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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 6 months ago

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Chapter 3: Please Remember to Take Your Happy Pills

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

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Despite your insistences for Ben to just go away, he walked with you to “Please Don’t Die,” the plant shop that you’d been working at since you moved to New York, all the while complaining about the fact that you didn’t have a car.

You wondered if he'd ever had friends that didn't have as much money as he did or if he just lived in the asshole rich dude bubble.

You never hated walking. Something about walking through Central Park invigorated you, being surrounded by all the plants made you feel grounded and more in the moment. It made you feel alive. Not to mention you liked walking past all the flower shops and perking up the bouquets of flowers wrapped in plastic and placed in black bins as you walked. And even though you were late, you figured that you always had time to use your powers just to make everything a little bit greener.

Maybe it was cliché, but you hated seeing dead plants and dead flowers. Whenever you went home you always spent time in your grandmother's garden making sure that everything was growing as it should and even the plants in your home never seemed to wilt.

Which probably meant that you were working in the right place.

The shop you work at is the same as it’s always been. Outside the brick was painted a cheerful white, with black trim that frames the large glass windows and a black glass door the proclaims the name of the shop in strong block letters. Each window display was changed every other day and were both currently crowded with multicolored plants that stretched towards the warm sunlight on the street while the glass skull planters your boss, Jake, had placed artfully inside glittered black.

When you open the door, the smell of soil, earth, and water greet you, wafting out to envelop your body in a layer of comfort.

You feel your body physically relax as you step over the threshold. The thrum of your abilities reaching out, flowing through the branches, stems, and leaves of the plants, soaking through your bones to connect you to them. You could feel every twig, every small push of roots in the soil, every unfurling of new leaves from each plant in the shop. It was impossible to see beyond the rows and displays of potted plants that trailed languidly on the clean concrete floors. Wooden shelves were bolted to the walls covered in layers of green foliage so dense you couldn’t see the red brick behind. Displays of bouquets sprouted dark purple, deep red, vivid blue, and warm orange, sat wrapped in plastic and ready to be purchased on the left wall, next to coolers filled with even larger bouquets in ornate glass vases.

Herbs crowded the front of the register at the back of the room, sending the sharp scent of mint, the spicy scent of chives, and the soothing smell of rosemary into the air. Vines wove above your head hanging from the ceiling to cover the plastic squares that lined the roof making it seem as if you had entered under the dark canopy in the jungle. The rest of the shop was hidden behind rows and rows of potted plants, on long wooden shelves and tall potted plants that reached up to the ceiling, giving the illusion that as soon as you entered the shop, it was like you entered another world, cut off from the rest of New York.

It honestly felt like home, felt just like your apartment as you stood there in the humid air, the sound of the misters turning on and off echoing the deeper you went into the store.

Plants were easier than people. You learned that early on.

It didn’t matter where you were, plants always called out to you, from the smallest seedling to the mightiest oak, you were connected with them. When you were away from them it was almost painful. As a kid whenever your parents took you on a plane, you had to carry seed packets in your pockets, nursing small seedlings as you left the earth behind and took to the sky. When Annie had a weekend off from her patrol back home, she had suggested that the two of you go on a cruise. Neither of you had seen the ocean and it had seemed like a good idea up until you stepped foot on the ship.

At first you thought that you were seasick, the dizziness and the puking that followed seemed to be due to the boat rocking back and forth, but the only way you were able to get out of bed and avoid puking your guts out was when Annie brought you some grapes from the buffet and you covered your entire cabin in grape vines to make you feel better. And the rest of the trip you had woven vines in your hair to stay just a little more grounded to the world you left behind when you stepped foot on the ship.

“Y/n is that you?” You hear your boss, Jake, call from somewhere inside.

“Yeah I’m sorry I’m late!” You shout back. He was still hidden by the dense displays of plants that stood like silent watchmen just at the front of the shop.

“It’s fine.” He replies.

You turn to glare at Ben. “You can go now.”

He’s not paying attention to you, he’s surveying the room, surprised by how green it is.

He’s going to have to get used to that if he’s going to force himself into my life.

Jake pushes through the wall of plants in front of you, holding a giant Monstera in a gallon bucket. The leaves were easily as big as your head and you’re surprised that Jake can move it, given that he wasn't a supe. He stumbles slightly under the weight and you rush forward to take it from him.

But just as you take it from Jake, your own super strength buckling slightly under the weight, Ben pulls it from your arms and holds it in one hand. You were only slightly stronger than the average person, enough to hold your own, but not enough to lift a car over your head.

“Where do you want it?” He says looking from you to Jake.

Jake is… Jake. He’s taller than you, with sandy blonde hair that curls slightly behind his ears and hangs long and shaggy on top of his head. His bright blue eyes are hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses. Today he’s wearing his usual flannel pushed up to his elbows that reveals tanned, freckled, and muscular arms, not as muscular as Ben, but enough to notice, and a pair of blue jeans.

They were his favorite pair, worn in just right at the knees. You gathered that by how often he wore them. Not to mention you appreciated how he filled them out.

In the way that Ben was tall, dark, and handsome, Jake was tall, bright, and beautiful. He always smiled when he saw you, always tried his hardest to make you laugh on a day that never seemed to end, and he always seemed to have the best advice when everything seemed hopeless. He was a good friend. A good friend that you had kept separate from the supe world. He didn’t know what you could do and you wanted to keep it that way at least for now.

Your record with non-supe friends was dismal and you didn't want to ruin your friendship with him.

“Whoa um-" Jake clears his throat. "Just over by the calatheas.” Jake's eyes widen seeing how easily Ben holds the gallon sized barrel in one hand, hefting the monstera easily.

“The what?” Ben frowns rudely.

“The striped plants over there.” You point at the collection of lemon lime prayer plants that sit prettily on a circular wooden table in one of the front displays.

Ben walks away still toting the monstera like it weighs nothing in his right hand.

“Do you know him?” Jake watches Ben curiously.

“Unfortunately.” You frown, but shake it off when you look at Jake. It was easy to smile at him. “How are you?”

“Good. Got here early. The shipment of Christmas cactus came in. Needed to start breaking down one of the displays to find a place to put them.” Jake returns your smile. “You doin' okay? You look a little frazzled.” His southern twang slips into his honeyed voice.

Jake like you, wasn’t from the city, he was from the south and moved to New York to go to get a degree in environmental law, but when he got certified he opened “Please Don’t Die” and the rest was history.

You glance over at Ben who is now walking back towards the two of you, still frowning. “I didn’t have my coffee today.” It was the truth, but you didn't want to say that the reason why you looked so 'frazzled' was that you were spending time with the bane of your existence.

“I figured. Which is why I grabbed you one. It’s on the register.” Jake nods back in the direction of the antique bar top turned desk where a cup of coffee sits slightly steaming in the humid air.

“You’re officially the best part about today.”

“That’s what I say about you every day.” He winks making you flush. “Oh wait you’ve got an eyelash.”

Ben stiffens beside you as Jake steps forward into your space and gently brushes his index finger under your right cheek. Pins and needles trace behind the movement and you can feel your heartbeat stutter. “There you go.” Jake wipes his hand on his flannel.

Ben huffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

Jake looks up at him, because Ben was about three inches taller. “Hey I’m Jake.” He extends his hand towards Ben.

Ben eyes it. “Ben.” He grunts not taking Jake's hand and deepening his frown.

Jake's smile falters a little.

“Please ignore Gramps, he forgot to take his happy pills this morning.” You nudge Ben with your elbow. "Be nice." You whisper low enough for only Ben to hear.

“I think he took them for me sweetheart.” Ben mutters back. "It's nice to meet you." Ben says tightly, in a way that doesn't seem like it's nice to meet Jake at all.

“Gramps?” Jake looks confused as he retracts his hand.

“Nickname for sunshine.” You gesture with your thumb to where Ben glowers at the mention of the nickname. “But he was just leaving.”

“Oh. Well if you need me I’m going to be over by the hydrangeas. Do you think you can start working on the plants in the back? They need a little TLC.” Jake rubs the back of his neck. "I know you're better at that kind of thing."

“Of course. It’s what I’m here for.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you darlin'.” Jake laughs and walks off towards the blue and pink flowering plants in sleek silver pots towards the door.

Ben eyes your boss up and down, watching how he turns away from the two of you but stays within earshot. “He wants to fuck you.” Ben says a little too loudly.

“What?” You whisper yell, dragging Ben away into the dense foliage on the other side of the shop. “Shut up he can hear you! And we’re just friends.”

“You’ve never heard about friends fucking? I mean if you and I started to-"

“Not going to happen. And we’re not friends!” You frown at him.

“I mean, I am living with you.” Ben crosses his hands over his chest and shrugs.

“You’re not living with me. How many times do I have to say that?”

“As many times as you want. I love the sound of your voice. I bet you could say some pretty kinky-“

Your eyes shift to a dangerous bright green, the entire room vibrating with energy as the plants begin to bend to your will.

“I know you think that using your powers is supposed to scare me, but I think it’s sexy when you do that.” Ben smirks. “Your eyes turn that gorgeous shade of green.”

“Please go away.”

“Fine. But he does want to fuck you.” Ben smirks. He cocks his head to the side examining you for a moment. "You want him to, don’t you Petals?”

"No I don't!”

I mean I could do a lot worse than Jake.

He was exactly what you were looking for. Someone sweet, who understood what love was, and actually cared for other people. He was smart and funny, and he loved plants almost as much as you did. He understood how important they were and how to take care of them. Not to mention he actually had feelings and knew how to express them, unlike the toddler standing in front of you.

You grab on to Ben’s arm and drag him further into the shop away from your boss to make sure that you’re no longer within earshot. “Contrary to whatever belief you have, not everyone is focused on sex all the time-“

“They are.”

“No they’re not. There are other things-“

“Like what?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Um.”

You honestly couldn’t think when Ben was standing so close to you, towering over you, staring at you with those bright green eyes that always seemed to consume you. Your eyes slide to a cork board filled with seed packets on the wall above his head.

