#my man hanging from his life almost forgot

[cabinetofquriosities]

The Ritual

Agatha x Reader || Warnings: Smut, violence

Done for an exchange with @marril96 who made this gifset as a preview for my upcoming detective Agathario fic. Check her stuff out!

Agatha hadn’t been able to use her magic for months.

She couldn’t sense a hex or a binding spell. If there was one, it was intricately done. No, there was a block. Regular people had the flu, witches had blocks. It wasn’t often and it typically never lasted more than a few days.

It was sometimes brought on by being near overpowering magic while your own was unstable. Other possible causes were new overwhelming emotional changes, mental torture, or lack of practice for more than a few decades. It was often psychosomatic, caused by the mind rather than anything external.

Agatha had never suffered from it, given that her major life changes were almost immediately followed by absorbing the powers of a coven. Nicky died, she created the con of the road. Rio left her after brief reunions, she would find more witches to use. The pair had finally let go of one another decades ago, so it couldn’t have been Rio.

When she met you, though, her entire world shifted. She was finally feeling grounded by someone who wasn’t running off for a greater purpose like her ex did. You both made each other your purpose.

She had plunged the depths of her mind to figure out what the cause of her block was, but couldn’t find anything. She researched every text on the subject of blocked magic. All it said was to find the cause and make peace. Agatha had always considered peace to be overrated.

Agatha had moved in with you a few months prior, right around the time of her magic freezing up. You both lived in an old victorian at the edge of the woods. You found yourself holding her at night, whispering words of comfort in her ear. You would help her look for answers while reading up on your own healing magic. You supported her the best you could. She was happy with you, but incomplete without her purple. It was a new thing for Agatha to feel happy and to feel powerless. Both were unnatural states for her.

One day, you were working on a new healing salve as the sun set outside. You plucked a bloom from the dried flowers you had hanging over the kitchen island amidst the pots and pans. You dropped it into the boiling water, watching the color change.

A crash yanked you out of your focus. You froze, conjuring a ball of energy in your palm as you listened for a possible threat. Instead, you heard a familiar groan. You extinguished the orb before running to the source of the sound.

Agatha had collapsed after opening the door. Blood poured from a wound in her side. She had bruises and cuts all over her form. You knelt down, moving her onto her back so you could get a better look at the damage.

“What happened?!” you asked in a panic.

Agatha let out a pained wheeze. Your heart raced and your chest tightened.

Agatha coughed up some blood before saying, “A warlock… he followed me from the magic shop in town… he knew who I was. Wanted to… be the killer of the witch killer.”

As if she had summoned him herself, a tall man appeared in the doorway. He was unable to come inside due to the sigils surrounding the house. He smiled and laughed.

“A healer? Oh, this is going to be far too easy. I am surprised the great witch Agatha Harkness couldn’t find a protection witch to keep her s-“

You cut him off with a powerful beam of destruction shooting out from your palm. So many mistook healers for being peaceful or having passive magic. They didn’t realize that such witches also held command of the opposite end of the spectrum. While you could heal, you could also harm more harshly than other types of witches. It was the balance of magic that some so easily forgot.

The warlock landed in the dirt like a ragdoll. You stepped out onto the porch, looming over him. He winced, opening his mouth to say something before you shot him with another blast, holding this one until it left him a blackened husk of meat.

Once your were assured of his demise, you ran back to Agatha’s side. She wasn’t doing well. You knelt down, having a second look at her injuries. She gasped sharply in pain as you moved her shirt up enough to see the wound. It was definitely one that could prove to be fatal with how much blood was being lost. You were too far from any hospital, so you would have to find a way to somehow heal an injury that was damn near impossible to do with magic.

You were a healer, yes, but you were a healer of witches. You could only help so much with fixing regular people, especially when they were harmed by a witch or warlock. With witches, she could channel her magic into theirs to heal their bodies. The fact that Agatha no longer had access to her power meant that you couldn’t save her life without going to extreme lengths. Even then, there was only a chance of success.

You stood up and ran to the kitchen, leaving Agatha on the floor in the entryway.

“Oh no… it’s fine… I’ll stay right here…” she called.

You would have smiled if not for your fear. As long as she was being her sarcastic self, she was still alive. You already had half of the concoction done since you had been working on healing salves already, but the substance itself wouldn’t be enough. It needed a ritual to go along with it.

