#lick library

[binah-beloved]

Binah spontaneously gaining cat ears and a tail due to some Abnormality or another. her clerks and agents gather around her in a wave of anxious chatter, contemplating what to do. she's not really listening. this isn't nearly the worst thing that's ever happened to her. if anything, the most irritating part is how much she's being crowded, how loud everyone is to her now much more sensitive hearing. the door to the common room opens, and her ears flick as she idly tilts her head to see who came in.

Binah's eyes land on you, and her pupils immediately dilate. it's not obvious. her irises are nearly the same color, after all. but the telling twitch and lash of her tail is less easy to hide.

without saying a word, Binah leaves her other subordinates and makes her way over to you. there's little time to process her new features before she's standing right in front of you, staring silently with a quiet, slow blink. she leans closer, and with uncharacteristic gentleness, bumps her forehead against your own, then your cheek, then brushes the tip of her nose over yours. her hands raise and begin to slowly knead the tense muscles in your shoulders as a soft, steady purr echoes from her chest.

Binah unabashedly nuzzles against you, and your coworkers look on, dumbfounded.

[kathbunny]

Hi. Library monster Maxim licks VR-LA. This is very short and not canon to the au.

VR-LA's hair was messy. And dirty. Blood and dirt clung to it from his latest monster encounter before entering the library, but he was much more focused on bandaging his injuries, sitting facing away from Maxim. Maxim's face twitched slightly, crinkling his nose slightly.

Entirely without thought, like a mother to her kitten, Maxim licked the back of VR-LA's head, stopping in the middle of the motion as he realized what he was doing. VR-LA had also paused, seemingly just as confused.

"...Maxim, what-"

"We're not talking about that." Maxim said, standing up and leaving as quickly as he could.

[halalgirlmeg]

The library waited until July 1st to have the polyam romance available, the month where I'm booked and busy!

[inlovewithquotes]

Don't settle for scraps from anyone. I'm planning on handing you the world; anything you want, just ask for it, and it's yours.

-Lick Of Fire

[binah-beloved]

I start to cry because she is beautiful and become a statue, i cant move, she need to sleep

good answer. Binyah will curl up and have a lovely little nap, and when she wakes up she will bump her head against your hand. you should scratch behind her ears, she likes that

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small ���Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

[trvthservm]

let’s talk virgin!geto who might be inexperienced but knows what he wants.

you both have been dating for a good few months, early years of college and can’t get your hands off each other. he’s the sweetest boyfriend you could ask for, possessive sure but he always treats you right. it’s one of his first serious relationships while you had dated around before, plenty of experience up your sleeve. he makes sure to kiss your forehead, carry an extra jacket because he knows you will get cold and drives you around the city on his bike.

geto who’s ears are completely red when you spend the night with him for the first time ever. he made sure to kick his roommate out so he could have his complete attention on you. he cooks you your favourite meal and has your favourite rom com waiting to play on the television but deep down inside he’s busy thinking about how you look underneath all your clothes.

it’s not like you haven’t touched each other before. you find yourself often pushed against the library wall with geto’s pierced tongue in your mouth, his tattooed hand travelling under your top to play with your breasts. more than once you’ve been caught by a fellow student who had the misfortune of witnessing your very public display of affection instead of a physics textbook.

so when you are in his flat, hips straddling his thighs on his old couch, geto almost moans out loud. he watches you as you grind your ass against his clothed cock, not innocent on his side when he intentionally wore grey sweats. “slow do— fuck! slower! baby” he groans as your gyrating hips make him leak through, the friction between your shorts and his sweats enough to make his eyes roll back.

when he carries you to his bed and lies you flat, it’s like a dream come true. you pull down your shorts and stop, inviting him to do the rest. geto does not need anything more to use his pearly white teeth to drag your pretty black panties leaving it to hang around your ankle. he can’t afford to wait when all he has ever dreamed off is spread open waiting for him.

you look up to him with glossy eyes and your lip tucked under your teeth when you hear him say the words — “i have never done this before.”

confused you get up, supporting your body on your elbows. he looks away turning red at his own brazen admission, and only looks at you when you pull down his sweats to help release his girthy cock, precum beading at the tip. he groans when your much smaller hands begin to jerk him off, cooing about how good he is being for you. there’s a teasing tilt to your tone because it’s not everyday you learn your hot boyfriend is a secret virgin! you continue to jerk him off and tease him for acting tough when he decides can’t take it anymore, the way you talk to him like he’s too innocent to touch you back.

geto shows you that despite being your good boy, he can make you eat your shit eating grin when he pins your thighs down. his mouth is on your dripping cunt, tongue licking your clit in slow circles. he does not stop when you cum on his face, he does not stop to take a break when his ringed fingers enter your wet entrance, squishing and squelching echoing throughout. he does not stop until there’s a ring of your cream that parallels the silver rings he wears and the lower half of his face painted with your slick juices.

you don’t start worrying until he picks you up and holds your legs open in front of his full length mirror so he can slip his heavy cock past your spread folds and just to say, “fuck baby, wanted my first time to be in missionary looking at your pretty face but i think full nelson might be better for your bratty pussy.”

[britneyshakespeare]

thinking about eric rasmussen who identifies and catalogues known surviving first folios of shakespeare being asked about if it still feels special every time he touches a new first folio and saying

I think it’s rather like a doctor who delivers babies, and you may have delivered 230 babies, but each one is still a miracle, and each one is still beautiful...

[sleep-0-deprived]

What would it be like if nerdy reader liked erotic books and liked to replicate scenes with yandere Bully?

Yandere bully x nerdy male reader reading erotic books~ ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

Just imagining your sitting on a chair in the empty school library reading your books during study hall with your face indulged into the book occasionally peeking back over your shoulders making sure no one is behind you when you’re reading, “what’cha readin?” The voice makes your back go all stiff turning around and lo and behold your favorite obsessed bully right behind you with his grin obviously knowing what you were reading.