“Like watermelon and blueberries and-“ You begin to say, reading the names.

“You’re just listing fruit sweetheart.” Ben chuckles under his breath. “You know what I think?”

“No and I don’t care.”

“I think you think about having sex with me.”

“What?” You shout louder than you should

“Mhmm." Ben traces his hand along your cheek, but you swat it away. "This morning you were awfully red when you bumped into me in the hallway. Not to mention in the kitchen when you were against the counter. Your heart was beating so fast. And I could practically smell how w-“

“Finish that sentence and lose your tongue.” You snarl grabbing the front of his shirt tightly in your hand.

“Doll I don’t think you want to rip my tongue out. Not with what I could do to you with it.”

You groan and withdraw your hand, fighting the urge to punch him. “Can you please leave? Don’t you have anyone else to sexually harass? Like Hughie maybe?”

“Hughie’s a guy?” Ben looks confused at your mention of Annie’s boyfriend.

“So? I kinda think you’re overcompensating for something by sleeping with that many women.”

Ben only laughs. "If you slept with me I'm sure that you'd see what all the fuss is about." He looks over through the walls of green leaves to where Jake is standing, watering a display of hydrangeas. Every few moments Jake would look over in your direction over his shoulder as if to check if you were okay. “How long have you worked here?”

"What does that have to do with anything?" You cross your arms over your chest confused.

Why does he care about that?

"Just answer the question doll-face."

"Two years."

"And you've liked him this whole time?" He cocks his eyebrow.

"No."

"You're worse than Mike doll."

"I am not."

"Mhmm."

"And I don't want him to sleep with me."

"Sure."

"Again, not everyone is focused on sex. And maybe you think that's the most important thing, but I'd rather have a relationship with someone." You turn to busy yourself with straightening the seed packets on the cork board, wishing that you weren't about to have this conversation with Soldier Boy of all people.

"So no sex?" Ben taunts.

You bite the inside of your cheek, transferring a packet of potato seeds back to the correct peg and reach for a packet of watermelon seeds to avoid eye contact.

I can't believe that I'm about to say this.

"I think that sex is better when you have a deep emotional connection with someone. Someone who cares about you, who sees every part of you, even the bad things and they don't care. I wouldn't expect you to give a fuck about any of that."

"I don't." He breezes and you can imagine just how carefree he looks. You could feel his breath on your neck reminding you of your position earlier today.

"Exactly." You roll your eyes. But deep down you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed with his confession and you hated that you were disappointed.

What? Did you think that he was going to change? That he was going to suddenly be the kind of guy you wanted after he practically forced his way onto your couch?

“You’re serious about him though? Looks like the kind of guy who would cry when he fucks you. You really want him instead of me?” Ben leans into the space next to you, trying to catch your eye, which you successfully avoid. "I mean, come on Petals, he's not even a supe."

"What?"

"He's-not-a-supe." Ben says it again, slowly like you're an idiot.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh please, you think that guy is the one? The one you've been waiting for? I've seen you in a fight and there's no way he could handle you. He couldn't even carry that fucking plant! If he tried to fuck you, you'd snap him in half."

Your cheeks flare an angry red that creeps back into your neck, and up your ears. "That is none of your business."

"It would be if you'd just let me fuck you. Show you what you've been missing." He cocks an eyebrow.

You fight the urge to slap the look off his face. “I can’t do this with you right now. I haven’t had my coffee.”

"He brought you some." Ben sing-songs, but you ignore him. "Fine. I’ve got to go anyway. Butcher wants me to meet him at some park in fucking Jersey.”

“You need me to write it down for you? Using your newfangled doohickey probably might be too much huh?” You turn and shake your phone for emphasis at him.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I think I’m capable of finding it.” He turns to go but stops glancing over his shoulder at you. “Are you gonna be at the apartment tonight?”

“What apartment? My apartment? The apartment that you're squatting in like a hobo?"

“No Butcher’s.” Ben glowers.

“I mean maybe?” You shrug. “I’ve still got to make a list of auto shops to visit this week. Butcher wants me to try to go to at least a dozen to see if I can get any leads on this guy.”

Ben nods once.

“Why?”

Why does he care?

“No reason. I’ll see you later Petals.” Ben smirks when he uses the nickname again, before turns once more and vanishes into the foliage that leads to the front of the shop. It was very difficult not to make the closet branch smack him in the back of the head as he did so. You hated that nickname about as much as he hated Gramps, but you knew that asking him not to call you that wouldn't do any good.

You make your way to the register at the back of the shop, feeling like you could finally breathe again. You hated how Ben wound you up so much, how angry and annoyed he made you. You hadn't met anyone else in your life that could do that to you and you liked to think that you were an easy going person, but not around him. He always knew exactly how to push all your buttons.

The memory of him pinning you to the counter earlier surfaces from the events of the morning, how his body seemed so strong above you, how he seemed to curve it protectively around you as he stood there waiting for you to tell him that it was okay for him to take the next step. The kiss from last night follows, how wonderful it was to lose yourself in him, how he tasted just a little bit like whiskey-

The hibiscus plant to the right of the register poofs into bloom, the bright red flowers unfurling and shining like beacons.

Shit. No. Get it together. Ben literally just said that he didn't think that emotions were important.

You glare at the plant until the flowers wilt back into submission, hoping that Jake couldn't see from where he was watering the hydrangeas.

That's the last conversation that you wanted to have today with your boss.

The coffee he got you is just how you like it and you’re reminded again that you deserve a relationship like that. Someone who remembers the little things, someone who cared about you, someone who was willing to hold your hair back when you threw up, not someone who annoyed you without end and the only emotions he ever expressed was anger or arousal.

“Your friend leave?” Jake asks. His clothes were flecked with water, hands just a little dirty, hair tousled just the right way to make him look like he'd just woken up.

It hit you again how different he was than Ben. Where Ben was ruggedly handsome, Jake was boyishly handsome and he had a younger less angry quality that made him seem lighter. You supposed that was because Ben had spent the last forty years in a Russian lab, but sometimes you liked that about him, not that he had been tortured obviously, but that he seemed real. He didn’t sugar coat things, he told it to you straight. Sometimes Jake was too happy.

No no no. I am not going to compare Ben to Jake, that's not going to happen.

“He’s not really my friend. He’s more of an annoyance.” You smile tightly, flicking your thumb against the cardboard coffee collar on the outside of the cup.

“Oh. I kinda thought he was your boyfriend.”

You spit out the coffee in your mouth. “What?”

“Well the way he was looking at you. And the way you guys were talking." Jake clears his throat embarrassed. "Sorry I didn't mean to assume that."

"It's alright. I'm sorry that he was rude to you. He's rude to everyone honestly."

It was the truth, Ben was always rude to everyone, though you didn't understand why he was rude to Jake. All Jake had done was try to shake his hand.

"How did you meet him?"

"Butcher."

Jake didn't know much about what you did for Butcher, only that you had another job on the side and he was your boss. Butcher had picked you up once from work to go on a case and Jake had caught a glimpse of him and had been confused as to why you knew someone like him.

"Ah." David nods in understanding. "He looks like Butcher's kind of guy."

"Yeah." You take another sip of coffee, shifting from foot to foot. "Thanks again for the coffee. I kinda needed it to deal with him."

"He was bothering you?"

"Only a little." You wave your free hand as if brushing away the thought.

"You should have said something, I could have thrown him out of the shop." Jake grins wide, leaning against the register.

The image of Jake trying to drag Ben out of the store was ridiculous. You doubted that Ben would go willingly, he hated backing down and you suspected that he would rather die than let another man throw him around. And the last thing you wanted to do was have to pull Ben off of Jake.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle. He's more bark than bite." You walk around the back of the desk to look at a box of lavender plants. They were in relatively good shape, a few brown spots, but nothing you couldn't fix when David wasn't looking.

"Sure." He is still leaning on the counter watching your fingertips stroke along the purple flowers. "Hey y/n?"

"Mhmm?" You sigh, inhaling the soothing smell.

"Um-" He bites the inside of his cheek. "Never mind. I'm gonna go start the Christmas Cactus display."

"Okay. I'll be in the back if you need me." You shrug, picking up the coffee Jake bought you and walking through the dark curtains that covered the doorway that lead into the back of the shop.

Your thoughts shift to how Ben acted around Jake, how he seemed to be an even bigger jerk, how Ben seemed to hate the idea of you and Jake together, and how Ben kept watching Jake like he wasn't sure about him.

Was he… jealous?

You gently touch the browning leaf of an African violet, feeling the fuzzy outer covering beneath your fingertip.

As if.

And as you stood there gazing at the plants that needed a little extra care, something else began to stir, something that you couldn't put your finger on, something that you felt when you were only around Ben, but you shake it off and clear your mind with the earthy smell of soil and the soft green leaves that needed your care.

“I can’t believe you let Soldier Boy sleep on your couch!” Annie exclaims before taking a bite of her sesame seed bagel.

The coffee shop was crowded for a Thursday afternoon, and although most came to Calamity Coffee Co for the Rocky Top frozen choco-molten mocha swirl , Annie had settled for a oat milk latte and watched you eat your Rocky Top with a spoon. It was making you feel better after the night you'd had.

People sat with their laptops along the long table that lined the front windows writing emails or the next Hunger Games, others lounged on the purple velvet sofa and high backed green armchairs by the decorative fire place chatting about a new movie in theaters that you'd seen a commercial for, and a man and a woman sat at the glass topped wrought iron table looking at their phones and not speaking.

I love what romance has come to these days.

“It was a moment of weakness.” You spoon another bite of the chocolatey frozen treat into your mouth still trying to forget exactly what happened last night when Ben kissed you in the hallway.

As if you were going to tell her that.

The rest of your shift at the shop had been uneventful. You fixed up most of the plants in the back and helped Jake make the new displays of cactus in the front while making small talk. He was going to a plant show this weekend and had invited you along, but you had declined, told him you had to work.

