the midst of it all, her tongue deep into your mouth, her folds gliding over your shaft, feeling the wetness and heat practically oozing out, your ears started ringing. You couldn't quite shake it off, but it was like you were holding your breath, dazed and in a trance; something felt... off, and it was enough to keep your eyes open as she continued to go wild on your mouth.

"Yuri," you gasped, as if surfacing from the depths of your frantic makeout session. Yuri pushed you down again, shoving her tongue back into your mouth, chasing after a high that had slowly started to dissipate.

"Yuri," you breathed out, still out of breath from her onslaught on your lips. She licked at the skin on your neck and under your chin, every bump on her tongue making you flinch. It took wringing out every remaining sense of composure to grab her by the shoulders and lean your forehead on hers.

"Yuri." You said one last time, firmly. She stared and heaved at you like a scared kitten. "Calm down," you reassured. "You're going too fast."

She paused. "Don't you want this?," she said gently, with a half-meant smile. "Baby?"

"Yes, I do," you chuckled awkwardly, thrown off by the pet name once again. "But what do you want to do?"

She froze. It wasn't a time-stood-still, or a lost-in-thought kind of freeze; it felt more like a train had stopped completely on the tracks.

"W-what?," she stammered. Her breath was heavy as the warmth wafted all over your lips.

"What do you want to do?," you repeated. "Like, what do you want me to do? Where do you want me? What do you want to be done to you? God, that sounded weird." Yuri held her laugh nervously.

She sat up between your legs, prompting you to prop yourself up by your elbows. She stared off to the side, not at anything but in thought.

"Most guys don't ask me that," she replied, "No one's asked me that."

You reached up and kissed her lips, just once. "Then maybe let's start slower." You pulled her back where you were, her on top of you, and gave her another deep kiss. "Figure it out from here." You finally shed your underwear, now fully feeling the warmth of her body and the air on your skin.

You guided her by the chin to your lips again. Unlike a while back – torrid, sloppy, desperate – this one felt more calm, maybe even ambivalent. But it felt easier, and Yuri matching your pace was the sign you needed.

"It feels so weird to do this," Yuri shuddered, still inches from your face. "So slowly."

"We can stop," you responded, leaning your head back on the bed to provide distance. But her eyes still looked at you yearningly.

"No, please... please, keep going," she begged. "It's just that all those other men wanted things to go so fast I thought–"

"Stop," you said sternly, with authority. You didn't mean to command, but, as you'd tell her next, "don't think about that. If this was really your choice, you get to do this at your pace." Her eyes started welling with tears, though you could tell she was trying to hold it back.

"Here," you continued. You took her shoulders and guided her to swap places. Yuri was now completely under you, her limbs close to her body but still splayed out. You kissed her forehead one more time. "Let's start from here. Would you rather the last position with you on top? Over this?" She shook her head.

"So you want this?" She nodded.

You leaned in to kiss her, slowly; you felt her tongue push in, and you paused, withdrawing again to keep pace. Past the entirely unintended edging, Yuri's eyes yearned for you, wanted you. You met her lips again, trying to gauge if she would slow down, and she did, now hesitating to move. Now you moved in unison, wrapping and sliding around each other gently.

You brought a hand to her chest. "Do I?" She nodded again. You grabbed a bit too hard, and she flinched. "Sorry." Still, she kissed you, a tear slowly rolling down the side of her head.

"Is something wrong?," you asked, but Yuri just laughed.

"No, no, please, keep going," she responded. "I just feel so emotionally overwhelmed."

You played with her nipples, slightly puffy but very soft and pliant in your grasp. You broke from her lips to plant kisses on her chest, between her breasts, then sucking each nipple. Yuri moaned in pleasure, and without prompting cried out your name. Jackpot again.

You moved a hand down between her legs, searching for a reaction. She closed her thighs around your hand, and you pulled back. But Yuri brought it back in between, slowly inching your finger down the same way. You let her use your hand first, like a toy that just happened to have blood flowing through it. Then, slowly feeling your knuckles and ridges, she loosened up to you.

You felt her clit swollen and slippery, and as you flicked it gently her moans started to escalate in volume. Occasionally she would guide your wrists along different spots – sometimes lower, closer to her core, sometimes back to her clit, wanting it side-to-side than in circles – and you followed obediently, chasing after her yet elusive climax.

While you did, Yuri absolutely enjoyed moaning your name. She pulled you down so that your ear was right on her lips, rewarding you for your care. She'd whisper it between every moan, her lips gently brushing on your earlobe. Your cock may have hung in the air, but it twitched like crazy every time her lips trembled to you.

When she started to get sensitive, she pulled your hand out and, without warning, shoved it into your mouth. And holy fuck, that taste was addicting – a little metallic, a little sour, significantly saltier than expected, but you craved for more.

As you licked it all up, she brought your saliva-drenched fingers into her mouth, playfully twirling her tongue around your digits. "I want this in me," she groaned, once again bringing it down and sliding two of your fingers through her slit. You broke away gently, moving your arm on your own. Yuri looked like she had started sink into her bed, slowly undoing all the hesitations, the pains, feeling you inside her.

"One more finger, baby," she begged. "Stretch me out, please." Her wish was easily granted, and moans turned into loud huffs of ecstasy. You upped your pace, arm burning, just to please her, to get her to scream you into your ear.

Suddenly, Yuri started shaking. She grabbed your arm aggressively, staring at you with a mouth agape. She was close, so near her tipping point that all she could do was plead with her eyes to completely wreck her. And even as your bicep tensed, you rammed your hand as fast as you could.

Yuri released like a rollercoaster: a gentle, quiet calm, before aggressively writhing around, her hips swinging in the air even when your fingers had been freed. Her eyes were sealed shut, her arms gripped at anything it frantically could, before crashing down into a trembling cocoon. You wrapped your arms around her, and she felt cold to the touch, drenched in sweat and other fluids that had seeped into her sheets.

You rubbed your hands on her shoulders and back, kissing her forehead. "That was beautiful, Yuri," you praised. "You're so beautiful. You're safe here." You could hear a gentle sniffling from within.