Just imagining you getting pulled out of the library dropping whatever piece of erotica was in your hands while he whispers something like “if ya don’t want me to tell the school what you like to read then you’ll suck me off just like that girl was doin in that pervy little book of yours?” He’d mumble pushing you on your knees making you suck at his cock through the fabric of his jeans just watching you all hard on the bathroom floor rutting your bulge into his shoes.

Just imagining you working up the courage after school to beg the Yandere to let you fuck him, you keep blurtin out how you’d “make him feel good” basically pouting like a puppy when the two of you are alone until he just gives a nod not thinking you’d fuck him any good, this man laying getting his back blown out was such a humbling experience to have such a nerdy guy on top of him holding his legs to his chest while you ramble on bout “gonna stuff you up s’much”

Just imagining you reading your erotic book getting in the middle of a smut scene sitting in his bedroom all hard practically jumping his pillows squirming when you read the book, until he walks back in that is “damn, didn’t know you were such a slut…” he’d lean against the doorframe mocking you until it happens, him ending up on top of you with you bent over in his bed while he makes you read page after page of smut, if you stop reading he stops thrusting leaving you on edge with a gruelingly slow pace.

Just imagining you laying on your back in a janitors closet after school hours while he eats your ass out messily drooling sucking on your s/c bud gripping the gloves of your asscheeks occasionally muttering out, “was that how they did it in your slutty little books” while his tongue delved deeper and deeper into your hole licking at your inner walls until they puff up with sensitivity just making you bite your bottom lip to keep quiet not wanting to be caught.

Just imagining you making it to a part of your book learning about a new act during sex, and ofcourse who’s better to try it on than your obsessed/very degrading man. You get a “huh??” Face out of him when you ask about fucking the gap between his muscular thighs but you don’t get denied?….here you were behind him groaning and heaving with your cock leaking precum all down his thighs, one hand on his hip the other on his cock while you lay your chin on the back of his shoulder “just a little longer please~” you’d beg him trying to cum while he just degrades the hell out of you not admitting his enjoyment.

[unknowncyklopz]

NerdSatoru! Is just so obsessed with eating your pussy

You could be in the damn near empty library and he'll just slip under the desk and paw at your cute and chubby thighs with that pleading face of his.

"Baby please? Need to taste you so bad" he'll murmur into your inner thigh.

So, of course, being the amazing girlfriend you are, you let NerdSatoru! eat your already soaking cunt in the library. Because, well, who are you to deny your needy boy?

NerdSatoru! Is a messy eater, too. Not only is your essence on his entire face, but it is also covering the entirety of your inner thighs. He's messily dragging his tongue across your clit and hole, but also sucking on your cute and puffy clit like a fucking lollipop.

NerdSatoru! even adds his fingers to the mix. He'll use two lanky fingers to push inside your tight hole while using the other hand's thumb to pull up the hood of your clit and lick like a madman.

Eventually, you'll start to feel your orgasm rounding the corner, so you'll beg and plead NerdSatoru! To let you cum. He knows your limits, and once he's for sure you're about to cum, he'll stop.

NerdSatoru! Will pull his fingers out from you while looking into your eyes and say with that damn smirk in his face

"I wanna finish at the dorms. I don't wanna get banned from the library for you screaming"

[lazyjellyfish300]

I DIDN'T KNOW THEY MOVED THANKSGIVING TO FEBRUARY

A/N: This little fic is dedicated to my friend @cmdrfupa, for her birthday today!! To the lovely Lu: I wish you the happiest of birthdays and a year filled with love, joy, and everything you ask for! Pairing: Nanami x Reader WC: 4.2k Summary: Nanami is acting awfully suspicious. You endeavor to get to the bottom of this.

For as long as you’ve known him, Nanami Kento never compromised on a good night’s rest. He maintains impeccable sleep hygiene practices; he rarely ever snacks past 8 pm, avoids using his phone right before bed and has a routine that sees him get up and go to bed at more or less the same time every day.

A deeply ingrained sense of vigilance makes him a rather light sleeper, something you’ve quickly noticed as you watched him wake up countless times at the lightest rustle on your part, but he does tend to fall back asleep effortlessly, usually snuggling closer to you or readjusting your covers before slipping back into slumber with ease.

So you think little of it at first when you wake up one night to find his side of the bed empty. A quick glance at the clock indicates it is only 3:07 AM and you figure he’s probably just in the restroom.

You comfortably snuggle back under your covers, relieved that there is still plenty of time before your alarm goes off. It’s good timing, you think to yourself, that you’ve woken and that you’re catching him out of bed and that you will be able to reclaim your favorite big spoon position.

Five minutes pass, then ten, then twelve, thirteen. The sheets on his side are ice cold, and now you wonder how long he’s been gone. Impatience morphs into slight concern and trumps somnolence, so you decide to get up and check on him, sliding into your slippers before crossing the distance to the ensuite bathroom door and giving it a light tap.

“Hey, you good in there?”

No response. You knock again.

Only now do you notice the notably missing sliver of light that usually peeks through the edge of the door, a telltale sign of Nanami’s absence.

How odd.

“Kento?” you call out, this time to the rest of the house.

In the hushed stillness of the night, the gentle click of a kitchen cupboard door closing served as a barely audible response. The distinctive sound of the fridge opening for a few seconds before shutting again resonated through the hallway as you tiredly stumble your way towards the kitchen, where you find Nanami leaning against the counter, in the dark with only the dim light from his phone screen illuminating his features.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” he says, his fatigued eyes straining to discern your form in the dark.

“I was looking for you…” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep, a confused scoff escaping your lips before you flip the question on him. “What are you doing up?”

“I developed a craving.”

“This late at night?”

Nanami sets his phone down, his response coming out as a barely audible low hum as if a testament to his own incredulity. Now better accustomed to the darkness, your eyes find the familiar jar Nanami holds in his hand, and you watch him pick what you now recognize to be a small jalapeño pepper and pop it into his mouth.

“And you were craving encurtido?” It’s an uncanny sight, one that has you questioning whether you are dreaming, but the increasingly clear sound of your voice grounds you in the reality of your wakefulness.

