#it was a really good punch he was expecting a compliment

[aldisobey]

🌻 🌹 🌸 🌱 🌼 🌷 🌺 🌿 a full bouquet for Worne xoxo

Full bouquet you say? Take a garden in reply! (Oh fuck it’s a goddamn farm, industrialized flower farm here. Can’t stop won’t stop look at this creature if you like.) Thanks for the asks! Was good to have an excuse to get the history thoughts down for ref! xoxo

I’m putting it below a thing because my soul is witless, brevity what

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them?

Rook ‘Worne’ Thorne is mid-thirties. He doesn’t know his exact age and doesn’t know his birthday. Parents were plenty dead before memories could be formed. Born and grew in Kirkwall, more specifically Darktown, and those early years were simple survival, he doesn’t remember much. But he’s a man in love with life and doesn’t mind making it awkward for people when they ask. ‘Ah shit I forgot! It was yesterday, no one ever remembers’ type stuff.

When it comes to celebrating he would normally do something special around the new year with friends. Gather up those in the same situation and party. A tradition for him in Kirkwall and later at Weisshaupt, he’s far from the only one that doesn’t know their birthday after all. And hey when things are scarce it just makes sense to put all the holidays together and celebrate another year of survival. He loves parties and birthdays, loves celebrating anything really. He’d likely be delighted to pick a special day for himself but the thought would never occur to him. Never really had time to think about it, never thought it would really matter or never saw a need? Like why? Would anyone care about a ‘fake’ birthday’?

As far as gifts go, the one that meant the most was a book he got from Varric as a kid. He credits it, and the dwarf, for his ability to read. And he credits it and the dwarf’s stories for most of his morals and character, he latched onto what he could. So that first one is a keystone, ‘borrowed’ plenty others, but that was his. And as much as he loves all the new grave gold, I think he’d treasure a first edition signed copy of whatever Bellara is writing most if it were about his Veilguard family. Especially if she includes some of the details Emmrich let him share about ‘romance’. He always dreamed of being in one of Varric’s books. Oh, also a handkerchief Emmrich gave him the first day they met. Professor was tired of seeing him use his sleeve. He’s never used the handkerchief.

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

No siblings. And yet all the siblings. He would consider every single Warden a sibling. You’re kin if you undertake the Joining; survive or not. He might be a shit Warden that leaves collapsed buildings in his wake, but there’s always a breath of relief from his peers when they’re assigned to work with him. After all they know the job will get done, they’ll get back alive in one piece, and Worne’ll happily take the fall for any fires he started, or they both started. He delights in pissing off the Warden Commander and holds his position as ‘worst Warden’ with pride.

Greta is a very dear friend, she’s one of the very few (if only) Wardens left from around his entry time. They’ve been on again off again friends with benefits but always strictly platonic.

Antoine and Evka consider him their adult son. Forever a blessed third wheel that might’ve taken too many hits to the head. He’s really hoping they want kids or adopt some after all this Blight business because he wants to be a ‘big brother or uncle’. He’d love to be the Varric for others. He knows he’s not nearly as eloquent, but he can throw you really high into the air and catch you and isn’t that almost as good? He’s made it a personal mission to make sure Mila gets everything she needs and wants because my goodness she could run a country and he owes her his life. That’s his niece right there.

🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

Officially no. Romance has never been a thing he has time for, he was always fascinated by whatever Antoine and Evka had but a future isn’t something a Warden plans for. Didn’t know what real ‘courtship’ looked like in reality. Emmrich confused the hell out of him at first. Worne had relied on his looks and simple flirting to drop hints for ‘wanna bang?’ Something clicked in his head at “Close your eyes. Take a breath.” The thought occurred with a peek, ‘oh this is like the books!’, “Ah.” eyes shut, “Slow. Deep.” and just awash with, ‘This happens?! That stuffs real?’ Cue head over heels for the necromancer.

That said. Near the end of his time in Kirkwall he was working with a more ‘official’ group of criminal young folk. He partnered up for a lot of jobs with an apostate mage. Not many of those around, the group only knew the one, and so they put him in Rook’s care. Guarding a target has always been his specialty, especially if they’re a mage with any healing capability. He’ll take a hit to make sure nothing gets near the caster. Mindset of ‘well if they get you we’re all dead, just gotta kill them in time for you to patch me up’.

Anyways. They were crushing on each other when a job went bad. Everyone dead but them. Rook and mage were given the choice of gallows or Wardens. His friend didn’t survive the Joining. The lich ritual was not a fun thing to experience with that in the back of his head but he hasn’t mentioned that history to anyone. Greta wouldn’t even remember the name of the mage and Rook doesn’t speak of it.

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

Worne nearly killed a Nevarran nobleman. It wasn’t long after the skull fade thing and he was deep into his romance books at that point. They were in the city to pick up some materials for Emmrich, who was off talking with the shopkeeper, when Rook caught an offhand comment nearby. Something about the way the man said Volkarin was off, threatening, dismissive, disrespectful? He’d heard violence like that before.

So he walked on over and quietly, politely asked the noble to explain himself and/or apologize. Rook’s not sure what words were exchanged after that because all he remembers is punching that smug face after them. Laid him out flat. Broke his nose. Honestly Worne wasn’t expecting the noble to fold so quick based on how boldly he spoke. But that head bounce on the ground was bad and the noble likely would’ve died if Emmrich hadn’t rushed over in horror. Rook was ready to finish the job because you don’t leave threats alive. They had words. A lot of words before Emmrich all but demanded Rook wait for him back at the Lighthouse while he dealt with this.

Rook left with a, ‘Fine! Why don’t you fuck him when you’re done kissing his ass?’ Didn’t go to the Lighthouse though because no way in hell he’s leaving that mage alone in danger so he haunted alleyways within sight and showed up just after Emmrich. Many more heated words were exchanged at the Lighthouse. But it led to some deeper talk. They resolved it when Emmrich offered to let Rook hold his hand or the like whenever he felt the need to ‘deal with a threat’ of the sort. Emmrich would handle it peacefully and he’d let go if/when violence was warranted. It’s worked for them since. Lotta threats out there.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

“Smells like earth. Old leather, dirt…blood. Rook’s? Another? Both.”

🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse?

He refuses to disclose his hiding place at the Lighthouse. Only Manfred knew where it was and it’s where they kept their ‘stick stash’ of staves, swords, wands, and daggers Rook would gather in Arlathan for Manfred, nothing like a good stick. And nothin like a good stick fight. Guesses are you have to crawl through a pretty tight tunnel to get there.

Outside of the Lighthouse he’ll find the latest shittiest bar in Docktown. He wants it loud, he wants it crowded, and he wants his crab cakes and beer nuts with nasty beer. He’s found the best place to be alone is in a crowd. Very good at disappearing in such. Often after he’s had his fill he’ll look for a ‘comfy’ spot in the literal streets to nap or sleep for the night. No better place to be invisible than literally in everyone’s view looking destitute. His safe place is literally the most dangerous streets he can find.

🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food)

He has a stone that he found in Darktown (actually features in a blurb). Think worry stone. He found it before he was Rook, so before six. He liked the shape and feel. It’s a simple dull grey oval. Might’ve killed a man with it once. Considers it lucky. He kept that storybook Varric gave him as a kid back at Weisshaupt, but considers it lost after the fortress fell. He’s not too torn up about it, he memorized it anyway, but it still stings.

🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish?

Worne has two tattoos. He got his second in the classic Warden ‘Joining’ style on his right arm, cup and lines and the like. The Wardens still make fun of him for how he sat for it. For a man that’ll take a dislocated shoulder with a grin he is the ultimate baby when it comes to sitting for a tattoo. And it’s not that he thinks it hurts, he just hates needles. Something about a wound that doesn’t leave much a mark unnerves him. He’d likely have more tattoos if he could get over that thought but ew.

His first tattoo is the Kirkwall coat of arms, it’s about five inches and on his upper mid back. He’s not telling you about the third. It’s a small Rook chess piece and he’s not saying where it is. But yeah, plenty of bellyaching from him when he got them all, which is rare for him.

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐖𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐘 3 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. karasu tabito x reader , yukimiya kenyu x reader , otoya eita x reader.

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the moment he realized that he has the biggest crush on you.

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~2.3k words . 0.7k~1.1k words each.

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. drabble for each one. fluff. sprinkle of crack in karasu's one. f!reader. otoya such a hater in karasu's part. yukimiya being lovey-dovey. otoya is... well, otoya. spoiler - free ! safe for minors ! crappy writing. karasu, yukimiya and otoya may seem very ooc. part 1 with isagi, bachira and rin ! part 2 with nagi, reo and sae !

KARASU TABITO. when you complimented him—

　TO say you're beautiful is an understatement, you're literally the most beautiful girl in the class and if not only in class then also in the entire school. Yet if you only have a pretty face to look at, Karasu would definitely call you mediocre with no hesitation.

But of course, you're more than that. You're kind to all your friends and classmates unless you dislike them, you have an extraordinary humor and you also own a mature side as a third-year when talking to an underclassman.

Karasu definitely likes you like everyone do after being charmed by your personality and looks. And he knows that you're in another league, so he doesn't even try to make a move. Even if you're good friends—good friends in, you're eating lunch with him and Otoya.

"Stop trying, you hoe." you furrowed your eyebrows as Otoya's hand crawled to yours, only to get slapped away by you. "You seriously should stop. You have a girlfriend and she's a cute one."

"Why have one chick when you can have two?" Otoya shrugged his shoulders—he stopped you from punching his face. "Hey, we said no punch to the face. I still need this artwork."

"Sometimes I have to urge to beat you up." you huffed, taking you hand back and going back to eat. "I'm going to cut off your weener one day. Watch your back, sleep with open eyes."

"After one night with you, sure." he ignored the expression plastered on your face that displayed plain disgust. "I know you like what you see, babygirl."

"Please— I'd rather pour acid into my eyes than see you." you slowly slid away from him, getting closer to your other forgotten friend.

"And I'd rather that too than seeing you beside that boomer." Otoya didn't hide his frustration as he watched you nearly sitting on Karasu's lap. "I'm going to stab my eyes."

"Can't blame me for being cooler than ya." Karasu shrugged his shoulders.

Otoya puffed the air out of his cheeks before standing up and walking away. "I can't see this anymore." he said—as if he got offended by you two. At the end, he'd come back because he wouldn't leave without finishing his food.

"Fetch me a drink too, peasant!" you said before sliding away from Karasu again. "Sorry for getting so close."

"It's fine."

Silence was taking over the table, making you sweatdrop—was it a good idea for Otoya to leave? As much as you love Karasu, he was being quieter than usual, only staring at your face as if you had something on it.

"Do I have something on my face?" you were a little worried, finished with your food.

"Nah, everything's good." he replied with a smirk, "Just like staring at yer pretty face."

"You have a crush, don't you?" you teased him back.

"What if I do?"

You did not expect that, sealing your lips again at that. Well, isn't that awkward? Your lips drew a fine line as you thought for a moment what you could say, your eyes wandering around his face—in particular his birthmark under his eye.

"It suits you..." you started slowly, "the mole under your eye. I think it compliments your face."

Now he was the one taken aback by your unexpected compliment, blinking serveral times and taking a while to progress what you just said. "Is there... something else ya like?" the heck, he acts as if he really had a crush on you?

"Erm... I like your hair without gel." you admitted. "It looks so good and i'm kinda sad that you always use gel. I also like your eyes, they're sharp. I secretly look at them when you're focused on something.... Oh you're also pretty attentive and remind me of things I don't even remember. And you also help me with chemistry, thanks!"

To say Karasu was surprised now is a big understatement—bigger than big, he even took a moment to think of an answer. "Sounds like yer the one with a crush." he chuckled, slightly amused as a grin was plastered on his lips.

"Probably." the smile you gifted him was probably heavensent.

"I'm coming back to this? Are you serious? You two are flirting infront of me." Otoya deadpanned and sat down, pushing Karasu to the side while giving you your drink.

"Thanks." why the heck was Karasu thanking him? "I think my legs were a bit jelly."

He could literally feel how his legs were getting weak at your words from before.

Seems like Karasu Tabito isn't that mediocre.

YUKIMIYA KENYU. he doesn't crush on you, he loves you—

　WELL, there are moments where he considers himself rotten on the inside, always thinking about himself and caring about lives of important or famous people while not taking any interest in the lives of others. It's his weakness. Probably the only weakness about him.

That was before you popped up in his life one day after he got into high school. To start off, you weren't someone special. The typical classmate whose reputation and grades are decent—you were a background character.

It was always that way and always stayed like this. Until you confessed your love for him under the cherry blossom tree of the school. Again, a typical scenario in mangas he read. But he rejected you, still being kind and gentle throughout the rejection.

And surprisingly, you accepted it with no complaints, giving him your prettiest smile even though you tried to ignore the burning pain in your eyes while he returned a smile—a smile that didn't reach his eyes though.

He was curious. Curious about your surprising demeanour. How could you smile so brightly after getting rejecting? He could see how red your face got because of the embarrassment. Yukimiya Kenyu was for the first time, curious about someone who crushed on him.

But yeah, of course you couldn't help it to smile despite the rejection. It was the first time you mustered up your courage to tell your crush what you felt about them and you couldn't be more glad that it was Yukimiya Kenyu you confessed to.

Because he wasn't awkward at all, handling the situation like a professional—as if he experienced this more than once in his life. Which you don't doubt since he wasn't only popular in your class, he was popular around the entire school.

You never thought you had a chance anyway so you didn't take it to heart. Only when he asked you if you wanted to be friends, that's when you took it to heart. Who the heck would be friends with someone they rejected?

This might not be a bad idea though. No wonder why he rejected you. You didn't know each other at all. If that was even possible, your smile widened, the shyness and blush faded ever so slightly as you nodded with a beaming aura.

And this time, the smile of his reached his eyes.

Fast forward, two years seemed to pass quickly with you two growing to be great friends. If not great friends, then even best friends! You never thought that you could be friends with someone who used to be your crush, but you're so glad.

After that day, he seemed friendlier than usual, always greeting you as soon as you or he stepped a foot into the classroom, even being the first person he greets instead of his buddies. Not even the slightest moment was awkward with him.

And when he told you, during a phone call, about the blue lock program he's been invited to, you couldn't have been happier for him! Immediately cheering for him and bouncing up and down on your bed to congratulate him.

"But that also means, we won't see each other for a while, because I'm in a football prison." he mentioned, his voice sounded sadder than before.

"Oh man, that's really sad. I'll miss you so so so much!" your face heated up at your own words, "but well... That's the price you have to pay for entering such awesome program!"

"An expensive one."

You think your ears were playing games with you to be honest.

　RING RING !

Yukimiya wiped the water off his mouth as he called you—after a few days. As soon as he found out that he can get his phone back in exchange for three goals, he couldn't help but go all in during the first match to give you a call, wanting to be in contact as quickly as possible.

"Uh Yukimiya-san, wanna train with us?" his team mates asked him.

Surprisingly, you still didn't answer though after the first two rings. "Maybe she's sleeping..." he muttered under his breath before looking up from his phone to answer his team mate, "Sure, why not?"

　RING !

"Nevermind." Yukimiya smiled without looking apologetic and turned his back to them, making them sweatdrop.

"Sorry! I fell asleep while taking care of some things..." you immediately apologized, sounding like you were sleeping just seconds ago.

"Ah, I should be the one to say sorry for waking you up. Didn't mean to wake you up..." he apologized too, worried about your health. "You shouldn't tire yourself out so much even if you're the student council president."

"I know, Kenyu..." you mumbled into the speaker, barely audible. "But it's my last year... I wanna give it my all."

That's what he likes about you. It's the same motto you follow.

You finally sat up from your seat, your back felt like shit after laying on the table for hours. "How's that uh program?" you questioned, wiping your drool away as you placed your phone to the side, now continuing with your duties.

"It's interesting to be honest. Don't tell anyone, but my team mates still aren't on my level..." he whispered playfully.

"Damn..." you chuckled and carefully cut the piece of paper into fine squares.

"Can you..." he paused slightly, "turn on the camera?"

Your motions came to a stop as he asked you, presumably wanting to see your face that resulted in you blinked multiple times. "Nah... I just dozed off and drooled. There's no way I'm showing you my face..."

It was an excuse. You didn't want him to see you heated up face and certainly not the glassy eyes—you feared that if he saw you like this, he would get the idea that you still liked him. A lot more than a friend should.

"Please." he said it in a way that made it impossible for you to say no. "I want to see your face."

"Erm, you saw me a few days ago..." you trailed off, cupping your face to cool down your cheeks with cold hands before doing what he wanted.

"Thanks."

"Of course..." you quickly returned to your task, trying to cover your face as much as possible with the paper. "A-Ah so..! There's a new song I like. It has this like catchy tune and it's stuck in my mind twenty-four seven. It's called..."

To be honest, Yukimiya intends to follow his motto to »give one's all in every moment« when it's about you. And he also is glad that your youth isn't an ephemeral thing, your smile isn't short-lived. It's good.

Yukimiya wants to see it everyday.

OTOYA EITA. when he noticed he's stuck to you—

　IT'S definitely been over three months since you've been dating. While he's been using you for fun and all, you're being genuine and sincere. That's what he thought. Somehow, he's still stuck in the relationship he himself suggested.

And well, time passed with you so quickly somehow, making him look at his phone. His lockscreen to be more precise. A silly picture you secretly took with his phone while he wasn't watching, a picture he grew to love.

His eyes quickly went over the numbers and words he added to the photo. Numbers that told him when you started dating, letters that reminded him how he always called you those cheesy nicknames. His eyes shifted over the current date, comparing those two dates slowly. And he noticed something.

Five months already passed.

That means one hundred fifty days already passed since he's been dating you, three months over the limit. Sixty days over the limit. He bets that he could've had two to three other girls already if you weren't there.

But somehow, he can't bring himself break up with you. Why are you two still together? He doesn't remember dating someone because he crushed on someone. He dated because it was fun and three months was the limit before breaking up.

Otoya does not want to get attached to someone that could drag him down. He doesn't chain himself up for someone else. That's why he decided on the three months rule—fearing that if he didn't break up, he would forever be stuck with one and the same person.

Something happend what he feared the most. Growing attached to someone that could possibly weight him down. Surprisingly he didn't even cheat on you yet. And the fact is, he doesn't even like you that way! He doesn't like like you, he likes you.

"Shit." he cursed, placing his phone next to his bed on the nightstand. "I can't even look at another girl."

That's right. He can't even glance into another direction. Whenever he's out with you, he can't help but stare at you and he doesn't let his eyes roam at another figure when a hot chick walks pass him—his eyes stay glued to your form.

"I sound like a damn simp." he used his hand to cover the upper part of his face, hiding his eyes from the light.

Maybe he is. Not only maybe, he is a simp when it was about you. And it doesn't help when Karasu once told him that he had damned heart eyes trailing after you. The hell? He never looks at you when you only pass by and he knows how bad he's at lying.

Otoya Eita is drained to be honest. He's drained because he doesn't know what happend to himself.

"—Earth to Eita?" your hand was almost touching his face as you moved it up and down swiftly to get his attention. "Hey, I asked for your opinion."

"Huh?" he mumbled, blinked as his eyes drifted to the two shirts you were holding.

One was in a sweet [f/c] and the other one was black—but the pattern was pretty cute too. "Both would look good one you." he answered the question truthfully.

He remembers all too vivid how he always lied about his opinion—every time his exes asked for his opinion about two things to choose from, he told them the exact reply they wanted to hear, pleasing them in that way.

It's different with you though. He isn't sure what you want to hear. He only knows what would've suited you better. "Yeah, both would look..." he paused for a moment, his eyes showing that he was in daze, "amazing on you..."

Careful. A word stuck on his mind, living rent-free. He always minds to keep a careful distance, because he knows you were serious about relationship and love all that. He tried to be careful but suddenly, he tripped and fell.

On the other hand—you know his history about relationship and exes. Yet here you are, holding up two shirts for your boyfriend so he can pick one with the happiest smile adorning your lips while in the back of your mind, you knew that rotten side of him.

"Why are you still with me?" he blurted out accidentally. He didn't mean to ask his question out loud.

"Ah..?" your hands lowered at that, your smile faded slightly.

"I'm an asshole." no doubt, he was an asshole. "I could probably cheat on you whenever I want. Tomorrow, next week, next month..."

"Well, are you?" now it's your time to ask even though you didn't answer yet.

"No." how could you believe him?

"Then it's fine. It's fine if this only lasts for today. Or tomorrow." you chuckled. "At the end, we're still together somehow."

"Right..." he blinked for a moment, his heart never pounded like crazy. He felt stupid for asking. He felt stupid for doubting. He felt stupid for breaking his own rule. But he didn't mind that much. After all, he broke it for you.

"Mama Otoya is waiting for us. Come on, hurry up!"

Right. Otoya will do his best so you can enjoy today and worry tomorrow.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — pls check my watty out I'M ONLY ACTIVE THERE (lie).

[celesteleoves]

Can I req Kirishima being insecure and afraid to show his s/o his dorm room after Hagakure said “If I found out my boyfriend had a room like this, I’d dump him.”

“OH, LET THE LIGHT IN.”

ೃ࿐ kirishima eijirou x reader

summary: after a comment hagakure makes about your boyfriends room, he avoids letting you in to see it.

warnings: tinyyyy bit of angst but fluff otherwise! set during a sunset/ he afternoon. it’s kinda short.. AND NOT PROOFREAD!!

-

“if i found out my boyfriend had a room like this, i’d dump him.”

kirishima ran a hand over his face, feeling insecure about the design of his dorm room.

he currently sat on his bed, hands resting on his knees and covering his face. kirishima was never one to be embarrassed about his so called “manliness.”

yet, as soon as his classmate made a comment about it and how he decorated his room to display it: he hasn’t wanted to let anyone into his room. not even his own girlfriend.

you unfortunately weren’t there the day hagakure and many others made a comment about his room. so, you haven’t seen it just yet but you have been constantly asking him about it.

he’s seen yours. you want to be able to see his to get a feel of his life. everyone’s dorm matched them perfectly and represented them in a way. you felt your boyfriends dorm would be the same way.

he wouldn’t budge, completely ignoring you when you asked.

kirishima sighed and picked up his phone, reading your text.

‘i’m coming over! can’t wait to see you (and your dorm). 💗’

you were too good for him, he thought.

“shit.” kirishima spoke, beginning to sweat about your opinion on his room. hagakure really got to him.

knock, knock, knock.

he jumped, wiping his hands on his pants and anxiously standing up to open the door for you.

the door swung open and you beamed at the sight of your boyfriend but not before he hurriedly pushed you away and slammed his door shut, now standing outside of his dorm.

“uh, what’s up?” you tilted your head as he leaned back against his door, blocking you from going in.

“i think we should hang in your dorm. it’s much more comfy than mine!” kirishima awkwardly laughed while you frowned.

��babe, let me in. i haven’t even got to see your dorm and the rest of the girls have?!” you said, regretting your words after your boyfriend reacted to them.

kirishima frowned deeply, he felt so weak and embarrassed right now. “i just- i don’t think you’ll like it.”

“what? i like everything of yours, eijirou. don’t think like that.” you smiled at him and motioned for him to open the door.

his composure dropped as he succumbed to your words.