"Are you okay, Yuri?, you asked, and a pair of reddened, damp eyes looked up at you. She leaned her head on your chest and rubbed her hand on it. She started giggling.

"Uhh... are you okay?," you asked again. You'd never have thought you could "break" someone this way.

"That was...," she paused, lost in thought, before giggling again. "I got nothing. That felt so good. How the hell are you so good at that?"

You laughed into her hair. "Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

"Yeah... but what about you?," she pouted. "I didn't make you finish."

She was right. But you just held her tightly. "Slowly," you reassured. "Maybe tomorrow night, after we watch some Netflix, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled, leaning back into your chest for a single second. Her head shot up to look at you incredulously. "Did you just–"

"Gotcha," you winked.

—————

A/N: display picture filed under photos that made me feral

[staticthread]

Welcome to Amphoreus!

pairing: phainon x reader (fem.)

tags: isekai & transmigration, attempt at humor, additional tags tba

author's note: cleaner lore is lowkey so insane to me. i said to myself this was gonna be lighthearted no plot but whoops!

masterlist

Elpis. 

Elpis.

Elpis.

EL-PIS. 

That was your name.

Answer when someone calls it out.

Marmoreal Market is bigger than it is in-game. There are more people, more stalls, and the same goes for the streets. The game version felt like one of those architecture models compared to the real (?) thing; the details are there, but the real version had way more. 

At least, the flying amphora and breakables weren’t a thing. You’re pretty sure you’d try to break those on instinct.

Irene: Hey, where are you?

Chartonus’ shop

Irene: ?!!

You send a thumbs-up in response.

Well, it’s not like you knew any place in Okhema other than Marmoreal Palace—which you’re not sure how to get to. Chartonus’ shop was the only landmark you had managed to navigate so far, and even then, it took you thirty minutes to find it.

Sadly, Aglea’s version of the internet didn’t come with Google Maps.

But at least you aren’t illiterate in Okheman.

Wait, is it called Okheman?

Anyways. That made navigating the streets easier.

You’re not sure if that came with being isekai’d in general or being isekai’d through transmigration. Like whatever skills the real Elpis had, you’d also have situation.

You’re not sure that’s the case, though.

The real Elpis seemed to be a functional human being, which you d efinitely aren’t.

The first thing you did when you woke up in Amphoreous was go back to bedrotting. The initial freak-out quickly subsided when you realised you were an NPC, an unimportant one at that! 

Biggest mistake of your (new) life, by the way.

It turns out that being transmigrated as an NPC meant you had to do things other than be crowd filler. 

You see, Elpis has a job , a job that you’ve been ignoring for three days now. What’s her job? You don’t know. You hope she isn’t a warrior or something because NOPE! Not doing that. 

Still, it must be important if Irene is worried.

Or Elpis was just a functional human being social life.

Worried…

It felt weird to associate an emotion like that with an NPC. Even if everything around you felt alive, there’s still that assurance that none of this is real. You’re in a video game and even then Amphoreous isn’t—

Yeah, no, let’s not think about that. 

You didn’t feel like spiralling right now. Spiralling wouldn’t be good. You’re getting enough weird stares as it is.

“There you are!” A woman in a lilac dress comes up to you, and you assume that this is Irene. She’s pretty, you note, but then again, everyone here seems to be attractive. Elpis herself is good-looking, but Irene had the elegant kind of face card.

Is being ugly not a thing in this world? 

“H-hi Irene…” Her face changes instantly from happy to concerned (?), and before you knew it, she was dragging you by the arm to an alleyway.

Oops! Guess that’s not how Elpis talked! 

“Something’s wrong with you.” She points out, her entire demeanor changing to something sharper, something dangerous.

“I…I haven’t been feeling well.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. It’s not like you had any other excuse. 

Irene clicks her tongue. “In what way?”

Why do I have a feeling I’m totally screwed!

“Um…I’ve been getting headaches–” because I haven’t been eating, “–- feeling more exhausted than usual,”-- because I haven’t been eating– “and,” you open and close your palm, trying your best to look disturbed—it’s really easy in this situation, “I…I feel like I’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

Irene stills.

You wish you could freeze time and look at a camera. What were you up to, Elpis?! 

“It seems there was an issue with the transference.”

“Transferance?”

She gives you a pitying look and takes your hands in hers, “Yes, the essence transferance. Do you remember?”

“No.” 

“A shame.” Can you atleast tell me what it is?!?! PLEASE?!!?!

“But,” Irene gives you a twisted but proud smile, “Still, I must give you my congratulations.”

…

Huh?

“Congratulations on becoming an official member of the Cleaner Order, Elpis. Do your successor proud as the seventy-seventh generation. ”

…

Huh?!!1!1/?!?!?!!

[faithhearted]

Maybe this had been a mistake…

Who better to keep General Washington safe than Ben, even if the former didn’t believe that to be so? If Tryon and Matthews really were plotting to kidnap the Patriot’s only hope and assassinate his chief officers, then how could they prevent it from New York? Then again, how could they prevent it if they didn’t know a damn thing about the supposed plot, which may or may not be afoot. Culper Jr. had only sent word of a potential plot, not one that had any leads or solidified detail.

They’re caught between a rock and a hard place, and failing in reconnaissance may not be the worst to come. Lurking behind enemy lines is just as great a risk as always, and Rebekah knows it’s selfish to be glad about Ben agreeing to accompany her, but she trusts him more than anyone else.

She watches as he paces nervously, glued to his notes as though he were studying for exams. Oddly, his disconcertion prompts her to feel relatively calm about the matter, and she rises from the bedside to stop him in his tracks, placing her hands over his and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“Mr. And Mrs. Bolton are anticipated and welcomed investors to the crown’s efforts. Matthew’s is welcoming several into his home tonight so procure funding as they attempt to keep New York so heavily fortified. Tryon will also be in attendance.”

Here, she attempts a soft smile, “Perhaps we’ll have the chance to send word of the current weak points. Liquor looses lips, and there will be plenty of brandy served during the negotiations.”

