#i want people to see anon's big brain

[shizunitis]

Do you know any SVSSS blogs u would recommend following? I'm thinking of making a SVSSS focused blog & ur the only person i follow atm that posts this content HAHA

why would you need anyone else?? what the fuck anon why would you betray me like this

[xazse]

hiii pookie I LOVED your hybrid post like it got me foaming from the mouth ngl 🫶 you're so talented!!

If you're into it, can we get cowhybrid! reader and Farmer!Gojo specifically please and thank you? I need to see the reader all needy and desperate and Gojo being the only one who can truly give her release and and what she truly needs (feel free to remix or add anyone/anything that you please)

If you're not into it, please ignore this ask instead of refusing because I get embarrassed hihi🎀🫶 anyways mwah mwah love u take care pookie

ANOTHER TRY?

Notes: THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED MY WORK!!! and to the second ask I’m very happy you requested that bull!hybrid work lLOVEDDD WORKING ON IT!! You guys are so creative I need to eat ur brain!!! THIS IS FOR ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR A PT2 I SEE YOU GUYS!!! (IF UR READING THIS TO MY OTHER INBOX OFC YOU CAN BE 🪬 ANON!!)

Pairings: CowHybrid!Reader x Farmer!Gojo

Warnings: Lactation + big!boobedReader + implied chubby!reader + nipplesucking + grinding + mean!Satoru + pussy!slapping + teasing.

Gojo has spoiled you for far too long it makes his blood boil and temples wrinkle when you continue to go see Toji and Suguru, it becomes a habit for you to come back in the early mornings after having a night of “fun.”

Confronting said men proved to be so fucking useless, they just laughed in his face when he said he’d kick both of them to the curb should they continue to corrupt you.

“You need us Satoru, why are you allowed to have your nightly routines but she cant? It was gonna happen eventually.” Tojis face was decorated with a fat sneer, all those times he tried to make sure you stayed as far as possible were all for naught, it’s hilarious seeing him seething behind a cool facade.

“Never knew what Toji seen in the woman but now I completely understand his point.” Suguru yelled from where he was transporting some wood.

Talking to them proved to be useless, as a little payback he made them clean the shed from top to bottom.

Trudging back to the main house in his thick boots Satoru comes to face you relaxing on the couch without a damn care in the world.

Why is he trying to get them to be on his level when he should be punishing you, you’re the one who didn’t listen, you’re the one sneaking out every night. He doesn’t know why he feels this hold on you, you’re such a beautiful girl that he can’t help but keep you in this small bubble.

When your eyes land on him you don’t say any kind of greeting, simply ignoring his presence for the movie on the huge ass tv he bought for you and eating the expensive food he bought for you.

You look extremely good right now, your fat boobs not swollen, but your pretty lips are. Satoru won’t say it but his pants tighten at the thought of what they do to you.

He needs you right now, he’ll make it up to you as much as he can.

He approaches you calmly and collected, sitting down at the edge of the couch where your legs are propped up, you still don’t acknowledge him. His trained hands start circling on your soft supple skin, you surprisingly don’t push him away. You give Satoru an inch he’ll take a mile.

He starts groping your thighs, the pudgy things hold within the creases of his hand. He pushes your thighs apart and gets a good look at your panties: you always choose to walk around the house like this.

They’re extra tight the way they emphasize your fat pussy, the groan that slips from his lips aren’t-something he tries to hold back, he needs you to know how much he wants you, especially wants you all to himself.

The rise and fall of your chest makes you look so cute, why are you so shy all of a sudden? You’re averting your eyes as well.

Satoru starts teasing your clothed folds, dragging his thick finger up and down, he pushes extra hard on your clit eliciting a small moan from you. He continues this for a little, he needs you wet to take him properly.

He peels off your soddened panties and positions himself above you, finally face to face with you. Your boobs are the first thing he attacks, pulling on your shirt and letting them spill out, the little droplets of milk call to him. He’s grabbing one and putting it into his mouth: he loves your taste so sweet like honey as it cascades down his throat so smoothly.

“Nghm… Toru..” finally you’ve decided to grace him with your sultry voice.

He bites down a little on your nipple making you jump away. He reels you right back in and sucks even harsher, there’s barely any milk left but he’s going to make sure he gets his full.

“Toru.” You call his name so panicked and yet you’re grinding against his fully hard cock. He’s so desperate in the moment that he unbuckles his belt and lets his cock bob free.

His fat tip prods agaisnt your folds, messing with your sticky wetness, he smears it on his tip even grinding down on your clit, but he doesn’t put it in, you don’t deserve that.

He teases you, pretending he’s going to give you what you want just to take it all away.

“Please…” a harsh and loud smack is delivered straight to your clit, you yelp and buckle your legs closed.

“Shirt, take your shirt off.” He commands, of course you’re gonna listen, Satoru has never taken that tone with you.

Your boobs now freely spill for him to gaze at. He spreads your legs back open.

“I’m gonna give you ten slaps, close your legs for even one I’m restarting. Understood?” You nod and your ears move along with it. He likes this look on your face: confusion, arousal and a little bit of fear.

On the first slap you make the mistake of shutting your legs closed: completely an accident but he’s having none of it, he hits your little clit again and again.

“Ahn..” you’re still so fucking wet by the sixth slap, creating a nasty mess that drips to your ass. Gojo’s cock is still throbbing, he jerks himself off, smearing his pre all over.

By the tenth slap you’re gone, completely dazed and only able to whine outloud, he decides that you’ve had enough with the tears that sit on your eye line. He pushes your legs back and lines his weeping tip. The feeling of sliding into your sopping wet cunt is better than any pussy he’s ever had.

His strokes against you are fast even though he should be letting you adjust, the sounds of skin against skin meeting each other is downright lewd.

He tells you to rub your nipples, it adds so much more stimulation that you can’t find it in you to hate it.

His cock drags agaisnt your walls over and over, till you can’t feel anything but the sensitivity of your nipples and the twitching of his fat cock.

He fucks you like that all night, even when you’re meant to meet Toji and Suguru, you can’t stop creaming around farmer Gojos length and nor do you want to.

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 1/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: hi friends !! wow, been a hot min since i wrote something of this caliber. feels good to be back in biz ;D did you all miss persephone! suguru? because there's a LOT of him here >_< i really wanted to publish this as a oneshot but....tumblr hates me so now it's gonna be a chaptered series! oh , joy! ps @nappingmoon i got u bae, this one is for you.

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you never really set out to be the face of smut-lit. 

in fact, you weren’t even really a face at all — just a “faceless” author penning scandalous stories for fans who devoured them, and haters who, well… tried to eat you alive.

you’d started out innocently enough, scribbling down your little fantasies and tropes that no self-respecting romance book would touch. then one day, a friend dared you to post one on booktok. 

you thought, "fuck it" and uploaded a snippet of your latest brainchild: a steamy billionaire x star-crossed chef fic called hunger games: not that kind of hungerer. it was, admittedly, extra spicy. 

and oh, did the internet have thoughts.

soon, your comments section and dm’s became a battleground for all opinions on “what qualifies as literature.” gems included:

who even writes this crap? did a middle schooler steal her mom’s laptop? i can feel my brain cells self-destructing as i read this 💀 girl hasn’t even been within a mile radius of a dick and it SHOWS

you'd had to admit… the last comment was right. but hey, they only added to the fuel. 

like moths to a flame, they kept coming back, and the trolling just made your followers skyrocket. a lot of people secretly liked the outrageousness, the drama, and the absolute audacity of it all. before long, your books were trending, and you were raking in numbers (and dollars) most “serious” authors could only dream of.

soon, you found yourself the subject of headlines you never thought you’d see:

the faceless queen of spice: how one unknown author is reshaping romance. trolled online, loved in secret—author sells millions in ebook downloads. social media says she has no idea what she’s talking about, but her bank account says otherwise.

and the kicker?

you’d never had sex with anyone, let alone…well, rocked worlds like your characters. 

here you were, a smut writer with zero real-life experience, who’d single-handedly created booktok’s, bookstagram and hell, even the people down at twitter's guilty pleasure.

but the day big publishers started knocking on your door, it was surreal, to say the least. 

you’d been fully prepared for the anonymous online fame — hell, you’d leaned into it, posting “faceless author life” videos and doing question and answer sessions where you dropped zero identifying details, save for some vague hand gestures and blurred-out backgrounds. but now, major publishing houses wanted in on the action.

“we think your stories have broad market appeal,” one exec had said on a zoom call, trying to make “billionaire mafia love quadrangle” sound dignified. “if we could get them on shelves, we’d reach an audience beyond booktok. international appeal is the goal here!”

suddenly, your filthy, albeit occasionally cringey, tales were going global. they got translated into french (where your enemies-to-lovers series got a fancy new title: l’amour et la haine). your spicy chef saga was reborn in italian as sapore di te, which roughly translated to taste of you (and made you blush, honestly). 

and when your personal favorite, the billionaire’s forbidden touch, hit the japanese market, they titled it 禁断の夜 (which… you didn’t even want to know the translation of, because you knew it was even worse than the original).

you had to admit, though, seeing these books spread worldwide made your head spin. what started as a joke online was now somehow sitting next to classics in international bookstores, becoming a hot commodity for fans everywhere.

but the cherry on top? 

oh, that came when you opened an email from none other than gojo-sonic, the world-renowned audio company best known for its highly specialized audiobook recordings. they’d taken smut literature to the next level, hiring voice actors who sounded like they were in the room with you, all breathy whispers and seductive baritones. people had raved that these audiobooks were “too real” — like they’d been recorded in a closed room with dim lights and a whole lot of… commitment.

they offered you a multi-million dollar deal to turn your books into experiences.

one of your friends, absolutely losing it, texted you as soon as they heard the news:

homegirl [5:21 pm]: “OMG OMG so you’re gonna do it right?? u realize this means ppl will be hearing ur lil virgin brain’s fantasies out loud in their headphones right” you [5:21 pm]: “no kidding. i’m freaking out. this feels illegal.” homegirl [5:22 pm]: “but u gotta!! pls this is ICONIC.” you [5:24 pm]: “they’re giving me millions. you think i’m saying no? lmao.”

it still felt surreal that soon, the whole world would hear your books come to life with professional voice actors — ones who knew exactly how to tease and breathe and make listeners feel like they were right there.

“bring my fantasies to life, huh?” you muttered to yourself, flipping through the contract that would secure your financial future, all because of your fictional men and their, uh, moves. 

who the hell were you to say no to that?

it was surreal enough to get an email from gojo-sonic, but now, sitting across from the ceo himself, gojo satoru, you were starting to wonder if this whole experience was some fever dream.

the man was stunning in an obnoxious, immaculate way. snowy hair, piercing blue eyes, and sunglasses balanced on his head like a headband. and, okay, you had to admit: it was a little weird that he’d named his company after himself — though, frankly, it just fit.

you tried not to laugh when he introduced himself. gojo satoru, ceo of gojo-sonic. the narcissism was off the charts, but so was his charm. as a quick google search before the meeting had revealed, gojo sonic had an impeccable reputation, and there was apparently not a single scandal tied to its name.

“nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand and trying to keep your cool. “kinda surprised a guy is running a… company like this. no offense.”

“none taken!” he replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “if i’m honest, i’m probably the last guy anyone would expect here. but,” he shrugged, “it works. my employees say i’m a ‘girl’s girl,’ whatever that means.”

the way he said it so nonchalantly made you smirk. apparently, the term wasn’t a throwaway nickname, either; the gojo-sonic gossip mill painted him as the absolute dream boss. rumor had it he’d given his whole office a free day off because his assistant had been dumped, and when a writer complained about unisex bathrooms making her uncomfortable, he’d personally had a “feminine touch” added to every single stall, complete with pink hand soap and luxurious lotions. he was kind, considerate, a man who just got it.

“people say i’m probably gay,” he added, laughing as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “and you know what? let ‘em think what they want.” he gave you a wink. “as long as they keep buying the goods, i couldn’t care less.”

honestly? the guy made a point. did it matter who he was taking home at the end of the day? not at all, as long as your bank account kept racking up zeros.

“speaking of,” he continued, “we’ve got the full studio ready for tomorrow. you’ll meet the voice actors, go over a few sections, and give input as needed. think of it like a live theater production, except it’s your book.”

“oh, i get to… watch them record?” you asked, wondering how mortifying it might be to sit there, watching actors give their all to lines like, “you’re mine tonight, darling.” 

yeah, you’d written it, but watching someone breathe life into it was a different level of… embarrassment.

“even better,” gojo grinned, looking far too amused by your nervousness, “you’ll get to guide them. they’ll take direction from you — however you want the line delivered, that’s how they’ll say it.”

“you mean i can… like… make suggestions? on delivery?”

“exactly!” he said with a small clap. “we want it to be perfect. i’ve already arranged for our top voice actor, toji fushiguro, to voice your main character.”

toji fushiguro?

if gojo-sonic was the industry’s top company, toji was the crown jewel of voice acting. the guy was a legend. 

he had that smoky, velvet tone that could turn a mundane grocery list into a full-on romance scene. he was also notoriously elusive; some people waited months to get him to even consider their projects. and you — the virgin author who’d stumbled into fame thanks to trolls and booktok — had him voicing your main character?

“wait, toji fushiguro is doing this?” you asked, jaw practically on the floor.

gojo chuckled, looking far too pleased with your reaction. “yep! i think you two are going to work great together. he’s intense but flexible; really good at taking feedback.”

you tried to imagine giving feedback to toji fushiguro of all people. 

“um, maybe say ‘you’re mine’ with more… conviction?” 

“can you sound a bit more possessive on that line?”

“i, uh…” you managed, trying to swallow your nerves. “okay. yeah. sounds… good.”

“great! i think you’ll be amazed. toji’s professionalism is unmatched, and he’ll bring exactly the level of…” Gojo paused, grinning, “intensity you need to really make your character come to life.”

“good luck tomorrow! i’ll make sure everything’s set up perfectly,” gojo had assured you with a big grin as you left the office. “don’t stress about a thing. our identities are always kept top secret here. toji’s included! he’s never done a face reveal, and your privacy is just as ironclad.”

oh god. tomorrow, you were really going to sit there while toji fushiguro acted out lines you’d written on a whim in your pajamas.

sure, not stressing sounded like a logical plan. but after that surreal conversation — and the realization that tomorrow morning, you’d be face-to-face with the one and only toji fushiguro, hearing him breathe life into your raunchiest fantasies — you did what any responsible, mature adult would do.

you headed straight to the nearest bar and got sloshed.

by the time you were three cocktails deep, the reality of tomorrow’s “firsts” hit you like a ton of bricks. first real direction on an audiobook, first time meeting a voice actor, first time dealing with your own steaminess out loud, and — oh god — the cherry on top, it was toji fushiguro himself.

sure, you thought, sipping from your fourth drink and trying not to scream as lana del rey sings “it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you,” i might be slightly freaking out.

another cocktail slid your way. you squinted, unsure if you'd ordered it or if the bartender was just reading your general mood, because yeah, you did look like someone who needed another round.

“tough night?”

“tough tomorrow.” you swirled your drink, laughing to yourself. “i mean… you ever written a, uh, totally inappropriate novel and had to watch a famous guy turn it into audio?”

“…can’t say that i have.”

you shrugged, downing a bit more of the drink, when the song on the speakers switched to avril lavigne’s complicated. fitting, given that your life had just become exactly that.

“why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” avril sang, like she knew.

the bartender, apparently used to the types who showed up for existential crises alone, leaned against the counter. “sounds like big stuff tomorrow, then. what kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“oh, just… smutty novels,” you said, letting it slip before you could stop yourself. “just… page after page of absolutely shameless, absurd filth. and now i’m, y’know, supposed to direct the guy. to make it sound like he’s really, um, in the moment.”

the bartender chuckled, raising a brow. “sounds intense.”

“you have no idea.” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “he’s this insanely talented voice actor. i mean, they’ve got toji fushiguro in there, which is like… god. if he knew who i actually was, he’d probably laugh.”

why’d you have to go and make things so complicated? avril continued wailing, her words your accidental anthem.

“well, whatever happens,” the bartender said, passing you a glass of water with a grin, “sounds like you’re about to have a pretty interesting morning.”

“i’ll drink to that,” you muttered, clinking your cocktail glass against the water. you downed it, hoping that somehow, it might chase the nerves away.

and as everytime we touch, i get this feeling started blasting on the speakers, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a groan. if there was a playlist made for romantic embarrassment, it was definitely playing tonight.

in your half-sloshed state, it seemed like a good idea to turn to the stranger who’d just sauntered up to the bar — a ridiculously hot stranger, tall with dark hair, and a scar slashing right across his lip. it was the kind of look that would’ve inspired an entire chapter in one of your books, but as of right now? it was just inspiring some truly regrettable choices.

“goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” you muttered to yourself, just loud enough to catch his attention, which felt smooth, in your totally buzzed opinion. so, of course, you swung around on your stool, plastering on what you hoped was an alluring smile.

oh god, here we go. “hey there, handsome…” you paused, hiccuping “… you come here often?”

the stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, leaning an elbow against the bar with a smirk that could kill. “depends,” he said, voice low and rough. “you, uh, always this friendly after a few drinks?”

oh god. 

oh god. 

but you couldn’t stop now. 

you were committed. 

you were bold. 

with all the poise of a drunk giraffe, you propped your elbow on the bar and leaned in closer, pointing a finger at his chest — totally unintentionally, because your depth perception was off by, oh, about a mile. “well, what can i say,” you replied, attempting a sultry grin. “good-lookin’ guys like you… don’t come around often enough, mister.”

“it’s like i’m drunk off your love,” played from the speakers, not helping your case at all. 

oh god, this was actually happening. 

he actually laughed, a warm, deep chuckle, as he watched you struggle through whatever pickup line was about to escape your lips.

he tilted his head, that smirk turning up a notch. “should i be flattered?”

“you should!” you exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “you’re like… i dunno, like one of my… you look like a… a fictional character.” 

smooth, real smooth.

“oh yeah?” his smirk widened. “so, what am i, a prince?”

“more like…” you bit your lip, trying to focus, “an antihero with a… tragic past and just enough softness in his heart to make him dangerous in all the right ways.”

he looked you up and down, bemusement clear in his eyes. “dangerous in the right ways? is that your type?”

you gave a shaky wink, nearly missing because the world was swimming a bit. “maybe.”

he chuckled, his voice all rich and velvety, and leaned in closer. “so… you’re here alone? i mean, besides all the fictional men you’re envisioning.”

“for now,” you replied, trying to sound mysterious, but it just came out as a bit… wobbly.

the bartender set the stranger’s drink down with a raised eyebrow, and he took a sip, watching you with amused interest. “you know, maybe you should slow down before you scare all the good guys away.”

“oh, trust me,” you replied, hiccuping again. “i don’t scare easy.”

he shook his head, clearly entertained, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze. you were about to continue — just as soon as the world stopped spinning — when you felt the slightest bit queasy, your stomach reminding you that you’d had one cocktail too many.

the stranger’s amused smirk softened. “you alright there?”

“i’m…” you swallowed. “perfectly fine. just, you know… making sure you’re… getting the full effect of my…” you barely managed the word “…rizz.”

he laughed outright this time, low and warm, like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were real. “is that so? lucky me.”

it was all going so well — okay, not well, but you were holding your own, kind of. you had him laughing, after all, which for someone with approximately zero charisma was an accomplishment! but then the first chords of firework by katy perry blared through the speakers, and as if on cue, your stomach decided to join in the grand finale.

“do you ever feel like a plastic bag,” katy crooned, but for you, it was more like a “do you ever feel like you’re about to ruin your night by barfing on a hot stranger?”

before you could process what was happening, the tequila-fueled fireworks decided to erupt all over this guy’s very expensive-looking shoes.

oh god. oh god.

you looked up, mortified, to find him staring down at his shoes, eyebrows raised. wow, would you look at the time? 

run.

“oh… oh no. i… i’m so sorry, i swear this never happens.”

he raised a brow, still looking somewhere between amused and horrified. “well, that’s… comforting?”

you grabbed a napkin, fumbling, still buzzing enough to not know if you should laugh, cry, or just make a run for it.

“guess that’s, uh, one way to make an impression,” he murmured, lips twitching in a smirk even as he assessed the disaster on his shoes.

“oh god. really, i’m… i’m so sorry.” you dabbed helplessly at his shoes with a cocktail napkin, somehow making things worse. “if it helps, i… i normally only vomit on hot guys.”

he chuckled, though you were sure it was mostly at you, and shook his head. “well, it’s one hell of an icebreaker.”

“baby, you’re a firework,” katy sang passionately in the background, but you were already ready to crawl under the bar and disappear forever.

you were surprised — actually, you were shocked — that the stranger hadn’t ditched you after the whole public-vomiting-on-his-shoes fiasco. instead, somehow, he was still right there, leaned in close and casually sipping his drink, just as much a mess as you were. hours had passed, and you’d been rambling about anything and everything, lost in an alcohol-fueled bubble that had turned the night into something you’d never have dreamed of.

maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the guy’s ridiculously calm attitude, but you’d opened up about your career, the absurdity of writing spicy novels as a faceless author, and even your terror about tomorrow. he’d listened with a smirk, offering the occasional snarky remark or grunt of approval. in return, he’d told you a bit about himself too — well, at least, you thought he did. at some point, the details got hazy.

“so, what do you do?” you asked, squinting at him like it was going to make his face stop swimming in your vision.

he shrugged, swirling his drink and giving a lopsided grin. “something kinda like… acting. you know, nothing glamorous.” there was a hint of amusement there, like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

you squinted harder, your mind pulling up images of random professions. “oh, so like… theater? or like, movies? or wait — commercials? are you one of those guys that has to pretend he’s in love with a bowl of soup?”

he let out a deep laugh, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “sure, something like that. though i’d like to think i’m a bit more convincing than a soup guy.”

you grinned, leaning in closer, your curiosity fully piqued despite your state. “convincing, huh? so you’re a good actor, then?”

“i do my best,” he said, voice low, that amused glint in his eye again.

“you have to be really good to make people believe in, like, totally unrealistic things, y’know?” you babbled, waving your hand. “like, imagine trying to voice —” you cut yourself off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you remembered why you’d gotten so sloshed in the first place. the irony of tomorrow, and how this entire conversation felt like it was straight out of one of your own stories.

but before you could get too in your head about it, he tilted his head, looking genuinely interested. “voice what? i’m curious, princess.”

princess. the nickname sent a bolt of something dangerously warm straight through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “oh, nothing…” you said, waving him off. “just, you know… the usual. people who… um, make people fall in love with their voice.”

“and what if i told you,” he leaned in even closer, smirking as if he’d just had the best idea ever, “that i could probably do that?”

you rolled your eyes, not believing him one bit. “oh really? think you could pull it off?”

“depends,” he said with a shrug. “what kinda character am i playing?”

you didn’t realize it, but you’d inched even closer, like you were hanging on his every word. “someone… someone rough around the edges,” you started, your voice dropping, completely lost in the moment, “but with a softness underneath. someone who could make the world stop with just a whisper…”

he smirked, eyes never leaving yours, and for a second, you felt like he was taking every word way too seriously. “i think i could manage that.”

you blinked, feeling a blush rise. 

this stranger had charisma — like, the kind of charisma you’d thought only existed in your characters. 

oh god, maybe you should write him into your next story. you shook yourself, blinking the daydreams away just as he started talking again.

“... and that’s why,” he was saying, “there’s a bit of an art to saying things just right. people think it’s all about the words, but it’s the way you say them that makes it real, y’know?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words as the room spun just a bit. “so you’re telling me, it’s all in the delivery?”

“exactly.” his gaze dropped to your lips, and he smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “even the… dirtiest lines sound good if you say ’em the right way.”

oh no. that dangerous warmth was back.

somewhere between his intense gaze and that slow, lopsided smirk, dancing queen by abba blared through the bar speakers, jarring you out of your tipsy trance. the upbeat, disco-infused rhythm filled the room, all but laughing at the “moment” you thought you were having with this too-hot-for-reality stranger.

was this a moment? or were you just ridiculously drunk? did he even have a name? or were you just too far gone to have bothered asking?

“you can dance, you can jive,” abba sang, practically mocking you as you stared, wide-eyed, at the man across from you, his scarred lip twisted in a little grin as he watched you piece it all together. he must��ve seen the dawning realization on your face, because he chuckled, reaching for his drink again.

“something wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning forward with a glint of amusement.

oh, great. i’ve already been promoted to ‘princess’ by a guy i might not know the name of. you were seconds away from facepalming.

“uh, nothing,” you said, waving a hand as casually as you could manage. “just, uh, thinking how ironic it is that dancing queen is playing while… we’re, you know…”

“... having a moment?” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“well,” you cleared your throat, cheeks blazing, “if you can call me drunkenly staring at you while abba serenades us a ‘moment.’”

“hey, it’s a solid soundtrack choice,” he replied, looking like he was suppressing a laugh. “besides, don’t pretend this isn’t kinda perfect.”

“you think dancing queen is perfect for this?”

he shrugged, sipping his drink. “come on, you’re hammered, i’m here keeping you company, and we’re both, what… living in the moment?” he quirked a brow, his smirk widening as he eyed you, like he was daring you to argue.

and then, maybe out of pure liquid courage, or maybe because the absurdity was too much, you laughed. “yeah, living the moment… with some guy whose name i don’t even know.”

“toji,” he said, offering his hand with a lazy grin, like he’d just handed you a secret.

“toji,” you echoed, shaking his hand. he held on for a second longer than necessary, his gaze never leaving yours.

 oh, this guy was trouble, and you were in so deep.

“and you?” he asked, still holding your hand.

you barely managed to whisper your name, but it came out like a sigh, and he repeated it back like it was something precious. “well then,” he said, smirking, “guess that makes two dancing queens tonight.”

“toji…” you muttered, the name slipping off your tongue again as you tried to place it. there was something familiar about it, like you’d heard it before, but in your tequila-drenched state, nothing was sticking. 

toji, toji… where had you heard that name?

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused as you stared at him like he was the world’s most frustrating puzzle. “something on your mind?”

“n-no,” you stammered, then immediately backpedaled. “wait, actually, yes. toji, right?”

he nodded, a playful gleam in his eye. “that’s the one.”

“toji… toji…” you repeated, squinting at him as if a clearer view would magically connect the dots. and then, it hit you — toji fushiguro. 

the voice actor who would be bringing your spicy, shamelessly dramatic main character to life. 

the same guy you were supposed to meet tomorrow, the guy who was probably used to making everyone’s knees buckle with just a whisper.

“no way…” you whispered, clutching your head, and you could practically feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. “you — you’re… that toji?”

he gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “what, surprised that i could be both hot and talented?”

you sputtered, trying to backtrack and failing miserably. “no! i mean, yes, but i just — tomorrow —  you’re… you’re the guy who’s voicing my main character?”

he leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the whirlwind of emotions he was putting you through. “didn’t think the universe would give you a sneak preview tonight, huh?”

your fuzzy brain struggled to compute this twist of fate. you were drunk, mortified, and beyond flustered, sitting in a bar with the man who’d soon be giving voice to all your filthy, shameless words. this was almost too much.

“oh my god,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i literally threw up on my main character’s shoes.”

toji let out a hearty laugh, patting your shoulder. “hey, if anything, i’d say it’s on-brand for the kind of night you’d write.”

just as you were processing the sheer, ridiculous insanity of the situation, a fresh wave of nausea hit you like a freight train. before you could even react, you leaned forward and… splattered the floor with a decidedly not-dignified stream of bile. this time, it was almost cinematic, complete with a dramatic gagging sound that had you doubling over.

you watched in horror as you once again spewed your insides onto the floor, narrowly missing toji’s shoes but definitely adding a new layer to the already mortifying scene. 

you’d probably just hit rock bottom.

“oh, god,” you groaned, covering your mouth with your hand as the bile burned your throat. “i swear… i’m not normally like this.”

toji chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he handed you a stack of napkins the bartender had generously supplied. “i’m starting to think i’m just a little too overwhelming for you, princess.”

you shot him a sheepish look as you wiped your mouth. overwhelming was an understatement. 

“yeah, maybe we can leave that out of tomorrow’s team introductions,” you mumbled, trying desperately to pull yourself together.

toji chuckled, tossing a few more napkins your way. “no judgment here. it’s a rough night for a first ‘meet-cute,’ but hey, you’re nothing if not memorable.”

you gripped the napkin, willing yourself to hold it together, at least until you could make a semi-dignified exit. “i don’t even want to know what story you’ll tell people about this.”

toji just laughed, completely unbothered, as if getting vomited on was a regular night for him. “don’t worry, i’ll keep it discreet.” his voice dipped, lowering to a murmur. “for a girl with secrets, i figure you’d appreciate that.”

he lifted his drink and gave you a small toast. “to first meetings — and unforgettable nights. and hey, maybe tomorrow, you’ll surprise me and keep it down.”

oh, god, you thought, as you attempted to bury yourself in your napkin. if only i could crawl under the bar and hide forever.

normally, you wouldn’t wake up with “dancing queen” stuck in your head, but as you nursed the remnants of a truly terrible hangover, it felt almost... pleasant? the upbeat melody cut through the fog of your brain, and you couldn’t help but hum along, even if the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of your embarrassing escapades from the night before.

“you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...”

wait, why dancing queen of all songs? you squinted at your alarm clock, your heart racing as the memories started flooding back like a poorly written rom-com. oh.

OH.

your eyes widened as you bolted out of bed with a speed that could make an olympic runner blush, frantically throwing on whatever clothes you could find — did you seriously still have a piece of glitter from last night stuck in your hair? gross! but no time for a shower; you had a meeting to get to at gojo-sonic, and you were about to meet — erm, remeet — toji fushiguro.

“ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...”

as the lyrics blared in your head like an incessant movie soundtrack, you dashed out the door, praying you’d catch a cab in time. the universe couldn’t possibly let you walk into this meeting looking like a hot mess — especially when your main character's voice was waiting on the other side.

“you’re a tease you turn ‘em on…leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone…”

you rolled your eyes at your own ridiculousness. who cared if you’d practically thrown up on the guy? all you had to do was survive your own personal dance-off with fate and hope toji didn’t remember the lovely little details from last night.

you took a deep breath, determined to channel all the confidence you could muster. today was going to be great. right?

as you walked into the meeting room, gojo practically huffed an air of relief. you couldn’t help but think it was a little dramatic — like, it’s just a meeting. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of your hangover and the lingering embarrassment of last night’s vomit-venture.

the room was brightly lit, filled with a few familiar faces, including toji, who was leaning casually against a table with that annoyingly charming grin plastered on his face. 

great. you’d somehow forgotten just how hot he was in the light of day. 

toji’s presence made your stomach flutter and flip, but you shoved that feeling down — this was business, after all.

you scanned the room and spotted gojo-sonic’s most valued investor suguru geto on a screen in the corner, his hair tied back and eyes sharp as he joined the meeting online. wow, great first impression! with a sudden wave of panic, you could almost hear the dancing queen lyrics mocking you in the back of your mind. what’s next, bursting into song?

“hey, look who finally made it!” toji said, amusement dancing in his eyes. perfect. if he was going to make light of your grand entrance, you had to think fast to steer the conversation away from the disaster that was last night.

“sorry for keeping you all waiting,” you replied, forcing a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced. “i had... a crazy night.”

toji raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “crazy night, huh? did you bring us any stories?”

you shot him a warning glance, your heart racing as you internally pleaded with him not to say anything that could ruin your career. thankfully, he just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back, letting the moment hang in the air without any revealing comments.

