#if there's one thing you gotta know about me it's that I will make a rosebush into a motif at any given opportunity
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batboys and brat taming reader who is their best friend(whom they treat like a sugar baby) 👀
The wording confused me a little bit but I think I got it-
I'll take care of you.
Summary: your a brat, a best friend, and a pampered little whore. What else could you want?
Warnings: alluding to smut but none written, spoiling you rotten
Bruce Wayne:
You had known ol’ Brucie a long time. You liked to think of your friendship with him as quite stereotypical. A rich kid who befriends the poor, lowlife kid of a criminal who somehow managed to go to Gotham Academy.
Ever since you were children Bruce always took care of you, he supported you in whatever career path you chose, and when things didn't work out, you could always fall back on him and he would deal with it all. He'd offer multiple times for you to come live at the manor with him but you refused every time. (the bratty part of you just wanted to rile him up and see when he'd snap)
As you two got older, your friendship never wavered, in fact it only got stronger… and that's when the benefits really attached itself to the friends label. Bruce began refusing no for an answer, especially after a really rough run in with one of your abusive exes. He dragged your ass to the manor and set you up with a room, he started paying off any debts you owed, and he got you anything and everything you could ever want.
Yet you were still a brat… he could handle it though, because in the end he knew that your loyalty was his, and he would never betray that trust. He never wanted to lose you.
Dick Grayson:
Whether you were a family friend, or some stranger he saved / met on the street, you and Dick had become really close friends in such a short amount of time. You were both bratty in a way, and each had your fair share of breakups that you could complain about to each other.
You and Dick had a routine where you'd get together after each breakup, either at his house or at yours. You would show up with ice cream, snacks and other things.
and by the end of the night he'd have his cock shoved up your cunt, or your mouth and you both let out your frustrations.
Dick also spoiled the shit out of you. He paid your bills, and was more than happy to do so, he also bought you whatever you wanted, similar to Bruce, and you didn't even have to ask for half the things that he gifted you.
You didnt concider yourself a sugar baby, not until your friends were gossiping about Dick, and told you that he either wanted you to be his girlfriend, or he wanted to keep fucking you, so he spoiled you to gain favor.
either way you shrugged. “And in the end my bills are paid, i have no debt, and i'm happy and have an awesome friend. Sugar baby, girlfriend, I'm taken care of either way.” You told them, and they just laughed and carried on.
In terms of brattiness, he's the brat, always whining, clawing at you for attention, you gotta put that boy on a leash just to get a break, though you found a way to get him to do what you want…
just a spread of the legs.
Jason Todd:
He has no time for brats, he's a busy man, and he could easily have anyone else to have fun with, but he wanted you, wanted to hang out with you. You were Jason’s friend for who knows how long, so he learned how to deal with your attitude long ago.
Food, most of the time, more often than not, something shoved in your mouth… like his fingers… or his cock.
Just something to suck on, that's all you needed to be satisfied.
Though, he always goes out of his way to make you feel good too, maybe he doesn't spoil you with material items, i feel like Jason is a bit more sentimental, so instead he takes you out to nice restaurants, amusement parks, rage rooms lazer tag- anything and anywhere as long as he gets to spend time with you.
He has no need for a girlfriend either, because he has you, his best friend that he gets to fuck- whats better than that.
Tim Drake:
You're his assistant at Wayne Enterprises, you had been working under him for the past couple of years, since you were about 16 and started your internship there. You both went to the Academy too, so it was easy for you and Tim to fall into a routine together. He'd come to your place and pick you up every morning, you'd get coffee then go to school on the weekdays, then when you worked on the weekends he would come pick you up again, and instead you'd go to work.
You were and are the best damn assistant he's ever had, you had a fiery spirit and didn't let anyone talk down to you, you made people see you as an equal, always. Even Bruce appreciated the way you stood up for yourself and those around you.
You were also attentive to all of Tim’s needs. Yeah that's what an assistant did, but you did way more. And because of the things you did, he would give you constant pay raises, or bonuses for your hard work… Then he started picking up little nick nacks that he knew you liked, he started paying attention to your coffee order, and he'd go buy you coffee.
Best part was, you didn't even notice that he was spoiling you, but your coworkers sure did, and they started the gossip train about you being Tim’s sugar baby.
When it finally reached yours and Tim’s ears, you kind of gave each other a look from across the office.
And then you fell into another rhythm… every day at 2 o’clock during his facetime meeting, you'd be under his desk…
if you could make him break, he’d give you his black card.
This was an arrangement you could get behind.
Damian Wayne:
For some reason you caught his eye. Don't worry, it baffled him too. He didn't understand why he found you so exhilarating.
He hated it.
He talked to you, but he'd degrade you,make fun of you, every chance he got, but he'd always use it as an excuse to get close to you.
When it was time for the senior dance, he found out that you had a few guys asking for you to be their date.
He didn't like that.
One day in the hallway, he walked up to you and he practically shoved you into the lockers. “your going to be my date to senior prom.” He demanded.
You stared at him, an unimpressed look across your face. He stammered. “I- i mean…will- will you go to senior prom with me?” he corrected his sentence-
corrected his sentence! what have you done to him?? This cold, bratty batboy, the richest kid in gotham- and he was groveling at your feet from just one look on your face.
You've reduced him to- to… a simp.
Blasphemy.
Tag list:
All: @francesfarhadi @only-my-unexistent-fiances
Batfam:
BW: @ilaiise
DG: @ilaiise
JT: @ilaiise
TD: @ilaiise
DW: @ilaiise
#fanfiction#batfam x reader#batfam fanfic#batfam#bruce wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#damian wayne x reader#fem reader#gn reader#male reader
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Beats Me - 7: Emails I Can’t Send
ft. Kim Minju
Word Count: 10k+
The first few minutes of your meeting are spent by Yeji and Yuna to catch up on life.
You sit by the side, detached from the conversation as you sip on the latte (what did they put in this thing? It’s so damn good). They relive some highschool memories, ask each other what they’ve been studying—the usual stuff. The croissants at the counter look really good, and you’re wondering if they’ll taste as good as they look. Maybe you should buy one later.
Yuna reminds you of Ryujin, only if Ryujin looked friendlier and less intimidating upon first glance. Her voice is distinct, her laugh even more so as she does that thing where she moves her feet like she’s running while she doubles over. Her eyes stay focused on her senior who—for the first time since you’ve seen her—is smiling. Yeji’s lanky fingers stay affixed to the straw, moving every now and then to disturb the ice as she stirs the drink. The coffee swirling in milk leaves light brown streaks against the side of her glass, creating these streaky patterns that look like they probably belong on an art piece. There are some details in her life that she briefly touches on but never delves into, probably because you’re there next to her.
Then it’s finally time. You’re dragged back into the conversation when Yeji says, “So you want to join the band?” and suddenly the cat that’s situated just outside the glass door doesn’t have your attention. Yea. Been looking for a chance to play, is Yuna’s reply, I saw you guys play at that bar the other time. You guys were great.
Eunbi should be here. She would’ve been ecstatic to hear that.
Yeji nods her head, stirring her drink idly as she silently looks at her junior. You hope that Yuna’s stratagem to enter isn’t just flattery. A sinking feeling tells you that it just might be, judging from the way she’s shifting under the gaze of her senior.
“Remind me Yuna: how many years have you played the saxophone for?” Yeji inquires. Yuna’s response is quick, almost rehearsed—five years now. Never stopped playing for a single moment in my life—and Yeji seems rather pleased by it. Yuna sips on her grapefruit ade, casting a glance your way as Yeji drums her nails against the table. You shoot the younger girl a reassuring smile, and hopefully she gets the message that she’s doing great in your books.
Then Yeji unfolds her arms, taps a nail before your crossed arms that rest on the table to get your attention. The same nail points towards Yuna, and its owner simply gestures with her chin. You get what she wants you to do, though you would’ve appreciated it if she’d just told you what she wanted, and you clear your throat while sitting up a little straighter.
“Um… Yeji kinda has me here to… Talk about my experience.” You internally cringe at your opening statement. What is this? An alumni sharing session? you chide yourself, all while you’re continuing on to whatever it is you have to say, “When you join this band, do expect yourself to be pushed a little. The hours aren’t all that taxing, but you gotta be able to… You know, strike that work life balance, as they say.”
And that’s just about all you have to say. Yeji neither smiles nor glares at you, only giving the smallest of nods as she focuses her attention on her junior. “If we give you a chart, you better learn it by heart by next practice. If we have a gig, practice will get more intensive. There’s a lot of things you need to be able to do Yuna. You can’t just think that you’re up to it; you have to be sure that you can shoulder all of these responsibilities.”
She’s making this sound like military recruitment, you’re thinking. Yuna’s definitely feeling a slight shift in atmosphere, and she’s fiddling with her glass as she stares straight into Yeji’s eyes. If you’re being honest: Yeji is definitely exaggerating the rigor of the band, and it’s probably scaring the poor girl. Your guitarist’s gaze isn’t at its peak intensity, but it’s enough to make Yuna purse her lips in silence, her smile fading from her face. Yeji greets her junior’s silence with a grim expression.
“So. Let me ask you again.” This time, Yeji’s tone is the furthest thing from gentle. “Are you ready to join us?”
Yuna stares at the melting ice in her glass. She takes a sip of her coffee, lets it sit in her mouth for a bit, and then swallows. “I’ll… I’ll text you when I’ve made up my mind.”
And all at once, it feels like all the happiness in the world has been sapped out of this cafe. Yeji stands up, leaving the rest of her latte untouched as she shoulders her bag and pushes in her chair.
“I’ll pay you for the latte,” she says, albeit a bit too nonchalantly after she’d single handedly brought down the mood. “Text me how much it costs, then text me again once you’re sure that you want in.”
She doesn’t even wait for you, doesn’t even look at you; she just turns on her heel and leaves. And for a moment, you sit there in awkward silence with Shin Yuna. You can’t help but feel bad for the poor girl who’d just been subjected to unwarranted coldness; and you want to comfort her, but you don’t know how. With a sigh, you take the straw out of your cup, bring the glass to your mouth and down the rest of your latte. Yuna’s eyes stayed trained on her own latte, which was close to untouched. She watches as a single drop of condensation rolls down the side of the glass, landing on her coaster and getting absorbed into the material.
“The band’s… Not as bad as she makes it sound,” you pipe, pausing for a brief moment to consider your words carefully. “Yeji tends to be a little… Mean sometimes.” Now that she has her eyes on you, you can’t help but feel a little shifty in your seat. She’s the type of girl that turns heads when she walks down the street, the type of girl that could probably get scouted by a model agency just by standing at a bus stop and looking at her phone. Not that her gaze is piercing or anything, but it’s just that she’s a little too breathtaking to make you feel okay sitting opposite her in a one on one. “Don’t think too much about it. I think you’ll make a great fit in the band.”
And then you decide to leave. It’s with great embarrassment that you state that you should take your leave, and it’s with great clumsiness and lack of grace that you stand up, bump your knee against the table, mutter a small and push your chair in before making a beeline for the door. The bell on the door chimes as you pull the door open, and it chimes again when you step out, and again when you close the door shut behind you—almost like it was laughing at you. So much for not being awkward.
“Thought you’d stay in there for a little longer.”
Hearing Yeji’s voice makes you jump, and you turn to find her petting the cat at the windowsill of the cafe. She isn’t even looking at you, not even a glance in your direction as you walk up to her and stop just before her.
“What the hell was that in there?” you can’t help but question. “You make us sound like we’re a fucking concentration camp while simultaneously making her feel like shit. How the fuck do you even do that?”
She gives the cat one last scratch between the ears, and the feline purrs under her touch. She rises from her squatting position and looks you in the eye. “That’s why I brought you here: to make her feel better.” She lets that linger in the air for a bit. “Okay. I’m going home.”
And she walks right past you like you aren’t going to be traveling in the same direction as her. A grunt of frustration slips out of your lips as you turn and catch up with her, matching her pace step for step.
“Did you seriously think,” you ask as you match her stride, “that a small ‘it’s alright’ from me would be enough to make her join?”
“Yep.”
“You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“Same goes for you.”
“What?”
The two of you stop at the traffic light, and she takes the time to adjust her hair over her shoulder and crack her neck like there isn’t someone talking to her on her immediate left. At this point, you are as good as a ghost to her.
“Why can’t you just be nice for once?” you don’t bother hiding the aggression in your tone, nor did you ever intend on doing so. “Is it really that hard? Do we have to go through a trial to earn your kindness?”
The light turns green and she puts away her phone. “I’m only nice to the people I trust, and neither you nor Yuna fall into that category.”
You bite your tongue, and you stay where you are as she walks across the road. She doesn’t look back, and you never expected her to. This conversation is hardly worth your time and emotional battery. You’re better off talking to some moss ball behind a dumpster, and the silence that you’ll receive is more welcoming than anything Hwang Yeji will ever say.
And so you walk elsewither from where she’s going and you just walk. You know for a fact that there’s no point in fuming over her behavior, and there’s definitely no point in figuring out how to get to her. Instead, you walk down a stretch of shops, letting your eyes wander across the various items that are being displayed at the windows: the jewelry, the clothes, the facial products, the bags, the—
Someone calls your name, and her voice is all too familiar. You’ve heard it just recently, over the phone with club music blaring over her voice. So yeah: you don’t need to turn to know who's made you stop in your tracks, but you do just because you need to see it to believe it
Kim Minju looks dazzling in her outfit:a set of black and short shorts that cover up the skin that’s exposed beneath the shirt-dress she wears. The lime green knitted Prada bag she has in her hands is a little bit jarring, a tad out of place on her monochrome outfit, and you guess that she probably grabbed it in a rush to get out of the house. Still: it looks like a purposeful mismatch, and perhaps your sense of fashion is just so bland that you simply just can’t appreciate the complexity of her outfit.
“Hey,” she greets—a mix of shock and surprise and glee on her face as she takes small steps towards you. It isn’t that big of a distance to cross, and she’s right in front of you in two-to-three small steps. She stops for a moment, lets her eyes wander across your face for a bit. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“Same goes for you,” you tell her. “Thought we’d just rub shoulders in the club and call it a day.”
Minju giggles, fidgets a little with the strap of her bag that sits nicely on her small shoulder. “You uh… you going somewhere?”
“Well um…” it’s hard to phrase what exactly it is you’re doing right now, because: a) you don’t exactly have a set location in mind and; b) you don’t know how to tell her that you were going away from somewhere that you were going to just now—ugh, it’s confusing to even think about. In the name of reducing the complications of your explanation, you opt for the best response you can possibly give at the moment: “No. Not really. How about you?”.
It’s not a lie; it’s half of the truth… Sort of? Ah fuck, why bother fretting over it?
She smiles, a toothless one where the corner of her lips gets tugged up by a set of invisible strings. It’s a charming little smile, and you have to admit that you love seeing the way it makes her eyes glimmer a little. “I just met my groupmates, and before you ask: it was a horrible session.”
You chuckle. “My condolences.” You rub your palms against your jeans as you speak, “must suck to be the smartest person in the group.”
She’s consistently been the brightest person in the room, perfect GPA, Valedictorian and everything. Sure: she already stands out because of her looks, but her smarts make her the whole package deal. The whole reason you met her in the first place was because you were failing Chemistry so badly in your first year that the teacher had to get her and her straight-As to step in and tutor you. She did a pretty good job, pulled your marks up from an E to a B and kept it there.
“Oh shut up,” she sighs, though the smile on her face never fades, “you know I hate it when you say shit like that.”
“Do you? Could’ve sworn that you lived off compliments back then.”
She clicks her tongue in annoyance, slaps your shoulder with the back of her hand. She hasn’t changed one bit. “Fuck you. You always were too damn cheeky.”
You shrug in response. She pushes back a strand of hair.
“You wanna grab a coffee?” Her question is one you’ve expected from the moment you bumped into her.
“I just had a latte, but I wouldn’t mind getting a Croissant.”
***
“You were one mark away from an A—this close to breaking your B streak.”
“It was an A in technicality. Careless mistakes that fuck me over don’t count, Minju.”
“Tell that to the Chemistry department then.”
“I think they would've dunked me in a vat of acid.”
“What type of Acid? Can you still remember which ones can melt skin off bone?”
“Welcome back Little Miss know-it-all.”
“The information will save you one day, mark my words.”
“Well I doubt I’ll ever come into contact with skin-melting Chemicals any time soon.”
“Don’t jinx yourself.”
“Hey, don’t tell me that when you were the one who was dubbed ‘bearer of bad news’.”
“It’s not my fault that I always have to relay the bad news to the class! I was the fucking class president!”
“Oh right.”
“Oh right. You sound so stupid.”
“Says the one giving me a lecture.”
“I’d hardly constitute this as a lecture.”
“Look at you using big words.”
“I’m going to throw this fucking coffee at you.”
“It’s a good latte. I wouldn’t recommend you wasting your money like that.”
“You’re a child.”
“Aren’t we all young at heart?”
“Young at heart is one thing. Immaturity is another.”
“I’d argue that you’re the immature one here.”
“Says the one who’s always getting himself involved in some shit every other day.”
“I wouldn’t blame that on my immaturity.”
“So you do admit that you’re immature.”
“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth.”
“It’s not my fault that you say stupid things.”
“But it’s you that uses my stupid things to… Fuck. That won’t sound right.”
“Did you just lose your train of thought mid sentence?”
“I was running what I was about to say through my head.”
“You do that while you speak? You’re so weird.”
“Oh so you’d rather me spit out nonsense all the time?”
“Yea, so I can insult you over it.”
“Ugh. You’re so kind Minju.”
“Thank you. I pride myself with my heart of gold.”
“The same one that made you a pushover with your ex?”
“We both know that he manipulated me.”
“And you kept making excuses with him because you refused to see the bad in him.”
“Okay, I admit that that was a bit of a misplay on my end.”
“You dated him for two years.”
“I didn’t want to be lonely, okay? Everyone in the damn friend group was dating, I felt left out!”
“But we were in healthy relationships. Yours looked like the physical embodiment of type two diabetes.”
“Oh. So you’d consider your relationship with Kim Chaewon a healthy one?”