God willing, Rebekah hopes that while the men talk business and the womenfolk engage in gossip, she can manage to slip away and find something of value tonight. The less time this takes, the better. Washington refuses to relent in his desire to take back this city and she fears it will be the unraveling of the Continental Army’s foothold. The soldiers were growing weary and with efforts needed farther south, mounting apprehension was gnawing at everyone’s heels.

Please, God, let there be something to discover that will turn the tides.

“For what it’s worth, it’s nice to see you out of uniform again.” She adds, her smile widening, “I was beginning to think I might never see you in any color but blue.”

It’s difficult to keep herself from imagining the end of this bloody war, Benjamin hanging up the uniform altogether and donning an ensemble fit for a gifted teacher. She loves how he lights up when talking about his time with his students, the majority of them all now serving age and very likely doing so, but for which side? More than anything, she wants to win that life back for the man she loves.

“I’ll be with you for the first half of the evening, so if it gets difficult to stomach the l.oyalist bravado, then look at me and direct your conversation in my direction. Maybe it’ll make it a bit easier…”

“You risk your life every day for this Cause.”

"But that's different," Benjamin softly replied, even though he knew she would disagree. "I'm supposed to risk everything for the colonies because it's my job. You...y-you're..."

“How can I do any less?" Rebekah cut in. "If it means the difference between winning and losing this war, I’ll do whatever I have to.” 

Shoulders slouching, he thought in dismay of all he'd lost and whom, and with a shaky breath, Benjamin reached up and cupped the side of her face. "If that meant winning the war, but losing you, I'm not so sure I could bear it..."

Now isn't the time for guilt, he thought, and yet he couldn't stop the words from tumbling free. Face growing pale beneath her appraisal, he grimaced and swept back a stray lock of her hair. "You know how I feel about relinquishing control..."

“Then come with me,” Rebekah pleaded. “We succeeded once before. We can do so again.” 

Rolling his lips inward, Benjamin dropped his hand with a frustrated huff. He knew she was right -- by God, could she stop being right? -- and with a stiff nod, he agreed, "I suppose I'm going to have to... While we're out, I can leave Brewster in charge of any potential correspondence or coding that comes trickling in."

God help us all...

--

Mercifully, their travels were uneventful. Benjamin and Rebekah were able to cross the city lines with their forged entry papers, and then acquire an inn for the night. While the latter unpacked, the former nervously paced the room, reviewing his notes about their various targets with mounting dread.

"I've played many roles over the years," Benjamin muttered, "and yet somehow, the act of loyalist is my most difficult." Here, he flashed a feeble smile, if only to show a modicum of levity, before resuming his studies. "I can scarcely focus, knowing what lies ahead... Are you sure you procured us the proper invitation? And that they expect us?"

Of course they do, you loggerhead. Relax. Calm down. Trust the ones you love.

[sheepispink]

no pressure but aaaa i really love the ghost & lower rank reader thing you wrote 🥺 will there be a part 2?

no pressure + take care of yourself mwah

it’s not a chapter by chapter thing but there will be multiple parts, anyway here’s the next one, bit shorter but there’s a longer one coming after this :)

also tagging @alexinmirrorland for support on the last one :D

i forgot to mention that the last one was intended for fem reader but if anyone wants gen neutral or male reader lmk i can make alternate ones 🤝🤝

part 1

——-

The grueling part of work is over, which leaves you and your teammates sitting in the corner of the mess, scoffing down whatever crappy food they’re serving today. There’s plenty of people about, but thankfully not so much that you have to shout just to hear each other.

“So, who are your roommates?” One girl, codename ‘Beetle’, asks after finishing her food, now she leans on the table expectantly. Two of the guys weren’t here when the fire happened, on a small training course and had returned to be immediately placed in a random superior’s room.

“Sergeant Sanderson.. He’s very quiet.” One guy—aka ‘Meatball’— says, chewing down on a bread roll as he holds his cup up in his other hand, ready to chug down the water next. Meanwhile, boy beside him, Vulture, rolls his eyes, believing he’s exaggerating. “It’s true! I don't even hear him leave or enter–I think that’s why they call him Roach.”

The rest of you giggle around the table at that, the codename nothing short of silly despite your own ones, especially when the two idiots are squabbling over whether it’s true or not. “Yeah well that’s nothing, mine opens the curtains at five am every morning–even on weekends. Plus he sprays his cologne everywhere.” Vulture argues, until Beetle turns to you, looking at you curiously. “Who's your roommate? I haven't even heard you complain once, not even in training.”

Everyone turns their attention to you, whose face is still stuffed with the chicken leg you were devouring. “Umm..” You swallow down the last bite, swallowing some water before you end up choking aswell. “It’s Lieutenant Riley. He’s okay.”

“A lieutenant?” Both boys look at you in shock, unbelieving that you’d been paired with a lieutenant of all people, all while she looks at you confused. “Who even is that though? I’ve never heard of him.”

“Oh, right— it’s skull mask. Ghost?”

The table falls silent, mostly because their jaws are dropped, in both horror and shock. “You’re joking, right? You wouldn’t be alive right now if you weren’t”

“I’m not joking” You scoff out, chowing down on the bread roll now and making all your words mumbles. “Why would I even lie about that?”

The three share glances with each other, suspicious ones at that. Of course every damn rookie knows the reputation of him, moreso the stories that have been told about him.

“Prove it.”

—------------------------------------------------------

“Just because he’s my roommate doesn’t mean I'm not just as scared of him as everyone else–this is evil!” You whisper shout as they pull you down the halls, two of them restraining your arms.

”Well we all know you’re lying, so just confess before we make you prove it.” Meatball huffs, tugging your sleeve along even as you squirm again, now trying to gain sympathy points from Beetle instead.

“You believe me right? I’m not lying!”

You almost stumble over your own feet when you come to a stop outside the gym, looking around in confusion before you spot the familiar mask on one of the men walking across the room. “Go on then. Prove it.”

“What? I’m supposed to just go up to him and say ‘hi roomie’?”