You threw in more ingredients and let them boil as you ran to the living room to retrieve candles. You rapidly and clumsily set them down in a circle around your girlfriend. You noticed her eyes had drifted closed. Your stomach dropped and you bent down, shaking her awake. Agatha woke, groaning in pain.

“Owww! Damn it!” she scolded.

“Good! Keep yelling at me. Keep your eyes open. I’ll be right back,” you said before running off.

She did just as you said, finally following orders for once. You ripped a page out of one of your spell books. She loudly complained about everything she could as you brought the serum, gemstones, matches, and chalk out. You set them all down and got to work. You drew sigils in chalk between each candle before lighting it. The gemstones were placed in a specific order.

You consulted the torn page that detailed the ritual. You had never attempted this ritual before. It was too risky for both parties involved. If it went wrong, your own form could be drained of life along with hers. Agatha, who had been bitching just a moment before, recognized the preparations.

“No…” she said.

“Yes,” you said back while lighting the final candle.

“No… there has to be another w-“

“This is the only way.”

“My love, you can’t…”

“I can and I will,” you said with an assuredness that you weren’t sure you completely felt.

You moved into the circle with her, stripping her clothing from her. She gasped and winced, but neither of you had the luxury of being delicate. You carried on, taking the serum and pouring it from the pot over her torso, coating the injury. Her back arched as she screamed out in pain. You hated that you were unable to let it cool properly. The salve instantly healed the burns caused by the boiling temperature. She passed out from shock, but you slapped her awake.

“Agh! What the fuck?!” she yelled, “You couldn’t have BLOWN ON IT or added ice before giving me THIRD DEGREE BURNS?!”

“Oh, hush, they’re already gone,” you chided.

You began chanting in Sumerian as the energy around them shifted. The ritual was older than most, something that was created before Latin. The candles would be the first measure of how it was working. The flame shrank to nearly nothing, signifying a lack of effectiveness. A second passed before the wicks re-ignited with bursts of fire. You felt your body relax slightly as you kept chanting.

You then changed your chant, moving to her wound. You hovered your hands over it as they glowed. The imbalance of power created a vacuum, with Agatha’s lack of magic causing your own to begin breaking down. Your face began to lose color and your arms shook. The gemstones vibrated against the wooden floor as a warning that you swiftly disregarded. Agatha realized what was happening, watching your lips turn blue as her own body began going cold. You doubled over, your face close to her shoulder.

“S-stop,” she whimpered, wanting at least one of you to survive the ritual.

You simply kept chanting, even as your voice constricted. Agatha brought her hand up and cupped your cheek. You turned your head to face her, knowing in that moment that you would rather die with her in an effort to save her than sacrifice her to save yourself. The only way out was through, for better or worse.

You leaned into her touch as your skin began to warm again. You watched pink returning to her lips and cheeks. The wound was also beginning to heal slightly. You could tell from Agatha’s smile that you looked better as well. You finished the chant and looked back at the page showing the steps of the ritual. A sly smile tugged at your lips.

“I doubt we will have an issue with this part,” you said.

“What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer as you hiked up her loose skirt. You said an incantation before bending Agatha’s legs. You leaned down, your eyes gazing into your girlfriend’s as your tongue slipped inside of her. Agatha whimpered before arching her back. She shook from the shooting pain of the wound, but the pleasure outweighed it.

You slid two fingers into her, curling them with every thrust. You needed to bring her to the peak of pleasure to essentially give her body a jump the way you would a car. It would give Agatha a magical influx on par with adrenaline in combination with electric shocks to the chest. With nothing to work off of on Agatha’s side, you had no clue if you would survive this. Her climax could restore her or it could drain you both depending on what the universe allowed.

Although you would never tell Agatha for fear of giving her a fatal case of performance anxiety, Agatha was familiar enough with the ritual to know the stakes. She looked down at you with so much love. She had been so terrified of having someone who she loved like this in her life, but this risk you were taking for her cemented what she should have already known. You were devoted to her more than anything and would never leave. As that realization clicked into place, something finally changed within herself.

Just as you were beginning to feel another drain, Agatha’s body began to emanate energy. The magic rushed through her, finally flooding in after months of being blocked. Her acceptance of you as a constant in her life sparked it.