You did. Butcher had this crazy idea about sending you to different auto shops around the area where the supe had been jacking cars, to see if anyone knew anything about him.

It was getting harder to track him down, it would be easier if y'all could put a name to the face, but no one had seen him. Not even when he tried to fry you two days ago. He always wore a hoodie and pulled a dark scarf over the bottom of his face.

“So you did sleep with him!” Annie accuses.

“No I didn’t. He just slept on the couch and I slept with my door locked.” You reply, touching the vase of wildflowers in the center of the table to perk up the colorful blooms.

Annie's smile drops. “You thought he would try something?” It was something that she didn't joke about and she had reason not to.

When you found out what the Deep had done to her, she had to hold you back from marching up to Vought tower and implanting a watermelon in the Deep's stomach until he exploded. Something that you'd thought about trying with Ben when he really annoyed you.

“No not really.” You press your lips together. “Ben doesn’t really seem the type-“

“Oh so it’s Ben now.” She flutters her eyelashes and you kick her shin under the table.

“Shut up. It’s his name-“

“You never called him that before! You always just call him Gramps or the Bane of your existence.”

“He is the bane of my existence." You roll your eyes at her, leaning back in your chair.

He really is.

“Well the bane of your existence is kind of hot. You know for an older guy.” Annie shrugs.

“I can’t believe you’re saying that. You literally were gung ho for locking him away for all eternity or whatever.”

“I mean yeah he’s done some shitty things.” She takes a sip of her almond milk latte. “But it would have been a waste.”

She’s not lying.

You don't answer her, instead your mind shifts to how good Ben looked in a towel this morning, slightly damp from his shower. And then inevitably begins to dip back into the waterfall fantasy.

When Annie had told you that Soldier Boy was back, you had done the research, watched his movies, commercials, and music videos, read his file, and gazed at older pictures of him. Yes he was handsome, but something about the Ben who existed in the 21st century was better looking than all the rest. You didn't know why, just that you were crazy not to admit how good looking he was.

Maybe I've got issues and I'm attracted to the wrong type of man.

“Come on so you locked your door.” Annie nudges your leg under the table.

“Yep.” You avoid her eyes, because you knew as soon as you did you might let it fly that you wanted to sleep with him or rather that he'd kissed you so hard that you'd seen stars and it had only lasted eleven seconds.

Why do I know how long the kiss lasted?

“Why are you making that face?”

“This is my face Annie.”

“No no no. You’re making your suffer in silence face!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“What? Did you lock your door so you wouldn’t go out there?” She jokes with a snort.

You take another sip of your coffee.

“HOLY SHIT Y/N!” Annie's smile is almost too wide, as if she's discovered a new kind of chocolate that you can eat and never gain any weight.

I'd invest in that.

“What?”

“You wanted to sleep with him!”

She shouts it so loud that the people staring at their phones glance over to the two of you. Even a few of the writers on the long table under the window look back over their shoulders at you.

“Keep your voice down." You shush her. "Just because my body wants to doesn’t mean my mind does!”

It does. Who am I kidding?

“Uh-huh sure.”

You slump further in your chair, avoiding the gaze of the couples at the other tables looking at you. “Annie come on. You’ve known me since we were four. You almost blinded me when I took away your my little pony doll-“

She purses her lips. “I recall you making a tree rain acorns down on my head.”

“It was my doll.”

“It was mine! And I said that I wanted it back. You didn't have to have a tree do a reenactment of the ten plagues garden edition."

You hold up your hands in surrender not wanting to get into this fight again. “Whatever the case. You know me. You know that I always think stuff like this through-“

“Maybe you’re just thinking too much.” She sing songs.

“I can’t believe you’re for this. I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Why not? You obviously want to.” Annie shrugs. "I mean I guess I'm not his number one fan, but maybe it will help get you out of a slump."

"What slump?"

"You haven't really been with a guy since Newton-" Annie begins to say, referencing your ex-boyfriend that you locked in a tree in high school. Because he deserved it.

"Because I never meet anyone that I'd want to sleep with. And yeah maybe I want to sleep with Ben, but he really just pushes my buttons and makes me crazy and-" You stop for a second considering your next words. “I don’t want that kind of relationship with someone. I want a relationship that means something. And I don’t think that sleeping with him is going to do that for me. He doesn’t want more than one night and I’m worth more and I want more.”

"You are worth more sweetie." Annie's hand covers yours where it rests on the table. "You just need to find someone who understands that."

"The only other single man in my life is Butcher and trust me I'm not going down that road." You bite the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. "I mean he is pretty hot in a rugged sort of way-"

"No." Annie squeezes your hand. "If God put me in your life to prevent you from dating William Fucking Butcher then so be it."

"Fine." You roll your eyes at her.

"And what are you talking about? What about Jake? He's cute and he likes you."

"He does not. We're just friends. And I don't know if I want to drag him into all this supe shit. It's not exactly easy."

Being with Jake will just complicate everything. He's my boss and he's not a supe. What if I accidentally killed him during sex? I don't think that I'd ever be able to get over that.

"Yeah. But maybe he'd be okay with it-"

"Like Newton was okay with it?" You raise an eyebrow, saying the name of your high school boyfriend for the first time since you'd locked him in a tree.

"He was an asshole. Not all non-supes are assholes."

"Just because you struck gold with Hughie does not mean that all non-supes are like that."

"You just have to broaden your horizons a little bit. Maybe you could try online dating."

"What like Tinder?"

"Fuck no." Annie groans. She raises the sesame seed bagel with a perfectly manicured hand to her mouth, reminding you that you probably should get your nails done. You hadn't done them since high school, because sometimes you thought it was a waste of money given how much time you spent with your hands thrust into potting soil.

"Because Ben seems to really like it. Has no problems working that app, I'll tell you that." You roll your eyes thinking about him again.

It was one of the first apps that he had downloaded on his phone by himself and one that he did not have any trouble navigating, given the parade of women that came through Butcher's apartment and the amount of nights Ben spent going on "dates." For a guy born so long ago, you noticed that he really didn't have any old fashioned values.

"You sure are focused on him."

"I am not." You glance down at your phone noting the time. "And are you going to spend our date mocking me about Ben the whole time?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re going to fuck him or not.”

“I’m not so let’s move on.” You sigh loudly, moving your hand as if ushering in the next topic.

“Well if things don’t work out with Mr. Blast From The Past, then you can always date Mike.” She sniggers.

“Oh I don’t think he’s going to be a problem-“ It slips before you meant it to.

Shit.

“What do you mean?” Annie perks up when you say that.

“Nothing.”

She punches you hard on the shoulder.

“Ow. Annie-“

“Tell me!” She punches you again.

“What are you the mob? You’re gonna keep punching me til I tell you?”

“Exactly.” Her small fist hits your shoulder one more time.

“Fine!” You avoid her next swing. “Mike came out of his apartment last night when Ben and I got in and Ben he-“ You bite the inside of your cheek to try and phrase it in a way that isn’t going to make Annie freak out.

Yeah there’s really no easy way to say this.

“He pretended to be my boyfriend.”

“He what?” Annie squeals.

“And he kissed me.” You mutter into your drink.

“He kissed you!?”

“Say it a little louder, I don’t think they heard you in Canada.”

She punches your shoulder.

“Ow, Annie! I told you what happened!” You rub your hand over your sore shoulder, which given Annie's enhanced strength was sure to have a bruise.

“That was for not mentioning it earlier! Because What the fuck?! You KISSED!?” You could practically see Annie mentally kicking her feet and giggling.

“Yes.”

“Was it good?!”

You pause. Fuck yeah it was.

You were trying to forget that. Forget how he held you, like you weren’t close enough, forget how he deepened the kiss as if he wanted to swallow you whole, forget how everything else in the world seemed to fade into shades of gray and kissing him was the only thing in color.

Damn it. This isn't going to end well.

A/N: Honestly thank you for all the love and support on this series. I know it's kinda slow going at the beginning, but I promise I have a plan for this one! :)

As always thank you so much for reading! If you'd liked to be added to the Taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

#soldier boy x you #jensen ackles #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fic #jackles #take a chance on me

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grunckle · 1 year ago

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Qualia and Ascension in Rain World

(To clarify I'm mostly talking about base-game lore and not including Downpour, but honestly most of these things can transfer over)

Qualia

One thing that’s relatively hidden in Rain World’s text and subtext is the concept of qualia. Qualia is described as being, “sensory experiences that have distinctive subjective qualities but lack any meaning or external reference to the objects or events that cause them.” It’s a personal sensory experience that cannot be comprehended by another person other than the individual themself, and are often hard to convey via language.

Qualia is a reoccurring motif in Rain World, but what’s more important is the way in which it’s conveyed to the player. The picture that’s painted is that of a world or civilization that placed a great importance on the individuals’ experience, and it’s shown through pearls or environmental details.

Here are some examples of qualia appearing in the text through pearls.

“It's qualia, or a moment - a very short one. Someone is holding a black stone, and twisting it slightly as they drag their finger across the rough surface. The entire sequence is shorter than a heartbeat, but the resolution is extraordinary.”

“A memory... but not really visual, or even concrete, in its character. It reminds of the feeling of a warm wind, but not the physical feeling but the... inner feeling. I don't think it has much utility unless you are doing some very fringe Regeneraist research.”

“This one... is authored by Five Pebbles, when he was young. There has been an attempt to scramble the data, but it's sloppily done, and most is still somewhat legible. It's written in internal language, or thoughts, so it is hard for me to translate so you would understand.”

But the most prominent examples of qualia and it’s importance in this world are the Memory Crypts and possibly ancient naming conventions. The deep purple pearl (shortened) found in Shaded Citadel states,

“In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids (…) Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane. The assorted memories and qualia include:”

Ancients likely mutated their own neural tissue into the cabinet beasts we see in Shaded, which were used to store their memories and qualia before ascension. Even james said once "how 5 pebs got the rot is a good hint here" in response to someone asking how cabinet beasts work, and how they're made.