“just-” he sighed, “don’t be mean, please.”

you gave him a soft smile and nodded excitedly.

he opened the door with his head down, not wanting to see your weirded out expression that a lot of the other girls wore when he showcased his room.

you instead squealed, rushing in and immediately went towards his punching bag.

“how long did it take for you to install this?” you grinned as you pushed it around, turning to look at your boyfriend who stared at you in shock.

he would’ve thought you’d make fun of his room and his choice of decor but instead you were admiring it…

“i- what?!” he exclaimed, not expecting you to ask him that. he had expected you to insult him.

“i said, how long did it take for you to install this?”

“an hour or so.”

“you’re so strong. i love how your room fits you perfectly.” you complimented, moving to sit on his bed comfortably.

kirishima blushed, your compliments making him smile a toothy grin.

he moved to lay sit next to you. suddenly, he wasn’t so anxious anymore.

you fiddled with his sheets and began getting comfortable in his bed, not noticing your boyfriend gazing at you. you turned to him, making eye contact.

“what?” you quietly laughed, admiring the boy infront of you.

“some of our classmates made comments about my room, that’s why i didn’t want you seein’ it.”

“i love your room and everything about you. ignore them. shoto and you are the only ones with nice rooms but in my opinion, yours is better!” you grinned, moving to place your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you.

“i knew it!” you felt him laugh, his words making you grin against his chest.

there really was no reason for him to dislike his room, it was the best dorm room out of all your classmates. it had one thing all of them didn’t.

it had the ability to make you feel at home.

-

a/n: whoever requested this, ily. please send in more. this is so pure and i hope i wrote this to your liking!

SEND REQUESTS! 🤍

[gojoux]

『 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo is absolutely enamoured by you, even from the smallest thing you do, he’s always there to compliment you.

· CW: 5.2k // Fluff. Slight hurt/comfort. A bit suggestive. Being Gojo’s girlfriend means having a whipped boyfriend.

When you’re training by yourself.

You took a deep breath as you adopted your fighting stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised and ready. Focusing your cursed energy to enhance your physical prowess, you began your training regimen, flowing through the intricate movements you had practiced countless times before. Your body twisted and turned gracefully as you performed each strike and kick with perfect form, having honed your skills through years of diligent work.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you moved through the rigorous routine, not allowing yourself to slow down. With each punch, you visualize an enemy being struck down. With each kick, you imagined yourself growing stronger and more agile. The exertion left your muscles burning, but you pushed through, determined to improve.

After finishing the last set, you finally allowed yourself a moment of rest, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A sense of satisfaction washed over you at having completed such an intense workout. You knew all that effort was making you a better sorcerer.

“Look at you go,” a whistle was heard behind you.

You turned to see Gojo walking up, an admiring grin on his face. Even with his eyes obscured, you could tell he was looking you over appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Just trying to stay in shape.”

“You kidding? You’re in incredible shape!” he said. “The way you moved was like watching poetry in motion.”

You smiled, flattered by his high praise, and happy to have your efforts recognized. As one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers alive, compliments from Gojo meant a lot.

“I still have a long way to go before I’m anywhere near your level.”

“Of course,” he grins cheekily.

“But your dedication to training is really paying off, you know? Just look at how toned your arms are now,” he emphasized his point by gently grasping your arm, squeezing your bicep.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away.

He laughed playfully. “What? I can’t help but admire my girlfriend’s incredible physique.”

You shook your head in amusement. Only Gojo would be shameless enough to fawn so openly over your body. But his compliments, as ridiculous as they were, filled you with motivation. Knowing he was watching and supporting your efforts spurred you to work even harder.

“Alright, lover boy, as much as I’d love to hear more about how attractive you find my sweaty post-workout look, I need to get cleaned up.”

“Need someone to wash your back?” he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a pointed look.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said, raising his hands.

You gathered your things and started heading towards the showers. As expected, Gojo fell into step beside you, seemingly not done singing your praises yet.

“In all seriousness, you’re really good. I mean it,” he continued earnestly.

Warmth rushed through you with his heartfelt words. “Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “But honestly, it’s not anything extraordinary, stop complimenting me too much over that.”

“Heh, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied. “My girlfriend’s a total badass who’s only getting more incredible every day. What can I say, I’ve got an eye for talent,” he added with a cocky wink.

You laughed, giving him a light shove. “You’re too much.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, smiling up at his handsome face. “Yeah, I really do.”

When you’re on your mission.

The dark alley was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cramped passageway. Your footsteps were light and cautious as you scanned the area, senses on high alert. You were tracking a cursed spirit that had been terrorizing this neighborhood, attacking innocent civilians.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, it was your duty to stop threats like this.

Up ahead, you spotted your target—a grotesque, hulking creature with twisted features and elongated claws. It had a young woman pinned against the alley wall, ready to strike. With no time to lose, you leaped into action.

“Hey! Over here, ugly!” you shouted, firing off a blast of cursed energy to get its attention. The creature turned with an angry roar as you placed yourself between it and the cowering woman. Adopting a fighting stance, you are prepared to take it head-on.

The cursed spirit charged, swiping at you with ruthless force. But you were ready. With agile movements, you dodged and weaved, avoiding its attacks while looking for an opening. When you saw your chance, you struck—aiming your cursed technique at its chest sending it stumbling back.

Not letting up, you pressed your assault, pummeling the creature with your attacks. It tried to fight back but was no match for your superior speed and skill. With a final, devastating blow, you landed the finishing move, obliterating the cursed spirit in an explosion of energy.

Panting, you turned to check on the woman you had rescued. “Are you alright?” you asked gently to calm her down.

She stared at you with gratitude. “Th-thank you! You saved me!”

You smiled warmly, helping her to her feet. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

After escorting her from the alley, you headed off to report your completed mission, satisfied at having eliminated the threat and protected an innocent life.

As you walked, a familiar voice suddenly spoke up behind you.

“Great moves back there,” he grins, walking towards you with his hand in his pocket. Looks like he got it easy on his task.

You turned to see Gojo beaming at you proudly. “When I felt that burst of energy, I knew it had to be you kicking some cursed spirit booty. And I was right.”

You laughed at his dramatic phrasing. “All in a day’s work. I’m just glad I got there in time.”

“Let me guess, you finished earlier and spied on me ‘kicking cursed spirit’s booty’,” you crossed your arms playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“Yeah, it was a good show.”

Gojo stepped closer, gazing down at you admiringly. “It’s also that compassion that makes you such an amazing sorcerer,” he said. “You’re always focused on protecting people, even at great risk to yourself.”

His tone turned a bit calmer. “Watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like that… it scares me sometimes.” He gently caressed your cheek. “But it’s also one of the things I love most about you. Your drive to help others.”

You placed your hand over his, touched by his heartfelt words. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep people safe. I just have to.”

He smiled. “I know. And you do it with such skill too. The way you took down that cursed spirit was awesome. Your technique control has gotten better.”

“High praise coming from the strongest sorcerer around.”

“I’m just being honest here. You would’ve given me a run for my money, I bet."

You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is and take me on sometime?” you challenged playfully.

A devious grin crossed his face. “Is that a date? You know I love any excuse to get handsy with you.”

You laughed, giving him a light shove. Even after a tiring day, he could always lift your spirits.

“Maybe later,” you said, taking his hand. “For now, how about lunch? Fighting cursed spirits really works up an appetite.”

“It’s a date then!” he instantly entwined his fingers with yours. As you walked off together, he added, “You take my breath away, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Aww, aren’t you my own personal hype man?” you teased.

“Always!” he declared with his usual wide grin.

When you’re dressed up for a date.

“Satoru, can you come here for a second?” you called out from your bedroom.

“Be right there!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Gojo stepped into the doorway, a signature grin on his face. “What’s up?”

You turned to him with a shy smile. “I just finished getting ready for our date tonight. Wanted to get your opinion on the outfit before we head out.”

It was your anniversary, and Gojo was taking you somewhere nice. You had agonized over what to wear, trying on ten different dresses before finally settling on the dress you’re wearing right now with delicate jewelry and heels to complete the elegant look.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses as he took in your appearance. “Wow…” he breathed, staring openly. “You look… beautiful.”

Your face heats up at his praise. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely stunning,” he affirmed, moving closer. His hands came to rest on your waist, head tilting as if to see you better from all angles. “This dress is perfect on you. It hugs your body just right.”

One hand slid sensuously down your side to emphasize his point. You hold his hand still with flushed laughter. “Down. boy. Keep it PG for now,” you chided playfully.

He held up his hands in acquiescence, though the desire in his gaze was palpable. “PG. Got it. I’m just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend’s breathtaking beauty.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but his compliments made your heart flutter.

“The way the fabric drapes over your body…” he continued to admire you, “It’s like each detail was designed to accentuate your natural assets.” His voice dropped an octave. “Truly mouthwatering.”

“Satoru!” You swat his chest this time from embarrassment.

He grinned unrepentantly. “What? Can you blame me for being so captivated by you? You’re a vision right now. I’ve got the hottest date in town tonight, that’s for sure.”

You smiled, mollified by his sincerity beneath the teasing remarks. No one could make you feel as special and desired as Gojo.

“Think you can control yourself through dinner at least?” You asked archly.

He laughed. “I make no promises. But I’ll do my best to keep public groping to a minimum,” he replied with a wink.

Taking your hand, he led you downstairs and out the door, ever the gentleman. As you slid into the car though, his composure momentarily slipped.

“You look unbelievable in that dress,” he blurted, eyeing you up and down. “The things I want to do…”

He trailed off with an exaggerated groan. You dissolved into laughter, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. Only Gojo could be so simultaneously sweet and shameless.

Dinner was an intimate, romantic affair. Gojo was on his best behavior, focused entirely on you. His compliments came often, praising everything from your smile to your witty banter. By dessert, you were practically glowing under his constant stream of adoration.

“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” He murmured, grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “Because you are dazzling, baby. I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You bite your lip, smile stretching wide. No matter how many times he said it, those words never got old.

The ride home was charged with anticipation. Gojo’s hands, so well behaved earlier, now roamed your body eagerly. Your pulse quickened as desire ignited.

Once inside, his control broke entirely. You found yourself pressed against the foyer wall, his mouth hot on your throat.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night,” he rasped into your skin. “This dress should be illegal… even the way you walk in it got me feeling hazy.”

You sighed blissfully as his lips and hands explored. When Gojo wanted you, he made sure you felt cherished, beautiful, and desired. It was intoxicating.

Later, lying enveloped in his arms, he nuzzled into your hair. “Have I mentioned you look sexy as hell in that dress?”

“Only about a hundred times tonight.”

“Well let’s make it a hundred and one,” he replied, rolling you beneath him to properly worship every tantalizing detail.

No matter the occasion, Gojo never failed to make you feel like a goddess. His passion and praise knew no bounds.

When you failed your mission.

The cursed spirit’s claws tore through flesh and bone before you could react. The young boy’s scream pierced the air, then suddenly went silent as his broken body hit the ground. Shock rooted you in place for a critical moment before rage took over. With a cry, you unleashed the full force of your power, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant.

But it was too late. The child was gone, his sightless eyes accusing you of failure. Sinking to your knees, anguish crashed through you in waves. You were supposed to protect him. Instead, your hesitation had cost an innocent life.

By the time Gojo arrived, you were numb with grief. He assessed the situation swiftly before kneeling and enveloping you in his arms. You collapsed against his chest, finally releasing the tears you had been holding back.

He didn’t speak, just held you close and let you cry. There was no judgment in his embrace, only compassion. So you wept bitterly for the life lost, for your mistake, for the cruelty of this world.

When the torrent finally passed, Gojo gently wiped the moisture from your cheeks. “Talk to me,” he said simply.

Haltingly, you explained what happened. The guilt was a crushing weight on your heart.

“I should have been faster. I could have saved him,” you choked out.

Gojo gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me. This was not your fault.” His voice brooked no argument. “You didn’t hesitate from incompetence or cowardice. It was empathy. You saw a scared child and your first instinct was to protect, not attack. That compassion is what makes you an amazing sorcerer.”

You shook your head bitterly. “A lot of good it did him.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Gojo said sadly. “As much as we try, we can’t prevent every tragedy. What matters is that you care so deeply, that you refuse to harden your heart, even when it hurts this much.”

You wanted to believe him, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, a constant reminder of your failure.

Sensing your doubt, Gojo took your hands in his. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Don’t let this make you afraid to keep caring. There are so many people out there who need that compassion.”

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “This pain… means your humanity is still intact. That’s something to be proud of.”

A sob caught in your throat as you clutched his uniform jacket, anchoring yourself in his steadfast strength. The grief was still raw and raging, but his words lit a faint glow in the dark. Not of absolution, but of hope. That you could keep fighting and caring, without losing yourself.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”

The next few days were filled with more tears, self-doubt and sleepless nights. But Gojo remained your constant companion, providing reassurance when the shadows loomed.

His praise never wavered. Each time you began slipping back into despair, he was there with an uplifting word.

Slowly, the light began to return to your eyes. Gojo’s unrelenting positivity and belief in you provided a lifeline to cling to. He reminded you of your own strength, even when you doubted it.

Not long after that day, Gojo took you out to dinner. Upon returning home, he presented you with a single white lily.

“This is to honor that boy’s memory,” he explained. “But also to show you that beautiful things can still grow, even from tragic circumstances.”

You accepted the flower, eyes stinging with bittersweet tears. Looking up at Gojo, you found no trace of pity there, only love.

“Thank you,” you whispered, for this gesture, and for everything he had done to see you through the darkness.

He kissed your forehead tenderly. “You never have to go through anything alone. I’m always here.”

Clutching the lily close, you rested your head against Gojo’s heart.

When you’re happy.

You stared down at the official letter, reading the words over and over. You have been chosen by a revered sorcerer in Hokkaido for a mission that requires your skill. Better yet, you have always admired this sorcerer.

One in a million opportunity. It makes you feel special to have someone notice you to the point they requested for you because they need your skill. Just maybe, you’d have the opportunity to be trained by that sorcerer to improve yourself.

Hands shaking, you looked up at Gojo, seeing his face lit up with a brilliant smile. In an instant, you were swept off your feet as he spun you joyfully around the room. You clung to him, dizzy with euphoria.

When he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m such a proud boyfriend,” he said. “All that hard training paid off, huh?”

Happy tears pricked your eyes. Having Gojo’s wholehearted support and belief in your abilities meant everything.

You can’t help but pull him down into a fierce, grateful kiss. His arms immediately enveloped you, lips curving into a smile against your mouth. When you finally broke for air, foreheads touching, the depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away.

In the weeks that followed, Gojo went out of his way to celebrate your accomplishment at every opportunity.

There were bouquet deliveries to your door, with notes reading:

“To the future best jujutsu sorcerer!”

Gifts would arrive filled with your favorite treats:

“For my hardworking girlfriend who deserves something sweet!”

Even when you were curled up on the sofa, just spending a quiet night, he would randomly take your hand and announce:

“I’m the luckiest guy alive to be with you.”

His little displays of pride and support never failed to make you smile. Gojo genuinely reveled in your success as if it were his own. Your joy brought him joy, a sentiment you fully reciprocated.

On the morning you were to start the intensive program, Gojo made you a lavish breakfast in bed. As you ate, he detailed an elaborate training regimen to prepare you for the challenges ahead.

“And I’ll be your personal sparring partner of course. Have to keep those combat skills razor sharp!” He grinned. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You laughed. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

His expression turned serious then. Taking your hand, he met your eyes earnestly. “You’re going to do amazing things, I just know it. And I can’t wait to stand back and watch you shine.”

Emotion clogged your throat. No matter how far you go in this field, Gojo will always be your biggest supporter.

“As cheesy as it sounds... as long as you’re by my side, I know I can handle anything,” you told him with a rather bashful smile.

He smiled softly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

Leaning in, he kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, his usual cocky smirk was firmly back in place.

“Now finish up. Time to go show off why you’re the badass jujutsu sorcerer they’re lucky to have!”

When you’re sick.

A violent cough wracked your body as you huddled under the blankets, trying in vain to get warm. Your head was pounding, your throat raw, and your limbs heavy with fatigue. The flu had hit you hard and fast, leaving you miserable and bedridden.

A light knock at the door heralded Gojo’s arrival. He poked his head in, his usual playful grin replaced by a look of concern.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You offered a weak smile. “Been better,” you croaked out before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Gojo rubbed your back soothingly until the spasms passed. “Sounds nasty. Let me get you some water.”

He returned swiftly, helping prop you up to take small sips. The liquid soothed your inflamed throat but did little for the chills wracking your body.

Noticing your shivers, Gojo piled on more blankets and slid in behind you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body enveloped you, finally easing some of the shudders. You sank gratefully into his embrace.

“There we go, just rest,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking your hair. You sighed, comforted by his presence.

Gojo wasn't usually one for tender quiet moments. His boundless energy and shameless mouth tended to dominate any interaction. But now, he was the picture of care and concern—keeping his touch light, his voice quiet and soothing.

You were moved by this rare glimpse of his gentle side. Having someone see you like this—sweaty, sick and pathetic—would normally make you self-conscious. But with Gojo, you felt safe letting your guard down completely.

“Sorry you have to see me like this,” you mumbled.

He tilted your chin up. “Nonsense. You’re beautiful no matter what.” His thumb lightly caressed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to be vulnerable.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and not from the fever. Even wrecked by illness, he could still make you feel cherished.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whispered.

He grinned. “I ask myself that every day.” Dipping his head, he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “Now, hush. No more talking, just rest.”

You settled against him once more, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart. Time passed in a haze of fitful sleep and coughing fits, but Gojo stayed dutifully by your side.

When the chills returned, he bundled you uptight, acting as your own personal furnace. He patiently fed you soup and medicine, made sure you were hydrated, and kept the tissues handy.

True to form, he also kept up a constant stream of praise and encouragement.

“There’s my tough girl, fighting this nasty bug off.”

“Even under all those blankets, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Look at you powering through these coughs like a champ!”

His little comments never failed to make you smile. Only Gojo could find something positive even in your current state.

After two days of attentive care, your fever finally broke. The aches and fatigue gradually receded until you were able to sit up without assistance.

Gojo beamed at you. “There she is! Knew you could kick this flu’s butt.”

Taking your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and his eyes shone with affection. “I’m so proud of you for pushing through this. You’re strong.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

He waved it off. “I just gave you a nudge. You did all the hard work.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed at you earnestly. “Never doubt your strength, or hide your struggles from me, okay? Ask me anything, I’ll give them all to you.”

You nodded, heart brimming with love for this man.

When you’re annoyed at him.

“Satoru, I swear if you don’t stop messing around I’m going to—argh!” you yelled in exasperation.

The infuriating man just laughed, dancing easily out of your reach as you swiped at him. He had been pestering you all morning with juvenile pranks and teasing remarks, fraying your last nerve.

“Aww, is someone a wittle gwumpy today?” he taunted in a baby voice.

You saw red. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground. Caught off guard for once, he landed hard on his back with a grunt. You pinned him in place with your body weight, glaring down at him.

“Call me grumpy one more time and I’ll show you just how nasty my mood is,” you growled.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

“Well, damn, baby. I love it when you get feisty with me,” he purred. His hands came up to grip your hips suggestively.

You swatted them away in irritation. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still mad at you.”

Rolling off him, you crossed your arms with a huff. Gojo sat up, smile fading.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for riling you up too much,” he grins. “Didn’t realize you were actually that annoyed with me.”

Your anger deflated at the apology. He may act like a brat sometimes, but Gojo is always quick to make amends when he crosses a line—well, only for you, at least. (Don’t tell Geto and Utahime about this!)

With a sigh, you uncrossed your arms. “It’s fine. I overreacted too.” Glancing over at him sheepishly, you added, “And I know I’ve been… prickly lately. The stress has just put me in a bad mood.”

Between juggling studying, missions, and training, you had been spread thin. Gojo’s antics had been the last straw.

He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve realized you needed me to dial it down and help you decompress.”

Leaning into him, you gave a tired smile. “Well, tackling you did feel pretty therapeutic, actually.”

Gojo’s laughter rumbled against you. “See? Violence solves everything!” he joked, squeezing you playfully.

You push his chest slightly, but couldn’t help chuckling too. Only Gojo could vex you one minute and make you laugh the next.

He pressed a conciliatory kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, why don’t you go take a nice long bath to relax while I make us dinner?”

The offer was extremely tempting after the high-stress week you’d had.

“That does sound really nice,” you admitted. “But you don’t have to cook, I’m sure I could throw something—”

He held up a hand. “Nope, you just focus on unwinding. Doctor Gojo’s orders.”

The mental image of him in a doctor’s coat and nothing else briefly distracted you. At your silence, he grinned knowingly. “I’ll take that as an agreement to my plan.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and stretched. “Fine, you win this round.”

“I always do,” he retorted cockily.

True to his word, Gojo prepared a delicious meal while you soaked in the tub. The aromas wafting in from the kitchen made your stomach rumble eagerly.

By the time you made it downstairs, the table was set with your favorites. Gojo greeted you with a flourishing bow.

“For the lovely lady, a feast fit for a queen.”

You laughed at his antics, touched by the effort. Over dinner he kept the conversation light, making you laugh recounting silly stories. For the first time all week, you felt your tension finally easing.

Later, as you lounged together on the couch, Gojo spoke up softly. “Feeling more relaxed now?”

You nodded, snuggling closer. “Definitely. Thank you for all this, it was just what I needed.”

Strong arms wrapped securely around you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even when you get grumpy and violent with me,” he added teasingly.

You groaned. “Ugh, I’m sorry for tackling you like that.”

“What do you mean? I loved it,” he said, weirdly eager about it. “Seeing you all fired up and feisty was incredibly hot.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You know you love me,” he shot back smugly.

Rolling your eyes, you stretched up to kiss him. “Hmm, you’re right.”

He just loves everything about you.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Gojo’s voice boomed across the crowded hall, quieting the others in this luxurious restaurant he took you on a date with after high school graduation.

“Thank you. Now I know speeches aren’t usually allowed during meals, but I convinced the manager here to let me have the floor for a few minutes.” He flashed his most charming grin. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets to proudly proclaim the love of his life to a crowd.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled you up to stand up with him. Taking both your hands, he continued earnestly.

“This person right here is the most incredible human being I’ve ever met. Smart, strong, kind-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful.”

Murmurs spread through the hall listening raptly. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the public praise. Trust Gojo to be so shamelessly romantic.

He went on, tone utterly sincere beneath the dramatics. “Her passion for helping others inspires me daily. The way she fights with skill and compassion in equal measure is a marvel to watch.”

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I could spend hours listing all the reasons she amazes me, which is why I wrote it down.” Winking, he unfurled the lengthy scroll with a flourish, clearing his throat.

“Ahem… ‘The top 100 things I love about my girlfriend, revised edition’. Reason one…”

Your jaw dropped as he proceeded to read the entire list out loud to the captive audience.

It was mortifying. It was ridiculous.

It was so utterly Gojo.

As he extolled your praises, you buried your flaming face in his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” you mumbled against his suit.

He just chuckled and kept reading. “Reason 37, The way she scrunches her nose at me when I tell a bad joke…”

Despite your embarrassment, warmth blossomed in your chest. Trust Gojo to turn a simple dinner into a grand spectacle of devotion.