“It was till… You know.”
The silence that follows is deafening, and Minju’s smile fades.
“Shit. I went a little overboard with that one,” how apologetic she sounded made you feel bad. Not that you ever intended to be a wet blanket, but the hesitance in your voice must have killed the mood or something. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
You waved it off. “All jokes,” you assure her with a forced smile. “Nothing was or has been taken to heart. I promise.”
She purses her lips, and when she parts them, they make a small smack. You take a moment to take another stab at your croissant and send another bit into your mouth. And yes: it does taste as good as it looks.
“How are things with you and her anyway?” She asks, setting down her half-full glass of latte. “Are you guys doing alright? Talking now?”
You imagine the look of shock on her face when you tell her that you made out with your ex and fucked her after you took her home, and make the executive decision to skip the details and give her a more vague (and untrue) answer: “We’re uh… Reconciling I guess.”
She nods, and you can’t tell if it’s one of approval or one of disappointment. She’d been the number one supporter of your relationship with Chaewon; imagine her shock when you told her one fine morning over the phone that the two of you had broken up.
“Forgive me for continuing on this subject, but,” the addition of that but really spoke volumes of how she wasn’t gonna let you interject, even if you really wanted to just stop talking about it. She’s not one to be self-centred, but when she has something to say, you have a guaranteed earnings if you bet on the fact that she’ll get it out one way or another. You always let her get away with it, only because you have a bit of a soft spot for her, and she has a bit of a soft spot for you too—you did spend a large amount of time in your first year of highschool in the library with her after all. “I always thought that you and Chaewon would be, you know, a ‘forever couple’.”
“Well I’m sorry we ruined your drama fantasies,” you reply, trying to bring the conversation back to the light-hearted talk it was just a couple of minutes ago. “Some things just don’t work out in the end—the relationship was just one of those things.”
This time, you decode her nod as one of understanding and sympathy. “Well… As long as you’re okay now.” she rolls her straw between her forefinger and thumb, watching as it twists left and right in her fingers and disturbs the latte before her. “You seem to be doing well with your whole band gig and all.”
“You could say that.” You set down your fork and dab the corners of your mouth with a napkin while you swallow the rest of your croissant. “Chaewon and I will learn to… Coexist eventually. I hope so at least.”
“You guys better sort it out,” she muses. “I doubt I can keep baby-sitting her at the club for much longer. I have a life too, you know?”
“I feel like that’s more of a problem for her to settle than us.” you’re barely hiding the disdain in your voice as you stare at crumbs that are left on your plate. “It’s not my problem if she gets drunk. She made the choice to go drinking herself.”
“But you made it your problem just a day ago,” Minju points out.
“Only because it was the only way to get her out of that damn club.”
“You could’ve chosen not to come.”
“And leave you guys to deal with her?”
“It was me and Eunbi. We could’ve dragged her out.”
“But—“
“Just admit that you actually cared. You and I both know that you’re too much of a fucking sweetheart to ever let someone struggle when you can help.”
And she stumps you with that one, because you don’t know how to reply to that. Is that a compliment or an insult? Frankly, you didn’t know, but you do know that you’re surprised by the fact that anyone can ever use the word sweetheart in such an aggressive manner. It’s like telling someone you love their outfit before punching them in the face.
Okay, maybe not that extreme… But you get the gist.
“Maybe I did have a soft spot for her,” you mused. It’s half self-realisation, half-reply. “But even so: you guys would go through all nine circles of hell just to get her up and out of the club.”
Minju draws her lips into a thin line. She lifts her straw to her mouth, lets it hover just in front of her lips for a bit, then places the glass back down on the table heavily. A small, substantial thump sends a small tremor through the table. She stares into her glass. “What even happened when you took her home anyway?”
You shrug and put down your fork to wipe your mouth—actions that mask the fact that you want to cringe at yourself over what happened. You’ve done a lot of lying today (what would your mother say?), and you’re pretty sure that all of this will come back and bite you in the ass some day. But for now, you’d like to save yourself some embarrassment as you say, “Helped her with her hangover. Gave her a meal. Then she left.”
Minju looks at you for a moment. Then she sighs and shakes her head.
“You’re too kind for your own good,” she mutters. Her fingers stay wrapped around her glass as she speaks, beads of condensation slowly running down the clear walls of her cup and sliding down her knuckles. She raises her head, just enough to establish eye contact with you. “Then again: your soft little heart was the reason I had a crush on you.”
Okay. She skipped a lot of ground there.
You blink. You blink again. She stares straight into your eyes throughout—doesn’t break eye contact or anything. Not that you didn’t take her seriously, but just that you were a little… Well, stunned.
“Bottom line: you care about her. Don’t let her manipulate you okay?” Minju tells you, finally raising the star to her mouth and taking a nice long sip from her latte. When the straw is released from between her lips, she smacks her lips in satisfaction and leans back in her seat. You’re still staring if anyone’s asking, and yes: you are indeed thinking, what the fuck?
Minju shoots you a look of disdain. “What?” she asks as she straightens the collar of her shirt dress. “Why are you looking at me like that? Cut it out.”
Okay: aside from the fact that you’re shocked by the fact that she isn’t addressing the elephant in the room (the one that she placed there by her damn self), you’re reeling over the fact that she’s just casually dropped this hell-of-a piece of news on you like it was just an update on life or something; oh I used to like, you know, see you more than just a friend, but no biggie.
You blink. You blink again. She grabs the straw and tosses it out of the glass, gulps the rest of her latte in a single swallow and wipes her lips with the back of her hand.
“If you’re wondering if the feelings are still there, the answer is no,” she tells you, picking up a napkin to clean up the corners of her mouth. “The keyword was had you big dummy. Stop thinking so much about it. You look stupid.”
The faculties to reply return to you, but you can’t do much but sputter a very confused wha? as Minju examines her nails for a bit. She smirks, then grabs her bag and rises from her seat.
“If my news is killing you that bad, why don’t we talk about it over a nice dinner?”
***
True to her word, she does open up about everything over the course of the meal, albeit after a couple of glasses of wine.
“You were so cute and so damn loveable,” she muses, unashamed as she pours herself another glass. She took you to some nice restaurant a few streets away, and you’re kinda regretting your decision to eat that croissant for tea because fuck does the food here taste good. Minju settles into her seat, glass in hand as she stares at the scarlet liquid. “You bought me dark chocolate on my period, got me a snack after we had a session because I was hungry… You’re pretty fucking handsome too, you know that?”
All of this is, of course, news to you, and you’re struggling to internalise the fact that she would ever think about you in such a way. Your own wine glass has remained full for the entire duration of your meal, and you choose this time to take a sip to help you process all of… Well, this.
“So… How long did you, you know, like me?” you can’t help but ask. Not that it was the first question on your mind or anything, but more of the fact that you needed to say something to prevent this conversation from descending into awkward silence. Comfortable was the last word you’d use to describe how you feel.
“Huh…” Minju mutters. She swirls her glass for a bit. She takes a sip, swirls more. Her gaze turns inwards and her mouth moves in a soundless count. “If you don’t count the summer break where I figured out that I wanted nothing more but to kiss you? About a year and a half.”
You do the maths in your head and come to an epiphany. Minju beats you to it and verbalises your thoughts: yea, yea… I liked you while you were dating Chaewon, which means that I liked you when I was dating that deadbeat baseball player, which meant I was unfaithful by technicality, but I stuck with that sick fuck to try and make you jealous.
Frankly, you’re not too sure why you are being thrown into emotional situations with people of your past over the course of the last two days. You want this to be some sort of dream, and you want, so badly, for Minju to burst out laughing and hit you with a, this was all a joke! I just wanted you to accompany me for dinner, that’s all, and call it a day. Maybe you two could get ice cream afterwards, laugh this silly prank off on a bench somewhere and then bid farewell for the night. But judging from the way Minju stares solemnly at her plate, you can pretty much infer with full confidence that she means every word she says. Even as she chews her steak slowly, you can feel her lingering on some thoughts that she won’t verbalise—not now at least. Maybe she’ll text you about it a couple weeks for months down the road, and all of this will just resurface for, like, a day or two at most. Bottom line: she’s pretty serious about everything she just said, and she’ll most likely remind you of this conversation in this nice restaurant that you can never come back to again. The food is nice but it's nowhere in your tax bracket.
“So uh,” Minju brings your attention back to her. She leaves you hanging for a bit as she pokes a cherry tomato with her fork and sends it into her mouth. You hear a soft crunch as she chews, and you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable with the presented silence that follows. She dabs the corners of her lips with a napkin. She swallows. “About what happened with Chaewon after you took her to your place: did you leave out the part where you fucked her in the ass on purpose? Or did she drug you and you forgot everything?”
And it feels like time freezes as she picks up her wine glass and gulps down the rest of the scarlet liquid in there. When she looks at you with those piercing, knowing eyes, you wonder how much she knows about you and Chaewon; what does she know and what are the details she has sitting in some locker in the corners of her mind.
“Chaewon has a pretty big mouth you know,” Minju remarks, a small—almost mocking—pout on her lips as she plays with the vegetables on her plate. “She tells me just about anything and everything that goes on in her life, just saying.”
So that’s enough to tell you that she knows more than she should. You wonder if there are any other people Chaewon runs her mouth to.
“If you’re gonna call me a loser, just do it,” you mutter. You suddenly find the urge to down the rest of your wind irresistible. You act on your impulse, and you grimace a little as the alcohol burns your throat on the way down. It’s probably not recommended to consume liquor the way you are drinking it right now, but you couldn’t care less at this point. You kind of need this drink right now. This day has been full of unexpected things: unexpected meetings to unexpected feelings to god knows what else is on its way. “But before you say anything, she started it. I was the victim.”
Minju chuckles. You don;t really find anything about this entertaining right now, but there will certainly be an element of humour to this conversation that you will probably discover after some hindsight. Minju sets down her cutlery and folds her arms. “I understand”, she tells you, making sure to hold your gaze as she rests her cheek in her palm. “Trust me. Calling you a loser is, like, the 2nd thing on my mind right now.”
“And what’s the first?”
She looks left, then right, then leans in a little. “Was the sex good?”
Honestly, you shouldn’t be shocked. She’s always been a bit cheeky in nature, a little bit lickerish and maybe a little indecent. You’ve seen it, heard it, known it for the longest time—yet you can’t stop yourself from raising both eyebrows when she drops the question on you. MAybe it’s the lack of hesitance; the question coming right at you like a fastball after you gave her your end of the situation. It’s a little devious: the way she just gives it to you straight without any room for silence and pondering. You’ll give her that.
“I mean,” she continues, not even giving you time to even try and rationalise the question. “I imagine that her pussy’s already tight as fuck. Her ass? God I can only imagine what that was like for you.”
Now it’s getting a little confusing. The lines between wry and genuine interest are being blurred here, and you’re not even sure if this is really a conversation you’re having with her right now. Her bluntness and lack of consideration towards you is a little appalling given her remorse in the cafe. Maybe it’s the wine. Yea, it’s probably the wine…
“What the fuck?” Is all you can manage as you affix your gaze on her with a look of shock that could probably win you an award if this was a movie. Minju pushes back some hair, fingers deftly tucking them behind her ear as she fixes you with a look. You have no idea where this conversation is going, and you really, really hope that she doesn’t continue on this line of talk. Of course, you have a bad track record of getting what you wish for.
Minju leans in even more, gets even closer. You’re not sure if you should move or do anything at this juncture. She cocks her head a little, smirks.
“Wanna find out if I’m a better fuck then her?”
***
Why did you follow her back to her apartment? You don’t even know. Best guess: you weren’t really thinking after she spoke and just went with it. Or maybe: you might have looked at her all weird and somehow ended up agreeing (she’s a sweet talker and you certainly wouldn’t put it past her). There are about ten possibilities that you can think of—eleven if you added the one that just formulated in your brain about a second ago—all of which are equally confusing and hard to fathom. It’ll take some time and probably a cup of coffee or two to figure out.
But focus up: there are a lot more pressing matters right now, matters like the fact that her lips are firmly pressed against yours while your back is against the closed and locked door of her apartment. Frankly, you don’t even know how the hell you two got locked in this kiss; could’ve sworn the two of you were just talking at the restaurant a couple of minutes ago. Everything’s a little hazy, and it’s a little worrying considering that you only had one or two… Maybe three? Yea, probably three… Let’s just say there was a couple more glasses of wine after she asked if you if she could potentially be a better fuck, and here you are now. It seems like your relationship with alcohol and women all lead to the same destination. It’s a problem for sure, but you can settle that later.
There’s a rather loud smack as she removes her lips from yours—for air of course. Gazing deep into your eyes, she smiles as she tells you, god I’ve always wanted to do that, before she re-establishes the connection of lips. The kiss is aggressive: nothing short of fervent and definitely not holding back on the restraint. If there was a way to properly kiss someone, Kim Minju was certainly taking it up another step. Her tongue pokes through your lips, invades past your teeth and pushes itself deep into your mouth till it dances with yours. It’s starting to get a little messy, a little more raunchy and, uh… Well—you get the gist. Your brain’s certainly not functioning the way it should be.
Are you drunk? Probably not.
She starts to pull you by the shirt—away from the door and towards the living room. Her place is pretty big, and there's enough space for the two of you to stumble and fumble around till you find a flat surface that you can proper her up on and spread her legs. The surface in question is a table. It’s probably her dining table, and it creaks as Minju undoes the clasp of her sheer shorts that really shouldn’t be classified as shorts in any world. The article of clothing comes off together with your jeans, and they’re both tossed aside before your hands are on her hips and pulling her towards you. Her ass slides over the wood, hissing as her skin drags along a small distance so that she can grip your face in her palms and crash her lips against yours. You close your eyes, enjoy the feel of her warm body pressing against yours while those gentle hands sink fingers into the flesh of your cheeks. A dark part of you takes a little pleasure in the pain.
“Fuck.” You love the lilt in her voice after she breaks the kiss. “I see why Chaewon likes to kiss you now,” she lets her hands roam across your face, brushing away the bits of your hair that fall in front of your eyes, almost as if she wants you to see her and only her. “You kiss so well. Feels like I’m kissing a marshmallow with lips.”
“Do I even want to know how you came up with that analogy?” you question. She grins.
“Just trust it. I did get a higher score than you in just about every subject except music.”
You chuckle. She goes in for a kiss; you make a beeline for the column of milky skin at her neck, savour the sharp inhale that sucks air through her teeth and sounds like more of a hiss. You kiss her jaw, trail it up to her neck then back down to her collarbone. Every touch of your lips on her skin makes her sigh.
“Try not to mark me where people can see,” she whispers. “There’s only so much skin that makeup can cover without ruining my outfits, and foundation is really fucking expensive these days.”
(Now there’s the debate of whether that was a challenge or a precautionary measure. She’s always been a bit of a cheeky one: trying people on and giggling as she does so. You’ve been the victim of her antics before, but it’s kind of hard to deduce whether she’s telling you, don’t do it or inviting you to leave hickeys all over her neck and wherever you could get your lips on.)
“And if I do?” you can’t help but ask. Minju chuckles and pushes you away by your shoulders.
“Don’t.” She’s firm when she says it, almost like she’s chiding you for ever considering it. For a moment, you look each other in the eye as your breaths poke holes through the silence. It’s a little chilling yet a little thrilling, and you can’t help but take in the way she looks in the dim light of the night. In the midst of stumbling in, neither of you ever considered turning on the lights. She’s painted in soft strokes of moonlight, eyes shimmering in the gentle glow of night. Beautiful. She’s always been so beautiful, but never this beautiful. “I know you want to, but don’t,” she reiterates. You’re a little disappointed, but there are, of course, other ways to leave your mark on her.
And so your hand snakes down and finds its way between her parted legs. Your other hand slithers around that small waist, and it holds her in place as your fingers press against the fabric of her panties. In your arms, she tenses—bristles as you start to feel the outline of her lips against your fingertips. You increase the pressure against her heat. Minju tilts her head back and moans.
Fuck. You don’t think you’ve ever heard such a sound: angelically filthy, airy and soft. It’s already hard enough to grasp the concept of her, one of your closest friends that you haven’t seen in a few good years or so, propped up on her own dining table while you trace the outline of her pussy through her panties and leave her squirming atop the wooden surface. Add the small choked up cries she’s making into the mix and by God do you have a recipe for a haze. Where to begin? This situation shouldn’t be real at all; none of this should be real, this should be a dream. This heat against your fingers. The sight of her mouth parted and her body twitching with each stroke of your fingers. The very realisation that this is as real as it gets, and it’s unfolding right before you by the second.
“Why are you so fucking wet?” you ask, noting the way she shudders as you let your finger hover over the base of her opening for a bit. Her thighs—pale skin painted in the lightest shades of moonlight—twitch in anticipation, almost as if the blood in her veins is loading up inside there and would shoot forward the moment you start moving again. She can’t predict what you’re gonna do next, and it’s killing her in a way that brings you this sick satisfaction. Minju whimpers; you chuckle. “Do you really want it this bad Minju? Has no one touched you like this before?”
(Her bottom lip quivers as she struggles to compose herself. She breathes: raspy and staccato. Strands of hair hang in front of her face, the same one that has this pleading look superimposed over bratty frustration. It’s hot, really satisfying and really challenging you take some liberties with her. Sure: it’d be really fun to just stuff her full of cock and just have your way with her right here and now, but where’s the fun in that? You’ve known her as this smart, preppy girl who’s always gotten what she wants because she’s smart and rich. You can't remember the last time you saw her fail. Maybe she did face a bit of a setback when she was starting out in university, but as far as you’re concerned, she’s in need of a bit of humbling.)
It’s all enough to drive anyone mad really. So you can’t really blame her when she cries oh god just fuck me already! at a volume that would probably get her a noise complaint from one of her neighbours. It’s a little jarring, and it makes you stop and look at her for a second or two. She looks back at you, giving you those fuck me eyes that you didn’t know she was capable of as she starts to bite down on her lower lip.