Adding on to this, ancient (and iterator) naming conventions seem to be built off of the concept of qualia, with them focusing on individual images or experiences.

Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections

Droplets upon Five Large Droplets

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

Looks to the Moon

Generally, this all points to a world focused on the expression and preservation of the individual experience. You could even consider some of the echo dialogue as more evidence for this running motif, but I already have too many quotes lol.

Ascension

So now time to talk about my interpretation of ascension. In short, you turn into a worm, but I should probably explain more than that.

So its been surfacing on rw-tumblr that the light in the end of the game is called the egg in files. Although file names shouldn't be taken as fact or canon, it is pretty obvious given the birth imagery.

But something a little lesser known is what happens to the worm that takes us down to the void-sea depths. Void worms normally have a bright glowing effect, on their body, which is present for ours as well. But after it unhooks us, it swims down, and when it passes us on it's way back that glowing effect is gone.

To be honest, I don't really think this can be interpreted in many ways, but the most obvious one and the one I personally subscribe to is that the worm laid the egg. Biology and spirituality really aren't that different in Rain World, it's implied that karma is stored in the brain through Five Pebbles's slideshow. Adding on to that, we see voidspawn after eating an iterator neuron. One's spiritual state is innately tied to their mental state, and that dictates what and what they can't perceive.

And for that reason I decide to take a more biology leaning approach to what happens in the ending. At face value, we are fertilizing the egg of a void worm to be reborn into a voidspawn.

Not only do void spawn and void worms have multiple characteristics in common, (worm like bodies, tendrils/tentacles, glowing heads, void spawn look microbial and void worms are likely some of the oldest "life" in game)

but voidspawn are seen inside egg-like coverings and share the same egg light seen in the end of the game, confirmed to be the same thing by Videocult in a livestream they did.

I believe that all this points to ascension being re-birth into a voidspawn, which eventually undergoes metamorphose into a worm. Higher-dimensional beings, who manifest and give birth to a new world.

So how does this tie in with qualia? Another thing you might know is that the area in which void spawn are most plentiful is Shaded Citadel and areas in Shoreline near Shaded. And shaded is absolutely packed with Cabinet Beasts, even outside Memory Crypts. I believe these qualia-storing creatures are what manifest voidspawn.

From what we see in ascension, it still looks physical and largely based around the real world. Hunter still has his scars and see's an iterator, survivor sees the slug tree in a more mystical and formless state, and monk sees survivor frankly just looking like a normal slugcat. I think that ascension is a product of qualia. We transcend our earthly knowledge via the egg, and our own qualia is used to give birth to a new world. This is why voidspawn appear most in Shaded Citadel.

Now I won't be getting into Void-Worm theories too much here, I'm mostly focused on ascension but I can't ignore the Gnosticism parallels. For those who don't know, Void Worms heavily resemble the Yaldaboath from Gnosticism, along with sharing some similar celestial motifs.

and running with that some people theorize that, like the Yaldabaoth, void worms are responsible for manifesting the material world. Ascension seems to be a mix of the concepts of Gnosis and Nirvana, but I believe it might lean more on Gnosis.

From my limited knowledge, Gnosis is a few things, some of which being a state achieved from experiences or intuitions, and an essential part to salvation is personal knowledge. While researching a bit, I came across this text by Peter Wilberg called "From NEW AGE to NEW GNOSIS" which brings up some comparisons between Gnosticism and qualia as well.

"Gnosis is subjective knowledge of an inner universe made up not of matter, energy, space or time but of countless qualitative spheres or ‘planes’ of awareness – a knowledge obtained directly through inter- subjective resonance. It is the subjective science of this inner universe."

One thing though that has been brought up when discussing this is how this can be consolidated with the tone of the ending. It is pretty un-ambiguously happy, but if we're going with the Void worm Yaldaboath theory then that would put a bit of a sour twist on it right?

I agreed with these for some time, but now I actually think it ties in perfectly with Rain World's core themes as stated by the devs, "overcoming differences and finding empathy." I don't think the void worms are "evil" or malevolent, but I think they (and subsequently us after ascending) play a key role in demonstrating this theme.

By manifesting the physical world, we allow these souls to experience life and develop their own qualia so one day they can ascend themselves. We are shown compassion, and pass it forward.

#rain world #rain world lore #lore #rain world spoilers #gnosticism #gnosis

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alkelkha · 2 months ago

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𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter two

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

❛❛ CRASHLANDIN' ON YA' ❜❜

a shooting star was your first impression of it.

the past week had been terrible; there were no bonfires on the beach this time because everyone was at the town center celebrating for whatever reason. you stumbled onto the beach sand and stayed on the ground coughing hysterically.

sand stuck to your wet body and hair. you were so tired you could barely keep your head up. what was this, the third time you’ve been waterboarded? but hey, who’s keeping count? this is the price that comes with being a good person. curiosity killed the cat, and it was going to get you killed one day.

you’ve accepted it— death, and if you were going to die, it might as well be for something cool like trying to take down the gang that has your home in a chokehold. what’s so wrong with wanting to go out a hero?

then that’s when you saw it. a bright white star rushing away in the sky.

the perfect time to make a wish! you folded your hands together and closed your eyes.

star… make my life worth more than this.

you opened your eyes and the star was…coming towards you?

your eyes widened, and you booked it off the sandy territory, losing balance every now and then. dunking and hiding behind the concrete wall that separated the beach from everything else, you covered your ears. the debris covered the portion of the beach, some even thrown over your head.

you kept your eyes closed for a long time before noticing the orange hue of the flames. getting up from your hiding spot and walking towards the destruction. there wasn’t much fire so those would be easy to put out. the fire wasn’t your concern though, it was what you would find. was someone there? are they alive?

coughing and waving your hand in front of your face to wave out the smoke, you finally found someone. they were crawling away from the rubble. you run over to them, but just as you get there their body has already gone limp. it was a female your age, the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen, with a purple streak.

you knelt down and scooped her up in your arms, the stranger in your arms was light— and you had the strength of the average woman.

overtime the locals got her settled down, and she became flosnum’s talk of the town. apparently, there were three other people in the blimp that crashed but didn’t survive. not that the blue-haired mystery woman would know since she spent the majority of her time being nursed back to health and secluding herself from the rest of the world in her new complementary flosnum home. flosnum has had a huge population surge which meant a lot more houses and some left vacant.

as creepy as it sounds, you couldn’t stop thinking about thinking about her. washing dishes? thinking of her. bartending? thinking of her blue hair. staying at that boring shop filled with gunk? thinking about what kind of person she is.

it’s safe to say she lived in your mind rent-free. you couldn’t help it; she just seemed so cool! coming from the times you’ve been able to catch a glimpse of her. she dressed so strangely, too. you wanted to ask her so many things. where was she from? is her hair naturally blue? is her favorite color blue? what does she like?

just what kind of person was she?

the first time you were able to formally meet her was two days ago.

TINKETTES: SCRAPS & PARTS

leon, the old man who owned this place, had died. rest in peace. he left behind a museum of metal scrapes, tools, wires, and a whole bunch of other stuff that you didn’t understand. the only reason you were tending to it was because leon was the bar owner’s brother and he said he would give you a raise if you did this one favor for him.

in the back area for employees only, you threw a ball at the wall and caught it. you did that a couple hundred times before you heard the windchimes sung. someone was here? nobody ever visited.

trying to get out of the chair too fast, you ended up falling on your side. you opened the door to find her, of all people.

you swear you’re not a creep, but just from her backview, she was gorgeous. you wondered what she looked like with long hair.

"need help with anything?”

it was a normal day at the ‘SEVEN CHIMES’ (aka the pub). mindlessly placing drinks down in front of customers, you barely registered your coworker’s call for you. “[name]!” you turn around and run over to the counter.

“yeah?”

“big don wants to see you after your shift.” stella states as she mixes a drink. a warning. a sharp chill went down your spine, maintaining a smile, you nod.

shit. what was it now? had you not already paid enough money for the month? or was it the incident with the pervert customer?

you spent the rest of your shift with a gaping pit in your stomach. serving drinks, rowdy customers, talks about the mysterious blue-haired girl.

walking into big don’s office felt like walking into a dark room: ensure of what you would be greeted with. “stella said you needed me?” the sickly pale man, but not thin, leaned back in his chair with a dice between his fingers. his other hand tapped the desk, staring directly at you. “did i not give you a task?”

straighten your posture and answer “you… you did! you told me to hurry up and—“

“—get rid of the shop.” he finishes your sentence. “yes. yes, i did say that, yet i have not seen any progress.”

“i…” your throat felt dry. terribly dry. fidgeting with your hands you finally gain the courage to speak. “i did! i mean i am close to doing so— a girl wanted the shop.”

he nods slowly, rubbing his chin. “…good…good…” big don leans closer to his desk. “you still have to pay for your recent accident, you are aware of that, correct?”

“yes sir,” you respond nodding frantically.

letting out a small mocking huff his eyes finally turn away from him. “you’re lucky, you did something good. i’m not as angry as i was before.” he waves his hand to shoo her away. “i will deal with you some other time.”

wasting no time you got out of the office.

you were going to kill him one day.

you didn't dwell on it too much. that wasn’t your thing— as a matter of fact, that was the only thing keeping her alive. it happens, and then it passes over, no need to dwell on it [name]. patting your head (which stella points out to be a nervous tick), you waited for the blue-haired beauty.

she was cute and all, but she seriously needed to hurry up and appear so she could give her the keys to this place. if she didn’t, you would die (half joking). thinking about it… did you say that you would come to her or for her to come to you? you honestly couldn’t remember.

letting out a groan, you put your hands on your face. if you keep looking at the same weirdly bent metal scrap, you are going to lose your shit.

great, now you had to get up.

was walking around flosnum begging people for the tiny pieces of information they had on bluey beauty odd? yes, next question.

if you had to walk another ten minutes in the scorching hot sun, you would melt. being on the verge of heat stroke, you place your hand over your forehead to block the sun and lose your balance a bit, walking backward. you felt your back hit someone.