You could taste the power restoring itself as you devoured her. You sucked aggressively on her clit as your fingers thrusted faster. Both of your eyes locked, your magic balancing with hers. The wound healed with a blinding glow, closing completely with her orgasm.

She had never looked more beautiful than she did in that moment with her energy visibly engulfing her. Shades of purple licked at the outline of her form. Her eyes shone with violet and gold. Her walls clenched and pulsed around your fingers.

One candle flame extinguished itself after another. The stones stilled. The aura of Agatha’s power absorbed back into her. She took a shaky breath, lifting herself up on shaking arms. You crawled over her before kneeling, straddling her lap. Your palm rubbed over her now unharmed skin. You couldn’t believe it had worked.

Her hands held your face and guided you to look at her. You beamed at her like you had fallen for her all over again without knowing.

[wishfulsketching]

Some doodles I made of the finale of dndads, very random. Also lets all agree Ron is standing on a very tall rock :)

I keep drawing the omega daddies but that’s because I stumbled upon a theme song for them so now every time I hear it, I end up doodling them.

[fmhobeus]

fwb!suguru who knew he wanted to fuck when he first laid eyes on you. then wanted to take you out to endless dinners to chat his ears off when he first spoke to you.

fwb!suguru who grew to like you without fucking you, almost forgot it was what he wanted you for – a life together or a night together?

fwb!suguru whose dick got painfully hard when you taunted him, rolled your eyes at him or outwitted him. he lived for your sassiness.

fwb!suguru who happened to fuck you on a random night unexpectedly and it changed the trajectory of his life.

fwb!suguru who stayed after every dick appointment. cuddled with you on the bed, watched movies or your favourite TV show, ordered take out and held you in his arms till you both inevitably fell asleep.

fwb!suguru who couldve sworn he wasn't in love with you. he would still fuck other people (and then come back to you, poor baby was thinking of you the whole time)

fwb!suguru whose grown accustomed to your presence. he calls you when he isn't feeling okay, you call him when something bothers you. he's grown used to you telling him all about work, how you got your nails done, how you saw a cute cat near your apartment. trivial details, which coming from anyone else he would hang up, but he looks forward to them with you.

fwb!suguru who eventually stops fucking other people and is just your man, without you knowing.

fwb!suguru who is determined to mark you up in placed people will notice. your neck, your thighs, your collarbones.

fwb!suguru who believes in giving you his all. all of his long girthy dick that pumps you full it should be criminal, his long slim fingers that have made you orgasm so often and hit that deep spot with unbeat ease, his long tounge... oh god his tounge. he thinks maybe even his long life ahead is yours too, all yours. his little kids too maybe? he doesn't like to think too much about that.

fwb!suguru who has to have your pussy checked with his tounge daily. he has to lap up your insides no matter any circumstances. his voice purrs across your body when he talks you through your orgasm.

"mhmm yeah cum all over my face beautiful, I know you want to"

fwb!suguru who gets sick at the thought of you sitting so pretty for another man when you tell him you're going on a date. suguru who looks so disturbed at the thought of another man even looking at his pretty girl who isn't really his.

fwb!suguru who takes you to corporate events just so he can call you his girlfriend, even if it's just pretend. when you question him it's always "easier explanation than a friend i fuck on the regular, isn't it?"

fwb!suguru who knows how you like your coffee in the morning. he knows what you like for breakfast, your comfort food, your hobbies, your favourite movies, your least favourite movies, your icks, your past. he knows you like he knows himself. he thinks of you when he passes your favourite cafe, he texts you when he sees something in the colour you like.

fwb!suguru who is sure he hasn't felt this way before, who is so vulnerable with you that it scares the shit out of him.

fwb!suguru who is afraid, angered at everything about you. he's angry at how you lull him into a sense of security, how you hold him, how sweet your voice sounds when you call him by his name, how you take care of him, how you listen to him. he hates how your pussy clenches his dick for dear life, milking it dry and how you never let a drop of his cum go to waste, licking it up like a little slut. he's fearful too. about losing you. about where loving you the way he does leads. loving you? wait. he loves you? fuck. fuck. fuck. this hasn't been according to plan at all.