When he finally finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and grinned down at you. “Of course, the list could go on forever. But I think I’ve sufficiently made my point.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he said loud enough for all to hear, “You are the love of my life. My soulmate. My one and only.” Then he brought his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate kiss.

Catcalls and applause erupted from the watching audience you (and him) don’t even know. But you were deaf to it all, lost in Gojo’s embrace.

When you broke for air, faces still inches apart, he murmured, “I’ll spend every day finding new reasons to love you.”

Emotion clogged your throat. You had gotten used to his easy affection and endless praise over the time. But this loud, public proclamation was on another level entirely.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your feelings laid as bare as his.

Ignoring the continued hoots and chatter around you, Gojo lifted you effortlessly in his arms.

“Now then, I believe we have some private celebrating to do,” he purred suggestively in your ear.

“You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” You laugh in happiness.

“I can think of a few ideas,” he replied with a sly wink.

As he carried you out of the hall, you shook your head in amusement. Life with Gojo was never boring, that was for sure.

In between chaotic battles and daily life responsibilities, your relationship has grown into something truly profound. A partnership built on unwavering trust, passion, and laughter.

Gojo adored you loudly and unapologetically, just as you loved him.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Also writing this as a practice dump for my upcoming English creative writing competition lol

[writingwisterias]

hi!! could you do an eras leon where he’s drunk but he’s in like a sillier mood and he gets like really clingy and stuff and just random stuff he would do?

-🪑 also THANK YOU for the fic about vulnerable leon it was so so good

🪑!!!

I'm glad you liked it! I hope you are doing well!

Warnings: Fluff, Drinking, Drunk Leon,

GN!Reader

RE2:

He's a sweetheart so when he gets drunk he's such a touchy feely mood

I love the no Apocalypse AU so let's say he went out with a few of his work mates to celebrate closing a case or something

He spends the entire time praising you and explaining how much he loves you that the guys actually get him to call you to get him

When you do arrive he's smiling like an idiot and following you instantly

He does lean on you as he walks, but also apologizing for crushing you with his weight

Complimenting you the whole time home, talking about how he wants to spends the rest of his life with you

Naming any pets you'll get in the future. He's planning it all out

When he wakes up he doesn't remember any of it, not until you say some of the things he said during the walk home

He's blushing and hiding his face in his hands embarrassed not looking forward to going back to work

RE4R:

Very clumsy

He's tripping on everything, walking into things. His spatial awareness has gone all together.

You need to keep an eye on him as well because hes prone to wandering, you'll turn around to talk to someone and then he's gone

Almost like a toddler

You might as well get one of those backpacks with a lead so he can't go too far

When he hugs you or kisses you there's no Co ordination

He's aiming for your lips and gets your nose or cheek

Nudging your face as he tries to bring you into a hug

Infinite Darkness:

He's a jealous one

Will start fights with literally everyone if they look at you for too long

Once punched Chris because he bought you a drink to be nice.

He's very touchy, often groping you as a display

You have to swat his hand away a lot depending on the event

Rough kissing when you get home to try and get you into the mood but then passes out

You'll wake up with a hungover Leon making you breakfast as an apology for being so rough swearing that he won't do it again

Damnation:

Does not stop cracking jokes at any chance he gets

It gets to the point the only thing that comes out of his mouth is another shitty joke

You don't mind, sometimes they are actually funny but most of the time it's just cringe

He's smiling though so thats a plus

If he's drinking at home with you, he's got the music up loud like you can't hear a thing and neither can he

RE6:

Sleepy drunk

He prefers to drink at home for the reason so he can just get drunk and then fall asleep cuddling you

Either sat next to you with an arm round the back of the couch, his head thrown backwards with loud af snores

Or he's crushing you like dead weight

If you are out, you know it's time to go when he starts doing slow blinks

You have to keep talking to him in the cab or he will fall asleep and then you can't get him out

Vendetta:

He always gives me the impression that you can never tell he's been drinking or is drunk unless he's tried

I don't think he would fall asleep all the time but the drink has more effect and he is sillier

Probably touchy, like he doesn't want to let you go.

He's clinging you to the entire time. At home he's got his arms around you as you cook

If you want a bath well make room he's joining you

He's vulnerable so expect lots of talks of how he's feeling but only because he trusts you

He doesn't want you to fix him he just wants you there

He knows he'll get back up eventually, he has to

Death Island:

Actually really good at dancing

Like he starts off with a small jig in the bar and then by the time he's home you are being dragged around the living room in a swirl of laughter and music

It's not the right music ofc, and he does stumble

But he has enough rhythm to pass as it being a decent attempt

Also super flirty, giving you one liners, winks and large smirks

He also encourages you to drink more, like you can barely keep up with him

He's already bought you another drink before you finished the last one

[kqizen]

lover ☆ | ! kqizen

jjk men as your boyfriend <3 (ft. daddy line ^-^)

slight nsfw ⚠️ mdni

—

gojo:

—

-> loves to squeeze your boobs for absolutely no reason. he’ll come up behind you while you’re distracted and cup your breasts like he owns them. he does the same thing with your ass, but he prefers your breasts. do expect squeezing and pinching of your nipples

-> he’s one of those guys that playfully box you. of course, his punches never connect. if he so much as touches you with his fist, he snaps out of it and cups your face, looking at you with worry and guilt

-> don’t leave your beauty products out in the open around him. satoru has no idea that they’re expensive, unless he decides that one of the bottles look particularly fancy. he’ll absolutely milk each bottle for every last drop of product, then blame it on you for failing to put them away. no need to worry, a couple minutes of reprimanding will send him straight to sephora

-> whenever you’re ever getting ready near him, he rummages through all your makeup products. you have to pounce on him before he can destroy all your powders and lipsticks. if he finds your hair-clips, he’ll snap them on and playfully mock your girlishness

-> will spend hours on end to convince you to fall asleep in his arms. you simply don’t feel like cuddling sometimes, and that by itself is torture for satoru. when you eventually cave, he gets all giddy, smiling like a puppy. he’ll take pictures of you in his arms, then whine when you roll your eyes and move away

—

geto:

—

-> this man literally refuses to fall asleep without you in his arms. more specifically, his cock has to be pressed right up against you. he doesn’t care where, but it just has to touch you. he has a habit of sticking his hands into your panties as he sleeps

-> loves to rest his head on your tummy, and loves kissing your soft skin even more. he knows how sensitive your belly is, so he doesn’t pass up on the opportunity to tickle you ruthlessly

-> he plays the guitar, and happily teaches you how to do so as well. if you ask him to play a song for you, he’ll do it shyly and reluctantly. he stops midway through the song out of embarrassment, and not even your adorable pouting can get him to continue

-> his skincare collection honestly rivals yours. it’s nothing too expensive, since he managed to pinpoint all his needs into just one or two bottles. whenever you compliment his skin, he blushes and shakes his head. in return, he compliments your skin, telling you how beautiful you are

-> he learned how to braid his raven hair from you. suguru will gladly let you practice various hairstyles on him, even if you end up pulling the shit out of his scalp. all those bows and ribbons you have go to good use when he’s around

—

nanami:

—

-> often calls you good girl and princess, endearing pet names like that. to him, it’s nothing to be sexualized. he uses good girl as a genuine praise, and princess when he’s casually referring to you

-> he’s big on eye contact, and expects you to look at him when the two of you are interacting. whether you’re crying or laughing, he wants to see those pretty eyes of yours. he gently turns your head to face his when you’re being a little brat, planting kisses on your nose and lips

-> it’s almost an instinct of his to protect you. second nature, you could say. you notice that he covers the sharp corners of tables and counters when you bend down to pick something up, which you love to tease him about. it’s a lighthearted joke, but he gets all embarrassed about it

-> you honestly feel bad about this one, but there’s not much you can do to stop it. if you so much as glance at something you see in a store, it’ll be yours in a second. nanami plays it off like it’s nothing, but in reality, he just loves to spoil is precious girl

-> given that he’s much taller than you, he often has to bend down to hear you well. he gets really close to you, and you find your brain short circuiting as butterflies take over your stomach. he does a little hm? and his husky voice sends you over the edge

—

toji:

—

-> he loves it when you stand in front of him, since it makes it easy for him to slip his hand into the side of your panties. his large hand rests on your ass as he looks up at you, casually conversing as if nothing is happening

-> gives you a confused, almost weirded out look when you make those pretty orgasm faces. he’s honestly just wondering why you’re enjoying it so much, but it encourages him to fuck you even harder

-> loves your titties to the point where it’s almost concerning. you have to constantly remind him that it’s inappropriate to grab your boobs when you’re out in public, but he excuses his perverted behavior by telling you he’s just warming up his hands. you know damn well that he’s lying. toji kisses the soft skin of your breasts every time you’re wearing a low cut top, gently nibbling and biting

-> you make him hold your hair while you eat, just to tease him. unsurprisingly, it takes a ton of convincing to get him to do this. he looks away, annoyed and ashamed that you were even able to persuade him to be your little servant. of course, he gets you back by shoving your hair into your face when there’s food near your mouth

-> if you weren’t so against it, toji would unashamedly set your nudes as his profile picture, across all his social media platforms. that, and he would have a picture of your tits as his wallpaper. he actually tried it once, and you freaked out when he showed you

—

sukuna:

—

-> sleeps with his arm around your neck, in a terrifyingly possessive way. of course, it’s nothing that puts you in danger or hurts you. he’s just trying to get the message across that you’re his

-> loves to spank you, whether it be a punishment or not. if the two of you are ever lounging around, he’ll pull you over his lap and spank you. the pressure of his hits vary, depending on his mood. they’re gentle pats sometimes, and they actually hurt other times

-> for some reason, he loves to feed you with his own hands. he thinks it’s adorable when you bite down on nothing, every time he pulls away last second. plays that childish airplane game with you, just to embarrass you further. it’s rare, but he’ll let you return the favor sometimes. you can try to pull your hand away the same way he does, but he’s a lot faster than you. he’ll grab your wrists to hold you still, managing to eat despite your attempt to tease him

-> doesn’t understand things that are labeled feminine or girly. you ask him to buy you pads? he’ll probably come home with diapers. he tries his best to comfort you during your period, though he doesn’t understand why you get so moody. he teases you when you do your makeup, but he’s genuinely wondering why you even bother when you’re already so beautiful. never take his ass to sephora, because he’ll ramble on about how the stuff is too expensive for his liking. (he ends up paying for you anyway)

-> it’s not uncommon for to girls ask him for his number. he doesn’t do much about it. literally. he stares at them with that blank expression of his, until the poor girl is creeped out to the max. you smack him, telling him that he should at least speak up and say no. surprise, surprise, he doesn’t listen

[harmonyrae]

Inked

Synopsis: Somehow you won a free session from the most famous tattoo artist in Linkon. You never expected to be sucked into his world, but you’re slowly becoming even more obsessed with him. And with who you are when you’re with him. When you finally discover what he’s involved in, will he push you away or show you a whole new world? 

AN: This fanfic was inspired & entirely fueled by the artwork above, done by the amazing @obligatedart - thank you for letting me use your work as the cover art! Go check them out and see the other tattooed Rafayel pieces they’ve done. I’ve written over 80 pages in a week so... comment if you want to be tagged for part 2!

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual content, alcohol consumption, public sex, threesome, oral (m&f receiving), creampie, PiV, birth control mentioned (yay protection), mentions of needles (tattoo needles, not medical), genital piercings, vehicle accidents, injuries, blood, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 16k 

“I still can’t believe you won the fucking contest!”

Tara punches you in the arm and you grunt, swatting at her with a pout. She leans away from you to protect the coffee in her hand before giggling and gently rubbing the spot she hit.

“Sorry, sorry, I just… I spent so much money buying like 50 raffle tickets and you bought ONE and beat all the odds. Did you cast a spell? Are you a witch?!”

Tara’s animated voice draws the attention of the other cafe patrons. You sip your latte silently and try to avoid their judgemental gazes. Tara sets her cup down and crosses her arms. She leans back, squinting at you.

“So it’s tomorrow, right?”

You nod and lean on the table in front of you to pick at your blueberry muffin. Tara snatches the muffin away and you look up at her with wide eyes. She’s definitely irritated with your silence. But what can you possibly say? Sorry? Sorry for winning a once in a lifetime raffle to get a free tattoo by the best tattoo artist in Linkon? Who has a 5 year waitlist? Who has tattooed the biggest celebrities? Who was a judge on the #1 reality show for 3 years running trying to find the next big artist? Who is absolutely, positively, undoubtedly the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life? Fuck no, you are not sorry at all.

“I know you wanted to win so I don’t want to talk about it and make you upset.”

Tara rolls her eyes and plops your muffin back on its plate. You sit back and sigh, looking Tara up and down. She didn’t seem like the type to have a lot of tattoos, but she hid them well. When she wasn’t in her uniform she was showcasing the artwork on her body. The designs were gorgeous and you wished you had been more patient when getting yours. You basically ran to the tattoo shop on your 18th birthday to get a super basic bitch tattoo just because you could. 

“I want to hear about it! I am going to live vicariously through you. Spill bitch.”

You chuckle and finish off your latte before pulling out your phone to show Tara the email chain you started with the artist. She grabs your phone instantly and scrolls through the messages.

“Oh my god, even his emails sound hot.”

You roll your eyes and watch Tara’s eyes light up when she sees the design.

“Holy shit. You are BRAVE! AN underboob tat?! You’re gonna show him your tits the first time you meet him?! Biiiiiitch!”

She squeals before zooming in on the design and ogling at the details.

“This is so pretty! The seashells and the little pearls and chains? Amazing. It will match your chest piece really well too!”

She was right, the seashells and pearls would tie into your mermaid chest piece perfectly. It was the first tattoo you put a lot of effort into, getting the design nailed down and taking your time finding a good artist. You wanted this next piece to compliment it and expand on the original concept. The shells would be a dusty pink to match the tails with the beading and pearls adding a little sparkle. You smiled, your pre-tattoo butterflies swirling. 

“OH! You sent him a picture of your chest piece.”

She slapped your shoulder excitedly.

“In a bikini top! Are you KIDDING ME? Imagine him opening that picture and just getting to stare at your gorgeous tits and that tat? I’m horny just thinking about it.”

You grab her wrist to stop her flailing, your cheeks are burning since her voice is just a little too loud. She glares at you, her sly smile absolutely beaming. 

“Jesus Tara, shh! It’s not a big deal, I’ve wanted this piece expanded for a long time and Rafayel’s specialty is literally anything ocean related. He’s going to touch up the girls too.”

She raises her brows and drops her eyes to your chest and you quickly realize your mistake.

“The mermaids, you horny bitch, the mermaids.”

She nods slowly.

“Uh huh… sure!”

You don’t argue with her, let her think what she wants. You were already anxious thinking about the appointment. She was right about one thing, you were basically showing him your tits the same day you officially met. It’s like “Hi, nice to meet you, here’s my tits” - nice.

When you get home that night you spend extra time prepping your skin and finding the right outfit. Sure you’d be taking off your top and just wearing pasties, but making sure you felt your best beyond that was important too. You drink your sleepy time tea, since the pre-tattoo butterflies had turned to pre-tattoo anxiety.

You slip on your nightgown and settle back, trying to force yourself to relax. About 30 minutes later, you’re on your phone. You just couldn’t help it, you scroll through your feed liking Tara’s selfie with her boyfriend, Jeremiah. A photo of Caleb at a bar, he must have gotten some R&R today. And what’s this? Zayne posted a meme? Doctor Zayne? Oh, Greyson won a bet - that makes more sense. 

As you scroll, you start finding posts reposted by Lemuria Studios, recent clients, sketches done by artists and then a video that makes your chest tighten. Rafayel sits hunched over the arm of some buff dude in a tank top, the tattoo gun in his hand moves steadily against his skin. God, he looks hot. He’s just sitting there, doing his job, why are you freaking out? You want to put the phone down, watching him work is only going to make you more anxious for tomorrow. But you can’t seem to let it go. You’re mesmerised by the outline of the muscles of his forearm, barely visible under his own colorful tattoos, they twitch as he colors in the lines he just made. His dusty purple fringe brushes his cheeks, his earrings sway as he bobs his head to whatever music is playing. He stops and wipes the guy's arm with a towel before leaning back and looking at the camera. He smiles and… fuck… You drop your phone and stifle a moan. You’re not going to survive tomorrow. 

The next morning, you wake up early to get ready. You cook a huge breakfast, as difficult as this session was going to be, you didn’t want to make it worse by passing out. You down a huge glass of water while you do your makeup. You sweep your hair over your shoulders in two long braids and slip on a beanie. Your joggers sit comfortably on your hips and you change out your fitted halter for a dark cut off t-shirt. You were committing to the comfortable vibe, especially if you were going to be mostly uncomfortable very soon. 

Your phone rings and you race to the kitchen to see Tara’s picture flash on the screen. You answer and put it on speaker as you lace up your boots. 

“What’s up?”

“I’m just checking in before your session. Are you nervous?”

You chuckle under your breath. She has no idea.

“Oh yeah, I always get pre-tattoo jitters. They’ll go away when I get there.”

“I doubt it! Girl, his face is going to be inches away from your tits. I’d bring a change of panties if I were you.”

“Tara, what do you think people at work would say if they heard you talk like this?”

“Oh, they’d lose their minds! Sweet, innocent Tara would never warn you about imagining him dropping his tattoo gun and climbing on top of you, ripping your pasties off and –”

“TARA!”

She giggles for a minute straight, barely able to catch her breath. You swing your backpack over your shoulder and jog down to the garage. 

“Sorry! Honestly, I think you’ll have a great time. You’re gonna look hot with the new tat and I can’t wait to see it. Send me pics!”

“Of course. I’ll text you during breaks.”

After you hang up, you secure your helmet and hop on your bike. You take back roads instead of the highway since you know you’re too nervous and driving fast would be a bad idea. By the time you get to Regent Square, you can feel your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage. You find a long term parking garage and pay the outrageous fee. When you check your phone, you realize you only have 10 minutes before your appointment. You were supposed to be there at least 15 minutes early to fill out the paperwork. You jog down the street, only slowing long enough to catch your breath before heading inside the studio. 

Lemuria Studios is gorgeous, the pictures posted online don’t do it justice. The floor to ceiling windows bathe the room in sunshine, the weathered brick walls covered in bright graffiti, neon signs with what you assume to be words - although you are not sure what language it is and the hardwood floors are covered with vibrant rugs with intricate patterns. A large sectional couch corners off the waiting room where a few patrons wait for their artists. There are various tattoo stations, each decorated to suit a different artist. Towards the back of the studio there is a door with an ‘R’ in what looks like ceramic tiles. Must be Rafayel’s private room.

You approach the front desk and greet the receptionist with a smile. She passes you a clipboard with release forms and leaves to walk to the door at the back. You watch her knock and crack the door open, she says something before turning back to look at you. You quickly refocus and fill in the paperwork. You place the clipboard on the counter and take a seat on the couch, fiddling with the tassels of the pillow next to you. 

You’re about to stand and start pacing, your nerves getting the best of you, when you hear a door squeak open. You lift your eyes to see the man himself, emerge from the room and stroll towards the front of the studio. You clench your fists, yep, he’s even hotter in person. 

He’s dressed casually, his button up is definitely not buttoned up. His neck tattoo swirls down his neck to the center of his chest, two koi fish swim in a circle around his Adam's apple, the fins extend towards his jaw and down his neck with pink lotus flowers complimenting the red scales of the fish. Cut off sleeves let you see his signature tattoos, full sleeves on both arms. Not an inch of skin untouched, the full color underwater scenes are vibrant, bright orange and purple coral, dark blue waves highlighted with teals and white, schools of yellow and blue fish swim in circles around his forearm and a dolphin soars over the waves. His fitted jeans hide the leg tattoos you’ve seen in photos, the ocean waves that look more like flames than water that spiral from his ankle to his hip. He also supposedly has more tattoos on his torso, but you avoided looking up any photos of him shirtless because, well… that would be dangerous.

His shaggy hair casts a shadow over his eyes, but his smile is on full display. He turns to you and you hold your breath to avoid giggling like an idiot. His blue eyes are so bright, the wash of pink in them shines in the morning light that streams through the windows. As he approaches, you awkwardly stand and put on a shy smile. 

“Hi! I’m Rafayel, nice to officially meet you.”

He extends a hand and you nearly fall back onto the couch, finally taking a breath. You take his hand and revel in the softness of his skin. He suddenly yanks you forwards and starts pulling you toward the door at the back of the studio. You stumble along after him.

“I can’t wait to show you the final sketch, it’s everything you described but I added a little something that I think you’ll like.”

You giggle as he pulls you into the room. The bright purple walls are covered in either framed sketches, polaroids of tattoos, or random tattoo designs scribbled on a napkin or envelope. A vintage jukebox, with a modern AUX attachment, sits in the corner. A stack of canvases leans against the wall and a bucket of various spray paints sits on the floor. His drawing table has countless sketches pinned to it, including yours. The design is exactly what you imagined, but there’s an additional element. The centerpiece that directly connects to the chest piece is now slightly larger, having a net pattern woven behind it with a few fish and broken shells. 

“That’s amazing, holy shit! But it’s a bit more than we originally planned on, are you sure you have time?”

He immediately starts getting the transfer paper prepared. You see him shrug.

“The whole day is yours, it was booked by the radio station that set up the raffle. It’s actually pretty nice only having one client to work on, I can take my time.”

You feel your cheeks flush. He would take his time on your piece, it was flattering and nerve wrecking. You set your bag down on a chair in the corner and stuff your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, awesome, I didn’t realize…”

“You’re nervous aren’t you?”

You huff out a laugh and put your hands on your hips.

“Not at all, I have plenty of tattoos. I know the drill. I’m totally fine, just excited.”

He turns, the transfer paper in hand, and walks over to his station. Everything was meticulously set up from the tiny cups of ink to the paper towels to his tattoo gun. He sets the transfer paper down before heading to the sink in the corner and washing his hands.

“Do you need tape?”

You watch him scrub his hands, it was almost like he was a doctor preparing for surgery. You tilt your head and hum to yourself, trying to figure out his meaning. He dries his hands and looks at you, his lips set in an amused smirk.

“For your nipples.”

You immediately drop your gaze and try to laugh to distract from the blush rising to your neck and cheeks. You clear your throat and meet his gaze.

“No, I wore pasties. Like I said, I know the drill.”

He smiles and motions towards the table. He puts on gloves and gives his bottle of transfer cream a shake. He eyes you expectantly.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

You turn away from him and face the padded table in front of you. You tug your shirt off over your head and toss it over your bag on a nearby chair. You hesitate to turn around. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous - sure you are literally half-naked in front of a guy you could only dream of, but he’s done this countless times! Your tits are not the first ones he’s tattooed under. You turn to face him and watch his eyes drop to your chest, he glances at the transfer paper and back to you, mentally lining up the art on your body. 

“Yea, this will look amazing on you.”

His voice is rougher than before, you clasp your hands behind your back and rock on your heels.

“Thank you… uhm… do you want me to lie down or?”

He walks up and squeezes some transfer cream onto his gloved hand. 

“Just stand right here. This might be cold.”