“oopsie daisy!” the person said in surprise.

turning around to apologize, your eye widens, “bluey!”

she looked less… sad and more alive the last time you saw her. there was neon splatted all over her clothes, and a sparkle in her pink eyes twinkled. she then narrowed at the sight of you, “you…” she was holding a box inside her left arm and was licking an ice cream.

you grab onto her shoulders, “i was looking everywhere for you!” you felt like you could finally breathe without having to worry about dying the next day.

“you were?” she tilts her head, confused about why someone would look for her.

you wrap an arm around her shoulder, she tries to move away from you. normally, you would care about being impolite, but you were on the verge of fainting. “surprise surprise, you got the shop!” you jingle the keys in front of her face. “please, move in as soon as possible.” you said smiling, she finally slips away from your grasp causing you to stumble a bit.

her full frame was now in your view. she was slim, toned core and arms, had an awesome tattoo, and was really pale— too pale for a place like this; some woman would die to have that body.

“gonna give me those keys, or was your real plan just to check me out?” she continues to lick her ice cream. shaking your head, you toss the keys to her. she catches the keys “thanks for the candy, stranger. it really helped a girl out.” she says with her back turned walking away from you.

wait wait. no, that’s not how it’s supposed to go. yeah, you were supposed to give her the keys, but you were hoping for a conversation longer than 30 seconds. okay maybe you were hoping way more than that… maybe being friends or something like that.

jogging up to her pace, you walk alongside her. “so!” you try to keep the conversation going. she furrowed her brows at you, either confused or annoyed by your attempt. “i was thinking since you’re new and everything that maybe you’d need a friend.”

at first, she slowed down and she just stared. not at you. it was like she was lost in her mind. “a friend, huh?” her voice lowered, “sorry, toots, i don’t do friends.”

jinx didn’t do friends.

she didn’t need for them. the closest thing she had to a friend was sevika, and she wasn’t even a friend she was more like… an annoying aunt.

they didn’t last.

besides… who would want to deal with her? vi didn’t, silco only made her condition worse, she always felt like a chore to sevika, and ekko… boy genius was too good for her. jinx wasn't who he wanted.

powder cleaned up the shop (by cleaning up, she put all the junk in the employee room). it felt nice to clean up; it was like her body was moving on auto-pilot just like it had been doing for the past two days. everything felt like an out-of-body experience after the numbness she felt the first month she had got here.

she grabbed a teddy bear out of the box and tied it up to the ceiling. for some reason, she kept the nagging thing around; powder kept sweeping up the place, “tidying” it up to her liking.

why do you keep pushing everyone away?

“shut up.” powder didn’t have the patience for it.

why do you keep pushing everyone away?

her grip tightened around the broomstick. “was me tying a noose around your neck not enough?”

why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away?

because you’re a jinx.

jinx reached to her hip to grab her gun to shoot the annoying bear. of course, there was no gun to pull out from a holster. there was no reason to have one in a place like this. old habits die hard.

because everyone who gets close to you dies.

jinx.

dropping the broom, she turned on her heel and faced the teddy bear, “i’m not a jinx!” her shout seemed to snap her back to reality. it was quiet. so quiet that she was able to hear her own heavy breathing. “not… not anymore…” her eyes were fixed on the bear.

“i left all of that behind.” her raspy voice cracked, arguing with it. “it’s safe here, no danger!” she took strides to the annoyance, “no reason for someone around me to die this time!” she ripped the bear off of the noose, its head coming off.

so why do you keep pushing everyone away?

even with its head rolled on the floor it still tried to get its point across.

if she was right. if she believed everything she just said, why did she keep pushing people away? there’s no reason to be scared of losing someone; there’s no danger here.

jinx dropped the bear and turned around to get back to cleaning up. she crouched down to pick up the broom but her red-violet eyes caught something. a sticky note.

ONLY COSTS FIVE!

with a turtle drawn as a signature. she dropped her broom and dashed out of the shop.

powder wasn’t sure what the plan was, maybe there was no plan to begin with. she wanted to talk to you— to change her answer. she did want to be friends. she needed to get it off her chest because what if she waits too long and you don’t want to be friends anymore? what if you forget you even asked her? what if you didn't mean it?

she was on her way to find you at the bar (like you said for her to find you). on her way there she saw a bright light reflection of a bronze turtle necklace. she got cold feet.

odd.

very odd.

jinx never felt like this. why was telling someone you want to be friends so hard?

all of this leads to now, her stalking you, watching you from rooftops. it wasn’t her initial intention! she just panicked. it was night; it was the perfect time for stalking anyway. jinx followed you. the paths you took were odd. just where were you heading?

an alleyway. alleyways in flosnum were nothing like zaun; they were dimly lit, painted murals with vines, and flowers blooming from the cracked cement, making it their home.

two men walk up to you. “you know we don’t want to do this.” one of them says sympathetically. you didn’t seem surprised; it was like you were expecting them.

“kiss my ass.” you bit back then a palm connected with your right cheek.

oh.

this was not what powder was expecting.

a fight broke out. for a young woman, you sure were holding your ground against two muscled middle-aged men. you certainly weren’t the most skilled person jinx had seen fight, but you made the most of what you could with your frame. jinx debated on whether she should help you out or not. you were obviously going to lose, as of now, you had it in the bag.

that was until one of them took hold of your hair behind you. the other man spit out the blood from his mouth onto the cement. “stop fighting back and just take the punishment.” he raised his fist and punched you in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you completely.

he winds up his fist again and you prepare yourself for the impact.

you then saw a streak of pink. it shimmered. there was no longer a man; there was a woman, strands of blue and purple peeking out of the hood.

wait a minute… you looked down to see the man underneath her feet. did she just land on him? “what the fuck…” your eyes trail back up to the woman.

“yes, yes, give it up for your hero.” jinx spreads out her arms, waiting for applause. before you could say anything, she was already off the man and gone from your view. you no longer felt a tight grip on your hair and stumbled forward.

the man backed up “who the hell—“ jinx lashes out a well-aimed kick to the man’s head, his head collides with the alleyway wall and turns into a limp.

it was over so quickly. your arm still wrapped around your stomach. the woman’s hood falls, though you already had a good guess on who it was, her pink eyes fixated on you.

not knowing what to do, you speak up. “were you stalking me?”

“seriously? no, thank you?”

“oh, of course, where are my manners? my knight in shining armor, thank you ever so much!” your words dripping with sarcasm a smirk gracing your lips.

“damn right, toots.” with her hands clasped behind her back she strolled toward you, her hips swaying with each stride. as she stopped directly in front of you her shimmering eyes darted around you nervously. “yes.”

confused at the simple word, you tilt your head, trying to make sense of it. her irises dilated.

“I want to be friends.” sparkling doe eyes met with yours briefly before darting away.

not knowing how to react, you spoke up, “did you come all this way to say that?” great working [name], you just ruined your chance of becoming friends with the cool blue-haired beauty.

seeing your mistake, you shook your head, recognizing how much of a poor choice of words that was. “shit, sorry.“ now she was leaning toward you she was close. so close. her face was just mere inches away from yours. “shut up and let me say this.”

yes ma’am.

getting out of your face, jinx tries to stand up straight. “i’m a handful— more than that. I just want you to know what you are getting yourself before…”

this was when you realized that powder wasn’t mysterious for the aesthetic. not because she was some attention seeker like some locals would say. not because she was a loser. powder had a past that genuinely haunted her. those eyes carried a lifetime of pain and the way her shoulders were slumped made her seem exhausted.

you didn’t know why she was she looked so drained. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to find out. despite her weary demeanor, she was still reaching out, still holding on, and you were willing to take her hand because if anything she it looked like she needed this more than you.

you wanted a cool friend. jinx needed a friend.

before jinx could continue speaking, you blurt out, “when do you want to hang out?” jinx wasn’t sure if she should smack you upside the head for interrupting her or if she should blow something up out of excitement… so she stared at you. fireworks seemed to pop behind her eyes.

“right now.” powder grabbed your hand in a swift motion, her grip firm yet fearful. the action causing you to pivot in the direction she was taking you. now running, she pulled you along with her. powder didn’t know where she was running, she just needed to get the jitters out of her with you at her side.

ignoring the fact your legs felt like jelly because of the recent fight you smile, “i still don’t know your name!” laughing into the breeze that rushes through your hair.

glancing back at you, jinx caught sight of your smile. as if the upturn of your lips were a virus, a smile tugged onto her lips. “i’ll tell you when i’m ready.” jinx’s words echoed behind them.

“alright, baby blue.”

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed

i am open to ideas for my next chapter! the chapter is full of fluff of them getting to know each other. its structure is split into weeks. week one: blah blah blah. week two: blah blah blah. week three: blah blah blah.

#arcane #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx x fem!reader #arcane x reader #jinx x y/n #wlw fanfic #arcane jinx x reader #x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #jinx x blkfem!reader #elka's shop #jinx arcane x reader

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crushpunky · 3 months ago

Text

rafe can’t stop thinking about kook!reader

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

It was a beautiful evening. The sun had just sat, casting a soft orange glow over the patio. Rafe stretched out on one of the loungers, drink in hand as he looked out towards the lapping waves of the ocean. Next to him, Sofia scrolled on her phone quietly, the two of them sitting in complete silence.

Despite the calming scenery, Rafe’s mind was anything but calm. Constant thoughts, questions, and worries filled his brain, but most of all, his mind filled with thoughts of y/n. He couldn’t stop thinking about her no matter how hard he tried. No matter how many girls he hooked up with or drugs he consumed, no matter how many times he saw her or talked to her every single day, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She consumed him entirely.

“You alright?” Sofia asked gently, looking up from her phone. She adjusted the strap of her bathing suit, a soft purple ensemble that reminded Rafe of the one y/n had worn on his sixteenth birthday. The day they spent getting drunk in his backyard, floating in the pool until the air grew too cold.