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[osaemu]

GETO SUGURU: ❛❛ SNOWFLAKES IN MY STOMACH WHEN WE KISSIN' ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ your boyfriend can't be home for christmas? fine then, you'll just spend it with his best friend! but be prepared, 'cause your boyfriend's gonna be mad when he gets home. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. modern!au. best friend!gojo. degradation, spanking, p –> v, you guys are loud and you get walked in on! gojo gets slutshamed.. a lot. and he's very annoying!! also there's lots of borderline crack in this fic, have fun with that! 3.6k words, not proofread.

author's note: it's been a hottt minute since i've written for geto and i lowk forgot how to write him.. anyways.

“what do you mean, you’re not coming home for christmas?” you huff, hopping on your bed and lying on your stomach. 

the man on the other end of the phone sighs exasperatedly, and you can almost see suguru massage his temples when he replies, “i have work, baby. i’m sorry, but i really can’t miss this chance to—”

it’s the night before christmas eve, and you just learned that suguru won’t be home in time to spend christmas with you—obviously, you were upset, because you’d been looking forward to spending the holidays with him. but to your dismay, holiday season’s always the busiest time of the year for businessmen like suguru.

“fine,” you groan, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you do so, and you mutter something about life not being fair as suguru lists all the reasons he can’t be home by christmas morning.

“i have a big meeting with some potential investors tomorrow, and there’s no way i’ll be back by the morning after,” suguru explains tiredly. you can hear the sleepiness in his voice, but the selfish part of you wants to keep him on the phone longer—it’s only seven, and you could easily spend the next couple hours convincing him to come home sooner.

“but suguru—” you try, even though you know nothing’ll convince him at this point. 

“i’m sorry, honey,” he interrupts. after a moment, suguru’s voice softens and he continues, “i just can’t make it home by christmas. we can spend the day after together, though—i think i’ll be free for the rest of the week.”

you roll off the bed, stuffing one hand in the pocket of your hoodie—suguru’s hoodie—as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a mug of hot chocolate. the other hand still holds your phone to your ear, and you swallow back the rest of the protests you have to suguru’s absence.

“anyways, i gotta go,” suguru murmurs, obviously suppressing a yawn. “love you, baby. n’ i’m sorry, but i really can’t do anything about it.” 

he hangs up before you can reply.

almost instantly, you dial satoru’s number—he’s probably the only other person you and suguru both trust enough to confide in about your problems, and like always, satoru picks up right away.

“hey, satoru?”

“heyyy, i already heard about it from suguru,” satoru replies, and there’s some suspicious squelching sounds in the background. are those grunts, too?

“uh, what are you doing?” you ask tentatively, hopping on the counter and sitting with your back pressed against the wall. the oddly wet sounds continue for a couple more seconds, and then they stop. “satoru?”

“shit, sorry, i was in the middle of something,” he replies with a breathless laugh. “yeah, i’m done now. wanna see?” your phone lights up with an invitation to facetime, and you hit the ‘x’ immediately.

“no, i don’t want to see whatever the fuck you’re doing,” you grumble, ignoring his laughter. “you’re disgusting, i’ll call you ba—”

“no, i’m free, i’m free!” satoru interrupts, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “suguru won’t be back for christmas, right?” 

you pause and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. “yeah, he won’t be.”

“and you want a way to get him to come back sooner, right?”

“yep. you have anything in mind?” you ask, half-hoping that satoru’ll be able to come up with some genius plan to get your boyfriend to fly back here to make it in time for christmas. but if you’re being honest, you know that there are very few things that could convince suguru to drop his supposedly important meeting and come straight home.

and somehow, satoru devises a plan that makes you certain he will.

————

the next morning, you receive a text from suguru asking you to facetime—under normal circumstances, you’d just ask him to call instead since you’re at a cafe, but not today. today, you want him to see you and your mischievous little plan, so you eagerly accept.

“hey, sweetheart,” suguru says the second the call connects. his dark hair is pulled back into its usual half-down half-up style, and he props up his phone on something to use his reflection to adjust his tie. “how are y— wait, is that satoru’s jacket?”

you smile innocently and turn the phone to show satoru, who’s sitting just across from you at the table by the window. after satoru’s taken his time to wave and blow a kiss to suguru (who rolls his eyes in response), you turn the phone back and say, “oh, i just got a little cold. it’s pretty chilly down here!”

suguru frowns, brown eyes narrowing at your cheeky expression. “very funny. why didn’t you just bring your own jacket? or one of mine?”

oh, this is the question you’ve been waiting for. you shrug off satoru’s rather comfortable jacket and show suguru the tight, long-sleeved shirt you’re wearing underneath it. the fabric hugs your skin in a way that shows off all your curves, and even better, it’s a light shade of blue that’s somewhere in between the color of satoru’s eyes and hair. 