You brace and when his fingers touch the skin just under your breast, you gasp. Not from the cold, but rather from the jolt of electricity that sparked through your system. 

“You were right, s’cold.” 

He chuckles and continues to rub the cream along your upper rib cage, under your breasts and down the center of your chest. He grabs the transfer paper and lines it up.

“Can you hold 'em up for a second?”

You blink.

“Your… breasts. I want to make sure this will line up properly.”

You silently curse at yourself for how stupid you feel. You really should have chosen maybe a leg piece or maybe a cute little forearm number, but no you had to do this. You cup your breasts and lift them, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. He lines up the transfer and presses it to your skin, slowly peeling it away. 

“Fuck yes. That looks perfect. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.”

He turns away and changes his gloves while you check his placement. Just the transfer looks insane, your previous embarrassment melts into excitement. You turn back to him with a huge smile. 

“I love it! It’s gonna look so good!”

Rafayel smiles and you skip over to the table. You miss the flush that spreads across his cheeks as he watches your tits bounce on your way over. You hear him clear his throat as he leans to drag his chair over with his foot. You lay back on the table, your head sinking into the pillow and your hands resting on your stomach.

Rafayel sits and slides closer to you on his chair. He picks up his tattoo gun and dips the needles into the ink. He looks up at you, shaking his head to get his fringe out of his eyes.

“Ready?”

You relax your shoulders and sigh, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Hell yeah.”

The outside of Rafayel’s palm rests against the side of your breast, holding the skin taut as he begins tattooing along the edge of your rib cage. The pain is about as bad as you expected. The vibration of the tattoo gun against your ribs makes your teeth chatter. You close your eyes and try to distract yourself while adjusting to the sting of the needles. 

“So, why mermaids?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks up the monotonous buzz of the tattoo machine. You tilt your chin down and look at his god-like profile. With his attention on your tattoo, you finally let yourself examine his face. The ear you can see is littered with piercings. Double conch, helix, daith, an industrial with a little fish charm attached. His eyes have a hint of black smudged along his lash line, of course he wears eyeliner… of fucking course. And it looks so damn good too. 

He has a variety of facial piercings, which look amazing and now you want one… or two. A small silver septum hoop. You notice he occasionally wiggles his nose, rubbing it across his top lip, a nervous habit perhaps? His lip piercings have you in a trance, the shark bites, the vertical labret - how would they feel against your lips? You also caught sight of a tongue ring. The things this man could probably do with his tongue…

“Still with me, cutie?”

You are glad he was refreshing the ink on the needles as you have a very physical reaction to this new little nickname he’s given you. You cough and try to steady yourself, once you are still he continues his work.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Oh yeah, by what?”

He’s teasing you now. Great. But you never back down from a fight and if he wants to poke at you with his cute little comments - and not just the needles in his tattoo gun - you’ll give it right back to him.

“By you.”

He laughs, a hint of surprise on his face.

“Oh really? What distracted you exactly?”

“I was just admiring your piercings. I haven’t gotten nearly enough.”

“What piercings do you want?”

His tattoo needle continues to buzz and the pain slowly fades to a numbness. 

“Definitely more on my ears. I like the tragus. And then maybe my navel, basic, I know.”

“No way, the navel is a great piercing. There are a lot of creative jewelry options too. I love mine, I’d recommend it to anyone.”

“You have your belly button pierced?” 

He chuckles and shifts his hand, his pinkie dangerously close to your pasty making your heart flutter.

“Yup. Was one of my first actually. After that it was all downhill. Now I have too many to count.”

“Really? What other piercings do you recommend then?”

He hesitates and glances up at you. His eyes flick to your breasts and back. And you swear you caught him biting his lip for a moment. 

“Body piercings are fun. But if you’re not ready for that but bored with your ears, facial piercings are a good place to start. Septum made me cry like a bitch, but it’s a great one.”

“Made you cry like a bitch, huh?”

Your mocking tone makes him pause and look at you, his lips set in a pout. You giggle at his pathetic, yet adorable, expression.

“It’s because it fucks with your sinuses or some shit, not because it hurt!”

“Okay, okay!”

“I’ve gotten some piercings that make grown men weep and didn’t flinch, trust me, it was not because of the pain.”

You raise your eyebrows at the implication, but you decide to hold your tongue and not entertain the thought of what those “other” piercings might be. You settle your head back and take a deep breath.

“And what about tattoos? Which one was the most painful?”

He hums to himself, his hand once again shifting and pushing your breast slightly upward as he colors in a line. 

“My neck was the worst, by far. I’m glad I didn’t pick something that went directly over my Adam’s apple cause I would not have survived.” 

“That piece is really nice. Did you design it?”

“I did. Then my apprentice tattooed it. Never been prouder of the kid. Now you’ve asked a few questions, I think it’s only fair you answer one of mine.”

You sigh dramatically and chuckle when he stops working. You know he is staring at you, probably pouting again, so you stare at the ceiling. 

“Alright, fair is fair.”

“Why mermaids?”

“Oh uhh…” You stutter as you try to find the right words. “Because they’re tragic yet beautiful.” 

Rafayel stops again and looks at you, his brows raised. 

“Art and literature depicts them as beautiful creatures, but their counterparts are much darker. Sirens lure sailors to their watery graves. They’re… underestimated? Like their beauty distracts while their voice reels them in. It’s powerful.”

“Was there something that prompted the need for a constant reminder of their power etched into your skin?”

You shift your gaze to his hands, resting on your stomach, the tattoo gun hovering over your skin.

“I spent a long time under someone’s thumb, feeling powerless. He always felt like he had to protect me. I was… lost… for a while. Then I read a book about a siren, using the form of a mermaid, who charmed the men in her life into submission while planning their downfall. I didn’t want Ca– my friend to be hurt though! I decided to put on a ‘damsel in distress’ act for him but I’m still in control, ya know?”

Rafayel nodded sharply, his gaze more intense. He shifted on his stool and the familiar hum of the tattoo gun started again. With his focus back on your body, you felt your mind start to spiral. Was your explanation dumb? You know sirens are not exactly mermaids, but mermaids looked better. Did he think you were dumb and confused them? Should you have said ‘cause they’re pretty’ instead?

“Most people don’t realize sirens and mermaids aren’t the same thing. Seems like you do.”

“I do! Yeah, I just… I guess…”

“Liked how mermaids looked better than a half bird sea creature?”

His voice was light, sarcasm had found its way back to him and you sighed in relief. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I saw some good siren designs but nothing clicked. This one did. Plus I think it makes my tits stand out.”

Rafayal lets out a breathy laugh and sits up straighter in his chair. He grabs a paper towel and wipes the excess ink from your skin. He moves his chair forward and settles his arm over the top of your breast, his hand resting at the center of your chest. You can feel his breath fan across your skin and you have to bite your lip, hard, to avoid shivering.

“It does, but I have a feeling they looked perfect before too.”

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel slightly dizzy. Did he just? Did he? He complimented your tits. This man complimented your tits, with his face inches away from them, while stabbing you repeatedly with a needle. How are you supposed to respond to that?

“Thank… you.”

Rafayel laughs at your whispered appreciation. His hands work carefully, shifting and sliding to draw the centerpiece.

“Okay, next question.”

Over the next four hours you and Rafayel go back and forth with questions. It almost felt like you were on a first date. You talked about your favorite music, his favorite movies, your job at the Hunters Association, his secret sushi restaurant that’s opening in six months. On your break at the two hour mark, he offered you a soda and walked in circles around the room, stretching his legs, while talking animatedly about a rave happening later this month. And when you begged him for the details so you could get tickets, his smile grew tenfold.

As he was adding the final touches, he stood bent over you poking and dabbing away ink until you were nearly ready to scream. His hair would brush against your shoulder and you’d stiffen, leading to Rafayel joking about ‘staying loose or it’ll hurt more’ which made you squeeze your thighs so tightly you nearly cried. When he finished and was doing the clean up he surprised you, his cheeks were a tad rosy and his usually playful tone more serious.

“I haven’t had this much fun during a session in a while. So… Thank you. I hope you like it.”

You took his hand and sat up, hopping off the table to turn and face the mirror. You were speechless. The lines were sharp and straight, the colors bright, the shading made everything pop out as if the seashells were just sitting on the surface of your skin. Your mermaids were glowing - their scales nearly sparkled and the ocean waves surrounding them looked so real. Tiny sparks floated around the mermaid's hands, creating a shield of fire. Like they were putting on a show or putting up a forcefield. You couldn’t stop yourself from squealing with excitement before you turned around and lunged towards Rafayel, pulling him into a hug.

“Oh my god…”

As soon as your chest collided with his, your excitement faded and pure terror replaced it. You jumped back, instinctively covering your chest with your hands. His ears were bright red and he stared at you, unable to blink it seems. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think! I was so excited and… Shit… I –”

He reaches out and takes hold of your arms. You snap your mouth closed.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you love it. I do wish that you hadn’t… pulled away so quickly though…”

You blinked rapidly. He was pouting again, pouting because you pulled away from hugging him. From hugging him while… His thumbs brush against your skin and you tilt your head, scanning his face for confirmation that what he said was real.

“I was going to wait to ask you out until after I bandaged you up and you had your shirt on, but why waste a perfectly good moment?”

Your mouth hangs open and you feel your knees jerk. Rafayel’s hold on you tightens and he helps you lean back against the table.

“Shit… let me get you some juice, you’re probably crashing a bit.” 

Oh, he has no idea just how badly you are crashing out right now. He jogs out of the room and returns with a small bottle of orange juice. He opens it for you and holds it to your lips. You take a sip and lift your hand to hold his wrist while he helps you drink. His eyes meet yours and you stare at him, he doesn’t look away, his gaze burns straight to your core. He sets the bottle down and grabs a paper towel, dabbing at your leaking tattoo gently. 

“Yes.” You whisper.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

If you thought you’d seen him excited before… He smiles, his dazzling teeth take your breath away. You raise a brow when you realize he has gems adhered to his canines - can he get any sexier?

“Well, I’d say this session went swimmingly.” 

You giggle and rest your palms on the table behind you. He gets to work cleaning your tattoo and snapping a few pictures for you before covering the fresh ink with Saniderm wrap. You pull your shirt back on and down the rest of the orange juice - you were starting to feel your endorphins fade away and your body was reeling from the experience. 

“How does tomorrow night sound?” 

He holds his phone out to you and you take it, seeing he already set up a contact for you. You feel your cheeks burn when you see the contact name “Tattoo Cutie.” You don’t correct it, just add your name beside it and punch in your number before handing it back to him. 

“Sounds perfect.”

You wake up to a banging on your front door, it’s so loud you’re sure your neighbors will complain to you later. You don’t even bother putting on your robe and jog through your living room. You swing the door open and Tara flies through, nearly knocking you over. You close the door and follow her through the hall to your living room.

“You’re casting a spell or making one of those wish bottle things or whatever it is that you’re doing to make your life so damn perfect.”

She plops down on your sofa and crosses her arms. She stares up at you with a stern expression. You try not to giggle since Tara’s version of “stern” comes across a lot like Rafayel’s pout. 

“I didn’t cast a spell. I just –”

“You just what? Became the luckiest girl in the world without even trying? That’s even worse!”

You finally let out a laugh and sit down next to her, pulling your legs to your chest.

“Listen, I have no idea what’s going on, I am just trying to enjoy it while it lasts. It feels like I’m going to wake up any moment and realize it was all a dream.”

She shifts on the sofa and turns to face you.

“I don’t want to sound like I am jealous in a mean way, I am jealous in a ‘give me some of your luck’ way. Maybe then Jeremiah will finally propose…”

You grab her hand and squeeze gently.

“Oh come one, you literally picked out your ring with him! He’ll propose, he’s obsessed with you. He’s also terrified of you, so he knows better than to half-ass a proposal. Give him more time.”

Her cheeks flush and she looks down at her hand, holding up her ring finger. She lets out a sigh and looks up at you with determination.

“I want to know everything about last night. Every dirty detail. Spill.”

She kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs under her, fully facing you. She won’t let go of your hand, so you’re trapped on the sofa with her until you tell her about your date.

“He picked me up on his bike and –”

“He rides a bike! Oh my god that’s hot - what kind?!”

“A Kawasaki. It was really nice, dark blue with bright blue headlights. He told me he collects them so –”

“He collects motorcycles? Oh my god…”

“Are you going to let me tell you about the date or not?”

Tara huffs and lets go of your hand. She lifts her fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips together, “zipping her lips” so you can continue.

“We drove around for a while and then he took me to – oh I don’t know if I can tell you…”

“BITCH IF YOU DON’T –”

You laugh and lean away from her flailing hands. You raise yours in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but you have to promise not to say anything, swear.”

She places a hand over her heart.

“I swear on Winterford the 3rd I will not speak a word.”

“Woah, swearing on your dog's life is intense Tara.”

She crosses her arms and glares at you. You roll your eyes and continue.

“He is opening a sushi restaurant in a few months, so he took me there to show me around. It’s down at the pier near Whitesand Bay.”

Tara opens her mouth to say something but instantly closes it. You nod in approval, her self-control is improving. 

“He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but the interior and kitchen are done. We made sushi together and ate on the rooftop terrace looking out over the water.”

Tara lets out a closed-mouth squeal and claps her hands. She motions with her hands for you to continue. 

“We walked along the pier and talked for a long time. When it got dark he offered his jacket - I know - and then we went back to his bike. He drove down this alley where graffiti artists practice and gave me a can to try it out.”

“Wait - sorry - you defaced public property?”

“Rafayel owns the building and advertises it as, and I quote ‘an artists playground’ so no I did not.”

“That’s a shame, it would have been hot.”

“Tara! I’m a public servant! I’d lose my job.”

She pokes your shoulder.

“Only if you get caught!”

You rub your temples and suppress the urge to laugh at her antics. 

“What happened next?”

“He drove me home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She punches your shoulder and you fall back onto the couch.

“TARA!”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN GET A KISS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I DID! Just not… okay… he kissed me on the cheek when he said good night. It was cute.”

“CUTE?”

You sit up and push her, she doesn’t even move. 

“I don’t want to rush things!”

“At least tell me he made plans for a second date with you?”

“He did. We are going out on Friday night.”

“Thank god. Please, I beg of you, get laid or at least make out with him!”

“Tara, I swear to god…”

“You have been insanely stressed lately and from what you’ve told me, he is super into you. Just let go babe, enjoy it! Enjoy him.”

You cross your arms and shake your head.

“It’ll happen when it feels right. I won’t lie, I hope it’s sooner rather than later, but I also am willing to wait. I –”

You stop yourself, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tara’s expression softens.

“Oh. Oh.”

You get up from the couch and head into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Tara is right on your heels.

“You liiiiike him. Aww, babes!”

She wraps her arms around you, hugging your back as you pour coffee beans into your espresso machine. 

“I just started seeing him, it’s too early to tell.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

She releases you and slides onto a bar stool, her arms leaning on the island. You start chopping up fruit and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. The sound of your coffee machine cuts through the silence and you avoid looking at Tara, knowing she can read you like a book. Maybe it was after the tattoo session or when you were holding hands on the pier, but at some point you realized you really liked Rafayel. He made you laugh and he asked the most bizarre questions that made you think about life in a new light. You wanted more and god, you hope he does too.

By the time Friday rolls around you are definitely ready for some fun. You’ve been constantly sharing memes back and forth with Rafayel all week. It’s certainly eased the stress of work. But you want to see him and you’re eager for his call when you finally clock out and head home.

You’re barely in the front door when you hear your phone buzz. You see Rafayel’s name light up your screen and have to force yourself to count to ten before answering it. You don’t want to seem that eager. 

“Hey, you.”

“Hey cutie, how was work?”

“It was okay, not too much activity today so I was stuck cataloging old reports. I almost fell asleep like three times.”

“I bet. I… shit… I have to tell you something.”

You clench your fist and lean against the door to your bedroom, dropping your bag to the floor.

“Okaaaay.”

He sighs and the knot in your stomach tightens.

“I have to reschedule.”

And there it is, your heart sinks.

“Oh… yeah okay.”

“Not because I want to, trust me. I owe someone a favor and have to be at a party.”

You bite your lip, propping your hand on your hip as you start to pace.

“I see.”

You can’t mask the edge to your voice. A party? Someone is calling in a favor for him to come to their party? He is famous, so it would make them look good, but why couldn’t he invite you? Was he embarrassed of you? Did he not want people in his life to know you were dating? Or seeing each other? Or just talking? Are you even dating?

“It’s more like work, she’s offering free tattoos to the guests. The other artist fell through so she’s calling me in so her party doesn’t ‘crash and burn’ - her words not mine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, you’re pissed.”

You stop dead in your tracks and straighten up.

“I am not!”

“I can hear you pacing.” 

You look down at your shoes. Of course you wore your chunky boots with the clicky heels today. The taps on your wooden floors were that loud? Damn.

“I’m not mad, I promise.”

“Then you’re irritated?”

“No…”

“What is it? Come on, tell me.”

“I guess… confused?”

“Confused about what?”

You close your eyes and sit down on your bed. Bracing yourself for the embarrassment you’re sure will wash over you after your next statement. 

“Is there a reason you couldn’t bring me? I know you said it was more like work, but I guess… You know what, nevermind.”

You flop back onto your mattress and cover your eyes with your arm.

“Nope! Not ‘nevermind-ing’ - I would love to bring you, I just… I… fuck how do I explain it?”

“You don’t want anyone knowing about me?”

“No! Fuck no! That’s not what I… shit… okay, I didn’t think you’d want to come. It’s not a normal party. Not everyone is… comfortable with this sort of thing.”

You sit up immediately. Your hand tightly grips your phone. 

“What kind of party is it?”

He pauses. The silence stretches for what feels like hours. He finally sighs and chuckles under his breath.

“It’s a sex party, babe.”

You audibly gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. You shake your head and ignore your throbbing clit to continue the conversation.

“Oh, I… right… I get it. Sorry. Uhm…”

“You’re more than welcome to come as my plus one, but only if you’re comfortable.”

You take a moment and consider your options. A sex party. As Rafayel’s plus one. You’ve never been very adventurous with your sexual endeavors. You didn’t even realize sex parties happened in real life. You’re practically salivating just thinking about it. You stand and face the mirror hanging next to your closet. What have you got to lose? 

“What should I wear?”

Rafayel laughs, he clears his throat before continuing. 

“Something sexy, but that’ll be easy for you. I’ll bring you a mask.”

You pause after opening your closet. 

“A mask?”

“Yeah, everyone wears masks to add to the ‘experience’ - everyone at these parties knows each other most of the time, but the masks offer a sense of freedom. Everybody can do what they want for the night, no consequences.”

You tug at the fabric of a sleek black dress as you mull over the idea. Just for the night. No consequences. Maybe Tara is right, maybe you should just let go. 

“What time?”

“It starts at 9. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“See you then.”

After you hang up you get to work figuring out your outfit. Rafayel might have confidence in your ability to pick out a sexy outfit but you certainly didn’t. Should it be sexy and cute? Just sexy? Sexy and slutty? Sexy and fancy? You pull dress after dress from your closet and nothing feels right. You finally decide to forgo dresses completely. The first skirt you pull out is the one. You can visualize the outfit and while it’s much more revealing than you’re used to, you are pretty sure you’d be wearing more than most of the party goers regardless. 

You zip up the pleather mini skirt, adjusting it so it sits high on your hips. Your legs were on full display, the skirt mostly serving to just cover your ass. You grab your favorite black bra and shrug on the mesh top. Layering gold necklaces so your torso doesn’t appear so bare. You look in the mirror and jump up and down with excitement. Your tattoos are fully visible through the mesh. You had lathered lotion onto your new tattoos so the peeling wasn’t noticeable and carefully applied perfume, avoiding the healing skin. Your red pumps sit next to the door with your red crossbody clutch. You were ready, well sort of.

Rafayel called you only a few minutes later and you carefully made your way to the first floor. You were comfortable wearing heels, opting to wear them all the time when hitting the club with Tara or going on dates. But tonight, your nerves were making your ankles a little wobbly. The elevator door opens to the front lobby of your apartment building and you spot Rafayel leaning against a car just outside. Fuck.

He had a button up, that was actually buttoned up this time, tucked into shredded jeans. His boots were laced with gold laces. He had multiple chain necklaces around his neck. As you got closer you realized his shirt was also see through, just little golden floral appliques scattered over the sheer fabric. You could see everything and god, it was a sight. The definition of his abs, the dark lines of a tattoo on his side and swirls of ink trailing from his neck piece down his chest. You spot his navel piercing, sparkling as the setting sun casts what almost felt like a spotlight on him. Something else sparkles, nipple rings. You swear under your breath. He’s going to kill you, not literally, but - well he might with how fast your heart is beating. 

He finally looks up from his phone and spots you. His eyes widen and he stares, jaw slack, for at least a full minute. Your cheeks burn and you have to focus on his face so you don’t sneak a peek at his torso again. 

“Fuck, you look amazing.”

His words make you stammer. You swallow hard, working up the courage to respond.

“I can say the same for you.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. You feel his body against yours and sigh, wishing you could delay him letting you go.

“Ready to go, cutie?”

You nod and he opens the passenger door for you. You slide in and finally take a good look at the car you’re in. You’ve never ridden in a Bentley before - the seats were soft under your thighs. The leather is silky rather than sticky against your skin. The car was painted a similar dark blue to his bike and had the same bright blue headlights. You already knew he liked the color blue, but this just made it more obvious. 

He settles into the driver seat and the engine revs to life. 

“You’re sure you’re comfortable with this?”

You lean on the center console as you face him, leaning forwards.

“I’m sure.”

“We can leave at any point, Talia will just have to deal with it. Just don’t hesitate to –”

You press your index finger to his lips, silencing him. The surprised look on his face makes your smile hurt your cheeks.

“Rafayel, I’m sure.”

He smiles and you drop your hand, but he grabs it immediately and laces his fingers with yours. He rests your hand on his thigh, rubbing your hand with his thumb as he sets off down the highway.

As the gates to the mansion open, you squeeze Rafayel’s hand trying to quell a wave of nerves. This mansion is huge, you spot two guest houses and a pool with a waterfall - a full ass waterfall - nestled in the backyard surrounded by hundreds of trees and flowers. The cobblestone driveway leads to a massive mahogany front door, where two men stand, dressed in black. Rafayel continues rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“It’s intimidating, I know. It’ll be better once we’re inside.”

You watch party goers enter, getting pat down briefly before heading inside. From what you can see, they’re dressed fairly normally. Dresses and heels, suits or blazers. Rafayel parks in the garage of one of the guest houses and rushes around the car to open your door. You give him a playful glare.

“You know I can open my own door, good sir.”

He takes your hand and helps you out, bringing your hand to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles. 

“I’m aware.”

You don’t argue when he wraps an arm around your waist as he leads you to the main house. He enters through a backdoor and a security guard greets him with a smile.

“Raf, good to see you. Talia is in the main room already. She told me to show you to the booth. And who is this with you?”

His voice hardens when he spots you. Rafayel leans over and kisses your temple.

“She’s with me.”

The guard nods and unlocks a door, ushering you both inside.