“No– obviously not– just ask him a stupid question or something!”

Before you can argue, she shoves you towards the gym doors and you stiffly enter, swallowing sharply as you watch the Lieutenant walk back to the machine he was using, near a sergeant you’re pretty sure is in his team. But it’s not just any sergeant–no– it’s John Mactavish himself, codenamed Soap. The youngest to join the SAS and hell, everyone you know talks nothing but praise about him. You turn back in a moment of desperation, but your friends have dispersed already, heading towards the supply closet so they can ‘retrieve training equipment’. Damn them. So now you stand in the middle of the gym, torn between actually walking up to them or just living you life being framed as a supposed liar or worse—an attention seeker.

Fate decides its course for you because a bunch of soldiers come for the post-lunch rush, causing you to step out of their way. Of course, you end up stumbling awkwardly over to where Ghost is benching a lot more weight than you could ever handle. “What’re you doing here?” The question catches you off guard and you immediately snap your head towards where he eyes you, not hesitating as he brings the bar lower to his collarbone and then pushes it up to sit on the holder. He sits upright again, still staring, but thankfully Soap has gone elsewhere—likely to refill his bottle or something.

“Uhh.. I have a question.” You glance to the right, wondering if you could somehow make a run for it, but you immediately make eye contact with the three idiots that set you up for this, their glares insistent.

“Don’t got all day, y’know” He huffs, lifting his mask a smidge to wipe his face with the towel.

“What’s your favourite Haribo?”

You really need to get better at what you blurt out because of all of the possible questions you could’ve asked him, even just asking where a piece of equipment was, you had bloody asked him what his favourite gummy was. His eyes narrow in your direction, and you’re convinced it might even be a glare considering that was a very reasonable response to wasting someone’s time.

Unfortunately, it was far worse than any of the possibilities you considered. “Eh? Terrorising the rookies without me?” You freeze, immediately recognising the Scot’s accent, and Ghost seems to read you easily, given that he crosses his arms over his chest, staring straight at you. “My roomate.” He hums, gesturing before turning his attention back onto you. “Go on, repeat it.”

“I- uh– I was just asking the Lieutenant what his um, favourite..Haribo was..” You force each word out, already expecting to be sent to the track for ten laps at this point. Soap smiles at you, lips curling into a sliver of a grin or rather a smirk but he reins it in, tapping his finger against his chin pensively. “Eggs are arguably the best. I’d fight ye on that.”

“Gummy bears.” Ghost plainly states, and you’re ready to give them a thumbs up and run out when Soap nods along in agreement, leaning in just slightly to you.

“This ones a real sadist. Eats the legs off first, then the hands.” For a second, you’re confused, or rather slightly unnerved by his statement though you're not too sure why. Maybe it’s because his elbow is gently nudging yours, or the fact that they look like they’re going to eat you alive. Either way, Ghost nods along to the words, not denying the claims in the slightest. “Bites the head of last. Real cinematic.”

You laugh a little, just for the sake of it, but Ghost stands again, grabbing his bottle in his hand. “I like my sweets the way I like my interrogations. Head off last.”

Now you just stare at the both of them, Soap’s hum of agreement and then the silence that follows. Surely it was a joke, right? You’ve heard rumours before, knew it was probably exaggerated, but now you were getting second doubts the longer they looked at you blankly. Soap’s face is dead straight, staring at you as you blink like an idiot.

“Right. Thanks for the answer.” You nod, a weak smile on your lips, though your face grows paler with each second they refuse to make any reaction apart from a small nod. As soon as Soap turns his head, you make a dash for it, your friends who eavesdropped looking equally as disturbed by the interaction. Soon you all leave the room, silence filling the space between all of you.

Back at the gym, Ghost snorts before patting the Scot on the back and settling himself on the bench again. “Good one mate. I’ll tell ya if she pisses the bed tonight.”

——————

Lmk if the codename thing is weird, not so much the actual names but like using codenames yk? I feel like its easier than calling extra#1 amy or sumthin LOL

oh and do lmk if you wanna not be tagged idm i just figured

[runnning-outof-time]

Could we have at some point Thea being sick and only wanting her Daddy around? I imagine her as this strong little girl but whenever she feels under the weather, he just gets super clingy and cuddle needy with Tommy in order to get back on her feet 🤍

Goodness anon, I’m sorry this took SO LONG!! But OMG I love this idea so much!! Thea would totally need her dad if she was ever feeling under the weather! I couldn’t help but write something small under the cut for this! I hope you enjoy!

**also forgive me if the use of telephone technology isn’t quite historically accurate here**

Under the Weather

Tommy Shelby & OC!Daughter (fem!reader mentioned)

Summary: Thea only wants her dad when she’s feeling under the weather.

Word Count: 1659

Warnings: none

“Mr. Shelby, there’s someone on the phone for you,” Tommy’s assistant announced the second she saw him enter the building.

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, surprised that there’d be a phone call waiting for him. He didn’t even bother to take his peaked cap off as he accepted the receiver from the woman so he could bring it up to his ear. “Shelby,” he spoke in a flat voice, waiting for whoever was calling him to respond.

“Daddy…you need to come home.”

The voice on the other side of the line made his blood run cold. “Thea? Thea what’s the matter?” he asked, attempting to keep his tone steady while internally preparing for battle. His oldest daughter’s voice sounded so weak and worried; he was immediately thinking the worst.

“I need you at home, daddy,” she didn’t give much info, just repeated her desire to have him with her.

“Sweetheart, you need to tell me what’s going on,” he insisted, his paitence for the situation quickly running out as worry was overtaking his body. “Has something happened? Are your sisters and mum alright? Are you alright?” he then unloaded a flurry of questions.

“No,” came the girl’s weak response. Her voice faded as she spoke, and a string of muffled coughs were heard right after.

“What’s happened?” Tommy asked.

“I’m sick, dad,” Thea responded, sniffling before she continued, “I want you to come home and help me feel better.”

A long breath left Tommy’s lips when he heard what was wrong. He was relieved. Not because his daughter was sick, but because there was no immediate danger present at home while he was away.