With that face and that aura, she—whether unwittingly or not—painfully reminds you of Chaewon. That same bratty persona mixed with that undeniable look of need—it’s killing you to look her in the eye a she starts to grind herself against your fingers, pleading you to get on with it—please, please, please just strip me and fuck me and make me your good little toy—while she fixes you with that pleading look. Her doleful eyes coax you, and it feels dangerous to even look into them, let alone gaze into them as pulls you closer with her legs and grabs your shaft through your underwear.
“Tease me all you want later,” she squeezes your cock—sweet, sinful pleasure. Those weapons of a pair of eyes slice into the deepest depths of your mind, appealing to the darker part of you to let loose and take control. She wants it, needs it more than anything else right now. “You can finger me, eat me, whatever… Just put this fucking cock inside of me and make me scream before you do anything else.”
She’s given you a list of priorities, and they really speak volumes of her personality. Funnily enough, it’s pretty in line with her character: goal oriented and focused on that success rather than the process. You wonder what would happen if you refused to give her that final goal she so desperately craves; what it could do and to what extent would it break her. You take some time to consider this as you slip your hands into the spaces between the upper buttons of her shirt.
“Minju.” You call her name out of politeness in wake of what you’re about to ask her. “How much was this shirt?”
The glint in her eye when she catches your implicit message is enthralling. She pushes her bottom lip behind her front teeth; fixes you with this look that tells you that she's' about to say something that’s gonna satisfy your desires just because she can and she gets off on it.
“It’s Prada,” she tells you. “But I can always get another.”
You grin, and with more strength than intended, you pull against the fabric of the shirt. Unfortunate buttons go flying as the fabric parts forcefully like velcro ripping apart. Nothing tears (surprisingly), but the shirt is most definitely unwearable for a while. You hope she knows how to sow.
She gasps when the cold air of her apartment suddenly hits her skin. You can’t really blame her — it all comes in a rush after she is stripped from her sole piece of clothing. She takes a moment to assess the damage done to her clothes. Her eyes wander along the naked strip of fabric her shirt buttons once called home. Then she looks at you, smirks.
“Hot,” she muses, lowering herself down till she’s on her elbows. “But I think you can do better than that.”
You like a good challenge. And with not too much kindness in your voice, you tell her to get rid of the rest of her clothing. There’s a smouldering look in her eye, and a smirk on her face as she tosses her hair out of her face. Then while she holds your gaze, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them down — keeps going till there somewhere far enough down those long, creamy legs for her to kick them aside.
“That was a limited edition piece, can’t have you tearing that,” she explains, looking at the freshly discarded article of clothing. “My bra though? I got it at a convenience store in Japan. Do your worst.”
The bra doesn’t survive. It’s a shame really… It looked kinda nice.
And basking in your gaze is a very naked Kim Minju, her skin practically glowing on top of her table as she looks up at you with those eyes of want. You take a moment – admire the supple curves in all the right places and the way her skin seems to ripple a little as she shudders. Three’s no doubt in your mind that the surface she has her back against is cold as hell, but Fuck… this probably was the best place to have her like this – she looks like a fucking meal.
“You know,” you whisper, your index finger roaming up her body – starting from the base of her belly button and making its way up an imaginary line that you’ve drawn on her body. “You’re kinda fucking perfect.”
She chortles. “Um… Contradictory much?”
“Spare me the lesson,” you mutter, cupping her cheek firmly yet tenderly. You have no idea what this feeling in your chest is right now, but you do know that it’s gonna take you down a path you never explored before. “Now I just wanna make a mess out of you.”
You don’t wait for a reply. Heck, you don’t even give her time to craft a reply. No teasing, no testing the waters; you just get your cock in your hand, line it up with her slit and pump yourself into her for the first time.
And even though she has this look of offence on her face, you know that this is probably the hottest thing she’s ever experienced. It’s a non-verbal statement that tells you that: her eyes burn with a heat you often see in Chaewon when she’s just being a downright bitch, yet her lips part and her head tilts back to let a moan be drawn out from the deepest parts of her. You don’t quite know how you’re processing these cues with the novel sensation of her hot cunt around your cock (it squeezes and pulses at just the right places that make you twitch inside her and it’s like… So fucking hot in there) that welcomes you into the depths of the woman beneath you. Every little thing is just hitting like a fucking sledge hammer now. You can feel her heat around you, burning like fire in this cold apartment. Alcohol must really be setting in.
Minju takes a moment to collect herself, and after she does, she looks at you to send another non-verbal cue your way.
This one means fuck me.
This whole situation is far from sophisticated; a little more filthy than you care to admit. It’s not what you’re used to with the other women you’ve been with. Eunbi likes teasing, Ryujin likes to play around a little; Karina is just downright submissive, Yeji a little more subservient than she lets on; Chaewon is… well, Chaewon – bratty and really whiny when she fucks.
But Minju? This is a whole new chapter for you.
First impressions tell you that she’s just downright needy; a little bratty like Chaewon as she starts to whine a little while you start pumping in and out of her slick heat. Her legs lock around your waist, feet crossed behind your back. She pulls you in each time you thrust into her – pulls you deeper into her warmth and moans a little louder when you hit the right spot. You match her speed, and soon you're thrusting her with firm, fast strokes. It makes her throw back her head for a bit, a cry leaving her straining throat as she sets rolls with this tempo.
Her torso remains supported on her elbows, her small breasts that sit proudly atop her chest bouncing with each smack of your crotch against hers. She realigns her gaze with yours. Her eyes stay wide open, gazing right into yours as she holds your attention with this debauched gaze that makes your mind fill with wild, wild thoughts. You’re fucking her on the table, but you’re thinking about what it’d be like to have her against the wall, against the counter, on her knees; riding you on her couch, jumping on your cock on her bed…
This woman is gonna fucking ruin you.
“Chaewon said that the dick was fucking good,” she’s quipping between her moans, and you know it’s taking considerable effort for her. She has to close her eyes when she speaks, and in doing so she frees you from her hypnotic gaze. “No that it’s actually filling me… I think she could be downplaying how good you feel.”
And you have to smirk. “You think so ?”
Her eyes snap open, traps you yet again. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you feel inside me?” she gasps. You have to admit that it sounds a bit more like she’s demanding you to figure out how good she feels right now/ ow fucking good your dick feels in my pussy? How–ngh… How good you fuck me?”
Emphasis on ‘fuck’ tells you that she likes this pace, this no-nonsense playing field that you’ve established from the moment you filled her for the first time. She never struck you as one to like it rough, someone who likes it when it kinda stings when you fill her. Then again, you didn’t expect her to hold feelings for you either, so you guess the world just has a bunch of mysteries that you have to unpack in your own time.
Currently, you’re just trying to unpack how fucking good she feels around you.
“You’re fucking filthy,” you hiss through your teeth. “Never knew Miss valedictorian liked being railed like this.”
She smiles through her pleasure – a half-curl upturn of the corners of her lips as she lets the sighs and gasps freely depart from her open lips. It would be a cute smile if it weren’t for the fact that you’re literally fucking her on the same surface she eats on. Not that she has any problem with it; it’s just kinda telling of how badly she wants you right now. Pretty hot honestly – feels a little dark but you like the fact that she just couldn’t wait and just found the nearest flat surface she could spread her legs for you on.
“I’ll let you in on something,” and it really looks like she’s pushing back moans in her throat. She isn’t very successful. Effort is commendable though. “As sweet as any girl looks, we all kinda like being fucked like a slut.”
You manage a chuckle. “And does that apply for you?”
You love the way her eyes gleam. She lets herself lie flat on her table.
“That’s for you to find out.”
And you understand why she’s laid herself across the table for you. It’s an invitation to her body, a request for you to touch the parts of her and hold her like she’s yours. She’s watching you intently, waiting to see what you’ll do while you keep pumping in and out of her. You respond by grabbing her shoulders, pulling her up straight till her chest flushes against yours. Her hands wrap around your neck, her breath in your ear.
“Come on you pussy,” she drawls. “I’m not Chaewon or Eunbi, so stop fucking me like you’d fuck them.”
Your hands find purchase in the firm flesh of her ass. Your fingers dig into the skin.
Then you’re fucking her – hard, fast. It takes her by surprise, by storm. Her gasp is strained, her voice louder in your ear now that she’s dug her chin into your shoulder. Her arms tense around your neck, her thighs tighten around your waist. You can feel her start to tremble as she struggles to keep herself upright. She holds you tighter, closer. She starts to moan more than she gasps. Her sighs turn to whines, her whines to cries and then to keening.
In a matter of seconds, she’s found herself lost in her own pleasure, willingly and blissfully letting herself slink beneath the steadily growing stream of perverse want and need that flows from her mouth. She doesn’t have any smart quips left in her, no lessons or lectures – just this burning ache for you and the meat between her legs. You can feel the throbbing in her pussy, hear the squelch of your cock sliding between her lips getting louder as you go faster. You want—so badly—to lose yourself in her warmth and her heat. You want nothing more than to just put your lips on hers and kiss her through this wave of passion you’re feeling.
So—against her wishes—you put your lips on her neck, starting sucking. You sense hesitation in her body, but it quickly fades and she tips her head to the side. She lets you have your way with her, relenting against you and letting you nibble on her skin as you piston yourself in and out of her.
“I hope you’re giving me something no other girl will experience,” she rasps. She’s shaking a little, her nails starting to dig into your back. “Fuck me like I’m the one that matters. I need it.”
You lift your lips off her neck. The skin is starting to change colour. “Minju,” you don’t know how you manage, but you just do. “You’re the best woman I’ll ever fuck.”
“Mhm?” she hums. It’s a little shaky and it’s high-key hot. “Is—mphm… is my pussy better than Chaewon’s?”
And there’s that common thread between her and your ex: that desire to know that they’re better than someone else. You’ll please her for tonight. “So much better.”
She quite literally twitches at that, reeling in the thought that she’s taking cock better than her friend ever would. “Ngh– am I tighter? Am I wetter?”
You move so that you can look her in the eye. “Shut up and let me fuck you, would you?”
The look in her eyes tells you that she’s proud of what she’s done. She lets her forehead press against yours. Her eyes close. “Okay… But only because I still kinda love you.”
How are you going to deal with her? With this?
You don’t. You dive back into the crook of her neck, lengthen your strokes into her. It’s all too much to handle right now. Too many emotions are in play; too many thoughts need attention. You just want her, no strings attached and no need to spout all this nonsense about love and wanting to be loved. You kinda hate her for it, so you fuck her harder. You don’t like that she’s bringing feelings into this like Chaewon, so you fuck her harder and harder till she’s almost crying.
She loves it, every second of it.
“Yes,yes,yes…” you can tell that she’s trying not to lose it all together, or maybe you’re just projecting. You can’t shake the feeling that your silence in response to her confession tells her that you’re gonna let her live this fantasy down right now. “Oh god you… Oh my fucking god.”
For long minutes, there’s nothing on your mind except her. You love the way she tenses and relaxes in your grasp, how she lets her body respond freely to your movements; the way her milky, smooth skin starts to bead with sweat, her hair sticking to her back; how her voice is kinda hoarse, how her lips claim your earlobe and she bites a little. As much as she’s frustrating, she’s entrancing. She’s hot, admittedly tighter than some of the girls you’ve fucked but also charming in her own way. Her moans aren’t the guttural type you get out of Karina or Eunbi, but more like a gentle yet kinda sordid exclamation of pleasure. Her breath is hot on your skin, a little hotter than you expect, but hot nonetheless. Her slim figure rocks against you, jolting when you get yourself nice and deep in her cunt, turning her into a nice bundle of nerves.
“I… Fuck… I’ve wanted this for so long,” she gasps. “But you’re here, actually here and… Fuck you’re just so fucking hot.”
And you know that’s her way of telling you that you’re better in real life than you ever will be in her wildest dreams. She’s turned on by the fact that you’re here, in the flesh and fucking her the way she likes it. Even though she surrenders to you, she’s gotten her way tonight. You’re fulfilling her desires just by being here, and your rock hard shaft drilling its way inside of her is really just a cherry on top.
(She’s kinda right: as sweet as she is, she likes being fucked like a slut.)
Even though it’s kinda her fault, Minju is your distraction, your break from it all. You give in: lose yourself in her smell, in her skin, in her flesh. You let yourself get absorbed in it all — her gasps, her cries; the way her pussy only gets tighter, the way her legs shake around you; the fire in your chest that drives your cock in and out of her cunt in firm, long strokes; the heat of her body against yours as she starts to tense in your grasp.
Then she’s cumming — a hot mess on her dining table as cock spears into her through her orgasm. Her walls clench around you, her nails claw at your back. She cries your name. She says she loves you over and over and over till the faculties of her speech give way and she goes a little slack in your arms. You revel in it, do your best to block out the parts that make you ache a little on the inside; fuck her through the wave of an orgasm she goes through and relish the feel of her tight pussy getting tighter and wetter. You don’t know how to put it into words, but all you can really say is that she’s fucking beautiful through it all – smutty art or maybe even straight up porn.
When you join her, you don’t even ask if you can cum in her; she’s gotten enough of her way tonight. With a final few pumps into her, you relent to the tingling in your shaft and bury yourself inside her. Your grunt is rather guttural, your load hot inside of her slick wet cunt. She sighs, almost as if she’s welcoming it into her body. You savour the moment. It’s a treat for yourself.
You stay like that for a bit — leaning against Minju and panting while you gather yourself again. She gently strokes your hair as she smiles at you, more than happy to keep you with her as you regain your bearings.
And just because she can, she kisses you on the cheek.
You can’t meet her gaze much longer. You turn your gaze downwards as you remove yourself from her pussy, watching as the mix of your juices flow out of her freshly-fucked cunt. She hums as it flows down from her slit.
“Forget what I said okay?” she requests, sounding remorseful as she takes your cheek in her hand. “You’re good at not taking things to heart, so do that for me, would you?”
You manage a small smile and nod.
Then she kisses you, softly.
“Thank you…” she breathes. “You just helped me delete some emails to you that I can never bring myself to send.”
***
You’re kinda in shambles to be honest.
Minju’s showering, which means that you have enough time to think about what your life has become. All these emotions are coming forth so suddenly, so quickly. You barely have time to process your school work and now this has come along and fucked you sideways. It makes your head hurt.
You decide to leave before she can get out of the shower. You can’t bear to see her again, but you do drop a text—Thanks for letting me crash. See you around—once you’re out of her apartment complex. You’re ashamed, but you were raised to know better than to leave without saying anything. But even though you do what you feel is right, something about what you’ve done doesn’t quite sit well with you.
And you’re in the park when the realisation hits. On the bench, you bury your head in your hands.
You’ve done to Minju what Chaewon did to you.
Had this one sitting in the drafts for quit some time. Realised I actually never posted it so here it is I guess. Happy New Year everyone! Have this unedited work as a gift while I work on another fic because I can.
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K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩
Scarily Observant:
You had always joked that Bakugo wasn’t the most romantic guy. He didn’t shower you with flowery compliments or grand gestures, but you knew better.
His love showed itself in quieter ways, ones that made your heart skip a beat when you realized just how much attention he paid to you.
It started small—too small to notice at first. Like how he always handed you the mug you liked best when y'all had coffee or how he seemed to know exactly where you left you keys before you even asked.
“Lucky guess,” he’d mutter when you pointed it out, but there was no mistaking the faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Bakugo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Wear the green sweater,” he said casually.
One day, you were running late for work, frantically searching through your closet. “Why is everything I want to wear in the laundry?” You groaned, yanking hangers back and forth.
You paused, turning to him in surprise. “The green one? You mean the one with the loose sleeves I got last year?”
Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know that?”
“Yeah. You always wear it when you’ve got long meetings,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He shrugged. “You fidget with the sleeves when you’re stressed. Look, just wear it and stop making me late, dumbass.”
“Don’t overthink it,” he’d grumble when you called him out, his ears tinged red.
Moments like that kept piling up. He remembered every little thing you told him, from how you liked your tea to the name of your favorite childhood toy.
Once, you casually mentioned a song you used to love but hadn’t heard in years. The next time y'all went on a drive, it was queued up in the playlist.
But the moment that truly floored came during a quiet evening at home. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through an old photo album your mother had sent over. Bakugo glanced over your shoulder, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.
“That’s the bracelet you lost, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing to a picture of you as a kid, wearing a simple silver bangle.
“You talked about it when we first started dating. Said your grandma gave it to you,” he replied, almost nonchalantly. Then, with a small, rare softness in his voice, he added, “It meant a lot to you.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you remember that? I barely even mentioned it!”
You turned to him, overwhelmed by the realization of how much he truly paid attention to you. “You’re scarily observant, you know that?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta remember all the stuff you keep forgetting.”
But deep down, you knew the truth: Bakugo’s sharp eyes weren’t just for battle or strategy. They were his way of showing love—by noticing, remembering, and cherishing every little thing about you.
FANFIC RECOMMENDATION:
Adult Bakugo x Female Reader
If the link does not work, use the username ᡣ𐭩
Wattpad: amkyor
#anime#bakugo x you#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#mha bakugou#mha fanfic idea#mha fanfiction
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imagine being logan’s controversially young girlfriend. like, controversially as in 19-early twenties… ugh i’m screaming MMMM
and nobody knows.
content warnings ;
size kink, age play, slight humiliation kink, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected piv, teasing, brief mention of thigh riding, spit play also not proof read i got lazy !!! sorryyyyyyy😭
nobody knows how you show up to his room late at night in just a little nightdress, when the x-mansion’s quiet — filled only with the soft snores of students slipping out from their room… nobody knows how he’ll open the door for you and you two will be at it crazy.
he’ll take you into his bed — let you cozy up into his big arms until you’re squirming into his lap because you just can’t handle the size difference between you two.
and you were just making it so damn hard to stay rational for logan. every shift, every breath against his skin was making him want you more and more: and sometimes he’d give in, sometimes the guilt would eat at him.
“you’re a goddamn kid, baby. you don’t know what you want, let alone need.” he’d grumble, hand squeezing your soft hips again as he thought to himself that you should be with someone your age. not some old and broken man. and you were pouting at him, reminding him that you were well over the age of a ‘kid’. that small pout of yours that he thought was adorable, that soft, pretty pout, now was going to be the end of him.