“i think we’d all like to hear that,” suguru said, his tone teasing as he adjusted the camera. “but let’s save the fun stuff for later, right? we’ve got work to do.”

you nodded, grateful for suguru’s timely intervention. “yes, absolutely! so, uh, about the voice work —”

the atmosphere shifted as the others exchanged knowing glances, and you knew you’d have to tread carefully. this meeting was crucial, and you couldn’t let last night’s incident derail everything you’d worked for. with any luck, maybe you could just keep your foot out of your mouth for the rest of the meeting.

toji always knew he was hot.

i mean, how could he not? 

with a jawline that could slice bread and a smirk that could charm the pants off anyone, confidence practically dripped off him like a cologne commercial. but the real question was: how to channel this hotness and turn it into something lucrative? great question! 

being a single dad to wasn’t easy, and running from odd job to odd job just to scrape enough money for the brat’s school was proving to be tiresome. until one day, a certain gojo satoru decided to drop a bombshell on him.

“toji, you ever think about using that voice of yours for something... more creative?” gojo asked, leaning back in his office chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“creative? what, like narrating my life as a sad single dad?” toji replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a page-turner.”

“no, no, hear me out!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing in his seat. “i’m talking about voice acting — specifically, erotic audiobooks. it’s the next big thing!”

toji blinked, momentarily stunned. “you mean to tell me that the former bouncer at an elite club would be voicing erotic audiobooks? saying those weird, cringey lines that women seem to love? you’re insane.”

“think about it! you have the looks, the voice, and the whole mysterious vibe down pat,” gojo urged, waving his hands dramatically. “besides, you need the cash, and i need someone to bring a little... heat to my company.”

“you really think people want to hear me read lines like, ‘take me, you wild beast?’” toji quipped, snorting.

fast forward to his first recording session, where everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck. toji was deep in character, delivering his best sexy voice when — bam! — the bathroom pipe exploded in his tiny flat.

“oh god, yes, just like that —” he started, voice dripping with sultry charm, when suddenly, a muffled splash! interrupted him, followed by megumi’s wail from the other room.

“dad! there’s water everywhere!”

toji cursed under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. “i’m coming! just... give me a second, i’m — ah, it’s getting so hot in here!” he struggled to continue, desperately trying to block out the chaos around him while the sounds of the pipe gushing water filled the audio.

but it turned out hormones took over the technical difficulties, because when the snippet was finally released, women and men of all ages were devouring it like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. it even went viral on tiktok, with cringe-worthy wannabes trying to recreate his sultry lines, failing miserably while toji sat back, amused.

“really? you think you can pull this off?” he chuckled to himself, watching one kid awkwardly mimic him. “nice try, kid. but good luck sounding this good while your mom’s screaming at you for hogging the bathroom.”

because toji wasn’t just a househusband — house father — anymore. he was a household name, and everyone knew him. his rise to fame was a wild ride, but hey, at least now he could afford to get the bathroom fixed — one line at a time.

he could hardly wrap his head around how he’d managed to move out of his tiny, crumbling apartment and into a much better place for him and megumi. it was like waking up one day and realizing he’d accidentally won the lottery. “wait, how did i end up here?” he’d mutter to himself, staring at the pristine walls and polished floors. “and how the hell can i pay megumi’s school fees on time without dodging dirty glares from the accounts office?”

he’d walk into the school, head held high, while megumi proudly puffed out his eight-year-old chest. “my daddy’s an actor!” he’d announce to anyone who would listen. toji couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. i mean, the kid wasn’t wrong. he was acting — acting like he had his life together, at least!

but did his new job stop toji from being a little hoe? oh, hell no. 

if anything, the fame went straight to his head — both up and down there, mind you. toji was like a kid in a candy store, and he was using his newfound charm to siphon money from literally every sugar mommy he could find. 

and daddies, too, if he was feeling daring. 

because people would die to be known as someone “close” to the toji fushiguro.

“oh my god, is that him?” a passerby would whisper, nudging her friend as they walked past toji at a private event.

“i think it is! i heard he’s dating someone famous,” her friend would respond, leaning in as if they were sharing a juicy secret. “i’ve seen him at that new club downtown. he’s just so... magnetic.”

“totally! i mean, if i could get him to call me ‘sweetheart’ just once, i’d die a happy woman,” the first friend would say, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

toji would smirk to himself, sipping his drink while casually overhearing their chatter. “yep, you’re right. i’m as available as a 24/7 convenience store,” he’d think, reveling in the attention. "i could probably charm the pants off a rock if i tried."

another group of giggling fans would walk by, whispering amongst themselves, “i met him at that charity event last week! he was so sweet! like, did you see the way he talked to everyone? he’s definitely a heartthrob.”

“sweet? you mean hot, right?” one of them would tease, and they’d all burst into laughter.

“please, if he looked at me, i’d die!” another would declare, all starry-eyed.

toji’s smirk widened. “keep it coming, ladies. i’m just here for the show.” he couldn’t deny it; being the center of attention was intoxicating, and he was loving every second of it.

with a wink and a little wave, he’d keep strutting through life like a runway model, knowing full well he had the power to turn heads and keep wallets open. “who knew being a hot voice actor could be this fun?”

great that you’d ask what toji did with all that sweet, sweet cash! save it all for his brat of a son, of course, even if he wouldn’t admit it. beneath that rugged exterior and playful swagger, he had a soft spot for the little sucker.

just the other week, megumi had been rambling on about wanting a really cool new video game console. “but daddy, alllll my friends have one! it’s so unfair!” he’d whined, big blue eyes practically shimmering with hope. toji had rolled his eyes, trying to act tough, but the moment he saw the kid's face, his heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. “fine, but only if you promise to finish your homework first.”

the next day, megumi had unwrapped a brand-new console, complete with all the latest games, and toji had basked in the sheer delight radiating from his son. “this is the best day ever!” megumi had screamed, wrapping his arms around toji’s waist. “thank you, daddy!”

toji grinned like an idiot, pretending to be unimpressed. “yeah, yeah, don’t go losing it on the first day, alright? and remember, no playing after eight!” he was basically a walking contradiction: a grumpy dad who secretly loved being the cool parent.

then there was that time megumi had been obsessed with this rare action figure from his favorite show. toji had seen the way his son’s eyes lit up every time he spotted it in a store, but it was always sold out. so, naturally, when toji found one online at a steep price, he didn’t hesitate. “i’ll just skip my overpriced rum for a week. totally worth it.”

when megumi had opened the package, he’d literally jumped in the air, screeching like a siren. “no way! you got it for me!?” and toji had played it cool, shrugging his shoulders. “what can i say? your dad’s a generous guy.”

of course, this indulgence didn’t go unnoticed by gojo satoru. the six eyes — er, eyes! — of the man always seemed to be on toji, especially when he noticed his friend was splurging just a little too much on himself — like that new leather jacket that looked ridiculously good on him. 

“i need a jacket like that,” gojo had muttered to himself, glancing at his own wardrobe with disappointment.

whenever toji treated himself, gojo would quietly slide a check over to him, nonchalantly muttering, “just a little something for megumi’s school expenses.”

some people would have viewed it as offensive or patronizing, but not toji. he’d always laughed it off, feeling grateful instead. in his mind, gojo was like a guardian angel — “if guardian angels wore sunglasses and had a taste for expensive sweets.” he saw it as gojo looking out for megumi, which made toji’s heart swell with warmth. “who else would want to help raise my kid? might as well accept it.”

“just don’t make a habit of it, alright?” toji would say with a teasing grin. “i don’t need you spoiling him more than i do.”

“too late,” gojo would quip, already plotting ways to sneak more gifts into megumi’s life. “it’s my new hobby.”

so, when gojo casually dropped the bomb that toji would be voicing one of the hottest, trending smut book — “mating with the demon king” or something equally ridiculous — toji shrugged it off. “simple enough job,” he thought. “and it must be good if they came to me for it.”

but when gojo suggested he read the book to get an idea of the material — “just a little prep work,” he’d said with that infuriatingly charming grin — things took a wild turn.

big mistake, toji would later reflect as he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows shooting up higher than a roller coaster. “who writes this stuff?” he muttered, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

the content was downright depraved. there were scenes that had him questioning his entire existence. 

“‘he thrust into her like a man possessed, each stroke igniting a fire within her’ — what even is that?” he read aloud, only to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. megumi, playing quietly in the other room, wondered why his daddy was cackling like a madman.

“uh, daddy? why are you reading that out loud?” megumi had peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity. toji quickly scrambled to shut the book. “uh, just… learning about, uh, cooking techniques!” he stammered, trying to play it cool. “you wouldn’t get it, buddy.”

but the laughter continued to bubble out of him, and he couldn’t help but read some of the more ludicrous lines. “‘his lips found her collarbone, trailing heat like a wildfire’ — who even talks like that?” he shook his head, utterly bemused.

by the end of the chapter, he was howling. “‘she gasped as he swept her off her feet and into a world of ecstasy’ — oh please!” toji chortled, clutching his stomach, imagining how this would all sound through a microphone. “my kid is gonna think i’ve lost my goddamn mind.”

but hey, if this job was going to pay the bills, he figured he could endure a little humiliation. “it’s all in a day’s work, right?” he muttered to himself, finally accepting that he was now the voice of “mating with the demon king.”

all that reading really took its toll on toji — physically, mentally, spiritually even. after hours spent tripping over lines like “pressed against the throbbing heat of his desire” (yeah, that one took five tries to get through without laughing), he needed to clear his head. so, he found himself at a bar, halfway through a drink, hoping to numb the embarrassment he’d just endured in the name of rent money.

then stumbles this stranger — a cute, very tipsy stranger who quickly parked herself right next to him and started chatting him up, wide-eyed and slightly unsteady. great, drunk people, he thought, resisting an eyeroll as she grinned at him, looking ready to either start a fight or profess her love. 

maybe both.

of course, what are the odds she’d go ahead and throw up on his shoes? yes, his brand-new shoes, because, apparently, the universe had decided that tonight, toji fushiguro would be the world’s personal punching bag. “can’t even get through one drink without some shit happening,” he muttered to himself as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. “we’re off to a great start here, huh?”

after some water and some awkward apologies (mostly her apologizing, mostly him trying not to laugh), they fell into surprisingly decent conversation. she was rambling about her job, the stress, the weird demands — stuff he could sympathize with, honestly. 

and that’s when he dropped it, just for fun: “i’m a voice actor.”

her eyes sparkled with recognition — a little too much recognition, actually, which made him narrow his eyes. “wait, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly all ears.

“toji. toji fushiguro.”

the second he said it, her face went from curious to horrified to... oh yeah, she knew exactly who he was. “wait,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “you’re... you’re the voice actor for my book.”

toji raised an eyebrow, deadpan. 

so this was the writer, the one who wrote all that nonsense he’d been struggling through for days. well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top. not only was this his boss but also the very person responsible for phrases like “pulsing need” and “moans spilling like honey.” and she’d just puked on him. 

talk about a power move.

“small world,” he said, his tone dry as desert sand. wonderful, he thought. my boss threw up on me. but, hey, the night was still young. 

he took a long sip from his drink, hoping she wouldn’t take this as an excuse to unleash some kind of creative critique.

“i... i didn’t know you’d be here,” she stammered, a shade redder than before, probably realizing what this made her look like — her, the lady behind the “throbbing heat of desire” shtick.

“don’t worry,” he said, giving her a smirk. “i won’t tell anyone the literary mastermind responsible for all that... romance has a weak stomach.”

you probably don’t remember much after you composed yourself following that second round of projectile embarrassment — but don’t worry, toji remembers. the man’s got a steel trap for the kinds of memories you’d prefer stayed buried. once he’d figured out that you weren’t exactly in shape to be left wandering around, he made the executive decision to get you home. yeah, he’d just met you a couple hours ago, but somehow, through the boozy haze and questionable life choices, he’d managed to catch your address. 

impressive detective work, really�� or, well, you may have blurted it out mid-ramble about how “the streetlight outside is the only thing lighting up your lonely hallway.” 

a touch dramatic, but, hey, it worked.

so he got you back to your place (no thanks to the cab driver’s judgmental side-eye), got you up the stairs without you faceplanting, and, after propping you up long enough to unlock your door, he even went the extra mile and tucked you under the covers. you, meanwhile, mumbled something about “tequila being the devil,” blissfully oblivious to the poor guy who’d just witnessed more of your personal life than your closest friends. toji took one last look before heading out, chuckling to himself as you drifted off, probably already dreaming of whatever literary nonsense you’d be writing next.

but what really stuck with him? the damn “dancing queen” chorus ringing in his ears from the bar. maybe it was still playing somewhere out there in the night, or maybe you’d just cursed him with it. because as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets, there it was, looping over and over in his head. 

“you can dance… you can jive…” 

great, now he’d be humming it for days.

both you and toji were snapped back into the fluorescent-lit reality of the conference room, where gojo was still going on about… royalties? percentages? to be honest, the entire spiel sounded more like corporate white noise to you. 

toji, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, looking as disinterested as humanly possible without actually falling asleep. across the screen, suguru appeared in one of those stiff, all-business modes, nodding along to gojo’s speech. his eyes had that telltale sparkle that only appeared when money was the topic — “stakeholder perks,” as gojo would call it, though it just meant suguru got to rake in extra cash on the side.

“and once the audiobook’s live, the split from the sales will be recalculated quarterly, yadda yadda, yadaaa —” gojo’s voice broke into a sing-song, clearly amusing only himself. “anyway, you guys will see some real sweet checks from this.”

“royalties…” suguru interjected, a bit too smoothly, “remind me what those projected percentages were again, satoru?”

toji suppressed a snort. here they were, with the man himself who could barely be bothered to read a weather report straight, much less your raunchy magnum opus. good luck explaining earnings, gojo.

“oh yeah, royalties!” gojo cleared his throat, launching into a number-laden monologue that seemed to somehow both explain everything and nothing at once. toji barely listened, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. it was only when gojo pivoted, with a suddenly very pointed look, that toji actually tuned back in.

“so, did everyone do their, ah, homework?” gojo grinned as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on you with a bit too much knowing amusement. “read the… material?”

you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, and every other voice actor in the room suddenly found the table, the wall, or their own shoes very interesting.

all except toji, of course, who stretched back with the most obnoxious smirk you’d seen yet.

“homework?” he drawled, deadpan as always. “yeah, got right into it. wouldn’t want to miss a single word of that… fine literature.”

a few of the others exchanged awkward looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the dead-serious way toji said fine literature without a shred of irony. meanwhile, you shrank a little in your seat, not exactly loving the fact that the guy you threw up on was apparently the one voice actor who actually read your work cover-to-cover. not to mention, this was toji fushiguro, the voice actor who’d taken the world by storm with a single, leaked snippet. you'd heard your fans say that he was some kind of god-tier talent — practically a household name. and now? 

he was casually staring you down like he'd just read your diary.

“it’s… it’s not that bad,” you muttered defensively, feeling a prickling heat rise up your neck.

toji raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “oh, didn’t say it was bad. just, uh… thorough.”

you felt the blush intensify, but before you could reply, gojo jumped back in, undeterred. “great! since everyone’s read it now, we’ll dive into scene breakdowns tomorrow, with input from our illustrious author here.” he winked at you in that annoyingly playful way of his, as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing for kicks. “it’s all about bringing your vision to life, yeah?”

“looking forward to it.” toji’s tone was smooth, with just enough emphasis to hint at the mischief lying behind his calm expression. you could swear there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes, and the fact that he’d actually read the book — a book that you wrote in a creative haze, no less — was beginning to feel less like a weird coincidence and more like some cosmic joke at your expense.

suguru’s voice broke through, “and let’s hope that translates to success, right, gojo? my dividends would certainly appreciate it.”

“oh, don’t you worry, sugu bear.” gojo leaned in with that shark-like grin of his. “with toji voicing this masterpiece, and the author right here to guide us? we’re printing money already.”

with a dramatic flourish, gojo clapped his hands together, instantly breaking the tension. “alright, dismissed! snacks are out front — help yourselves, or not! more for me, after all,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he clearly envisioned his sugary hoard.

suguru took this moment as his graceful exit cue, giving a short nod before the screen blinked off. gojo sighed theatrically, clasping his chest. “oh, suguru, leaving so soon? you wound me! who’s going to discuss ‘dividends’ and ‘royalties’ with me now?”

nobody had the heart — or possibly the patience — to answer that question, which suited gojo just fine as he spun on his heel, making his way toward the snack table. 

you, meanwhile, considered vanishing altogether, at least until the next segment of the day when you’d actually need to make yourself useful. judging by the energy in the room, none of the other voice actors were in a rush to strike up a conversation with you. 

ouch. apparently, being the creator of their next project wasn’t that much of a social asset.

you edged toward the door, already halfway to freedom when, like clockwork, a deep, familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “leaving so soon?”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. obnoxious didn’t even cover half of it. “just… thought i’d give you guys a break from me,” you muttered, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, hoping it looked casual instead of like an attempt to bolt.

toji’s laugh was low, almost teasing. “a break? i don’t mind the company. in fact, i think the others are just shy.” his words were smooth, but there was a mischievous lilt to them, like he was very aware of just how uncomfortable you probably were.

“right,” you deadpanned, summoning every ounce of sarcasm you had left. “they’re all just shy.”

he chuckled, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the snack table. gojo was already there, unabashedly sampling a tray of tiny cupcakes. he shot you both a grin that was, in all honesty, more threatening than friendly. 

oh god, why is he looking at us like that?

“so!” gojo swiped another cupcake, leaning back against the table as he took in you and toji with an almost too-pleased expression. “getting along, are we? i mean, it’s not every day you get to work so closely with the voice behind your book, right?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if trying to ignite some sort of spark just to make things interesting.

toji, unbothered as ever, shrugged. “she already threw up on me. might as well be friends after that, huh?”

oh my god. 

you felt the flush rise to your face instantly, a mix of embarrassment and horror. he did not just bring that up in front of gojo, of all people.

“aww, how cute!” gojo crooned, looking absolutely delighted as he clapped his hands in that overly-enthusiastic, not-at-all sincere way. “bonding over bodily fluids. you guys are practically soulmates!”

“please, kill me now,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the snack table like it might provide an escape hatch.

toji leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “don’t worry, author. i’ve seen worse.”

“great, that’s… comforting,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed a snack at random. at this point, you were ready to make a quick exit, potentially before the day’s work even started if it meant escaping this scene.

“now, don’t run off too fast,” gojo added, wagging a finger at you with a sly grin. “i’m expecting all of us back here in an hour, nice and energized. don’t want any excuses!”

toji shot you one last look, equal parts teasing and unreadable, before he turned to grab a coffee. “guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer,” he murmured, a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes.

wonderful. absolutely wonderful. well, at least there’s cupcakes.

it’s only five minutes into the recording session, and you’re already wondering if there’s a job market for earth-burrowing positions. if there is, you’d gladly take it. anything would be better than this…circus.

the sound booth is packed with voice actors delivering line after line of your book’s carefully crafted (painfully cheesy) smutty dialogue. you bite your lip, both cringing and resisting the urge to laugh out loud as one of the actors, a slender guy with an unfortunate tendency to over-dramatize every vowel, reads his line with a tragic sigh.

“i can’t help it… i just want to devour you.”

devour you? you want to throw yourself into the nearest trash can. before you can stop yourself, you lean forward into the mic, managing a half-apologetic, half-pleading tone. “uh, could you maybe… ease up on the ‘devour’ part? like, less dramatic, more… suave?”

he nods seriously, doing a quick vocal warm-up before trying again. “i can’t help it… i just want to devoooour—”

“nope! nope, nope, nope!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, the cringe spiraling out of control. you quickly clear your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible. “let’s, uh, maybe just skip to the next line.”

from the corner of the room, you catch sight of gojo, who’s grinning so widely you’re genuinely concerned his face might stay that way forever. he’s watching you with an infectious enthusiasm that’s bordering on manic, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement. you’re half-expecting him to yell, “surprise! this is an snl skit!”

you rub at your temple, wishing the earth would do you a solid and open up beneath you, while the next actor — a petite, sweet-looking woman who’s visibly uncomfortable — takes her turn. she clears her throat, looking down at her script, and delivers the line in a barely-there whisper, “i… i want you to take me… take me as if…”

“um…” you grimace, instantly feeling the heat rise to your face. “maybe a bit louder? but, you know, sensual.”

she blushes, muttering something under her breath before raising her voice, though it’s still trembling. “i… i want you to… take me… as if…”

toji, who’s been watching the whole scene from his seat, chuckles lowly, and his smirk sends a jolt of embarrassment through you. “jeez, author, why don’t you just hop in there and show ’em how it’s done?” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not unkind.

you throw him a flat look, biting back an eye roll. not like i wanted to be here, you think to yourself. it’s just that somehow, the universe decided that today you’d be responsible for turning lines you’d never want to say out loud into something even remotely palatable.

and it only gets worse. 

another actor — a deep-voiced, well-meaning guy in his mid-40s — leans into his mic and reads out, in a gruff voice you can only describe as a rejected batman impersonation: “you’re driving me… wild.” his tone is so intense it’s like he’s threatening to fight the listener in a parking lot.

“okay… we might want to dial it back a little,” you say carefully, hoping to mask your horror with politeness. “just… a little less ‘supervillain,’ more… warm?”

you hear toji chuckle behind you, low and rumbling, clearly reveling in your suffering. and as you glance over your shoulder, you find gojo, once again, looking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. 

at this point, he might actually cry from laughing.

just when you think it can’t get any worse, toji stands, giving you a wink as he heads into the booth for his turn. he takes the mic, his face blank and unreadable as he starts reading the next line.

“i need you… right now,” he purrs, his voice oozing that lazy, sensual charm you’d envisioned for this character. it’s… almost unfair, really. 

there’s not an ounce of irony or overacting. 

toji’s delivery is so smooth, so confident, that it catches you off guard, a flush rising to your cheeks.

gojo lets out a low whistle, giving you a teasing look as if to say, see? was that so hard?

“finally,” you mutter under your breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. gojo raises a brow, clearly enjoying every second of your awkwardness.

you sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the recording. if nothing else, at least one actor seems to have nailed the tone — much to your embarrassment and gojo’s endless delight.

you clear your throat, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the recording session, which is proving to be harder than herding a pack of caffeinated cats. “right, everyone, let’s, uh, keep moving and go ahead with recording the dragon king’s lines. toji, if you’re ready?”

but you barely finish your sentence before gojo claps toji on the shoulder with that all-too-annoying bromance energy, grinning from ear to ear. “our star is ready, aren’t ya, toji? i mean, look at this guy! look at him! can’t believe i found this gem for gojo-sonic!” gojo’s voice carries that infuriatingly proud tone that practically drips with smug satisfaction.

you stifle an eye roll, and even the other actors exchange glances, half-annoyed, half-amused at gojo’s over-the-top fawning. but before you can jump in to cut gojo off, toji just smirks, sliding comfortably into the mic like he was born to deliver cheesy lines.

“alright, alright,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “let’s see what you’ve got, mr. dragon king.”

toji adjusts the headphones, his lazy smirk already primed. 

and then he begins, voice low and sultry, hitting each cringe-worthy word with the same ridiculous gravitas that has the whole room mesmerized.

“i have waited eons for a beauty like yours to grace my realm. come… be mine, and together we shall rule the heavens.”

you can practically feel everyone holding their breath, transfixed by the sheer sincerity in his tone, despite the line’s absurdity. you, too, can’t help but feel a blush creeping up your neck, which is just unfair given you wrote these lines. 

you knew what they were meant to sound like, but this? 

he’s delivering them like they’re damn poetry.

toji doesn’t stop there, though, his deep voice carrying each line as though he’s serenading the mic. “my heart burns with a fire only you can soothe. take my hand, and i swear to guard your heart with my very life.”

gojo is practically fawning, batting his eyelashes like a proud parent in the corner. “see, people, this is how it’s done! let the dragon king here show you amateurs how it’s really supposed to sound!”

you resist the urge to chuck something at gojo as the other actors’ eyes widen, watching in awe.

one of them mutters under their breath, “no way we’re topping that.”

and then, toji’s voice dips even lower, the next line coming out in a growl that somehow manages to be both dramatic and, disturbingly, kind of… enchanting.

“you are the breath in my lungs, the flame in my veins. without you, i am but a shadow… a beast in the dark.”

the room is dead silent. 

you’re all fawning, gushing messes, and you’re not even sure how it happened. it’s like toji’s somehow turned this trial recording into an absurdly hot moment. you can barely believe you’re hearing the same lines you once labeled “ridiculously cringey” in the draft.

finally, he leans back, looking pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just left everyone a little breathless. gojo practically beams with pride, nudging you. 

“so… i think you’ve found your dragon king, wouldn’t you say?”

you nod, still stunned, half in disbelief, half in begrudging admiration. if this was just the trial recording, you could only imagine how many blushing, starry-eyed listeners this final audiobook was going to leave in its wake.

the moment the trial recording session wraps up, gojo is the first one on his feet, clapping his hands like he's just watched the performance of a lifetime. “brilliant!” he practically shouts, pulling out his phone faster than you can blink. “suguru needs to hear this,” he mutters, already dialing his business partner like a kid who can’t wait to brag about his latest toy.

sometimes you really do forget that gojo is the ceo of a multi-million dollar company — an erotic audiobook company, no less. 

is he this passionate about the art, or is it just the money? either way, watching him fanboy over his own employee leaves you a mix of amused and exhausted.

there’s a charm to it, though, even if it’s a little baffling to witness in real time.

as the energy in the studio starts to mellow, you find yourself actually breathing a bit easier. for once, things seem to be going smoothly. 

maybe this whole collaboration wouldn’t be a disaster after all. 

you let yourself relax, even if a small part of your brain chides you with a quick reminder: next time, skip the cheap caffeine fix when you’re pulling an all-nighter writing smut. 

or… cheap anything, really. 

yeah, you don’t actually smoke, you remind yourself — except, well, that one time in college, but hey, that was a whole different you. one that should stay buried in the relics of questionable decisions, right next to your spiral-bound notes of embarrassingly bad poetry.

just as you’re praying to the universe that this is all going to wrap up without any extra drama, you hear it. the sound that’s become both your nightmare and… okay, maybe, a little less than that.

“well, princess,” toji’s voice rumbles, his tone as amused as it is teasing, “got anything else you want from your dragon king?”

you close your eyes and will the ground to open up beneath you, but nope, nothing. 

nothing but the sound of your heartbeat doing an awkward little tango in your chest.

of course he’d pick now to resurrect that ridiculous moniker from last night. like it wasn’t humiliating enough when he threw it out there while you were a couple drinks deep and all but glued to your seat at the bar. 

oh, you’re practically begging the universe to put you out of your misery — well, actually, now that you think about it, maybe being wrapped up in those beefy arms wouldn’t be the worst fate…

wow. get a grip, girl. this is the caffeine deprivation talking. 

definitely that.

but then toji smirks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if he’s just dared you to respond. and all you can think is… oh, lord, this man is trouble.

"c’mon, just a drink,” toji insists, flashing that devil-may-care grin that both ruins and improves your day within a matter of seconds. he’s leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world, casually ignoring how you definitely don’t. 

“trust me, princess, it’ll settle your nerves.”

it’s not like you need a reminder of the mess that was last night. every foggy memory swirls in your head, like life’s own cruel version of a mocktail — one garnished with shame, regret, and a generous helping of last night’s tequila. 

if anything, adding more drinks to this equation feels about as smart as walking blindfolded into traffic.

but toji’s already up, stretching like he’s completely unaware of the chaotic memories this whole “outing” is summoning. “just a quick look around gojo-sonic, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the maze of hallways beyond the studio door, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

“you’re new here, and it’s… important to know the lay of the land. work reasons.”

you can practically hear the quotation marks around that “work reasons.”

“you know,” he adds with a wink, “never hurts to see where the magic happens.”

yeah, right. you have a feeling the only magic here is him somehow dragging you deeper into your personal nightmare.

you don’t even get the chance to respond with a yes, no, or a “maybe next century” when toji’s phone lights up and his whole expression darkens. not exactly the look you expect from the guy whose voice practically ruined half the internet last month with that infamous line about... well, yeah, better not go there right now.

“satoru, the brat got into a fight,” he growls into the phone, and suddenly, satoru’s jaw hits the floor with such force you can practically hear it from across the studio. toji doesn’t stick around for a reply, though — he’s already striding toward the door like a man with a purpose, ignoring satoru’s spluttered, “the what did who?”

and somehow — god knows how — you find yourself tagging along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the thrill of seeing toji in full boss mode, or maybe it’s just because, oh, y’know, “responsible adult and responsibilities” instincts or whatever. 

but the further you walk, the more you realize that toji doesn’t mind you following one bit. in fact, he’s practically matching his pace to yours, as if you’re part of some unofficial escort mission to... whoever this “brat” is.

which, speaking of, who the hell is megumi?

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this was supposed to be a “quick tour” of the office and not, somehow, an impromptu escort mission to the world’s sleekest car, a porsche 911 turbo — yep, that’s right, the kind of car you’ve only ever seen in movies where the bad guy’s got a mysterious, sexy side. all you can manage is, “you own this?”

toji shrugs, slipping his keys into the ignition with an air of pure, unbothered cool. “you don’t?”

oh. okay. 

you barely have time to process this response before he’s peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, a snail-paced truck, and an old lady who’s almost sacrificed her wig to his driving style. but hey, all part of the thrill, right?

definitely not questioning life choices here.

by the time you pull up to a cutesy primary school — you know, the kind with pastel-colored gates and cartoon murals of bears and rabbits — you’re genuinely confused. 

toji seems like the last guy who’d be here unless it was some undercover op. and “megumi,” whoever he is, sounds like he could be the school’s playground menace.

“wait, this is where we’re headed?” you ask, eyeing the building like it might suddenly make sense.

but toji’s out of the car, moving so fast you practically have to jog to keep up. the school secretary gives you both a wary glance, likely sensing the storm of exasperation radiating off toji, as he strides straight into the principal’s office. there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl that screams “mini-toji,” is a little boy with spiky hair and an air of quiet defiance.

without missing a beat, toji asks, “megs! did you win?”

the principal, a kindly-looking woman whose expression is rapidly shifting from “calm mediator” to “i don’t get paid enough for this,” clears her throat. 

“mr. fushiguro, your son wasn’t... in the wrong, per se. it appears he was, um, defending his honor.”

defending his honor? you blink. what kind of second grader even knows what that means?

“that true, ‘gumi?” toji says, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbothered, proud dad of the year.

“he said my dad was a... weird voice actor,” megumi mutters, then shrugs. “so i said at least my dad works.”

you nearly choke, partly from stifled laughter, partly from the sheer absurdity of all this. here you were, thinking “honor” meant, like, taking down a playground empire or something. 

but no, megumi’s just a kid with a sharp tongue and a little too much of toji’s attitude.

“damn right, kid,” toji says, patting megumi’s head, then looking over at you with that familiar, annoyingly smug grin. “raised him right, yeah?”

“...sure,” you say, because what else can you even say at this point? it’s like you’ve stumbled into the weirdest sitcom ever, and the laugh track is somehow missing.

the principal’s expression morphs into something almost painfully polite as she addresses you, tiptoeing around the word wife with an impressive mix of caution and curiosity. 

“are you, ah... megumi’s guardian?”

and then, in perfect, unplanned harmony, you, toji, and megumi all blurt out, “no.”

the unity, the instinctual synchronization — it’s like you’re all on the same wavelength, for better or worse. soul-level understanding, or something. 

what the hell is happening right now?

with a polite smile and a “let’s never speak of this again” nod, you three finally leave the principal’s office. megumi, looking more bored than reprimanded, flicks at a speck of lint on his uniform, while you and toji attempt to navigate the hallway swarming with concerned teachers and worried front-desk ladies. and by “concerned” and “worried,” it’s more like they’re curious about toji’s parenting style and, let’s be honest, probably toji himself.

“oh, mr. fushiguro!” one particularly invested teacher coos, “we heard about the incident. is everything all right?”

toji, of course, laps up the attention, chuckling low and throwing in a wink here and there like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie dad role. the ladies are practically falling over themselves to get a response from him, their questions barely veiled as they assess you with raised brows and sideways glances, a classic “who’s she?” written all over their faces.