“I figured for the electrolytes...” he replies, deadpan.

“The electrol—Straight from the jar, Ken?” You retort, decidedly baffled.

“In my defense, my intention was to only have a few, so I didn’t bother…” he replies, trailing off.

“Okay… Do you not want to eat something more consistent? Was dinner really that lacking last night?” You say, finally feeling lucid enough to match his playful stride.

“Dinner was fantastic, you know this. No, I’m only having a few of these and then I’ll head back to sleep.”

Nanami’s phone auto locks, plunging the two of you into complete darkness. You pat at the wall beside you and flip the switch on, and head towards the cupboard to pour yourself a cup of water, now that you’re positively awake.

You lean your back against the counter, mirroring his stance as you join the spot across from him and from which you observe him out of the corner of your eye as you slowly sip from your cup. He appears to be absentmindedly picking at the pickled vegetables, visibly distracted.

Ever the observant man, Nanami notices and arches an inquisitive eyebrow at you as he catches your gaze.

“This will not bode well for your stomach, big guy. Please take an antacid after this, you’re not invincibly young anymore.”

“I’ll be fine. I just got a little hungry.”

“I don’t know, Kento, this is so unlike you. I can’t remember the last time you had yourself a midnight snack, let alone spicy food, of all things.”

You can barely contain the laughter now bubbling within you, realizing now that this newly formed memory of the near absurd state in which you’d caught him red-handed will be the source of your endless amusement, of his relentless torment over the next few days.

You add, now laughing in earnest. “Are you sure you don’t want me to quickly fix something for you?”

“Thank you, I appreciate it, but I assure you I’m sated now,” he closes the jar, leans over to your side to plant a kiss on your forehead, and continues, “I’m sorry I worried you. Let’s go back to bed.”

For the few minutes you find yourself in bed waiting for Nanami once more as he brushes his teeth and freshens up for the remainder of the night, you rack your brain to try to figure out what could have possibly prompted this uncharacteristic mid-night adventure. You’d watched him eat dinner, and he’d cleaned off a healthy portion of your homemade chili potato bread. Surely he couldn’t be that hungry, right?

He was visibly on his phone before you walked in and he looked quite a bit distracted, even a bit shifty. Perhaps there was something he wanted to surprise you with? Your birthday has just recently passed, and you are still months away from your anniversary.

You skirt around the least likely justifications until the most plausible one, the one that eventually presents itself like a road appearing through dissipating fog, makes itself evident; of the strong possibility that Nanami Kento is concealing something from you.

Your sentiment is one of overwhelming curiosity more than anything else, one that lingers still in the back of your mind by the time Nanami emerges from the bathroom and finds his spot lying down facing you.

You audibly clear your throat and he looks up at you, freezing mid-movement as he rearranges the covers and you sense him searching your eyes in the dark.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’ve got big spoon now. My turn, remember?”

“I question whether this switch is warranted, but it’s late, so I’ll let you have this one.”

“You’re not letting me have anything, Kento, you know the terms. If anything, we were both out of bed just now, so it absolutely counts, doubly so.”

A chuckle of surrender escapes him as he flips over, his warm body pressing into yours as you slide your arms under him and place your hand over your hands.

The weight of your concerns begins to lift, leaving behind mostly the blissful oblivion of sleep and for the rest of the night, all is well.

A couple of days later, you’re enjoying a rainy Saturday afternoon indoors, the soft glow of your lamplight casting a warm, inviting ambiance against the otherwise gray backdrop outside.

You’ve completed your to-do list early, and the feeling of accomplishment has since settled over you, along with the promise of a relaxing afternoon, one that you and Nanami get to spend together; one hand holds your book while the other gently tangles in his soft hair as he lay quietly on your lap, equipped with a book of his own.

You’re about an hour in when he shuts his book and rests his eyes, staying still for a minute before breaking the silence.

“We should watch that show.” He says with his eyes still closed.

Still engrossed in your novel, it takes you a few seconds to pull your gaze towards him and to register his words. He speaks again before you get the chance to respond.

“Tossed salads and scrambled eggs…” He says impassively, and you blink at him a few times before he opens his eyes, looks directly into yours, and adds “Oh my.”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter at Nanami’s deadpan rendition of one of your favorite show’s theme songs.

“You want to watch Fraiser?” You ask in between giggles, “Now?”

“It can be later. Or now. Only if you’re up for it.” He says, his voice finding its usual tone again, which only makes you laugh once more.

“Oh, I’m up for it. I’m just surprised, it’s usually that baking competition show you watch on the weekends.

“I figured I’d mix things up a bit.” His eyes peer up at you once more between strands of tousled hair falling across his forehead.

“Alright Mr. Adventurous, let’s get to it, then.”

He sits up and reaches for the remote as you shuffle around, finally settling into a comfortable position on the worn couch in front of the TV screen.

Just after the third episode starts, Nanami stretches slightly and gets up.

“I’m going to make coffee. Would you like one?”

“Actually, would you mind brewing me some of that oolong grape tea?”

“Sure thing,” he says, a hint of surprise in the subtle arch of his brow.

“I’m mixing things up,” you say, playfully mimicking his tone from earlier, a slight smirk playing on your lips.

You reach for the remote to pause the episode.

“No need to pause it. I’ll just set the water to brew and be back.”

You turned your attention back to your episode, while you heard Nanami busy himself in the kitchen.

This series… You can recite most of these scenes word for word and yet each rewatch still captivates you as if it’s your first time watching it. By the time you’re near the end of your episode, the rich, warm aroma of velvety robusta coffee has decidedly wafted over to find you where you sat, filling your senses in a comforting blanket of scent.

The low whirring sound of the electric kettle has long since ceased, and you no longer hear Nanami’s rummaging on the other side of the wall. Just as you have half a mind to call out to him, you stifle a yawn, a feeling of drowsiness beginning to read its unwelcome head. You’d planned to take a nap later on, but now you’re determined to see this watch session through. A concluding thought comes to your mind; a cup of coffee actually sounds perfect right now.