“doll, you gotta just understand you’re too young for me. you need—“ he was cut off suddenly by that small body of yours against his thigh, your hips against the thick muscle, driving his mind wild. he exhaled a low groan deep in his throat, his hand gripping your waist on instinct. and this is where he knew he’d lost it.
that single roll of your hips against his thigh made him grip you tighter, his hand on your soft waist holding you down on his lap. He was trying to control himself, trying to think but you were making it damn hard when you were grinding against him like that. “jesus, darlin’..” he’d groan, voice deep and husky. “careful, don’t wanna hurt ya..”
and it was ironic, how he was worried about hurting you right now. because if he’s already that concerned with just you grinding innocently on his thigh, imagine how worried he’d be when you ride him.
as soon as your small thighs were spread on either side of his thick ones, his hands would move down to hold them — gently lifting you up so you could hover just slightly above his aching length, before slowly letting you slide down to take it.
he’d feel you trembling from the big stretch: you were just so small and delicate — and he always felt like he was definitely going to break you. he’d murmur soft little things like: “c’mon baby.. i’ve got ya, got ya right on me— that’s it.. mhm..” into your ear, big roughed up hands running through your soft pretty hair gently; tucking the loose strands behind your ear, watching your face in pleasure.
he’d keep at it like that, just letting you move your hips against him for your pleasure — milking it out of him. until he’d notice your moans turning into little whines, your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut. he knew he’d found that sweet spot when he heard you gasp out how good it was, and god was that an accomplishment for him.
“ah, yeah. there, huh? that feel good, baby girl?” he’d groan, making sure you were alright as his hands would grip your hips tighter, trying to prevent himself from throwing all his self control out the window as he started to push his hips up to meet your now sloppy little bounces. “found your spot, hm? right here?”
you’d moan incoherently at this point, nodding desperately, head lulling against his neck as you’d mumble how close you were, feeling the heat in your belly burning up more as his rough hand found the soft flesh there — grabbing at it. “close, ain’t ya, doll?” he’d pant, feeling more desperate as you’d moan his name desperate for more — your back arching and hips bucking for more.
but he couldn’t have you finish without him, no.
“not yet, baby. gotta hold it.. just gimmie a few minutes..”
he’d curse under his breath to himself as he watched your thighs tremble from the denial. god you were too damn pretty right now. his body trembled as you whimpered and whined even more. he’d then suddenly pull out, making you gasp and leaving you empty, his breathing short and heavy. however his hands quickly went to your hips to flip you over. “on your belly, baby.” he’d pant, needing you in a new position.
and holy fuck would that be the most life changing position ever.
slipping into your gorgeous pussy from behind, letting his cock stretch it to the hilt, buried so deep you felt him all tangled up in your guts with each and every thrust. the type of fuck that had your eyes rolling back in an instant and your lips parting, little whimpers and babbles spilling outta it like they were all your pretty mouth knew.
he’d grab your chin too, tease you for it, make you look at your reflection in the mirror.
“ah, such a mess. look at ya, you see yourself? gettin’ fucked stupid by me, baby?” his rough voice would ask, keeping his hand there to make sure you looked at your own fucked out reflection — and also the catch the drool that had pooled and fell from your lips.
he always loved you like this. it was when you’d get the most messy, and where he could really humiliate you — tease you — and yet even praise you, leaning down and placing little kisses all over the side of your pretty face whenever he had the heart to.
until finally, he’d let you cum.
only after you’d begged so much though your head was getting foggy, till your small body was quivering under his big one to the point that it looked like you were gonna collapse. his rough fingers would snake down and prod at your swollen clit, giving it the attention it had lacked this whole time.
“mm, i ignored her this whole time, didn’ i baby?” he’d lean closer to your ear and ask, as if he didn’t already know the answer. he just loved seeing you struggle even more to form something other than your meaningless babbles. and only when you’d manage to get something other than that, would he let you cum — letting his fingers do the work on your clit as he just kept you nice and full and satisfied, like the pretty princess you were.
౨ৎ
#logan howlett#hugh jackman#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine xmen#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine
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also I think we gotta acknowledge that the "fickleness" of people means you can.... make up with someone and fall back in their favor.
As someone with emotional regulation problems and the worst attachment style, I used to have a big big big "if it's bad it'll never be good again so burn that bridge" attitude about interpersonal relationships. I followed OP's philosophy in an unhealthy way.
But practicing letting go of grudges & openly communicating issues (whether I'm upset or I think they are) has helped me be myself better bc I'm not constantly defensive about how other people might respond. I don't see every disagreement as relationship-ending.
Because sometimes whether a person stops interacting with you or just sighs at your antics depends entirely on a conversation.
And you don't need to put this effort in to every relationship with every person. Some are aquaintances or people who aren't super important to you. Some issues might even resolve themselves.
But sometimes the "fickle people" are ones you care about, and sometimes neither of you have the full story.
Do your thing! Just know "your thing" is less of a dealbreaker than you might think :D
Most liberating thing ever is realizing people are so fickle and you can fall out of their favor so easily so u might as well just do your thing . Literally does not matter
#if it isnt clear im not disagreeing with either op or the reblog! /gen#it's more of a “yes and”#bc ppl can be fickle in both ways#and grudge holding is sooooo last year /lh
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clingy Vi headcanons
never not thinking about her ahh
When out in public it's suddenly like she's a child again. Crossing the road? She's gripping onto your arm. Always tugging on your hand to point out random things (movie ads at bus stops, a cool car, a literal plane in the sky, anything).
And don't get me started on the handholding. Even when it's boiling out, you find her fingers slotting with yours anyway. When you pull away, saying it's too sweaty and hot, she full on pouts. "But I just wanna..." she'll say, those puppy eyes of hers looking at you all hurt and pleading that you always give in.
And when both your hands are full, carrying shopping or coffee, she'll take it from you, somehow always managing to hold everything in one hand so she can offer her free hand with a smile like soo... you gonna take it then? But if you're busy on your phone or something, she'll find another way to hold onto you. Often you don't even realise it until you turn and feel a tug. And oh, she's gripping onto your jacket sleeve, slipped her hand into your coat pocket.
When waiting in line, standing at the counter, pausing anywhere for a literal second, she's there. Sometimes you don't even know where she comes from, she just pops up out of nowhere the moment you pause, slipping her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. "I thought you were out..." you say, confused, waiting for the coffee machine to heat up and the moment you're standing still she's wrapping herself around you, heat radiating off her as always. "Was..." she mumbles against your shoulder. "Back now."
When you're lying on the sofa watching TV, she's squeezing between your back and the cushions, even though there's virtually no room. "What are you doing...?" you ask, even as you adjust your position so she can slide her arms around you. "Just wanna hold you for a bit..." comes the muffled reply.
Giving your bum a cheeky slap every time you bend over while cleaning, putting on shoes, basically at every opportunity she gets. When you scowl at her, pretending to be annoyed, she raises her hands, grinning and not looking at all sorry. "Well, you were right there so... what's a girl gotta do...?"
Kisses on your cheeks and hands and fingers. When you're out it never fails to make you flustered. Holding your hand, but then she needs to reach into her back pocket for her wallet to pay for something. Rather than just dropping your hand, even for the brief moment it takes her to pay, she'll press a quick kiss to your knuckles, folding your hand over the crook of her elbow so you're still holding onto her. Then taking your hand again as soon as she's tapped her card, her other hand sliding around your waist as if to make up for the momentary loss of contact.
Her thumb rubbing small circles over your knuckles, your hipbone, waist—wherever her hand happens to be settled. Sometimes it's nice, a soft comfort. Other times it's... distracting. You're in the supermarket, reading the ingredient list on a packet, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate with the absent thumb Vi is rubbing up and down the base of your spine where she's got her hand settled in the small of your back. "Vi please, we'll be here all day if I can't focus..." and "Hmm? But I'm not doing anything..." comes the innocent reply.
It gets to the point where you literally can't go to the beach with her (there are children, for god's sake!!) because she absolutely cannot stop herself from touching you. All. the. time. If you're sunbathing, she's draped herself half atop you ("Vi! I'm trying to tan!" you protest, laughing as you try and shove her off). Her arms are always looped around you, she's always pressing kisses over your bare shoulders, fingers absently trailing your thighs so you're breathless.
It's gotten to the point where she's almost always touching you in some way, and you love it.
#it's need not want at this point#ahhhh#arcane s2#arcane vi#arcane#vi x you#vi x reader#vi fanfic#wlw#lesbian#sapphic#vi arcane#vi headcanons#arcane headcanon#arcane league of legends
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How Deep Is Your Love?
come to me on a winter breeze, keep me warm in your love ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ pairing: wen junhui x f.reader ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ genre: established relationship, fluff, smut (R: mdni 18+) ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ wordcount: 1.5k
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ summary: jun is your biggest fan, and he'd rather spend his new years worshipping you than spend time doing anything else. ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ tags/smut tags: whipped!jun, established relationship, readers birthday is jan 1st, new years fic, birthday sex, dom!jun, sub!reader, oral (f. receiving), multiple rounds, rough sex, multiple rounds, spanking, reader is in love with jun's adams apple. ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ note: for my jumepi, @junkissed, happy birthday to the oomf that i share my one brain cell with. sharks, im giving you 100% of my company for 10 dabloons. anyways enough silly talk, happy bday jumepi i've already read your comments on the doc and this is my second time posting this lawl. love u sm my queen of huihuis, enjoy your day ♡ (ps jun's balls are non returnable to ammazon). a special thank u to @monamipencil for beta-reading, ily!
“Don’t you think we left too early?” You mutter in between gasps of pleasure.
The vibrations flowing from Jun’s mouth are hot on your neck as he peppers kisses against your supple skin. He had no reason to stay, not when he could spend time worshiping your body.
He couldn’t care less about his friend's protests as he rushed the both of you home, ready to give in to his most carnal desires. There was no better way than spending New Year's Day and your birthday tangled between the sheets of your shared apartment.
As he hastily removes your outerwear and his own, he finds himself slipping into your shared routine. First your coat, then your shoes, then his, and so on… all while his large palms search for the dip in your waist. Jun grips you tightly as his lips capture yours in earnest. The universe knew what they were doing, sending you to him. How else is he meant to spend New Year's if not within your tight cunt?
“I don’t care if the guys are mad we left early, this is your day.” Jun grunts, wrapping your legs around his torso before making his way to your bedroom.
“This happens every year, don’t you want to spend the New Year differently?” you retort, but he can only shake his head in protest.
“If it doesn’t include worshipping my hot girlfriend then I don’t care,” he replies, pulling back to stare at you earnestly.
Whatever argument you had built on the tip of your tongue dies as he presses your heat against his growing member. The moan that erupts from your throat is raw and high-pitched, a melodic symphony to your boyfriend’s ears.
As the two of you reach your bed, he throws you onto the mattress, knowing how much you love it when he showcases his strength in front of you. The mere thought of overpowering you while slipping himself into your wet hole leaves his cock twitching with desire.
“Who gave you the right to be so corny?” you snort, propping yourself on the mattress as you watch Jun discard whatever clothing he had left.
“Like I said, I can’t help it. Gotta show my baby how much I appreciate her,” he shrugs, dipping down into the bed with you.
His nose rubs against yours affectionately, savouring your saccharine scent. Jun is left dizzy with lust, and most importantly love. One could only hope to feel the same amount of affection he does for you. From the top of your head to the very tip of your toes, he adores everything about you. Fuck everything else, he only needs one thing, one person.
You.
With his mind swimming, he drowns himself in your warmth. Fingers tracing the outlines of your bare stomach, trying his best to remove your sweater from your body.
“Enough teasing, please baby,” you whine.
Jun didn’t think he was teasing at all, but he could never deny himself of your requests. Especially when you talk with such a needy tone.
As much as he wanted to savour every crevice of your body, he couldn’t delay himself even further. The button of your jeans unclasp, and they’re off your legs within seconds. The denim flies across the room as Jun dives back into your neck, red marks blooming in his wake.
Your head lolls back, giving him more room to work with. While his breath is hot along your skin, Jun’s hands grip the meat of your thighs. His hands shift higher until they’ve reached the apex of your awaiting sex.
The whine you let out causes Jun to groan in response, but there’s something more important that awaits him. Tongue sliding against your inner thighs, he indulges himself in the scent of your nectar. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit and he peppers kisses along your folds.
“F-fuck. Oh fuck! Baby–,” your barely comprehensible blabber is cut off the moment Jun sticks his wet tongue inside you.
Massaging your folds, he continues to play with your pussy till your legs shake around his head. Your fingers grip the root of his blond hair, his mind blank as he focuses on one thing only.
Handprints mark your thighs from the sheer strength he’s using to hold you in place, wanting you to succumb to the pleasure, to feel it in your core. Until the very moment your juices cover his lips and chin.
“You taste like heaven,” Jun groans from underneath you.
“J-just fuck me. Please, wanna cum with you,” you beg.
The breath in Jun’s throat hitches, pulling away from your sweet pussy, he sits on his heels. One hand wraps around his hardened length while the other continues to rub on your sensitive bud. Your eyes are lidded with desire, completely fucked out just for him.
He especially loves the way your cheeks flush whenever you're in a complete state of utter lust. The simple inhale and exhale of your breath, the way it causes your chest to heave in and out. One could only be this lucky to have you as their girlfriend. Jun can’t even come to comprehend what he has done to deserve your very being, but he can at least try to show you how deeply in love he is with you.
“You ready baby?” He asks, although he knows you simply can’t wait a second longer.
“Mhm, I love it when you fuck me hard. Will you do it for me? It’s almost my birthday you know,” you whisper, grabbing his hand to pull him over your body.
Jun’s eyebrows scrunch, his resolve weakened by your voice, your words.
“Fuck yes, gonna fuck you into the next year,” he mutters before grabbing your thighs once again.
Your hand snakes its way down between your bodies, his cock hard, pulsating with need. Jun pants above you, waiting for you to align him with your sopping hole.
The initial push into your tight cunt leaves him breathless, Jun’s thick cock stretching your inner walls with enough force that your eyebrows furrow with a mix of pain and pleasure. Forcing himself into you completely, he begins to move in and out with swift thrusts. The tip of his dick kissing your cervix every time his hips collide with yours.
“So f-fucking tight,” Jun practically growls, hypnotized by the way your cunt is squeezing him. He can barely breathe.
Pushing your thighs against your chest, Jun begins to pound into you incessantly. The backboard slams against the wall in tandem with his movements. He presses into you even further, wanting you to feel him in your stomach.
“J-Jun, fu-uck.” you moan out salaciously, your hands intertwined behind his neck.
Your lips move to his Adam’s apple, and his groans turn into whiny pants. You’ve always known that he was extra sensitive there, his length twitching inside you while you leave sloppy kisses absent-mindedly.
His thrusts turn erratic the more attention you pay to his Adam’s apple, and it’s not long before he’s spilling his cum inside you, rutting his hips as he fucks you through his high.
Although Jun can feel exhaustion wash over him, he doesn’t stop fucking your hot cunt. Hands grasp at your waist, turning you over until your ass is perfectly in his line of sight. A fistful of your hair forces your back to arch, his cock still red and angry as he pushes himself inside you once more.
“Think you can take more of my cum baby?” He mutters into your ear, tightening his grip on you.
“I can do it, I promise. Just fuck your cum into me,” you pant before a squeal leaves your lips. Jun’s free hand slaps your ass until it’s covered in handprints.
“Keep doing that, please. I’m gonna cum,” you beg for him again, eyes watering as you reach the apex of your orgasm.
Jun does as you ask, slapping you till he can feel your walls clench and unclench with every strike. The flow of juices coming from your pussy coats his cock, triggering another spurt of cum to release inside your spent hole.
Out of breath and balls emptied Jun slumps onto your back, engulfing you into a tight hug. He refuses to pull out, wanting to stay inside you forever if you allow it. He cranes his neck, the clock on the wall striking midnight. January first.
“Happy birthday baby, I love you,” Jun whispers in your ear, kissing the nape of your neck.
“I love you too, but can you get off my back? you’re crushing me.” Your face is planted into the pillows, voice muffled.
“Oh right, hehe sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly.
Finally pulling out of your dripping heat, he manhandles you until you're pressed up against his side—a content sigh leaving his lips. His chest blooms, bliss spreading throughout his limbs. Another year with the love of his life.
One could only hope to be in love in the same way he is with you.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ note: thank you for reading! although this is dedicated to june for her bday, i hope you enjoyed it too :) lmk what u think by leaving a comment or reblog hehe. see u soon - anna ♡
#seventeen#seventeen smut#jun smut#wen junhui#svthub#thediamondlifenetwork#hiraya m#seventeen fic#seventeen fanfic#svt smut#svt fanfic#seventeen fluff#jun fluff#jun x reader#jun fanfic
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after seeing so many people bring up Drop Dead Fred in the comments of my bj & lyds comic, i decided to finally watch it last night and oh my god. i get it now. that's literally them, it's crazy???? i mean not 100% but i'm still shocked at how much they reminded me of both beej and lydia in looks, personality and dynamic (i gotta say though, i'm surprised that fred is more chaotic and infuriating than beej lol. fred makes him look tame in comparison)
it's interesting that tim burton was offered to direct this movie. i can definitely see how that would've turned out. the dark humor, the aesthetic of the imaginary friends and the inside of elizabeth's head already felt pretty burtonesque as they were in the movie, so i don't doubt he was a source of inspiration regardless.
fred and elizabeth though...it's crazy how much this feels like a spiritual successor to the beetlejuice cartoon. obviously it has its own identity so it's not like it's a beetlejuice ripoff or anything, especially since elizabeth is an adult dealing with adult problems and fred's existence is kinda vague in the sense that you don't know how much of him is actually imaginary/part of elizabeth's mind, and how much of him is an actual entity separate from elizabeth. i think by the end he struck me as some type of fucked up guardian angel that only manifests to those who need him. his purpose and reason of existence are directly tied to elizabeth (or whoever needs an imaginary friend) due to her needing some sort of coping mechanism to deal with abuse from her mother and her ex-husband. so like...part of her brain (her taking special pills weakens him until he disappears) but also not. he just exists with the sole purpose of helping her get back on her feet.
which is why i'm baffled at this letterboxd review i saw when i logged the movie:
girl what the FUCK are you talking about.