“and you are...?” one of the front-desk ladies finally asks, voice all sugar-coated and sharp.

toji slides in smoothly, cutting off whatever half-formed, awkward introduction you were about to stammer out. “oh, she’s a colleague,” he says, his tone effortlessly suave, like introducing a perfectly respectable coworker and totally not the author of his last, extremely explicit audiobook project.

you’re almost grateful until it hits you — this is the same guy who made a whole production of calling you “princess” in the recording booth just yesterday. 

as if he hasn’t played one of your absurdly corny dragon kings in all his full-throttle intensity. 

and now he’s here, all casual and cool, giving you a proper, respectable title like he hasn’t spent hours voicing content these people probably keep hidden under their pillows at night.

but at least he didn’t out you as the actual author of those… creative pieces. 

that’s something.

toji is out here, doing his social service to society. and no, it’s not about lending his voice to steamy audiobooks, thank you very much. 

today, he’s serving the community by providing these teachers with a generous five minutes of his attention, which they’ll probably be replaying in their heads until the next parent-teacher meeting. and — oh, what a surprise! — that’s exactly what they’re talking about now, circling back to how he must come to the next one for a “serious discussion” about megumi.

toji’s stance? why bother? if the kid’s acing his tests, staying out of trouble (mostly), and keeping a lid on the whole “honor” thing, why does he need to sit through hours of polite lecturing from the pta?

while he’s busy justifying his lack of parental enthusiasm, you feel a pair of eyes on you. glancing down, you meet megumi’s steady, curious stare. 

it’s oddly intense for a kid his age, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. you narrow your eyes, feigning a critical, assessing look, and he visibly falters, going slightly pink around the ears.

ah, kids.

as you three make your way out of the building — toji still being all socialite with the staff and probably postponing that pta date indefinitely — you suddenly find yourself in a mini interview  with megumi. it’s as if this eight-year-old has appointed himself the gatekeeper of his dad’s life and has decided you’re the latest applicant.

“so… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with an unblinking, serious stare.

“uh…” you pause, realizing the weight of your answer here. “blue. like, uh, light blue.”

he nods, considering. “good answer.”

a pause. “favorite superhero?”

“batman?” you try, glancing at him for a sign of approval.

“hmm. fine. but iron man would’ve been better.”

noted, you think, as he then moves to cereal brand, favorite animal, and even your preferred subject in school. you navigate each question as best as you can, almost feeling the burn of a final exam.

then, in a moment of quiet, just as you think the quiz is over, megumi looks down and asks, voice barely a whisper, “did i… do the right thing? defending my… my hone-er?”

“your… oh, honor?” you say, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as you catch his wide-eyed, earnest gaze.

he nods, cheeks tinting a bit as he scuffs his sneaker on the ground.

“megumi,” you say, kneeling a little to get on his level, “defending your honor is important. just… maybe don’t go for all the punches next time? sometimes words work too.” you give him a playful nudge.

he nods, seeming satisfied with that answer, then glances over his shoulder. “and don’t tell daddy i asked.”

“your secret’s safe with me,” you whisper back, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

toji’s arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the little interaction between you and megumi. 

he was always careful about the people around his kid, fiercely protective to the point that very few in his line of work even knew megumi existed. the only ones who had ever met him were gojo and geto — and that was already a stretch.

but something about how you handled the kid’s questions, actually entertained them with the same patience he’d usually summon up himself, caught him off guard. the way you knelt down to answer him, even kept a straight face through the hard-hitting topics of favorite superheroes and cereal brands... it was surprisingly nice. 

almost… reassuring?

ugh, what was he even thinking? you were still the same girl who’d written, and he mentally cringed as he remembered the line, 

“dragons may have claws, but they’re nothing compared to the grip i have on your…” 

yeah, yeah, he really didn’t need to finish that thought. the memory alone had him chuckling under his breath, shaking his head.

of course, that earned him a suspicious glance from both you and megumi.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, brow raised.

“yeah, daddy, why’re you laughing?” megumi chimed in, clearly puzzled.

toji waved a hand dismissively, realizing he’d just blown his cool for no reason. 

“nothin’, don’t worry about it. just thinkin’,” he mumbled, aware he’d probably looked a little unhinged just then. 

maybe he really needed to work on his awareness — or maybe he just needed to get a grip, period.

toji’s mind was doing somersaults, genuinely debating if he could manage both you and megumi tagging along for the afternoon. megumi’s insistence didn’t help; kid was determined that toji should keep you both company for the rest of the day, despite having school hours left. 

“you’ve got work, right?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious. “aren’t you supposed to be off doing big, important actor things?”

toji only smirked, whipping out his phone with the sort of confidence that made it clear he had a workaround for everything. he tapped open a message to gojo, fingers moving fast.

you [11:31 am]: hey. kid’s dragging me to the arcade. need a few hours off. gojo s. [11:33 am]: need or WANT, toji? ;)) you [11:31 am]: like i said, KID is dragging me. gojo s. [11:33 am]: oh sure, blame megumi. what, does he have you wrapped around his little finger or something? you [11:31 am]: think whatever you want, but you’re handling my schedule for the rest of the day. gojo s. [11:33 am]: wait, are you with...the AUTHOR? ;)) you [11:31 am]: quit smiling through text, it’s creepy. gojo s. [11:33 am]: i’ll allow it. but only cause i’m such a good friend.  gojo s. [11:33 am]: tell megumi uncle gojo says hi  gojo s. [11:34 am]: and he owes me 20 bucks. you [11:35 am]: he doesn’t owe you anything. gojo s. [11:35 am]: fine, but bring me something from the prize counter.

satisfied, toji pocketed his phone and shrugged. 

“all right, kid. we’ll hang out for a bit. but i swear if you drag me into any embarrassing games —”

“arcade!” megumi interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish. “i can show you both that i’m the best at every game! daddy taught me how to play, so you better watch out!”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“all right, let’s go. but you better not make me look bad, kid,” toji said, smirking down at his son, who was now practically vibrating with eagerness.

“arcade!” megumi yelled again, nearly bouncing as he grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

megumi barely lets you settle into the leather of the passenger seat before he’s bouncing in the back, practically vibrating with energy as he plugs toji’s phone into the aux. you’re trying to wrap your head around being in toji fushiguro’s car, the man who not only voices the romantic lead in your steamiest, most dramatic book but also owns a luxury car that could probably pay off your loans twice over.

"so, uh... passenger princess, huh?" toji smirks, catching you in mid-thought.

"i… what?" you stammer, feeling the heat creep up as he settles a hand on the wheel with all the nonchalance in the world. “i, uh —” but you’re cut off by megumi excitedly blasting his choice of artist: korn.

"your son listens to korn?" you blurt out, giving toji a mix of awe and disbelief.

toji just raises an eyebrow, deadpanning, “yours doesn’t?”

ouch. okay, fair point. 

because no, you do not have a kid, or a husband, or even a boyfriend…or any romantic prospects, really. 

toji’s question leaves you fidgeting as you try to muster a dignified response.

meanwhile, megumi is full-on screaming to the lyrics of "freak on a leash," and you catch snippets like “something takes a part of me!” which, yeah, relatable — korn is honestly hitting the mood. but of course, toji catches you staring out the window, attempting to look casual as he throws you a side-eye.

"so, what’s got you without a boyfriend?” he asks, way too casually, as if this was a natural segue from whatever korn-fueled karaoke session is happening in the backseat.

you practically choke on air. "what, me? no, i’m...," you laugh awkwardly, shifting in the passenger seat. “besides, i don’t meet many guys. i'm just… you know… doing my thing.”

megumi, pausing his headbanging just for a moment, turns and looks at you with an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face, as if being single was the worst possible fate in his young, eight-year-old eyes. 

but then he shrugs, clearly uninterested in this adult drama and goes back to screaming, “feeling like a freak on a leash!”

toji, still watching you, smirks, “so, doing your ‘thing’ includes no boyfriend, no husband... what, are you just swearing off men?”

"uh, no!” you say quickly, too quickly, and feel your face heat up. “just haven’t... y’know, met anyone worth dating. been busy.”

toji gives a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “busy doing what, writing your ‘torrid love stories’?”

you make a face, biting your lip. 

“they’re not that torrid.” but even as you say it, you hear the echo of a particularly cheesy line you’d written for his character in your novel, which, mortifyingly enough, involved the phrase “my darling flame, you set my very soul alight.”

toji chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. “maybe i’ll get to hear one of those lines in real life someday, princess.”

“can we not call me that while megumi’s in the car?” you mutter, glancing back, only to find megumi fully engrossed in his self-proclaimed vocal talents.

“noted.” toji snickers, shooting you another mischievous look as korn plays on, megumi happily singing about “breaking down” in the back.

“but hey,” toji says smoothly, hand resting on the gearshift, “just so you know, even my son knows a good band when he hears one.”

you roll your eyes at him, managing to mumble, “at least one of you is a bit mature.”

the porsche pulls up to the arcade with enough fanfare that heads start turning even before the engine purrs to a stop. not that the onlookers were ready for what steps out next: a towering, chiseled man looking like he’s on his way to a modeling photoshoot, a cute kid in full confidence mode, and, well… you.

still feeling a little dizzy from the korn concert that just took place, you barely register megumi bolting out of the car with a grin, leaving you and toji to get your bearings. his energy’s practically crackling by the time toji pays for the play card, and you’re pretty sure if he has to wait even one more minute, he’s about to combust.

“okay, okay, slow down, megumi,” you say, trying to keep up as he yanks you to the nearest neon-lit game. 

but the kid isn’t hearing it. he’s already dragging you to one machine, and then the next, moving faster than you can process where you even are. each one is seemingly more intense and blinding than the last, and you’re hit with a sensory overload of neon lights, retro game sounds, and the feel of the arcade carpet sticking just a little too much to your shoes.

toji’s watching the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk. you and his kid are like a whirlwind of neon and laughter, barely stopping to catch your breaths between games. the sight is somehow… comforting. like a scene from a life he hadn’t planned but couldn’t help finding strangely compelling.

but then he catches himself. seriously? 

he shakes his head. this is not the time to get all sentimental over his kid’s new ‘playdate’ or whatever. 

he’s just here because megumi insisted, and maybe he thought it’d be amusing to watch you get dragged around by an eight-year-old with zero restraint. that’s it. 

nothing more.

yeah, right. his internal grumbling comes to an abrupt stop as he watches megumi take your hand and pull you over to a classic claw machine. the kid’s looking up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, all excitement and pure innocence, like winning one of those knockoff plush toys is the pinnacle of existence.

“you got this?” you ask, grinning at him as he lines up the claw with intense concentration.

“of course! my dad showed me,” he declares, like he’s about to go pro in the claw game league.

toji, watching from a distance, feels a twinge in his chest. 

yeah, he’d shown megumi how to play this game ages ago, more to give him an edge over the other kids than anything else. it was a dad-and-son thing, just the two of them. but seeing megumi look up at you with the same pride and excitement makes him feel… something. 

and he doesn’t know if he likes it.

you’re so focused on megumi’s moves that you don’t notice toji’s slight frown, nor do you hear his quiet mutter of, “this is ridiculous.” 

but when he sees the way your eyes light up as megumi successfully nabs a cheap stuffed animal — a lopsided dinosaur, of all things — and the way you celebrate like he’s won an olympic medal, he feels himself relax, just a little.

he chuckles, shaking his head and crossing his arms as you high-five megumi, both of you beaming over a prize that probably cost less than the game itself. but toji doesn’t move. 

he stands there, rooted, as you two bounce from game to game, his thoughts too jumbled to focus on anything else.

but maybe… maybe that’s okay for now.

toji’s phone buzzes just as he’s leaning against the side of a vintage racing game, watching you and megumi practically lighting up the whole arcade with your laughter. he glances down to see satoru’s name pop up on the screen, already feeling a headache brewing.

gojo s. [12:20 pm]: so, arcade? 😏 you [12:20 pm]: yeah, i just told you. gojo s. [12:20 pm]: nah, i mean WHY the arcade? what are we celebrating here, toji? ;)) you [12:21 pm]: why does it matter gojo s. [12:21 pm]: CUZZZZ gojo s. [12:21 pm]: lemme guess, megumi's there with her now, right?  gojo s. [12:22 pm]: bet they’re having the time of their lives, while YOU gojo s. [12:22 pm]: you’re just there all moody on the sidelines😔

toji glances up at you and megumi, who’ve now moved on to a skee-ball machine, both cheering as you score a perfect 50-point throw.

you [12:23 pm]: like i said, work stuff. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: HAHA. work stuff, right.  gojo s. [12:24 pm]: work stuff that has megumi running around grinning like that.  gojo s. [12:25 pm]: bro gojo s. [12:25 pm]: you’re terrible at lying.  gojo s. [12:26 pm]: she’s a keeper if she can deal with YOU you [12:26 pm]: keep dreaming.

he slips his phone back into his pocket, unable to shake off the grin creeping onto his face as he watches you high-five megumi. the kid’s happier than he’s seen in ages, and he…

well, he can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed watching anyone just being with his kid.

toji stands back, taking in the moment — megumi’s laughter echoing through the arcade, your smile as you lift him up with an ease that has the kid giggling uncontrollably — and for some reason, his mind has turned the whole scene into a rom-com montage.

you are the dancing queen…

it’s absurd, really. 

he doesn’t even like abba. but there it is, the stupid song playing in his head, all set to the image of you holding his son, twirling him like he weighs nothing, both of you in fits of laughter.

young and sweet, only seventeen…

and for a split second, his heart does this awkward little stutter. 

he chalks it up to the neon lights. 

or maybe the greasy smell of the arcade food messing with his senses. but as he watches you hold megumi up, almost as if he’s flying, he can’t ignore that ridiculous, cheesy pull in his chest.

feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah...

oh god. 

is he seriously catching himself grinning at the way you’re both trying to get him to join in? megumi’s little hand reaches out, beckoning him over, and you’re giving him that smile, that “come on, get over here, big guy” look.

you can dance, you can jive…

the song hits that soaring note in his head just as he finally gives in and starts to walk over, and his pulse actually picks up, as if he’s not just at some run-down arcade but in the middle of some ridiculously sappy rom-com finale.

having the time of your life…

and then megumi is shrieking again, calling, “dad, hurry up!” like it’s life or death, and you’re beaming at him with that mischievous, encouraging look.

toji sighs, shaking his head at himself. 

just great. 

the two of you have officially dragged him into your world, soundtrack and all.

toji's trying his best to lock in. 

but as he walks out of the arcade — juggling not one, but four oversized plushies, two fancy new lego sets, a slinky, a bouncy ball, some glow-in-the-dark slime, and a rainbow slap bracelet — he can’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

between his loaded arms and megumi curled up fast asleep in yours, it’s a scene straight out of one of those cheesy family movies.

he shakes his head, trying to push down that weirdly warm feeling creeping up on him. 

stay focused, toji. 

he doesn't need any sappy feelings right now. he's a single dad with a kid and a job, not some washed-up rom-com character, damn it. 

but watching you gently adjust megumi as he drools onto your shoulder, snuggling deeper into the crook of your arm as you carefully slide into the backseat, it’s hard not to feel that tug again.

ugh, he thinks, climbing into the driver’s seat as you buckle up up front, giving him a soft, tired smile. 

“never held a kid before, huh?” he teases, eyes glancing from the road to the rearview mirror, where megumi’s still dozing, soft breaths muffling against your arm.

“nope,” you shrug, but there’s a softness to your voice as you gently rub megumi’s back, “first time for everything, i guess.”

toji’s heart does that weird skip thing again. 

oh god, he thinks, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he tries to ignore the sappy old man vibe overtaking him.

the air in the car feels... charged, but it’s not like either of you are exactly leaning into the tension. instead, you both sit in this weird, awkward silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio, like you’re suddenly too aware of just being there with each other.

and then, as if the universe wanted to toy with you, iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing. 

oh, god. you immediately wish you could just evaporate into the passenger seat.

“...and i’d give up forever to touch you…” the lyrics croon, filling the silence, and you can practically feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

toji clears his throat, obviously catching it too. “radio’s on a roll, huh?”

“yep,” you say, managing a weak laugh. “i mean, this is classic… everyone listens to goo goo dolls in, uh, total silence in the car with their coworker, right?”

he glances at you, a rare, subtle smile ghosting on his lips. “totally normal.”

“and i don’t want the world to see me… ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

you glance out the window, eyes focused anywhere but on him, biting back a laugh at how the song somehow keeps getting more dramatic. like, who’s writing this scene, seriously?

“just tell me where to turn,” toji says, breaking through your internal monologue, and you do, mentioning a landmark close to home, hoping he’ll take the hint.

but toji only raises an eyebrow. “near it? nah. i’m dropping you at the door.”

“oh, no, that’s really fine —” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.

“don’t worry about it,” he insists, a smirk in his voice. “besides, i remember where you live. from, you know… last time.”

wait. last time? as in… when you were embarrassingly, unapologetically wasted that night?

you want to crawl under the seat as the lyrics continue, “when everything’s made to be broken…”

so when toji pulls up in front of your apartment, there’s this odd feeling hanging in the air. you catch yourself wanting to... linger, just a little longer, even if you’re home. 

and lowkey? 

so does toji. 

it’s like the two of you have hit this weird teenage crush level of awkward — just leaning, leaning, like there’s some invisible string pulling you closer.

he’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him, and you’re both just… stuck there. you can’t even bring yourself to reach for the door handle, and it’s the same for him.

but right as the moment peaks, a tiny, innocent voice cuts through from the backseat. “are you two going to kiss?”

megumi’s question hangs there, blunt and childlike, breaking whatever spell had you both frozen. you both jolt back, blinking as if you just woke up.

“what? no!” you blurt, practically tripping over your own denial. 

your face feels like it’s about to catch fire.

toji coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, just barely suppressing a chuckle.

“kid’s got a helluva imagination,” he mutters, eyes anywhere but on you.

as you finally reach for the door handle, ready to slip out and say your goodbyes, you hear a little sniffle from the backseat.

“wait…” megumi’s voice is tiny, almost shaky. you turn around, and to your surprise, his face is scrunched up, his eyes glistening with tears that he’s trying so hard to hold back.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to face him. “i’ll see you again, kiddo.”

but his lower lip wobbles, and suddenly he bursts into full-on tears, clutching the giant plushie he won at the arcade. “b-but i don’t want you to leave!” he sobs, voice cracking. “can’t you stay just a little longer?”

toji’s eyes widen; he looks genuinely shocked. 

“megumi, you’re fine, she’s not going anywhere forever. what’s gotten into you?” he tries to keep his tone steady, but there’s an undercurrent of surprise. 

megumi doesn’t cry. 

ever. 

this is new territory.

megumi just shakes his head, burying his face into the plushie. “but she’s nice,” he mumbles, muffled but insistent. “and she plays games with me and —” he peeks out from the plushie with red, teary eyes. “and she talks to me like you do.”

you feel something stir in your chest at his words, this overwhelming urge to hug him even though you’d sworn up and down just an hour ago you didn’t know how to handle kids.

“aw, megumi,” you say softly, reaching over and giving his little hand a squeeze. “i’ll still see you, i promise. maybe we can even play again sometime, okay?”

“but you’re leaving now,” he says, his voice quivering, clutching your hand with a desperation that tugs at your heart. 

“and daddy didn’t even kiss you.”

the absolute silence that follows is deafening. 

you feel your face go redder than it’s ever been, and a glance at toji shows he’s equally flustered, mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find some way to steer this conversation back to normal.

“whoa, hey now,” toji says, forcing a laugh as he clears his throat. “that’s, uh — that’s not how it works, kid.” he ruffles megumi’s hair a little too hard, clearly floundering. “and hey, don’t go crying over someone just leaving for the night, you’re stronger than that.”

“i don’t care,” megumi sniffles, clutching your hand tighter. “i like her. and she makes you smile.”

toji freezes, the color draining from his face for just a split second. 

makes him smile. 

he doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling, maybe more in one day than he has in months. he glances at you, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

“well…” toji’s voice is softer now, almost cautious, like he’s testing out words he hasn’t said in a long time. “

maybe… maybe she could come around again. if she wants to, that is.”

“i do.” you answer without thinking, your gaze drifting to megumi’s tear-streaked face, which immediately lights up.

“really?” megumi’s eyes shine, practically bouncing in his seat. “you promise?”

“i promise,” you say with a smile, giving him a reassuring nod. “as long as it’s okay with you and your dad, of course.”

“’s fine,” toji grumbles, running a hand over his face to hide his slight grin. “besides, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson or two at the arcade next time.”

“is that a challenge, toji?” you quip, smirking. “because if i remember right, megumi here got more tickets than both of us combined.”

“that’s because i taught him everything he knows,” toji scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this.

megumi sniffles one last time, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “then… you’ll come over soon, right?”

“absolutely,” you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest as you meet his hopeful gaze. “but only if you promise to keep practicing at the arcade. gotta keep that winning streak going, right?”

megumi grins, finally letting go of your hand as he settles back with a contented sigh. “deal.”

toji just shakes his head, muttering something about the “drama” gene clearly skipping a generation, though the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

as you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to say goodbye, you feel the car click with the unmistakable sound of the child lock. you glance back at megumi, who’s nodding off against his plushie pile, and back at toji, who’s already climbing out to walk you up to your door. 

gentlemanly of him, sure. 

though, the way his eyes linger on you… there’s more to it than that.

“i could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say, falling into step beside him as you head up to your building. “it’s not that far.”

“maybe i just felt like making sure you didn’t trip and embarrass yourself,” he shoots back, smirking as he nudges your shoulder.

“very chivalrous, fushiguro,” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning anyway. “honestly, you’re like a walking textbook definition of ‘gentleman.’”

“yeah, well,” he clears his throat, looking just a bit smug. “maybe i was raised right. or maybe,” his voice drops a little lower, “i just wanted an excuse to stick around a little longer.”

you blink, caught off guard by the soft rasp in his voice, the way his eyes are just a bit darker under the porch light.

“oh,” is all you manage, though your heartbeat’s doing a little somersault. “well… uh. here’s my door.”

“guess it is,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he takes a step closer, leaning against the doorframe like he’s meant to be there, like he’s settled in the idea of being right here, with you. 

“y’know… not a bad place to end the night.”

“yeah,” you say, feeling the words catch in your throat as you gaze up at him, taking in every detail, every shadow. “definitely not bad.”

the two of you are just standing there, a little too close, the space between you narrowing with every unspoken word. he glances down at your lips, and your pulse spikes — he’s thinking it too, right? but just as the moment seems to reach its tipping point, toji smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

“you know,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “still can’t believe you’re the same girl who wrote that… what was it again?” he chuckles, clearly remembering. “oh, right — ‘her legs wrapped around him like a vice, his name spilling from her lips like honey’.”

your face goes nuclear. 

that line. 

of all the lines, that one?

“you… you remember that?” you manage, mortified.

“’course i remember,” he says, that smug smirk firmly in place. “you think i just skimmed through your stuff?”

“well — i — ” your words are a mess, barely coherent. “i mean, i just thought —”

“nah, i’ve been reading it all.” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he leans just a little closer, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “you’ve got quite the imagination.”

“s-shut up,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “i was just… doing my job.”

“i know,” he says, voice soft but unyielding. “you’ve got talent.”

there’s a beat, silence stretching between you, the weight of his words settling over the both of you.

“...and you’ve got this whole heartthrob thing going for you,” you blurt out, finally meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “kind of makes it hard to believe you’re my colleague.”

“heartthrob, huh?” he smirks, voice dipping lower as his fingers drift to your chin, tilting your face up. 

“so that’s what you think of me?”

“i — i mean…” you stammer, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “maybe a little. just… a tiny bit.”

“tiny?” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch away. “could’ve sworn you looked a little more than just ‘tiny’ interested.”

“oh yeah?” your voice is a whisper now, almost breathless as you feel his breath on your skin, his gaze never wavering. “what if i was?”

“then i’d probably do this,” he mutters, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, and before you know it, his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly gentle.

your breath catches, and instinctively, you lean into him, letting his kiss deepen, his hand tracing slow, lazy patterns against your cheek. it’s everything you’d imagined and somehow even better, his presence grounding and electric all at once.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft but searching. “so… do i still get to be a heartthrob?”

“only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you murmur back, grinning like an idiot.

“deal,” he says, chuckling as he pulls you in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours like a promise.

ah, shit.

as toji slips back into the car, he barely manages to close the door before megumi’s voice hits him like a lightning bolt.

“daddy kissed the pretty lady!” megumi shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger from the backseat. “i saw it! you have that weird face on!”

toji’s eyebrows shoot up. “weird face? what weird face?” he tries to play it cool, adjusting the rearview mirror, but the ghost of that kiss is still painted on his lips, his pulse betraying him with every beat.

“that smile,” megumi says, wrinkling his nose in a perfect mirror of his dad’s usual expression of disdain. “you look like a… like a…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “...like a love puppy!”

toji chokes, stifling a laugh. “a love puppy? where the hell did you get that from?”

“it’s a thing, daddy,” megumi huffs, crossing his arms. “you have that goofy look, and your face is all soft. you only look like that when you’re being weird.”

“me? weird?” toji glances in the mirror, catching megumi’s glare. “kid, i think you’ve got this all wrong.”

“no, i don’t!” megumi insists, practically bouncing in his seat. “you were all ‘goo-goo eyes’ and ‘smoochy-smoochy’ and ‘mwah mwah mwah!’” he makes exaggerated kissing sounds, complete with squished-up lips and hand gestures, utterly scandalized by his dad’s sudden transformation.

“alright, alright, enough with the ‘mwah mwah.’” toji tries to suppress a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’ve been watching too many cartoons.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression serious. “nope. i knew it. i knew you liked her.” he narrows his eyes, as if seeing through toji’s very soul. “so… are you gonna marry her?”

toji’s eyes go wide. 

“whoa, whoa, hold on. nobody said anything about marriage.”

“but if you kiss someone, that means you wanna be with them forever, right?” megumi asks earnestly, looking way too wise for his age.

toji stares ahead, caught off-guard by the kid’s earnestness. 

that kiss… he didn’t plan it. he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he’d leaned in, felt the spark pull him closer. but now? 

yeah, the idea of just walking away feels… wrong. he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing.

“kid, sometimes people just… feel things, okay?” he says, his voice softer, more introspective. “even if they don’t really know why.”

megumi tilts his head, watching his dad closely. “so you do like her, then?”

toji snorts, pulling the car out onto the road. “alright, detective, settle down back there. no more snooping.”

they drive in a comfortable silence for a moment, but the radio has other plans. 

as if on cue, the familiar, aching chords of iris by the goo goo dolls come through the speakers, and toji swears he could feel the universe laughing at him.

“and i don’t want the world to see me, ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

toji clenches his jaw, feeling the lyrics press into him, each line stirring something restless and warm in his chest. he’s always been a guy with his walls up, always knew the stakes were too high to let anyone in. 

but tonight… tonight, he let his guard down. just for a second. 

he kissed you, tasted the softness of your lips, and the spark left him reeling.

“when everything’s meant to be broken, i just want you to know who i am…”

“daddy?” megumi’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “do you think… maybe you could see her again? so she could come play with us?”

toji blinks, glancing at megumi in the rearview mirror. “you really like her, huh?”

megumi nods vigorously. “yeah! she’s… nice. and fun.” his face softens. “and… she made you look happy.”

toji’s heart gives a strange, unfamiliar twist at that. 

happy, huh? 

he’s been around the block long enough to know that happiness isn’t exactly his best friend. but sitting here, listening to megumi, feeling that residual warmth from your kiss… it makes him wonder. 

wonder what life could look like with you in it.

but he pushes the thought away, focusing on the road. doesn’t change the fact that you’re just his colleague. right?

“and i’d give up forever to touch you…”

ugh.

he shifts uncomfortably, hoping megumi doesn’t notice his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. 

that kiss wasn’t just some fleeting thing — he’d known it the second he felt the warmth of you linger even after pulling away. the idea of letting you go now feels… impossible. something’s tugging him back, making him want more.

“hey, daddy,” megumi pipes up again, breaking toji’s brooding. “you got that look again.”

“what look?” toji mutters, trying to focus on anything but the goofy grin creeping back onto his face.

megumi smirks, mimicking toji’s soft expression. “that ‘i kissed a pretty lady’ look!”

toji laughs, shaking his head as he glances at megumi in the rearview mirror. “alright, alright. i guess you caught me.”

and as he drives home, the final notes of iris playing softly through the car, he can’t shake the feeling that this… whatever this is… isn’t something he’s ready to let go of.

ah, shit.

as soon as toji sets megumi down on his bed, tucking him in amongst the mountain of ridiculous plushies he’d somehow won at the arcade, he heads back to his room. sliding his phone out, he finds himself doing something he never thought he’d do: texting gojo. of all people.

with a reluctant sigh, he taps out a message, feeling a pang of embarrassment he can’t shake.

you [8:47 pm]: how long’s her contract with gojo sonic?

a moment later, he watches the screen, regretting even reaching out. but, of course, gojo wastes no time with a reply.

gojo s. [8:50 pm]: ohohohohooooo her contract???  gojo s. [8:50 pm]: i knew it. you’re smitten. you [8:51 pm]: don’t start. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: too late! c’mon, dish it out, big guy.  gojo s. [8:51 pm]: you guys had a moment, huh? the chemistry finally snapped? what’d ya do, kiss her?

toji clenches his jaw, hesitating before typing back. his thumb hovers, wondering how much grief he’d get for saying yes. finally, he mutters a curse under his breath and just goes for it.

you [8:53 pm]: ...yeah, i kissed her. happy?

he can practically feel gojo’s cackle vibrating through the phone.

gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WHAT???  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WAIT.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: oh, i need details.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: full play-by-play.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: like was it one of those slow, cinematic moments?  gojo s. [8:54 pm]: or was it a grab and smooch kinda deal??

toji rolls his eyes, fighting off a grin he refuses to admit is there. of all the reactions, he’d been prepared for gojo’s nosiness, but it’s still as annoying as ever.

you [8:55 pm]: shut it. i already said too much. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: pfffff as if i’m letting you get away with that tidbit and no context.  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did she look at you all wide-eyed?  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did you do that thing with your voice??  gojo s. [8:56 pm]: or was it just an accidental, “oh no, we tripped into each other’s faces” sorta thing?

toji rubs his temples, trying to block out how much his stupid heart rate picks up just remembering the way you looked up at him, the softness of your lips, the way it all felt so natural. he shakes his head, forcing the memory aside.

you [8:57 pm]: none of your business, and it’s private.  you [8:57 pm]: don’t you dare send any of this to suguru. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: oh relax! suguru’s not that nosy.  gojo s. [8:57 pm]: okay maybe he is.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: but he’s a romantic.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: think of it as getting free relationship coaching!! you [9:00 pm]: i swear to god satoru i’ll leave the company if you spill this.

there’s a pause, and for a second toji hopes that maybe he’s scared gojo off. 

but, predictably, the next message makes his blood pressure spike.

gojo s. [9:05 pm]: ohhhhh no no you’re not getting off that easy.  gojo s. [9:05 pm]: i’m calling dibs on being the flower girl at your wedding. suguru can be the maid of honor.  gojo s. [9:06 pm]: no nvm he’d wanna be the best man gojo s. [9:06 pm]: I’LL GET MEGUMI TO CARRY THE RINGS gojo s. [9:06 pm]: genius.

toji practically growls at his phone, already regretting every second of this conversation.

you [9:07 pm]: i’ll delete this whole damn thread. this never happened, got it? gojo s. [9:09 pm]: aww, toji bear, don’t be like that. i’ll take care of your little love story for you, promise. consider me your personal wingman.  gojo s. [9:10 pm]: now tell me this — when’s round two of smooch central happening? you [9:11 pm]: goodnight, satoru.

and with that, he shoves his phone onto his nightstand, rubbing his face with a hand. he can still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss, the way his heart skipped, the unexpected tenderness that’s lodged itself in his mind. 

stupid.

he shouldn’t have even told gojo.

but as much as he regrets letting it slip, he doesn’t regret the kiss itself. 

not even a bit.

as soon as you slam your door shut, you just… stand there for a minute, heart racing, and press your fingers to your lips like it’ll somehow reverse what just happened. 

you kissed toji fushiguro. 

the toji fushiguro.

colleague extraordinaire, with biceps that could probably benchpress your entire life’s savings, and that smirk… oh god, that smirk that had you in a daze.

but the problem? 

there was a mini him there. 

a little him with matching black hair and a sharp gaze. 

you thought he was, like, the cool uncle? but… he’s a dad? 

and if he’s a dad… does that mean he’s married? are you the other woman?!

you pace around, practically stomping into the carpet. 