Needing to stretch your legs anyway, you decide to get up and get it yourself.

“Hey Ken—”

You peer around the corner to find the kitchen empty.

On the counter, you find your tea bag still only halfway assembled, loose leaf almost spilling out of the unsealed bag, sitting next to the coffee machine, where his cooling cup sits.

Where the hell did he disappear to? you wonder.

Your question is answered a mere seconds later, as Nanami emerges from the hallway, looking somewhat more disheveled than he’d left, his sleeves are pulled up rather than carefully rolled back, and his hair is downright messy, as if he’d just wrestled with something. He speaks before you get the chance to say anything.

“I went looking for the oolong. I thought I’d brought it to my office the other day.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and without thinking, you open a drawer just beside you, where you distinctly remember seeing the oolong tea box this morning only to find it now notably missing, an empty space that screams its obvious absence.

Your eyes return to Nanami, who is now holding up the familiar packaging.

“Turns out I was right,” he says with a slight smile. “Sorry for the delay in service,” he adds playfully.

You know this man well, so you sense it, in the nervous quickness in his step, in the barely perceptible aversion of his gaze, that this is not the full story.

You know this man too damn well, so you witness the realization hits him; he freezes in his movements for the briefest of moments, but you catch it. Your eyes settle on Nanami’s hands as they hover over the overflowing, half-assembled tea bag, loose oolong leaves spilling onto the table in a noisy refutation of his unconvincing tale. Your eyes travel to his face and you watch as a minute twitch of his lips, as a small sharp inhale and exhale through the nose, betray some kind of amusement he appears to be trying to suppress.

This scene juxtaposed with the Fraiser ending theme now blaring in the background can only be humorous to you, and can only add to the perplexity of the situation.

“So—” you start.

“Did you prepare them differently?” Nanami cuts in, casual as ever, as he fastens the tea bag and gently places it in your cup, and reaches for the kettle, setting it on once more, his movements now carrying a relaxed fluidity.

“What?” You ask, only now realizing that this is your first word in what you feel like has already been a long exchange.

“The cookies you baked yesterday,” He repeats, speaking a bit louder to be heard over the increased whirring sound of the kettle, as the already boiled water quickly comes to ebullition. “Did you add a secret ingredient or something? They are particularly amazing.” He reaches for one in the box you’d stored them and takes a bite as if to emphasize his point.

“Nutmeg…” You say cautiously, eyes narrowing on him as you watch him casually pour the boiling water into your cup.

“I see. So you added nutmeg?”

“No, the nutmeg was always there. I just dosed it differently this time around and I—Actually, you know what? No. I’m keeping this one to myself. Secret recipe.”

“That’s a shame,” he says his tone laced with mock disappointment as he hands you your cup, with his left hand twisting it around to ensure you can grasp it at its handle, and offers you the second half of his cookie in his right hand, letting it hover over your lips, a mischievous smile on his face, “and here I thought we were all about sharing here.”

You narrow your eyes at him once again and yet also take the entire remainder of the cookie into your mouth, a move that visibly surprises him. You chew as you try to formulate a retort that you don’t bother delivering, as he picks up his coffee cup and guides you back to the living room to resume your watch session.

Both of you pretending that you didn’t detect his obvious play at a deflection.

Both of you ignoring the obvious untruth you’d caught him in.

It only comes to your mind much that evening, long after you rolled credits on the seventh Fraiser episode, long after an enjoyable dinner, and long after you’ve tucked into bed, wrapping up the captivating book that had you staying up into the early hours of the morning as Kento slept soundly beside you; a theory that you are now incredibly eager to test in the morning.

“I can’t believe they want you in the office on a day like this,” Nanami mutters as he looks out the window at the large snowflakes beginning their descent through the gray morning sky. “Surely it’s not advisable ahead of a damn snowstorm?”

“Yup, I can’t believe it either. I only have early meetings, though, so I should be able to wrap up before the worst of it comes down early this evening.”

The rest of the weekend flew by; two days have elapsed, and it is now Monday. Even as you sit on the ottoman in the vestibule, focused on fastening your second boot, you can sense Nanami’s concerned gaze shifting to you.

“And you’re sure you can’t work from home?”

“I told you, this is orientation week. They want all of us newbies on site.”

“You should call out.”

“It’s really not that bad yet and I’ll be back before you know it.” You reply, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his apprehension as he approaches you, towering over where you’re still seated.

“Then, at the very least, let me drop you off.”

“I appreciate your concern, Ken, I really do. But I’ll be fine, this isn’t my first rodeo. Besides, don’t you have that important call later? I need you to lock in and stop worrying about me.”

“If there’s anything off, anything at all—” You stand up and reach out to him.

“I will call you. Promise.” You press a kiss to his lips, and you indulge in his lingering hold for a short moment before you pull away and head out to your car. It’s in moments like these that the depth of his care for you is the most palpable; you can discern so much better these days, level-headed as he is, the worry betrayed by his voice, the concern visible in his eyes.

Kento is so good to you. He is so good, period.

Except when he’s not.

Nanami waits a couple of minutes. It’s not until after the distinct sound of your car’s ignition, followed by the garage door’s mechanical whir and thud are made audible that he finally gets to moving.

Finally. How long has it been? A week? Six? Seven days of poking and prodding, of observing and watching? An arduous week peppered with moments of weakness spent wondering if the prize was worth the trouble he was going through, worth the opponent he has to make of you; moments that have no longevity whatsoever, as he’s quickly reminded of the phantom taste he is now convinced he will be unable to shake off.

And you are good. You are too damn good at this extreme variant of mental chess, it’s almost unfair. He’s always known you to be a brilliant woman, it’s part of what he adores so much about you, but this is another level. Where is the line between extreme cleverness and unrelenting cunning?

You are too good.

But not infallible.

Because now that he is reasonably sure that you’re gone, he makes his way back to the room that doubles as your home office and brings the door to a half close, turning to face the shelf that sits behind it.