(spoilers: there is one kiss. one very non-sexual non-romantic goodbye kiss between elizabeth and her living coping mechanism/figment of her imagination/guardian angel of sorts after she managed to heal her inner child thanks to him. i am straight up stupefied that someone would interpret this whole thing as grooming. what movie were you watching)
i'm surprised in general at how so many people completely missed the point of the movie. people taking the gross out immature humor at face value as if that's what the movie is about has me worried about people's media literacy for real lol. this perception of the movie made it flop in the US and even had david letterman condescend to rik mayall when he interviewed him back when the movie came out in 1991. man.........don't piss me off lol
anyway. weird but ultimately lovely movie, it makes so much sense that this is a comfort movie for many and now i totally get why my comic reminded people of it. i understood what they were going for and it's tragic that general audiences did not. it's a movie that's hard to market for sure, because it looks like a kids movie at first glance but the themes and humor are very adult; but then an adult might look at this movie and go "why am i watching a movie where an imaginary manchild calls this girl snotface and makes all these crude gross out jokes" so i'm just. pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration at how misunderstood this movie ended up being
so yeah if you like beetlejuice and lydia's friendship in the cartoon, definitely watch this movie. just know what you're in for lol
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in disguise -op81
in which: Oscar’s classmate invites him—well, himself and spider-man—to her New Year’s Eve party where things take a turn for the worse for him. (au)
pairing: spider-man!oscar piastri x reader
warnings: use of y/n, alcohol consumption, cursing
part 1 | part 2
‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Weeks had passed since that first day on the rooftop. Oscar would meet you everyday he could, on the same rooftop, around the same time.
You found yourself waiting for him, longing for his presence, searching the skies for a blur of blue and red. And you found yourself smiling every time you heard him drop down behind you and joined you on the ledge.
Tonight was no different.
Half an hour had passed but it felt like seconds. “What if someone was being robbed while you’re sitting up here with me?”
Oscar laughed with his chest, folding over himself. “Then I guess I’ll be getting a call from Mr. Stark about my avenger title being revoked.”
You chuckled, but the sound was all air. “Uhm, speaking of not doing your work…” you started, staring down at your swinging feel. “Do you think you could get New Year’s Eve off? I mean there’s going to be cops all over the city anyway.” Your face was flushed, a tinge of pink coloring your cheeks. You were nervous, an emotion Oscar didn’t even think you were capable of.
“I don’t know if superhero’s ever get a day off but perhaps I could cut my hours short?” He grinned under the mask.
“I just- I’m having a party and I think it would be really cool if you could come.” Your voice was small, scared of rejection from Spider-Man. That kind of rejection would be enough to kill a person.
The anxiety was lifted from your shoulders when he spoke, “yeah, I’ll definitely make some time.”
۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ
Oscar shuffled through his books, stashing the anatomy one in his locker and exchanging it for the calculus book.
“Hey,” the voice unmistakably belonged to you. You stood beside Oscar’s locker, a hand laxly holding onto the metal door, your bodies nearly touching.
Thinking you couldn’t possibly be talking to him, he turned in the other direction, but no one was there. “Yes I’m talking to you, Oscar.” You laughed.
He met your eyes with his own, now blown wide. “Well don’t look too shocked yet.”
Oscar awkwardly adjusted his posture and fixed his expression to a more neutral one. Your smile did well to hold back your laughter.
“Listen, I’m having a New Year’s Eve party and I want you to come.”
Of course, Oscar was already invited as spider-man, and said yes as spider-man. But to turn down a party invite from you would be insanely stupid of him. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He nodded.
Your smile brightened. “Great! Uhm but if I could get your number so I could send you the address that would be good.”
Scrambling through his locker, Oscar was searching for the pack of sticky notes he swore he had. “Here,” you spoke, a light pink sticky note held delicately between your fingers. Oscar scribbled his number onto the paper and handed it back to you, fingers brushing past each other as you plucked it from his hand. “Perfect. Looking forward to seeing you there.” You winked before walking off. Just from that single muscle movement, Oscar’s face felt far too hot.
“Ha. What are you blushing for?” Logan poked Oscar’s shoulder. “I was just invited to y/n’s New Years Eve party.” He spoke, a level of bewilderment in his voice.
“No fucking way!” He hit Oscar’s shoulder with far too much force, jolting Oscar back to reality. “You’ve gotta bring me with you.” Still half in a haze, Oscar nodded.
۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ
“Mr. Stark?” Oscar called out, cautiously venturing further into the compound.
Tony called him not long ago. Not much explanation was given except for that it was an urgent matter and Oscar absolutely had to rush over to the compound.
“Mr. Stark is in his lab.” Friday’s robotic voice informed from above. Face turned towards the ceiling, Oscar gave a small “thanks” before rushing off to meet Tony.
“Mr Stark?” Oscar called, catching himself on the doorframe to throw himself into the room, having been running far too fast.
As his gaze was locked on the large holographic screen ahead of him, Tony gestured for Oscar to come closer. They both watched as one man—dressed in what looked to be a comically large fur-lined cape—hovered over a bridge, freezing over the whole structure. A giant snowball was conjured from the air, and quickly turned to a solid block of ice. It was then smashed into the side of the bridge, obliterating the concrete walls and sending cars down onto the—now frozen—water below. They crushed on impact.
“Oh my god.” Oscar breathed out in horror. Head hung low, Tony paused the clip. “His name is Ryder West, but goes by subzero.” Tony flashed a photo of the man out of costume. “As you saw, he has freaky Elsa powers.”
Oscar felt the familiar feeling of fear creeping up on him, raising goosebumps along his arms despite the heated suit. “And… you want me to take care of this? Don’t you think this is more of an avengers level threat? What does this guy even want anyway?” He stuttered out the list of questions, looking at Tony like he was insane. “I mean, that guy can crush me in two seconds with one of those ice balls! And how was he even floating?”
Tony put a hand up to stop Oscar’s never-ending questions. “You can handle this, kid. I know you can. And as for your last question, I believe he can manipulate water, and was using that ability to help him float.”
Oscar’s brain couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. “Walking on water? That like- that defies the laws of physics.”
“Oscar, there’s a wizard who can manipulate space and time. I don’t think physics means much these days.” Tony sighed.
“How can I fight a guy who defies the laws of physics? Man this would be a really good time to have someone on our side who’s made of fire or something.”
The look on Tony’s face was not even remotely amused. “Kid, you’ve fought a witch before. This should be a piece of cake.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder before exiting the room.
۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ
Oscar changed his outfit three times. A fact usually not paired with him. But tonight had him digging through his closet to find the perfect outfit, one that was the most flattering on him. He settled for a maroon t-shirt and a somewhat loose pair of jeans.
He figured everything out. He would show up first as himself, then after about half an hour, he would sneak off and change into his Spider-Man outfit. Had his nano-suit not need fixing, Oscar’s task of playing two roles would have been infinitely easier, but alas, he was left with his other suit, which he was to manually put on and take off.
Oscar dropped by to pick up Logan. They’d asked Fred if he wanted to come along too but he politely declined in favor of his games.
When Logan and Oscar arrived, the party was already very lively. Loud music reverberated around the big house, shaking the floor if you got too close to the large speakers.
Regretfully, they found a very drunk, and very energetic Lando when they neared the kitchen. He threw an arm around Oscar, his grip loose. “Hey! Oscar! I didn’t know you’d be here! Didn’t think this was your kind of crowd!” Lando shouted in Oscar’s ear, and he had to jerk his head away to spare his eardrums. “Not usually, but when Y/n invites you, you’d have to be insane not to say no.”
“Awe thanks!” You appeared from behind him, leaning up against the counter across from him. “I’m honored that you broke out of your comfort zone for me.” Your bottom lip was caught delicately between your teeth as you reached out to land a soft hit to his bicep. Alex came rushing into the kitchen, Carmen trailing right behind her. “Come on it’s our song!” Alex shouted, dragging you back to the living room, presumably to dance.
“Dude what the fuck!” Lando gasped. “She’s totally into you!” Had Lando not been drunk out of his mind, Oscar may have been subject to his jealousy. But for now, it was total excitement on Oscar’s behalf.
Oscar chuckled nervously. “I’m not so sure about that one.”
“If you don’t want her, then can you put a good word in for me?” Logan nudged Oscar’s shoulder with his.
Him and Logan managed to get away from Lando’s clingy self, and proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes making awkward small talk with their drunk classmates.
He grabbed Logan by the shoulder, leaning in close to his ear. “I’ll see you later, I’m gonna go… change.”
Thankfully, because of the chilly December air, there was no one outside. So Oscar’s task was a lot easier. He climbed onto the roof, and got to changing. At one point, while Oscar’s suit was half on, a couple came out of the house, and he had to quickly drop down to his stomach to avoid being seen.
Eventually, Oscar got the Spider-Man suit on, and dropped down right in front of the main door.
He let himself in, and immediately the atmosphere shifted. All eyes were on him, the chatter ceasing, though the music still blared. You came around the corner. “What’s everyone- Ah! You made it!” You cheered, the crowd making a perfect walkway for you to reach him. You stopped right in front of him to turn and face the party-goers. “Well, get back to partying! Don’t mind him.” And they miraculously did as you suggested, the loud chatter quickly resuming.
“Seems like heroes do get a day off after all.” Your mouth split in a smile, the party lights reflecting off your bubblegum pink lip gloss.
There was a Christmas tree in the entry room, and a certain ornament on it caught Oscar’s attention. He padded over to the tree and you followed. He held the ornament with delicate fingers, keeping it still handing from its branch and pointed to it. “Big fan of me?”
Your head was thrown back as you laughed. “The biggest. But my dad hates it. Tried to get rid of it completely.” Oscar frowned and your smile widened. “You know, your mask moves with your expressions. It doesn’t hide much.” His lips curved into a grin, and you clapped your hands together a single time. “ah that’s one I know well! You’re smiling.”
You grabbed hold of his risk with nimble fingers, the pressure of them light. “It’s too loud down here, how about we go somewhere quieter?” You gave him no room to answer, leading him up the stairs as soon as your words are out. Though Oscar would have agreed anyway, as he willingly follows you.
You reach the top of the steps and venture down a hallway to the very end. You extend an arm to the top of the doorframe, extracting a small key from the ledge. Unlocking the door, you led yourself and Oscar in the room before closing it behind you. “Sorry, I lock the doors cause I don’t want to clean up any… residue.” You explained, shivering at the mere thought.
Oscar assumed this was your bedroom. The lighting was dim. A single lamp lighting the whole room. But Oscar could still make out the posters of various artists hanging on the walls and the piles of books that lined your bookshelves. It was undeniably the room of a teenage girl.
You laid on the plush bed, pulling Oscar with you. He sat on the edge while you sat up against the headboard. “So how was your New Year’s Eve shift?” You smirked, though your mind couldn’t stop thinking about how he still had yet to pull away from your entwined hands.
“Did you bring me up here just so we could have a rooftop chat?” You chuckled at the way the eyes of his mask shifted as if he was lifting a brow at you. “Yes. I love our chats.”
“But it’s so close to midnight. Wouldn’t you want to be down there with everyone?” You shook your head. “Surely there’s someone down there you want to kiss at midnight.” Oscar gave a light tug on your hand. You smiled softly, now unable to meet his eyes, your gaze fixated on your hands. “No. There’s no one down there I want to kiss.” You were suddenly shy with your words, the confidence fading with the fantasies of kissing the one and only Spider-Man at midnight running through your mind.
“Oh?” Oscar quipped, and you looked up at him through you eyelashes. “What about you? Surely a superhero like you has someone special.” The tip of your finger tapped the back of his hand. Oscar shook his head. “No girlfriend.” He replied.
You acted shocked, though you already presumed as much. “Really? Color me surprised.”
You reached for the remote on the bedside table, and turned the channel onto the live stream of the ball drop.
“We are just one minute away from dropping into the new year, and…”
You tuned the television out, straightening up and sitting directly in front Oscar. His breath began to come in shallower waves.
“Ten!”
You reached up to his neck, fingers slipping under the fabric of the mask. Your fingers ghosted over the bare skin of his neck and shivers shot through the both of your bodies.
“Nine!”
When no protests came, you continued on.
“Eight!”
Oscar tried to talk himself out of this, to grab ahold of your hands and stop your movements.
“Seven!”
He couldn’t bring himself to stop you.
“Six!”
Your anticipation wanted to tear the thing off, but you wanted to give him a chance to pull out of this if he wanted to.
“Five!”
Oscar’s breathing ceased when the mask rode past his chin.
“Four!”
You searched the eyes of his mask for any micro expression that would alert you of discomfort. There was none.
“Three!”
Oscar finally grabbed hold of your wrist when the mask passed his lips. You got the message, letting go of the fabric and leaving it to rest on the bridge of his nose.
“Two!”
He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand remaining cradling your cheek even after the hair was secure.
“One!”
By his hand on your cheek, he pulled you close.
“Happy New Year!”
He took on the responsibility of making the first move, closing the gap between you, capturing your lips with his.
There was a desire in the way you moved together that was unmatched to anything either of you have ever felt before.
Your hand slid up the front of his suit, stopping to rest on his chest. Wherever your hand went, Oscar’s body buzzed.
Greed drove Oscar’s movements as his hand slid to the small of your back, and drew you closer. The shock of the movement had you gasping into his mouth, “oscar,”
His eyes flew open, and he jumped away from you. He stood across the room, yanking his mask back down. “Wh- what did you say?” Oscar was breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was in total disbelief, swearing he must have heard you wrong.
You stared at him in shock. “I’m—fuck—I didn’t mean to do this now.” You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed and afraid for his reaction.
“What do you mean? How did you— who told you?” He tried to be demanding, but his mind was racing with ten different emotions at once. Elation, confusion, fear, anger.
Lifting your head, you met his eyes, shaking your head. “No one. I figured it out on my own.” Your eyes darted around the room, and he could tell you were scared. Hell, he could feel your fear, radiating off of you in profuse waves.
He took a deep breath. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He drew the curtains closed and sat on the end of your bed. Slowly, he removed his mask. “What gave it away?” Oscar’s voice was low and airy, nearing the point of whispers. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes, rolling his mask between his fingers instead.
“It wasn’t one thing. More like a couple.” He stayed silent, allowing you to continue. “It started with that first day, when you got my purse back for me. Your voice was familiar but I couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.” You watched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “All that fancy tech in that suit, but not enough room for a voice changer.” You tried to lighten the mood. It half worked, earning an airy chuckle from Oscar. “I’ll talk to Mr. Stark about that one.” He said.
You smiled and continued. “Then the next day at school, I connected your voices when I asked you that question in anatomy. And your face got red too, which tipped me off a little.” He nodded. “And then tonight really sealed it. When I noticed you’d disappeared then Spider-Man came along not much later.”
Oscars head hung low, his tongue darting out between his lips. “So…” he sighed. “Did you kiss me just ‘cause I’m spider-man then?” He reluctantly asked.
“What?” The accusation made you defensive. “No. No I- Oscar I like you for you. You’re funny, and smart, and an amazing person to be around. You make me happy.”
He finally met your gaze, searching your eyes for any sign of fibbing. Everything about them was genuine. Oscar shook his head. “You shouldn’t know. It can put you in a lot of danger.”
You shrugged. “Well you can’t change that now.” A half-hearted chuckle left your lips.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, he hardly blinked either. You scooted closer to him, not quite touching him yet. “You okay?”
Oscar made a feeble attempt at nodding. “This just gets scarier with every person who finds out, I guess.” He muttered.
Then you decided to take a risk, reaching around his neck to give him a hug from the side. It wasn’t tight or anything, just a gentle, physical reminder that you weren’t going anywhere. You didn’t spend three weeks freezing on a rooftop every night on your break for nothing.
A hesitant hand of Oscar’s raised slowly, and stopped to rest around your wrist. The two of you sat like that for approximately fifteen minutes before you spoke up, “I think I should probably get back to the party. Make sure nothing breaks.” You slowly peeled yourself away, Oscar saying nothing but giving you a soft smile and a small nod.
When you tried to open the door, it snapped shut. Looking up, there was a web sticking to both the door and the frame. Your gaze found Oscar, who was now standing and had a sly grin on his face.
Another web was shot, this one landing on your wrist. Yanking his arm roughly, you came stumbling toward him, crashing into his chest. “Quite the romantic.” You laughed.
Oscar dipped his head, taking the lead once again to connect your lips. He wasn’t so greedy this time, he was delicate. He took his time, holding you as if you were made of glass. His touch had you like putty in his hands, subject to his control when he started to direct the both of you back to the bed.
When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you pulled away from him with a hum. “I should really get back.” The way he looked at you was so dizzying, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. “Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, his words airy as he tried to catch his breath.
He plucked the mask from the bed, letting his smile grow when his back was to you. Mask slipped over his head and tucked into place, he followed you out of the door.
Halfway down the staircase, a photo caught his eye and he paused. “Who’s this?” He asked, knowing full well who it was, he did his best to hide his nerves.
“Oh, that’s my dad.” You waved a hand through the air. “He’s some sort of weather scientist. I think you two would really get along.” You smiled.
Oscar was sure that wouldn’t be the case, as he was staring at a picture of none other than Ryder West.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#op81#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#oscar piastri au#oscar piastri angst#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#spiderman!oscar piastri
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Jason Todd headcanon alert 🚨
*taps mic, and clears throat*
Okay okay so, I’ve seen some people on here saying Jason probably uses 3 in 1 shampoo conditioner body wash, and I actually agree.
BUT as a latina I got somethings to say!
I won’t even address the comments I saw saying that he doesn’t shower regularly because that’s just insane btw. At least when it comes to the way I imagine him.