“okay, okay, let’s think this through,” you mutter, putting your hands on your hips. 

“he… he could be a single dad, right? it’s 2024, it’s not that weird for people to have kids without, like, commitment commitments. but then again, he does look like the type who’d… i don’t know, maybe be exclusive? probably?”

your brain is racing, and you’re spinning yourself into circles. 

“i mean, i haven’t seen a ring on his finger… but maybe he just doesn’t wear it?” you plop down on your couch, practically sinking into it as you cover your face with both hands.

ugh.

“did i just kiss a married man? or worse… what if he’s, like, engaged? or has a live-in girlfriend? or — oh my god, what if he’s in some high-profile relationship and i just stepped into the middle of it? —”

you groan, flopping back. “but he… he definitely leaned in first. i’m not hallucinating. he did! but then, if he’s that willing to kiss me, does that mean he’s… a cheater?”

you sit up and shake your head, wide-eyed. “okay, no, i refuse to believe that toji fushiguro, mr. brooding and brooding-er with a kid who listens to korn, is a cheater. there’s no way… right?”

your own voice is almost pleading as you try to convince yourself, pacing again. 

“i mean, maybe he’s just… really, really committed to… being mysterious. yeah, that makes sense. he’s keeping everything a secret, so that just leaves me spiraling about him… perfect. just perfect.”

you smack a hand against your forehead. “why couldn’t i have asked literally any of this earlier?” you shake your head. “right, because i was too busy kissing him.”

you throw yourself back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, the whole thing replaying in your head. 

that look he gave you, the warmth of his hand on your back…

stop.

but it’s too late. your brain keeps running with it.

“what if… what if he has no idea i’m freaking out?” you frown. “oh, he probably doesn’t. and here i am, making a whole drama out of one kiss.” you let out a deep sigh.

you flop onto your bed, heart still pounding, and stare up at the ceiling, fingers absently grazing your lips. 

burning loins, they said. melting from one kiss, they said. 

well, no one exactly said that — except every steamy novel you’ve ever read or written, but that’s beside the point.

you groan, kicking your feet up in frustration. this isn’t one of your own novels! it’s supposed to be real life! but now here you are, in the aftermath of what was arguably the best kiss you’ve ever had, practically combusting at the memory of it.

“if one kiss with toji — no, any man — can get me this hot and bothered, how am i supposed to handle it if i ever… you know…” your voice trails off, and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow as if it’ll smother the absurd train of thought. 

but then, just as you start to get your mind off it, his face pops back up in your head.

“oh god,” you mumble, pulling the pillow over your face. “this is pathetic.” you roll over again, laughing helplessly to yourself. 

if this is what one or two kisses do to me… what’ll happen if we actually have sex?

your eyes snap open. “okay, no. no! i didn’t mean toji, i meant, like… any guy! any guy at all! but, oh god, why is it always him?!”

you stare at the ceiling, huffing as your brain keeps looping back to him. 

his stupidly attractive smirk, the way his hand was firm but gentle on your back, how he looked at you as if you were his next breath. 

girl, get a grip.

“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, swatting at your face like it’ll erase his image from your mind. but it doesn’t work; he’s right there, all hot and smug in your imagination. ugh, this isn’t fair!

it’s like all those countless hours you spent spinning erotic fantasies are coming back to haunt you — and in the most inconvenient, infuriating way possible. you scrunch up your face, realizing with mild horror that maybe… just maybe… you wrote this scenario into existence for yourself.

“oh no… is this karma?” you groan, curling up and swatting the air in helpless embarrassment. “girl, this is not supposed to happen in real life. or with toji.”

but there it is: his face, and your wildly racing heart, and the undeniable, excruciating heat pooling in your belly that refuses to quit.

but even with the spiraling, there’s one thing you can’t deny: as much as it’s driving you crazy, as much as you’re practically scaring yourself into thinking you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life…

you kinda don’t regret it. and that’s the scariest part.

ah, shit.

you step into gojo-sonic, clutching your bag with a little more intensity than usual, and it’s as if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. 

the energy is somehow… different. you expect to be greeted with the usual casual nods and waves, but instead, gojo is practically skipping toward you, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming the new queen of the recording studio.

“there she is! our star of the show, our resident heart-throb wrangler!” he coos, louder than necessary. his grin is blinding, and you’re caught between the urge to backpedal out of the building or dive under the nearest desk.

“uh… good morning?” you reply, more like a question than a statement, glancing around to see if anyone else is picking up on his hyperness. it’s like he’s had twelve cups of coffee or ten bags of skittles. “gojo, you’re… kind of extra today.”

“extra? extra?” he throws a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming. “honey, i’m never just ‘extra.’ i am exactly the right amount of gojo for the occasion.”

“and what occasion is that, exactly?”

“oh, nothing much, just a certain someone having an… enlightening encounter last night,” he says with a wink so exaggerated it looks like he’s trying to shoo a bug off his face.

you stiffen. “wait, how do you…?”

“oh, come on,” he waves it off, laughing. “you think you can keep something like that from me? i mean, i might be blessed with an enormous amount of talent, looks, and charisma, but i also happen to have eyes and ears everywhere.” he taps his temple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“seriously?” you glance around, your stomach sinking a little, looking for any sign of smirking coworkers or curious eyes, but everyone’s just… normal? going about their business, not sparing you a second glance. relief washes over you, only to be swept away by gojo’s piercing stare.

“oh, don’t worry. i haven’t shared your scandalous rendezvous with the world. only i am privy to this delightful information — for now,” he adds, wagging a finger. “and don’t look so shocked! nothing juicy stays hidden from me for long. i know all the company secrets.”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. “gojo, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it’s not like…” you trail off, realizing he’s hanging on to your every word, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“uh-huh,” he drawls, drawing the word out. “not a big deal, you say? then why do you look like you’re about to start sweating bullets?”

“i’m not sweating bullets,” you say through clenched teeth, then give in and sigh. “look, we just… it was just a… i mean, we’re colleagues, and things got a little… friendly. it doesn’t have to mean anything!”

gojo gasps, mock-horrified. “oh, but darling, this is precisely why it’s so interesting! you, of all people, getting caught up with toji fushiguro? and here i thought you’d sworn off office romances.”

“it’s not an office romance,” you insist, voice practically a whisper. “we just… kissed. once. or twice. maybe. but it doesn’t mean anything!”

gojo leans in, conspiratorially. “and yet you look ready to combust from the inside out just talking about it.”

you huff, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “maybe it’s because someone is making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“you wound me!” he presses a hand dramatically to his chest, giving you an exaggerated pout. “but don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. i only told you so you’d know that i know. and, you know, to make things extra awkward in case mr. heart-throb walks in.”

“oh, so you’re really just out to make my life difficult?”

he grins, all teeth. “precisely.”

just then, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate, toji strolls in. he’s the absolute picture of normalcy, no hint whatsoever of last night’s… moment. 

in fact, he gives you a polite nod, a polite nod, as if he hadn’t had you pressed against your own door just hours ago.

“morning,” he says casually, voice smooth, tone nonchalant. he doesn’t even so much as smirk.

you nearly choke. polite nod? normal greeting? did he forget the entire thing? 

“oh, morning,” you manage, clearing your throat, feeling like you’re about to combust again.

gojo, however, is having the time of his life. he’s practically vibrating next to you, watching the exchange with glee.

“morninggg, fushiguro,” he greets toji, voice syrupy with unrestrained glee. “any exciting news today?”

toji raises an eyebrow, shooting him a confused look. “uh, no? everything’s pretty normal.” his eyes flick over to you, calm, almost neutral, as if he hadn’t kissed you senseless just last night.

you clench your jaw. is he really going to act like this? you nearly feel like gaslighting yourself into thinking last night never happened. maybe you just dreamed it, right?

toji’s gaze flicks away from you, unperturbed, as he moves over to get his things ready for the day’s recording. and that’s when gojo leans over and mutters under his breath, “you sure you don’t want to just… remind him?”

“i hate you,” you mutter back, trying not to smile, knowing that he’s secretly rooting for you to fall flat on your face with this whole ordeal.

“i live for your misery, my friend,” he replies with a wink.

meanwhile, toji was absolutely in another dimension of romcom chaos himself, feeling like some kind of high school kid who just had his first crush. he woke up grinning, actually giggling as he got dressed. 

giggling. when was the last time he did that? 

he nearly skipped out the door, and on his drive to work, he found himself humming, humming, to his car stereo like some lovestruck fool. and he didn’t stop there. oh no. 

by the time he reached gojo-sonic, he’d already run through a few extra vocal warm-ups in the car — something he never did this early. he cleared his throat and ran through his usual lines twice, even testing his pitch a bit. no, not because he wanted to be extra smooth today, of course not. he was doing it for the… for the paycheck. 

definitely.

but as soon as he walked into the studio, and he saw you standing there beside gojo, looking all kinds of pretty and polished… he practically heard violins. except no, it wasn’t violins. 

it was, somehow, worse.

his mind cued up dancing queen.

“no. nope. nope.” he muttered under his breath, trying to swat the ridiculous soundtrack out of his mind. but it wouldn’t stop. 

“dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh, yeah….”

why, in the name of all things sacred, was his brain doing this to him? he was toji fushiguro, not some idiot falling over his own feet for a girl at work. he gave himself a good shake, squared his shoulders, and tried to keep his composure. yet every time he caught your eye, his chest did a little flip — and dammit if he didn’t want to just pick you up and give you another kiss right then and there.

“morning,” he forced out, nodding as casually as he could.

and there you were, gaping back with that hint of nervousness, looking like you might combust from just a regular “good morning.” 

god, it was almost cute enough to make him actually laugh out loud.

“she’s just a colleague,” he reminded himself, over and over again, as he worked to keep the grin off his face. “a colleague. not some romcom lead you just made out with in front of her apartment.”

yet the way dancing queen kept droning in his head, as if mocking his every move? toji was seriously questioning whether he’d woken up in some kind of alternate reality.

and he just knew gojo was watching the whole thing with a smug look, likely dying to crack a joke, or worse, belt out dancing queen if he somehow figured out what was in toji’s head. 

and knowing gojo? he probably already had.

the studio door clicked shut as gojo swept out with an exaggerated bow, holding up his finger in a silent “one minute” before he launched into his call with suguru in a voice loud enough to be heard two floors down. gojo was probably already going on about the “incredible chemistry” between his favorite team members, or whatever nonsense he’d decided on for today. 

and with him out of the room, it was just you and toji. 

alone. 

in silence.

you shifted on your feet, eyes darting everywhere except directly at him, yet somehow landing right back on him. it was like your brain had a toji magnet switched on, and no matter how hard you tried to look elsewhere, you found yourself glancing back at him.

finally, the quiet got so charged that you both ended up blurting out at the exact same time —

“are you single?”

you both froze, then looked at each other, wide-eyed, like you couldn’t believe you’d just asked that out loud.

“uh,” toji coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “well. yeah, i am. single, that is.

“oh.” you tried to act cool, but it came out as a slightly breathless squeak. “good to know.”

“and you?” he asked, voice low, almost cautious, as if bracing himself for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“also single,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “which… is also good to know.”

there was a beat of quiet where you both just kind of looked at each other, a half-smile creeping onto his face as you kept shifting on your feet, practically melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“so…” you cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting a little as you gathered the nerve to ask the next thing. “didn’t know you had a kid.”

“oh, yeah.” toji chuckled, a hint of fondness lighting up his expression as he thought of his son. “he’s my kid, alright. handful and a half, that one.”

“he’s adorable.” you smiled, thinking back to the mini toji who had totally stolen your heart. “how old is he?”

“eight.” toji’s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone that you’d never heard before. “he, uh… he means a lot to me. not that i’d ever tell him that, though. don’t want him thinking he’s got me wrapped around his little finger or anything.”

you laughed, picturing the little boy with his big grin and fearless energy. “something tells me he already knows.”

“yeah, probably.” toji laughed too, and for a moment, there was an ease between you, a shared warmth that made the whole moment feel so… natural.

“so… um, are you, like… a single dad?” you asked, careful with your words, not wanting to pry too deeply.

“yeah.” his answer was simple, but there was a weight to it. “just me and the kid. been that way for a while.”

“that’s…” you bit your lip, not sure what to say without sounding weirdly sentimental. “that’s admirable. megumi’s lucky to have you.

“i don’t know about all that,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise but unable to hide a small smile. “just doing what i can, you know?”

“still,” you said, feeling a swell of admiration you hadn’t expected. “it’s impressive. and honestly… seeing you with him yesterday? it was… kinda heartwarming.”

toji looked at you, eyes softening in a way that made your heart stutter. 

“thanks,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “means a lot, hearing that.”

the two of you stood there, closer than you realized, in this weird bubble where everything felt warm and intense and perfect. just as you felt that strange magnetic pull drawing you closer, like maybe you’d just close the gap and —

the studio door banged open.

“don’t stop on my account!” gojo sing-songed, practically sashaying back into the room, a smirk plastered across his face.

you both leaped back, clearing your throats and suddenly finding the walls, the floor, anything else in the room utterly fascinating.

“alright, lovebirds, let’s get this recording started, shall we?” gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked between the two of you, not even pretending he hadn’t just caught a whole moment.

toji settled into the recording booth, leaning back in the chair with the script in hand, his voice dipping to that low, gravelly tone that made every line sound like an invitation.

“so,” he began, speaking as the dragon king to the main character in the script, his words practically dripping with intensity, “you think you can resist me? i see right through you… even the bravest warriors have trembled at my touch.”

your breath caught as he delivered the line, eyes wide as you watched him through the glass. 

you couldn’t help it — his character was practically staring into your soul, voice thick and slow, practically wrapping around each word.

“do you know what happens to those who challenge me?” toji continued, his eyes narrowing as he held the script in one hand, his gaze piercing. “they are forced to surrender… one way or another.”

outside the booth, you practically felt yourself melting, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt. 

toji’s voice, his delivery — it was all too much. how was it possible for him to sound that… that intense? it was like he was actually speaking to you.

“ah, beautiful.” gojo, standing beside you, broke in with a theatrical sigh. “our dragon king sounds magnificent, doesn’t he? i could practically faint!”

you shot him a quick glare, barely masking a smirk. “keep it down, gojo. he’s in the middle of it.”

“oh, i’m just here to appreciate the artistry,” gojo whispered back, feigning innocence as he leaned in to watch, hands clasped together dramatically.

“the choice is yours,” toji went on, his voice softer now, laced with something tender that made it impossible to look away. “join me… or keep pretending this —” he emphasized the word, letting it linger “ — isn’t exactly what you’ve been wanting.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the glass. 

was he delivering that line as the dragon king or as… well, toji?

but then —

“ohhhh!” gojo chimed in loudly, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by an arrow. “the passion! the romance! our hero’s heart is pounding!”

toji paused, rolling his eyes as he looked at gojo through the glass. “you really gonna keep interrupting, gojo?”

“oh, don’t mind me,” gojo said, waving a hand. “i’m simply enjoying the magic in the air! please, carry on. do go on.” he pretended to dab at his eyes. “so moving.”

toji gave a small sigh but threw you a barely-there smile before settling back into character.

“and when you finally stop running…” his voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through it. 

“i’ll be here, waiting… because you belong to me, whether you admit it or not.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer pull of his voice. 

you didn’t know if it was his talent as a voice actor, the lines he was reading, or him, but every word was drawing you in deeper, bit by bit.

“ah, what is it like to be so passionately claimed by a dragon king? how riveting!” gojo murmured dramatically, as if providing a play-by-play to an audience. “she’s helpless, entranced! they both know she’s falling!”

toji cast a pointed look at gojo, barely concealing a smirk. “you done yet, gojo?”

gojo merely grinned, shrugging. “hey, i’m just here to make sure the romance shines through. and oh, don’t worry — it’s definitely shining.”

toji rolled his eyes but kept going, lowering his voice to a rumbling murmur. “if you don’t know where your heart lies, then i’ll show you.” 

he paused, his words lingering in the air like a promise, like he was speaking directly to you.

by now, the studio felt suffused with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. it didn’t help that every time gojo piped in with another comment, it only made you feel more painfully aware of every detail: the way toji’s gaze kept flickering your way, the way your own pulse raced faster with each line he spoke.

“the truth is right in front of you,” toji continued, his voice dropping low, rough, something smoldering behind each word. “all you have to do is reach out… and claim it.”

“gorgeous! breathtaking!” gojo burst out, clapping his hands loudly. “i can practically see the sparks flying! ah, young love!”

toji finally broke character, raising a brow at gojo with a look of pure exasperation. “you gonna let me finish or not?”

gojo waved a hand. “fine, fine. but for real — if you two don’t kiss after this, i might have to stage a re-shoot.”

both you and toji threw your hands up simultaneously, voices raised in exasperation. 

“gojo, would you please stop interrupting!”

“yeah, seriously, man,” toji added, shaking his head as he glanced over at you with a shared look of pure frustration.

“okay, okay! sheesh!” gojo shrieked, actually shrieked, as he staggered back in mock terror, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “all i wanted was to witness some workplace romance! is that so wrong?”

“yes, gojo, very wrong,” you shot back, rubbing your temples. “this is literally supposed to be professional — you should know that.”

toji snorted, crossing his arms as he smirked at gojo. “for once, i agree. you’ve got all the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler.”

“excuse me,” gojo replied, flipping an imaginary hair strand over his shoulder. “i’ll have you know my artistic eye is very advanced.” he let out a huff, but from the grin on his face, you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

you shook your head, exasperated. “look, can we just get this recording done without any more —”

“interruptions,” toji finished for you, raising a brow as he glanced over at gojo.

“fine, fine!” gojo finally backed off, dramatically sliding into a chair in the corner, arms folded in mock offense. “i’ll be silent as a stone. a beautiful, thoughtful stone.”

you exchanged another look with toji, both of you sighing in unison. 

something told you both that it was going to be a very long day, especially with gojo’s creative direction…

toji, after finishing a solid block of recording, had ended up chatting with the sound techs, leaving you flipping through your phone while you waited. 

gojo, in his usual meddling fashion, suddenly brightened up and declared, “oh! why don’t you have a little chat with suguru? i told him you were here. he insisted on saying hello!”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh, sure?”

gojo sent you a link to join the video call, and soon suguru’s face popped up on the screen. his calm expression softened slightly when he saw you. “well, hello there. gojo wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had a new ‘star’ at the studio.”

you laughed, feeling a bit flustered. “thanks, geto! i hear you’re a partner at a... famous wine company?”

suguru gave a modest shrug. “yeah, it’s called persephone. it’s a small project that grew bigger than i expected. i handle a lot of the sourcing and marketing — keeps me away from here most of the time.”

“persephone? i’ve heard great things about it!” you said, genuinely impressed. “the way gojo talks about it, it sounds like a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, glancing to the side as if recalling memories. “i started it with a... friend, actually. she was passionate about wine and had a vision that i couldn’t help but support. i guess i have a soft spot for her, and i... well, care about her a lot.”

you felt your heart warm a little at his sincerity, and the slight hesitation when he spoke of his partner. “it sounds like you two have something special going on,” you said, offering a supportive smile. “i’m sure she appreciates everything you do, especially with how involved you are. and honestly? best of luck. that kind of partnership sounds really meaningful.”

suguru gave a small nod, a faint, appreciative smile on his face. 

“thank you. i think she’d like you. maybe one day, if you ever make it out here for one of gojo’s wild wine-tasting parties, we can all meet up.”

“i’d love that!” you replied, already imagining how intriguing that partnership might be. and as you finished up the conversation, it struck you that you’d gotten a glimpse of a different side of suguru — one he clearly didn’t reveal often.

toji hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the second he saw you on a video call with suguru, laughing over whatever he was saying, he couldn’t help it. he’d been halfway listening to the sound tech drone on about waveform patterns, but all of that faded when he caught sight of you smiling on-screen. 

who exactly were you talking to like that? why did you look so happy?

the tech was still talking beside him, but toji’s focus was elsewhere. 

suguru. 

that damn calm, collected face of his. 

the same suguru who he’d seen only sparingly around the company, mostly through gojo’s random updates, but who was still one of the few people gojo actually respected.

toji squinted, his jaw tightening as he took a few steps toward you and pretended it was a casual stroll.

why was he doing this? it wasn’t like he had any claim on you, right? 

sure, there was that one kiss — or, well, those two kisses, actually. 

but still. 

he was a grown man, not some jealous kid. yet here he was, feeling like he had to size up suguru over a damn screen.

before he even realized it, toji had closed the distance. without asking, he leaned over your shoulder, practically shoving his face into the camera view as he met suguru’s face.

“hey, suguru,” he drawled, and the way his voice came out a little gruff didn’t escape him. “didn’t know you were interrupting a busy studio day here.”

you blinked, wide-eyed at his sudden closeness, but toji kept his eyes on suguru, ignoring your flustered reaction. suguru looked almost amused, raising an eyebrow at toji’s unannounced intrusion.

“toji. i’m just saying hi to the new talent here,” suguru replied with a smooth smile, clearly unfazed. “i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me meeting one of satoru’s top finds.”

“top find?” toji scoffed, feeling a weird pang at the words. “i’m the one doing all the work here.”

you shot him a look, somewhere between surprised and amused. “toji —”

but he just grunted and kept going, ignoring your attempt to intervene. “so, suguru, been busy with all that wine business, huh?” he went on, as if suguru’s whole life story had suddenly become his priority.

“pretty much,” suguru replied, a slight smirk in his tone. “it’s been keeping me busy, and i have a…close partner who keeps me grounded. speaking of which,” he turned his gaze to you with an amused smile, “she was the one who started persephone. i’m really just there to support her vision.”

“sounds convenient,” toji muttered, but suguru just chuckled.

you nudged him with your elbow, giving him a warning look. “toji, come on,” you whispered, as if he was the one being out of line here.

he let out a low sigh, then pulled back slightly, looking at you as if he’d just remembered himself. “what? ’m just makin’ sure you’re not getting dragged into any fancy wine scams or whatever.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “geto’s company is doing fine, toji. it’s called persephone.”

toji folded his arms and gave a dismissive shrug. “well, just saying. i know people.” 

the whole room seemed to go a bit quieter, and toji cleared his throat, looking away from suguru's patient amusement.

“nice meeting you, toji,” suguru added, with a slight tilt of his head. “take care of our new ‘top find’ there, alright?”

toji clenched his jaw a little at the words, then nodded, pretending he wasn’t glaring at the camera. “yeah, yeah. we’re all set here.”

as the call ended, you turned to him, eyebrows raised, clearly wanting an explanation. “what was that about?”

toji scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “just, y’know…making sure you weren’t getting yourself in with shady people.”

“oh? like, you?”

he let out a bark of laughter, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. “hey, i’m not shady — i’m just thorough.”

you raised an eyebrow. “thorough? right, that’s the word you’re going with?”

“yeah. and what — you mad at me for caring?”

at that, you went quiet, a faint blush touching your cheeks. 

and toji? well, he could only think of those two kisses again, and how stupidly close he’d just gotten to the camera just to… what? size up suguru? 

he mentally groaned. what was wrong with him?

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[jinwoosbabyboo]

Talk to Me, I Talk Back

The Lads Men don't play about you HOWEVER COMMA you also don't play about them. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

You and Zayne were standing in line to order coffee. The line moved slowly and just as you two were up next some lady pushed in front of you, shoving Zayne into you.

MC: She don't see us?

Zayne: I'm sure she has her reasons for cutting

MC: She shoved you Zayne

Zayne: Let's not cause a scene in this cafe

MC: Frankly I don't give a damn

You stepped up bumping the lady with your hip hard. She tumbled off to the side nearly falling face first into the display case.

Stranger: Well excuse me!

MC: You're excused wait in line next time instead of shoving my man out of the way.

Zayne: So much for not causing a scene *pinching the bridge of his nose*

Rafayel

You decided to go on a walk with Rafayel because he wanted to clear his head before he started sketching. He spoke animatedly making big gestures with his hands and ended up accidentally knocking a passerby's phone from their hand.

Stranger: Hey asshole watch yourself!

Rafayel: Sorry ma'am it was an accident

Stranger: What if you broke it!?

MC: *picks up her phone* It landed in the grass without a scratch its fi-

The stranger snatched it from your hand. You draw back in shock and looked at Rafayel to make sure he was seeing this tomfoolery as well.

Rafayel: *whispering* stay calm

Stranger: Tell your boyfriend to be more careful!

MC: *Snatches the phone and slams it on the concrete* Maybe you should be more careful look at that you broke your phone

You grabbed Rafayels' wrist and pulled him along.

Rafayel: That was sexy ... I think I'm hard now

Xavier

You and Xavier stood outside of Jeremiahs flower shop trying to agree on somewhere to eat. Suddenly a stranger waddled up and shoved a stack of papers in Xaviers arms.

Stranger: Hand these out

Xavier: Uhhh

MC: You could ask a bit nicer don't you think?

Stranger: Shut up lady this is a conversation between men

You tucked your phone in your pocket, grabbed the stack of papers from Xavier and dropped them in the nearest trash can.

MC: Now your conversation is done let's go Xav

The stranger sputtered in disbelief as you dragged Xavier away.

Xavier: He probably just needed help

MC: Maybe he'll ask nicer next time and you need to stop letting random strangers make you hand out flyers

Xavier: It's hard to say no

MC: If I had a dollar for every time I found you handing out flyers I'd have two dollars...it's not a lot, but it’s insane that it happened twice.

Sylus

You were standing in line for checkout and Sylus sauntered over to you after you sent him back to grab a pair of jeans that you wanted.

Stranger: Uhm excuse me sir the line starts back there

MC: Oh he's with me

Stranger: I'm not talking to you I'm talking to this rude idiot

You look at Sylus who is giving this Karen a bored stare. You look around dramatically before looking up at Sylus in disbelief.

MC: Who is she talking to?

Sylus: Couldn't be us

You look back to the Karen who's red in the face with anger. You step around Sylus so you're face to face with this lady.

MC: Let's use our big girl brains here … if he's with me why would he stand at the back of the line?

Stranger: He cut the li-

You raised your hand to stop her.

MC: Your mouth is moving a lot like a rat shut it please

You finally get called to the next open register and Sylus leans down to whisper in your ear.

Sylus: You're feisty today ... you don't like seeing people be rude to me?

MC: She's lucky I didn't punch her in her jaw

Sylus: So violent, but I'm the cruel one?

[yawnderu]

If Simon and bimbo!reader ever had a big fight (not petty disagreements), what would they fight about? How do both handle serious fights and making up?

ahhhh :((( anon when I catch you. It'd likely be at the beginning of the relationship, before she knows about his job and he always leaves for weeks without telling her much about it

>Simon and bimbo!reader fight and make up.

“I just don't understand why you do this to me... just tell me.” Your voice is as pleading as it is demanding, eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in a mix of frustration and sadness.

“I can't—” He's interrupted by a small scoff coming out of you, your arms crossed as you look away and take a deep breath. He's never seen you like this before, never so... frustrated and angry. Anxiety starts to fill his soul within seconds, stuck between wanting to keep you away from his job, and wanting to reassure you.

“Do you just.... have a second family or something? Is that what it is?” The accusation makes his own face scrunch up in a mix of mild disgust and confusion. Was his unwavering loyalty to you not obvious? He never even looks at other women at all, his eyes are for you only.

“I don't.” It's all he can say to defend himself. How does he go about telling you he kills people for a living? Sure, he's protecting the world and serving the Queen, but would you look at him differently when you find out the same hands that are so gentle with you will forever be tainted with another's blood?

“Then what is it, Simon?” You never call him Simon. Even when you first met, you've always called him Si. He lets out a small sigh, shaking his head. He doesn't want to be around to fight, he just wants it all to be okay like before— yet he also understands why you're acting that way after months of being kept in the dark.

“I'll be back later.” He turns around to leave the shared flat, only being stopped by another scoff.

“Fine. Leave like you always do.” It was a low blow, you can tell that much by the way his muscles visibly tense up, bulging out of his black shirt. He shakes his head, the hand on the doorknob trembling slightly. He loves you more than anything, but can he really handle seeing the expression on your face when he tells you why he's away?

“'M in the military.” He finally turns around, walking back to you and holding your hand, sitting down on the couch and pulling you on his lap, one of his hands running down the length of your hair.

“SAS. I'll show you my contracts if you don't believe me.” He's willing to do anything to make you believe him. Each silent second only increases his anxiety, barely managing to look down at you just to see the gears shifting in your brain, putting two and two together.

“.... Is that why you always stink when you come back?” There's enough mirth in your tone to let him know you're joking, barely managing to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“Y'sniff me like a fuckin' police dog when I'm back, love. You like it.” No matter how much you roll your eyes in fake annoyance and pretend you don't like it, you both know the truth. You cuddle up closer to him, resting comfortably on his burly body.

“Y'wear the cool uniforms, Si?” Your voice is softer, almost shy to even ask the question. He knows you like masked men— he's heard you rant about Pyramid Head and Ghostface enough times already. He hums softly in reply, nodding his head.

“Sometimes. Cool mask and all, you'd like it.” He's just teasing you at this point, trying to hold back a smile when he feels you rapidly shifting in his arms just to get closer to his face, unable to hide your excitement.

“Yeah? Can I see?” Your giddiness is almost contagious, making a deep chuckle finally escape his lips. You're not looking at him like he's a monster, you're simply excited about the idea of him wearing a mask. Maybe letting you see Ghost isn't a bad idea.

“Hmm...” He drags out, looking away and pretending to think about it just to tease you. The smack to his arm is enough to make him grin at you, stealing a kiss before adjusting you on his lap, finally allowing his body to fully relax.

“Yeah, I'll show you.”

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[yeoobiii]

hello, can I ask you to write a mini story about Heeseung, where he teaches Y/n how to kiss 🙏🏻

⋆｡°✩ 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙

꩜ bestfriend!heeseung x gn!reader

꩜ best friends to lovers (?), first kisses

꩜ during a game of truth or dare you admit to all your friends for the first time that you've never been kissed and that you're frankly scared you'll mess up once the situation presents itself. Heeseung sees a perfect opportinity to help you out with that.

or: Heeseung teaches his best friend how to kiss and both of you get a bit lost in it

wc: 5.1k (this has gotten a bit longer than I intended to but honestly I just went with the flow and here we are.)

warnings: consumption of alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request, anon! btw requests are open if you'd like me to write something specific, I can't promise you anything on how quickly I'll get it done or if it's something I'm up to writing but like the link is in my bio :)

I hope you like this, anon!

There’s a few things none of your college friends knew about you. Despite knowing most of them for over three years now, some things just never came up naturally in conversation. Like the fact that you’ve not had your first kiss yet.

Why make a big deal out of it? You’ve also never been in love before. You didn’t feel the urge to inform everyone about these things, especially since most of your friends have a rather active dating life. You wanted to do these things at your own pace and didn’t want anyone involved in how you could “solve that problem”. You simply never intended on telling them. That is until last weekend happened and somehow your roommates were able to convince you to participate in a game of truth or dare.

It was a Thursday night and your roommate told you that they were having a few friends over for a cozy hang out and you were definitely down to chill with them because the both of you were friends with similar people and got along great in general, so having a few drinks with your friends in your dorm room seemed like a nice way to spend the evening.