All the lightbulbs have been replaced with warm red bulbs, fake candles cover every surface, cushions and blankets are tucked in corners. Rooms that typically never have beds have become makeshift bedrooms. Wait staff stroll in and out of the kitchen with platters covered in hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A DJ is perched on a balcony overlooking the main floor, the music a mix of soft jazz with sultry singers. 

You’ve yet to spot any party goers, so you relax a bit as you take in the lavish interior. You’re pulled behind a curtain, a small room sits behind it with a padded table, a small cabinet, a portable sink, a large medical light and a few stools. Rafayel walks up to the cabinet and crouches, examining its contents. You spot a large collection of tattoo equipment. As Rafayel sets up his station, you peek through the curtain and see people walking around. Everyone is wearing masks and at least some form of clothing. You hear Rafayel call your name and you jump back through the curtain.

“Curious, are we?”

You scoff and cross your arms. He turns to you and holds something out. You take it and realize it’s a simple black eye mask, made of simple fabric with a thick elastic band. When you look back up at Rafayel, he is already putting his on. You slip the mask on and fiddle with the elastic, unsure if you should tuck it under your hair. Rafayel touches your hand and you pause. He turns you around and collects your hair, holding it up so you can slip the elastic band underneath. He lets your hair go and smoothes it back in place. 

“You’re welcome to look around, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I’ll stay, at least for now. I can be your assistant.”

He smiles and brushes his thumb across your cheek. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes bouncing from your eyes to your lips. You hook your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and he leans closer. Is he going to –

“Raffie! Oh my god thank you thank you thank you!”

A woman with long purple waves bounces through the curtain. You almost let out a gasp when you see she’s naked from the waist up. Rafayel slaps a hand over his eyes and sighs.

“Talia… You might be the one person at this party I absolutely do not want to see naked.”

“Raffie, you’re so dramatic. I have pasties on!.”

If she did have pasties, they were… camouflaged. Her teasing voice only seems to irritate Rafayel more. Or maybe it’s because of her cute little nickname for him.

“Talia, please…”

Talia sighs dramatically and dives through the curtain for a moment. When she returns she has a silky purple robe on. She reaches up and yanks Rafayel’s wrist and pulls his hand from his face. His eyes remain closed.

“I put on a robe, Raffie. Chill out.”

Rafayel opens his eyes and shoves her shoulder playfully.

“Stop it with the Raffie.”

“I don’t know, I like Raffie. It’s cute.”

Rafayel stares at you and you can’t help but laugh. Talia giggles and grabs your hand, shaking it wildly.

“When Rafayel said he was bringing a plus one I was shocked. He never brings anyone around me honestly. You must be special.”

“Oh, no I’m –”

“She is.”

Rafayel cuts you off and you nearly choke on your own saliva. His hand grazes your hip, holding you close. Talia smiles and pokes his shoulder.

“I see. Well… here you go.”

She hands you and Rafayel a keyring with three cards attached. You flip the cards back and forth, not seeing anything printed on them. 

“In case you decide to… participate. Feel free to tattoo as long as you like, I only promised the service until midnight.”

Rafayel nods and accepts the side hug Talia offers. She gives you a quick hug as well - taking you by surprise - before skipping out of the room.

“So that’s Talia. She’s my aunt. And she’s so great at introductions.”

He puts his keyring in the cabinet and sits down on one of the stools next to the table. He starts spreading out a wide array of flash tattoos he’s designed, making it easier for selection. You fiddle with the keyring. 

“So what’s this about?”

He looks up and, even in the dim lighting you can see his ears turn red.

“It’s a… aha… a way to approach someone you want to interact with and express interest.”

You stare at him, letting your mind wander as you try to figure out how it works. You avoid Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed that you don’t understand his implications. You hear him stand and approach you. His hand covers your own and he takes the keyring. You watch as he flips to the blue card.

“An individual will approach another individual, or a group of individuals, and hold up a card. They’ll wait until they’re chosen or refused. The card tells you what they want.” 

You lift your wide eyes to meet his.

“The blue card is for the male. The red card is for the female. And the yellow card is for both.”

You blink rapidly and clear your throat.

“So if I approached you and held up this.”

He holds up the red card.

“It means I want you… In whatever way I can have you.”

You take a deep breath and feel your chest tighten. You press your thighs together and basically beg your pussy to calm down. He places the keyring back in your hand and closes your fingers around it. He lifts his hand to hold the side of your neck. He leans closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning across your face. His lips barely graze your cheek, just above your lips. Every breath you take pushes your chest against his. It takes everything you have not to grab him and devour him on the spot.

You hear the curtain behind you flip open and Rafayel lets go of your neck, looking up to see his first client. You sit on a stool and watch Rafayel tattoo client after client. Most are completely naked, which takes you a bit of time to adjust to. You help him by cleaning the table - very well - between clients. 

Every time a woman enters, their breasts bouncing and pussy proudly on display, you feel a twinge of pain. And when Rafayel puts his hands on them to begin working, it feels like you’re going to throw up. 

Before you know it, midnight is less than a half hour away and your nerves start to swirl. What will Rafayel want to do once his “duties” are done? Just as you’re getting ready to ask him, a perky brunette with olive skin strolls in. Golden chains draped over her perfect body. She leans against the table and points to a simple jellyfish design. 

“It’s a popular one. Where’dya want it?” 

He clears the table and she lays down on her back. You glance down at your phone and check the time and when you look back up, she is laying with her legs spread wide. You hold your breath and look to Rafayel, who is still focused on getting his supplies refreshed. When he turns around a look of genuine surprise graces his face. He sets his tattoo gun down and crosses the room to wash his hands.

“Are you sure about that? It’s worse than a piercing and harder to heal. You won't be able to participate anymore tonight.”

“A night of passion or a tattoo on my pussy by the famous Rafayel? I am absolutely sure.”

Rafayel doesn’t look at you as he puts on his gloves. You tense and drop your gaze. He sits on his stool and slides over, when you finally look up you see him basically staring at her pussy. You gasp silently, you didn’t think it was loud enough for anyone to hear, but when Rafayel glances over his shoulder at you you quickly get up and dash through the curtain. 

You don’t look back and you don’t hear him call for you - not that you could hear anything over the music and moans. You walk through the various rooms, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter on your way. You finally find an empty room and sit down to catch your breath. You down your champagne in one go and fiddle with the stem of the glass. 

You know you shouldn’t be upset, you weren’t in a relationship and this was technically your second date. From the sounds of it, he’s tattooed that area before. Of course he has, it’s his job. It isn’t a big deal. You feel foolish for running out like that, he probably thinks you’re dramatic and can’t handle his job or his fame. You set the glass on a table nearby and cover your face with your hands. 

You finish off two more glasses of champagne before feeling brave enough to head back into the main hall. You take your time as you walk back to Rafayel’s tattoo booth, letting yourself watch the chaos around you. Clusters of people on beds, tables and even the floor. Riding, licking, sucking, moaning. You feel like you’re in another world, where shame and embarrassment don’t exist. If you weren’t so frustrated you might actually be enjoying yourself. 

You stop at the staircase, your eyes locked on a couple wrapped around each other. It’s not like the others, they take their time, kissing and touching before he lifts her to ride his cock. Her moans are soft and the smile on her face - she’s experiencing pure bliss. You feel your cheeks heat and your throat tighten. You want that, not just a night of passion with a hot guy. And maybe you aren’t able to handle Rafayel’s job or fame. Is that such a bad thing? That you know what you want? Or what you don’t want?

“Cutie?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks you out of your spiral. You feel his hand on your back and you turn to face him. You know your cheeks are flushed, your eyes hazy yet vacant as your mind tries to make sense of your newfound clarity. 

“I’m sorry I ran out.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and rubs your arms.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I know it’s your job and you’ve probably tattooed plenty of pussies - it’s not a big deal.”

“Really? I think it is a big deal if it upsets you.”

“I wasn’t upset. It doesn’t matter anyway, if I can’t handle it then maybe you should find someone who can.”

He stiffens, his brows knit together and his eyes darken. His voice drops and his tone becomes rigid.

“Is that what you want? For me to find someone else?”

“Maybe I am uncomfortable with the idea of you touching another girl's pussy, even if it is for your job. So yes, find someone who doesn’t care.”

He pushes you back against the wall. His hands move from your arms to tightly grip your hips.

“What if I like that about you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he leans in, pressing his chest against yours.

“Do you want my hands on you? Only you? Only touching your pussy?”

Your chest heaves, pressing against him with every breath. His hands move up your waist, forcing your back to arch off the wall towards him.

“Cause that’s what I want. I don’t want to touch anyone else like that, not when yours is the one I can’t stop thinking about tasting.”

His nose rubs against yours.

“I told her to change the location or get out.”

His lips brush against yours, you can almost taste him.

“So don’t tell me to find someone else because you’re the one I want. So please, don’t run away.”

You let out a shaky breath and reach up to grab his neck, you capture his lips. He moans against your mouth and you bite his lip. He gasps and tries to pull back but you don’t let him. You hold him to you and slide your tongue into his mouth, which he quickly sucks in. His tongue dances with yours leaving you breathless. 

He leans down to pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands dive under your skirt. He grabs your ass and you roll your hips against his stomach. He walks over to an unoccupied sofa and sits down with you straddling his lap. You run your hands down his body, feeling the chill of his nipple rings against your palms. He pushes your hips down and you lower onto him, his bulge growing harder under you. He suddenly pulls back.

“Wait - do you want to go somewhere private?”

You grind your hips against him and he groans loudly. You can feel eyes on you and it makes you grind harder. You lean forward and press your mouth to his ear.

“I can’t wait… and I want them to watch you take what’s yours.”

Something inside of Rafayel snaps. He rips the mesh top from your body and pulls up your skirt over your hips. His hands roam across your back as he places kisses to your chest. Your relentless grinding makes him nip and lick at your skin in response. He unhooks your bra and tosses it over the sofa, his mouth moving to capture your nipple. You throw your head back and sigh, your breathing becoming more erratic by the second. 

He lifts your hips and you whine, the friction of his bulge against your clothed pussy wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He picks you up and stands, dropping you onto the couch. He kneels and unzips your skirt, pulling it completely off of you. You tug the buttons on his shirt loose and run your hands over his chest. He pulls off the shirt and you reach to unbutton his pants, but his hand stops you. You look at him, confused.

“I have to show you something first, okay baby?”

You nod and lean back. He unbuttons his pants and bends to pull them down completely - along with his underwear. Your jaw drops, literally drops, at the sight of his cock. Not just because he is well-endowed - not to the point of discomfort, but you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow. But because the moment you saw that glint of silver your pussy throbbed so hard you nearly came. 

Right at the base of his slit sat the silver ball, you reach out and wrap your hand around him. He shudders but remains still for you. You run your fingers over his slit, already leaking pre-cum, and roll the silver ball between your fingers. You feel the other end of the piercing underneath, you shift the piercing back and forth. He moans and his hips twitch. You stroke him slowly, working your way down to the silver studs at the base, sitting atop his pubic mound. You moan as your fingers rub across it, imagining how good it will feel against your clit. 

“Having fun, cutie?”

His words are broken, his breathing labored as you work him. You smile up at him and push yourself to the end of the sofa. He reaches his hand out and strokes your cheek. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out and lick his slit. His hands grip your hair and he pulls you away from him. He towers over you, making you lean back onto the couch. He climbs over you and leans down, pressing his lips to your neck.

“How wet are you right now?”

You roll your hips up against his cock and he growls into your neck. He sits back to tug your panties down your legs. He lowers himself again, pressing his entire body against yours. You moan with how hot his skin feels against yours. You wrap your arms around him and cling to him, your legs spreading wider as he settles against you. His hands roam your body, pinching at your nipples, fingering your weeping pussy, palming your ass - every touch sending shockwaves through your system. 

He dips his fingers further into your pussy and you pull your hips back. He looks at you, sweat already dripping down his forehead. You run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes - those beautiful fucking eyes. 

“I don’t want your fingers Raf, please…”

He chuckles and slides his hand down to line himself up. You feel the chill of metal against your entrance and flinch. 

“Look at me.”

You tear your eyes away from his cock and meet his gaze. He leans forward and kisses you. It’s a slow and steady kiss. Your mind swims as you feel his tongue slide in. And then you feel that delicious stretch, his cock sinking into you, the metal balls of his piercing stroking your inner walls. The kiss turns messy as your moans and his gasps harmonize and fill the air around you. Finally your hips jerk forward and you feel his pubic piercing press to your clit. You pull away from the kiss to scream his name, the pressure and chill of the metal overloading your senses. 

Rafayel whines as he holds still to let you adjust to him. You claw at his back and he drops a foot to the floor beside the couch to angle his hips better. You know he’s about to pound into you and make you scream even louder. The thought of the people around you watching makes you delirious. 

“Raf.. I need you– I need you to move, please…”

He doesn’t hesitate and he pulls back until just his tip is tucked inside and then he rams his hips forward, sending you backwards on the couch. You squeal and moan as he finds his rhythm. He rests his forehead against yours and gasps for air, his chest turning red from the exertion. Every snap of his hips pushes his pubic piercing against your clit making it throb and the drag of those inside of you drives you crazy. Finally you feel it, that silver ball hitting that spongy spot that makes your legs shake. You whimper and ignore the tears sliding down your cheek, the pleasure completely encompassing your being. 

“Fuck… I need to come, ahh.. Shit…”

He starts to pull out, but you wrap your legs around him and lock your ankles. He looks at you, his forehead tight as he fights off his orgasm. You release his back for a moment to grab his face, pressing a kiss to his swollen lips.

“Come inside me, baby. Pill… I’m on the pill, just come for me…”

Your command is immediately obeyed, you feel his release and shudder as the warmth fills you. His pace never falters and the added slickness from his release makes his cock slide through you even faster. Your g-spot is hit every single time he thrusts and you finally feel your back arch and your body tremble, your orgasm hits and you scream.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes Rafayel fuck yeeeeessss…” 

As you both come down, you feel his body relax against you. You lean your head to the side and he nuzzles into your neck. His soft kisses help your breathing to steady. You open your eyes and gasp quietly. Rafayel lifts his head and follows your gaze. A small group of people are standing in a circle around the sofa where you and Rafayel are lying. Some of them are holding cards and leaning on each other, some are just smiling and whispering to each other. 

“They want to join.”

Rafayel whispers in your ear. You hold onto him, suddenly very aware of how naked you are - how naked everyone is. Rafayel lifts you, his cock slipping out before he settles you on his lap. He wraps his arms around you protectively.

“We can tell them to leave, if you want?”

You hear your heart pounding in your ears. Before tonight, you never would have thought you’d be interested in experiencing certain things, but now… 

“Are you uncomfortable with anything?”

He looks at you, his brows raised in surprise.

“Another man’s dick in you, for one. Or his tongue…”

“I meant, for you.”

He tilts his head.

“I thought…”

“I don’t want you anywhere near another girl’s pussy. But his… tongue…”

You look up and stare at a particularly attractive man standing on the outskirts of the small group, partially hidden in shadow. He’s tall, broad shoulders, the hard lines of his abdomen glisten with sweat. An intricate tattoo of a dragon starts at his chest, its wings spread across his shoulder and down his arm, the body trails down his side, curving over his abs before its tail spirals down his hip and coils around his thigh. Before you can stop yourself, your eyes shift and damn… you can appreciate a pretty cock when you see one. His black and red mask covers his whole face, but even from a distance, his eyes are piercing. Rafayel follows your eyes and sees him, a blue card in his hand.

“What do you want him to do to me?”

You lean into his ear and nip at his earlobe, his cock springing to life against your thigh.

“I want him to suck you off while I ride your face.”

Rafayel groans, his head pressed into your shoulder. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Only if you want to. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel good.”

He lifts his head and looks at the man, who you’re positive is smiling wickedly. Rafayel gives him a nod and he approaches. The rest of those watching move back slightly, giving your trio more room. The man pulls a large round ottoman over and kneels beside it. His voice is deep and smooth, sending shivers down your back. Watching a man like this make Rafayel writhe with pleasure sends a new slickness to your tender pussy.

“Your ass goes here pretty boy, you lay back with your head on the couch so your girl can sit comfortably.”

He pats the ottoman, now lined up against the couch. Rafayel stares at him, his mouth hangs open. You examine the man before you, you wonder if he’s wearing contacts. Crimson eyes stare directly at Rafayel. Just as Rafayel is about to speak, the man lifts a finger to where his mouth would be. He reaches around his ear and you hear a quiet click. The lower half of his mask detaches and he slides it off, his face now only partially disguised. His smirk is breathtaking, he licks his lips slowly.

“I’m a man of my word.”

You look at Rafayel and narrow your eyes. He shakes his head.

“I’ll explain later.”

You lean in and kiss him, he whines when you pull back. He stands up with you in his arms and sets you on your feet beside him. He approaches the man, who is at least 2-3 inches taller than him. The man places a finger under Rafayel’s chin and lifts his gaze. 

“Your legs don’t move and your hands stay still. If you thrust, I hold you down. I’m doing the work here. Just like she –”

He points at you over Rafayel’s shoulder.

“She is riding. You lay there and take it, got it?”

You watch Rafayel tense, but with how his breathing accelerates you can tell he is turned on. He lays down, positioning himself as instructed. The man kneels and places his hands on Rafayel’s knees. Rafayel looks down and watches the man slowly glide his hands up his thighs. You crawl onto the couch, watching the man caress Rafayel. Finally the man wraps his large hands around Rafayel’s cock and strokes him until Rafayel is panting. The man nods at you and you pull on Rafayel’s shoulders until he rests his head back on the couch. You lift your leg over his head and hover over his face, but he doesn’t let you tease him. He grabs your thighs and pulls you down without warning. His lips close around your clit. You gasp and grab onto his elbows. 

You feel the chill of his lip piercings, his septum ring brushes against the skin just above your clit. And you finally have your answer, how his tongue ring would feel… you’ll never be the same. The ball rolls over your clit, the sudden chill and pressure makes your vision blur. You start rolling your hips. His moans start to get louder and you look up to see the man has started licking Rafayel’s shaft, placing sloppy kisses to his tip. He sucks his tip into his mouth and suckles, the lewd slurping sound he makes pushes you to grind your hips faster. When he finally takes Rafayel fully into his mouth Rafayel’s hips jerk. The man stops and lifts his mouth off of him and you feel Rafayel shake.

“I told you, no moving.”

He presses his forearms onto Rafayel’s thighs and grip his hips. You feel Rafayel’s fingers dig into your thighs as he laps at your clit, making your core heat unbelievably fast. You watch the man take Rafayel back into his mouth, lowering himself until Rafayel’s cock is fully in his mouth. Rafayel shakes under you and whimpers loudly. Hearing him whimper like that could make you come untouched, you’re sure of it. You watch the man’s throat move as he swallows around his length. You grind faster, knowing Rafayel won’t last long if this mystery man is deepthroating him so easily. He finally thrusts his tongue inside you and you lean forward, resting your hands on his stomach.

“Tell him to finger you.”

The man’s rushed words take you by surprise. As soon as he says them he is taking Rafayel in his mouth again. You lift yourself up just enough to hear Rafayel take a deep breath and groan wildly. You shift and bring your knees closer to his head.

“Raf, fingers… in me.”

A cocky smile tugs at his lips.

“I thought you said… you didn’t want my fingers?”

He barely gets the words out before he gasps, the man has shifted and sucked one of Rafayel’s balls into his mouth, his hand stroking his shaft. You look back at Rafayel and smile.

“Do as you’re told, pretty boy.”

You sit back down before he can reply. He quickly lifts his hands and circles your pussy as he continues to work your clit with his tongue. His teeth graze the sensitive bundle and his fingers curl and scissor rapidly against your puffy walls, not giving you a moment to adjust. You lean down and run your tongue over his nipple ring, he rams his fingers into you harder in response, finding your sweet spot. You take the piercing between your teeth and give it a gentle tug and start rolling your fingers over the other side.

You watch as the man starts bobbing up and down, from tip to base he takes Rafayel’s cock over and over.. You swear you can see the outline of Rafayel’s cock in his throat. He starts groaning, the vibration sends Rafayel into a frenzy and you feel your orgasm crest. 

“I’m coming fuck fuck fuck… ahhhh yes Raf yes..”

You hear the man moan and look up to see Rafayel’s release leaking out of the sides of his mouth. That sight makes your climax so intense you worry you might blackout. You feel Rafayel start tapping your thigh and you quickly lift yourself away, he gasps for air but laughs as he relaxes. You crawl off of him and are mortified to see the couch around his head completely soaked, his face and hair drenched. But you can’t find a reason to care when he looks so pussy drunk.

The man stands and wipes at his lip with his thumb, you glance down at Rafayel’s cock and see not a drop of his release is left behind. This man really sucked him dry and cleaned up… impressive. Rafayel sits up and looks up at the man. 

“Debt is paid. See you next week, Rafayel.”

With that, he turns and leaves. You look at Rafayel and crawl onto his lap.

“I’m looking forward to hearing what that was about…”

You try to wipe his forehead with your wrist. 

“Leave it, I like  smelling like you.”

You slap his chest and he chuckles. He looks up to see there are still people waiting. 

“Still in the mood to experiment?”

You don’t even glance around, you just lock your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

“No, I want you to myself. I need to see if my mouth can make you whimper like that again.”

He glares at you and pinches your side. You try to wiggle away from him, but he grabs you and hauls you over to lay on top of him.

“I can promise you, when it’s your mouth, I’ll be so delirious I might speak another language entirely.”  

You kiss his nose. 

“That’s hot.”

He laughs and kisses your nose.

“Let’s get out of here, yea?”

You’ve basically lived at Rafayel’s apartment over Lemuria Studios for the past week. It’s closer to the Association and much nicer. Plus, waking up next to him is a great way to start your day. And being fucked senseless every night is definitely helping you sleep better. 

“You should go by your place after you get off work, pick up some clothes and shit.”

You put down your coffee and stare at him.

“I want you to be comfortable when you stay here.”

You stand up from the bar stool and walk around the kitchen island. He stops chopping vegetables to lean on the counter and look at you. His shirt hangs off your shoulders, the hem barely covering your ass. You run your hands down his chest, placing a kiss over his heart. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you press yourself against him. He rubs his hands over your back and rests his chin on your head. 

“I like changing into your clothes when I get off work. I like using your shower gel so I can smell like you. I like sleeping naked in your bed. I am more comfortable than I’ve ever been.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want you wearing my clothes and sleeping naked…”

You feel his hands glide down your back and pull his shirt up over your ass. The cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver. He leans down to kiss your neck, his hands feeling the curve of your ass and diving lower between your legs.

“I just think you should have some of your own things, you know?”

“I’ll pick up a few things after work.”

His fingers press against the crotch of your panties and you shiver.

“When do you have to leave for work?”

You glance over his shoulder at the clock and smile. You giggle and grab onto his neck, keeping him close.

“About an hour…”

He plants his hands under your ass and lifts you up. He continues placing messy kisses to your neck as he walks you to his bedroom. 

“That should tide us over until tonight, yea?”

Work wasn’t boring, but you were itching to leave and head to your place. The more you thought about it the more excited you were to have your things at Rafayel’s place. You loved smelling like him, but your hair types are very different and his products are definitely not working for you. You planned your entire evening while working. Completing reports, canvassing Wanderer hotspots, scanning physical reports into the digital system - with every mind numbing task, you got closer and closer to the self-care date with yourself. 