“Dad?” her soft voice called from the other side of the line.

“Have you told mum that you’re sick?” he asked her, wanting to see if there was a way he could quell this problem without leaving the city.

“Yeah.”

“Has she helped you?” He was fairly certain he knew the answer to this question. Of course (Y/N) had helped her…he swore that often times she knew the kids were sick before they even showed any symptoms.

“She has, but…” a sniffle cut her reply off, “but I want you to come home and help me feel better.”

“Darling I’ve got to work…”

“Daddy, please,” Thea cut off his excuse, emphasizing her plea in hopes to tip the scales in the right direction.

There was a moment’s pause on both sides of the line then as Tommy thought it over and Thea waited for his response. The former really didn’t have more fight left in him for this conversation, and the latter really just wanted her father home to help her feel better.

The pause ended when Thea began coughing, the sound of it being what broke Tommy’s resistance. “Alright, sweetheart, I’m coming home,” he said to her once her coughing fit was finished. “I want you to get into bed though, eh? Don’t be waiting for me.”

“Ok, dad,” she weakly agreed to his stipulation, her voice more hoarse now.

“Good. I’ll be home soon,” he assured her, saying his goodbyes before the phone call ended. He didn’t waste time in addressing his assistant, “something’s turned up at home. Push back the meetings I had scheduled for today.” He barely waited for a confirmation from the younger woman before he turned and exited the building to get into his car and quickly drive home.

————

“Daddy! You actually came!” Thea was shrieking the second Tommy crossed the threshold into the foyer of Arrow House.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed,” he commented on his daughter’s presence as he handed his coat and briefcase over to Frances. Once he was free, he kneeled down so that he was closer to eye-level with his daughter.

“I was in bed until I heard your car,” she explained to him, “thank you for coming home, dad,” she then said, wasting no more time in closing the space between them so she could wrap her arms around him tightly.

Tommy happily accepted the hug and quickly noticed how hot she felt. It was like he was hugging a small furnace. “How can I help my girl feel better, eh?” he asked her, pulling back slightly so that he could look at her. He couldn’t help but brush the strands of hair that had been slicked down on her forehead - surely from her sweat - aside as he looked her over.

“Theadora Shelby!” A voice yelled out before Thea was able to answer her father. “Where have you gone?!”

Both Thea and Tommy looked up the staircase to see (Y/N) come into view in the hallway above them. She was looking all around, surely for the little girl that was no longer in her bed. “Daddy came home, mum!” Thea called to her mother, a smile on her face despite how she was feeling.

(Y/N)’s eyes followed the voice and sure enough found Thea and Tommy standing together in the foyer. She was surprised to see her husband. He was supposed to be in town for work today.

“Thea called the office,” Tommy, sensing his wife’s confusion, gave an explanation for his sudden appearance. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at his answer, and she opened her mouth to give Thea a talking to. Tommy stepped in before she was able to get words out, “I didn’t have much to do today, love. It’s fine that I’m here,” he informed her, a slight nod of his head quelling any quarrel she may have had towards their daughter’s actions.

(Y/N) was about to say something in response, but just as she opened her mouth, Thea broke into a coughing fit. “You’ve got to get back in bed, Thea,” she said to her daughter.

“Daddy carry me please,” the young girl meekly asked her father once she was done coughing, flashing him the puppy dog eyes that she knew he couldn’t refuse.

“Alright, love,” Tommy agreed, hoisting her up in his arms. He made sure she was secure before he reached his free arm out and wrapped it as best he could around (Y/N)’s shoulders. This action pulled her in closer, close enough for him to press a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled at him when he pulled back, her hands falling to rest on her hips as Tommy began to ascend the stairs with Thea’s bedroom being his destination.

“Have you taken medicine?” he asked the little girl as he gently laid her on her bed.

“Mummy gave me some,” she answered softly.

“Has it helped?” he asked another question.

“A little,” she nodded her head with a frown.

“Is there anything I could get you?” another question left Tommy’s lips.

“My horsey stuffy, please,” she requested, pointing to the large bin that was overflowing with stuffed animals.

Tommy nodded before moving to the bin. His eyes fell upon the several horse stuffed animals she owned. “Which one, eh?” he asked with a chuckle.

“The painted one, daddy…Mr. Spots,” Thea answered like it was common sense. Like Tommy was supposed to know which one she wanted without question.

“Mr. Spots it is,” he stated in a low tone, grabbing the desired horse and moving back over to where she was laying. “Anything else, Thea?” he asked her.

“Can you cuddle with me?” she asked, flashing those puppy dog eyes again as she hugged the stuffed horse tightly.

“Of course, love,” he answered her, then shedding his suit jacket so that he’d be more comfortable laying beside her. He draped it over the rocking chair that sat in the corner of the room before moving back over to the bedside.

Thea had already scooted over far enough to leave space for him. She smiled as he lowered himself onto the bed, and she cuddled up into his side almost immediately after he laid down. Tommy gently brushed his hand through her slightly damp hair, hoping that it was soothing her. He could easily feel the heat radiating off of her and hoped that her fever would break soon.

“Thank you for coming home for me, dad,” she whispered after they’d been laying there for some time. He thought she’d fallen asleep with how still she was laying. Turns out she was just very comfortable and content cuddled into his side.

“You’re welcome, princess,” he responded, kissing the top of her head before resting his chin atop it.

————

A soft creaking woke Tommy some hours later. He blinked several times to reorient himself with the now dark room before realizing that the sound was Thea’s bedroom door opening. A slight glance downward confirmed that she was still laying in the bed, still cuddled into his side.

“How is she?” (Y/N) asked in a tone that was just above a whisper.

“Not as warm as she used to be. Her fever might’ve broken,” he answered, also in a low tone so that he wouldn’t wake her.

“Maybe she’ll be alright to sleep the night?” his wife suggested.

“Maybe,” he agreed, slowly starting to move from her side so that he could get off of the bed.