And everything went smoothly enough, people were trickling in and out, the overall vibe very casual and comfortable. That is however until your friend Sofia suggested a game of truth or dare. To be fair, the overall intake of alcohol increased as the evening was progressing. It was almost inevitable that a suggestion like that would arouse sooner or later.

Before you even properly thought about it, you agreed to play and sat down in a circle with around five other tipsy college students.

Only later on did your brain register that Heeseung was one of the few chosen ones. For a split second you even wondered when he had arrived, but then you remembered that he greeted you with a friendly embrace when he first arrived about half an hour ago.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him participating in the same game, the both of you were friends after all.

You met Heeseung pretty much the first day college started, you were both in stats together and happened to be sitting next to each other on the first day and it’s been like that ever since. However, you guys didn’t hit it off right away, you were friendly with each other, sure, but that mostly also out of convenience and occasionally you shared your notes with each other or he was making sure you didn’t fall asleep in class. It was all really casual and you would have considered him more like a colleague than a friend.

That was the case until one particular night that was destined to shape the kind of friendship the two of you would have with each other forever.

It was one of your first frat parties, the first semester was about to end and freshmen with various kinds of majors gathered to celebrate this collective milestone. Safe to say the liquor was being poured without much hesitation.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve run into Heeseung at a frat party either. Usually you’d shoot each other the occasional nod, acknowledging the other’s presence and moving on with your night and that’s all there was to it.

However, fate had other plans for this particular night.

At one point you excused yourself from the dance floor and went out the back door into the small garden to catch some fresh air, to your surprise not many people were out there, just you and a small group of three people maybe, who seemed to be passing around a blunt.

It took you a second glance to not only see your roommate but also Heeseung being part of that group, your roommate immediately greeting you enthusiastically upon locking eyes with you and beckoning for you to sit with them.

Shortly after you were sitting on your ass, your roommate's arm interlocked with yours, being pulled into the conversation easily.

Heeseung sent a brief smile of acknowledgement your way, before taking a hit from the joint. You returned his smile and also greeted the fourth person sitting with you who was eventually introduced as Heeseung’s friend Jake.

The joint was being passed around and eventually landed in your hand as well and afterwards the conversation seemed to flow effortlessly. You joked and laughed along to whatever your company was saying but were also emerged in the more heated discussions.

At one point you were so deep into the conversation with Jake that you didn’t even realize your roommate getting up and going back inside and like ten minutes later, Jakes excused himself to the bathroom and didn’t seem to return anymore.

Which only left Heeseung and you.

Now, you’d be lying if you’d say being in such close proximity with a cute guy like Heeseung, all by yourselves in this somewhat intimate setting left you completely unaffected. You could feel yourself growing slightly flustered at nothing in particular, but you eventually catched yourself when Heeseung asked.

“So, what’s your favorite dinosaur?”

You fell into comfortable conversation after that and the longer the night went on, the more intense the topics got.

Whenever you think back to that one particular part of the evening it kinda feels like Heeseung and you were the only two things existing at the moment. Your brain didn’t register the people stepping in and out of the garden as the hours passed by. 

It was well past 3am when you checked your phone for the time since sitting down. You told Heeseung and he was just as shocked as you were at how quickly the time had passed, almost apologizing for taking up so much of your time, but you assured him you were enjoying yourself.

“It has been a while since I sat down like that and was able to talk to someone for hours about whatever popped into my head.” You admitted to him and he seemed satisfied with that judging by the smile that graced his lips.

“Me too.”

And you could swear by the way his eyes shimmered in that moment that there was something – whatever that may have been – between the both of you. Or maybe it was just the weed.

Regardless of what you guys shared was something different than what you thought it might have been, you grew close very quickly after that evening. Heeseung started to joke around with you in class, you eventually asked him for his number and social media, he started sending you memes occasionally, you started to hang out outside of class in your little friend group.

At one point you were convinced he was actively seeking you out at parties, because ever since that evening, you always bumped into each other sooner or later during the night.

And whatever there might have been that one evening, nothing came of it. However, it almost seemed like you grew closer to Heeseung than all your other friends. People in your friend group would casually call you best friends and the more time passed the more that statement became true.

All occurrences in the past have led you to playing truth or dare on a Thursday night on the floor of your dorm room with each other. And usually that wouldn’t be an issue. Heeseung and you have progressed to a stage in your friendship where you knew almost everything about each other; almost.

You could feel the alcohol running in your system and were sincerely hoping you wouldn’t say something that you’d eventually regret. You just crossed your fingers and hoped for the best.

For the most part the game did run smoothly, it was fun and you had a good time, the only dare you had to do was show them your most embarrassing dance move.

That is until your roommate asked you truth or dare.

“Truth” you chose this time

“What was your first kiss like and who was it with?”

The question in and of itself was harmless, it matched the vibe of the very easy going game they had going on, Nonetheless, you felt put on the spot and before you could stop yourself – because you can’t pull off a lie for the life of you – you blurt out that you’ve never been kissed.

None of your friends seemed super unfazed by this seeing how you’ve not dated one person since you started college but Sofia’s eyes grew double in size.

“Not even a peck on the lips or something?” she questioned a bit bewildered.

You just shook your head, seeing from the corner of your eye how your roommate gave Sofia a light nudge at even asking such a question.

You couldn’t help but risk a short glance at Heeseung and were almost a bit startled when his eyes met yours instantly. He sent you a soft smile upon locking eyes with you. Was that pity you saw in his eyes? Your stomach turned itself upside down.

You really wish you could say it didn’t bother you at all, that at the age of 21 you’ve never kissed someone before. You didn’t want it to be a big deal, it really shouldn’t be a big deal.

But you couldn’t help but think that you lacked something or were one step behind everyone. It felt like missing out on an experience that usually people have in their late teens and early twenties.

You don’t know why it hasn’t happened for you yet. It’s not even that you want it to be with someone really special, the moment has simply never presented itself before and you usually take this for what it is, but right now – Heeseung’s expression burned into your skull – you suddenly feel a bit small.

“It’s not just that” you eventually start to break the silence, not yet realizing that you were about to make this so much worse, “it’s also the fact that even if I’d want to kiss someone, I wouldn’t know how.”

It took your drunken mind a hot minute to catch up with what you just said. Something within you simply wanted to fill the silence but the fact that your filter was basically non-existent due to your tipsy state was not taken into consideration the moment you opened your mouth.

You mentally slapped yourself across the face, this time not having the courage to even glance into Heeseung’s direction.

“It’s not that hard, I can show you!” Your roommate offered enthusiastically, intentions pure.

Your face flushed at the suggestion and you cringed a bit, more out of embarrassment that you ended up in this situation in the first place than by the proposal itself.

“I’ll let you know if I ever want to take you up on that suggestion.” You reply as nonchalantly as you can muster.

It’s not like the thought of asking a friend how to properly kiss has occurred to you before, but you could never quite bring yourself to get the request past your lips.

Your friends laugh at your response and easily move on with the conversation, taking the attention off of you. And that was that. Or at least that’s what you thought…

Two weeks later you enter the lecture hall and already spot Heeseung sitting in his usual spot and just like on autopilot you placed yourself next to him and the both of you exchanged greetings, just like you usually would. You’d also catch up about your weekends and shortly after the lecture started, taking up both of your attention.

It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that Heeseung poked your shoulder, extending his notebook to you, clearly wanting to show you something.

With blue ink he has written on the page:

“You want me to teach you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused at what he meant.

You write down below him:

“Teach me what?” Confusion clear on your face as you watch him write something else.

“How to kiss”

You choked on your own spit.

Heeseung chuckled next to you. You could smack him across the head right now and you made a mental note to do just that once class is over.

Once you collected yourself, you took the pen from Heeseung and wrote three question marks under his proposal.

Why would he offer to teach you in the first place and out of all the places to suggest this to you he chose the middle of your lecture? Why?

He grinned at your question marks and if you didn’t know him any better you thought he was making fun of you. Had any other person done this to you, you’d probably actually have been hurt but first of all you still didn’t know if he was serious and second of all it was Heeseung. You knew him well enough to know he’d never use such a situation to make fun of you.

At that moment the professor seemed to notice your lack of attention and decided to ask you a question directly, returning your attention to the lecture where it stayed until you were dismissed.

The topic didn’t arise again between Heeseung and you even though the whole scenario didn’t seem to be able to leave your mind. At lunch you stared at Heesung making conversation with Jake over something you did not pay attention to, trying to figure him out.

In your head the puzzle pieces were just not fitting. Why would he suggest that all of a sudden? And why was it so hard for you to find an answer to his question…

After the whole frat party thing where you originally became friends, you had developed a small crush on Heeseung that gradually developed as time went by. It’s just after some time had passed and neither of you made any advances towards the other you eventually abandoned the idea of getting with Heeseung and were left with two options, getting over your crush or having to live with your unrequited feelings.

You chose the first option. It took you quite some time but you managed to accept the fact that Heeseung was simply a really good friend and your feelings faded as seasons changed.

You’d be lying saying they ever went away completely. There’s no reason denying that Heeseung was painfully your type and that no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like him like that anymore, you were attracted to him.

So, saying his suggestion to teach you how to kiss took you by surprise was the understatement of the century.

He probably just tried to be a good friend, right? Your roommate had suggested to teach you as well back then and there were no other intentions behind that, you were certain of that. So, why are you questioning Heeseung so much?

The topic didn’t come up again until one day you were hanging out in your dorm room. Just your roommate, Heeseung and yourself. It was often like that, sometimes Jake was also around but today it was just the three of you, that is at least until your roommate told you that they were heading out for dinner at around six and didn’t know when they’d be back.

Once they left, it was just Heeseung and you left.

Ever since he made his suggestion in class, you dreaded being alone with him, because you didn’t know if the topic would come up again or if you even wanted it to.

Heeseung was lying on your bed, his feet resting on your lap, while you were sitting at the end of the bed, back resting against the wall. Heeseung was scrolling through his phone when you decided to address the elephant in the room, because you figured if he wasn’t the one to bring it up, why shouldn’t you?

“Were you serious?” you simply said, not in any particular tone, just wanting to clear the haze in your head.

“Do you mean about the kissing thing?” He said without looking away from his face. The fact that he instantly knew what you were talking about indicated enough that he was aware it’s been eating at you.

You nod.

He locked his phone and threw it to the side, moving to sit up and also lean his back against the wall so that he can face you.

“I was and I still am.” He said, no trace of irony to be found.

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It seemed like it bothered you that day. You know, when you told everyone how you’re scared you’d mess up if it comes down to the real thing?”

He teased at you being so open due to liquid courage, a small smile forming on his face as you rolled your eyes at him.

“I was put on the spot and that was the only thing my brain provided at the moment to fill the silence.” You whine more frustrated with yourself than anyone else.

“So, you’re not worried about that?” He asked in return.

It was silent for a moment as you contemplated his question. You could easily dig yourself a way out of this by denying it, convincing him it was mainly the liquor talking. But you and Heeseung were never really the type to lie to each other.

“I am” you eventually admit, not meeting his eyes “I don’t know… It’s a bit silly but like I don’t know anyone my age who hasn’t been kissed before and I feel like it’s gonna be really awkward if the situation arises and I chicken out because I have no idea how to actually kiss someone.”

Heeseung listened to you and took your words in before answering.

“But you know, most first kisses are kinda awkward, I think.”

“Was your first kiss weird at all?” You asked him.

“Yeah, very.” He chuckled, sitting up more on the bed, “it was kinda too much of everything, too much teeth, too much spit, just entirely too much.”

He shuddered a bit, recollecting his first kiss.

“See? And I’d have no idea about any of that.” You said almost a bit frustrated.

“Then let me show you.” He insisted, your eyes meeting.

The way he says it so casually makes you want to rip your hair out.

“It’s just a kiss, right? And it’s me! You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.” He said, eyebrows slightly raised, trying to ease your mind.

You look at him. He looks cozy in his oversized sweatshirt, his body language his usual relaxed self. It was still a bit fascinating how he could take this all so lightly but then again, it really was just a kiss for him.

And you know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t kiss Heeseung. In fact, your head is screaming at you not to kiss him, because the risk of buried feelings resurfacing is simply too big. But you’d also be lying to yourself if you’d say you weren’t curious what his lips would feel like against yours and it were thoughts like this that’d mean certain doom for you sooner or later.

At your silence Heeseung added “Look, there’s really no pressure at all. I just thought maybe you’d like to know a few things that will help ease your mind, but of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

And of course he would say that. Of course he’d go out of his way to reassure you that you’re safe with him and that he respected your choice no matter what. Maybe sharing your first kiss with Heeseung wasn’t that bad of an idea after all. At least like that you could make sure it’s someone who respects you and your boundaries, someone who makes sure you feel safe and comfortable no matter what.

Maybe you could allow yourself this. Maybe having this as the memory of your first kiss wasn’t too bad.

“Like, right now?” You asked, which seemed to surprise Heeseung a little. He must have been convinced you’d turn him down.

“I mean, whenever is fine.” He responded suddenly you could see his cool demeanor crack, spotting a few hints of nervousness behind the cracks.

“I think, I’d be down.” You eventually say after contemplating for another minute.

“Really?” Heeseung’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

“Lee Heeseung, if you tell me right now that all of this has been a sick joke of yours after all, I’m ending this friendship right now.”

Panic flashed in his eyes.

“No! No, of course not. I was being serious. I just didn’t think…. I didn’t think you’d agree.” he admitted.

“So, how does this work?” you ask, not knowing where to even start.

“Oh, so you really want to do it right now, I see.” Heeseung mumbled more to himself than anyone in particular.

He scooted slightly closer to you.

“Well, first we gotta get closer.” He moves to sit next to you on the bed, shoulders touching.

You watch him, fascinated at how quickly his shyness has been replaced by his cool, nonchalant demeanours once again.

Heeseung and you have cuddled on more than one occasion before, but this feels different, you’re hyper aware of the place where his shoulder is bumping into yours and your tights are touching. This close, you could smell his cologne and shampoo.

“It’s not that complicated really” he starts explaining.

“If you want to just have a small, simple kiss. We’d both tilt our heads slightly as we get closer. Let me show you.”

He turns towards you, his eyes meeting yours. And you could swear there it was again. That shimmer from the first night the both of you actually talked to each other. You push that thought to the back of your head, the indications behind that too overwhelming for what’s about to happen right now.

His hand hovers above your cheek and you nod, allowing him to gently grab you by the jaw and tilt your head into one direction. The distance between his and your face shrinks as he does so, the pace of your heartbeat picking up in the process.

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke again.

“This is usually the point most people close their eyes and then you just… kiss.”

You close your eyes and a moment later you felt the sensation of Heeseung’s lips softly pressing against yours. All thoughts seem to leave your head the instant your lips touched, your heart basically beating out of your chest. It took you a moment to actually process the sensation and just as you were about to lose yourself in the feeling, Heeseung pulled back slightly.

“You know, this is the part where you kiss me back.” He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and maybe it was all in your head but you could swear his voice sounded different then just a second ago; a bit deeper, maybe even a bit flustered.

“My bad” you said, making Heeseung throw his head back with laughter, making you giggle as well.

It eases your anxiety a bit that even in stations like this, you were able to just laugh with him and easing the tension so easily.

“No worries” he laughed “Wanna try again?”

Again?

What did he mean again? Wasn’t that it?

Despite yourself, you nod.

“Okay, this time make sure to reciprocate the pressure I put against your lips, got it?”

“Got it” you kept your replies fairly short, afraid your voice would fail you otherwise.

Before you knew it, Heeseung was leaning in again.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You close your eyes and soon after you feel the now familiar pressure of his lips again, this time making sure to kiss him back. Without thinking about it, your hand found its way onto Heeseung’s neck, where your fingers absentmindedly played with hair as you were kissing him.

This kiss lasted longer than the first one, you could feel Heeseung moving against you and followed his lead. It was easier to flow into the rhythm than you’d have thought, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

You were starting to feel lightheaded as he pulled away again and you had to resist the urge to chase after his lips.

“That was pretty good” he said, slightly out of breath, his pupils slightly dilated, his gaze fixed on your lips before he looked up at you.

“Also the thing you did with your hand, it seems like you’re a natural.” He chucked.

That’s when you saw your hand still resting against his neck, you instantly pulled it away once your brain caught up to what he was saying.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize…”

For a second there was a silence between the both of you; a silence that wasn’t quiet at all. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and neither could he. You could probably cut the tension with a knife.

“And what if… what if I’d want it to get more intense, you know?”

Heeseung’s eyebrows shot up.

“More intense?” He said, knowing very well what you were implying.

“I get how just kissing someone on the lips like that might not be that hard but what if– what if it goes further?”

Heeseung cleared his throat at your words and sat up straighter.

“You mean, if you would want to deepen the kiss?” He inquired.

You just nod, looking up at him, not failing to notice the light blush that’s starting to form on his cheeks, matching your own flusteredness.

“You want me to show you as well?”

You nod. Something about how his lips feel against yours was addictive, making you throw all your previous reservations out of the window.

“It’s kinda hard to explain though. I’d just have to show you?” He said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay.”

“Okay so, basically you start with a kiss just like we shared before. You’ll just have to let me lead, okay?”

Something about the way he said that sent a shiver down your spine, words refusing to leave your mouth so you just nod.

Soon enough, his lips were on yours again and even though you were only separated for a few minutes, you already started to miss the sensation and the tingle it made you feel in your stomach and chest. Naturally, your hand found its way back into his hair.

Suddenly, you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip and your heart took a leap. Instinctively, you opened your mouth for him. A few moments pass and he starts licking gently into your mouth.

You actively have to suppress sounds that were starting to build in the back of your throat at the sensation.

You could also feel one of his hands pressing against your waist while the other one was busy cupping your cheek.

Without much thinking you pressed forward, wanting to match his eagerness, which led to your teeth clinking against each other to which Heeseung pulled back slightly, chuckling.

“Take it slow, yeah?” He said, his face still incredibly close to yours.

As you nod at his remark he dives back in, taking you by surprise a bit. You were welcoming the touch of lips nonetheless.

This time you tried to dial down your eagerness and gently let his tongue guide yours, your insides turning into mush in the process.

Without thinking you slightly pulled at his hair, making him hum against your lips. 

He must like that? you think to yourself. 

Your stomach did a 360 at the thought of stirring him on further.

At this point your tongues were dancing with each other gently, no trance of any kind of hesitation left, the feeling leaving your head dizzy and your heart fluttering.

The way Heeseung kept pulling you in by your jaw and how his grip on your hip was getting tighter.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.” He suddenly blurts out in between kisses and if you wouldn’t be so lost in the feeling of his lips on yours you’d stop to question his statement, but right now your heart simply leaped in your chest.

Overcome by a sudden wave of braveness, you swung one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. Heeseung looked at you starstruck, his hands instantly finding their way to your hips caressing them.

You took the time to look at him for a moment, his pupils were practically blown out and he looked so pretty with kiss swollen lips, glistering with both of your spit.

This was the first time you initiated the kiss, he easily reciprocated.

The kisses were sometimes still a bit sloppy but neither you nor Heeseung seemed to care, too lost in the feeling of each other’s bodies pressed against each other.

His hands were traveling up your sides and down your tights again and you were drowning in this feeling, of his hands touching you; exploring you. Soon enough, him trying to teach you how to kiss turned into a full on make out session.

That was until your roommate burst into the room without any announcement, making you jump off of Heeseung in an instant, cursing your body for immediately missing his closeness.

You both looked guilty and flustered as your roommate looked the both of you up and down.

“My bad, I’m just here to grab my charger. Continue with what you’ve been doing. It was only a matter of time until this happened anyway.”

They said and were gone as quickly as they had arrived.

You and Heeseung looked at each other for a second. Both of you burst into laughter shortly after.

“I think at some point we should really have a conversation about what exactly this is between us.” He gestured between the both of you after recovering from the sudden interruption.

And you were glad he brought it up because you think your heart would have been shattered into a hundred pieces if this didn’t have the same effect on him as it had on you; making your stomach flutter, turning your insides into mush, craving more.

“Better sooner than later, right?” you smile at him, hope filling your heart.

feel free to let me know your thoughts <3

[viennakarma]

Happiness is a butterfly

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: He wants you but he can't have you. But when a fatal crash happens, he realizes maybe he should just take the jump, before it's too late.

Word count: 6.4k

Tags: Female reader, teammate reader, smut, oral, angst, crash, very remorseful nano, cursing, mostly fernando pov, fernando is in denial, age gap (not defined), hurt/comfort, brief mention of Jules Bianchi, happy ending, not beta read

Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Notes: LISTEN I wish I could control my creative brain but I can’t. *taps mic* Ok, so, who's ready for our little monthly crying session? This actually came to me in a dream after I listened to Happiness is a butterfly, and I ended up incorporating some of the lyrics in the story. I was only contemplating writing this when Anon sent this request asking for angst after a big fight, and I thought it goes perfectly with what I had in mind.

Hope it's to your liking, Anon!

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“Fernando,” You whispered like it wasn’t wrong, like his name was a prayer.

Fernando knew it was wrong, not only because you were a driver and his teammate, but also because you were way too young for him. But whenever you two were like that, you in his arms, it felt so right, so perfect.

Sometimes he wondered to himself if he took advantage of you. Because ever since you first met, you looked at him with big shiny eyes, like you were facing a hero. He knew you were a fan of his, but then again, most of the younger drivers were. But when you two became teammates and got closer, he’d notice how your eyes would find his first thing after entering any room. Whenever you two had chats alone, you’d smile at him in a specific way you didn’t smile at anyone else, blush creeping up your face.

It was so easy to be enchanted by you, by your kindness and willingness. Fernando was drawn to you like a moth to flame, only you didn’t burn him. You were kind to everyone and very talkative, and for a while, Fernando wondered how you managed to get into Formula 1 and keep your spirit intact. Everyone called you a social butterfly. Then he started calling you Mariposa, as a sweet nickname, and he explained to you it meant “Butterfly”.

You two were always together, being teammates, so it didn’t take long for the dynamic shift. Soon, there were longing looks and lingering touches. The way Fernando would always touch the small of your back for a little too long when talking to you, or the way you lean too close whenever talking to him, or the way his eyes stare at your lips every opportunity. Or when you finished a good race and the first thing you’d do was jump on his arms. How you’d always knock three times on his helmet right before going off to the race, he started reciprocating the gesture, since he knew it was probably your thing for good luck or something.

Things went like that for too long, and neither of you were brave enough to take the jump, as you called it.

That until fate put you face to face during summer break. You were in Mallorca with a bunch of your friends for a girls trip in a resort by the sea. You were having brunch when you spotted Fernando at the same time he spotted you, his eyebrows raising in surprise, he muttered something to the people with him that looked like his family members, before coming to you.

“Mariposa!” He hugged you softly.

“Hi! Good to see you!” You chirped, nervously.

Fernando blatantly checked you out. You were wearing simple bikinis and a light beach robe. You were tanned, hair wild and cheeks red like you had come straight out of one of his wet dreams.

“Enjoying summer break?” He asked.

“Yeah, with my friends,” You pointed to where they waited for you at the table, “will you be here for long?”

“No, my family is going back today and I’m leaving tomorrow. We’ve been here for a few days already.”

You waved him goodbye after a quick chat. That night, the weather, the breeze and the empty villa tempted him into calling you. He didn’t want to be that guy so he resisted the urge, instead going for a walk by the beach, alone. As fate would have it, he found you at a small beach party with your friends, dancing and drinking.

Like a magnet, your eyes found his, and you said something to your friends before walking up to him.

“You came to the party?” You asked.

“No, I was just taking a walk and passed by,” He shrugged, and started walking away “I’ll let you go back to your friends.”

“No! No- I mean- Can I walk with you?” You asked and he just nodded.

You two walked away by the shore, the small waves crashing over your feet, and you two chatting about the island and all the adventures you got to go.

“So you went diving, surfing? Everything?”

“I have always been kind of a scaredy-cat, especially as a kid. My dad used to tell me ‘you just have to breathe ten seconds of courage and take the jump’. Funnily, racing was the only thing I wasn’t afraid of. I’m in control, me and the car are one.”

He listened to you for a long while, his eyes focused on the way the wind picked up your hair, your dress flowy in the wind and your bikini top peeking from under the neckline. You were looking delicious, he had to admit. You always were, but now, after spending the whole day under the sun, your skin was golden and glowy, and he imagined himself biting into your shoulder and kissing up your neck.

When you two finally stopped by the villa, Fernando looked at you attentively.

“Won’t your boyfriend be worried about you?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you shook your head knowing that he was just trying to find out if you had someone.

“You don’t? Well you’re pretty and nice, I thought you’d have one by now.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, blushing which made him chuckle.

“You know you are stunning.”

“Well, I know I’m pretty, I just didn’t know if I am pretty enough for you.”

“Mariposa,” his voice had a tone of reprimand, but his eyes falling down your cleavage and body, betrayed him.

“Just one kiss?” You asked, pouting, “and we don’t even have to talk about it after.”

“I can’t.”

“But you want to?” You asked, full of hope.

“We should not,” he whispered as you closed the distance to his face, your face barely centimeters from his, lips dangerously close.

“We could just,” you tried to come up with an argument, but your lips brushed his beard and you lost all train of thought.

“If we start, I will not be able to stop,” he mumbled, trying so hard to refrain himself.

“Then don’t.”

That’s all it took for him to press his fingers to your nape, pulling you in and smashing his lips to yours. And it felt divine, like nothing he had ever done before, you were sweet and the harder he kissed you, the more pliant you got in his arms, sighing and moaning softly as his hand found home over your ass, pressing firmly until your whole body was flush to his.

“Fernando,” you whispered, his lips going down your neck, his beard making goosebumps raise on your skin.

Then you walked inside without really breaking apart. Fernando pulled your dress from your body, staring at you in your bikini.

“This is tiny,” he said, hooking a finger by the string on the sides of the bottom.

You smiled some way you hoped was seductive, taking a step back so he could see you fully as you pulled the strings, letting your bikini top fall to the floor, followed by the bottom soon after.

Soon he had you bent over the back of the sofa, holding onto the seat for dear life as he knelt behind you and ate you out, fingering you ass all the way to a mind blowing orgasm. Then he fucked you senseless, whispering dirty nothings into your ear, switching English and Spanish back and forth. He slapped your ass until it was stinging, whispering about your “tempting tiny bikini”. He had you groaning, drooling against the sofa until your toes curled and you came around his cock.

“Nano… Fuck-” you moaned feeling him cumming too.

He cuddled you, both of you falling on the sofa, spent.

“Why were we holding back? We should’ve done this a long time ago.” You said, lips brushing his beard.

He didn’t answer because he knew why he had been holding back. You were young, sometimes naive, and his teammate. It was double the trouble. But he didn’t allow himself to wallow in those feelings, rather focusing on the feel of you naked in his arms.

“You know what we should do? Stay here a bit longer,” you rose from his chest, eyes glinting mischievously, “we should extend our stay here.”

“Just you and me?”

“Just us,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his chest.

And so you stayed with him. You sent your friends to Ibiza as a gift and Fernando extended his rent on the villa. You’d spend the day lazing around, cooking together and going to the beach or the pool. You played tennis and trained together in the small gym. You made love on every possible surface of that whole villa, which left you spent and satisfied every single day.

And you talked. Fernando considered you to be one of the closests people to him on the grid, but still, he learned so much more about you, about your mental strength to rise and thrive in motorsport. And you were clever and witty, joking around him, talking about life and all your dreams. And he could hear you for hours on end, never getting tired of you.

Unfortunately, your little time of uninterrupted happiness had to end. With a heavy heart, you kissed him goodbye, both of you aware that things would never go back to the way they were before summer break. But you two were also too scared to name anything, or to ruin whatever this dynamic was.

But you left Mallorca admitting to yourself that you had fallen in love even deeper.

You tried to keep texting and calling him, but you usually were in very different time zones so the texts were few and far between. Fernando even sent you a sweet text on your birthday a few of days later.

There was a gala by the end of summer break almost three weeks later, hosted by the FIA, it was mostly for mingling, and most drivers usually went, especially those trying to keep an image to the big shots.

Fernando went there because he rarely missed it. And maybe because he knew you would be there too, and maybe he could leave with you.

You arrived a little late, stunning in a green gown, with a tight corset and a big slit showing your leg. Fernando watched as you made rounds, greeting people and old men, other drivers that were your friends and their wives or girlfriends. You eventually made your way to Fernando, and he proudly waited for you when you walked up to him, the most beautiful smile adorning your lips and eyes shining just as much as the diamonds on your earrings.

“You’re beautiful, mariposa.” Fernando whispered.

“Thank you, you look handsome too. Love me a man in a tuxedo.” You whispered back conspiratorially, winking at him.

You two chatted for a little, watching the people around. You told him everything you did during summer break after you two parted ways in Mallorca. When the slow music started, you watched the couples getting to the dancefloor.

“Nano, can we dance?” You asked. He just stiffened, face unsure.

“Hm, I’m not sure.”

“Nobody will mind, we’re teammates,” you shrugged.

“I don’t think it's a good idea,” He looked at your face, still staring longingly at the couples slow dancing on the dancefloor. Yearning for something he couldn’t give you.

“Mhm…” You hummed, disappointed. You stood there silent for a couple more minutes, watching the dancefloor. Fernando imagined dancing with you, having you in his arms, listening to your voice, your hand on his shoulder. You cleared your throat for a second, “I’m gonna get a drink.”

You didn’t wait for his response, leaving with long strides to the bar, the opposite side. Fernando’s eyes never left you, he watched as you got a drink and sipped a little, sitting on a bar stool. Some people stopped to greet you quickly. At some point, Charles Leclerc stopped you, whispering something that made you giggle a little, then he offered you a hand, probably inviting you to dance, but you refused politely. You grabbed a second drink and turned on the stool, nursing your drink and still watching the party go on.

You wanted to dance with him, not anyone else.

Eventually, the party died down, and Fernando got close to you again, whispering in your ear to meet him in the most discreet parking lot and then he left. You watched his back as he made his way out. Downing whatever was left of your drink, you stood up, making a quick route to say goodbye to everyone.

Finally, you met Fernando in the car. He had driven himself in his expensive car.

As he drove away in the middle of the night, he put his hand on your thigh under the slit of the dress. You honestly wanted to jump him, to make him stop the car anywhere and just get into it.

Quietly making into his hotel room, you kicked your high heels off and kissed him, not giving him any second before deepening the kiss, pressing your body to his.

“Wait,” he managed to croak out. You took a step back. He went into his luggage and picked a small box, handing it to you, “I know your birthday was two weeks ago, but since I didn’t see you- well, happy birthday.”

“You didn’t have to…” you whispered, opening the box to a beautiful and delicate necklace with a gold butterfly pendant with small diamonds all around the wings, “it’s so beautiful, Fernando.”

“Not as much as you, Mariposa.” He whispered back, taking the necklace, placing you in front of the full body mirror and standing behind you and locking the necklace around your neck.

“Thank you”

He kissed your neck, running a hand down your arm, then kissing your shoulders while pulling the hair pins out of your hair, letting your hair free. He kept leaving hot wet kisses on your skin, calling you “hermosa” and “my mariposa” all while unzipping your dress slowly. You let him do whatever, his hands pushing the corset out until the fabric pooled around your ankles kicking it away too, and you stood in nothing but panties and the necklace.

You gasped, staring at your reflection on the mirror and him behind you, his rough fingertips running over your side, getting to your front and cupping your boobs. You felt soft as his fingers pinched your nipples, making you moan softly.

“You ready to take me?” He asked against your ears.

“Please, Nano,” you moaned his name the way you only said it when you were alone and getting intimate.

“Foot there,” he pointed to a chair. You did as he said, one leg up so he could have better access to your panties.

He pressed his chest to your back, fingers sliding inside your panties to feel your obscene wetness dampening the fabric. His fingers slid right over your clit, spreading your juices all around, before diving into your cunt. You moaned, head lolling back against his shoulder, as he pleasured you nonstop. You had been turned on even since the gala, and the ride to the hotel had been pure torture not being touched. So it didn’t take much for him to build you up, his thumb brushing your clit. Your moaning got louder and with the way he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers, he knew you were close.