He crouches down, emulating the position he’d found you in less than twenty-four hours ago, to the bottom row, labeled ‘Taxes’. He pulls out the 2021 filing box, and he knows to pull this one because you’ve led him to it, yesterday, when he finally caught you in a scene he’s since gleefully replayed over and over again in his mind.

Nanami opened the door to your home office, inadvertently lightly bumping you in the process.

“Ouch!”

“Darling? Shit, I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

He peered around the door, just in time to see you replace a filing box and to rise from your kneeling position. Grabbing your arm where the door had bumped you.

“I’m fine. It’s my fault, I should have shown some sign of life when I heard you approaching,” you say sheepishly.

Nanami moved your hand and rubbed your bare arm where you held it. As he cast his gaze down to your arm to examine it, something on the floor immediately caught his attention.

A small torn piece of paper, the familiar red markings on a yellow wrapper, stood out like a sore thumb against the deep brown hardwood floor, one he would now recognize anywhere. He must have let his gaze linger too long because he noticed you following, your eyes widening ever so slightly as you locked onto the damning piece of evidence.

He watched as you suddenly pulled your arm away from him and averted his gaze.

“I was just looking for an old banking document I need to bring it to HR tomorrow.”

Nanami watched, oh he watched as you discreetly kicked the wrapper under the shelf as you moved around him

“And did you find it?” He asked after you, turning only his head towards you.

“Find what?”

“The document you just mentioned?”

“Oh, no I haven’t. But I have the digital version somewhere, I’ll just have to find my old login, but don’t worry, I’ll figure it out!” You said before skittering out of the room.

There it was again, the taste of smooth coffee-flavored cream with a milk chocolate coating. It’s been days since his first bit, but Nanami remembered it still, the gentle crunch of a wafer preceded by the slightly bitter coffee essence, followed by a creamy chocolate richness that balances out the coffee notes. So light, so airy, so sweet, but not too sweet. The perfect balance.

The last he’d seen it was when you yanked the bag away from him, as he went for his fourth piece in a row. Or was it the fifth?

“Alright enough, Kento, these are limited, so we clearly need to ration them.”

“You don’t trust my discipline?” He’d said in mock offense.

“Your firm grip on this box tells me everything I need to know. Give it.” Stifling a shocked laugh as you yanked it from him in earnest.

“Oh, I see. So you’d selfishly hide your little stash from me?”

“Sir, this was a gift addressed to me! You know damn well they don’t carry these rare candies anywhere in this country, and I am intent on not speed running these in a day, so you best back off and behave if you want me to share this!” You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore. You’d never seen Nanami so obsessed over anything, let alone some sweets.

“Unfortunately for you, your first mistake was to let me taste this one.” He says as he neatly folds the wrapper he’s still holding. “You won’t succeed in hiding them for long, I fear.”

“Watch me.”

And oh, did he watch you. Throughout the week, observing as you snuck two pieces for each one you would bring out to share with him, seemingly out of nowhere. Nanami knew this was silly, that he was being irrationally ridiculous over a few sweets.

He couldn’t place what it was, whether it was your assertiveness and confidence in keeping this away from him, the underlying challenge this posed him, or whether it was that this chocolate simply tasted too damn good. Whatever it was, it was driving him insane, and all he knew was that he had to locate your secret stash.

Not even the passing thought that he was behaving like Gojo on a sugar rush had sufficed to deter Nanami from his singular mission, a passing thought that made him scoff in disbelief.

None of it mattered anymore. He had a lead.

But now, unburdened by your observant eye, untethered by the running risk of you walking in on him as you’d already done over the course of the week, nearly exposing his efforts, he feels the taste of victory.

He reaches under the shelf and laughs to himself as he retrieves the damning manifestation of the one mistake you’ve made.

He opens the filing box.

It’s empty, barring a piece of folded paper.

It’s a note he quickly unfolds, immediately recognizing your handwriting, his eyes dancing over the single line of the message, the one that spells out:

“I have bested you, Nanami Kento.”

Nanami flinches at the sound of your voice, he almost topples over when you step into the room, holding your boots in your hands and tiptoeing in your socks.

He chuckles lightly as he stands up.

“If you’re telling me you set this up…”

“Off some snacks, Ken?” You said, releasing the burst of laughter you’ve been holding for a hot minute now.

“Pretended to leave…”

“All this off some freaking candy?” You’re laughing hysterically now.

“It wasn’t the candy, love, it was that one chocolate… Coffee Crunch something...” He’s chuckling now too, eyes closed as he shakes his head as if he’s trying to place the taste.

“Coffee Crisp. Don’t I know it! Made you lose your damn mind.”

“The deception of this is…”

“Well-warranted, I’m now convinced! ”

Nanami sighs, visibly defeated.

“I don’t know what they put in that bar—Wait, aren’t you going to be late now?”

“Oh, I’m not driving in that mess. I was going to put in a work-from-home request last night, but found that they’d already told us not to come in any way. Besides, who will distribute this if I’m gone?” You add as you pull one of the coveted coffee and chocolate bars out of your coat pocket and wave it into his face.

You watch his eyes widen, his pupils dilate as he makes a grab for it, but you pull back just in time to have him watch it slip through his fingers.

“You have to share.” He says almost too solemnly.

“I really don’t. But maybe… you can earn it? Work for it.” You say teasingly as you hold the bar behind you while making your way towards Nanami, not stopping until he hits the edge of your desk.

“Another challenge?” He asks, his voice now a low timbre. “Careful, love. This one I’m intent on winning.”

[issues4him]

❥ PERVY NERD!RAFE x CHEERLEADER!READER

❥ nerd!rafe who….wears glasses that slide down his nose when he’s staring too hard at you across the quad. you’re laughing with your friends, licking a cherry lollipop, and he’s not blinking. pencil in his hand, clenched, jaw tight. his notes have turned into your name written twenty-seven times in the margins.

❥ nerd!rafe who…knows your class schedule, locker number, favorite lip gloss flavor, and the scent of your shampoo. (peach and vanilla—he nearly passed out the first time you brushed past him.)