Thea wasn’t having that though. The second he started to move, she let go of Mr. Spots and gripped onto Tommy’s arm. “Don’t leave me, daddy,” she pleaded, trying her best to scoot closer to him again.

“I won’t leave you, Thea,” he told her, stopping his motions and getting comfortable on the bed again.

Tommy slept in Thea’s bed that night. Sure it was smaller than the bed he was used to, but he didn’t mind it. The eldest Shelby girl was always like this when she was under the weather. Though he hated the fact that she was sick, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed spending his time curled up in bed with her, hoping that his presence would help her to feel better.

———

Read more of the Girl Dad!Tommy series — HERE.

Check out my Main Masterlist — HERE.

———

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @littlepeakydevil @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee

@dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @everythingelseisextra

@little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

@novashelby @wonderlanddreamer

[bloggerspam]

"I'm an engineer Tuck," Danny stresses as they walk through the entrance of Wayne Enterprises, "not a chemist!"

"Technically," Tucker's grin oozes confidence as he signs Danny in, smiling at the receptionist. "this is still within the purview of civil engineering."

"I know this is a hard concept for you, a literal certified genius, to grasp," Danny groans, rubbing a hand down his face in exasperation, "but just because it is technically within my purview does not mean I can work miracles for you."

"You excel in all things science!" Tucker argues, miming a cylindrical form with his hands. "You did a bunch of experiments with ecto didn't you? I know you and your mom developed some batteries out of it a couple of times."

"That's different." Danny hisses, taking the badge being handed to him and following Tuck into an elevator. "Ecto is 60% death magic, 20% physical decomposition, and 20% mysterious liquid."

"Which," Tucker smugly points out, pressing buttons that Danny doesn't care to keep track of. "is basically a hop skip and a jump away from building fortifying paint!"

Danny groans, but doesn't answer as he watches the numbers crawl up.

"You owe me, Danny." Tucker's face goes serious now, a little hurt even. "I miss you, man. What happened to platonic soulmates? I haven't been accused of being gay in months. You can't do this to me in June!"

That gets Danny to laugh, Tucker grinning in triumph before pouting.

"You're here all the time as Phantom," Tucker needles, guilt tripping him in a way he definitely learned from Ellie. "Plus, don't lie. You know you can do this. You do seven impossible things before breakfast, you can do one miracle for your best friend."

"Butchering an Alice in Wonderland quote will not make me believe I can do this." Danny tiredly smiles. "But fine. Fine. I'm here, aren't I? I still think Miriam was a better fit—"

"That's your opinion." Tucker scoffs, before beaming so wide Danny can probably count each tooth. "Now you can't escape from me—Sam's gonna be so jealous."

"Sam should have thought of that before going off to save the world." Danny scoffs, though he does feel a pang at the mention of their other best friend. He should call her, after this. "Doesn't she know I'm only part-time now?"

"Oh she knows." Tucker turns sly, which rings alarm bells in Danny's head. "All hero exploits are being monopolized by Darcy and his team."

Danny splutters, much to Tucker's amusement. "I work for the government!"

"And they only ever send you over to Darcy's team. Your point?" Tucker raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning a cheek on his hand. "How's that going by the way?"

Danny goes quiet. "…I've been, I guess. Trying to figure out how I feel about him still. He hasn't really called me all that much since…"

"The cuddlefest of the century?" Tucker finishes, grinning. "Which I'm still jealous of, by the way. You only ever cuddle me in bed."

"Why is it that, in a friend group comprised of most of my exes," Danny sighs, "You're the one who flirts with me the most?"

"I wanna be part of the club, Danny." Tucker whines exaggeratedly. "Danny's 4 evil exes is a way better group chat name. Rolls off the tongue more."

"You're straight." Danny smiles, helplessly humored at the old joke. "We've been through this."

"I could stand to kiss my homies good night more often." Tucker waggles his eyebrows. "Sam should thank me for prepping you."

"Our kiss didn't even last three seconds." Danny deadpans. "I hope you have more faith in my skills than that."

"Oh believe me, I've heard all about it in the group chat" Tucker rolls his eyes. "It really makes you wonder why Darcy holding your hand gets you so hot and bothered."

"Did I mention how much I hate that nickname you guys have given him?" Danny groans, burying his face in his hands. "I liked it better when you were trying to make me do impossible things."

"Poor baby." Tucker mocks as the elevator dings. He leads Danny over to a lab, where a couple of people are milling about. Some are actively working on experiments, some are recording, some can be seen testing the material in the next room over through a large glass wall. "Welcome to your temporary cave, I expect to see you no less than every night for dinner."

"For a straight guy you sure ask me out to dinner a lot." Danny huffs, knowing Tucker means it as a preventative measure to make sure Danny doesn't overwork.

"Thin ice, Fenton." Tucker threatens, jabbing a finger into the center of his chest. "We will not be repeating the STAR Labs debacle of 2022."

"What happened in 2022?" A voice cuts in, amusement laced through. They turn around to see a man in a three piece suit, lightly covered by a lab coat with safety goggles perched on top of his black hair. Danny's seen this guy's face on magazine covers since he was a kid .

"Danny is a workaholic, Tim." Tucker narrows his eyes. "Gets all hyperfixated. Sure sounds familiar, huh?"

Tim Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises, chuckles uncomfortably. "Ah. Is that why you're so skilled in handling my bad habits?"

"You don't know the half of it. Tim, this is Danny Fenton, the engineer I was telling you about." Tucker gestures between the men. "Danny, this is Tim Drake-Wayne."

"Pleased to meet you," Tim smiles, and it's a nice smile, one that isn't camera ready and more grounded. Humble. "Please, call me Tim."

"Nice to meet you Tim, call me Danny." Danny shakes the man's hand, firm grip. Danny absently wonders if seeing the man grow up via paparazzi photos makes someone feel so familiar.

"I'll admit, we focused priority on chemists and the like." Tim tilts his head, "But I realize now that an engineer should have been involved a lot sooner. It's been easier to see the applications in the testing once we got Abigail involved."