And so he stopped, making you whine. He just chuckled.

“Nano! I was so close!” You pouted.

“Needy girl, get on the bed,” he pointed again, like an order, “you’re cumming around my cock first.”

You sat on the bed slowly, still reeling from almost orgasming. You watched as Fernando started undressing in front of you, so you just ran both hands from his chest down to his thighs, fingers barely touching the straining erection in his pants.

“Don’t get greedy now. Wait.”

With his words, you stopped touching him, leaning back so you could watch him undress. When he finally got rid of all clothing, he leaned, kissing your stomach and up your boobs, mouthing your nipples as his hands pulled your panties, letting you lay down on the edge of the bed. You held his head against your nipples, his eyes finding yours through his eyelashes. 

When you were both fully naked, he just held your legs open and sank into your cunt, making you moan loud as you back rose up from the bed.

“Nano- oh, fuck!” You moaned, and pulled by his neck to kiss you.

He kissed you back slowly, patiently contrasting your desperate hands on his shoulder, crawling up his neck, fingertips sinking into his soft hair, as he fucked you slowly, pressing you deliciously into the bed, one hand firmly on the bedrest and the other holding your neck, pressing until you were cumming, his lips sucking hickeys into your skin.

You two were cuddling quietly when you decided to say what you’ve been thinking about ever since Mallorca.

“We should go on a date, Fernando. Take the next step, I really like what we have.”

You could feel him stiffening against you, and you closed your eyes, afraid of what his response would be.

“We can’t, mariposa. You are way younger than me,” He said somberly, “and we’re teammates. This would be too messy for the both of us, but especially for you, who is just starting your career.”

“I don’t mind if that’s the price I need to pay to have you.”

“We can’t take this kind of risk for something we don’t even know it’s real.”

That squeezed your heart and made you angry with his denial.

“Fernando, this is real- You know that!”

“Calling a cab to take you to your hotel,” he said standing up and picking his phone. His tone was cold, detached from you, like you were just some toy for him to have fun with, and now you served your purpose.

“Don’t be like that, Fernando. This is more than just sex,” you got up, covering yourself with the bedsheet because it felt too vulnerable having this conversation naked.

“We can’t be anymore than that. You’re too young to understand.” He said not looking at you.

There was a lump on your throat rapidly forming. He knew you hated when people treated you like you were dumb because you were young.

“Please let us just talk about it-”

“There’s nothing to talk about. This means nothing! Nada!” He exclaimed.

“You don’t mean that. Don’t be a jerk.” Your voice was already wavering.

You stared at his back as he turned around, going to the opposite side of the room, your tears started falling down.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He finally said but still didn’t look at you.

“I’m already hurt,” you said, picking up your panties from the floor hastily putting them on, realizing how Fernando had helped you with your dress, so you just picked up one of his sweaters and dressed, “do you want me or do you not?”

“I don’t want you.”

“You’re missing good things in life because of fear. Just take the fucking jump, Fernando.”

The next thing he heard was the slamming door behind you.

When he walked back, he noticed you had left the butterfly necklace on the table. Holding the necklace against the palm of his hand, he wondered if he did the right thing or just lost the best thing in his life.

You didn’t text or called him. And he didn’t either. Eventually he texted you, to tell you had “forgot” the necklace, to test the waters.

“You’re the only one who calls me mariposa. This necklace has no meaning to me if you’re not in my life.”

His mind would often wander back to Mallorca, to those few days you and him lived in paradise. Sleeping late, waking up even later, then making love lazily under the sun, sunbathing naked by the pool, and cooking together, training together. There was never silence with you, since you were always talking or singing or playing loud music.

And he missed it. As the weeks progressed and the more race weeks came, you didn’t try to talk to him about the two of you. You were still polite and talkative, usually filling his silence with stories, talks about the track and strategies. You still knocked on his helmet three times before every race, probably a pre race ritual by now.

He missed you. He missed not only the feel of your cunt around his cock, but he missed your loudness, and your laugh. He missed the light in your eyes that was slowly darkening each passing day. Like you were losing hope he would come around and change his mind.

The last race of the season, he was a little late from a meeting, so you were already getting in the car when he came out. Your visor was up, so you just looked at him, and knocked your own helmet three times as a sign to him, who did the same gesture back to you.

By around ⅔ of the race, there was an accident and the red flag was called.

It took maybe two or three minutes until all cars stopped on the pitlane, lined up under the red flag. As Fernando climbed out of the car, he turned around, looking for you, removing his helmet, guard and balaclava, he went inside the garage.

“Where’s Mariposa?” He asked, to one in particular. But then his eyes landed in Martha, your PT, and her eyes were watery as she pointed to the screen.

A sinking feeling expanded in his stomach as he saw your car, that now looked like an unrecognizable wreckage. He dropped his helmet, covering his mouth with a hand. The marshals were all around your burning car, various people with fire extinguishers, trying to lower the fire enough to pull you out.

“Has she responded yet? Did she say anything?” Fernando asked without removing his eyes from the screen.

“No,” Somebody said, somberly.

“She’ll be fine,” Fernando assured, probably trying to convince himself, and his rapid heartbeat. He had seen and had been in many ugly crashes, and in the end, the driver had come out unscathed. He was sure you could manage, you were very strong and stubborn.

When the fire died down enough, a couple of marshals pulled you out, and Fernando’s heart felt like it was stopping as they pulled you out unconscious. The marshals made a small shield around you and carried you to the ambulance.

Looking around, Fernando finally noticed how everyone was horrified by the crash, and all the drivers around seemed pale and worried. It took a couple of minutes for the FIA to decide to keep the race going, setting it to restart 15 minutes later.

“Fernando,” someone called, and he turned to be faced with George and Alex, who were your closest friends on the grid, “any news on her?”

“Not yet,” he paused, trying really hard to not freak out, “Mike went to the hospital with her.”

“That was ugly,” Alex muttered gloomily.

The tree of them stayed silent, eyes on the screen where a replay of your crash. It was probably a mechanical issue, since you were in high speed when the tyres locked, and you visibly couldn’t brake, going straight into the barriers, full force.

“Will-” George started but his voice failed a little and he cleared his throat, “will she be ok?”

“Yes. She’ll be ok.” Fernando said, not only to calm down the two young drivers, but also to convince himself, since no other option was acceptable in his mind.

You had to be fine.

“Fuck it,” Fernando went inside his room, changing quickly into more casual clothes, as he came out, the team was confused, “I’m sorry, but I have to check on her. Martha, come with me.”

He left knowing he would face terrible consequences with the FIA, not only for not going back to the race, but also because he avoided the press to go to the hospital you were taken to.

On the car, on the way to the hospital they had taken you to, his phone rang, and it was Mike, who had been the first one to go with you to the hospital. Fernando supposed Mike would want to tear him a new one for abandoning the race.

But no. Mike wanted to update him, telling you had a concussion that had knocked you out on the spot, inside the car. They were going to check if you had any more injuries with scans and tests.

By the time he got to the hospital, he met with Mike, and with Vince, your friend and manager, they said you were still unconscious and going through all the examinations necessary. The doctors wanted to see if you didn’t have any internal bleeding or fractures. They kept you unconscious during urgent care, hoping you would wake up after the tests and after the meds wear off.

Fernando sat in the waiting room unmoved, his fear eating him inside every minute you had not woken up yet. Martha was tearful the whole time, while Vince was making calls right and left, he got in touch with your family and closest friends. Alberto showed up around an hour after to pick Fernando up to go back to the hotel.

“I am not leaving,” Fernando said.

“Fernando, there’s nothing you can do. Vince said she will probably wake up late morning tomorrow, we can just-”

“I will not leave.”

Fernando’s words left no space for debate. He didn’t have any commitments for the next week. So he stayed after everyone left, waiting for news on his mariposa. He could barely drink the coffee because his stomach was churning with the lack of news. In the middle of the night, finally they finished the tests and they put you in a room.

After bribing his way inside, Fernando was able to get into your room and see you. You were sleeping, looking peaceful in that hospital bed, using an oxygen inhaler.

“Why does she need oxygen?” He asked the nurse checking on you.

“Here it says she inhaled some smoke before the fire was put off,” the woman explained, reading your chart.

“She will be alright, isn’t she?” He asked, his tone audibly worried. The nurse sighed, as if she didn’t want to say her next words.

“We can’t tell just yet. For now the scans and tests show she is fine, but we can only tell for sure after she wakes up.”

She left Fernando behind with dread consuming his every thought.

As he stared at your unconscious body on the bed, he couldn’t help but remember when you slept with him in Mallorca. Your naked body tangled with the blankets, hair splayed on the pillows and tanned limbs looking for him even in sleep, hugging him and keeping him in bed with you longer than he usually did. He sat by the bed, hand holding yours, running his thumb over your cold knuckles.

The remorse was eating him alive. You had to be alright. You had to wake up soon and laugh at his worried face, joking that you’re tougher than you look. Giving him those eyes. He couldn’t bear not looking at your eyes again, that would break him apart one last time.

Because you could have been his the whole time. He could have slept with you in his arms more often than not. He could have been stealing your kisses in dark corners and going out for dinner after late team meetings. He could’ve received random cute selfies from you throughout his day. He could’ve whispered “I love you” into your skin every night. Only he didn’t.

His last words to you were “I don’t want you” and he couldn’t take it if those were his last words for you ever. He never let himself admit to you that he had fallen. That he was absolutely crazy for you, that he loved you even before you ever kissed him.

He was about to spiral in guilt when your sister arrived in the early morning. She visibly didn’t expect Fernando there, holding her sister’s hand.

“I just talked to the doctor,” Mila, your sister, muttered.

“He said the meds will wear off later today,” Fernando said.

“You can go rest now, come back later.” Mila offered. Didn’t sound like she wanted him specifically out, but more out of worry.

“No, I- I want to stay until she’s awake.”

“Fernando, she wouldn’t want you to wear yourself thin because of her,” The way Mila said the words, it left a little unsaid.

“You know?” Was all he asked. Do you know about us? What do you think? What did she say about me? But Mila just nodded, she didn’t look judgemental.

“I know.”

He was about to leave to at least shower and eat something before coming back. As Mila got closer to your sleeping form, Fernando stood back and your sister touched your hand. Then she knocked three times on the bedside table. Fernando frowned.

“Why did you do that?” He asked Mila.

“When we were kids in karting, Dad used to do that to our helmets before races, each knock means a word. ‘I love you’, and with time it just became a silly habit of hers,” Mila explained.

Fernando’s heart twisted inside, eyes watering.

Knock. I. Knock. Love. Knock. You.

You had been doing the knocks to him for months, even before the summer break.

He left the room without a word, breathing in and out to stop the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He wasn’t an emotional man by any means, but the knowledge that you have been loving him for so long, broke his heart.

After going back to the hotel to shower and eat, he went knocking in Alberto’s room when he noticed he didn’t have his phone anywhere in sight ever since before the race had started. Like predicted, Alberto had his phone.

In his suite, Fernando unlocked his phone to hundreds of notifications, a lot from other drivers, asking for news about you, since not the Formula 1 or the FIA had released any notes about your condition. After shooting a few answers to the other drivers, he finally saw one notification, saying you had left him a voicemail the day before. From the time stamp, it was a bit before the race.

Wide eyed, he pressed play on the voicemail.

“Hey, I’m about to go out in the car, but I guess I just breathed 10 seconds of courage, well not enough to wait to say it to you face to face,” you giggled nervously, “but what I mean to say is, I love you. Probably not what you wanted to hear, but I do love you. And I know you don’t feel the same, but maybe you could… I don’t know, maybe you could take a chance on me. I know your reservations about the world, but… We should take the jump. I can make you really happy if you let me. And maybe one day you will grow to love me- god, that last part was pathetic- Shit- How do I delete this?” There was noise as if you were struggling with the phone and then someone called your name far away, “one second!” you told the person, “shit, I gotta go. Just please, can we talk over the winter break? I guess what I mean is that-” Then the beep ended the message, cutting your voicemail off.

He pressed play a couple more times, until he could breathe again, your voice offering some sense of peace to his mind. You were willing to have him, even after he kicked you out of his hotel room, even after he pretty much ignored your history all these past few months.

It would be alright. You would wake up, he would tell you he loved you and he was so sorry that he had wasted so much time being afraid of what people may think or how the world might treat you.

Only you didn’t.

You didn’t wake up after the meds wore off. And Fernando, your sister, Vince and Martha were all shocked when the doctor said it was possible you were in a coma.

“Everything seems ok, but she’s not waking up. Sometimes the body takes a little more time to recover from traumas like this.”

“When-” Mila’s voice failed, tears streaming down her face, “when do you believe she could wake up?”

“We can’t pinpoint that with precision,” the doctor answered.

“Get all the tests redone,” Fernando said suddenly, “maybe you missed something.”

“But-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

That’s all he said before leaving and entering a toilet by the waiting room. His chest heaving, he watered his shaky hands to try and calm down. You didn’t wake up. They weren’t sure when or if you would wake up. And, fuck, Fernando had seen that before with Jules, who was comatose for months before passing away.

He remembered the blinding pain of losing a friend and he couldn’t bear losing the love of his life too. Fernando stayed in the stall for a while, trying to calm down his terrified thoughts.

When he went back, your sister was still crying, being comforted by Vince.

“Fernando, can you stay here while we call my family?” Mila asked, and Fernando nodded.

As they left, Fernando sat by your side, holding your hand. With his thumb running over the back of your hand, he looked at your face.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, “I need you here. There’s still so much for you here. Please, I just need you to fight a little more, yes? You have always been stubborn.”

He waited for some kind of miracle, for you to wake up, for your eyes to find him like they always did even in a crowded room.

“When you recover, we will go out, on a proper date, and we’ll dance, like you wanted to. We’ll hold hands and I’ll take you to meet my family.” He kissed the back of your hand softly, “Wake up, Mariposa.”

He stayed there the whole day, letting your sister go find a hotel to stay and get some sleep. Then at night, she came back, assuring Fernando that he should go to sleep too, she knew he was more than a day and a half awake. Back at the hotel, he showered the smell of hospital off and made some calls to take care of his businesses. He texted George and Alex to update them. He also talked to his family, giving updates on his teammate, but not prolonging the chat as to not risk breaking down because of the state his mariposa was in the hospital. Then he went to sleep after a quick dinner, exhausted enough to sleep fairly quickly.

He managed to sleep the whole night, going in and off dreams of you, his brain probably too worried to really forget, even unconscious. He woke up at dawn, going back to the hospital so your sister could leave to rest.

Fernando checked on you first thing, and you were still unconscious, but your sister was on the phone talking to your parents, so he just left to give her a little privacy. He went into the cafeteria and drank a small cup of coffee.

As he went back, he noticed how agitated Vince looked on the phone right outside your room.

“Vince, what happened?” He asked, dreading that the worse had happened in the few minutes he was away.

“She woke up!”

Fernando’s eyes welled up with tears as he opened the door.

“-No, no, don’t talk just yet. Let’s wait for the doctor,” you sister said to you, then both of them looked at Fernando, who looked rooted to the spot, “Fernando! She woke up!” Your sister said through happy tears.

Your sister hugged again, kissing your head, whispering how she loved you all while Fernando stood there, trying to will his limbs to move. Then the doctor and a nurse came, asking you all to leave so he could examine you.

He waited outside as your sister went on the phone with the good news to your family again. Then the doctor came out, announcing you were looking good, and apparently no sequelae but they would still keep you for a few more days for close examination and to make sure everything was alright.

Barely registering anything, Fernando just entered your room, and you smiled at him. You smiled. Your eyes shining bright like you had just woken up from a simple nap.

And then he cried. Fully cried for the first time since the accident, like the relief of seeing you alive and well broke the dam of the tears he had been trying to hold back. And he could breathe again. Covering his face with both hands, he tried to get himself in control but he only stopped when he heard you.

“Na-” your voice was hoarse, “-no.”

“No, don’t talk yet. The nurse said your throat might feel a little dry.” He managed to subside his tears enough to talk.

When he sat down on the chair, you lifted your hand to hold his face. You were still a bit weak, but you wiped his face of the tears. He held your hand with both of his, kissing your palm.

“You gave us quite the scare,” Fernando said with a small smile. You smiled back, looking sleepy, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You shook your head minimally but your eyes had that mischievous glint, like you were thinking of a silly joke about how tough you actually are.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for making you think I don’t love you, when I really do. I have for the longest time. We’ll make it work, however you want,” he just dumped the words, not wanting to lose another precious second not being yours, “soy tuyo, Mariposa. Te amo, mi amor.”

You just held his hand, squeezing it slowly three times. I. Love. You.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

im really sorry if this is a stupid thing to ask but im 16 and ive been trying to figure out what kinds of things i like, yknow for reference, and uh ik that people say that all kinks are ok but then they also turn around and say that some arent. and i keep getting turned on by rape scenes in shows and things and then i feel really fucking shitty about it and im not sure how i should. idk deal with that, if theres anything to deal with. basically the whole things confusing as fuck and i dont know what to do and you usually have answers

hi anon,

okay, here's the thing: what you're getting turned on by is people playing pretend. no one is in any danger, no one is actually being raped, depending on when the tv show or movie in question was made there's a very good chance there was an intimacy coordinator on standby to make sure everything was done respectfully and all of the actors felt safe and comfortable.

being turned on by a depiction of something bad happening carries no ethical weight, because being horny and enjoying fiction are morally neutral things. people who like Godzilla probably aren't into it because they actually want to see real people and cities be destroyed by a big lizard, you know? it's fun because it's pretend. it's made up.

would personal examples help? I love reading romance novels. I don't want romance to happen to me, that shit gives me hives. but I love to read about people catching feelings and figuring it out. and, hey, you've seen my URL. I love Batman. that doesn't mean I think actual billionaires should zoom around in tanks doing vigilante justice with children, that's fucking crazy. and you want a sex example? I think it's great when men are beaten, bruised, bloodied, and quivering miserably on the edge of death's door. that's so hot to me, I eat that shit up. does that mean I would want to see that happen in real life? jesus christ, no. if I find an actual man in extreme physical distress on the ground I'm not going to start bating my meat, I'm going to call a fucking ambulance and try to help him as best I can. because the way my brain responds to real people is completely different than the way my brain responds to made up people who aren't actually in any pain or danger.

there's nothing to deal with here, because you haven't done anything wrong.

[minminyoonjii]

Hello :) my birthday is on Friday and I had been looking for Ot8 x Reader birthday fics but people just don't write em and it's so upsetting 😭😭😭

I was wondering if you could do a story where the boys throw the reader a big birthday party but by the end of it, the party is long forgotten and it just turns into one big horny mess- also I wanna say I really like your work and I've sent in a few requests, I wanted to know if I could be 🦝anon if it's not already taken

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

💙Series Masterlist

🕯Summary: Birthdays are always a special day. Some celebrate with a wholesome heart, they celebrate with their wholesome head. Not the brain kind.

💛AN

Sorry for the belated birthday gift 🦝anon. I finished your request before the series and I thought a good ending piece. I hope you love it💛💛

🌹CW

Birthday Sex|Worship Kink|Edging|Masturbation|Frottage|Grinding|Multiple Orgasms|Voyeurism|Degrading Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Rough Sex|Dom! OT8|Photoshoot|Fishnet Ripping|Possessive|Panty Sniffer|Pussy Slapping|Squirting|Pussy Gape|Pervy! Reader|Instructions|Creampie|Hand Job|Messy Blow Job|Face Fucking|Cock Gagging|Puppy Kink|Throat Bulge|Cunnilingus|Overstimulation|Oral Fixation|Fingering|Daddy Kink|Omorashi|Ghost Face! Lee Minho|Edging|Breeding Kink|69|Cum Eating|Free Use|Teasing|Cum Dump|Very Sensitive Pussy|Sub Space|Deep Penetration|Vibrator|Double Penetration|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 4.9K

"You look stunning in that, darling," Jisung whistled, eyeing you up and down. You gulped, averting eye contact, "I don't know, it's a bit too short isn't it?" You mumbled, tugging down the hem of your skirt. Jisung smiled, "Isn't that the point, baby? You wore this for a reason didn't you?" he said, gesturing you over. You sulked, "I just wanted to look cute," you said, wrapping your arms around your waist. Jisung chuckled, "And you are. Come here," he said, pulling you onto his lap. "Such an adorable little girl. Think you're all grown up, huh?" Jisung whispered, patting your hair. 

You frowned, "Shut up," you grumbled, hiding your face in your hands. Jisung chuckled, "Aww, why should I hm? Pretty little birthday girl like you should get pampered and worshipped, hm?" he said, kissing the back of your neck. You rolled your eyes, "Oh and how are you going to do that?" you asked, hiding your smile. "With a bit of help of course," Jisung said, nosing below your jaw. A shiver ran down your spine, "Ji," you sighed, pressing your thighs together. 

He laughed, kissing your cheek, "Don't get too excited, baby. We still need to attend your birthday party," Jisung said, lifting you off his lap. You jutted your bottom lip, "This is cruel," you grumbled, readjusting your clothes. Jisung smirked, "If you think this is cruel. Just imagine what the boys would do seeing you in that," he said, gesturing to your fit. You bit back a smile, "I don't know what you mean," you said, walking ahead of Jisung. He laughed, "Says the princess who was afraid that it was too short," Jisung teased, wrapping and holding your waist.

You smirked, kissing his cheek, "Guess all I needed was a little reassurance," you said, ruffling his hair. "Anything for the birthday girl," he whispered, licking your ear lobe. You pushed open the door to the living room, panic running through your veins the moment you stepped through it. Some had blank stares, some had their jaws dropped, and some were happy to celebrate. Felix ran up to you, "Sunbeam, you look stunning," he said, kissing your nose. 

You giggled, feeling the tension break, "Thanks, Lix," you whispered, squishing his face. He chuckled, "Come on, let Jinnie take your birthday shots," Felix said, dragging you along. You sat on the spinning stool, "Hyune," you said, pulling Hyunjin in for a hug. "Princess," he chuckled, tightening the hug. You pulled back, "Direct me however you want," you said, not knowing where to put your hands. Hyunjin smiled, "Of course, put your elbows on the table and rest your head on your hands," he instructed, positioning the camera.

You nodded, following each command. Hyunjin smirked, "That's it. You're doing so well," he praised, taking a few more shots. Some with you standing and some with you carefully holding the cake. "Bunny, be careful not to drop it!" Changbin warned, worried about how you tilted it for the shot. You nodded, instantly setting the cake down after Hyunjin said you could. Jeongin rearranged the cake back to its spot, "Hyung, it's cake-cutting time," he said, calling all the members to the table as he stood behind you.

"Here," Felix said, handing you a lighter. That's when you realised there weren't any candles. "What?" you whispered, confused for a second before your eyes lit up. "You didn't," you gasped, looking up at the fond looks looking back at you. "Go ahead," Felix said, gesturing to you to burn the 'Happy Birthday' wafer paper. You felt your cheeks ache from how hard you were smiling, "Wah," you said, watching the paper burn for a single pet name to be written underneath. 

"Really?" you asked, shaking your head at the cheesiness. Bright and bold it wrote 'Little one' in black icing. You looked up at Chan and he only raised his hands in surrender. You giggled at the gesture, "You guys are ridiculous," you said, trying to hide your flustered cheeks. "Ridiculously in love with you," Changbin said, blowing you a kiss. You waved him off, only to be met with loud whines, "Say it back, bunny," he sulked. "I love you too," you mumbled, seeing Jeongin place an actual candle on the cake.

Changbin laughed, "See she loves me," he boasted, crossing his arms to flex his biceps. Jeongin cringed, lighting the candle, "Hyunjinnie hyung, don't forget the video," he said. Hyunjin gave him a thumbs up, "On it," he said, clicking the record. Soon the room was filled with random harmonies as they sang Happy Birthday, with random high notes and runs making you giggle. "Make a wish, kitten," Minho said, rubbing your back. You tilt your head up, surprised that he got behind you, "Okay," you whispered, making your wish.

You blew the candle, and the boys cheered, "Baksu!" Changbin exclaimed, clapping his hands. Seungmin whined, "We're going to get a noise complaint, hyung," he teased, covering his ears. You laughed, shakily holding the knife in your hand. Minho swiftly took it from you, "Let's not make this birthday party a trip to the ER, hm?" he said, cutting the cake. Your jaw dropped, wanting to retort but you knew it was best. Chan chuckled, hugging you from behind, "Happy birthday, baby girl," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"Thank you, Channie," you whispered, leaning back into his hold. Chan cooed, having a good look at your outfit from this angle, "Don't you look absolutely delicious, little one?" he asked, seeing your thighs plush out against the stool. You gulped, straightening your posture, "Is it too much?" you mumbled, tilting your neck back to look up at him. Chan shook his head, staring at your bare neck, "No no, it looks perfect for us to play with," he chuckled, stroking your cheek.

A whine escaped your lips, head clouding from his voice. Chan smirked, easily lifting you off the stool, "Spin the wheel, baby girl. You know what to do," he said, handing you the board. Your names were written on it, this decides the order during birthday parties. You took a deep breath and spun the wheel. The boys eyed the spinning names, wondering who it would land on. Chan chuckled, "Lucky me," he said, seeing his name being picked. You gulped, seeing the pure lust pooling in his eyes.

Chan laid you on the couch, "Let's keep the skirt on but the fishnets have to go," he said, ripping the fabric off your legs. You shivered at the sound, breath picking up from the building arousal. He cooed, stroking your bare thighs, "Pretty little girl," he gruffed, digging his finger into your flesh. You whined, arching your back at the sting, "Chan," you pouted, staring at him between your legs. Chan smirked, pressing his tongue against his bottom lip, "What's wrong? Use your words," he teased, tilting his head back.

You bit back a smile, "Want to be filled, please Daddy," you teased back, knowing very well they would give you anything you wanted for your birthday. Chan's eyes widened for a second before he wrapped his hand around your throat, "Oh yeah? The birthday girl wants her cunt to be fucked loose with cum, huh?" he growled, adding pressure to the sides of your neck. You nodded, legs trembling from the pooling desire, "Please," you pleaded, racking your nails over his hand to show your desperation.

Chan clenched his jaw, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, "Don't whine tomorrow, remember that you begged for this, little one," he groaned, tugging down his pants. A mewl slipped past your mouth, you shifted Chan's thumb towards your lips and he instantly knew what you wanted. Chan panted, cock swelling beneath his boxers, "Fuck, you looked so good when you walked in earlier. Had to hold myself back from stripping you down myself, baby girl," he chuckled, lifting your legs on his hips. 

You moaned, clenching around your drenched panties when an audible squelch could be heard. The room went silent, "Fuck," Jisung whined in disbelief. Chan felt his brain short circuit, "Clench again," he commanded, needing to hear that again. Your lips wobbled in embarrassment but you obeyed nevertheless. You whimpered, clenching your sloppy cunt and there it was again. A. Filthy. Squelch. 

"Chris if you don't hurry up. I swear on my name, I'm going to lose it," Felix growled, palming his clothed bulge. "Not on my watch," Chan grunted, wincing when his throbbing cock slapped against his abdomen. You whined at the sight of his precum-dripping cock, "Need you so fucking bad," you sobbed, sexually frustrated with the teasing. Chan slapped your drenched cunt, instantly sending shocks of pleasure up your body, "Lift your hips," he instructed, tugging your panties off and tossing them to Hyunjin. 

"Just what I needed," Hyunjin slurred, wrapping your panties around his pulsing cock. The warmth of your slick against his aching cock sent his mind hazy. Chan easily slipped two fingers in your needy hole, "So ready and wet for us," he said, adding another finger to his thrusts. You babbled, pleasure coating your body in a familiar comfort. Chan slicked his cock with your arousal and slapped your pretty little hooded clit with his dripping cockhead.

You hiccuped whenever the slit of his cockhead would envelop your clit. Chan leaned down, lining his cock with your fluttering cunt, "Happy fucking birthday, baby girl," he growled, pushing in one quick thrust. You whimpered from the stretch, gripping hard around his cock. Chan's knees buckled, groaning against your ear, "Fuck, fuck!" he gruffed, thrusting his hips as he worked your hole open. You ran your hands up your top, cupping your sensitive chest while Chan pumped his cock in and out of your hole.

"Dirty girl," he purred, picking up his pace to fuck your cunt out relentlessly. Whines echoed within the room, spurring the boys on. You looked up at Chan with half-lidded eyes, drool dripping down the sides of your lips as your tears welled up. "Take my cock, baby girl," he groaned, massaging your inner walls. Your body writhed, orgasm teetering on the edge, "Shi-shit, I'm cum-cumming," you stuttered, arching your back. Chan quickened his thrusts, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves, "Look at me as you cum, little one," he instructed, gripping your jaw.

You sobbed, staring directly into Chan's firm gaze when the coil in your abdomen snapped, "Hah, ah, fuck!" you gasped, biting down your bottom lip. Chan jerked his hips with a few more thrusts, "Take it, fuck," he sighed, pumping your cunt with his orgasm. You shuddered at the warmth, a dopey smile etched on your lips. Chan eased his cock out of your hole, "Good girl," he chuckled, stroking your messy cheek. You shuffled yourself up and spun the wheel again.

"Seungmin," you panted, catching your breath. He chuckled, cupping your cheek to give you a deep kiss. "Mmhm," you moaned, licking Seungmin's bottom lip. He smirked and nipped your tongue, "Naughty girl," he whispered, pulling away. "Yours," you said, raising your arms for him to slip off your top. Seungmin sighed, eyeing your body, the light sheen of sweat made his mind spin, "On your knees," he instructed, tugging down his boxers.

Drool pooled your mouth at the sight, Seungmin's slender and pretty cock curved against his happy trail made your cunt clench. "Use your hands, pretty," he said, patting your head. You wrapped your hands around his cock, stroking it languidly. He brushed your hair back, "Such a pretty birthday girl," he hummed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You kissed the tip of his cock, smearing precum all over your lips. Seungmin groaned, "Lick my cock, pretty. Get it drippy," he said, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail.

You mewled, "Mhmm," you hummed, licking up from the base. "That's it," Seungmin panted, keeping his eyes on you. Drool dripped down your chin as you flicked your tongue against his frenulum. Precum oozed past his slit, "Fuck, pretty," he grunted, tugging your hair. You moaned, swirling your tongue around his cockhead. A sudden slap to the cheek drew a loud whimper from you. "Impatient are we?" he asked, smirking when his plans worked.

"Huh?" you questioned, looking up with a confused gaze. Seungmin cooed, "Did I say you can suck on my cockhead like that?" he asked, loving the way your eyes widened in realisation. Your lips settled in a pout, stirring Seungmin's internal sadism. "Open wide, pup," he instructed, tapping his cock on your lips. You parted them, huffing warm air onto his cockhead. Seungmin smirked, "Don't forget to breathe," he said, sliding his cock down your throat in a single thrust.

You gagged around his cock, tears dripping down your eyes. Seungmin growled, using your hair as leverage to buck his hips. Your whines grow muffled around his cock. The weight of his shaft made your head spin. "Always love how fucking warm your mouth is, puppy," Seungmin gruffed, eyeing the bulge in your throat made by his girth. You moaned, hollowing your cheeks as much as you could. "Yes, yes, fucking hell," he grunted, fucking your tight mouth.

"Mmh," you keened, swallowing around Seungmin's cockhead. You shuddered, staring up at him with the need to milk every last drop of his orgasm. Seungmin felt his knees waver, shocks enveloping his body, "Fuck, fuck, hah!" he growled, holding your face to the base of his cock as he came. You swallowed as much as you could, thrashing slightly when you couldn't breathe. Seungmin noticed and pulled his hips back, easing his cock out of your mouth. 

You huffed out a puff of warm air, cum coating your tongue and lips. Seungmin chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, "You did so good for me, puppy," he hummed, handing you the wheel to spin again. You gulped, leaning your head against Seungmin's thigh as you watched your breath. You weakly spun the wheel again, "Innie-ah, it's your turn," Seungmin said, reaching for a bottle of water for you to drink. 