“Yeah,” Rafe grumbled, taking a sip of his drink. “Just tired.”

Sofia looked him over before turning back to her phone. Rafe didn’t feel particularly good about how he was using Sofia. She was a nice girl, and she was undoubtedly beautiful of course, but he just couldn’t feel anything. No matter how hard he tried to rid his head and heart of his best friend, move on with some other girl, he just couldn’t… and he hated himself for it.

With a sigh, Rafe reached into the pocket of his shorts and brought out a joint. Placing it between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. The smoke filled his lungs, giving his brain a brief moment of silence as he closed his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Rafe opened his eyes at Sofia’s voice.

“I’m fucking— I’m fine, Sofia.” Rafe sighed, running his hands along his head as he took another hit of his joint.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Sofia changed the subject. Rafe was doing his best to bite his tongue, but he really just needed a moment of silence.

“Getting coffee with y/n.” Rafe responded bluntly. It was a dumb question, really. He met with y/n every Thursday for coffee at their favorite cafe before taking a walk downtown. It had been a ritual they started in high school when they needed an escape from the chaos of homework and home lives and Rafe couldn’t have been more grateful for it. Sure, they saw each other almost every day, but that was with Topper and Kelce or whomever else would undoubtedly tag along, but this was different. Just the two of them, no outside pressures or expectations. Just two best friends and the connection that existed between them.

“Hmm.” Sofia chuckled lightly before turning back to her phone.

“What?” Rafe snapped, dabbing his joint out on the concrete.

“It’s just… you spend a lot of time with y/n. A lot more time than anyone else.” Sofia hummed.

“Yeah well she’s my best friend so…” Rafe scowled, straightening up in his seat. He wasn’t exactly sure what she was trying to say, and he certainly wasn’t fond of this sudden, what, jealousy? Sofia didn’t have the right to feel that way, it wasn’t like she was his girlfriend.

“I know that, Rafe. It just…” Sofia trailed off, shaking her head lightly.

“What? Spit it out.” Rafe said sharply.

“I don’t know. It just seems like you guys are really close.” Sofia said mindlessly, turning to look at Rafe apprehensively.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, huh?” Rafe snapped.

“You’re in love with her, Rafe.” Sofia said, her voice barely a whisper. Rafe felt his chest tighten, a swell of… something erupting in his stomach and threatening to bubble out. Was that what this obsession was? This constant need to be near her? This inability to stop thinking about her, the way she talked, smiled, laughed?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rafe swallowed harshly, avoiding Sofia’s gaze. The idea continued to swirl around his mind, this feeling of a complete loss of control over his own mind and body wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before… was this love? It certainly wasn’t like anything he had felt before, he thought.

“You can tell me, Rafe. I- I won’t be mad.” Sofia said, resting her hand on Rafe’s shoulder gently. He closed his eyes for a moment, mulling over the idea. The idea of saying what he was feeling out loud, making it real and not just something he could hide from the world, weighing on his mind…

“I…” Rafe felt his mouth dry up, his lips unable to speak and form the words he had thought so many times. He felt a sting, his vision beginning to blur as his eyes began to fill with tears. It was pathetic; he felt pathetic. Big, bad Rafe Cameron at a loss of words, tears in his eyes as he was forced to finally face the way he had been feeling for so long.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Rafe croaked out, blinking harshly as the tears began to streak down his cheeks, the weight of the words finally lifted. He was in love with his best friend. He was in love with y/n… and it terrified him.

#obx #obx au #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend. i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired man anything but joy. suguru isn’t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner.

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world.

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay.

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior.

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night.

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister.

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office.

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go.

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one.

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time.

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo.

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life.

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place.

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs.

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to.

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit.

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour.

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing.

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister.

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend.

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on.

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior.

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises.

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own.

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter.

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears.

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister.

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him.

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare.

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley.

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump.

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers.

more specifically, yourself.

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.”

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.”

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.”

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath.

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell.

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact.

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk.

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day.

the dark haired man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say.

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.”

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket.

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?”

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.”

“well, you were correct…”

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name.

“suguru.”

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.”

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away. “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.”

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister.

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform.

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.”

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly.

like a puppy. like you want to please him.

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud.

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine.

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another.

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese.

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now.

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you.

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.”

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.”

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you.

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function.

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum.

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him.

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery.

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside.

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him.

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself.

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner.

you’ve been waiting to see him.

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous.

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone.

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey.

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru.

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery.

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now.

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.”

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well.

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.”

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you, like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.”

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too.

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you.

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. “purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp.

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.”

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?”

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage.

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her.

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.”

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand. it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment.

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?”

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair.

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry.

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so.

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?”

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!”

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth.

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you.

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth.

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well.

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you.

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them.

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach.

how could he do this?

how could he want this?

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister.

to manipulate them into fucking him?

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood.

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans.

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor.

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again.

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop.

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you.

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this.

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum.

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?”

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…”

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest.

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.”

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.”

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you.

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure.

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo.

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.”

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls.

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her.

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you.

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back.

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?”

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex.

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides.

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him.

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling…

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state.

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates.

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well.

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.”

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls.

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?”

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock.

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm.

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister.

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on.

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.”

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.”

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.”

“what about the gifts?”

“those won’t stop either.”

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.”

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.”

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay.

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

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niki-phoria · 8 months ago

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WHEREVER YOU'RE GOIN', I'M GOIN' THE SAME

pairing: geto suguru x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: hurt comfort word count: 851

notes: late night smoking with suguru. that's it that's the post, loosely inspired by this fanart, my take on fix it fanfic, disclaimer that i don't actually smoke lmao, title from frank ocean - moon river

“do you have a light?”

GETO SUGURU barely reacts to the sound of your voice, simply sparing you a slight glance over his shoulder as he turns. he tucks his cigarette between his lips as he reaches into his pocket before slipping a small, black lighter into your hand. “here.”

“thanks.” the small flame glows brightly in the moonlight, illuminating the stairwell in gold. you let a cool gust of wind carry the smoke away from your face when you take a breath, closing your eyes as the nicotine fills your lungs.

“long day?” suguru’s voice is soft as it cuts through the quiet of the night. stray strands of ink black hair frame his face, exposing his sharp features. his hands are soft when they brush against your own before he tucks the lighter back into his pocket.

you hum, returning your attention back to the moon above. it’s little more than a sliver, shining brightly in the sky above. “something like that. and you?”

smoking wasn’t an uncommon habit among sorcerers. you had found yourself bumming cigarettes off of shoko more often than you’d like to admit - enjoying the feeling of your worries slipping away with each breath you took, health consequences be damned.

suguru nods, though you don’t see it. he sighs softly, letting another puff of smoke filter through the air. after a moment of silence, he finally murmurs, “long… month.”

ash filters through the air, staining the concrete near your feet. you don’t reply. there’s nothing to say.

sorcery is a monotonous grind - one that has done nothing but wear you down. even with the help of shoko’s technique, your body aches in various places. scars litter your chest and hands from years of combat. splotches of red and purple litter your skin as bruises linger for weeks on end.

“have you ever thought about… leaving?” suguru’s voice is so quiet you nearly miss it entirely. his gaze remains trained on the ground, studying the grooves of the concrete. you take another drag in lieu of responding, letting the ash fall to the ground below. another cloud of smoke surrounds you before the wind carries it away. “sometimes,” you finally whisper. “i think about what it would be like - having a normal life. but if i wasn’t a sorcerer, i don’t know what else i would do.”

suguru hums. he takes another drag from his cigarette; this one is longer. he pauses, letting the smoke fill his lungs before he exhales a puff of air. “i think i would go home.”

“home?” you turn to face him, silently resting your hand against his shoulder. suguru’s body sags in response as some of the tension begins to escape from his body. “to your parents?”

he nods. “i’d go to university. a real school, for once. or maybe get a job. something dumb - like working in a convenience store or a fast food place. just enough to get by and save up some money.”

you ash your cigarette, leaning back against the cool metal stairs. you can almost see the image in your head; suguru would be happier in a normal life, you suppose. “we’d live in a shitty apartment somewhere in the city and you would spend all night studying.”

he chuckles, shifting a little closer to you. you take the chance to slip your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together. “we could adopt a pet. sleep in on weekends. spend the nights curled up watching movies and dancing in our kitchen.” suguru’s voice wavers. you tighten your grip on his hand, stroking your thumb against his knuckles.

suguru moves just a little closer. his knee brushes against yours. with a shaky breath, he whispers, “would you still love me if i left?” this time there’s an unmistakable crack in his voice. he presses the tip of his cigarette against the ashtray harder than necessary before tossing it to the side. suguru leans in, resting his forehead against your own. his hands tremble before he curls them tightly into fists. “would you come with me?”

“suguru,” you whisper. you toss your own cigarette into the ashtray before reaching up, gingerly resting your hands against his face. his skin is cold; you can feel the tiny scars that litter his body beneath your fingertips. “of course i’ll go with you.”

he closes his eyes as he leans into your touch. one of suguru’s hands wraps around your wrist. his fingers press into your palm, tracing miscellaneous shapes into your skin. in the quiet of the night, you let the wind carry your secrets away. the moon shines brightly in the sky, surrounded by the faint gleam of stars littering the sky. suguru leans in, pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your forehead. “i love you,” he murmurs.

“i love you too,” you whisper.

suguru doesn’t say anything else. he doesn’t need to. his head rests against your shoulder - a comforting reminder of his presence beside you. under the cover of darkness, smoke fills the stairwell one last time before it drifts away with your promise.

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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shreddedhumanity · 4 months ago

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── .✦ Crystal Clear Tears ☆

𖥻 Pairings ; V/GN Reader, Vergil/GN Reader.

𖥻 Content Warnings ; Heavy, heavy angst, very much Hurt/Comfort, with a side of a dreadful but hopeful ending. As a fair warning, I did tear up and nearly out-right bawled writing this. Proceed carefully if you’re sensitive to heavier topics.