“i did! but then it just got so cold and satoru was nice enough to offer me his jacket,” you say nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way suguru’s jaw tightens. you flutter your eyelashes innocently and smile at suguru, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes focus on your outfit.

“you jealous?” satoru chimes in, snatching the phone out of your hand and posing in front of it, admiring himself in the camera.

“no,” suguru mutters, but it wouldn’t take a genius to tell that he’s just lying through his teeth. satoru grins in response, making a peace sign with his hand and winking.

“good, ‘cause i’m gonna be hangin’ out with her all day long!” satoru cooes, blowing suguru another kiss before you swipe your phone back out of his hand.

“is he joking?” suguru grumbles, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. you shrug in response, not buying his cool and collected persona. you know suguru better than most, and the subtle way his shoulders tensed the second he saw you in satoru’s jacket gave it all away.

“nope,” you reply, soft lips tugging themselves into a little smile. “we might spend christmas together too, ‘cause you won’t be here. but i guess i don’t really mind anymore—satoru’s good company!”

satoru covers his mouth to hide his laughter at your comment, giving you a thumbs-up when suguru doesn’t reply. your boyfriend says something about already being late and having to go, and this time, you’re the one who hangs up.

“oh, we definitely got him,” you grin, smugly lifting your mug of hot cocoa and clinking it with satoru’s in a celebratory expression. satoru hums in agreement before he takes a sip of his cocoa, face growing pink at the sudden warmth.

“so, how long d’you think it’ll be until suguru texts you that he’s on his way?” satoru asks, leaning back in his chair and blowing on his cup to cool off the smoking-hot liquid.

“hopefully soon.”

“i’m betting on… three hours.”

three hours later, you don’t get a single text from suguru. four hours later, nothing. on the fifth hour, you finally receive a message from him, but it’s just a “how are you?”

“was that not enough?” you whine, half-looking at your phone as you walk through the mall with satoru. “how else can i convince sugu to come back by tomorrow?”

satoru shrugs, pulling the red lollipop he got from a toy shop’s cashier out of his mouth. “i mean, we tried jealousy, so how ‘bout we go the other route?”

you tilt your head curiously, waiting for satoru to elaborate. 

“y’know, why don’t ya tempt him in… other ways?” satoru wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your face grows warm despite the chilly air around you.

“satoru…” you pause, face unreadable as you stop walking and turn to him. satoru holds his breath in anticipation, waiting for your verdict.

“that’s a really good idea.”

————

and that’s how you ended up in a clothing store, sifting through hundreds of dresses in search of one that’d be alluring enough to draw suguru back home.

“what color does he like on you?” satoru asks, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he’s receiving from the other people in the store as he examines handfuls of dresses with interest. “red? black? white?”

you shrug, running your fingers over a form-fitting dress the color of suguru’s eyes. “i dunno, do you think he’d like this?”

satoru turns, takes one look at the dress, and instantly grabs it. “c’mon, let’s get you into a dressing room.”

the second you and satoru get there, the dressing room attendant gives you both a weird look. her eyes settle on satoru, and she asks, “weren’t you just here a week ago with another girl?”

satoru’s face goes redder than you’ve ever seen it. “uh, yeah, i was. oh, this one’s my best friend’s girlfriend, not mine—”

you shove him aside and hand the dress to the attendant, smiling bashfully. “just trying on this one, thanks.”

the attendant eyes satoru suspiciously and then nods. “okay, but he doesn’t get to go inside. last time, we got a noise complaint from the other customers.”

if you thought satoru’s face was red before, now it’s a shade redder than you knew was possible. in fact, you’re almost considering sending him to the hospital to get checked on as you close the dressing room door behind you and try the dress on.

it’s a little tight, but that’s expected given the skin-hugging fabric. after a couple minutes, you turn and admire yourself in the mirror—the dress, thankfully, fits perfectly. the fabric accentuates your features in the best way possible, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from staring in the mirror any longer.