❥ nerd!rafe who…sits in the back of class so he can stare at the curve of your waist when you stretch, watches how your skirt rises when you lean over your desk, and oh my god if you ever dropped a pen? he watches some other guy pick it up for you and immediately writes his name down with a death threat-level underline. like. “jason. must die.”

❥ nerd!rafe who…has a private folder on his computer with photos from your instagram. screenshots, zoomed in, cropped, edited, labeled by date. he jerks off to your selfies only to do it again the next day like the freak he is.

❥ nerd!rafe who…accidentally walked behind the bleachers during practice one day and saw you stretching with your leg up on the rail and almost passed out. he stood there, frozen, pants tightening, and didn’t even try to hide it. he moaned. out loud. then ran.

❥ nerd!rafe who…100% has a fantasy journal. he writes little stories about you calling him “rafey” and crawling into his lap in the library. one page literally just says, “she makes fun of me while riding me in her uniform. i cry and then she kisses my tears.”

❥ nerd!rafe who…hasn’t made a move on you because he’s convinced you’re too perfect for someone like him. but fuck he dreams about it. all the time. like you cornering him after school, giggling as you sit in his lap, pulling at his shirt, saying, “you’re always staring at me, rafey… i should give you something to really stare at.”

[binah-beloved]

Binyah 👍 you agree

i agree. Binyah excellent

[kittysylus]

⋆˚࿔ Lover boy 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men as your high school boyfriends

୨ৎ── . Zayne

“You’re wrong.”

Zanye sighed, already rubbing his temples. “I’m not wrong.”

“Yes, you are,” you insisted, crossing your arms and staring up at him with that stubborn gleam in your eyes—the one that meant you were ready to argue about the dumbest thing just to get a rise out of him. “Pancakes and waffles are not the same thing.”

Zayne exhaled sharply. “I never said they were the same. I said they’re basically similar because they’re both made of batter.”

“Yeah, and that’s wrong. They have different textures, different purposes, different souls, Zayne.”

Zayne rolled his eyes. “Souls? Are you seriously telling me a pancake has a soul?”

“Yes! Pancakes are soft and fluffy, comforting. Waffles are crunchy, mischievous. Chaotic.”

Zayne stared at you. “Chaotic?”

“Absolutely,” you said, completely serious. “You never know how much syrup a waffle is gonna trap. One bite could be perfect. The next? Syrup explosion. You never have that problem with pancakes.”

Zayne opened his mouth, then closed it, exhaling again. “Love, it’s breakfast food.”

“It’s philosophy,” you shot back.

Zayne sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I literally don’t care.”

You smirked. “Because you know I’m right.”

Zayne groaned. “Oh my God—”

“You just hate that I’m always right—”

He kissed you.

Mid-sentence, mid-argument, Zayne just leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, successfully shutting you up.

For a moment, you forgot what you two were even talking about. His lips were warm, slow but firm, the kind of kiss that stole all your thoughts and left you completely dazed.

When he pulled away, he smirked. “There. Finally quiet.”

You blinked, processing what just happened. Then—

“…Okay, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrong—”

Zayne groaned loudly, dropping his head against your shoulder while you laughed at his suffering.

“Why am I even dating you?” he mumbled against your sweater.

You grinned, running your fingers through his hair. “Because I’m adorable and you love me.”

Zayne just sighed, knowing there was no winning against you.

And, honestly? He didn’t mind losing.

୨ৎ── . Xavier

You sat cross-legged on the library floor, flipping through your notes while absentmindedly reapplying your chapstick. You swiped the balm over your lips, pressing them together to make sure it spread evenly. The soft scent of strawberries filled the air, mixing with the faint smell of old books.

When you glanced up, you caught Xavier staring at you, his head propped up on one hand, his book long forgotten. His light eyes were locked onto your lips, and you could practically see the thoughts running through his head.

You smirked. “You want some?”

Xavier blinked, snapped out of his trance. “…Huh?”

“Chapstick.” You held up the small tube and wiggled it between your fingers. “You keep licking your lips like you want some.”

Xavier scoffed, straightening up. “I was not—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, cupped his face, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Xavier froze. His brain? Completely short-circuited.

You pulled back with a smug smile, pleased with his dazed expression. “There. Now you have some.”

Xavier just blinked at you, lips slightly parted, as if trying to process what just happened.

You giggled and casually reapplied more chapstick, watching his face for a reaction. His eyes flickered from your lips to the lip balm and back to your lips again, like he was having an internal battle.

“…That’s cheating,” he finally muttered.

You grinned. “Oh? You wanted more?”

Xavier huffed, but his ears were red.

Feeling mischievous, you reached into your bag and pulled out a handful of different chapsticks. “Alright, since you’re so interested in my lip balm, let’s play a game.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow. “What kind of game?”

“Guess the flavor.” You held up a random tube. “I’ll put it on, you kiss me, and you try to guess what flavor it is.”

Xavier exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s just an excuse for you to kiss me.”

You feigned innocence. “What? Noooo. This is serious scientific research.”

Xavier rolled his eyes but leaned in, resting his chin on his hand. “Alright, hit me with your best shot.”

You quickly applied a new flavor and puckered your lips. “Okay, guess.”

Xavier leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss before pulling back just enough to murmur, “Mmm… vanilla?”

You gasped. “Ding ding ding! Correct!”

Xavier smirked. “Told you, I’m a pro.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see how good you really are.”

The game continued, with you applying a new flavor each time and Xavier taking his time thoroughly testing each one. It was all fun and games until Xavier, now looking way too smug, whispered, “You’re just doing this so I keep kissing you, aren’t you?”

You, whose plan had completely backfired because now you were the one getting flustered, huffed and tossed a chapstick at him.

“Shut up and guess the next one.”

୨ৎ── . Caleb

You barely had time to react before it happened.

One second, you were walking down the school hallway, minding your own business. The next, you were tackled.

Well, not tackled exactly—but a solid weight suddenly latched onto you, nearly knocking you off balance. Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and a familiar menace buried his face in your shoulder.