Obviously I try to make my reader as neutral as possible in terms of ethnicity and stuff but bitch I’m sure as hell incorporating our overall cultural aspect of always being clean and smelling like heaven alright lmao 💅✨
Smelling great has gotta be like one of the biggest aphrodisiacs in the world idc what anybody says. Being clean and smelling good is POWER babes!!!
That being said:
If Jason starts dating a girl like that, the minute she spots that product on his bathroom shelf, it’s 👏 going 👏 away 👏
He may protest at first, saying it’s practical, and that he’s been doing that for years etc, but the death glare he receives will shut him up completely.
Besides proper shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, I see him incorporating good smelling body lotion, and post-shave balm for example.
With time, he also sees your commitment with skincare (again, nothing too crazy), and gets convinced to adopt a 3 steps routine too (face wash, moisturizer, sunscreen). Ofc he’ll forget about it in the beginning and whenever he’s exhausted from patrol or his missions. But you’re always there to gently remind him or do it for him.
He also applies a thicker facial cream to his face on Winter, and relishes on the fact that his face stops cracking.
You might convince him to try on a face mask with you on a lazy Saturday night. It’s domestic and another way to bond as well.
Aside from abolishing the 3 in 1 horrid thing, you wouldn’t really push him into doing anything else. It’d be mere suggestions accompanied by an extra sweet smile.
Ultimately, Jason doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Even if you insist. If it doesn’t make sense to him, he won’t do it.
However, he’s actually as open to listen to your ideas and opinions as you are to his.
And that’s how he gets convinced, and starts incorporating these things into his life.
His skin and hair actually look better, hence he feels better about himself too. It’s an act of self care. One he’s never actually had the luxury to have or think about.
Besides, he loves how wonderful you smell with sweetened and fresh scents, making him wanna bite you all over just to get a taste of the supple skin.
So why wouldn’t he want to mirror that as well? He sees that it’s worth it when you just can’t stop smelling him, praising him, and returning his bites with just as much eagerness. This man purrs alright!!!
And listen, he’s a manly man, but fortunately not one to have a fragile masculinity in any way. So this isn’t an issue for him.
You’re there to help him when he needs it, making sure he feels comfortable, and respecting his boundaries at all times <3
Overall, I just think as your relationship progressed you’ve incorporated and exchanged a lot of things between each other, and I’m excited to share some other examples in the near future.
thanks for reading this, and let me know your thoughts!
if you disagree feel free to do so in your head (just kiddin’!! maybe!) <3
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#jason todd conference#jason todd headcanon
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Awwwe gosh Rosa, thank you!!! Happy New Year!!! I'm feeling a bit sappy so here goes. @grimdarkpumpkin @saltyseagil @ratjamtime @sonic-rider @revalentinee MY BESTIES!!! MY FRIENDS!!!! You keep me sane, you make me feel loved, and I can't thank you enough for being with me as long as you have. Especially with how often I tend to go radio silent. You're all so incredibly talented and cool, and you make me enjoy life, and being myself, more than I ever have.
@wacky-nameless-inventor-24 @shychick-52 I gotta shout out you guys specially! I know we don't interact as much as we did in the past, but I do lurk when I can and seeing you pop up on my dash makes me smile!!! Thank you for reaching out all that time ago, especially when I was feeling really insecure about my work at the time. You gave me the confidence to not only keep working on the longest fic I ever wrote, but to also not be afraid to make it as crazy and self-indulgent as I wanted skldnflksndflsnd. It really meant a lot at the time, just in case all the keysmashing I did back then didn't convey it well enough.
The rest of you I haven't known as long, but I've very much appreciated all of the nice comments and messages, getting to meet you, and especially the fact that going into the new year I have more people around to inflict emotional damage on with my art. Jokingly. >: )
@0-rosa-draws-0 (UNO REVERSE!!!) @alynwrench @muzzlemouths @zenkaiankoku @sulfadimethoxine @maycelium @divinitea-cafe @crees-a @wrapplepie @cozycitrus @shibiichi @nebula-remnants And one last thing. A massive thank you to @supershadicx250 you dubbing my comics was a really, really big thing for me and I still can't quite believe it actually happened. Thank you so so much for doing that.
I hope all of you have a great New Years, and I'll see you in 2025!!!
GOOOOOODMORNING SHEEPLE
It's the last day of 2024!!!!
So I gotta ask, who made your 2024 better? :]
For me it's all these weirdos /aff💕
@moldy-beans @nebula-remnants @ghostermctoaster @beetle-fettle @maxxzophone @111daebud @loony2star @0-rosa-draws-0 @hexcii @linafoxoficial @sunny-inajar @queencj09 @stxrlight09 @birdyjellyfish @bigsillyyyy @biggiesnails
SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE I'll probably add to it later 💥😭
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Hihi! Can I maybe request a CC fic. Where reader and CC are just relaxing day in after a celebration with family and friends for xmas. Basically just relaxing with each other and enjoying each others presence/cuddling. Ooo you can throw in an activity like baking cookies or sth. Just generally very fluffy.
Thank you!
Haiiiii first post of my drop today!! Also my first last fic of 2024 🌚
Under the covers
Pairing: Caitlin clark x reader
Rating: Fluff!!
Summary: as the request saidd
No spell check sorry chat
౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩.
It was the day after a Christmas party with Caitlin’s side of the family, usually being the calmer side of parties during the holidays.
Yet of course it was one to drain Caitlin’s social battery.
Of course with being a know known celebrity you would expect her social skills to be a bit higher than before, but to your surprise it seems as if they have went down after her renowned fame.
If she wasn’t at practice or a game the only other place you could find her was in your shared apartment.
But you didn’t mind, it just meant more caitlin for you.
You let an eye slip open seeing the morning sun shine through the windows of your bedroom shining softly on your face.
Turning to face Caitlin you placed a light kiss on her cheek in an attempt to wake her up.
You saw a soft smile play onto her face as she draped her arms over your body trapping you with her.
“You’re not going anywhere” she murmured into your hair as she rested her face on top of your head tightening her grip on you making you giggle.
You both laid there for a little cuddling, and giving soft kisses to each other as caitlin made cheesy jokes in an attempt to keep you from getting up for the day.
After a long bit of stalling you finally wiggled your way out of her grasp and went to your drawer to grab new clothes.
As you were grabbing a new t-shirt and some shorts out of your drawer, Caitlin’s hands snaked around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.
“Caityy c’mon i have to get dressed and than you have me for the rest of the day” with that her hand let go of your waist lingering momentarily
“Fineeee” she dragged out dramatically leading herself to her own closet to get dressed.
10 minutes later it was the same thing again, as you were walking out of your room to the kitchen caitlin caught you from behind hugging you.
“Why are you sooo clingyy” you said laughing as she placed a kiss on your neck.
“I don’t know you said i could have you after you got dressed and to me it looks like your dressed?” she said with a smug tone of voice
Removing her arms from her waist you grabbed her hand “okay i did say that but how about i propose a new thing to you” you said pulling her to the kitchen.
“How about a little baking??” You said looking at her as a smile grew on her face.
“Fineee” she said as she thanked went through the cabinets looking for ingredients for something.
Finally you both had gathered ingredients for cookies, both agreeing on it you both got to work.
You ended up getting all the measurements while caitlin mixed.
In the middle of it she added “we really need stand mixer” as she limped her arm.
After about 2 hours and 4 failed cookie dough attempts, you both finally got a cookie dough you were happy with.
As you shaped caitlin clinged to you again arms around your waist from behind as you shaped the cookie dough onto the metal baking sheets.
“Babe you gotta let go for a second i need to put the cookies in the oven” you said but still she didn’t give up forcing you to waddle your way to the oven with her holding onto you to put the cookies into the oven.
As you closed the oven she turned you around pulling you up as she picked you up holding you from underneath your thighs.
“Caitlin i swear” you couldn’t lie tho you were happy about her clinginess rarely did you get this much time with her now that she was in the wnba.
She kissed you on the lips softly before placing you on the counter letting go of the kiss she said “you know you love me” before she rested her head on your shoulder placing pecks on your neck every now and than.
You both stayed there moving to the living room eventually chatting and making your time together of use.
Before you knew it the cookies were done, you sat on the couch as caitlin got the cookies on a plate for the two of you placing them onto your guys small coffee table.
You both ended the night watching a show and eating the cookies you both made, making the day memorable for the both of you.
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across the hall; part 1 -quinn hughes-
summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care
word count: 1.4k
pairing: quinn hughes x single mom reader
notes: probably going to make this into a mini series because i have too many ideas to fit them in 1 fic. enjoy
y/n was walking into her apartment when her mom called, telling her how worried she was.
"mom, will you relax? i'm going to be fine. it's safer for me out here anyway." y/n walked into her apartment and set her keys down on the counter. her daughter took her shoes off and ran to her bedroom.
"have you met any of your neighbors yet, sweetie?"
"no, mom. i haven't met anyone in the building yet and i don't plan on it any time soon. i've been really busy with work and stuff and just haven't had the time nor the interest in doing so. plus, you know how abby is with strangers."
"i would feel better if you made at least one friend, dear. you're all alone in vancouver. anything could happen to you."
"what if i meet the wrong person, mom? ever think about that?"
"that doesn't worry me because i know you'll trust your instincts."
"and that's why i haven't bothered to talk to anyone in the building yet. besides, it's only my first week here. there's still plenty of time."
"okay fine. but i want you to keep me updated at all times."
"yes ma'am." y/n switched the phone from one ear to the other. there was a knock on the door and she jumped. "i gotta go mom. dinner's here."
"alright. love you sweetie. give abby a kiss for me."
"will do. love you too. bye." she hung up the phone and opened the door. "about time. i'm starving." she looked up from her wallet. "wait, you're not the pizza guy."
"no, i am not. my name is quinn and i live across the hall there." he turned and pointed to the door behind him. "i noticed you just moved in recently and i thought i'd be neighborly and come say hi, see if you needed any help with anything."
"that's very kind of you, quinn. but so far, i've got things handled. thank you though."
"well, if you ever need my help with anything, you know where to find me." he smiled and turned back towards his own apartment. just as y/n was about to shut her door, quinn turned back around. "i'm sorry. i completely forgot to ask for your name."
"it's y/n."
"mommy, i'm hungry." abby came up to y/n and looked at her.
"i know, sweetie. the pizza should be here shortly."
"okay. i'll be in my room." the girl turned around and headed down the hallway.
"she's adorable. how old is she?"
"she's 5, almost 6."
"they're always the cutest at that age." quinn smiled. "well, it was nice to finally meet you, y/n. see you later." he waved and entered his own apartment, leaving y/n to finally close her door.
"hey, abby. want a snack to hold you over until dinner gets here?"
"yes please." abby came out of her room to grab a snack from her bucket and headed back to play with her dolls.
y/n was about to send a text to her mom, letting her know she finally met a neighbor, when there was another knock on her door.
"this better be the pizza." she opened the door and saw quinn standing there holding a pizza box.
"they brought it to the wrong apartment. but don't worry. it's paid for. the guy didn't have time to walk across the hall so i paid him."
"you really didn't have to do that, quinn. but thank you." y/n accepted the pizza and looked at him. "would you maybe want to come in for a slice or two?"
"sure." quinn followed y/n into her apartment and sat on one of the stools at the island.
"abby, dinner's ready."
"yay. pizza!" the little girl yelled and ran out of her room. she stopped in her tracks when she saw quinn. "hi."
"hello."
"quinn, this is my daughter abigail. sweetheart, this is quinn. he lives across the hall."
"do you have kids?"
"no. not yet."
"how old are you?"
"i'm 24."
"oh, so is mommy. she just had a birthday."
"did you really?" quinn turned his attention from abby to y/n.
"no." y/n set the plates down on the island and helped abby into her chair. "well, i didn't just have a birthday. it's been a few months now."
"oh. well i'll be 25 next month."
"in case i don't see you, happy birthday." y/n smiled and began eating her slice of pizza.
"thank you." quinn smiled back and looked at abby,
"shit." y/n pulled her ringing phone out of her pocket and answered it. "hello? yeah. i'll be right there." she hung up and looked at quinn. "i barely know you but i just got called into work for an emergency and abby's normal sitter is busy tonight. would you mind-"
"go to work. i'll watch your daughter."
"you are a lifesaver quinn." y/n ran to her room to get ready. she came out 5 minutes later. "this is crazy. it's my first night off and i was hoping to relax but of course there's an emergency when the hospital is short-staffed."
"oh, you work at the hospital? how are you liking it?"
"it keeps me busy and pays well. but it's a very demanding job. i don't get to spend as much time with abby as i would like."
"that's alright, mom. i understand."
"i love you, sweetheart. now, be on your best behavior for quinn. if you're good, we can get you some new toys this weekend. how's that sound?"
"like an easy task." abby smiled and looked at quinn.
"okay great. thanks again, quinn." y/n smiled and walked out the door.
"alright, abby. what do you want to do?"
"dolls, makeover, tea party?"
"sounds like fun. shall we add music?"
"yes! dance party! mommy never has time for one."
"then we shall have one." quinn went on his music app and put on some popular music that was age appropriate and followed abby to her room to get the makeover started.
after a few hours of playtime, they settled down and quinn put on a random disney movie. abby cuddled up to his side and fell asleep within the first 20 minutes.
when the movie was finished, quinn put on another one and waited for y/n to get home.
he was halfway through the third movie when y/n walked through the door.
"i am so sorry. it took a lot longer than i thought but-" she stopped when quinn put his finger to his lips to shush her. "awe look at that. she must really like you."
"why do you think that?"
"she never falls asleep for anyone other than me. and she loves her usual sitter."
"oh." quinn smiled and adjusted his legs as y/n picked abby up.
"mommy?" abby rubbed her eyes and when she saw it was her mom, she just cuddled into her more.
y/n put abby in her bed and made sure she went back to sleep before she headed back to quinn.
"thank you so much for doing this. i didn't expect to get called into work tonight." she went to hand quinn some money but he stopped her.
"you don't have to pay me. i had a lot of fun."
"was she good?"
"very good. and such a polite child."
"what did you guys do?"
"after you left, we played with her barbies for about half an hour. and when she got bored of that, we had a tea party and then she did my 'makeup'." quinn chuckled. "oh. and we had a mini dance party before i put on some movies for her to settle down to. she was out within the first 20 minutes."
"well, sounds like you had a good time and honestly, i can't thank you enough for watching her. i owe you."
"it's fine. like i said, i had fun. consider that my payment."
"you're the best." y/n walked with quinn out into the hall. he walked up to his door and looked back.
"if i'm not busy & you ever need someone to watch abby, i would be more than happy to do it."
"really? oh my gosh. you really are the sweetest person i've ever met."
"what can i say? my mother raised me right." quinn flashed her a smile and opened his door. "good night, y/n."
"good night, quinn."
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http://www.leg.state.fl.us/statutes/index.cfm?App_mode=Display_Statute&URL=0800-0899/0847/0847.html
Here are your definitions :)
The book you mention "Heather has two mommies" falls under those definitons on account of this fascinating image i attached below
I highlighted the part that's i suspect confusing to the lawmakers.
Its pretty fucking weird i gotta say. Bcs i cant make heads nor tails on where the hell is that guy kissing the child. /s
Like the headtilt is borderline odd./s
I can't figure out where is the nose of that kid pointed. At which point i arrive to conclusion this is some odd lip kiss. Which is criminal like legally.
The thing is the intent doesn't matter but the final effect does. So.
(Anyway checked again about why the thing got relocated to higher grades and it wasnt actually this image part (??!) but im still confused as to wtf is it allowed, the mommies are great but wat the hail is this page fr, i get it may be supposed to be a head kiss but it just doesnt look like one at all)
The second book you mention was banned on different legal grounds disconnected from ISP branch as stated here
The two things are as far apart as they can get.
Context clue 4 u -> the law doesnt prohibit talks about "stranger danger" or bans introduction to the lgbt shit at 4th and further grades so the book should be very much accesible at that point. (Probs even a famous interschool read, afterall it was a hot topic)
And its not like the same law makes it illegal by homosexual couples to educate their children how they wish to. Most kids dont notice conciously that someone having "two mommies" or "two daddies" is a weird thing till, as they stated, above ig 10 y/o so the law doesnt affect much outside "political principals". So effectivly its just a rule about "dont talk about sex and dating" but you can "teach about reproduction as science" before 10 y/o is achieved.
I think it's a pretty good safeguard overall since most adoptees or bio kids from lgbt couples get normal info from direct source they can talk about between themselves and there is no 3rd party fearmongering about evil gays or enabling grooming attepts via lies on how homosexuals function. (Thats def a common trumpist fear, not that they know much as most population is heterosexual and as such doesnt seek out info, except regretably via explicit material which is most common to come across but lately she-ra, owl house and arcane seem to be changing things)
I would suppose gay penguins weren't into teaching reproduction so they got banned on those grounds (kinda hilarious to me but as a 9 yo i would probs get offended later on behalf of bad lgbt rep and lesbophobia since the penguins are most often in BL situationships which would lead a child to think that perhaps lesbians don't exist irl)
Tbh i can understand worries concerned with left wing educators bcs holy shit certain usa pride marches are straight up degenrate in comparsion to european ones
(i just wish they banned priests too :( )
(Anyway if bible was to be analised under gender id and obscenity laws scope then i bet we could ban it :D )
Additionaly, you can access 4chan bcs its servers are not in your states territory physicly probably, therefore do not fall under the porn ban which is regional law and not federal law
The state cannot forbid you access to "foreign press" lets say, under democracy that is
I don't take anything that doritoassrapist says seriously. He can suck dongs all day long with those speeches idc what he says. That is but one scrote, i would rather monitor gatherings of them - the current porn ban has not affected anyone outside the sex industry since becoming a real thing. The law itself cannot be misunderstood in legalise so it cant touch other laws unless the phrasing will be changed in it to allow for that. At which point the effects should be reported in the news. Nothing like that happend so no worries about it.