𖥻 A/N ; I’ve been sick, and I also have been struggling a lot recently with writer’s block and creative burnout. I wrote something to get my emotions out, and this is what I threw together. I’m aware it’s not of my usual quality and it’s also really emotional and angsty, and I apologize.

V was Vergil, and Vergil was V. The blend between the two was mere coincidence, for they were nowhere near similar in your eyes.

For the two to co-exist would be utter foolishness, as V was a fragment, a fragment of him—a fragment of his humanity, his ever-seeking soul in chase of a concept he would never grasp. To be human was to be of emotion, of human blood, of beauty and grace that he never sought for. The blood within Vergil’s veins was not of mankind, but of a sacred creation—and to seek out his divine power was his very reason to live, to breathe, to exist. V mattered not within his plans, so why must you have grown so infatuated with him. Why did your eyes seek out his? Why did your hands reach out to his, grasping and pulling the remains of his humanity from within? Why did he find himself wishing for your love, your happiness? And what could he do to rid himself of such unnecessary suffering that was humanity and its love for others?

Glossy eyes meet a pale, viridescent gaze. It was though time reached a stand-still. Crystal clear tears blend within the rain, the clouds melting away at the sight of sunlight, your shoes scratching against drenched concrete when you broke out into a run, arms encircling you so sweetly. The tears come, and they don’t stop as you unwind within his embrace. V was Vergil, and Vergil was V—and yet the two could co-exist. The mending of aged wounds, the loss and destruction faded away into the past. Vergil was human, for the blood in his veins were of sacred creation—of humanity, of grace, and of life. Vergil was a demon, for the blood in his veins were of dim creation—of destruction, of loss, and of death.

Crystal clear rain blends within the tears.

“Oh my sweet Sparrow, how I have missed you.” The voice is as smooth as silk. “To think I’d never see you again, it ruined me—but to have you in my embrace once more is a blessing from the heavens.” It mattered not to him the water that soaked his ebony coat, his arms remained locked around you in a tight grip, as if he never wanted to release his hold on you.

His words were true, and his actions spoke more. The rain poured, lightning painting the open skies with a brilliant array of purple and blue, and yet his grasp still remained. He held onto you until he could not no more—and it was until the clouds had cleared, the rain had stopped, and the wind had chilled—his grip on you lightened, until it was gone. You sit there, grieving, eyes met drying concrete. You sniffle, you cry, you sob, you pant, you shake.

“It’s going to rain again,” the icy voice speaks from above. You know it’s time to go. “I’m aware you miss him, but we must leave, and it’s best to not return.” You reached up, hand encasing his own. Vergil stared, gaze softened for a moment.

He is V, and V is him. He is human, and humanity is him—for he found the beauty and grace within the world he once denied. For he found his grace with you, his meaning, his purpose.

You were his humanity, and he was yours.

#✧ vergilscatgirl ౨ৎ˚₊‧#vergil x reader #vergil x you #v x reader #v x you #dmc #dmc5 #dmc v x reader #dmc v x you #angst angst angst #i wrote this while sick im sorry vergilscatgirl nation

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witchhaven · 2 months ago

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Self

As I've observed before, not all dolls are the same. Heart, is a cute little service doll, who cleans, and sometimes cooks, making sure I'm in lovely working order. Apple is a companion doll, who's there for the other dolls, growing even close enough to Heart to form a relationship. Thread is a wind-up doll, which I'm not sure about the purpose of, but it does seem to brighten the life of the next one in question. Soul is an example of a combat doll, who's grown past its purpose, living with the others in companionship of them all, much like Apple does.

Today, a new doll approaches me. I feel its steps lift it up to my patio before it even knocks on my door. This doll certainly didn't start as a doll, as I can feel from the implication of experience on its careful footsteps. It wears a button-up shirt, tucked into a black flowing skirt, with a pair of black floral tights underneath, and a pair of glossy black shoes. Enveloping the outfit is a loose fitting flowy black jacket with a dark purple silky lining. Framed by its porcelain-white skin are a pair of similarly dark purple eyes, magnified by a pair of round glasses. In its inky black hair is a white and purple hairpin detailing a luna moth.

Its ball-jointed right hand extends as it gently and politely reaches to knock on the door, stopping as it does this. The extended hand opens as it places its palm gingerly on my front door. It stands there, feeling the wooden surface as its eyes close.

"Ah, you're much like this one, aren't you, house?" The doll smiles as a warm feeling begins to permeate my door, emanating from the doll's hand.

I allow my door to open for Self, knowing exactly the reason why it came to me. It's exactly the same as all the other dolls' reasons, the only difference being the strange nature of its existence, the perception immediately felt in its presence as it carefully continues inside. Once Self has fully entered, it crouches down to remove its shoes and leave them by my door.

It claps its hands together, bowing slightly, "Thank you for allowing its presence."

I could feel the nature of the other dolls as they entered, but Self is a mystery to me. Its presence seems to be engineered to not leave an impact behind, as it carefully and gently steps, and it seems that its mind is much the same. I expect it to make its way to the kitchen much like the other dolls, and eventually find itself in another room for it, which I've already manifested, but it actively heads in the opposite direction, opening a door into a set of bare wooden stares leading into an underground room the other dolls have left yet unopened.

The room is concrete, and once a cord is pulled at the bottom of the stairs, a lightbulb illuminates the space laid bare and empty, with nothing but a closed door on the far corner. Self approaches, gently grasping the door's handle and turning. There's little resistance aside from that of the springs in a typical doorknob, but as Self pushes, the door doesn't seem to budge. Self backs up after some pushing, and retrieves a non-distinct leather-bound black book from its jacket pocket, thumbing through the pages until it lands on a particular one, extending its right hand to the door, and chanting something under its breath.

The nature of this chant, I do not know, but I feel some energy imbue itself into the door, emanating from Self. The energy seems to attempt to rotate the door open under its own impulse, but still the door doesn't budge. Self closes the book and returns it to its jacket pocket. Its brow furrows as it still has yet to find an answer to its unasked question. Perhaps I could find said answer if it would ask, but alas, for now, I must simply wait for it to sleep, where I'll undoubtedly come to its aid, as I have all the dolls who have slept in my embrace.

For now, Self seems to resign, as it backtracks back up the steps, and paces down the hall into the kitchen. In there, it meets the other dolls, who have been sharing tea with idle conversation.

"Ah, hello. This one is Self, sorry for-" Self is interrupted by Apple.

Apple excitedly approaches Self, "A new doll! It's lovely to meet you!"

Introductions go as they tend to, as Self is served tea and properly converses with the dolls present. The conversation continues late into the night, before the new doll is guided by Cream and Sugar to its new bedroom, where it lays down on the soft bed and allows the unconscious to lead it into my embrace. I do my best to envelop it as I share a view into its emotions.

I see a witch, inexperienced, but confident in her ability. She regularly experiments with rituals involving incense and candles, recording her results into a non-distinct black leather-bound journal. In addition, she records the results of many a divination, be it from tarot cards, or a pendulum. I see her detailed drawings depicting her own processes and her notes detailing results and conditions of the rituals themselves. The occasion arrives that the witch feels the need to perform rituals for protection in a living situation she's found herself in. It of course records the conditions, the incantation, and the process, but the result seems to be ineffective. The witch's living situation only becomes more trepidatious before it ends. I watch a world come crumbling down around this witch, leaving a figure kneeling in the middle of the ruins, which I can only assume at first to be her. It's not her though, not really. The witch has gone through a transformation, whether willing or not. What's left in her place is a ball-jointed porcelain doll which once upon a time used to be a witch. Self cries amidst the wreckage of once was, forgetting about recording the result of a ritual, simply weeping and allowing itself to break, in the middle of nothing.

I envelop Self, as I do my best to reach arms around it, and pick it up into a cradle position. I manifest my mouth near its left ear and attempt to whisper to it.

My attempt is met with success, "It's okay... You don't need to hurt anymore..."

#empty spaces #not a person #writing #dollposting #dollblr #doll #dolls #cw depersonalization #cw abuse

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all-about-kyu · 1 year ago

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Summary: You decided to surprise San at the office, and things get a bit… out of hand… Pairing: Dragon!San x fem bunny hybrid!reader Tropes: hybrid au, poly au (background) Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, pet names, reader has blue eyes due to being a bunny, magic usage Smut Warnings: kissing, oral (f receive), psuedo exhibitionism, possessiveness Word Count: 2,527 Note: Happy (very late) birthday, Topaz @sanjoongie! I hope you enjoy!!

Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires Masterlist

Before You Interact

“Where are you off to?” A rather nosy pink-eyed dragon asks.

“Well,” you start, “I know Sannie’s been stressed with this merger he’s working on… I was gonna go to the office to surprise him.”

Although you’re not particularly close with Wooyoung, he’s been nothing but welcoming and kind. That only shows more when he flashes a bright smile at you, his sharp fangs showing as he does so. The bar through his eyebrow glints in the kitchen lighting as his eyebrows scrunch slightly with the intensity of his smile.

“Well, I’m finishing up some lunch, and if you want, I can pack some up so you can take it to him. It’s nothing special, just a bulgogi bowl, but I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” the white-scaled dragon offers, “I can pack some rice and veggies for you, too. If you’d like that!”

You smile at him, ears perked up on top of your head. “I’d really like that, actually, thank you.”

Wooyoung nods at you and immediately starts preparing two boxes to transport the food in. As you wait, you look at the purple-haired man in more detail than normal. Not in any way other than to observe him. He practically lives in his dance studio, so to see him now, you know you should keep a visual log of him. A tattoo of lightning strikes stands out against the skin of his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his slightly too big long-sleeve shirt as he meticulously packs the food he offered earlier. You stay silent as he does so. The silence isn’t awkward, though. With some of the Thunder, you do feel a bit of tension. With Wooyoung, though, you’ve never felt uneasy. When he hands you a small bag with the containers, he offers you another smile with a giggle laced into it.