When you open the door to your apartment you’re greeted with the scent of extremely ripe bananas. You forgot you’d gotten them the day before the party and now… You close your front door and drop your keys on the entry table. You enter the kitchen and stare at the bananas. As you poke at them, you have an idea. It’s been ages since you’ve baked banana bread, but your grandmother's recipe is a classic. You find the recipe book on your bookshelf and gather the supplies you need. But before you bake, you need “an everything shower.” Badly.

Your shower gel is more floral than Rafayel’s, which is refreshing. And your scalp is finally able to breathe with your products gently scrubbing away the buildup. Shaving takes forever, but it’s worth it, Rafayel’s silk sheets would feel like heaven against your skin tonight. You put on a face mask while moisturizing and dance around your kitchen in your underwear while you stack the ingredients for the banana bread on the counter

Once the bread is in the oven, you grab a small suitcase and start packing up a few essentials. The travel size versions of your hair care products, underwear, an extra work uniform, a set of pajamas - just in case - two casual outfits and your go-to little black dress. You throw the uniform you wore today in the washer into the dryer and go through your fridge in case anything went bad while you were gone. 

You’re setting the trash bag by the front door when you hear a muffled grunt. You press your ear to the door and hear more quiet groans and shuffling feet. You stand on your tiptoes and look through your peephole as quietly as possible. You see what looks like a white helmet and a purple jacket. They’re so close to your door you start to panic. You hear a knock at your door and you freeze.

“Cutie? Are you still here?”

Rafayel’s voice is muffled behind the door. You let out a sigh of relief and swing the door open, forgetting you’re only in your underwear. Rafayel is hunched over against the doorframe, the sleeves of his leather jacket are torn and the left leg of his cargo pants are shredded and bloody. 

“Shit! Rafayel what happened?!”

He tugs at his helmet but can’t get it off. You push his hands away and unhook the straps to pull the helmet off his head. His face is pale and he’s drenched in sweat, but he still smirks when he sees you.

“Damn… what a welcome.”

“Shut the fuck up…”

You lift one of his arms and wrap it around your shoulder. You carefully help him walk into your apartment, kicking the door closed behind you. 

You help him sit down on the couch and drag your coffee table closer to elevate his leg. The fabric is almost completely torn away from his skin and you can see the dirt and gravel stuck in his wounds. You help him remove his gloves and jacket, carefully inspecting his arm to see if there’s any wounds you haven’t seen. You tug his damp t-shirt off and look for any cuts. Bruises are already starting to darken over his ribcage. 

You rush through your room to the bathroom to get a first aid kit and a few towels. You toss your face mask in the trash and put on your robe, haphazardly tying the belt at your waist. When you return Rafayel has his head back on the cushion with his eyes closed. 

“Raf? You with me?”

He opens his eyes and smiles weakly. He tries to sit up, but clutches his side with a grimace.

“Rafayel, you need a doctor.”

He shakes his head, but keeps a hand pressed over his ribcage. 

“It’s not that serious, trust me. I just need it cleaned up. I’m sorry I just showed up like this…”

“Rafayel…”

“I’ll get checked out when my doctor gets back in town. I promise.”

You rub your forehead and reach to turn on another light. You place the first aid kit on the coffee table and rush to the kitchen to grab a glass and a bowl of water. You hand Rafayel the glass, set the bowl down and sit down in front of him. 

“Drink that.”

He doesn’t argue, he drinks the water slowly while he watches you work. You dip a towel in the water and gently try to clean the dirt and gravel out of his wound. He winces, but doesn’t struggle. You start putting a bit more pressure to see where the deeper cuts are and he groans. You look up at him and he has his eyes closed tightly. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

You continue cleaning the wound until it looks clear of debris. You shake a can of antiseptic spray, squinting your eyes at him as he shrugs.

“I crashed, no biggie.”

You grit your teeth and spray a more than generous amount on his leg. His leg shakes and he curses under his breath. He reaches for your hand and takes the can, chucking it across the room.

“Enough! I.. I think it’s clean…”

You flash him a smirk and grab a roll of gauze to start wrapping his leg. 

“I haven’t crashed in a long time, but these things happen. I’m okay.”

You continue wrapping his leg in silence. The feeling he is hiding something ripping into you like a knife. This is a serious injury, he could have lost his leg or worse. He’s a careful driver, you know that. So what caused him to crash? You finally look at the helmet on the floor next to the couch. The white paint on the side is scraped and you can see a thin crack along the visor. But what catches your eye is the intricate red design on the front. 

“Nice helmet.”

“Thank you. I don’t get to wear it often. Guess it’ll be retiring until I get it fixed up, huh?”

You nod. He leans forward and grabs your hands.

“I know it looks bad, but I’ve had worse. Come on, look at me, please?”

Just as you meet his gaze his phone rings. He grabs his jacket on the couch and digs his phone out. His gentle smile drops when he sees the caller. 

“I need to take this, I’m sorry.”

He lifts his leg and tries to stand up, but you push him back.

“I’ll go, you need to keep your leg elevated.”

You walk to your room, closing the door behind you. Holding the handle, you don’t let the lock click. You wait until you hear a hushed “hello” before pulling the door open a crack. You press your ear as close to the opening as possible. Rafayel’s voice is hushed.

“I need to know their name.”

“No, I know. I know. I’d never seen them before.”

“I don’t give a fuck, they almost got Ryūō caught. Cops knew which bike to follow.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of cops. Who is Ryūō? Is that really a name?

“Yea, they caused my crash. No, Zayne’s out of town. Of course I’m not at the hospital, I’m not a fucking idiot. I’m okay, seriously, I need to focus on Ryūō.”

Zayne?! As in your childhood friend, the head of cardiology? That Zayne? Is he Rafayel’s primary physician too? Why can’t Rafayel go to the hospital?

“I want a name by the end of the night, put any expenses on my card.”

“No, don’t say anything. I’ll set up the next meeting and fill everyone in.”

“Yeah, fuck… Okay, have Ryūō call me.”

You’re tempted to swing the door open and confront him immediately, but your brain is swimming with theories. 

“Cutie? You can come out now!”

You open the door slowly. Your eyes narrow and you glare at him from across the room. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and your stomach tightens. As you approach him, he shifts uncomfortably, your gaze finally unsettling him. Just as you sit down to finish treating his leg, his phone rings again.

“Is that Ryūō?”

He looks up from his phone, his expression darkens. You don’t leave, instead you continue wrapping his leg and sit in silence while his phone continues to ring. Finally, he answers it.

“Hey.”

“No, doc’s out of town. I’m okay. It could have been worse.”

“Where’d you stash your bike?”

“No no no, I’ll send someone to get it. Keep your head down for a few days.”

“I’m looking into it.”

“He put down Onryō so I’m guessing it’s personal. Could be you, could be me, or both. I’ll have more info by the end of the night.”

Onryō? As in the Japanese yokai? You remember reading about popular yokai’s before your vacation to Japan after you graduated college. You recall they are ghosts who hyperfocus on vengeance. Their passion could be born out of jealousy or hatred. Does he think this person is trying to hurt him and this Ryūō person? Now Ryūō makes more sense. Another yokai.

“Sy, I am asking you not to look into it. It’ll get too messy if you get involved.”

Who is Sy?

“I know what you can do and I am asking you not to do anything. Please. I will call you as soon as I know anything.”

He hangs up and tosses it on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans, running his hands through his hair before looking up to stare at you.

“Go on, ask.”

You secure the gauze with tape. Picking up a new towel, you dip it in the water and squeeze out the excess before moving to sit next to him. You wipe his face and he relaxes, you continue down his chest. 

“I’m pretty good at puzzles. So… I think I pieced most of it together.”

“Do tell.”

You feel his fingers trace your jaw. You pause and look at him.

“Bikes, cops, code names, someone is messing with you or whoever Ryūō is. My educated guess… Racing?”

He looks down at his leg, his brows furrow.

“Am I wrong?”

He sighs and looks at you again.

“Spot on.”

“So can you tell me what really happened now?”

He pulls the towel out of your hand and pulls you to him. You lean against the couch, careful not to put any pressure on his ribs. Once you settle, he takes a deep breath.

“I’ve been a part of the racing scene for a few years. Ryūō and I started around the same time. Now, we’ve become leaders… kind of? We’re used to having targets on our backs. So we’re careful about bringing new people onto the scene. Today, we held an open race to test the waters and it bit us in the ass.”

“Onryō? You mean?”

“Yeah... They signed in and before the race even started, cops rolled up. They targeted Ryūō and he pulled off the race to pull the cops away from us. That’s when the prick kicked me off my bike on a turn and I fucked up my leg.”

“So you have people looking for this Onryō person, what will happen when they find them?”

“My people will call me. And I’ll deal with it.”

You cross your arms and glare at him.

“And how will you, “deal with it” exactly?”

Rafayel tosses his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.

“I can’t tell you that, cutie, you know that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not going to put your job on the line. You have a duty to report this kind of thing, right? The less I say the better.”

“So Ryūō and Sy, they’re the same person, right?”

Your question makes Rafayel sit up straight, he turns to you and grabs your shoulders tightly.

“Drop it. Please.”

“No. You came to my door, bleeding and bruised and you’re expecting me to just ignore whatever shit you’re into that caused all this? Really Rafayel?”

His grip tightens.

“You’re not getting hurt because of me.”

You reach up to hold his face in your hands. Your thumbs brushing under his eyes.

“I’m a hunter, I am good at taking care of myself. I’m not afraid of whatever it is you’re involved in, but what I am afraid of is you getting hurt.”

He leans into your touch, his cheeks warming and his pale skin starts to flush.

“I know you’re able to protect yourself, but these people… They’re different. They play by a different set of rules and I don’t want you to risk your job or your safety for me.”

“That’s my choice.”

He huffs out a laugh and leans his forehead against yours.

“I know, I just… fuck…”

You kiss his nose affectionately and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You curl up beside him, pressing your face into his neck.

“Let me choose you.”

He rubs your back and your body relaxes next to him.

“So…”

He kisses the top of your head and hums encouraging you to continue. 

“What’s your name? Like your racing name?”

He chuckles and leans back, tucking you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder.

“Kiko.”

You close your eyes, it seems all the racers pick a yokai as their code name. You try to remember the lore behind Kiko. 

“That’s a type of Kitsune, right? A holy fox? No, spirit fox!”

“Yep.”

You shift so you can look up at him. 

“I thought you’d pick something ocean related like… Kōjin or Tatsu?”

“A biker with an oceanic racer alias, purple hair and brightly colored Kawasaki?”

“Oh…”

“Yea, I don’t need cops breathing down my neck at the studio. So I chose something, I guess, that fit my personality?”

“You relate to a fox, huh?”

“Curious, playful, intelligent. Yea, I think so.”

“They’re also very loud if they don’t get love and affection.”

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, you giggle, swatting at him to sit up.

“I guess it’s an accurate description then.” 

You look down at his helmet and squint. The white base and red lines around the eyes and at the center.

“Ohhh… that explains your helmet!”

“Yeah, usually I wear a white leather jacket but I was in a rush today.”

“You don’t race the blue bike you’ve been driving me around on, do you?”

“No, I have a different bike for races. Different colors and fake plates.”

You sit up, cross your legs and face him. 

“Take me with you.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Like, on a ride?”

You smile, a wicked gleam in your eye.

“On a race.”

He stares at you, his mouth open and eyes unblinking. You stare back, your smile unwavering. 

“You realize it’s illegal, right?”

You nod.

“And dangerous?”

You nod.

“And you might –”

You slap a hand over his mouth. He chuckles, the vibrations tickling your hand.

“I know the risks. I want to see more of your world. Especially when mine is so… blah…”

“Hmm mmh mmh hmm huh mhm!” He mumbles, trying to speak to you through your hand.

You move your hand away and pinch his cheek. He grabs your hand and holds it tight.

“You fight Wanderers for a living! That’s not ‘blah’!”

“Fine. I want to see more of your world because I…”

You look down at your lap, trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. He grabs your chin and lifts your face to meet his gaze. 

“Because what, cutie?”

“Because I hope I can be a part of it…”

He plants his hands on your waist and lifts you, plopping you down on his lap. His hands hold onto your ass and he pulls you closer. It’s at this moment you realize you’re still not wearing any pants and the rough fabric of his cargo pants rubbing against your nearly bare pussy makes you twitch. You grab onto his shoulders and try to lift yourself off his lap.

“Your leg!”

“It’s fine, stop squirming.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and shift your knees wider to properly straddle him. He squeezes your ass and rubs his hands down your thighs. You run your hands down his chest and start to play with his nipple rings, which earns you a deep groan. He takes the hint and stops teasing you.

“I want you to be a part of my life, but it’s a complicated one. Are you sure?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair. You lean forward and place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Show me a whole new world, Aladdin.”

He chuckles and bites his lip as he looks up at you.

“My dick is not a magic carpet, but I will take you for a ride.”

You slap his chest and try not to laugh.

“You’re so stupid…”

He seizes the opportunity, with your hands on his chest, to grab your face and pull you to him. He kisses you until you can barely breath, your worries fade. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but you’re sure of one thing - Rafayel has made you feel more alive in the past week than you’ve felt in years. And you’re going to chase this feeling, for as long as possible.

Rafayel finally lets you breathe and you smell something burning. He scrunches his nose and you sniff the air, trying to determine what it could be. Your eyes widen and you scramble to crawl off of Rafayel’s lap.

“My banana bread!”

Part 2

(AN Part 2: Surprise! It's also a crowfish fic. Smile.)

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname

[aayakashii]

For seven days, I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine’s Day in Vagastrom

Alan

how does he show affection?

Through his hands. He is always touching you somehow. If he's nearby, his hands will rest on the top of your head or on your shoulders. Alan's not that good at expressing himself through words, but the way he's constantly drawing impossibly closer to your body leaves no doubt in your mind – he craves you near.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, but will always be hesitant to give them first due to his insecurities. Alan absolutely melts, however, when you settle yourself on his chest and hug him tightly – fondness for you immediately warming his heart and allowing him to hold you just a bit closer. His hugs feel like safety; you found your rock and it will be your very own shelter forevermore.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's quite aware that he's awful at flirting, which is why he doesn't even try. He does compliment you frequently – and meanwhile, his hand goes up to rub his neck in order to dispel the embarrassment, and his eyes are cast downwards. He would love to be able to look at you properly the next time he says you look pretty.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He tries his best, but Alan probably doesn't even realize Valentine's Day is coming around until he overhears some students talking about the date. At that point, there's no time to go out anymore (it's already Valentine's Day after all). So he'll most definitely give you the safe options: chocolate and flowers. He'll try harder next year (he'll ask someone to put a reminder on his phone).

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He falls fast, but it takes him a long time to come to terms with it. Thoughts of being unworthy of you are too loud in his mind most of the time, and he pushes the need to be close to you deep into the corners of his consciousness. When it all boils over and he can't hide it behind his stoic façade anymore, he finally gives in to you and to his emotions, tired (but also relieved).

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Extremely hard. He knows he feels it, that's for sure. But his whole life, he talked with his punches. The words feel weird in his tongue, and it frustrates him. He can only hope he's clearly conveying his feelings for you every time you hug each other. He hopes you feel it all, right there, in the pores of his skin. And you do.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really. He trusts you, even though his confidence might falter and the self-deprecating thoughts might take hold for a moment. You're quick to know when to reassure him, so all the negative emotions dissipate as soon as you hold his hand again.

what is his ideal date?

Wherever you want to go with him. He doesn't have a secret spot, nor a safe place to show you. His garage doesn't feel proper, and the campus holds too many memories he would rather not think about during a date. Wherever you decide to go, it'll be fine with him, as long as you're there.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He doesn't expect anything, honestly. He's fine with just being together, but if you propose to him, he will obviously say yes (after a long, awkward moment of silence in which he was trying to get his bearings straight). If you want HIM to propose to you, you'll have to tell him and express your wishes.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Never really thought of it, doesn't really care about it, but he saw the way GA students were fretting about it, so he figured you might be into the date, like them. If you care, he cares. That's basically it.

does he get protective easily?

He's EXTREMELY protective. Acts like a guard dog – a menacing shadow that follows you around and glares at anyone that might try some funny business. Sometimes, you have to tell him to relax and just enjoy the stroll with you, but his doberman senses just won't turn off, ever.

does he believe in true love?

He never thought much of it. He knows he loves you, so it must be real. He wonders if he deserves such a delicate, sweet experience like being truly in love with you. And every day, you make sure he knows he does.

Leo

how does he show affection?

He would rather be caught dead than explicitly show you genuine affection. Instead, he'll be calling you annoying while draping his legs on your lap and laying his head on the crook of your neck. He expresses his true feelings every single time he clings onto you, never letting go as soon as you come around his vicinity.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He hugs you like it's second nature. He's unable to stand beside you and not hold you somehow, all while acting as if him clinging onto you like a koala is perfectly normal. If you try to hug him, however, he'll throw a hissy fit, much like a cat that doesn't want to be pet.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's fantastic when it comes to flirting ironically with ANYONE. When it comes to flirting genuinely with you, however, he simply malfunctions – much to his dismay, his cheeks burn bright red, he stutters stupidly and Leo wishes a hole could open up in the ground and swallow him. He's great at getting what he wants from others; terrible at getting what he wants from you.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He knows exactly what to give you. But he also thinks about how he could entertain his followers. He'll most likely film your reaction when he gives you the trendiest, most expensive Valentine's gift and relish on the compliments of his fans as they call him a great boyfriend. But don't worry. Once the camera is off, he hands you a smaller, more thoughtful gift. All while saying he just doesn't want you to whine about him not paying attention to you.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He gives his heart to you slowly, little piece by little piece. He doesn't like the vulnerability, nor how much trust is involved with handing you his heart. Therefore, it might take a while until he feels completely comfortable with the thought of being wholly yours.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He never says it, preferring just to think to himself. You've learned to hear the fondness that coats his voice whenever he's thinking that, though. The way his eyes are half-lidded, his smile is sincere, and how he calls you "silly" – which is probably the closest to a compliment that you'll get for a long time.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

He's painfully jealous of everyone and everything. If someone just touches you accidentally, he will go into a fit of jealous rage. Under all the layers of nonchalance and assertiveness, Leo is terribly insecure. He doesn't realize his rage stems from jealousy, nor does he know his jealousy comes from the fear of being left behind. He just lets that green little monster take over his body until you manage to calm him down, and he finally retracts his fangs.

what is his ideal date?

Surprisingly, he wouldn't mind turning off his phone for a little while to spend quality time with you. He would like somewhere calm and quiet, that wouldn't overwhelm his senses. An onsen in a small town isn't exactly the type of place you'd imagine Leo visiting, but if it's to spend time focusing on you, he would very much prefer that.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He wants to ask because he wants it to be pompous and glamorous. He wants to post the photos on his sns, obviously, but more than anything, he wants to keep the memory of every meaningful date for you two registered on as many photos as possible.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He never cared about it, but loved to pretend he's looking forward to it whenever he posts. His flings were never important enough to warrant celebrating Valentine's together, but with you, he's finally gonna know the true experience. You could say he's kinda looking forward to it for real now.

does he get protective easily?

Not really. Most times, he's the one playing damsel in distress. If push comes to shove, however, he'll change his inoffensive behavior in the blink of an eye.

does he believe in true love?

Leo is too much of a skeptical man to believe in things that come from fairytales. But he's open to changing his mind if you want to give it a shot.

Sho

how does he show affection?

He doesn't hesitate to hold you and say sweet words into your ear, but his most genuine way of showing affection is through food. Whenever he asks if you've already eaten, what do you want to eat, if you'd like to try his new recipe – these are all his very own ways of saying he cares deeply about you.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He loves them, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up with every chance he gets. If you hug him first, he takes that as permission to just keep holding you wherever he goes, like you're just a little keychain. His hugs feel grounding and you can feel the comforting scent of bread and cake emanating from his clothes (even if he doesn't even work with pastries).

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's annoyingly good. It genuinely feels like he was born with this skill and he makes good use of it with you. He's all lazy smiles and half-lidded eyes whenever you pass by, kisses in empty rooms with promises of more and compliments that leave you fuzzy and floaty.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's great at gift giving, especially because he's very into making your gifts himself. He's a crafty man and don't people say that handmade gifts are more thoughtful? He'll make you a whole bouquet of paper flowers, carefully painted, that will never wither AND homemade chocolate. And you just know that chocolate is more delicious than any store-bought brand.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

He goes at a normal pace, but once he realizes he has feelings for you, he feels like a middle school kid with a crush. What do you mean he stutters and blushes whenever you're around? He's an adult, for fuck's sake. He confesses to you like he's ripping a band-aid off. He just wanted to get over it as quick and painlessly as possible, shoving his heart into your hands for you to do whatever you want – step on it, throw it away or keep it safe. He was more than relieved when you decided to give yours in return.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

He's still embarrassed by it, so it's quite hard. He says it during meaningful moments, but it still comes out of his lips a bit too stilted. He loves you, he does, but he also has years of building an aloof persona on his back – it was his defense mechanism. It'll take a little while to destroy those walls.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not that much, he just gets mad at the audacity of some people to try and shoot their shot with you. He's quick to appear right by your side and hold you tight and close to him, just to let them know that you're with him.

what is his ideal date?

Sho loves to go to every type of festival with you. Spending time with you trying different foods, finding silly matching trinkets, and playing all sorts of rigged games – that's a perfect day in his book. And of course, the day has to end with you two cuddling after spending so much energy outside.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He doesn't have a preference, honestly. It doesn't matter who asks, if it's you or him, all that matters is that both of you will say yes and start a new chapter of your life together.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Before his food truck, he really didn't care. After his food truck, he just thought it was a great sale opportunity. After you, however, he began seeing it under a new light: a holiday to look forward to, a chance to make it a special day for the two of you.

does he get protective easily?

Very much so, but he's subtle about it. Like when he's jealous, he just stays nearby, ready to step in if anyone ends up being an actual threat.

does he believe in true love?

Sho used to think that these types of things are embarrassing, even a little childish, but when he looks at your figure whenever you're sleeping beside him, he can't help but believe in it a little bit.

[itsnathateasy]

armin being oblivious

word count: 1,2k warnings: angst author’s note: this had been in my head for so long! (ps: i remember seeing the jeans/legs idea on tiktok but didn’t save the link, if you’ve also seen the vid lmk so i can include the reference!) ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

oblivious!armin breaks his own heart by never catching up to your hints. he tries his hardest to endure seeing you flirting with other people and to deal with your constant teasing him, because he really has no clue you’re head over heels for him

you once invited him over late at night for netflix and chill, but his response is “nothing good on netflix nowadays” followed by “besides it’s getting late, rain check for friday?” was this boy living under a rock or something?

oblivious!armin sees how you treat him nicely or even special in some occasions, like how you always text him goodmorning/goodnight or how you order his favourite pastry for him when you’re meeting for coffee, maybe even how you notice his shirt is buttoned the wrong way, so you unbutton it to do it right, too shy to meet each others gaze as you do so

however, oblivious!armin justifies it all by how good friends you are and how you’ve been super close for such a long time, it’s only natural that you do special things for each other, right?

oblivious!armin once compliments your jeans while you’re both drunk at jean’s party, slurring how “your legs look so damn good in those jeans” and you playfully respond with “well, you should’ve seen me without them!”, giggling and laughing

needless to say armin’s face dropped to the floor, baby boy was so confused

“did i say something wrong armin? what happened? thought we were having fun?” you ran your hand on his shoulder, caressing him

“why would you cut off your legs, y/n, wtf? this is your final drink for the night!” he grabbed onto you hand, pulling you away from the crowd and heading outside. he later even checked you everywhere to make sure you’re not hurt and tried to carry you home, but he was so drunk you both ended up on the floor.