I would say to be concerned more about changing definitions in obscenity laws
Tumblr is not a website with adult content officialy. The rules are against it but they cannot censor literally everything bcs of artistic rights. The porn ban is in effect but there is no ban to advertise porn or real life abuse per say which is The Problem
Tbf if they forbid ads with the stuff or made a comprehensive mandatory education on school levels on recognising abuse we wouldnt be having as many problems as now with grooming on tumblr dot com
VPNs actually sell the info they gather so its a real 50/50 here
I belive what they write down with proof and when i see how it works. I'm gnostic atheist. Gender self ID is the same to me as christianity. I hate both sides equally well, no need to get prissy. (Yes I belive gender dysphoria is a thing (as in genitals and second sex characteriscs like beards owned being hm odd to someone for 10 years straight after puberty). Yes trans people exist to me but definitly not in the "non binary" box with other "two spirits", the same way i don't belive in female or male souls. Or souls as a general concept. Or being trans bcs of gender roles and patriarchy fetish (disturbing crowd which you probs already encountered here))
And so far the only people concerned about how the system works are not much from left or right since they all base it on non empirical beliefs today.
The left looks like this to me:
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/video/news/video-3293649/Video-Trans-activist-climbs-chair-flashes-bottom-twerks.html
The right looks like this to me:
https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.theguardian.com/us-news/2022/dec/07/arizona-polygamous-cult-leader-child-abuse-samuel-bateman
Its like a populism bingo lately :/
Anyhow, i belive the porn ban laws accomplish the purpose given to them based on my own conclusions. It will just take getting the ban set up globally for it to take real effects in fighting the trafficking behemoth. Which will take next 100 years...
(in my country the porn ban is actually a left wing lgbt representant idea so i have a bit different angle here ig)
:
"they weren't trying to keep kids off the site, they were trying to verify everyone's ages"
porn makes you stupid
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velvet lies
pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 7.4k (shorter chap woop) tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter
Year: Early 2018
He hasn’t been answering your phone calls. Or your texts. A growing sense of anxiety and worry forms in your gut. You've trained yourself to push down the more insidious thoughts that threaten your already deteriorating relationship. It’s been a long day for you. From work, to your annoying mother, and now to your M.I.A boyfriend. You wanted to relax at home with a movie and soothing music, maybe even food. However, it’s been hard to eat for the past few weeks.
The last place you wanted to be was at some house party with snobby people who probably never have realized the true meaning of a dollar. The music is loud and the blue lights do nothing but further annoy you, reminding you of just how much you hate parties. Pushing through the throngs of people, either too drunk to high to give your rudeness a huff.
It’s not hard to spot him, but the sight makes you dig your nails into your palms. Feeling bile rise in your throat when a girl—one you’ve never seen before—is getting too close and personal with your man. And worst of all? He’s not even pushing her away. He’s obviously drunk. Still, you assumed he would have that much decency to push back flirting advances from random girls. He always did.
But things have been changing recently, slowly but surely. Ever since that happened.
Your feet work quickly, forcing yourself to stay determined and not break down and cry right now. You’ve been doing too much of that. “Satoru.” You call out, voice loud and firm enough that he swivels his head to meet your eyes on just the first try. The girl does so also, head tilting in a scrutinizing way that you hate. “Are you drunk?”
The tint on his cheeks is proof enough. But so is his lazy grin. “What do you think?”
The girl giggles, leaning into your boyfriend’s arm. Watching her do so sends a wave of fury down your spine. You would have stepped in if it weren’t for Satoru finally being a decent man and pulling away from her. “Sorry, you gotta go.”
“Excuse me?” The girl huffs, scowling in disgust. “For what? I thought we were having a good time.”
So, they were together the whole night, huh? They probably would have stayed together if you didn’t make an appearance. What if they would have taken things further? What if Satoru imitated something? You can already feel the familiar tingle at the back of your throat, turning around and heading back for the door. He follows, grabbing your arm in an attempt to stop you. “Y/N—“
“Don’t.” You grit, yanking your arm away and pushing your way back out to the front of the large house, ignoring some of a drunken couple’s protests as you ruin their make-out session. When you make your way onto the sidewalk, you feel a more insistent tug at your wrist that causes you to face him fully. Meeting his glazed-over eyes with your own teary pair, biting down on your quivering lip. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why are you ignoring me?”
He sighs, running a hand down his face when he lets go of you. “I’m not ignoring you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I should have told you I’d be out. But it was last minute.”
A scoff falls from your lips. “Last minute, huh? Is that what you call it? Hanging around some random girl and acting like you don’t have a worried girlfriend waiting for you?”
“Y/N—“
“Did you cheat on me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your tears now flow freely down your face, eyes red. The expression you adorn does nothing but break his heart. He hates seeing you cry, he always has. And the small, sober part of him is cursing at himself for being such a jackass tonight. But the dominant, drunk side wants no part of an argument tonight.
“No, I didn’t. I’d never.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”
“I want you to be a good boyfriend for once!” You croak out, pushing him back by his shoulders. “Y-you know what I’m going through, you know how hard it’s been. And what do you do? You go out and party, you don’t tell me, and I find some random girl all up on you. And then you smiled like it was funny. D-do you know how much you’re hurting me even more, Satoru?” The trembling of your voice pokes at his heartstrings.
Satoru stares at you, his expression faltering. For a moment, you think you see guilt flicker across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by something colder—defensiveness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, alright? I was just...blowing off steam.”
“Blowing off steam?” you repeat, your voice rising as fresh anger bubbles in your chest. “You call this blowing off steam? Ignoring me? Letting some girl throw herself all over you? You’re unbelievable.”
He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his movements. “What do you want me to do, Y/N? Stay at home and sulk all the time? I can’t—” He stops himself, biting his lip, but you know what he was going to say.
“You can’t what, Satoru?” Your voice cracks again, but this time it’s laced with more rage than sorrow. “You can’t deal with me? With everything I’m going through? You promised you’d be there for me. You said we’d get through this together.”
“I am here for you!” he snaps, but the slight slur in his voice takes the edge off his words. “But you’re acting like I can’t breathe without you questioning every little thing I do. I’ve been going through shit too, Y/N.”
You suck in a shaky breath. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, your fists clenching at your sides. “You know it’s not. If I didn’t care—if I didn’t love you—I wouldn’t be here, trying to fix this.”
He exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N. I swear I didn’t. But I—” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know how to handle all of this, okay? It’s a lot.”
Your breath hitches, his words cut deeper than he probably intended. “You think this isn’t a lot for me too?” you ask, your voice trembling. “I’ve been trying so hard, Satoru. To hold on. To be strong. For both of us. But you’re slipping away, and I don’t know how to bring you back. I know how to handle things just as much as you do.”
He looks up then, his blue eyes clearer now, filled with something that looks almost like regret. For a brief second, you think he might apologize—might say the words you so desperately need to hear. But instead, he shakes his head and says, “Maybe we just need some space.”
The world tilts beneath you. His words echo in your mind, louder than the music still blaring from the house behind you. “Space?” you repeat, barely able to say the word. “You want to take a break?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “I just...I think we’re both hurting each other more than we’re helping.”
You laugh bitterly, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. “No, Satoru. You’re hurting me. You’re the one who stopped trying. You’re the one who’s giving up.” He flinches at your words, but he doesn’t argue. And somehow, that hurts even more. You shake your head, stepping back from him. “If space is what you want, then fine. But don’t expect me to be here waiting when you figure yourself out.”
You turn and walk away, your heart shattering with every step. This isn’t how you imagined the night would go. It isn’t how you imagined your relationship would go. But as you leave him standing there on the sidewalk, you can’t help but wonder if this was inevitable all along.
The same song begins to play. Because soon, his arms are wrapping around you before you even know it, shoving his face into the side of your neck. “No, no, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m drunk, okay? Please don’t leave, please. L-let’s just go home, my parents aren’t there. Please, Y/N. I’m sorry.”
And like a broken record, you give in. Because the broken part of you still craves him. His touch, his comforting hugs, his words. His everything. You feel like a puzzle with pieces too big or small to fit, some pieces lost. But with Satoru, he makes them fit. He finds those pieces of you; the ones you can’t find yourself. In a way, you know things are failing and falling apart.
But you’re laying back in his bed, feeling the constant vibration of your phone. Texts from your mother and you have no doubt she’s blowing up your phone about the way you snuck out and demanding to know where you are. It’s interesting, you’re twenty-one but she treats you like a kid. All because you still live with her.
Your heart feels heavy, your stomach twisting with nausea and you’re not even the drunk one. His hands hold your teary cheeks, meeting your gaze with watery ones of his own. Combined tears wet his pillow until there’s no more to give out. He’s been crying with you, but sometimes it feels fake.
“Did you cheat on me?” You ask again, whispering in a shaky tone.
His lips purse and he shakes his head. “…no, I didn’t. I told you, I’d never.”
You search his face, looking for cracks in the foundation of his words. His sorrowful eyes, flushed cheeks, and trembling hands—all of it feels sincere, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Not so much anymore. “You’re sure?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.
“I’m sure,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I swear to you, Y/N. I’d never do that to you. Never.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear on your cheek, and for a moment, the warmth of his touch almost convinces you.
Almost.
You close your eyes, exhaling shakily as his hands cradle your face. You want to believe him. You need to believe him. But the doubt lingers like a shadow, clawing at the edges of your mind. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” you ask, your voice breaking.
Satoru flinches, his hands momentarily faltering before steadying again. “You’re not losing me,” he says quickly, almost desperately. “I know I’ve been...different lately, but it’s not because I don’t care. I just—” He pauses, his gaze dropping as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know how to handle this, Y/N. I don’t know how to be what you need right now. There’s so much and I…” his voice trails off, fearing he’s saying too much and it’ll only make you feel worse. Make himself feel worse.
Your chest tightens, his confession cutting deeper than you expected. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Satoru. I just need you to try. To be honest with me. To stop shutting me out. You…you’re the only one—you’re all I have right now.”
“I’m trying,” he insists, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “I swear I’m trying. But it feels like...like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. And I hate it. I hate that I’m hurting you.”
The rawness in his voice pulls at something in you, making it harder to keep the walls around your heart intact. You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression mirrors your own. “I don’t want to lose you, Satoru,” you say softly. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m the only one fighting for us.”
“You’re not,” he whispers, his hands tightening slightly on your face as if afraid you’ll slip away. “You’re not, Y/N. I know I’ve messed up, but I’ll do better. I promise. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”
The plea in his voice, the tears in his eyes—they’re enough to make the broken pieces of your heart shift, trying to fit back together even if they don’t quite align. Against your better judgment, you nod, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whisper. “But this is your last chance, Satoru. I mean it.”
“I know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t mess this up. I promise.” But Satoru isn’t the best at promises. He’s only good at making them for others, not keeping them for himself.
As he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you might vanish, you can’t help but wonder how many more promises you’ll let him break before there’s nothing left of you to give. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, hoping—maybe foolishly—that this time will be different. Because he’s all you have. All you know. He knows you inside and out—the way your voice wavers when you’re holding back tears, the way your hands fidget when you’re nervous, the way you laugh like it’s the only thing keeping you from breaking. And you know him just as deeply. Every freckle on his skin, every scar that tells a story, every mole you’ve discovered in moments of intimacy. You’ve memorized him like a favorite book, reading him over and over until the lines blur but still feel familiar.
You two are like each other’s canvases—painted with touches, kisses, and shared memories, even the messy ones. Every fight, every tear-streaked night, every whispered “I’m sorry” adds another layer to the masterpiece that is you and him. But lately, it feels like the colors are running, bleeding into one another until the picture is unrecognizable. And you don’t know if you can fix it, or if you even should. Never did you think that things would change so much, and all because of one failed situation.
What a weak body you have, what a weak person you are.
He holds you tighter, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence. “You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I know I’ve been a mess, but I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”
But his promises feel like paint on a waterlogged canvas—fading, smudged, and far too fragile. Still, you nod, letting the comfort of his warmth lull you into silence. Because no matter how fractured you feel, no matter how much the doubt weighs on your chest, he’s all you have. You can’t handle the thought of facing everything alone now, can’t handle the thought of not having someone to hug you when you burst down in tears.
You hate the way things are now, but you’ve sunk too deep into him. And him the same. Over time, you feel like he will retract his hold from you before you do so yourself. You can almost feel it coming, one way or another. It’s why you’re holding him tighter, pressing your body deeper into his. Because you know you wouldn’t be able to do it yourself. Awaiting the inevitable hurts so bad. Knowing that no matter what, your end is visible. You can see the finish line just a few yards away. It’s like a race, and you’re letting Satoru win. Envisioning him running his long legs to the checkered line with a smile on his face like he’s happy—relieved. You don’t want to hold him, that’s the last thing you want to do. However, you’re being as selfish as you can be right now. Before every privilege is stripped from you in a cold manner that will leave you shivering for warmth. But his presence is something. And for now, that’s enough to keep you here and sane.
Little did you know, you'd win that race before he did. You just needed that little push. He's the hare, and you're the tortoise.
You stay in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a constant reminder of the closeness you’ve always shared. It feels almost like an illusion, the peace between you both. But underneath, there’s a tension that hasn’t quite loosened, a thread pulled tight between the two of you, holding you close but threatening to snap at the slightest tug. His grip tightens, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your two worlds together. The quiet hum of the room feels almost suffocating now. Your phone continues to buzz with your mother’s increasingly frantic texts, but you can’t bring yourself to care about that right now. Not with Satoru’s breath warm on your neck and his hands gently caressing your skin. Not when it’s easier to let him hold you in this fragile moment of peace.
You close your eyes, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. The quietness stays for a long moment, But when he speaks, it’s almost a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth that might spill out.
“I’ll try. I’ll be here for you, Y/N. I swear it.”
You wonder if you can truly believe him this time. If you can let yourself hope that things might really change. But the doubt is a familiar companion, lingering in the shadows, waiting to remind you of the cracks in his promises. Still, for tonight, you let it go. You let yourself sink into him, giving into the small piece of comfort he offers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.
You wake up in a cold sweat, dried tears staining your cheeks. Your stomach feels sensitive, nails already digging into your palms so hard that the skin is growing red and prickly. Every emotion you felt from that dream—nightmare—whatever it was feels ten times more real. You don’t know why you’re having these weird dreams about something from years ago.
But it still hurts all the same, nonetheless.
You still feel hollow, drowned, and ready to pour your heart out into your pillow. But it’s morning and time to get up for bed. Christmas Eve is in three days and you’re just counting down until when you won’t have to go into work. Going through your routine, getting Koji ready for the day, opening the door for Sana. Leaving your place of solitude, it feels like you barely even lived through this morning.
The chill of the morning air hits your skin as you step outside, tugging your coat tighter around you. The weight of your dream lingers, like a fog that refuses to lift. You keep telling yourself it was just a dream, just a memory from a time you’ve tried so hard to bury. But it clings to you like a ghost, whispering doubts into your ear, even as you force yourself to move through the motions. you can’t help but glance up at the sky, the gray clouds reflecting the heaviness in your chest. Christmas Eve is in three days, and you can’t wait to take a break from not just work—from everything.
If only escaping your past was as easy as flipping the calendar to a new year.
Satoru texts you around the 2-hour mark that he’ll be going over to your place soon to see Koji and bring the gifts he got. You let Sana know of the change, she replies back with a simple ‘okay!’
You sigh, willing yourself to forget about the drama your life entails, and focus on your work.
However, another thought is creeping in through the door, and this time—it’s not such a bad one. You feel a fluttering sensation in your gut, holding back a peal of stifled laughter as the memory of last night makes its presence known. After the whole shirt incident, Suguru stayed. He kept his word about not making anything weird, and you two ended with a simple chat and a movie. It felt nice.
Of course, there were hints of lingering peeks, that strange tension tossed up in the air that neither of you fully addressed. But it’s fine, it didn’t mean anything at the end of the day. Although, when it was time for him to leave, you did have a second of hesitation about whether you should hug him or simply say goodbye. He decided for you when he carefully opened his arms up, you followed suit.
Inhaling his scent felt heavenly. Manly, but also feminine at the same time. An earthly scent that felt like hints of incense. The memory of his embrace lingers like the faintest trace of his cologne, warm and comforting. It wasn’t just the way he held you—it was the way he made you feel. Secure. Understood. Like you weren’t just surviving, but living, even if just for that moment.
You haven't hugged a man in so long. You forgot how good they hug.
You shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. It wasn’t anything. It shouldn’t be anything. Suguru’s always been like that—gentle, kind, and just a little too perceptive for his own good. He knew exactly when to stay and exactly what you needed without you even having to say it. Still, you can’t ignore the way your heartbeat picked up when his arms wrapped around you, the way your cheek brushed against his shoulder, and how your fingers had almost lingered a little too long against his back. It felt natural, but also entirely new.
Suguru’s presence was so easy, so effortless. It felt like slipping into an old favorite sweater, soft and familiar but with a spark of something you couldn’t quite place. You’d been so wrapped up in keeping everything together, in pushing through every day for Koji’s sake, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen.
You wonder if Satoru holds the same longing you do.
You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. Don’t think about him. There’s no point in overthinking any of this.
“Hello, you must be Koji’s father.” Sana greets Satoru who stands in the doorway. With him, two armfuls of gifts. Even more on the floor next to his feet.
Simply nodding and looking over her shoulder to see Koji eating his lunch. “And you’re the babysitter.” Without much else, he carefully pushes past her, bringing in the gifts. “Mind getting the rest? Thanks.”
She nods, grabbing what was left on the floor before bringing it in, closing and locking the door. When she turns back around, Koji is in his father’s embrace. She smiles at the scene. “Ms. Y/N told me you’d be coming. He’s been good so far, he’s just eating his lunch now.”
“That’s good to hear,” Satoru replies, pulling away from his son. Doing a quick scan of the place before his eyes land back on the young woman. “How long have you been watching my son again?”
“A couple of years.”
He hums, walking closer to her. “And you’re how old?”
Sana blinks, surprised by the question. "I'm twenty," she says cautiously, her polite smile wavering slightly under his scrutiny.
Satoru raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "Twenty, huh? Pretty young to be taking care of kids."
“I’ve been babysitting since I was sixteen,” she replies, straightening her posture. “I’m studying early childhood education, so it’s not just a job to me. I care about Koji.”