“Caleb!” you yelped, struggling slightly. “What the hell—get off!”

“No,” came his muffled reply.

You groaned, prying at his arms. “Why are you clinging to me like a damn koala?”

“Because I missed you,” he whined dramatically.

“…You saw me two hours ago.” you blinked.

“Two agonizingly long hours.”

You snorted, trying to push him off again, but Caleb only tightened his grip. A few passing students threw amused glances their way, but you had long since given up on trying to salvage your dignity around your boyfriend.

“You’re so needy today,” you muttered, exasperated.

“Wrong.” Caleb lifted his head slightly, smirking against your skin. “I’m always needy.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Alright, pretty boy, let me go. I have class.”

“No.”

“Caleb—”

“Give me a kiss first.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You literally ambushed me in the hallway, and you still want a kiss?”

“Uh-huh.” He gave you his best puppy-dog eyes. “C’mon, baby, please?”

You sighed dramatically before grabbing his face and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

The moment you pulled back, Caleb hummed, looking smug. “Another.”

“Oh my god.” You shoved him away. “Go bother someone else.”

“Impossible,” Caleb called after you as you walked off. “No one else is as cute as you.”

You didn’t turn around, but you definitely heard the girls nearby squeal at his words.

And judging by the stupidly proud grin you knew was on his face, that was exactly what he wanted.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

You barely had time to grab breakfast that morning, let alone do your hair. So now, as you plopped down next to Rafayel in the schoolyard, you dumped all your hair essentials on his lap with zero warning.

Rafayel raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to be helping with this?"

"Obviously," you said, already gathering your hair into sections. "You have steady hands, you can at least hold a braid while I work on the rest."

Rafayel sighed but didn't argue. He held the braid you made as you worked on another, watching your nimble fingers move effortlessly. You were quick, practiced, and somehow managed to make it look effortless even without a mirror.

At some point, you passed him a brush. "Here. Try braiding this side."

Rafayel blinked. "Me?"

You smirked. "Scared?"

He scoffed, rolling up his sleeves. "Obviously not."

He was confident… until he actually started trying. Braiding was way harder than it looked. His fingers fumbled as he tried to copy your movements, but the strands kept slipping apart. You, watching out of the corner of her eye, started giggling.

"Stop laughing," Rafayel muttered, narrowing his eyes at his mess of a braid.

"I'm not laughing," you said, clearly laughing.

Rafayel gave up with a sigh. "Okay, fine. You're a hair-braiding genius. I'll stick to holding things."

You grinned in victory before reaching into your bag for a mirror. But instead of holding it yourself, you handed it to Rafayel. "Here. Be useful."

Rafayel rolled his eyes but held up the mirror as you added the final touches—clipping in colorful little pins and adjusting the braids into a cute, messy bun.

Then you looked at your reflection, tilting your head. "Not bad for a rushed job, right?"

Rafayel didn't answer.

Because he was gone. Utterly and completely gone.

You were adorable. No—beyond adorable. The little pops of color in your hair, the loose strands framing your face, the look of satisfaction in your eyes—he could die right now and be fine.

You finally glanced at him through the mirror. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Rafayel barely processed the question. "You're—” he stopped, exhaled, then said it with his whole chest—"the cutest thing in the entire world."

You blinked, then rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No, I’m serious.” He put down the mirror and grabbed your face between his hands. “I think my heart just exploded.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You tried to pry his hands off, but he just squeezed your cheeks.

“I will never stop,” Rafayel declared. “Not when you look this cute.”

You groaned, smacking his arm. “Just say you want a kiss and go.”

Rafayel grinned. “I do want a kiss.”

You huffed, but the way your lips twitched upward gave you away. Finally, you leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his lips before pulling back with a smirk.

“There. Now shut up.”

Rafayel leaned in again, resting his forehead against hers. "Never.”

୨ৎ── . Sylus

Sylus had weaknesses.

Plenty, actually.

He liked to act all tough, like nothing fazed him, but when it came to you? That was a different story. You had too much power over him, and the worst part? You knew it and you used it against him.

Like right now.

You were sitting outside in the schoolyard with him, scrolling through your phone while absentmindedly playing with his fingers. Sylus was definitely not paying attention to his own phone—because how could he, when yous was right there, looking so effortlessly pretty under the afternoon sun?

Then, sighing dramatically, you tilted your head toward him.

“Lover boy,” you hummed, voice laced with teasing affection, “can you buy me a drink?”

Oh, hell.

Sylus was gone.

You could’ve just asked normally. You could’ve commanded him, like you usually did, and he still would’ve gotten up without question. But no—you had to weaponize those two words.

Lover boy.

His brain short-circuited.

He felt it the second his heart stumbled in his chest, the heat creeping up his neck. Sylus fought to keep his cool, but you knew. He could see it in your smug little smile, the way you squeezed his hand just slightly, testing his reaction.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he muttered.

You blinked, all innocent. “Doing what?”

Sylus squinted at you, leaning in closer. “You know what.”

You giggled, and damn it, you were just so cute, it hurt.

“So… does that mean you’ll get me a drink?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head.

Sylus groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “You could ask me to buy the entire vending machine, and I’d probably do it.”

“Good to know.” you grinned.

He sighed in defeat, standing up. “What do you want?”

“Surprise me, lover boy.”

Sylus literally stumbled at that, and you just cackled.

God help him. He was so pathetically in love.

[peachesofteal]

Sweet little librarian who works the closing shift and is always kind to Simon.

Simon who’s realized the world has pretty much left him behind, and all he can do post retirement is sit in his flat and watch mind numbing television or work out to the point of exhaustion in the gym. He doesn’t have social media, doesn’t even have more than ten apps on his phone (thanks Soap). The only computer he’s touched in the last decade is the desktop on base that he used to complete reports and other administrative things, or the banged up laptop they used to bring on missions.

So, he starts going to the library. He sets up at a table and reads books until his eyes bleed, pouring over decades of history because he pretty much refuses to live in the present.