“how do i look?” you ask, stepping out of the dressing room and doing a twirl for satoru. his jaw drops, and he nods instantly. 

“yeah, this is the one,” satoru affirms, taking out his phone. “want me to be the one to send the pics to suguru? that way we can still make him jealous!”

you give him a thumbs-up and blow a kiss at the camera, trusting satoru to take a flattering picture before you head back into the room to change out. on your way out of the store, you buy the dress at the counter—knowing suguru, he wouldn’t reply to satoru’s text, but you just knew he was dying to see you in that in person.

————

later that night, well after satoru’s gone back to his house and you’re relaxing in your own, suguru texts you again.

sugu: can we call?

you grin and roll over onto your back, nestling yourself deeper into your pillows before you dial his number. it only rings once before he picks up, and he instantly asks if satoru’s still with you.

“nah, he went home,” you say offhandedly, toying with the corner of your sheets. “did you like my dress?” you ask coyly, enjoying the way suguru pauses for a long second before replying.

“yeah, it looked good on you.”

“that’s it?”

“it really brought out your eyes.”

you bite your tongue to suppress a groan, instead opting to bury your face in a pillow instead. you had just spent the past twenty-four hours running around in circles, doing everything possible to get suguru to come back, and that’s all you get? really?

“anyways,” suguru continues, and you hear a soft rustling sound in the background—if you had to guess, he’s probably in bed right now. “how was your day, baby?”

“good,” you respond briskly, a soft scowl appearing on your face. suguru, being as observant as he is, picks up on the subtle change in your tone, but he doesn’t say anything. “satoru and i had a really good day. how was yours?”

suguru pauses before answering. “i missed you.”

“then come home, sugu,” you plead, even though you know that there’s no way he’ll be back in time. but it’s worth a try, right?

“you know i can’t,” suguru murmurs, exhaling softly. “no way can i get a flight back this late and make it back by tomorrow morning. i—”

“then get a sleigh!” you huff indignantly, unable to resist smiling when you hear suguru laugh. “please, sugu? christmas won’t be christmas without you.”

“just spend it with satoru,” suguru mutters under his breath, and that’s when you realize that your efforts haven’t entirely been in vain. he’s obviously sour that you spent the whole day with his best friend instead of him, and a small spark of hope starts to fester in your heart. 

“maybe i will,” you reply coyly, and you can hear your own smile in your voice—and you’re sure that suguru can hear it too. “anyways, i’m a little tired. good night, baby.”

“night.”

————

the next day, you host a party in your otherwise empty house—after all, it’s christmas, and it’d be rather depressing for you to spend it alone. so you invite satoru, satoru’s friends, and their friends, and so on. word gets around fast, and people show up in droves.

which is why you don’t notice when suguru himself slips in through the back door.

you’re giggling with satoru and his stoic friend kento when they both stop laughing, and you look up at them, confused. “what is it?” you ask, sipping the sweet liquid in your glass with a smile.

“suguru?” satoru asks, lips tugging themselves into a wide smile. “guess you didn’t wanna spend christmas alone, yeah?”

you turn around, half-expecting satoru to be joking. but to your surprise, your dark-haired boyfriend stands in front of you, smiling dryly. you stare at him for a solid two seconds, certain that you’re hallucinating. “sugu? but i thought—”

“thought you could mess around with my best friend?” suguru muses, arching one of his eyebrows. his suit’s a little wrinkled, and his hair’s more disheveled than normal, but somehow, he seems more alert than ever. suguru’s amber eyes go from yours to satoru’s wide blue ones, and satoru shrinks away from him with a nervous smile.

“i’m gonna go,” kento says offhandedly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving you, satoru, and suguru alone in the living room. 

“hey, bro, it was her idea!” satoru says instantly, raising his hands as if he’s a burglar in front of the police. you turn to him in disbelief, scoffing indignantly at his pitiful attempt to get out of trouble.

“no, it was your idea!” you insist, jabbing your finger at satoru. he gasps dramatically and pretends to faint, to which you roll your eyes good-naturedly. you turn back to suguru, rounding your eyes in an attempt to gain his favor. “i swear, sugu, this was all satoru’s idea!”