“Have fun on your adventures! I’ll tell your other boyfriends where you’re off to in case they ask.”

You shake your head, “Jongho is with a client, Yeosang is dead asleep after trying to pull an all-nighter, and Seonghwa is booked solid. I doubt any of them will be looking for me any time soon. I appreciate the offer, though. Bye, Woo!”

And with that, you’re out the door and heading toward San’s office. It’s much too far to walk, and although your boyfriends never let you drive, you can do so. The drive isn’t horrible… until you get into the heart of the city where San’s company is housed. Among the concrete jungle, his starkly black glass skyscraper stands out. The traffic around the area leaves much to be desired. Sitting in the same spot, not even 500 feet from the entrance to the parking garage below the building, for nearly ten minutes is a form of torture you’d never wish upon anyone. Once you get to the entrance of the garage, the security simply sees the car and then your face and lets you pass. With how often you’ve shown up (typically accompanying San), the most important staff members know who you are.

While the ride up to San’s top-floor office is long, you find yourself more excited with each floor you pass. Your tail wiggles beneath the length of your cardigan as a way to expel some of that excited energy. A few of the chairmen say hello to you in passing once you do exit the elevator. It seems that San must’ve just gotten out of a meeting with a few of them based on how many you saw. Then, stopping outside his office in front of his secretary’s desk, you lean forward toward the deer hybrid. With one elbow on top of the ledge, you rest your chin on your palm.

“Hey, you.” You call playfully.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were coming today! If I had known-”

“Somin, calm down,” you giggle, “I didn’t tell you or San I was coming. I’m surprising him. Play along?”

The other prey hybrid nods and smiles softly. You watch as she presses a few buttons on the intercom before it starts ringing. After about three rings, you hear San pick up the other end of the line. You step past her desk and stand by the large dark cherry wood doors that lead to your purple-scaled boyfriend.

“Yes, Somin?” He asks. You can hear that he’s preoccupied with some paperwork just by his tone.

“You have someone here to see you.” The deer hybrid says calmly.

“Somin…” A warning tone in his voice sends a chill down your spine and settles between your legs, “I just started my lunch break. Why would you-”

You push open the door and walk right in. A bright smile radiated from your lips, and your tall white ears stood high with joy.

“If you don’t want home-cooked food from Wooyoung or to see your favorite bunny, just say so.” You tease.

San’s pending annoyance instantly simmers, and he whisks you up in his arms. His silver lip ring stands out against his plump, pink lips as they grow into a smile. You giggle as he lifts you up and hugs you tight against his body. Typically, he doesn’t show much physical affection while he’s in his office. Him picking you up and holding you tight against his muscular frame has your heart and stomach flooding with butterflies. You feel him take a few steps back into the office before nudging the door shut with his foot. He puts you down and takes the small bag with the food from you.

“You didn’t even let me say bye to Somin.” You say with a pout.

“You’ll see her on your way out.” San reminds you, “I want to take up as much time as I can with you.”

You make your way over to the black leather couch, plop down, and wait for San to join you to eat. Normally, he eats at his desk, drowning in papers as he eats. He makes an exception with you here and sits with you on the couch. Despite the office being very formal, the couch is framed by two tall bookshelves. There’s a mix of different genres. Of course, he has some boring books that pertain to his career. But fantasy, classical, mystery, and many more books are on the shelves. San sits down beside you and pulls out the containers before placing them side by side on the glass coffee table in front of you.

“How were your morning meetings?” You question once he starts opening the containers.

“Not bad… Mr. Kim tried to tell me how to run my company again.” He starts to grumble at the end.

“And you’ve never let him.” You remind him before taking a bite of your veggies and rice. “You do an amazing job, and we both know that.”

He nods, his slitted pupils dilating when he looks at you, “It was nice of Wooyoung to make you a veggie bowl.”

“Yeah, he actually stopped me on my way out and offered to send me with the food. I think he just made too much, honestly.” You giggle.

You and San float through conversation as you eat. At some point, you whined about your food getting a little too cold for your liking. San instantly takes the container from you and heats his hand just enough to warm your food back up. As your time together progresses, you end up practically on top of your silver-eyed boyfriend. You’re tucked under his arm, legs curled up on the couch while you finish the last few bites of your food. His typically neat button-up is slightly wrinkled, and a bit of your snow-white fur has found its way onto the black fabric.

“Treasure.” San sighs, placing both containers on the table after you finish eating.

“Hmm?” you hum back, looking up at him, “Is everything okay?”

“Come sit.” He tells you while patting his thigh.

You don’t waste a second. You move from being tucked under his arm to straddling his lap. His hands fall onto your hips, rubbing his thumb against your left one in small circular motions. You normally can’t smell your scent, but now, you smell yourself clearly and smell how sweet your scent has become. A smirk touches San’s lips. You see a small tendril of smoke escape his lip. The smoke curls around his lip ring before disappearing into the air.

“You smell so good right now, Treasure.” He practically growls, “It’s taking everything in me not to jump you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?” You challenge.

A curl of smoke escapes the corner of your boyfriend’s lips, and his pupils sharpen; you can hardly see them. He’s trying so hard to maintain his composure, but you both know he’s weak to you. His large hands press harder into your hip bone, hoping to remain composed. He snaps when you whimper, and your nose starts twitching as a response to the predatory hybrid. You find yourself spun around and bent over the couch he had been seated on moments ago.

“I’m so happy you chose to wear this dress today, Treasure.” He practically growls as he kneels down, running the pad of his finger against your clothed folds, “You’re already soaked, and I’ve barely touched you.”

On a normal day, San makes you melt into a puddle. Something about doing this here in his office with the city below you makes you practically vibrate with excitement. You feel the heat of his lip ring against the back of your thigh. His kisses trail higher and higher until he’s pressing barely there kisses against your clothed heat. His lip ring burns hot through the fabric. Just when you think you may go insane from the thin barrier between your core and San’s lips, he tugs the material. A rip sounds through the office.

“You don’t need them here, Treasure. No one’s gonna see you like this but me.” he practically growls.

Before you can formulate any response, San’s tongue delves into you. The pink muscle is normally warm as is, but he seems to have heated it more. The hot feeling of his tongue deep inside you makes your thighs twitch. Your head falls forward against the back of the couch; your ears flop forward in front of your face along the leather.

“Sannie,” you whine, grinding back on his tongue more.

“Hmm?” San responds, and the vibration of his voice sends tendrils of pleasure through your body.

You can’t even think of what you wanted to say to him mere seconds ago. Instead, you grind back against his face more. Your silver-eyed boyfriend has other plans, though. You swear you can feel him smirk before letting a hand trail along your thigh. His nails scrape against your skin just enough to leave thin red marks in their wake. The fingers trail around between your thighs just in front of his face and start gently grazing across your clit. Just enough for you to be aware of the stimulation but not enough to give you any release.

“Do you want something, Treasure?” He mumbles before continuing to lap at your folds.

“Sannie,” you whimper, “want- fuck- want-” You cut yourself off with a moan.

You try to push back against him again, only to have his other hand grip your tail. You let out a loud moan and tremble at the contact. Your orgasm comes out of left field, and you crumble against the couch as your boyfriend helps you ride out your high. The moment you come back down, you find yourself limp over the back of the couch. Your thighs are still trembling, and your snowy ears twitch slightly.

“Treasure.” San calls with authority in his tone, “You didn’t answer my question, I’m afraid-”

His words get cut off by the sound of his desk phone ringing. You hear a huff before he strides over. Rolling so you lay against the cool leather. San clearly is hard inside his dress pants but focuses on getting to the incessant ringing phone. He throws himself back in his large office chair and presses the button to allow the call to be on speaker.

“M-Mr. Choi,” It’s Somin, “The officials from-”

The sound is cut off from your ears when San picks up the phone and brings it to his ear. You glance at the scraps of your panties on the floor and kick them under the couch before quietly walking up to your boyfriend. His eyes follow you as he listens to his secretary.

“You mean to tell me that they’re an hour early? They aren’t supposed to be here until 3pm.”

You don’t hear Somin’s response, but San’s silver eyes dart to the clock on the wall. It is 3pm. Your pale blue eyes meet San’s silver ones before you step closer. You push his shoulder just enough to move his chair back. The chord of the phone stretches just a bit but not enough to strain it.

“What are you doing?” The purple dragon mouths to you.

You hold a finger up to your lip. You kneel down and shimmy your way under his desk. His pupils are thinly slit again. Seeing the shift from how dilated they were moments ago sends shivers up your spine. His eyes stay trained on you as you run your hands over his strong thighs. Another curl of smoke escapes his lips. He’s trying so hard to hold back.

“H-huh? Yes, Somin, I heard you. Yes, yes-”

San takes a sharp breath when your hand runs over his clothed member. You can feel the small hard bubbles that run up his member. Your mouth waters like a Pavlovian response to it.

“They’re downstairs, you said?” San asks, trying to maintain his composure. “Yeah, send them up.” he tells her, a fire burning in his eyes as he watches you. “She’ll be leaving shortly, it’s okay.”

You give him big, innocent eyes, and ears back against your hair as you start to play with his belt buckle. He leans forward and places the phone back on the stand. A small flicker of flames is visible as he pulls his hand back from the device. He gives you a burning stare, his pupils practically swallowed by the metallic silver swirling in his irises.

“Behave yourself.” He bites, “If you can behave while I have this meeting, you’ll be forgiven from enduring that punishment I was about to dole out.”

You nod, “Can’t I have a bit of fun, though?” You bat your eyelashes at him, hoping to sway his choice.

“After they’re seated.” He caves, “And you’ll take whatever I give you. No funny business, understand?”

“Yes, sir!” You respond with a slightly teasing giggle to your tone.

A growl, followed by a tendril of smoke from his nostril, escapes him. He looks as though he’s about to correct your rather sudden bratty behavior before a knock sounds on the dark cherry wood door. He doesn’t say a word to you, but his eyes speak for him. ‘Behave yourself and stay quiet, or you’ll pay the price.’