Jeongin stroked your hair, "Just lie down, angel," he said, helping you lay back. You pouted, "Innie, kiss," you rasped, making grabby hands towards him. He chuckled, placing a peck on your lips, "Precious," he whispered, pinching your cheek. You whined, glaring through your droopy eyes. Jeongin easily lined up his cock with your cunt, "Are you ready, angel?" he asked, teasing your gaping hole. You nodded, hooking your legs over Jeongin's shoulder, "Please, Jeongin," you pleaded.

"As you wish," he said, sinking his cock to the hilt. You arched your back as the air got knocked out of you. Jeongin gripped the back of your thighs and began thrusting at a frantic pace. You cried at the get-go, ears ringing from the shocks buzzing under your skin. Jeongin didn't hold back, fucking Chan's cum back into your cunt. Babbles spilt past your lips, mind barely comprehending anything else except Jeongin's cock hitting all the right places. 

Changbin groaned, just as surprised about Jeongin's desperate bucks, "Holy shit," he whispered, pressing his thumb between Felix's slit. Felix hissed, "Fuck, they look hot," he grunted, clenching his jaw. Jeongin growled, using his hand to press the subtle bulge under your skin. Your eyes rolled back at the pressure, and a silent scream slacked your jaw. "Fuck you're clenching so fucking tight, angel," he grunted, pounding your sensitive hole. 

You cried out, feeling your orgasm snap without a warning. Jeongin whimpered, buckling against your raised legs as his orgasm broke, "Ah, hah, ah," he gasped, kissing down your ankles to distract himself from the orgasmic clench. You lay there panting, eyes barely focusing on anything. Jeongin mewled, easing his cock from your cunt, "I think she killed my cock," he whined, getting his baring. The boys laughed at his declaration. 

Seungmin held the wheel in front of you, "Go ahead and spin it, pretty," he said, feeding you a bite of cake. You licked your lips and spun the wheel. "Jinnie hyung," he read, looking at Hyunjin. "Let's take a quick break," Hyunjin said, wiping down your body. Seungmin nodded, feeding you a few snacks. You wiggled, pleased by the pampering. Chan wiped your matted hair, "Having fun, little one?" he asked, booping your nose. You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, scrunching your nose.

He chuckled, "Good," he said, kissing your forehead. Hyunjin rubbed your thighs, "All good for more?" he asked, trailing his hand down to your tummy. You nodded, spreading your legs apart. Hyunjin cooed, making himself comfortable between your thighs, "How could they neglect this pretty little clit?" he pouted, blowing softly against it. Your body twitched, heat building under your skin. Hyunjin smirked, darting his tongue to taste. He moaned, latching his plump lips around your pulsing clit.

You bucked your hips, overwhelmed by the sheer eye contact Hyunjin gave, "Hyune," you whined. Hyunjin chuckled, pulling off your clit to lick your urethra. "Fuck!" you cursed, arching your back off the couch. Hyunjin smirked, flicking his tongue against the sensitive hole. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the familiar pressure Hyunjin was trying to trigger. "Don't be afraid, love," he purred, pressing his face against your quivering cunt. 

You whimpered, gripping Hyunjin's hair as you pissed, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," you sniffled, trembling. Hyunjin pulled away the moment he noticed you let go. He groaned, shivering when your warm piss landed on his crotch, "Fuck, love. You're perfect," he purred, palming his drenched boxers. You sniffled, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Hyunjin chuckled, letting his cock slap against your throbbing clit, "Messy little girl. Even on your birthday you're making a mess," he degraded, licking his lips.

"Meanie," you mumbled as your lips wobbled. He cooed, pumping his cock with his wrist, "Only to you, lovely," he growled, cumming onto your skirt. You glared at him, crossing your arms. Hyunjin found you adorable, "Aww, my sweet little love is all sulky," he said, pampering your face with kisses. You couldn't help but giggle at the kisses, "Stop," you whined, squirming. He laughed, "Aww but my little girl is mad at me," Hyunjin said, pampering more kisses. 

You melted under the kisses, "Hyune," you sighed, nosing his cheek. He cooed, "Sweet little girl," he chuckled, kissing your forehead. Seungmin brushed your hair back, "Ready for another?" he asked, holding up the wheel. Chan clicked his tongue, "Before that, take a sip, little one," he said, tilting the bottle against your lips. You gulped down, not realising how parched you were. Seungmin chuckled, "Just four more, pretty," he said, seeing you spin the wheel.

"Minho hyung," Seungmin called out, looking over his shoulder. Felix groaned, hair matted against his forehead, "I don't know how long more I can edge myself," he grunted, gripping his thighs. Jisung smirked, "Should we suck off Channie hyung while we wait?" he prompted, grinning at the idea. Felix chuckled, taking Changbin's hand too, "Anything that can keep me from cumming," he said, ready to cause some mischief. 

Chan's eyes widened when they pushed him back down on the couch, "Okay, okay. You hyenas'. Get on your knees," he chuckled, tugging down his boxers. Felix took the lead, licking a stripe up Chan's flaccid cock. Changbin positioned himself beneath, wrapping his lips around Chan's balls, sucking them into his mouth. "Good such boys," Chan rasped, used to being the group's soother. Jisung got on the couch, sinking his head to place kitten licks between Chan's slit.

You eyed the three of them, arousal spurring again from the sight. Minho chuckled, "Don't they look pretty, kitten," he asked, holding special something in his hand. You nodded, "Very," you said, turning your focus back to him. "Close your eyes, 'cause I got myself a little gift just for you," he purred, stroking your cheek. You did as told, heart pounding in your ears from the anticipation. Minho clenched his jaw, wearing the mask, "Open," he instructed, wrapping his hand around your throat.

"Holy shit," you gasped, eyes widening. Minho smirked, "Do I look spooky, kitty?" he cooed, grabbing your waist. You whimpered in response, head spinning just from the sight of the Ghostface mask adorning Minho's body. He tilted his head, "All you need to do, is scream for me," he said, flipping you on your stomach. You yelped, hands instantly clawing the fabric beneath. Minho chuckled, stripping off his belt to tie your wrists together, "You can say your safeword anytime, kitten," he whispered, patting your head. 

You nodded, raising your hips just how he liked it. Minho hummed, hands groping and squeezing your plush ass, "Fucking mine to ruin," he grunted, pumping his cock with his wrist. You gulped, hearing a loud squelch coming from Minho's leaking cockhead. He huffed beneath the mask, riling himself up just to trigger his desperation. Minho clenched his jaw, "Breathe," he warned, sinking his cock past your fold with a single thrust. A broken scream crawled up your throat, drawing attention from all around the room. 

Minho wasted no time ploughing your cunt, his left hand pressed firm on your lower back, "Work for it, kitten. Clench your fucking cunt," he groaned, rolling his hips precisely. Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to focus on the feeling of your ribbed walls clenching around his girthy cock. Minho hissed, laughing maniacally at your cries, "That's it, kitten. Scream louder," he growled, thrusting his cock at a brutal pace. 

Your body quivered, cunt squeezing hard enough that Minho felt his cock get pushed out. "You ain't escaping me, kitty," he chuckled, gripping the sides of your hips as leverage. "Ah, hah, hah! Fuck!" you screamed, arching your back when Minho forced his cock deeper. The tip of his cock pressed snuggled beside your cervix. Minho huffed, gritting his teeth, "Mhm, hah," he sighed, trailing down his hand to pinch your swollen clit.

"Hhgh," you whimpered, sobbing the moment your orgasm broke. Minho hissed, tightening his hold to make you milk his cum, "Take it, kitten. We need to make it stick," he growled, coating your inner walls with his orgasm. Your thighs trembled from the aftershocks, brain foggy from the high intensity buzzing through. Minho tugged off the mask, hair drenched with sweat dripping down his neck, "Fuck, that thing is hot," he gruffed, tossing it on the floor.

Chan's cock stood hard and throbbing, the three brats decided to edge him each time you screamed. Felix placed a kiss on Chan's saliva-coated cockhead, "Is she still coherent?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Minho rubbed your back, "Kitten?" he asked, easing his cock from your hole. You whimpered, lifting your head to plop it on a pillow, "I'm good," you slurred, eyes half-lidded. Hyunjin tapped your lips, "Suck," he instructed, letting you swallow down some fruit juice.

Jeongin held the wheel in front of you, "I'm sure the other hyungs' will be gentle," he said, giving them a side glance. You knew for a fact that's a lie but you spun the wheel anyway. "Bin hyung," Jeongin said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Changbin got up from his knees, cock hard and throbbing. "C'mere bunny, lay on my chest," he said, positioning your cunt in front of his face. You nuzzled his cock, breathing in the familiar musk. Changbin cooed, placing kisses on your inner thighs, "Messy little pussy," he teased, laying a firm smack on your ass. 

You whined, grazing your teeth against the gland of his cockhead as retaliation. Changbin groaned, internally finding you adorable, "Okay, okay," he chuckled, licking the outer folds of your cunt. You moaned, mimicking his licks, "Binnie," you whispered,  placing sloppy kisses around his shaft. He spat on your clit causing your hips to buck, "Our stunning bunny," he sighed, flicking his tongue against your abused clit. A shudder ran through your spine, "Fuck, hah," you keened, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.

Changbin growled and with a flat tongue he lapped your cunt clean. You moaned around his cock, the stretch hurting the edges of your lips the lower your sunk. Changbin closed his eyes, immersing himself in the scent of your pussy smearing on his face. A squeal vibrated his cock when you felt his tongue flex within your canal. Your eyes crossed, pleasure easily building from the around of orgasms they coaxed from your body so far. Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, focusing on bringing you to the edge. 

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him in tight, your throat relaxing around his sensitive cockhead. Changbin growled, thrusting his tongue while his fingers rubbed and pinched your clit on the occasion. Moans grew in octaves as you got close to the edge. Changbin's thighs quivered, feeling the same pleasure. "Cum for Binnie, bun," he keened, trying his hardest not to buck his cock down your throat. Snot and drool coated Changbin's pelvis, you squeezed your eyes tight, ears buzzing from the appending high.

A muffled curse could be heard when you gushed all over Changbin's face, squirting both the remains of your orgasm and Minho's out of your canal. Changbin growled, marking the flesh of your ass when the clear warmth coated his skin, "Yeah, hah, hah," he panted, cumming down your throat. You choked around his shaft, nose burning when cum went up. Minho helped you pull off, "Precious little kitten is too tired to lift herself," he chuckled, making you blow your nose. 

Jisung lifted you, "Lix and I came to an agreement to use you together, princess," he said, nuzzling your cheek. You laid pliant, eyes dazed and glossy. Felix cooed, stroking your cheek, "Don't worry your little brain, sunbeam. We'll take good care of you," he chuckled, pressing down his thumb on your bottom lip. You instinctively slacked your jaw. Felix smirked, spitting directly on your tongue. You gave a dopey smile, swallowing. Jisung groaned, losing his mind at how cute and sinful you look, "I can die tomorrow," he whispered, tossing his head back.

Felix chuckled, wrapping his hands around your waist, "Thanks to all the boyfriends for loosening your tight cunt, sunbeam. Melt into my chest, you don't have to do a thing," he purred, running his fingers through your hair. Jisung aligned Felix's cock with your hole, "It just gets sucked in," he whispered in awe. Felix groaned, the warmth of your cunt hugging his cock after waiting till the end almost made him bust, "Sung, if you don't hurry," he grunted, face evident with impatience.

Jisung chuckled, pressing his cock beside Felix's, "I know, princess. I know," he cooed, kissing away your stray tears. You sniffled, body aching from the sheer feeling of being stuffed. Felix kissed your cheek, his hands trembling from the tightness, "Happy Birthday, sunbeam," he growled, rocking his hips upwards. Jisung pressed his lips with yours, "Hmm, Happy Birthday," he whispered, licking into your mouth as he rutted his cock with deep thorough thrusts.

Felix marked down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. Jisung latched his lips around your neglected nipple, he moaned and sucked giving them the attention they deserved. You whined, thrashing your head weakly. Felix gruffed, sinking his teeth into your sweet spot when his hips stuttered. Jisung noticed and quickened his pace, helping to bring all three of you to an orgasm. Felix whimpered, toes curling from the pleasure, "Fuck me," he grunted, painting your cunt with cum. 

Jisung bit down on his bottom lip, "Shit, shit, hah," he moaned, bucking a few more times before adding to the mess. Your lips drew into a pout, orgasm aching to burst. Jeongin stood next to Jisung, "I've got you, Angel," he said, pressing a bullet vibrator to your clit. You rasped out a whine, pussy squeezing around the two cock buried within. Jisung felt his knees buckle from the grip, "Fuck, holy fuck, fuck," he babbled, head spinning.

Felix sobbed, nosing your neck to ground himself from a dry orgasm. Your body shook as the final orgasm got drawn out of you, "Hah, hhgh," you sobbed, forcing their cocks out. Jisung sank to his knees, collecting himself. Felix laid back, limp from moving. Minho lifted you, rubbing your back when you started wailing, "Good girl. You're our good girl, hm?" he cooed, reassuring you. Changbin prepared your bath, leaving a few bath toys in it, "Hi, pretty bunny," he whispered, easing your sore body into the warm water.

You sniffled, reaching out to grab a familiar rubber ducky. Chan chuckled, sitting on the side to wash your hair, "Looks like you remember daddy's ducky, yeah?" he asked, rubbing the shampoo on your hair. You nodded, hugging it close, "Ducky," you whispered under your breath. Chan cooed, "Hold my shoulder, little one," he instructed, coaxing you to piss while he cleaned your puffy cunt. You whined at the sting, thighs sore with blooming hand marks. 

Chan hummed, rinsing off the soap suds, "Daddy's got you," he whispered, drying you up and holding you close. You nuzzled his chest, "Sleep?" you asked, looking up. He nodded, "Yes baby, sleep," he said, rubbing ointment on your bruises. You melt into his touches, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Chan carried you down, "Look, baby," he whispered, showing you the scattered pillows and blankets over a row of mattresses. You smiled, hooking your chin over Chan's shoulder. Coos and chuckles, surrounded your body, "Did you enjoy today, bunny?" Changbin asked, plugging in a hairdryer. You nodded, "Best Birthday Ever," you slurred, drifting off the warmth of the hairdryer.

[mcondance]

listen…hear me out…i’m imagining stu falling for a real sweet girl but this girl is like yuck i know your reputation playboy and since he’s obsessed with the chase he’s really gunning for it maybe even calling her as ghostface, getting her scared just so stu can swoop in and be like awh poor baby here i’ll keep you safe <3 big mean ghostface can’t get ya when im around

we should form a collaboration. (this got so long anon. i blame you. 18+) this idea has my brain turning like it gets him going so bad to scare you and then be able to come back and be your savior. it appeases the side of him that likes the chase, and the side of him that likes being in control. i think they’re both linked to his need for dominance and his sadistic nature so this is a win win for him.

you know him through sidney’s boyfriend billy, but you’ve never said more than a couple of words to each other outside of the friend group. aware of his reputation, your answer to his question is easy.

you tell him no, that you wouldn’t touch him with a 3-and-a-half foot pole. (he responds in typical stu fashion. he slaps a hand over his chest, expressing how hurt he is by your rejection, a knowing smile etching across his face.)

and so begins the chase. you turn him down over and over again, inviting sidney to the dates he asks you on, saying that the movie he wants to see with you just isn’t your taste— even if he knows he heard you talking to sid about how you wanted to see it just the week before, stupid little excuses to avoid everything he asks you.

he doesn’t mind. your rejections of his advances let him feel the way he does when he’s shrouded in that fearful black cloak, coming up with more and more ways to get you.

he keeps his distance— ghostface, that is. stu doesn’t want to scare you yet. with occasional phone calls that he directs to more people than just you, he lets you off easy, makes it seem like it’s just random.

but he’s getting a little anxious, and he’s always been impatient. he wants you.

billy and sidney are out of town for the weekend. and you’re terrified, more and more people close to you have been turning up dead. you resort to asking stu to stay with you for the weekend.

if he gets you to fuck him while he’s “protecting” you from ghostface? god he’d feel so good. he never forgets his alter ego, the slasher that terrifies your sleepy little town, but playing as your loving, caring little “friend” is fun too. he thinks you’re kinda stupid, to let him stay over at your house under the guise of keeping you safe.

you’d changed into your house clothes when you both got to your house, telling him not to touch anything while you were gone. when you came out he was in a t shirt and shorts, and he looked awfully good.

you’d let him have some of your snacks, throwing a bag of hot chips at him and perching on the other end of the living room sofa. you’d turned on some long ass video essay, and he actually found it sort of interesting, quizzing you on what certain stuff meant before you got tired and wanted to sleep.

he thinks, maybe you do have a thing for him. why else would you let a freak like him stay over? whatever the case may be, he’s here. in your pretty pink and white bedroom, he almost scoffs at the softness of it all.

“‘s cute.”

“yeah. i put blankets and shit on the couch. you sleep there.”

his lanky body barely fits on the small chair, but he knows he won’t be there too long, so he doesn’t complain.

the blanket you gave him smells like you, and he basks in it. your room is silent, for a while. in the darkness, your mind gets to you and you’re so scared even with stu right there.

“stu,” you whisper.

“yeah?”

“can you come sleep over here? i’m scared.”

there it is.

“yeah, ‘f course.” he feigns genuine sympathy, though you’re smarter than that and no matter how hard he tries, there’s always a sliver of depravity peeking through his words.

you scoot from the middle of your bed to the one side, lifting the covers up to let stu take the other side. too terrified to even get smart with him, you welcome him into your bed.

what a terrible mistake you’ve made.

in the light streaming through your windows, he looks gorgeous, blue eyes gazing softly at your worried expression.

“hey,” he starts, reaching out to rest his hand on your shoulder. you don’t shrink away. you’re frozen. “i got you. promise i’ll keep you safe.”

he’s full of shit. but it works.

“can you just. . just hold me. don’t make it weird.” you scoot closer to him.

“i won’t. come ‘ere.”

shifting, you move until your back is pressed to his front. he wraps his arms around you, cradling you and your fragile psyche in the palm of his hand.

“d’you think he’ll try and come for me?” you ask him.

“i dunno. but i promise i’ll do everything i can t’keep you safe.”

god, he impresses himself sometimes.

“thank you.” you whisper, the words stuck in your throat.

“no problem.” you can feel him looking at you, can see him out of the corner of your eye.

with his arms wrapped around you, all the feelings you’ve gained for him over the past weeks come to a head. he’s warm behind you, and he’s holding you just tight enough.

you twist around to where you can see him, and if you were standing your knees would have buckled from his gaze.

“if i let you kiss me, would you promise not to make it weird?”

“promise.”

“okay,” you breathe. and you kiss him.

what a terrible, terrible mistake you’ve made.

it all goes so fast from there. one kiss turns into many and you’re turning around so you can face him all the way.

he’s got you on your back and his hand down your shorts before you know it. his lithe fingers toy with you, his mouth swallows every single one of your sounds, his body provides you comfort, a distraction from the murderer desecrating your safe town.

you come for him. you make a mess on his fingers, the ones he knows are soaked with blood. he could almost shout from how elated he is to have you wrapped around his fingers.

over you he moves, pulled by his collar on top of you and to your lips again. he wants to be smug about it, to note the lack of 3-and-a-half feet between you two, but he doesn’t.

instead, he kisses you like a normal boy would kiss a girl he liked. instead, he professes his protection when you make him promise again.

instead, he kisses you through the stretch of him entering you. “‘s okay, you got it. doin’ so good.” he could blow his load now, at the sight of you in pain and pleasure, at the sound of your hisses and deep breathes.

he slides home. inches deep inside you and even farther in your mind, he fucks both. he’s done this before, fucked a girl in a show of devotion that she’ll fawn over, a false bridge of vulnerability that he inwardly laughs at. it brings him satisfaction he can only get one other way.

you feel safe. safe as he pushes his hips against yours, his cock kissing and sliding against every electric spot inside you. his hand is warm on your cheek, cupping your face and the other is firm on your hip. you whine with each rock into you, body tingling, ears prickling as he groans in your ear. sounds he’s only ever heard on the other end of the phone.

with slow, calculated moves he makes you come again, and god it feels good. in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed, cause all it took was being afraid for your life and stu got you where you know he wanted you.

but stu’s been in this situation enough times to know what comes next, and how to prevent it. it’s easy, kissing you before you have the chance to keep thinking and fucking you to another orgasm.

it happens again the next night. battered and paranoid, you’re being played into his arms and you don’t even know it. you’re embarrassed about it, but in your clouded mind it feels genuine. it feels like stu really cares. at first it didn’t, but now that he’s still coming around even after he got you in bed, maybe he does care.

sidney comes home and stu goes back to his and billy's place. you think you can calm down with sidney back and stu and billy coming over occasionally. you let stu stay the night in your room sometimes, and he gets what he wants from you again.

your neighbor's killed. what the fuck, when will this end? this time, stu comes over, and he stays. you can't sleep a night without him. you think you're being targeted. the only time you feel peace is when stu's fucking your mind away. you’re reliant on him. in his absence all you feel is fear.

the phone calls continue, and stu’s there to answer them, telling whoever’s on the other end to go fuck themself. again, he plays you into his arms. “don’t think about him. think about me.” he tells you, guiding your face from the phone beside your bed to his, and he lets you close the gap. he likes letting you make the first move. it fills him with pride at his psychotic deception, the way he’s turned you into exactly what you said you’d never be.

he thinks about sneaking out to don the cloak, showing up at your doorstep just to see the horror in your eyes. he resigns to dialing your number when you’re out, calling you and listening to your voice as you realize who’s on the other line. he follows you out sometimes and watches your paranoid moves, blood coursing hot through his body every time you look over your shoulder.

at your house, he comforts you when you crumple into his arms, suggests that maybe, you shouldn’t go anywhere without him. you accept.

god, what have you become. if you’re not full of stu then you’re full of terror, and he takes pleasure being the bearer of both of these things. you belong to him, your thoughts, your body, your feelings, it all belongs to him.

he loves to hear you go over his and billy’s crimes over and over again, lives for the disgust and fear in your voice when you recount the murders. he could probably get off to it, to your sad little words. and at night, he revels in being the only one that can make you feel okay.

you’ve become the perfect victim, and he didn’t even have to flash his knife. maybe he’ll keep you around.

[hoshifighting]

i enjoy your work so much!!! i love reading new posts whenever you update (which is so frequent and im always in awe of how creative your brain is!!) im wondering if you had similar work to your most recent reaction but with mommy issues instead? giving a tight hug to all my peeps struggling through parental relationships ❤️‍🩹

seventeen x reader with mommy issues

a/n: thank you anon 🥺🥺❤️ i hope you like it, and > giving a tight hug to all my peeps struggling through parental relationships pt.2

WARNINGS: mommy issues, svt mostly doing girly things with you.

seungcheol: cheol’s the type to instinctively take a nurturing role without even realizing it. he’ll remind you to eat, help you pick out clothes for the day, and even braid your hair if you let him. “does this look okay?” he asks, tongue sticking out in concentration as his big hands fumble a little. he’s all about making sure you feel cared for in every little way, even if it’s just holding you close while you vent.

jeonghan: knows how to fill that space without making it obvious. he’s the one who’ll ask his sister to help him paint your nails, gossip about random shit, or let you borrow his skincare products. “c’mere, let me do it for you,” he says, gently dabbing serum on your face while teasing you about how bad you are at self-care. it’s his sneaky way of saying, i’m here for you.

joshua: takes on that classic comforting role, always making sure you feel heard.he’ll offer to bake cookies with you or even sew something small together. “it’s okay to miss her,” he’ll say softly, holding your hand. “but you’ve got people now who care about you, including me.”

junhui: create those bonding moments you might’ve missed out on. he’s the type to grab your hand and drag you into the kitchen, insisting you bake something together even if it’s a disaster. “this is supposed to be fun, not perfect babe...” he laughs as flour gets everywhere. he doesn’t try to replace anything, but he makes you feel like you’re not missing out anymore.

hoshi: his appproach is so wholesome it hurts. he’s the kind to pull you into his lap while he combs through your hair, humming softly. “you deserve to feel spoiled,” he says with a grin, and suddenly he’s dragging you to the mall for a mini shopping spree. “pick something cute, okay? you can’t say no—it’s my treat.”

woozi: his way of comforting you is subtle but so meaningful. he won’t push you to talk, but when you’re struggling, he’ll sit you down and quietly braid your hair or make tea for you. “you don’t have to do this alone,” he’ll say in his soft, no-nonsense voice. sometimes it’s just the quiet, supportive presence that heals the most.

wonwoo: he’ll read to you, help you organize your space, or even teach you how to do things like fixing a hem or arranging flowers. “this is kinda relaxing, isn’t it?” he says as you both work together, his calm energy making you feel safe and understood.

minghao: would suggest journaling together, so you can focus more on yourself, than focus on the house problems. “it’s okay to feel like this,” he says, squeezing your hand. “but you’re more than what you’re missing.” he makes sure you feel strong enough to rebuild those pieces.

mingyu: mingyu goes all in on being your cheerleader. he’s the one who’ll sit on the floor with you to do DIY face masks or giggle with you over silly videos. “do you want me to call my sister?... don't really know what a cut-crease is...” he says with a goofy grin, trying his best to make you feel loved and cared for in every way he can.

seokmin: he s exactly what you need when the weight of everything feels heavy. he’ll pull you into the kitchen to teach you his favorite recipes, or he’ll sit down with you to sew a button back on your shirt. “see? you’re already amazing at this!” he beams, making you feel proud of yourself for even the smallest things.

seungkwan: ultimate comforter. he’ll organize a mini self-care day, complete with snacks, facials, and trashy TV. “no one’s judging you here,” he says, rubbing your back as you tear up. his endless affirmations—you’re doing amazing, you deserve love, you’re enough—are exactly what you need to hear.

vernon: he’ll suggest stuff like planting a little herb garden together or decorating a space to make it yours. “babe I think I planted my ring...” he says, looking at the plant pot that will be all messy in seconds just to find the piece of silver.

chan: he’s the guy who’ll offer to watch cheesy movies with you, paint your nails (even if he sucks at it), or teach you a new dance—and stumbling on his own feet on purpose—just to make you smile. “you deserve to feel cared for.”

[aquaticmercy]

Not a request but just some thoughts! I don’t know how to explain it but:

Bucky: girl dad through and through

Steve: Boy dad (I love him so much but i genuinely feel if he had a daughter he would raise her like a son because he don’t know what he’s doing)

Sam: Both boy and girl dad, but the boy always turns into a carbon copy of him while simultaneously being a mama’s boy

omg thank you anon for these thoughts!

Enjoys these Dad! Bucky, Steve, and Sam blurbs!

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes would make the best girl dad. And he’s the best girl dad precisely because everything he’s been through. Because all of the violence and trauma. It’s why he’s so gentle with his daughter, why he’s extra careful around his little girl. 

He spent years being nothing but a weapon, and now that he has the life he shares with you and your daughter, he is so scared of hurting either of you that he treats you both like you’re made of glass. 

He still has that 1940s mindset buried in there, though. Not because he’s a jerk— he knows better than that— but because it’s just there because it was drilled into him from a very young age. 

He catches himself sometimes thinking her daughter should be all dainty and protected and doted on 24/7, and he reminds himself that she has to learn how to be on her own someday.

Still, he treats his daughter like he’s her bodyguard, the way he does with you. He still opens doors for you, stands just a bit too close on the sidewalk. He’s got this invisible shield around both of you. He doesn’t even mean to; it’s just there instinctively.

So now imagine his face when his little girl starts ditching dolls and princesses for more  traditionally masculine things. 

Bucky is very supportive, although he has to manually override some of his 40s brain.

She loves the drums, and he’s all for it. He gets her lessons. He sits next to her during practice to catch all the sticks she drops trying to do complicated tricks. He high fives her whenever she does a sick beat. 

She’s also all about football (soccer). He notices it when she’s cheering for the women’s national team during the World Cup like her life depends on it. 

Bucky immediately starts looking at tryouts and academies. When she has a game, he’s out there on the sidelines, grinning whenever she does anything even remotely good, screaming encouragements when she loses the ball, and celebrating with her when she scores a goal.

But god, it’s hard for him to watch her take a tumble, all elbows and skinned knees. She hits the ground here and there and he winces every time, heart in his throat. He’s so adorably worried until she gets back up and gives her daddy a big thumbs up. 

And yet when she goes in for a not-so-great tackle, he’s the loudest one cheering on the field (and the first one complaining when the ref gives her a yellow card).

But then. Then she decides she wants to try Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. She says she wants to be tough, like him.

This is where Bucky might draw the line. “There’s no way,” he tells you. Not his little girl, rolling around on some mat with kids twice her size, learning to choke people out. 

It makes him think of all the things he’s done, the things he was forced to learn, the violence he was engineered to deliver, and he can’t bear the thought of her going anywhere near that world. 

He wants to shield her from it, to keep her protected, untouched by any of that.

You, of course, see right through him. You sit him down one night and tell him, gently but firmly, that she’s her own person. 

That she’s got his strength. And if she wants to do this, it’s because she wants to be more like him. Because she looks up to him. Because she thinks her daddy is the best person in the world.

It takes a while, but he comes around. But not only because his little girl wants to be like him, but also because he sees so much of you in her. 

You both have the same spark, the same drive, the same way of nudging him to grow. To challenge his thoughts and beliefs.

He watches his daughter march into her first Jiu-Jitsu class with this fierce little smile, the kind he remembers seeing on his own face back in the day.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s terrified. But he’s proud, too. Because she's challenging him to be better, braver, just by being herself. 

And every time he watches her spar, he finds himself cheering—softly, at first. Soon, he’s the loudest parent in the room. His little girl, fighting her own battles, just like her dad.

-

Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers would be a fantastic boy dad.

He’d never admit it, but part of him always fantasised having that kind of relationship with his own dad—playing catch and putting on barbecue, doing all those white picket fence  father-son things. But his dad died when he was young, and even if he hadn’t, Steve would be too small, too sickly, to keep up. 

Now, with a son of his own, he absolutely craves bonding with the kid. And of course he’d love him no matter what, but there's just enough super-soldier serum running through his son’s veins to let him be strong and athletic.

And for a while, everything’s perfect. Steve takes his boy to baseball games, teaches him to throw a curveball, and they spend endless afternoons in the yard sprinting (Steve slows down a bit) and throwing frisbees. During the summer, you could hear them both laughing and talking from sunrise to sunset. It’s everything he dreamed about.

But as his kid grows, Steve starts to feel a distance.

His son’s childhood is just... different.

He’s popular at school and his biggest worries seem to revolve around sports day, acing his tests, and keeping up with all the clubs and extra classes he’s signed up for. His son doesn’t have to fight his way through the day just to be heard or seen. People listen to him. He’s the kid everyone wants to be around. His friends look up to him.

Steve can’t help but remember how different his own childhood was—every day a fight just to prove himself, to survive in a world that didn’t give a weak kid like him any breaks.

He remembers those long, lonely days where he’d sit at the edge of the playground, watching the other boys run across the field, laughing and tackling each other in games he could never join. Sometimes, he’d be nursing a bruised rib or hiding a scraped knee, feeling a bit isolated. He remembers how desperately he’d wanted to be a part of it—to have a world that embraced him instead of challenging him at every turn.

Now, watching his son grow up so different from that—so at ease in his own skin—fills him with happiness. Still, Steve feels a strange tug in his heart. 

Steve can’t help but feel like he’s on the outside looking in, wondering if he can truly understand this world his son is growing up in. He’s scared that him and his son wouldn’t have anything in common anymore.

One evening, after the kid’s asleep, Steve finds himself talking to you for hours about his anxieties.

He tells you how strange it feels, how he doesn't know if he can relate to the person your son is becoming. He can’t shake the feeling that, in some way, his boy’s growing into a world Steve himself never got to experience. A world he cannot help him with.