That’s where he meets you. Or sees you, he guesses, since he doesn’t really talk much. You’re always asking him if he needs help or needs you to find him anything. You smell like vanilla icing, ripe strawberries and his mouth waters every time you appear at his side.

Sometimes you even sit down across from him with your lunch, scooping granola and yogurt out of a glass bowl, licking it clean by the time you get to the bottom.

“Hi.” You chirp, smiling. It stretches your face a bit, plumps your cheeks and adds a sparkle to your eyes. He grunts, but it doesn’t deter you. “What is it today?” You lean over, glancing at his spread of books and laminated papers. “Axis powers?” He stares at you. Watches your mouth and tongue work the spoon. He doesn’t answer, and you sigh. “You know, we never talk but you never tell me to go away so…” You trail off like you’re hopeful he’ll say something reassuring. He doesn’t, but you take it on the chin, and smile anyway. “Alright well, see you later then.”

He doesn’t know what’d he tell you, what he would say, how he would explain he’s bad and dirty and would drag you down to the pits of hell. Doesn’t tell you he can’t talk to you because then he’d have to keep you, and he’s not sure how to do that without snuffing the flame out, the one that he sees in your smile, the bounce in the balls if your feet. Doesn’t want to tell you he’d have to lock you away and he knows you’d be miserable.

He doesn’t say anything.

The following Monday, he catches sight of you in the children’s library. You’re sitting on the floor with a toddler, turning the big, bright pages, pointing and gesturing to the little boy’s delight. You look so… happy. So content.

Tectonic plates in his brain shift, and a new reality is born.

How can he keep you and keep you happy?

Easy. He’ll just fuck a baby into you.

He’s rough with it. Bends you over one of the desks tucked in the back after closing, shoves your dress up over your ass and kicks your legs apart. You struggle and cry, trying to bite, to scratch, screaming when he fits the head of his cock against your hole.

“Fuck shortcake,” he groans as he works his way inside, forcing you to take him inch by inch as tears stream down your face. “You’ve got such a good little cunt f’me huh?”

“N-n-no,” you wheeze, short of breath, and he kisses your cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he slides all the way home, shivers snaking up your spine when you clench, trying to take more, greedy for it even though you’re trying to fight. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Stop- please,” you rock your hips, but it buries his cock deeper. He grips your neck, pulls back and then slams into you, covering your scream with his palm. He licks your tears and you look at him in the mirror, desperation and horror welling in your eyes.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he grits, control hanging by a thread, hanging back for one second to make sure he holds your gaze before shoving himself against your womb, “you and the baby.”

[swytdoll]

glasses. thinking about loser! choso who begsssss you to ride his face while he wears his glasses. nsfw bc im a freak, face ridin’, bj, public sex, sub!choso. drabble. minors do not interact!

loser!choso whom everyone labeled as weird. he often exhibited awkwardness, frequently stumbling over his words and never truly finding his place among his peers. the students on the rather small campus often speculated about how he had managed to win your affection, ultimately attributing it to financial means. they found it difficult to believe that someone like choso kamo could be with someone like you without some form of concealed advantage.

choso’s awkwardness was often the subject of whispers and jokes, but you saw past all of that. you saw the kindness in his heart, the way he would go out of his way to help others, even if it meant making a fool of himself. you appreciated his genuine nature, his ability to make you laugh, and the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

choso was also great in bed. shockingly so. at first you could barely believe how great it was, how great he was. you didn't know how to explain it, but you couldn't get enough of it.

“oh cho,” soft moans continuously bubble from your raw throat, hands shakily pulling against dark roots as you glide swollen lips across his face. clammy fingers grip into your plush thighs, pulling you harder against his mouth as he sucks on your clit, his nose digging into your slick folds, tongue hungrily lapping. “feels so good,” your head hangs low as you bite your lips, a poor attempt to stifle your whines in the back of the library.

he loves the way the rims press into the sides of his face and dig into the bridge of his nose with each roll of your thick hips. his face soaked, your wetness covering his chin. his glasses foggy, yet his eyes never leave yours. he watches you come undone above him, his cock achingly hard. his mouth watering as he licks his lips clean of you.

still quivering, you slide off of him, kneeling on the floor. effortlessly your fingers pull him through the zipper of his jeans. he gasps when you grab his base, and begin stroking him. his breaths are ragged, back arching, hand fisting his backpack beside him as he bucks his hips into your warm palm. “m’not gonna last i-i-fuckkkk.” you’ve barely touched the man and he’s already falling apart. sweat beading down his forehead despite the temperature in the old building being a cool seventy.

he pulsates, pre cum oozing out of his slit and dribbling down his pretty shaft, coating your fingers. “it’s okay baby boy.” you hum softly pressing a kiss to the tip, swiping your tongue along the head, tasting him. a long drawn out whine has him clamping his hands over his mouth, hips stuttering.

“oh my god, oh my god.” he’s an incoherent mess as you slowly take him in your mouth, inch by inch, until you can feel him hitting the back of your throat. choso is huge, the thickest you had ever had and it was always a struggle to take him fully.

he grunts as you start bobbing your head up and down, his head thrown back and his toes curling in his vans. you hollow your cheeks, sucking him, stroking his base, using your spit as lube to slick him up. he’s close, you can tell by the way his hips are thrusting lazily into your mouth. his thighs tense and his balls tightening. you continued your ministrations, your free hand cupping and rolling his heavy sack, squeezing him.

“love you s’much!” his hands pull gently on your hair, tugging you off him as his release spurts all over his chest. you pant, your glossy eyes wide and your pupils blown, hand steadily pumping him through his orgasm. “that’s it sweet boy, let it out.”

he’s seeing white as his head tilts forward. he watches with a gulp as you run your finger along his cum covered chest, scooping some of his release and pushing it past your lips, licking it off your fingers. he can’t help the blush that paints his cheek and you chuckle, tucking him back into his pants with a forehead kiss.

loser!choso, who really loves his girlfriend and also really needs a new shirt.

𝑅𝒮𝐸𝒫𝐸𝒯𝒜𝐿𝒮 all rights reserved. comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated ♡︎