“armin, in my humble opinion, it’s you who’s had too many drinks!”

oblivious!armin is always going the extra mile for you, helping you with little things that you’d need done during the day, he’d send you reminders for your groceries or that doctor’s appointment you mentioned you couldn’t skip

oblivious!armin was being so overprotective, even though he’d never admit this true motives behind his actions to you. he keeps tabs on all the people who approach you at parties and makes sure to intervene if you seem uncomfortable, snaking his arm around your waist and kissing you on the temple because “jean is expecting us, y/n, we should go” as he pulls you away from whatever guy was being too pushy

“sorry about earlier, y/n, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you looked like you needed a way out”

“you can’t really think i was flirting with that guy, right armin?”

“why wouldn’t i think that? he looks kinda cute… if only he weren’t being this pushy”

“armin, i’m gonna hold your hand as i say this, but i’d been eyeing YOU. the entire time”

“i know, and that’s why i came to the rescue!” he closed the distance between you by kissing your temple once again. “couldn’t leave my best friend in that awful situation any longer” he pulled back and smiled brightly at you

“are we really though? best friends?” you stared at him, trying to smile at him and play nonchalant, but failed miserably, your smile turning into a crooked frown.

“of course we are, y/n!” he pulled you into his arms and hugged you tight. “don’t question that”

that was the cherry on top of the cake for you. you’d finally had enough with how oblivious armin was being. you realised you’d have to give it to him plain and simple cause that boy wasn’t comprehending shit.

a few days later, you were on your way to brunch with armin, connie, jean and sasha, you were walking behind them with armin, sasha in between the two boys, trying to prevent them from punching each other over a joke.

you reach your hand to hold armin’s and wait for him to react. he doesn’t. he’s simply rubbing circles with him thumb on the outer side of your palm.

you felt your cheeks flush up as you side-eyed armin to see the reaction on his face, only to find him side-eyeing you. holding back a chuckle, you smile at each other, continuing your way to your brunch spot.

once you walk inside the store, you’re all spreading around, looking for the best spot to fit all five of you, and sasha notices you both holding hands when she turns around to ask “do you prefer by the window or by the-” her sentence cut short as realisation filled her eyes.

“i’ll go get the others to that table on the balcony! meet us soon, but not too soon in case… you know… want to be alone… or something...” she even had the nerve to wink at you!

you exchanged a meaningful look with armin, not yet addressing the little situation you had going on for yourselves, and walked behind sasha, over to the table she’d picked out.

the brunch date went smoothly, you had your seat next to armin, as per usual, and you were still being very accommodating for each other, which wasn’t uncommon either. sasha giggling at the pair of you was uncommon. she was being a real nightmare and making you both really awkward, but you didn’t say anything, you knew she meant no harm and was honestly excited about you.

you were so thankful the others never noticed how armin would rest his palm on your thigh, softly moving it up and down in a swift motion, or how you often placed your arm behind his back, moving yourself closer to him, because “your previous posture became painful”.

do i need to repeat that sasha behaved like a kid on a ferris wheel?

“you should really cut down on caffeinated drinks, sasha, you’re almost resembling that squirrel from “hoodwinked”, connie remarked, earning him a great laugh from the rest of you.

at the end of the date, armin and you split from the group as he offered to walk you back home (sasha asked you to “take care” and winked, connie and jean giving her some inquiring looks).

you reached your door sooner than you’d like, but before you could turn around to say anything, armin cupped your face and kissed you and god knows how long you’d been longing for that kiss, that turned deeper and warmer the more you kept your lips attached to each other.

you parted from the kiss after what felt like a sweet eternity, but was probably only a couple of minutes, both breathless, cheeks turning pink.

“today was rather… overwhelming, but do you maybe wanna meet tomorrow and… talk? about us, i mean?” he asked you nervously, fidgeting with his fingers.

“sure thing, armin! i’ll text you in the morning!” and with that, you said your goodbyes (it was "one more kiss, and one more, and one more, and one final kiss, pleeease, y/n!") and you walked upstairs to your apartment.

(I ALMOST DIED OF ANGST, I DIDN’T WRITE THIS POST, THIS POST WROTE ME)

[st7rns]

𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒, m. sturniolo

✿ IN WHICH, everytime matt messed up his girlfriend’s lip gloss

✿ WARNINGS, black!reader, fluff, swearing, kinda suggestive at the end??

✿ RORA SPEAKS, i hope ygs like this! ik it’s kinda short but i js wanted to write smth quick n easy and im a literal lip gloss addict so.

NO. 1

i’m standing in the mirror, layering my lips with my favorite pink lip gloss. my lips were already lined with my signature brown lip liner and the lip gloss just added the cherry on top. me and matt were going out today for lunch, so of course, i wanted to look good.

in the reflection of the mirror, i see matt walk into our shared room. “you look really pretty, baby” he compliments me which makes me smile and reply with a shy, “thank you.” even though me and matt had been dating for almost 6 months, he still made me nervous.

“so pretty i wanna kiss you” he leans in and gives me a sweet, but long kiss. i break away and pout, turning to look back to the mirror at my smudged lip gloss.

“matt!” i whine, “i literally JUST put this on.” i give him a stern look. he only laughs and wraps his arms around my waist from behind, “i’m sorry i just can’t help it when your lips look so damn kissable”

i roll my eyes in reply before reapplying my lip gloss and saying very seriously to matt, “that was your only chance of kissing me tonight, because i’m not about to be putting this back on a thousand fucking times”

matt unwraps his from around me to throw them in the air. “what the fuck? that’s not even fair!”

NO. 2

i was getting ready to record tiktok’s and take pictures because my hair looked good as fuck today and i didn’t want it to be for nothing. i add the final touch, lipgloss, before smiling at my reflection and heading to the triplets’ living room.

their living room literally has the best lighting in the whole house. i scroll through my saved tiktok sounds and land on nicki minaj’s black barbie song, the lyrics saying “i’m a fuckin’ black barbie. pretty face, perfect body.” and instantly smile and choosing it.

as i’m fixing my necklace so it fits just right, i hear the triplets walk through the front door. i lock eyes with nick first, who smiles at me “damn, you look fucking good!”

matt sets the fast food on the counter before looking me up and down, “my girl always looks good” he says proudly. chris snorts and mocks him in a childish voice before saying, “what the fuck did you expect? her to look bad?”

nicks punches chris in the arm, making him grab his shoulder in pain. “stop trying to start arguments cause you’re fucking miserable”

matt laughs and kisses me on the cheek, “she could never look bad” i smile and before i could say anything, he grabs my chin and kisses me on the lips. i immediately break away and groan, “matt, my lip gloss!”

“just put it on again” he shrugs, not even feeling bad. i throw my head back in annoyance, “it was the last of it! i can’t just put it on again” i grab my phone and storm off to the bathroom.

“you know i can just buy you another one?” i hear him yell but i ignore it and slam the bathroom door.

NO. 3

i’m laying on matt’s bed, scrolling through pinterest. we just got back from filming a car video, that lasted longer than usual because chris had to pee a hundred times. that kid needs to really stop drinking pepsi so much.

matt comes in the room, fresh out the shower. he lays down next to me and i can smell his cocoa body wash. i give him a soft smile as i run my hands through his hair. i can’t help but admire him. everything about him. his blue eyes. his pink lips. his stubble above his lips.

“what?” he laughs, staring back at me. i shake my head and quietly say “nothing. you just look so handsome right now” he smiles back at me and snakes a hand around my waist, pulling me closer.

he stares down at my lips before back up at my eyes. i feel him trace patterns on my waist. i look at his lips as well, which only gives him the confirmation he needs to kiss me. it’s a slow and sweet kiss but quickly turns heated, his tongue exploring my mouth.

he breaks away to gasp and cover his hand with his mouth, “i forgot about you’re lip gloss” he giggles. i laugh with him and playfully roll my eyes, “for the first time, i don’t give a fuck about my lip gloss,” i hook my leg around his waist and flip myself on top of him.

“now kiss me” i say against his ear. matt wastes no time connecting our lips and dropping his hand to my ass, squeezing the plump skin.

[splatashahowlett]

missing piece

logan (james) howlett x reader

the record player was playing One piece at a time, your favorite song, occasionally letting out a soft sound of scratching against the vinyl. the bar was crowded and everybody seemed to have a good time. the 70's may become your favorite decade. you've been alive for over a hundred years now but you liked everything about this era; the music, the clothes and the recklessness of it.

you were currently seated at the bar, drinking whatever the bartender had offered you. the guy had been hitting on you all evening, and you figured that free drinks couldn't hurt since your healing factor would keep you from getting drugged. you liked the attention anyway, your ex lover had disappeared on a random tuesday and never came back home. it had been four years since you had last seen him, you weren't mad at him anymore, but more at yourself for thinking a man could keep his promises. so some compliments were always welcomed.

you were watching people dance, the festive atmoshpere filling a void in your chest. whenever you felt alone you would go to a bar, or a pub just to feel something. in those places, time seemed to stop, you could be invisible. nobody cared about you or asked anything from you. sometimes you would dance with a random girl or guy and end up in their motel room just to sneak out the second they fell alseep. you were conscious that this lifestyle wasn't for everybody. in fact, you didn't enjoy it in the slightest. but you didn't have a choice. you didn't have any family anymore, and the only person that counted took off 4 years ago. you didn't work and your only hobby was drinking. you weren't living, but barely surviving. but with time you get used to it, right?

right as when you were about to get up to dance, someone sat next to you. too close for your liking. you turned your head and were met with a drunk looking guy, staring at you like you were some piece of meat. you gave him a look that meant "get the fuck out of here and leave me alone" but he didn't seem to want to comply.

"hello pretty girl, need some company?" he said, or at least that's what you understood. his breath hit your nose and you almost threw up; your heightened senses could really be a pain in the ass sometimes.

"go fuck yourself" you said, walking toward the back door. the guy following you.

"I think I'll need some help with that, my girl" he said, trying to catch up with you. you ignored him, or at least he thought so, and went through the back door, making sure he was still behind you. once you found yourself in a small alley, you grabbed him by the collar and pushed him brutally against the wall.

"I am not your girl" you threatened. the dickhead tried to answer but with your hands on his throat the task seemed more difficult than usual. you hated this petname, it reminded you of things you wanted to forget. you let go of him, letting him fall to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. that wasn't necessary but he deserved it.

you went back inside, planning on gathering your things and then finding a place to sleep. you folded your jacket on your arm and put your pack of cigarettes in your pocket. but as you turned toward the door, your heart stopped. a familiar face looking at you from the crowd. at first you thought you were hallucinating, the fucker was dead. you hoped he would be. it would hurt less. but when he started coming closer you scoffed.

you couldn't do it without a drink, so you sat back and asked for straight tequila. you missed this vanishing feeling the night procured you.

logan sat next to you and asked for a drink. you refused to look at him. you wanted to punch him in the face, alright maybe you were still a little mad at him. seeing him here, and so close to you made you mad. you wanted to kill and kiss him.

"I missed you" he said, looking afar. out of all the things he could have said you weren't expecting this. you scoffed and tightened your grip on your drink.

"shut your damn mouth" you gritted through your teeth, still holding onto your drink for dear life. you had imagined what it would be like to see him again and promised to yourself that you would tell him you moved on and leave him speechless. you never thought you still loved him so deeply. you hated how he made you feel, you hated feeling weak. but you loved everything else about him, and if feeling vulnerable was the price to pay to be with him then you wouldn't think twice about it.

"I didn't have a choice" he added, this made your blood boil. you knew he was telling the truth and you had already forgave him, you just needed to hear him say it. you didn't say anything, didn't ask about the reason of his departure. you kept your mouth shut, hoping he would take the hint and leave. no you didn't want him to leave, you wanted him to think that you wanted him to leave.

"I’m sorry” he muttered. this was your last straw, your glass broke between you fingers, shards of glass flying all over the counter and cutting into your hand. you jumped, startled at your own doing. logan reached for your hand immediately but you moved it away before he could even brush it.

"fuck you" was the last thing you said before running to the bathroom. your healing factor was already pushing the glass out of your flesh but it still hurt as hell.

“let me help you” you hadn’t even hear him coming in. you smiled, amused at the situation. you terribly wanted to give him your hand but your pride told you otherwise.

“why are you here?” you whispered, almost scared that if you spoke louder he would disappear.

“I told you, I miss you”.

“of course you do, that's why you came back so quickly” you said, washing the blood off your hand. “I just know you were bored to death without me" you joked, trying to ease the tension.

logan approached and slowly put his hands on your waist, your back facing him. he then delicately planted his chin on your shoulder. “I know you won’t believe me when I tell you I did this to protect you and that’s fair but I need you by my side, I need my girl” you swore you heard a sob in his voice. you looked up, staring at your reflection in the mirror, you could see logan’s head next to yours he was looking at you. this was the first time you’ve look into his eyes since he left. and they felt like home.

you turned around slowly, facing him. you hands claimed back their place on either side of his face. wiping his tears. seeing logan cry was rare, extremely rare. you felt your heart broke at the sight. he put his hands on yours and closed his eyes, enjoying how your touch felt like after so many years. nothing changed, not his love for you nor what he felt around you.

“let me take you home” he begged

“where?”

“doesn’t matter, home is whenever I’m with you”

you knew that your james was telling the truth, and you knew that you still loved each other.

"I need time, james" you answered, even if your mind was already made you had some self respect. you were about to say something else but logan beat you to it:

“I love you” he breathed.

you kissed him passionately, making up for all the lost kisses.

"I love you most"

you were still upset about what he did, but at the end of the day, you knew he did it for a good reason and that it hurt him maybe even more than it did you, and you certainly couldn’t imagine life without him.

you both cried into the kiss, silently promising to always be on each other's side.

"come on, let's get out of here"

[greenunoreversecard]

Kai,llyod, and Cole hc of them with a s/o that's kinda like a child of aphrodite from pjo? A bit more like piper though, they hate their gift and have to deal with cat callers alot?

I got cat called by way older men on the way home so this would be really comforting.

A/N:sorry it took so long to get this out for you. Ik my words can't offer much, but I'm sorry you get catcalled, it's not a fun feeling.

Sugar and spice-> Gn! Reader

individual headcanons of kai, cole and lloyd with a stunning S/O

Kai:

Kai, despite being extremely similar to his element in a multitude of ways, is an utter gentleman.

Hes always respectful of you, and makes sure to ask before he touches you in anyway, and is respectful with his eyes as well

With this said, as you guys grow close and start dating, he becomes uber protective of you.

He knows your very stunning.

And he knows others know that as well.

But alot of times, these people are creepy and go about saying: "hi, your outfit is cool" weirdly

And so he won't hesitate to punt a bitch into the sun

Most likely to throw a punch before a word leaves the creeps mouth.

And if your ever feeling gross and icky bc of the creeps?

Bros pulling out every stop.

Hes getting Zane to make a 10 course Michelin star meal, he's getting your comfort items, a hoodie (yours or his, doesn't matter) and he's becoming a 10/10 massager

Hes getting self care items, and a bath along with movies and cuddles with a side of shoulder to cry on

But if you get angry about the creeps??

He eggs you on. Agrees with you"YEAH BABE, FUCK THOSE ASSWIPES"

he will actively encourage any fist fights fights want to start with them

Hes your number 1 hype man, as well as comforter

Cole:

This man worships the ground you walk on. Just generally

Also drinks the respect tea (all of them do)

Hes always telling you how amazing you look, and even gives advice for anything you may need

Clothes? Food? Whatever hobby your working on?

He just has a eye for style of all categories

Hes generally also more down to earth, and realizes its much more than looks that makes a person

Which is why it takes him a bit longer to confess, as he wanted to get to know you better first (this man is demiromantic and demisexual)

Hes also fucking oblivious

So when people are more... sly about their intentions, like wording and such, he prolly won't notice

But the second he gets wind of what they are tryna pull

Hes super passive aggressive

And he slings a arm around your shoulder, or hides you behind him

Trys to talk it out first, and if they don't catch the hint they will catch his hands

Hes not... great with comfort tbh

His mom's dead and his dad's lowkey emotionally unavailable so he's not good at it

But he will rub your back when you cry, and buy takeout

He'll also prolly ask kai or Jay about how to comfort you better, bc both had either a sibling or parent.

He would ask Nia buts she's a younger sibling with a emotional brick wall of a brother so it's next to never she did some comforting.

Hes a little confused when it comes to comfort but Hes got spirit

Lloyd:

He has always been a little silly

So expect to bark at your aggressors

Idk why I just see him barking at your catcallers

Besides that

Hes always relied more on personality for if he likes someone, like cole

Not that kai doesn't care for personality he does, but looks plays a bigger factor for kai than they do cole and lloyd

Anyways

Off topic

Lloyd doesn't make a big deal how you look. Like doesn't comment on your outfits like cole.

Doesnt mean he doesn't think you don't look nice, bc he thinks you look lovely always

But moreso doesn't give a fuck

Wear a potato sack, or go naked, he doesn't give a fuck he just wants to get to the mall before it closes to he can check out the anime shops

He Def has a idrc additude, especially in dragon rising i feel, so I think if you want compliments you'd have to be outright about it, whereas the other two just kinda;"aww my partner is lovely🥰🥰"

And he's like;"babe, love you to bits and pieces but hurry the fucketh upeth I wanna get there before the fucking store closes"

And bc of that he's also the worst at comfort

Like he's always been told to suck it up so he kinda just is like... cool you done? And stands there awkwardly. He will get better with time, but please explain how to help better for future moments bc he was a Lil scared when you started crying.

Anyways back to the beginning about when mfs are being creepy

Barks at them

Fr barks

Bc it weird them out and he thinks it's funny

Or just tries to be as weird as possible

Like starts acting possessed

Crawls backwards on all fours like the lady from the ring or smth

If generally weirdness doesn't work he fights them

Though he tries to scare them off first

[alchemistc]

Based on this post by @beefcakekinard because I couldn't flesh it out enough in the tags

read on ao3

could be with you

"Didn't you have a date on Saturday?"

Tommy's eyes dart up. Galway is staring at him, hand on hip, brow raised, and Tommy sighs. "Never said it was a date."

"Yeah, but you had a moony look in your eye. Been a while since I've seen it, but I know your date face."

Tommy does his best to keep things neutral on his face. Clearly that doesn't work, because Galway's expression goes sympathetic immediately.

"Oh, bad date. Damn, Kinard, tough luck."

Tommy's had to get used to the fact that everyone at Harbor always wants in each other's business. It's pretty superficial shit, most of the time, but they always want to know the scoop, anyway.

He feels the flash of disappointment, followed immediately by a lick of defensiveness. Damnit. "Wasn't even a bad date, right up until the end."

Galway looks intrigued, but Tommy's not quite ready to entertain it. He's still stewing, a bit. Annoyed with himself for the way he'd reacted in the moment -- a beat too far because he'd given Evan an easy out and he'd grabbed it and flung it in the opposite direction.

Right, Evan?

God. What a dick thing to say. He'd -- panicked, a little. They both had, in their own ways.

If he'd known, going into it, exactly how new this was to him, maybe he'd have --

Lowered his expectations.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Tommy says, to get Galway off his back about it, and rolls his arms back to tug his flight suit the rest of the way up. And that's the crux of it, really. Tommy's spent too much of his life hiding away, and Evan hadn't even known he had something to hide until -- until what, the moment he realized other people could see them? He hadn't panicked in the moment -- that first moment, Tommy guessed, now that he knew a little more -- when their lips had met. Hadn't panicked in the days between, when the flirting had bordered on ridiculous in their texts back and forth. Hadn't panicked when Tommy picked him up, hand settling at the small of his back to guide him to the passenger side of his truck, or when Tommy complimented his shirt, or on the drive to the restaurant, Tommy nervously tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while Evan rattled on about beekeeping. They'd both been nervous.

Nerves, he understood. Nerves had settled under his skin the moment he closed the door to Evan's apartment, nerves like he hadn't felt in a good long while because he couldn't remember being so immediately charmed by someone in... a while.

Even through most of the date he'd been able to chalk it up to maybe being in a more public setting than he'd realized. They were both in a field that didn't immediately feel inclusive. Both big, manly looking men, and maybe Evan just hadn't done a lot of that before. Maybe Tommy wasn't his usual type. (Hindsight, as they say.)

He could have rolled with the first date with a dude thing -- awkward as it was, surprising as it was, considering the first time a man had come on to Tommy he'd nearly punched him about it. He'd had to reset some expectations, reevaluate some of his preconceived notions on the fly. That wasn't exactly a deal breaker. He liked Evan. Likes him still, in the light of day with a little time to dig into why exactly it had hurt so much to be sidelined in front of a mutual friend.

And he's still a little embarrassed he'd let it get to him enough to make a snide comment that could have outed him when he was clearly not ready to be out.

But it was one date. A good first date, even, until they'd been a bit blindsided by Eddie Diaz.

Which -- he'd walked himself in circles in his own mind about the Eddie Diaz of it all, anyway, half convinced he was slamming headfirst into the middle of some weird co-parents with benefits scenario. The fishing he'd had to do to even attempt to figure out that situation. He's fairly convinced, at this point, that neither one of them has any hidden latent romantic notions, about the other, but that hadn't really helped the situation, either.

"So no second date in the cards, huh?"

Tommy blinks. Swallows. "Nah," he says, but --

But maybe. If the timing was right.

Christ, Tommy, it was one disappointing date with an admittedly sweet, and kind, and fucking gorgeous guy. A guy with a devastating smile and a wide breadth of useless facts and a great ass and enough heart to fill the Greater Los Angeles area.

The text, later that evening, should surprise him more than it does.

Evan 9:34 PM: Hey, could I give you a call later, if you're not on shift?

Tommy stares at it for ten whole minutes, tucked behind a shelf laden with cleaning supplies while the rest of the crew is huddled around a Kings game in the downtime between calls.

I'm on until 8AM, he shoots back, and then stares at it until he gets a read receipt. Up above Evan's latest text there's a full thread he hadn't had the heart to delete, quite yet, and he can still see the image of the chicken Evan had taken his not great hand at drawing blades on the talons of. Call around half past?

It's a bad idea. He's had worse ones, but.

He gets another read receipt before he can flip away from the conversation, and three little dots that appear and disappear four times before another message pops through.

Evan 9:47 PM: Talk to you in the morning!

And then.

Evan 9:47 PM: Have a good shift. Be safe!

Shit.

--------

He's played out the phone call all the way through about twelve times in his head. Evan's a good guy. Sweet, kind, a little sassy but never mean. He's expecting a thank you, maybe an apology, although he doesn't need it.

He pulls the truck into the closest parking lot when Evan's name flashes across the screen.