But you’re there, holding his hand, reminding him that love doesn’t need to look like a mirror. 

A few days later, Steve goes to pick up his kid from school, and what he sees, he will never forget. 

His son was on the playground, standing tall, facing down some older kid who’d been picking on another student— a little boy in a wheelchair. 

Steve’s son was defending someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just like Steve would’ve done back in the day— just like he always does.

When they get home, Steve’s got tears in his eyes as he hugs his son, barely able to say how proud he is. He runs upstairs to tell you what your son did. 

After that moment, all his worries vanish. Steve’s son might not have his struggles, but he's got his heart. 

And that’s all you ever really wanted.

-

Sam Wilson

Sam Wilson as a dad? He’s wonderful. 

You’ve never seen someone so comfortable just rolling with whatever his kids throw at him. 

His little girl has him wrapped around her finger.

When she drags him into one of her imaginary plays, he dives right in without hesitation. 

The two of them have this whole routine now: she’ll declare herself the “Queen of Cupcakes,” and before you know it, Sam’s transformed into her nemesis, “The Grumpy Troll.” 

He’s got a whole stash of masks and scarves just for these characters. He looks ridiculous in a pink tutu and tiara, but he’d never miss the chance to be part of her little kingdom.

But his daughter is not only about tea parties— She’s only eight, but she’s strong-willed and headstrong. She insists on trying things herself first, even if she has to wrestle with it. 

One time Sam reached over to help her open a jar, and she looked up with the most serious little frown, shook her head, and said, “Daddy, I got it.” And she did, after two minutes of huffing and puffing. 

Another time, Sam finds his daughter in the kitchen, a stool dragged up to the counter, sleeves rolled up, determinedly making her own peanut butter sandwich. She’s got peanut butter smeared from cheek to elbow, but she’s concentrating hard, tongue poking out a little as she spreads it just right. When Sam offers to help, she shakes her head without even looking up, determined to get it done.

Then there’s his six year old little boy, who’s gentler, in that way that Sam is. He’s kind-hearted and hilarious in a way that catches you both by surprise. 

After every mission, his son’s the one who toddles over and asks, “Daddy, are you okay?” like he’s got this radar for how people are feeling. He reminds Sam of himself, especially when he worked at the VA.

Sam even found him in the backyard last week, carefully placing a bowl of water and crumbs of bread on the grass. He said “The little bird with the hurt wing might come back, and I don’t want him to be thirsty.”

Another time, he offered his favourite blanket to his sister when she had a cold, even though he always sleeps with it himself. He just tucked it around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug before running off.

And just like his dad, your son is very clingy— very attached to you. If he sees you’re tired, he’ll nestle up on the couch next to you. And when you’re out of the house, he’ll carry your sweater around, or ask a hundred times when you’re coming back.

On the first day of school, your son’s practically clinging to your leg, not quite ready to let go. His eyes are all big, and you could feel how nervous he is without you there. 

Sam crouched down and starts giving him one go his famous pep talks. Before he could finish, his big sister steps in. 

She promises him they’d sit together on the bus and during snack and lunch time, and that she’ll teach him how to be “brave like Daddy.”

Your son squeezes your hand one last time, then lets go, holding onto his sister’s instead as they both walk on the school bus.

“Did you see that?” Sam whispers, his voice full of pride. 

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean back into him, watching your kids grow up in front of your eyes.

-end

[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: cuddling with zb1

a/n: anon this is such a good request thank you also it’s so hard to describe like how people work

notes: yujin is not included due to his age!

wc | 2.1k

jiwoong

big strong warm man

what i mean is jiwoong is the perfect surface to lay on

i think he’s the type of guy to enjoy cuddling but he also doesn’t like need to be cuddling you at all times during your downtime

like it’s not a need yk

and he won’t ask to cuddle (so if you want to and he’s not thinking about it you’re gonna have to ask)

but he’s the type of guy to like … yawn as an excuse to put his arm around you LOL

jiwoong’s ideal cuddling spot is on the couch while you watch tv/a movie

he appreciates it when you lay on him. you’re like his personal and unique weighted blanket

he’ll be sprawled out on the couch and you’ll be on top of him, head on his chest

he will put his arms around your waist and will intermittently poke your sides like he’s checking to make sure you’re real

if you lay there for too long he will kick you off when he feels his arms starting to go numb lol

at night, i don’t think he’s the guy to full on cuddle

i think maybe he’ll put an arm on your waist but that’s it

he doesn’t like your icicle hands jolting him awake at 3 am LOL

if he’s sick he will attach himself to you though … he will also apologize for making you sick afterwards

cuddle rating: 8/10, minus two points for always making you ask

zhang hao

hao is a princess and he likes to sit on your lap

i won’t let anybody tell me otherwise he will actively just sit on you

doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you are he will just sit on you

it’s kinda like the opposite of jiwoong … hao loves to lay on you except he’s (most likely) taller than you so it’s awkward

sometimes you’ll be napping and he’ll scare you awake by literally collapsing on you

he likes cuddles a lot though so that’s not all he’s doing

i said this in another set of hcs i did but i think hao likes being the little spoon

again he’s a princess

but also i think he just likes the feeling? like he feels comforted in your embrace so he wants you to just hug him all the time

he also strikes me as the type of person who gets cold easily so it warms him up too

on rare occasions, he will be the big spoon but it’s usually when you’re feeling bad and it’s making him sad

hao’s ideal cuddling spot is anywhere but he does like the bed a bit more

cuddling with him is also very quiet and relaxing

there are a lot of kisses on the cheek, forehead, pretty much everywhere

overall very soft and fun time !! it’s very intimate and cute

cuddle rating: 9/10, minus 1 point for him telling you to suck it up when your legs go numb from him sitting on you for so long

hanbin

hanbin is sooo clingy

has to have a hand on you at all times so cuddling is regular

like hao, he will cuddle up to you anywhere at any time, it doesn’t matter if you’re alone or literally all of the boys are there

he’ll sit on your lap but also enjoys it when you sit on his

big spoon, little spoon, it doesn’t matter he is LOVING IT!!!

but i think hanbin prefers cuddling on the couch most

idk if anyone else thinks this but he’s so christmas-coded in my brain, so his ideal is sitting on the couch with the fireplace on and just enjoying each other’s company

he likes laying his head in your lap a lot, especially when you’re talking about your days together

because he can see every single move and every expression you make, so he can easily gauge whether you’re talking about something negative or positive

he will switch with you when you’re done talking, so your head will be on his lap as he tells you about everything you did that day

and he’ll play with your hair while he talks it’s very sweet

hanbin is also the type of guy to cuddle with you while you’re sleeping at night

he can’t sleep without you being there :( he’ll require a stuffed animal replacement when you’re gone

if i keep talking about this i’m going to collapse

cuddle rating: 13/10, plus 3 points for the way he nuzzles up to you at any moment he can

matthew

matthew falls asleep every time you cuddle

it’s so bad

you’ll literally just be leaning on him while you sit on the couch, you’ll look up at him, and he’ll be fast asleep

as a result cuddling with matthew can be very uncomfortable because he’s just like asleep on you

i think his favorite thing to do his like … how do i explain this … i couldn’t figure it out so here’s a link to renjun and chenle doing what i'm thinking of

it’s the easiest way for him to conk out and also not cause you to get the worst cramp of your life in your leg

in the rare moments you fall asleep on him it makes him giggle so much that he wakes you up

and then he falls asleep like 3 minutes later

thanks matthew

a lot of your matthew cuddling time comes from napping with him

i could talk about napping for hours but to keep it short it’s just very sweet

matthew is big and strong man and NOT!!! cute guy so he likes to be big spoon a lot

i mean a lot

more than being a strong man i just think matthew likes holding onto things idk

like he’d be content with a huge teddy bear but he prefers you instead … you know

cuddle rating: 8/10, minus 2 points for laughing at you when you fall asleep on him and minus 1 point for falling asleep on you right after, plus one point for being the absolute cutest

taerae

cuddling with taerae is so casual like that’s the only way i can put it

idk it’s like … you’ll be sitting on the couch holding hands

and then he’ll put an arm around you … and then you’ll put your head on his shoulder … and then his legs are on yours … and now you’re here idk

taerae also likes to sit on your lap

except it’s in the funny way where he’ll taerae sashay over and then kinda just perch himself there

arms around your neck and arms crossed

this is his excuse to be near you in front of other people … he makes it jokey so that he can then give you a kiss on the cheek and tell you how much he loves you

loser

i think when you cuddle with taerae seriously it’s mostly in bed

he takes big naps and drags you with him

you fall asleep and wake up in a human knot like 5 hours later

your leg is on top of his and he’s got an arm like laying over your face and you’ve got an arm over his waist

you feel kinda sweaty and gross too but taerae looks really cute so it’s okay

i also think taerae likes to cuddle when he’s not having the greatest day

he’ll just sit down with you and collapse on you, face in your neck and arms wrapped around your waist :(

i love taerae sooo much

cuddle rating: 8/10, minus 2 points for trapping you in a knot for an hour that one time because he wouldn’t wake up

ricky

don’t hate me but i don’t think ricky is a big cuddler

it’s not that he doesn’t like it it’s just not his favorite thing in the whole entire world

his idea of cuddling is like holding your hand LOL

if you’re big into cuddling or your love language is physical touch he’s going to suck up his opinions and cuddle you it’s just gonna be a bit awkward

like he will weirdly put an arm over your shoulder while you lay on him

it’s like being in middle school all over again

he will literally google “how to cuddle” and ask gyuvin for pointers

you’d think cuddling was an olympic sport like just hug ur s/o bro

so i don’t really have much to say on that but i have A LOT to say when it comes to skinship

ricky is a hand-on-your-waist enthusiast

idk it just fits there so perfectly … it’s like his arm was meant to be around your waist

no matter where u go that’s where it is

i also think ricky gives shockingly good hugs? idk they’re kinda hot LOL

he does the thing where he’ll greet you by hugging you with specifically one arm … can you guys envision this like i can

big back hug guy … and he will put his head on top of yours

god SWOON ricky is so UGHHGGHGH

cuddle rating: 5/10 stop asking gyuvin for pointers // hug rating: 10/10 how can u make a hug so attractive bro (i need to write ricky brother’s best friend)

gyuvin

HUMAN TEDDY BEAR!!!

lanky boys are meant to be cuddled i don’t make the rules

he’s just so easy to koala hug cause he’s so long

based on what we know about him i think gyuvin LOOVES to cuddle

specifically i think he likes to lay on your tummy

like you’ll be laying down normally and then he will come lay perpendicular to you so he can use ur tummy as a pillow

if you’re not lying down he will substitute for your chest, and he likes to convince himself he’s the reason your heart is beating that fast (it is beating at an absolutely average rate LMFAO)

his absolute favorite is when you put your head on his chest

it makes his heart flutter and gives him butterflies like he's a schoolgirl about to confess to her crush

you can literally hear his heart pounding when you do it

i think cuddle sessions between you and gyuvin are also gossip sessions

like he will unload every insane thing he’s heard recently onto you and expect you to do the same

when you’re gossiping he likes to lay face-to-face, and a lot of the time he will just put his hand on your face

or he will put his arm on your waist … or mess with your hair

you’ll be saying the most heinous shit about someone and he will be giggling bc he thinks you look pretty

and you do the same exact thing

when you sleep he encases you in an impossible-to-escape limb cage so good luck with that

cuddle rating: 10/10 get ready to hear exactly how that one guy in his math class cheated on his gf

gunwook

HUMAN TEDDY BEAR AGAIN!!!

i know this man is the cuddle CHAMPION like you take one look at him and you can tell he gives warm hugs

he’s also like a space heater so he’s automatically the number 1 person to be around

tbh it could be like 30°f and you wouldn’t need a blanket you’d just need to attach yourself to gunwook

he loooves cuddles soooo much this guy just thinks it’s so cute

he teehees like a teenage girl every time you do

gunwook’s ideal cuddle is you being fast asleep with your face in his chest and your arms around his waist

mostly because he can take these really cheesy selfies of you asleep on him like bro stand UP

but also because he can scroll on his phone and have something to do while he acts as your personal heater

also appreciates laying on top of you which is sometimes difficult because he’s generally larger than you

i also think he would enjoy it when you sit in between his legs and he can like … wrap his arm around you and put his head on your shoulder … does that make sense

when gunwook is sleeping he treats you like the pillow he talked abt in that one clip … so his leg is on you and his chin is on your head etc

it’s cute

sometimes you can’t breathe tho

cuddle rating: 10/10 equal to gyuvin but unique in his own ways. go to the store and get yourself a gunwook

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I was actually wondering if you all could do a really in-depth post specifically on canes versus forearm crutches. I’ve noticed a couple of the recent asks pertain to it, and I think I myself still have one in the queue related to it, but in all of the posts y’all link us too in your answers to those asks, I have found the information is still very sparse and doesn’t directly compare the two in a lot of detail. I would really really love to see a specific dedicated post that breaks down the differences Between them directly, and goes into a lot more detail about what kind of person might prefer a cane and what kind of person might prefer forearm crutches. Differences in conditions, pain levels, fatigue levels, location of issue on their body, other symptoms, examples of disabilities that might more commonly default to one over the other, all that stuff. I’ve looked through basically all your posts on the subject I can find, and still feel like it’s really only scratching the surface, so if there’s a way y’all would be willing to do one big post on this topic specifically, I know at least I would really love it and I think others would as well! Most of the existing posts are a little too broad and surface level, and while I have found them super helpful as a starting point, I would love to see one that zooms in just on these two mobility aids rather than a broad overview of all types of mobility aids being compared like most of the existing resources y’all have. Seriously love what you all do and I would be extremely grateful for this!

Hi anon, just for you:

On Writing Characters Using Canes vs Crutches

[large text: On Writing Characters Using Canes vs Crutches]

This is a writing advice post that doesn't cover every single possibility because that's too impossible to try and do. It's simplified (!!!) to be coherent for writers who have little to no experience with these sorts of mobility aids, and I encourage anyone who wants to write a character using either of these to treat this post as a small part of a larger research process. This post will contain generalizations for the purpose of me wanting to actually finish it. This is writing advice, not medical information, nor something you should be applying to real life.

Please keep in mind that a lot of the disability examples will only be shown in a single category because otherwise this would be a comical block of text. So yeah, I know that a ton of conditions outside the "chronic pain" category also come with chronic pain, but I want this list to be actually easy to look through.

This will compare the cane (singular stick) to crutches (two sticks). Differences between a singular crutch and two canes will be at the end.

Canes

[large text: Canes]

The most primitive mobility aid that's out there. A wrist-height stick with a handle. You hold it in your hand (at a rather natural angle) and that's mostly it - it's meant to follow a standard (left leg forward, right arm forward) gait and be a support meant for generally milder mobility issues. A cane can take up to 25% of body weight, so like half of what a leg does.

As a TLDR, here's what they could be:

One leg unable to bear the entire weight (but not completely unable) - this could be a result of a problem anywhere from the bottom of the foot all the way to the hip.

Milder balance problems - largely neurological, so either a condition that affects the brain, the spinal cord, or the nerves in the leg. There are also some autoimmune, respiratory, and cardiovascular causes as well, plus a few more.

Back/trunk problems, most commonly pain.

To use a cane you need two legs, most people who use canes for leg reasons will have a “good leg” and a “bad leg”. If this is the case, you'd typically hold the cane on the good leg side, as that redistributes the weight - and pain - between the bad leg and the cane.

The good leg needs to be able to bear the whole weight comfortably, the bad leg needs to be able to bear, at the very least, half of the weight. If the disability affects legs to the point where either:

both have problems weight-bearing;

one can't bear weight at all (e.g., amputation, flaccid paralysis, pain too severe);

then two crutches (or other mobility aid, like a wheelchair) would be the move. The cane doesn't replace an entire leg and is meant to be a minor support.

Examples of what would cause someone to use a cane:

Monoplegia or hemiplegia that is spastic (rigid) in the leg. This could be a result of stroke, traumatic brain injury, cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, nerve damage, Brown-Séquard syndrome, polio, encephalitis, transverse myelitis, progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy, alternating hemiplegia of childhood, hemiplegic migraines, or being a hemispherectomy survivor. And many more things.

Chronic pain; arthritis, hypermobility spectrum disorders, chronic patellar instability, h-EDS, neuropathy, peripheral artery disease, past injuries (e.g., broken foot that healed incorrectly), systemic lupus erythematosus, joint replacement, chronic bursitis, and a lot more.

Relatively minor fatigue - most fatigue disorders will be on a wide spectrum, and people's symptoms often vary a lot. But a cane could help with fibromyalgia, Charcot Marie Tooth disease, POTS, scoliosis, severe kyphosis/lordosis, COPD (and other respiratory conditions), or milder forms of CFS/ME. Someone undergoing chemotherapy (or taking some other fatigue-causing medication) could also use one.

Muscle conditions, which are an even bigger spectrum. Spinal muscular atrophy type 3 and 4, early Limb-Girdle muscular dystrophy, tibial MD, Becker MD, or early myotonic dystrophy type 2 can all be reasons to use a cane. Keep in mind that these have drastically different presentations from person to person, and it's not entirely unusual for two people with the same kind of muscular dystrophy to use very different mobility aids (e.g., a tilt-in-space powerchair vs ...no aid at all). These are just the ones where I'm aware of a person who 1) has it, 2) uses a cane, even if it's not the most common aid.

Prosthetic leg on one side; usually below knee (high level amputees will more often go for crutches, even if they use a prosthetic).

The second biggest reason why people use a cane is balance. For this the cane can be held in either hand; some people have a preference, generally for the non-dominant hand for convenience - although many people with balance problems will also have a coordination disorder that might make using their non-dominant hand too difficult. Some people will switch the side they hold it on.

For a lot of people with balance problems, a cane might be the aid they use at home, and use a rollator or a wheelchair outside.

A good cane for balance purposes is a quad cane - it has four legs at the bottom and offer more stability than the single point equivalent. However, the larger base might also mean that for some people it can be easier to hit it with their foot, which ranges from annoying to dangerous.

Examples of disabilities that affect balance;

Many of the things included in the first section - primarily those that directly affect the brain or nerves.

Conditions that cause vertigo - again, many of the same things as before because a lot of them tend to originate in the brain. So other than aforementioned meningitis or stroke and the like: Ramsay Hunt syndrome, migraines, basically any sort of brain damage, POTS, Meniere's disease, labyrinthitis.

Respiratory problems, like chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, severe asthma, or lupus.

Coordination disorders - again, a lot of overlap with aforementioned disabilities, so I'll skip to things I haven't mentioned yet. Ataxia could be caused by a lot of things; some include the Chiari malformation, ataxia-telangiectasia, Friedrich's ataxia, Parkinson's, brain tumors, or Niemann-Pick disease. Dystonia is usually a primary condition rather than being caused by other things (although it can be!). Dyspraxia is also a coordination disorder generally milder than ataxia, and canes can be potentially helpful for it as well.

As mentioned before, some coordination disorders will affect the upper limbs as well, and it might be too difficult to use a cane. For disabilities like Huntington’s disease, or ataxia that significantly affects the hands, rollators and wheelchairs tend to be more helpful.

Anything that causes the person to fall. Fall risk is the primary reason people use canes.

A cane can also be used for back/trunk issues. One can lift off some weight of the body from above the Problem by putting the weight on the arm instead. I have really severe kyphosis as well as (partial) trunk muscle atrophy/coordination problems and quite literally can't straighten my back for more than a few minutes at most - my cane allows me to do that more easily and without needing to think about it as much.

Examples of some conditions that cause that include;

sciatica;

degenerative disk disease;

past spine injury;

scoliosis or severe kyphosis/lordosis.

In my experience, you need fairly good arm strength to use a cane comfortably. For people with more significant weakness in upper limbs, rollators tend to work better.

Grip strength is also important; there are canes designed to mitigate this (the platform cane/crutch comes to mind) but they're not the most common because often (not always!) when someone has this issue they already require a larger mobility aid.

Canes are often a "starting" mobility aid, i.e., a person starts using it at first but later transitions to using something else as their disability progresses (or they realize that it wasn't adequate in the first place, it mostly happens with slowly progressive conditions - when they decide to get a cane, it's often just too late). A cane can be useful at the very start of an onset of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, but it's basically worthless beyond that.

Similarly (kind of), a cane can be the "smaller" mobility aid for someone who uses multiple of them at the same time. Someone dealing with fatigue could use a cane at home, but need a rollator for going out, or a wheelchair for longer trips. Another person could use a cane when going out with a prosthetic leg on, but use a wheelchair or crutches at home when not wearing the prosthetic.

Crutches

[large text: Crutches]

These are more complex and provide more help. Crutches directly affect your gait depending on the exact disability, and take away both hands. They can potentially take up to 100% of body weight for parts of the walking cycle if you have good upper body strength and balance, and 50% otherwise (so, one good or two half-good legs still required).

Crutches are used for a lot of things (realistically too many to cover here) so I'll just go with the main categories that encompass most of them.

A) Both legs can't fully bear weight;

The same things as in the cane section, but present on both sides rather than one.

Hypotonia; can be caused by thousands of things. Some include Down syndrome, Tay-Sachs syndrome, achondroplasia, being born prematurely, brain damage, and congenital hypothyroidism.

Paraplegia that's low-level and/or incomplete, or quadriplegia that's incomplete. Quadriplegia is a huge spectrum as well, and it will depend on the amount of strength and flexibility that the individual person has in their arms and hands.

Bilateral amputation with prosthetics. (Someone who can bear weight no problem but has a milder balance problem could use a cane instead.)

B) One leg can't bear any or a lot of weight;

The same things as in the cane section, they're basically all on a spectrum, so some people choose a cane and others choose crutches.

Unilateral amputation, or congenital limb difference.

Limb length discrepancy where it doesn't touch the ground or barely does so.

C) Significant balance issues;

Same things as for canes, but either more severe or just someone's personal preference.

D) Back/trunk pain;

Same as C).

Additional note based on things I have seen: you can't use crutches if you have no legs and no prosthetics. You can't walk literally just on crutches. You need at least a single leg or prosthetic.

(Yeah I'm aware that there's probably a guy somewhere who does tricks where he does exactly that for a short video. That's Crutches Georg and he should not be counted because 99.9% of crutches users won't be doing that ever.)

Crutches will provide much more stability and relieve more pressure than a cane, but there is a wide range of the amount of support depending on how they are utilized.

What the disability is can actually present itself in the person's gait - there are a few main ones that are associated with crutches;

Four-point. The two legs and two crutches work as four different points of support, and three of them are in contact with the ground at any time. A lot (not all!) of people who use it will use crutches full-time and/or not be able to stand without them. The most stable and the slowest out of all of these.

Three-point. Probably the one most people have in mind when thinking crutches? The crutches both move at the same time, along with the bad leg, then the good leg follows. This is the "broken leg in a cast" way of walking.

Two-point. The closest to how non-crutch users generally walk. It's like having a cane on each side; left crutch forward, right leg forward. Fairly fast.

Step-to. The crutches work as one point of contact, and the legs as the other - both of each will move forward at the same time. In the step-to, a person puts their feet at the crutches' height. Fairly fast as well.

and step-through. I'd say the most difficult, least stable, providing the least amount of support. The same as in step-to, both crutches go forward before both legs, however here the legs get swung through them while the person is only holding up on crutches. This is the fastest that it gets, and can definitely be faster than an abled person walking. You can run quickly like this.

If you have issues visualizing them, there are a lot of great demonstrations on YouTube that you can look up for clarification.

There are a lot of subtle differences in which one people end up using, but as a rule of thumb, the more balance they lack, the more points of support they need. To provide some examples;

a person with quadriplegic cerebral palsy might lack balance and coordination, so they might use a four-point gait.

A person with one-sided tarsal tunnel syndrome can walk with a three-point gait, as it can be used to mitigate weight-bearing fully or partially - if the pain gets worse, they can just... not touch the ground with that leg.

A person with incomplete thoracic spinal cord injury could also work with a three point gait, though they would put both legs on the ground. If someone has good strength in the arms and trunk, they can get both crutches in the front along with one leg, then try to get the second one to go forward as well. This is how a lot of crutch users with a disability affecting two legs, but with decent balance and upper body strength, walk.

A person who had a traumatic brain injury and now experiences balance problems but not as much leg issues could opt for a two-point gait. It does help with weight redistribution, but primarily provides a lot of balance.

Both step-to and step-through are primarily used by single-leg problem havers (like unilateral amputees) in my experience, but I've seen people with diplegia or incomplete low-level spastic paraplegia use it too. You need very good balance and good upper body strength. I've seen dudes do backflips and ride skateboards on crutches like this. You can run as well and be way faster than you think.

The same as canes, crutches require arm strength. The more you're looking to take away from the legs, the more will go to the shoulders. If someone doesn't have the needed arm strength, a rollator will be more helpful. Walkers not so much as they still require some strength to turn.

More Direct Comparisons

[large text: More Direct Comparisons]

The differences between pain and fatigue levels might be somewhat evident from comparing the sections above - to generalize the subject as much as possible: the bigger the pain or the fatigue, the higher possibility of using crutches over a cane is. They provide more relief for both, as well as providing more balance.

Now, there's always exceptions. Someone might not be able to use two sticks, because of a disability affecting one of the arms - hemiplegia is a common example. In this case, the person could prefer to use a single crutch rather than two. They could opt for platform crutches, which don't require as secure of a grip. They might need a rollator instead. They might have a powerchair that they operate with their good arm.

Another thing is that some people will use crutches even if a cane would work just as well. Some people like the grip more, or find them easier to use. They could also like that crutches are seen as more medical than a cane, which could be seen as a fashion accessory. Maybe they can be faster on crutches than with a cane (e.g., if their disability is limited to a single leg, getting it out of the walk cycle might be more convenient) and that matters to them.

And to go with this, some people just don't like crutches! I personally don't like the forearm cuff because I tend to swing my wrist around with my cane rather than hold it perfectly straight, so the cuff seems annoying. For someone else that could be more than a preference, e.g. if they have a limb difference that affects the length of their forearms to be much shorter - a person like this could prefer two canes.

As to what mobility aids are better for which disabilities, it's highly individualized, but to heavily generalize again: canes tend to be more helpful for relatively milder disabilities, and crutches for relatively more significant ones based on the amount of support they provide. But that's an oversimplification so simple that it's not really useful.

Someone with neuropathy in parts of their foot might find a cane completely sufficient, but it wouldn't be as useful for someone with nerve damage that caused flaccid paralysis from the hip down; they would probably prefer crutches. But then again, someone with mild vertigo could use crutches because they prefer them (even if a cane would work just fine) while someone else might have incomplete C6 quadriplegia and use a cane with leg braces over crutches because they enjoy having a free hand.

For more similarities between the two; overuse injuries can happen to both cane and crutch users, generally in the shoulder(s). They're not very common unless you're putting more weight on them than you're supposed to. They're very annoying because it drastically tanks your mobility until they get better (unless you can walk without them just as much that is), but they're treatable with physical therapy.

Now for the two canes and a singular crutch. Let's start with the fact that the latter is infinitely more popular than the former. It's basically the same as a single cane but more supportive; it's good for people who need more balance than a cane provides but can't use both hands. Two canes is very rare and I can't tell you what the actual pattern of choosing them over other options is outside personal preference because I have no idea.

The general conclusion of the post is that crutches and canes really aren't that different, and are more of a spectrum of usable sticks by the amount of support they provide to the user. That's why often you'll see canes and crutches listed as the same thing when it comes to "management of XYZ disability" type resources - for a lot of them they're rather similar in practice, especially when compared to rollators, walkers, scooters, or wheelchairs.

I hope this was more in depth and therefore more helpful, if this still leaves you with some unanswered question feel free to reach out again.

mod Sasza

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[annie-writesstuff]

Come here, kitty, kitty! - Sylus (Part 2)

Summary: The curse of the Evol cats wears off. Majority of it, at least. Sylus finds himself in his 'human' form. However, your reaction is not what he expected. He thinks you're one of the most interesting persons he has ever met.

Warnings: None. Fluff. I really think Sylus is a green flag. Man is guarded, but when he opens up he's a softie. Tall, dark and handsome lol. He is whipped. It turned kinda angsty (sowwy). Slight - perhaps - spoiler/theory about his past if you squint.

Also, thank you to everyone who read part one! I am truly happy that so many of you enjoyed it!

And thank you to the Anon that messaged me! I am truly happy you loved the story! Thank you!

You can read PART 1 here!

The sun filters through your broken blinds. You scrunch your nose, eyelids fluttering until they fully open. Your [e/c] eyes meet your old wooden ceiling. A yawn leaves your lips as you stretch.

"Good morning."

"Morning!" You chirp reflexively, yawning once again.

Wait.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Sylus smirks, wondering if your half asleep brain has finally caught up on what is going on.

"Um..." You stutter, tugging the blanket closer to you. "Hi..?"

The smirk disappears from his face at your tame reaction. Every time he thinks he's got you figured out, you surprise him.

You should've been screaming, trying to get away from him, hurling objects in his direction.

Instead you're looking at him with more curiosity than shock.

"Red?"

He meets your eyes, and nods. "You don't seem surprised."

"I am!" You assure. "It's just... I don't know how to react. I mean... You looked so familiar. And when I looked into your eyes... I realized you were my little kitty."

"Your little kitty?"

A little flustered, you hurry to correct yourself. "I mean... the... the kitty..."

Rising his hand, he stops you. "Now, I do not like owing people. But you took me in and fed me. So thank you, kitten. Name your price."

Eh? A bit flabbergasted, you stare at him. "P... price?"

"Yes."

Honestly, you just want one thing. "Can I pet your ears?"

Pet his ears... is that what you want? Well, who is he to deny such request?

Rather than giving his verbal approval, Sylus leans down, so that you can reach the twitching ears atop his head.

He is a bit uneasy when your hand first makes contact with one of his ears, but he realizes that, just like yesterday, you're being careful and mindful. His ears are sensitive, but the way you're caressing them feels tolerable nice.

"You're a cute big cat." You smile, switching your attention to his other ear.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips as he leans into your touch, a lot more instinctively than consciously.

"If you tell anyone about this, there will be consequences."

You can't help but giggle, solemnly nodding. "Nobody will know."

He nodded, satisfied, and once you have had your fill, he moves away.

"Can I have your name?"

Normally, he wouldn't reveal his identity. However, because he is almost one hundred percent sure you don't know who he is, he complies.

"Sylus."

"How can I get you back home, Sylus?"

"I'd need to borrow your phone, kitten."

You nod, and without an ounce of hesitation, hand him your device, which had charged during the night.

Sylus uses the special code from the unknown number to contact the twins, which soon reply that they will be on their way shortly.

They don't press for any answers when he asks them to bring him a change of clothes.

Good. He is not in the mood to be answering anything.

At around an hour later, he has changed into his suit, and he walks out of your small bathroom, buttoning his dress shirt at the wrist.

"Thank you again for your... hospitality." He reiterates.

You nod, offering some water bottles to the masked individuals that came to pick up the 'boss', as they've called him.

"I hope to see you again, Sylus." You say softly, walking him to the door.

The taller male hesitates for one second, before looking down at you. "I look forward to it, kitten." He says.

This isn't going to be the last time you see him.

He's going to make sure of it.

Once he is back in his penthouse on N109 zone, Sylus can't help but feel bored.

His eyes darken as Mephisto updates him on your whereabouts. He clicks his tongue, expertly maneuvering a golden bullet with his fingers.

Money and power can give him anything he wants.

Except that the one thing he wants is priceless.

His Evol turns to dust the bullet in his hand as he decides his course of action.

Sylus has always found humans interesting, but you... are a complete enigma.

He wants to know every little detail. What makes you smile, what makes you sad. What ticks you, what excites you.

He wants things to go organically. The two of you have a bond, already, and he would never force you into anything, but he's quite sure that you're also thinking about him.

Fate... is cruel.

But it is wise.

You have found each other, and he firmly belives there is a reason why.

Maybe in this life, there is a hope for happiness for him.