"Abigail being one of our WE engineers." Tuck explains, gesturing to the woman in the testing room intently painting some kind of brick. "You're going to be hopping into her team to bounce ideas off of. With your experience in biochemical materials, I was hoping you could be the go-between for the engineers and the chemists."

"High hopes." Danny drawls. "No pressure or anything."

"From what I've seen of your projects at STAR Labs," Tim chimes in with a charming albeit tired smile, "They're well founded hopes."

"Most of that is my team." Danny scratches the back of his head, shrugging with a shy smile. "But enough about that. Show me where I'm working."

"Happily," Tim grins, a little more alert. Danny bids Tucker goodbye as his best friend excuses himself to work on his own projects.

Tim takes him around the lab, introducing him to the team and leaving him to it after he hands Danny his own personal tablet with all the project files loaded up into it.

It's different from his STAR Labs one, of course, but the OS functions in the same way. It's user friendly, with a bunch of handy apps Danny can't wait to get into.

The team is lovely, and the project is fascinating. Danny is, as he's said before, far from a chemist but the molecular composition of the paint makes Danny itch to get back in his parents' lab.

He hasn't played with ectoplasm since they got Frostbite involved, and it became less lab time with parents and more check Phantom is healthy via nagging masquerading as ethical experimentation.

His late teens were a mess of his parents worrying too much about Phantom's well being, and Frostbite worrying too much about Danny's well being.

Danny doesn't like to think about it.

Overall, the day goes by in a blur of names, files, and onboarding documents so that PR can write an article about the collaboration between WE and SL.

"Good first day?" Tim's voice causes Danny to blink out of the calculations he's been running. Math has always been his worst subject, despite needing it for basically every facet of his job. "I hope WE has been treating you well. Don't want STAR Labs to file a complaint about how we treat one of their top engineers."

"It was great." Danny beams, excited to get into the nitty gritty. He had his doubts, but Abigail has been extremely helpful and friendly, so Danny's mostly just fascinated. "I'll be sure to leave a 5 star review when I get back to my lab."

"We take tips too." Tim jokes, causing Danny to laugh. "I wanted to come by and personally thank you for agreeing to joining this team. This project is important to Bruce and I, and Tucker was insistent that you were integral to figuring out the mythical solution."

"I'm not sure about integral, but I'm happy to help regardless." Danny smiles, gathering his things and getting ready to leave. "Plus, who wouldn't say no to working in the same building as your best friend?"

"True!" Tim chuckles. walking with Danny as they leave the lab. The younger man bids everyone a personal goodbye, and though Danny doesn't need to shadow him as he does so, somehow he feels compelled to do so.

Something about the younger man makes Danny feel like this project is very important to him. Call it intuition, but Tim looks ragged and anxious. Throughout the day he's been coming in and out of the lab, checking in on people and hovering—like this project might be his last chance at something.

"Why this project in particular?" Danny asks as they walk towards the elevator. "Why is it so important I mean. If you don't mind my asking."

Tim ponders Danny's sudden question good-naturedly, seems to think about what he can say. Danny's written an NDA about anything Wayne Enterprises related but he's a virtual stranger, and Tim's only talked to him for about 10 minutes collectively.

But Danny knows that sometimes a stranger's the best person to talk to.

"My brother is on the project." Tim bites his lip, thinks his words through. "He's had a rough patch these past couple of years, and this project could directly help him. Bruce and I…we want to help, is all."

"That's nice of you." Danny hums, not quite sure why Tim would feel so anxious about a single project when he runs a successful multi-billion dollar company. "I'm sure your brother appreciates the hard work you're putting into his project."

"That's the hope, at least." Tim scratches as his cheek, looking away. "And I mean—it's nice that I can see him in the building sometimes."

"Don't see him often?" Danny ventures sympathetically. "I get it. My sisters and I barely get to see each other these days."

"Yeah," Tim awkwardly smiles, looking nothing like those magazine covers. "It's been a while. He avoids family dinners like the plague."

Tim tries to make it sound like a joke, to play it off.

The way he fidgets and looks faintly hurt by it tells Danny it's far from something to laugh about.

"You're talking about Jason Todd." Danny realizes, finally connecting the dots. "Park Row is where he's from isn't he?"

Tim blinks, just in time for the elevator to ding as it arrives. "Not many people know about that."

"Don't tell Tucker," Danny grins as they hop in. "But I know a lot about you Waynes because he's been wanting to work here since we were kids."

That makes Tim laugh, before he mimes zipping his lips. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Keep this one for me too," Danny focuses on the numbers slowly dwindling down. "I saw the articles about him, about what he went through. It's not quite the same, lord knows that gossip mags aren't going to be accurate, but I know what it feels like."

"Know what…." Tim pauses. clears his throat. "how what feels like?"

"To come back completely changed, only for everyone else to be frozen in time." Danny smiles, but it hurts. "It's not easy, bouncing back. Especially when everyone keeps searching for the kid from before, even though that kid died."

The elevator dings. Danny steps out, smile melting into a softer one when he sees Tuck by the front doors waiting. Something about the Waynes…it makes Danny a little more open, like they need it.

The way their hurt tastes in the air…it reminds him of Hood. In some ways, it reminds him of the Outlaws, even the JL Dark.

It reminds him of the other heroes too, the people working in the hospitals, the officers on the streets, the volunteers who have seen things.

Wayne Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar company working to help even a little bit of a city like Gotham?

Yeah, he can understand. He's understood since he was fourteen.

"I'll do my best here, Tim." Danny meets the man's eyes, and can see the grief, see that he understands what Danny's actually saying. "I'm sure he's doing his best too. New beginnings are tough that way."

Tim nods, looking pensive as the elevator doors shut close.

Danny walks on with a little bit of hope in his step, towards the oldest friend he's ever known.

A comfort and reminder all at once.

Dear Darcy...

Another AU borne from the HHD server--Touch-starved DoM with identity shenanigans. Follow here on AO3!

===

It isn't until well into their acquaintanceship that Jason notices something odd about Phantom.