"Hey," he says, once he's parked and prepared for the softest let down he's had in years.

"Uh - hey, hi. Hi, Tommy."

Evan Buckley says his name like a benediction. He's never really noticed the way it sounds, until Evan Buckley started saying it. God, this one might sting.

"Hi," he says. They drift into silence.

"Hi. Sorry. Hey. I called you. So. I should. I should say what I wanted to say."

"I'm all ears," Tommy tells him, charmed despite himself, wishing he could see his face.

"I --." The pause is...long. Awkward. Tommy wonders if he's running over a script on his head. "Actually, could we -- do you have any time this morning? Could we talk in person? If -- I mean obviously if you have plans, or, hell, you just got a shift, I'm sure you're tired, we don't have to --."

"I'm about thirty minutes out from home. Let me take a shower, run a few errands. We could meet around noon?" Bad idea. Still. But there's a small, tiny piece of him that thinks Evan might work through his shit at a much quicker speed than Tommy could ever manage. At the very least, he owes it to a younger, angrier Tommy to play this out.

"That -- yeah, that'd be..." He pauses. "You're sure?"

"I'll send you a pin. There's a coffee shop near where I'll be."

"Okay. Okay yeah. I -- just let me know if you're running late, or anything. I'll. I'll be there."

"I'll see you in a few hours, Evan."

"Okay. Yeah. See you in a bit."

Neither one of them hangs up.

Evan's nervous laugh fills the cab, and Tommy presses his head back until he can feel the headrest pressing into his skull. "Bye, Tommy. See you soon."

----

He'd slept where he could, the night before, actually feels pretty well rested, for working an overnight, for spending every free moment wondering what the hell Evan wanted to call him about, for trying real damn hard to temper his fucking expectations. His two wolves are disappointed expectations and romantic notions, constantly warring with each other.

Evan shoots him a text as he's leaving the barber two doors down.

Evan 11:49 AM: Headed out to the patio, see you in a few

Tommy is absolutely not drawing conclusions about him showing up early. None.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and ducks into the walkway that leads to the courtyard around back.

He'd chosen this place for a few specific reasons -- proximity to his haircut appointment, proximity to Evan's apartment, his knowledge of the lobby of the coffee shop and all it's private little nooks tucked away in corners. Something to ease Evan's mind, a little.

Yet when Tommy finally spots him, he's in the middle of a crowded courtyard, already seated, wearing a light, airy looking polo that stretches tight across his shoulders, and his smile when he spots Tommy burns brighter than the sun on Tommy's newly-shorn scalp.

Tempered expectations.

He doesn't sit, right away. Maybe this had just been an easier way to find each other in the midday crowds. Maybe this conversation won't be long enough to merit sitting.

Evan gestures at the coffee he'd apparently gambled on, and Tommy finds himself sitting before he can talk himself out of it. His posture is a mess, he knows it, but he can't quite help curling in on himself, feeling small as Evan studies him, as the white noise of the people all around them fills his ears. The coffee is terrible. The company is dangerously enchanting.

Evan Buckley goes from zero to sixty in under a second.

-----

Tommy is good at keeping a lid on the part of himself that longs to be romanced, to do some romancing of his own. He's had enough flops to be hyper aware that the reality of dating never follows a soppy script.

Evan says I think that something could be with you and reality takes a rain check, for a minute. Tommy shifts. Tommy flounders. Tommy had prepared for an easy let down, a promise to stay friends and a few awkward encounters in the Diaz living room. Tommy fights the smile, takes a deep breath, admits what he's been trying to deny since he cut things short.

"You already know that I'm interested." It's an easy out -- he's good at catching the ball and tossing it back immediately. It's a risk, but he thinks he and Evan are on the same page about what Tommy's willing to sacrifice, and what he isn't. Evan had made it a point to be out here in the open for this conversation, after all.

Evan takes the shot from half-court.

It catches the rim. Wobbles. Spins.

"Evan," he says, and he means it to sound stern, a hint of incredulity. He's not entirely sure it hits the mark.

And then he's doing that thing he does -- bright-eyed optimism, body language open, a smile curling at his mouth, pressing, pushing, digging into the rocky crevices of Tommy's skepticism and wiping them smooth. It's an insane idea. He's been to...two, three weddings with a date of his own? All long term relationships, because there's something about witnessing eternal vows next to someone that means something to you, something that makes it all a little more real.

But Evan is persistent. And dropping very loaded clues, hinting that he's talked to his sister about him -- them. Tommy doesn't know much, but his relationship with his sister had come up in conversation, he knows they're close. Hinting that he's well aware an invite means he's pulling the lid off 'picking up hot chicks' secrecy.

He doesn't even get all the way through "Are you absolutely sure about this?" before Evan is grinning, leaning in to meet Tommy's gaze, an emphatic confirmation escaping him, and suddenly it's intimate.

Tommy can't think of a reason to say no.

[jinuaei]

Dare

I saw a vid on twitter where the dude came while tattooing his own dick. Couldn't get out of my mind so now I have to write it about Leon because he's my muse. RE2r Leon in my mind but with a lil bit RE4r body. NO OUTBREAK HERE.

I also don't have any experience in tattoos in general so pardon me for getting stuff wrong.

Update: Put the vid in question, unsafe twitter link underneath the fic

Warning: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Multiple orgasms(Leon), tattooing, needles, dacryphilia, UNSAFE LINK BELOW

Word count: 2.2k

Leon S. Kennedy x Tattoo artist! Reader

This was a bad idea.

Leon feels stupid standing outside the studio, he can't believe he's actually going to do a stupid dare that Chris forced him to do. He's going to get his dick tattooed. Thankfully, Chris was gracious enough to give him the freedom to choose his own tattoo.

I'll just get a small one and go.

But once he steps in and is greeted by the tattoo artist, he realizes that maybe he might get a bigger one after all.

You stood there with a smile, the tattoos on your body proudly shown to the world-- and holy fuck it was hot. He stammers a hello and nervously looks around, feeling awkward being in a place that he clearly doesn't belong in. There were a few people inside, 2 customers and another tattooist doing work on one of them, and of course there was you.

Chuckling at him, you guide this bumbling blond to your chair, showing him a catalogue of the designs that you do. He was overwhelmed with the choices so ultimately he just looked at you with his big blue eyes.

"Uh.. could...could you choose one for me? Something that you think would look good on me..."

...

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE ONE FOR YOURSELF???

He mentally punched the air when your relaxed eyes clashes with his wide ones, berating himself for probably annoying you with his indecision.

I-I mean, I don't really know much about tattoos so it would be a good idea to ask them right? I-it's not because I think they're gorgeous and want their approval or something right?? Yeah..

Expecting irritation crossing your face, he braced himself to get screamed at but instead he was met with giddiness. He relaxes under your eyes, finally keeping his nervousness under control.

"I'd love that! I was meaning to do a design I came up with recently, so if you don't mind I can do that to you?"

He nods eagerly, like a happy puppy getting asked to go on a walk.

"Great! Where do you want to get tattooed so I can modify it based on the area."

Leon's blood runs cold as the nerves came back ten fold. He forgot that he was going to get a tattoo, on his dick.

"...my dick." He tries to tell you but it only comes out as a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"My dick...!"

"Sorry could you repeat tha-"

"My dick!!! I'm gonna get my dick tattooed...!" He finally shouts, panting, exasperated.

The studio is quiet except for the buzzing of the machines, everyone's eyes was on him. He feels his face flush and tried to hide himself, scrunching into a ball, or close to it at least without looking like a pathetic baby in front of you. But being the angel that you are, only laughed and waved those staring at him as if to say 'this is normal'. Your assistant also laughed but directed the costumers attention to himself, explaining how newbies get nervous like that.

The blond unfurls himself, looking at you with sad eyes. You pat his head and he won't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry dude, we don't judge here. Luckily for you, I have experience in that regard, but you don't look like you have any. Fresh meat?"

"Yeah... This is my first time."

"Bold of you to choose a sensitive part of your body. Really brave bud."

A smile creeps onto his face, delighted at being complimented by you. Yet his mind wanders back to your words earlier, you tattooed other peoples dick before? Internally shaking his head, he then asks when they'll start, which you promptly answered with a right now if you're ready, in which he agreed excited to get done by you... The tattoo he means.

You lead him to a different part of the studio, a more private area to be exact, its smaller with only one chair for the client. Due to him being too excitable he forgot how embarrassing it would be for people to see his dick in general. But if it's you... Of course it's fine! You're tattooing him after all, this is professional work, be professional Leon.

He sits on the chair after you instructed him to, you then proceed to tell him to strip his pants and underwear and roll up his shirt. Before he did that though he had to ask something important.

"Does it matter if I'm hard or not...?"

"Nah, it'll still look the same whether it's flaccid or erected."

Nodding shyly he starts to strip off slowly, almost teasing, which embarrasses him further since he imagines himself looking like he's giving you a strip dance. You wait there patiently, head lowered, arms crossed, eyes switching between his pants to his own. Eventually he lowers his pants and underwear to his ankles, shirt blocking his dick, but when he raises his shirt your eyebrows raise when you see how hard he is. Red angry tip, twitching under your scrutiny.

"Do you like it...?"

"Hm. You're bigger than I expected. Great abs too."

That made him more confident, puffing his chest out in response. He laid down on the chair, readying himself with what's going to happen. On the side he can see you prepare a piece of paper with your design on it. Staring at you, he admires the tattoos that litter your whole body, your arms filled with dark ink, one half filled with intricate details of crosses and angels, he can also see some weird sigils, rings with what looks like Latin on it and stars. He can only assume that underneath your clothes there are more than what he is allowed to see.

The young mans imagination is cut of with a jerk of his hips, startled he looks at you wide eyed and scared. He tried to apologize profusely but you only shook your head and explained that you needed to put the stencil on his dick. Luckily he survived the stenciling as it was done faster than he expected, he can't say the same for the actual tattooing part though.

You we're thankfully very patient with him, caressing his thigh before starting, which his body reacted with a jerk that he somewhat kept to a minimum.

The first thing he noticed was the loud buzzing of the machine, the next is the vibration, finally-- the pain. It was bearable, but that was not the horrific part of this situation, no, it was the fact that he was enjoying the constant stabbing, combined with the vibrations it felt so good on his cock. Leon wouldn't say that he's a masochist, but damnit whatever the fuck is happening turns him on so fucking much.

Shaky breaths start to come out of his mouth, it was getting harder to breathe with the constant stimulation and if he focus hard enough he could actually feel your breath on his thigh. God you were so close to his dick.

"O-oh! Oh God...huff... shit. I like it, why the fuck do I like it???" He mumbles to himself, biting his cheek to suppress the moans that's bubbling up from his throat.

He tries so hard to focus on something else, the paperwork left on the station-- the vibrations... Chris' smug face when he told him the dare-- feels so good..! His best friend at home, his good ol' dog-- FUCK!!!

"STOP!! Stop...! Fuck. Ah...sorry, it's just hahh... Feels too good."

He pants harshly, fingers holding on the smooth leather for dear life. He feels humiliated under your stare, tears starting to prick at his eyes, making it hard to decipher the expression on your face but he can feel the heat in your eyes.

Your eyes hungrily take in his body, appreciating his muscles as well as his pudge in certain areas. With such a sensitive man in front of you, you get to see all of his reactions. The way his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed, his lashes accentuated by the heavy blush spreading from his face. Every flinch causes his body to flex and it is truly a sight for sore eyes.

However, since this is a professional setting, you as the professional doing your job, and him, the client just getting a tattoo on his weeping cock. The same cock that you have to wipe over and over as it drips pre-cum over your work. You tried your best to hold back, managing to stop yourself from ravaging this delectable hunk in front of you. But it was soooo hard to do so.

God... What a cute little thing he is. Makes me want to eat him up.

You tried to wait patiently for him to calm down, you waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes for it to stop twitching but it just wouldn't. stop. dripping. Ultimately you gave him a choice, either you stop here and work on it another time or you keep going regardless of how currently sensitive he his.

A whimper came out of his mouth when he sensed you getting more and more impatient with him. Wanting to please you he chose the 2nd option. The faster he's done the better right?

"If you're gonna cum, tell me."

"Wha- Hngggh...!"

The needles start up again and Leon really held himself back, gripping on the leather beneath his fingers. It worked for a moment but the sensation proves too much when his body jerks forward from a particularly more painful-- but delicious, jab of the needle. His hips was then forced down by your hand slamming itself on his pelvis. Your touch almost made him fall off the edge of the cliff but at that exact moment he had a brilliant idea to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

"Hahh...hng! Fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Pleasepleaseplease...!"

And then immediately proceeding to cum all over his chest and your hand that is still pining him down. Even then you were not strong enough to fully hold him down, his hips almost flying from the chair. Tears stream down his face, a mix of humiliation and pleasure dripping to the leather below. As he calms down from his high, he hears shuffling before suddenly, a weight plops down onto his lap. You didn't even warn him before starting again.

"Wait...! I'm still hnggg... I'm still sensitive!" Not knowing if you heard him or not, he tries again but is cut off with a moan.

"Don't move too much because I'm not stopping until it's done."

You're gonna be the death of him.

Finally after so so so so long you were done with his tattoo. Leon is spent, lying there chest covered with his fluids, t-shirt soaked with a mix of tears, drool, and probably semen. He was still twitching, eyes rolled back, overstimulated to hell and back. He doesn't know how much he came, thrice? Four times? Maybe even more than that but God was it amazing. Nothing could prepare him from the tenderness that you exude as you wipe the tears from his cheeks. You leaned in, face hovering over his as you look him in the eye, cooing at how much of a good boy he is for handling everything so well.

"Thank you... hahh hah..."

You hopped off his lap and went to get a mirror for him. He feels a little loopy with the dopamine rushing through his brain but that didn't stop him from thanking you. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes look at the mirror, showing his cock being held by you. Focusing on the design he can tell how much love you put on it.

It starts from just below the head, the whole thing wrapping around his whole dick. It was something akin to an insect, maybe a scorpion with 4 sharp legs, the head of the creature sprouting tentacles. The tail of it was long, twisting around until it stops, the sharpened end on the base, close to his balls. It was honestly really good, the shading makes it look realistic, almost like it will jump at him and bury itself into his skin. He's kind of sad that it's not similar to any of your tattoos. Still, he's happy to have been marked by you.

"Did you bring extra clothes?"

"What?"

"You can't walk around the streets with a cum stained shirt, and you need to wear looser pants so it won't irritate tattoo."

Chris you better fucking pick up.

I should've called Luis instead.

Chris brought him clothes, probably from his own closet and Leon knew when Chris arrived because he could hear his boisterous laughter right outside the private room. SHIT! If I could hear him, people definitely heard me earlier.

After dressing up and doing the walk of shame towards the main studio, he sees Chris and your assistant laughing their guts out. Yeah they definitely heard me, and he's probably telling Chris everything.

You went over to them and smacked the tanned guy upside the head, introducing him as Carlos. Leon strains a smile, regardless of how much he wants to curl up into a ball and die. But Carlos reassures him that it actually happens and how he also cummed from you tattooing his dick, although he was not as loud as him. After that he was informed how to do aftercare for the tattoo and both him and Chris were off to go home.

Sitting on the passengers seat, Leon tuned out Chris' teasing and how 'I can't believe you actually did it!' and 'Imagine cumming while getting a tattoo LMAO'. On his hand is a piece of paper, written inside is your number and a note that read; 'See you when it heals ;)'.

Hey, maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

The vid in question:

[bangtanintotheroom]

On the Nose (M)(Teaser)

I'ma put this pussy on your face

Open up boy, come and get a taste

🔊 just wanna - iggy azalea (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: Dokyeom x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Humor, Smut, Friends to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words (teaser): 338

• Summary: Seokmin thinks his nose might be too big. You’re quick to give him reasons as to why he’s wrong.

• Warnings/themes: insecurity, reassurance, OC with the compliments 🥹, Seokmin getting carried away, face-sitting, oral (f. receiving), groping, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

• Notes: Since Mr. DK won the recent poll, I’ll be posting him next! I’ve had most of it done since it’s a short one, but I wanted to wait until the end of my vacation to do the teaser. Expect it to be out in the next few days! 🫡✨

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO OR YOU WILL NOT BE TAGGED.

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @chans-room @firesighgirl

Reminder that I have a permanent taglist if you’re interested in all future fics I post!

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is my nose too big?”

Your friend’s out of nowhere question made you pause your mobile game and look up in bewilderment. You found him standing in front of his dresser, head leaned in close to the mirror.

“What? No, it’s not.”

Seokmin hummed, the tone unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You can be honest with me, y’know.”

Frowning deeply, you set your phone down and rose from the bed to walk over and stand next to him.

“Seokmin, why would I lie? Your nose is fine. Did someone say something about it?”

“No…”

His trailing off did not deter you from digging deeper.

“Seokmin.”

Your biting tone and hard stare made him flinch, not wanting to feel your wrath.

“No one said anything, per se, but they were looking. Really hard.”

“Who?”

Seokmin’s reflection shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Multiple people. We’d be having a conversation and I’d just notice their eyes going to my nose at some point.”

“You know what else big noses are really good for?”

Seokmin turns to look down at you with curiosity and a hint of eagerness.

“What?”

You look up at him, face blank like a sheet of paper.

“Sitting on.”

He became a cartoon character immediately, eyes bugging and mouth flying open to let out a yelp while his hands covered his ears.

“Y/N! What?!”

“Hey—” You reached up to rip his palms down so he could hear properly. “—it’s true!”

“Is it, you…you…pervert? Or are you just making things up to make me feel better?!”

A scowl came across your face as you lightly punched his arm.

“I’m serious, idiot! Have you never heard of a girl using someone’s nose to get off?”

“No! Well, I mean, maybe, but I wasn’t paying attention if anyone did say that.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and readied yourself to continue convincing him.

“It’s true, okay?”

Seokmin blinked before squinting his eyes.

“And who’s your source?”

You met him with nothing but passiveness.

“Me, myself and I.”

[tisayemate]

Lucky

Peter Hayes x small!Reader

Idk what to call it at this point. Not fluffy enough to be a fluff or angsty enough to be angst. Just for your amusement ig.

Summary: Peter Hayes has always thrived on cruelty, sneering at others’ weaknesses to make himself look stronger. But when you—a quiet, seemingly small Dauntless initiate—beat him in a trial, he’s forced to see you in a different light. 

AN: in this one, I imagined it to be that reader is small in size and often undermined but you could imagine it and tailor it to your preference. (Maybe that she just SEEMS weak or smth)

The lights of the Dauntless training room cast long shadows across the stone floor, the sound of fists hitting punching bags and the grunts of effort filling the air. You stood off to the side, small and unassuming compared to the towering forms of the other initiates. But looks, as you’d proven time and time again, were deceiving.

You cracked your knuckles absentmindedly, watching as Peter Hayes towered over some poor recruit, a smirk curling his lips. Peter thrived on being intimidating. He fed off the fear that shimmered in the eyes of those around him, always sneering, always two steps ahead of his peers—if not in skill, then in sheer malice. He was, in many ways, the embodiment of Dauntless’ harshest traits.

But today, things were about to change.

"Alright, fight time," Eric barked, pacing along the sidelines like a predator circling its prey. His cold gaze swept over the group before landing on you. His lip curled in an almost-smile. "You."

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, and you didn’t flinch under their scrutiny. If anything, you felt a rush of adrenaline course through you. The room grew quieter, expectant, as Eric nodded toward Peter. "You’re up against him."

Peter's smirk widened. He didn’t even try to hide his amusement. "Really? This ought to be good."

You rolled your shoulders back, stepping into the circle without a word, feeling the weight of all the eyes on you. But you were used to being underestimated. It was your advantage, your weapon.

Peter sauntered forward, cracking his neck as if the fight was already won. His confidence radiated like a toxic cloud, infecting the room with tension. His smirk deepened as he came to a stop a few feet from you, towering over your smaller frame.

"You sure you’re up for this, sweetheart?" he drawled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You ignored the taunt. There was no need to respond. The game had already begun, and Peter just didn’t know it yet.

"Fight!" Eric’s voice echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Peter moved fast, closing the distance between you in a single step, his fist swinging toward your face with brutal force. But you were faster. You ducked, sidestepping at the last second, causing him to stumble forward.

His eyes narrowed as he straightened, his smirk faltering for just a second. "Lucky."

But luck had nothing to do with it.

The next few seconds were a blur of motion. Peter lunged again, his movements aggressive, fueled by arrogance. Each time, you dodged or blocked with fluid precision, making him look clumsy. The others watched in stunned silence, whispering among themselves as you began to gain the upper hand.

Peter’s frustration grew, evident in the tightening of his jaw, the wild swing of his fists. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone who looked like you.

Finally, you saw your opening. Peter’s guard dropped for just a moment, and that was all you needed. You spun on your heel, sweeping his legs out from under him with a swift kick. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, the air knocked out of him as you stood over him, victorious.

For a moment, the room was still. Peter lay on the ground, eyes wide with shock, while you stood above him, not a single drop of sweat on your brow.

Then, slowly, Eric’s voice cut through the silence. "Impressive."

It was one word, barely a compliment, but from Eric, it might as well have been a standing ovation. His expression remained unreadable, but the flicker of approval in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Eric wasn’t one to show emotion, especially when it came to initiates, but even he had to respect what you’d just pulled off.

Peter groaned, pushing himself to his feet, his cocky façade crumbling as he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He glared at you, anger boiling beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—something he would never admit. Respect.

"You got lucky," Peter growled, brushing himself off.

You met his glare head-on, unflinching. "No, I’m just better."

There it was—plain, simple truth. And Peter, for once, had no snarky reply. He clenched his jaw, still trying to nurse his bruised ego, but the look in his eyes told you that he knew. He knew you weren’t someone to mess with.

Later, after everyone had left the training room, you sat alone, wrapping a bandage around a scrape on your hand. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving you with a dull ache in your muscles and the satisfying knowledge that you’d bested Peter Hayes.

But you didn’t have long to savor the victory.

"You really think you’re something, don’t you?" A voice sneered from behind.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Peter’s smug tone was unmistakable. You rolled your eyes, continuing to bandage your hand.

"I mean, you got lucky once, but let’s not pretend like you’ll always come out on top," Peter continued, stepping into your line of sight. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, that infuriating smirk plastered across his face again. "You’re just a little fighter who had a lucky day. Don’t let it get to your head."

You glanced up at him, unfazed. "Sure, Peter. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Peter’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t act like you’re better than everyone. We both know you don’t belong here. Just a little girl playing soldier."

The words were meant to sting, but they rolled off you like water. You had heard worse, from worse people. Peter’s insults weren’t anything new, and they certainly didn’t get under your skin the way he hoped they would.

You stood up, facing him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "It’s cute how you think you can still intimidate me after I wiped the floor with you today."

Peter’s face darkened. "Watch your mouth."

You shrugged, turning to leave. "I don’t need to watch anything. I’ve already seen enough."

Peter opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. For the first time, it seemed like he had no comeback, no witty insult to throw at you. You walked away, leaving him standing there, simmering in his bruised ego and thinly veiled frustration.

As you left the room, you couldn’t help but smirk. Peter might never stop trying to tear you down, but you weren’t going to let him win. Not today, not ever.