His expression softens a fraction, and he glances back at his son, who’s happily munching away at his sandwich. “He does seem to like you,” Satoru admits, his tone less probing now.
“He’s a great kid,” Sana says warmly. “Very smart, just like his mother.”
That earns her a faint smile. “Yeah, just like his mother.” He crosses his arms, leaning casually against the counter. “So, Y/N told you I’d be stopping by today?”
“Yes, she mentioned it when I got here this morning.”
Satoru nods, tapping his fingers against his forearm thoughtfully. “Good. Thanks for helping out today. I know it’s probably not easy juggling school and babysitting.”
“It’s manageable,” Sana replies, sensing a subtle change in his demeanor. “Koji makes it worth it.”
Satoru’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before he straightens up. “I’ll take over from here. You can go ahead and clock out early if you want.”
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he says, waving her off. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ve got this.”
Sana hesitates briefly, glancing at Koji, who’s still blissfully unaware of the conversation. “Alright then. Have a good evening, Mr. Gojo.”
As she gathers her things and heads for the door, she feels his eyes on her. It’s not hostile, but it’s assessing. Like he’s trying to gauge something about her. She doesn’t dwell on it, though—whatever it is, it’s not her place to question. “Oh!” She turns around as if she just remembered something. “Ms. Y/N leaves a list. It’s taped to the—”
“I don’t need a list to take care of my son.” He cuts her off smoothly, his one eyebrow raising. “Thanks again, have a good day.”
She falters, once again caught a little off guard. This is her first time meeting him, and while she’s of course seen the articles and comments about the drama surrounding the small family, she has no bias. In fact, she sympathizes greatly with you for going through all this alone. As she’s leaving the apartment, she can’t help the small opinion of Satoru that he’s already given her.
He’s so intimidating!
After she leaves, Satoru focuses back on his son—this shitty apartment. He hasn’t explicitly voiced his opinions out to you—of course you already know what they are. And as you said before, it’s all you could afford, and Koji’s happy. However, he can’t stop himself from grimacing at the so-called ‘decorations’. This place needs some serious revamping.
“Hey, buddy?”
Koji looks over, wiping his mouth. “Yes, Papa?”
“When you’re done eating, want to help me with something?” And Koji doesn’t need to be told anymore. He loves helping—especially his mother and father. So he nods excitedly, practically scarfing down the rest of his sandwich. Bubbling with giddiness only a child could have.
Satoru chuckles at his son’s behavior, heart warming. This is the first time he’s doing something festive with Koji. The bitter part of him tells him that he could’ve had more chances to do so if it weren’t for your cowardness. But he shoves that away, focusing on the jolly joy the holidays can bring.
Today was more tiring than usual, with the cafe gaining more attention, there’s been rush after rush after rush. You can handle it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t wear you down by the time you clock out. And your day isn’t even done yet. Slugging your way to your front door, lazily opening it with your key. Tossing your coat on the nearby rack, your bag with it.
“I’m ba—”
You sniffle. One. Twice.
A pinecone-y scent fills your nostrils. Which is strange because you know you have no candles that house that aroma. Confusion, but wariness takes over your senses. Following the sound of laughter down the hall until you’re standing in the living room.
The sight you see is more than startling.
Your eyes dart around in a frenzy, landing on one new thing after the next. The small, simple Christmas tree you’d put up last week? Replaced by a towering, impeccably decorated monstrosity with shimmering lights and a star that looks like it came straight out of a luxury catalog. It barely even fits in the room. Luckily, the small picture ornament of you and Koji is still there. But it looks so out of place.
The garlands you’d strung across the walls? Gone, swapped for lush, sparkling ones adorned with oversized ornaments. Even your modest stockings have been replaced with personalized velvet ones embroidered with gold thread, hanging perfectly above a faux fireplace setup that definitely wasn’t there this morning.
It’s like a winter wonderland exploded in your living room, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or scream.
Koji is sitting on the couch, giggling as Satoru playfully pretends to tangle himself in a string of fairy lights. Your son’s laughter is contagious, but you can’t shake the growing irritation bubbling inside you. When Koji notices you, his eyes brighten even more. Gaping and rushing over to your leg, hugging it. “Mama! Mama! Look what Papa and I did! It’s so pretty and there are so many presents!”
There is. There’s a lot of presents. Practically stacking on top of one another under your refurbished tree. Hidden somewhere in the splurge are the gifts Suguru got for you and Koji.
Gulping, you feel your throat tighten. You feel nothing but overwhelmed. But in the face of your son, you can’t exactly show that. You force a smile as you ruffle Koji’s hair, trying to push down the irritation clawing its way to the surface. “Wow, it’s… definitely something,” you say, your voice strained but managing to sound somewhat amused for Koji’s sake.
Satoru, now untangled from the lights, looks up from the couch with that boyish grin of his. “Do you love it or do you love it?” he asks, gesturing to the extravagant decor like he’s unveiling a masterpiece.
You blink at him, incredulous—but still attempting to keep yourself calm. “What… what happened to the decorations we already had?”
“Oh, those?” He waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s just say they weren’t really up to par. I mean, come on, Y/N. That tree you had? It was like something out of a Charlie Brown Christmas special. I couldn’t let Koji’s holiday spirit suffer like that.”
Your jaw tightens, the forced smile threatening to slip. “So, you just… decided to replace everything? Without asking me?”
He stands, brushing off invisible dust from his jeans as if the weight of his decision is nothing. “You were busy, and I figured you’d appreciate coming home to something nice for once. Besides, look at Koji—he’s thrilled!”
Koji tugs at your sleeve, his wide-eyed excitement piercing through your annoyance. “It’s so cool, Mama! Look at all the shiny ornaments! And Papa let me pick out the star!” Your son runs over to show off a few of the many, many presents he has. Showing extra excitement for the heavier and larger ones. “Papa says it’s magical. I want to have a magical Christmas every time, Mama.”
The words, innocent but heavy, almost make you physically kneel down. You feel your chest tighten, your throat closing up even more. The lump that forms is difficult to swallow down. The implication of Satoru’s and your son's words feels a bit degrading. And you don’t blame it on Koji, he means nothing malicious. But for some reason, being faced with the physical line of difference between you and Satoru, watching your son’s face light up in a way that you’ve never seen before…
It reminds you that your enough has never been enough. Each Christmas, it’s dull. Your Christmases aren’t magical. Your life isn’t.
You feel the weight of it all crashing down like the oversized star on the new tree is pressing on your chest. Satoru's extravagance, Koji's innocent excitement, and your own feelings of inadequacy swirl together into a storm you’re barely holding back.
Your forced smile falters, but you quickly kneel to Koji's level, brushing his hair away from his glowing face. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you say softly, voice trembling but steady enough to reassure him. “I’m glad you had fun with Papa.”
Koji beams, and for a moment, his joy is a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s pretty, isn’t it, Mama?”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “So pretty.” Standing slowly, your hand lingers on Koji’s shoulder. “Really pretty,” you repeat quietly, not committing to anything. You can feel Satoru watching you, his casual demeanor only adding to your irritation. The worst part of it all is that it seems like he genuinely has no idea what he did wrong.
In hindsight, maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t his intention to make you feel like a shitty mother, but Satoru is good at pointing out the differences in his own ways.
When Koji bounds back to the pile of gifts, you finally let yourself meet Satoru’s gaze. “You really didn’t think to talk to me about this?”
His grin fades just a fraction, replaced by a look of confusion. “What’s there to talk about? I wanted to do something special for Koji. And let’s be honest, Y/N—this is special.”
“It’s not about the decorations, Satoru,” you snap, your voice low but sharp. “It’s about you making decisions without considering how I might feel about it. Again.”
He tilts his head, the glower returning, though it feels sharper now. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just Christmas decorations, Y/N. Look at Koji—he’s happy. Isn’t that what matters?”
You clench your fists, the tightness in your chest threatening to spill over into something you can’t control. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about the decorations. It’s about you coming in here and acting like everything I do is subpar. Like I’m not enough.”
The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, Satoru’s expression falters. But he recovers quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the arm of the couch. “Y/N, no one’s saying that. You’re reading too much into this. I just wanted to make things nice for Koji, that’s all.”
Your laugh is bitter, and it catches even you off guard. “Right. Because your version of nice is always the right one. I’m just the placeholder until you decide to step in and fix everything, aren’t I?”
Satoru’s eyes narrow slightly, the playful spark he had with Kojidimming. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” you counter, your voice breaking despite your effort to stay calm. “You swoop in with all your money and your grand gestures, and I’m supposed to just smile and be grateful. But do you even realize how hard I’ve worked to give Koji a Christmas he’ll enjoy? How much I’ve sacrificed just to keep things normal?”
His silence stings more than any retort could.
Koji’s laughter in the background feels distant now, muffled by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s too distracted with the tree, his presents, everything. You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before forcing a calmness you don’t feel. You won’t fight in front of him.
“I’m going to get changed,” you mutter, not waiting for a response.
As you leave the room, Satoru calls after you, his voice softer but no less exasperated. “Y/N, come on. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”
But to you, it already feels like a chasm. One that grows wider with every passing second.
You shut your door, leaning against it with your forehead. Breaths coming in short, hands trembling slightly. Biting your quivering lip, you maneuver your body to change into your uniform. All the while, tears are getting on your hands and clothes. Accidentally, you let out a small, broken whimper.
Quickly, you place a palm to your mouth, stifling and quieting your soft cries. Once you’re done changing, you fall back onto the bed. Curled up with knees drawn to your chest, as the burden of your own self-consciousness rains down on you. The room feels suffocatingly small, your emotions clawing at your throat, demanding to be let out.
The tears come harder now, soaking into the fabric of your uniform as you press your hands to your face, muffling the quiet sobs. You hate this—how easily Satoru gets under your skin, how he makes you feel insignificant without even trying. You thought you were past this. Past him. But somehow, he always finds a way to remind you of all the ways you’ve fallen short. Or at least, all the ways he makes you feel like you have.
There’s a soft knock on the door.
“Y/N?” His voice is muffled through the wood, quieter than usual as if he’s trying not to disturb you. “Are you okay?”
You don’t answer, biting down on your lip to keep from making another sound.
“Look,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “I know I upset you. I didn’t mean to. Can we just… talk?”
For a moment, you consider staying silent, letting him stew in his own discomfort. But the tension is too thick, and you know Koji is just down the hall. With a shaky breath, you push yourself to your feet, wiping at your face in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears. Wiping your face and straightening your clothes, you open the door. “I have work.” You mutter, expertly enforcing a placid emotion. “Will you watch him?”
Without waiting for a response, you walk past him. But he grabs at your wrist, instinctively you pull away. “Stop, just stop, okay? Let’s not fight. We’re adults, we can talk this out. I don’t mean to make you feel less than, I just wanted to make Koji happy.”
“And do you think he’s not happy with me?” You snap back, looking up at him. Feeling your vision already beginning to blur. “Do you? Do you think he’ll be happy with you? I-Is that it?”
Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your outburst, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. The air between you feels like it could snap under the weight of everything left unsaid. His hand hovers near his side, as if he wants to reach out again but knows better now. “No,” he says softly, his voice steady but lined with regret. “That’s not what I meant. Koji is happy with you. He loves you more than anything.”
“Then why do you keep acting like what I do isn’t enough?” you whisper, your voice trembling as you maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve been doing this alone, Satoru. Every scraped knee, every fever, every night when he cries because he’s scared of the dark—I’m there. Not you. Me. So don’t you dare come in here, throw your money around, and act like you can just fix everything with some… Christmas wonderland.”
“But you didn’t let me come in sooner, Y/N.” He replies, exasperation in his voice.
“I know that, and I’m sorry. I know I fucked up…”
“Then stop getting mad at little things.”
Your fists ball up, your expression growing firmer by the second. But so is the need to cry again. He’s right, everything he says is right. It’s your own fault that you’ve been forced to handle everything alone. But, don’t your feelings matter just a little bit in this situation? Is he allowed to just come in and fix up everything you have? What he thinks is a mess, it’s something that holds significance to you. What he thinks is a little thing, it’s a big one in your eyes.
So while this scenario is blowing up into something bigger, your decorations are something you have control of. You only have control over so many things in your life.
He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you, Y/N. I swear. I just… I wanted to give him something special. Something I never had growing up.”
It makes you feel even more guilty. You can’t find it in you to say anything else, turning back around and walking to the living room. “Goodbye, Koji. Mama will see you later.” Giving him a brief hug and kiss, you hurriedly grab your coat and purse, exiting your apartment just as fast as you came.
Unbeknownst to you, Koji is left staring at the closed door. His head tilting in curiosity, while a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. He looks up at his father when he enters the living room again, the two owning matching guises. “Why’d Mama leave so fast? I wanted to show her the drawing we did.” The white paper in his hands pictures three figures. Each one smiling, the smaller boy in the middle holding hands with his two parents on either side of him. He even drew blue snowflakes.
There’s a red heart around them with the words My family! at the top.
Satoru stands there, staring at the door you just closed, feeling the weight of Koji’s innocent question settle on his shoulders. He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he glances down at his son, whose big, curious eyes are filled with disappointment.
“She’s just tired, buddy,” Satoru replies, crouching down to Koji’s level. His tone is softer now, more measured, as he tries to mask the turmoil bubbling under his calm façade. “She’s been working really hard, you know? Grown-up stuff.”
Koji’s frown deepens, his little brows furrowing. “But we worked hard too! We did the tree and the presents and everything!” His tiny hands gesture to the decorated room, his frustration clear. “Mama’s s’posed to be happy.”
Satoru feels his chest tighten at the words. He places a hand on Koji’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “She is happy, Koji. She just… needs some time, that’s all. Grown-ups can be funny like that.”
Koji looks down, fiddling with his fingers before glancing back up. “Is it my fault?”
Satoru’s heart aches at the question, and he immediately shakes his head, pulling Koji into a firm hug. “No, not even a little bit. You didn’t do anything wrong, Koji. Don’t ever think that, okay?”
Koji nods slowly against his father’s shoulder but remains quiet. Satoru pulls back, cupping his son’s face in his hands. “Mama loves you so much, Koji. More than anything in the world. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Okay…” Koji mumbles, still not entirely convinced. He inhaled deeply, then spoke again. “Do…does Mama love you too?”
The question catches him off guard, putting an even bigger weight on Satoru’s shoulders. He should’ve expected it, Koji is a curious kid who still doesn’t completely grasp the complexities of his parents’ relationship. Satoru smiles faintly, kissing Koji’s cheek. “Mama has a lot of love.”
The answer satisfies Koji. For now.
Satoru ruffles his son’s hair. “How about we finish that drawing? We’ll save it for her when she gets back.”
Koji perks up slightly, nodding. “Okay! But you gotta color inside the lines this time, Papa.”
Satoru chuckles, relieved to see even a small smile return to Koji’s face. “Deal. But only if you promise not to make fun of me if I mess up. I’m sensitive.”
Koji giggles, taking his father’s hand to lead him back to the small table. As they sit down to continue their drawing, Satoru steals a glance at the door again, his smile faltering for just a second.
He’s trying—he really is. But he wonders if it’ll ever be enough. It’s like no matter what he does, you don’t like it; and vice versa. He’s being as understanding and nice as someone in his situation can be. At times, he feels he’s being even too nice to you. He knew things wouldn’t be easy, but he wants to spend time with his son. Make up for all the lost time, and even the littlest moments. It’s almost a little bit unfair of you to throw the fact that he has money and you don’t in his face like that. He didn’t ask to be born rich. Just like you didn’t ask to be born…like that. You’re the adults in this situation, there’s a kid involved. So truly, he wishes he could just have a single conversation with you that doesn’t feel anger-surged or bitter. Of course, it’s hard because of what has happened before, but there’s a time and a place, is there not?
Whatever. He’s more than happy to color with Koji and do whatever the little boy asks while you have your own moment. Satoru knows best of everyone else you like having space. And while many years have passed and his feelings for you have grown less than savory, he stills wants to respect your wishes after an argument with him.
He can’t help but think the obvious, though. Is it even worth attempting to mend whatever little shards of semblance there is left with you?
Probably not. Because after all, he’s here only for Koji.
Right?
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I fell in love with my own idea, so surprise! More baby time! >:3
Thinking about my Littlest Wayne au where each of your family members play games with you in different ways:
Dick is 1000000000% IN when you wanna play School or have Tea Parties or play Doctor. He is your student. He is your fellow gossip queen. He is your patient. He's whatever you need him to be and he plays his roles flawlessly. Tell him all the drama while you shop at his grocery store and pretend to paint his nails five minutes later, after which he has a crisis because you diagnosed him with Terminal Cooties. He's fretting over who gets what in the will but also he's the gardener, so he's gotta make his own funeral bouquet when the illness finally takes its toll. How could you do this to him, doc?
Damian will do the practical things with you. He won't play Pretend but he will color with you ("I'm helping them develop fine motor control."), play with Lincoln Logs with you ("It's never too early to take an interest in architecture."), and do puzzles with you ("See, this is an Edge piece. You can tell because one side is flat and doesn't link to other pieces.").
Jason and Tim are down for whatever, but they mostly just supervise you if you decide to play with your toys alone. You go to them if you want some Parallel Playtime. They're nice and calming while still keeping you company.
Bruce routinely decides you've gotten a little too chatty with the fake, other person on the line and gently takes the toy phone from your hands whenever you have it out.
"They're two years old, you son of a bitch," he growls into the plastic receiver, using the Batman voice and everything. Dick wheezes, Damian shakes his head, Jay and Tim are smirking, and you're jumping up and down, making grabby hands for your toy back. "I don't know who you are, but if you ever call here again, I will find you and I will kill you."
(This is his Favorite Bit. You're sick of it.)
Alfred disguises your playtimes with him as just helping with chores. He gives you child-sized brooms and plastic cutting boards and a mini duster, and sends you on missions to battle all the dust bunnies in the nooks and crannies he can't reach, or just gives you easy kitchen tasks like mashing potatoes or licking cookie batter off of the spoon. You're his favorite little helper.
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If you like my content, please consider reblogging! It lets me know you want more!
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