That's not exactly true—Jason noticed it on their third mission together in a passing thought, but decided to not care about it on account of all the bullets and daggers being thrown at him and his team at the time.

Phantom is an ally, of sorts. A consult, perhaps, Jason doesn't really know.

It's hard to really say when they still don't really know what he does.

Though, again, that's not exactly true—Jason supposes it's more accurate to say they still don't really know what he can't do.

They go to him when the supernatural is involved, introduced to them via Zatanna when Jason expressed an adamant dislike of needing to ask JL Dark for anything (needing to ask Bruce for anything).

The ghost, a big name in the so called Realms world, is friendly and happy to help most of the time. He's a delight to work with in Jason's book, seeming to use his so-called ghost sense to read the room empathically—filling in the spaces when the quiet is too dark for the team, trailing behind silent as a shadow when even breathing is too loud, staying mostly out of the way and chiming in when necessary.

It helps that if shit hits the fan, Phantom can do something about it—it helps that that's the only time Phantom will ever butt in.

The Outlaws, Jason, is still to raw to handle playing nice, but Phantom makes it easy.

Phantom makes it effortless.

It makes Jason's gut roil in ways he's not sure how to deal with, beyond shooting it.

Either way, Jason, Red Hood, isn't supposed to be here in the Realms.

It's not that he's not allowed, per say, it's just that he wasn't exactly invited to this particular corner and Jason's a Bat, sure, but even he knows the supernatural have rules.

Jason was trying to summon Phantom for a quick mission, an in and out kind of deal that may or may not have had a cult involved in it that made Jason a little leery.

Except the summons was denied, which can happen sometimes when Phantom is busy.

Only instead of the circle simply going dark, like usual, Jason got pulled in instead.

So now he's here, in what he assumes to be Phantom's lair.

It's nice, the lair, if a little dark and mood-lighted. It has a dome-like structure, with stars and constellations all over like a planetarium. There's even one of those big ass telescopes peeking out the roof like one, though it seems to only point outwards towards the green of the Realms. Symbolic, or decorative in nature.

There's bookshelves of astrology and astronomy and all sorts of science and space related things littered throughout the shelves. Every now and then the stacks of books are interrupted with some kind of LEGO space creation, or a miniature of a rocket, or some of those weird weapons Phantom sometimes pulls out.

There's a work area, neat and messy at the same time, with a work table and a large toolbox drawer set. Metal detritus is piled neatly next to it, a project or two laid out under a heavy dark blue cloth on the table to keep it from getting dusty or be moved around if Jason has to guess.

In another area, there's living room-like space with a big monitor and beanbags and soft chairs surrounding it, typical of a college dorm room-esque gaming set up. Just beside it there's a large computer that hums softly, a picture of a female werewolf acting as a screensaver.

In yet another, there's a gathering of plants of many varieties growing this way and that. Jason spots a couple he recognizes from his run-ins with Pamela, and spots a copious amount of plants he doesn't recognize of this Earth. Ghost plants, he's assuming, from the glow of them.

There is even, curiously, one of those "at-home" basketball games that can fold away reminiscent of the ones you can see at the arcade with a couple miniature basketballs. Beside it, some kind of sleek mechanical looking surfboard rests against the wall in metallic reds and black with another toolbox set hidden just behind where it leans.

The kitchen area has a fridge that's absolutely covered in magnets from all over the world, a picture in crayon that is disconcertingly good pinned up here or there signed by someone named Ellie.

And then, of course, the main draw at the center of the room: a bed of sorts, stacked with pillows and blankets and assorted plushies of varying sizes.

Buried within is Phantom himself, huddled up in a nest of pillows and breathing heavy, angelic face flushed green the way a human would in fever. Jason, for the first time since meeting the halfa, truly wonders extensively how much the he isn't telling them.

Which brings Jason back to the odd thing.

Well, the odd thing that Jason is focusing on right now:

Phantom, contrary to his self-proclaimed ghostly nature, is very solid.

More than that, he's very, utterly, alive.

It's all the more apparent when Jason takes off one of his gloves to feel Phantom's forehead, the way Bruce would when Jason was Robin.

The way Jason wishes he could with his family.

Jason realizes, with the kind of starkness that comes from a photo flipbook of memories cascading through him, that he's never touched Phantom before. Not skin to skin or outside of a spar, and never like this.

He realizes, as the pocket book extends to not just him but his team-mates as well, that Phantom's never touched anyone before.

Always hovering just 6 feet away, like quarantine.

Like the depth of a grave.

Phantom is not quite hot to the touch, as Jason expects he would be. He had suspected a fever, of a sort. But he supposes it makes sense that a ghost would run cold, considering.

In the first place, Jason's not sure what possessed him to touch the ghost—he doesn't even have a baseline temperature to compare to so there's no real point.

He's not sure what possessed him to think this was okay, touching an ally like this without consent.

Not when his touch has never been welcomed, especially not when he's Red Hood.

He's just about to pull his hand away, careful not to wake the ghost, when Phantom starts to purr.

It rattles through him, like it's not used to being let out, as Phantom nuzzles at the tips of Jason's fingers.

As if Jason's touch was wanted, as if it comforts the ghost, as if Phantom wants nothing more.

As if this very hand didn't burn buildings to the ground, didn't shoot men into the fathoms, didn't carry bloody duffle bags, didn't fucking hurt hurt hurt.

Jason withdraws his hand carefully, gliding as gently as he can manage, breathing slow and deep.

He's been trained bloody enough to know pulling back in knee-jerk reaction can give things away.

He does not want Phantom to know he touched him.

Jason puts his glove back on, tight and unforgiving, and steps back.

He flexes his hand once, twice. Shakes it, before forcefully relaxing every muscle, trying to melt away the cold traces of Phantom's skin on his.

He clears his throat once, twice a little harsher, until Phantom mewls and blinks glowing green eyes up at him. His gaze is hazy with fever, soft like feathers, child-like in confusion.

And here, another odd thing Jason has not noticed until now:

When did Phantom's Lazarus green eyes become comforting?

When did Phantom's watery green eyes become forgiving?