“you liar,” satoru grumbles, crossing his arms and huffing childishly. you turn and glare at him, and coupled with suguru’s unimpressed look, it’s enough to scare satoru off. 

and now it’s just you and suguru, alone in your mint-scented living room. christmas pop plays in the background from another room, and maybe it’s just the dim lighting but you swear you can see suguru’s face go a shade redder than before.

“hey,” you mumble, averting your eyes.

“hey,” suguru replies. he smiles, and just like that, all his features soften. “don’t you want to know how i got here so fast?” he drawls, reaching out and brushing something off your shoulder. his fingers trail down from your shoulder to your collarbone, which is all the more prominent thanks to the dress you’re wearing. incidentally, it’s the same dress you had sent suguru a picture of yesterday—maybe that’s why he can’t take his eyes off you.

“yeah, how did you get here so fast?” you ask curiously, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace your figure down to your waist. suguru’s eyes go from your dress to your face, and he grins.

“well, i had to leave right before my meeting started and bribe some passengers with a shit-ton of money for their seats,” suguru starts, taking you by the hand and leading you to your shared room. “and believe me, it was a lot of money. and most people still said no, ‘cause they want to be with their families for the holidays.”

he makes a face as he pushes open the door, and stops in his tracks. your face grows warm as you realize that you had set up your room for him too—it’s illuminated with soft candlelight, the linen sheets are changed, and you—oh, you look perfect in suguru’s eyes. it takes a great deal of his willpower to stop himself from fucking you right there and then.

“oh, yeah, it was a lot of money,” suguru continues, smiling down at you coyly. “between the deal i just fucked up and the ridiculous amount of bribes i had to make, i think you owe me.”

suguru makes his way over to your bed and sits, spreading his legs and showing off his growing erection. you grin, following him and sitting in his lap. “did you miss me, sugu?”

“damn right i did.”

and barely a minute or two later, he’s got you face-down ass-up in the sheets, a calloused hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your increasing moans. “shh, wouldn’t want our guests to hear ya,” suguru whispers, breath hot against the side of your face.

you squirm underneath him, mind hazy from the feeling of his dick buried in you for the first time in.. how long? does it matter? “s-sugu, please fuck me,” you mumble, pretending not to notice the way he hasn’t bothered doing anything to you besides use you as his personal cockwarmer.

in the short time he’s been inside you, suguru’s barely moved—and fuck, he enjoys watching you squirm around and beg him to do more than just.. nothing.

“sugu, plea—”

he cuts you off with a slap to your ass, relishing the lewd whine that slips out of your lips in reply. “fuck, you thought y’could get me back here by fuckin’ with my best friend?” suguru cooes, shifting his hips. 

“we didn’t—”

“yeah, no shit, baby,” suguru interrupts dryly. “otherwise this’d be a lot worse for you—and for him.”

suguru’s dark eyes flit over to where the dress you bought lies, discarded somewhere in the corner of your room. he grins and uses his hand to turn your head, gesturing at the fabric. “and i bet he was the one who gave you the idea to do whatever the fuck that was,” suguru drawls, clicking his tongue. “tell me, whose idea was it to have him send me that pic? yours, or his?”

when you don’t reply, suguru sighs dramatically and grabs your hair, pulling your head up enough for him to lean down and whisper in your ear, “this’ll be a lot easier for you if you just answer—the—question,” suguru breathes, punctuating each word with another slap to your ass.

“it wasn’t m-mine!” you cry, looking up at suguru with shiny, rounded doe eyes. “i just wanted to—”

suguru cuts you off by pulling out of your drenched cunt just enough to allow him enough space to go back in, and his thrust is harsh and hits all the right places inside of you. your walls clench around him, and shit, suguru realizes that he missed fucking you like this more than anything else in the world.

“fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he hisses, shifting his hips again to allow himself more space to move. “did ya not touch yourself at all while i was gone?”

“n-no,” you stutter, swallowing another pornographic sound from escaping your lips. “i waited for you, sugu,” you gasp, feeling him hit spots you haven’t felt throb in a painfully long time. and fuck, you’re so out of practice that affer just a few thrusts, you’re mewling all over his cock and whining about how you’re close to cumming.

your vision gets speckled with spots of white as thoughts of suguru take up every corner of your mind, even as he teases you for getting so close so fast. but it’s not your fault you’re about to cum faster than you’ve ever done—you’ve tried fucking yourself with your fingers on times when suguru was out for work, but he’s spoiled you with his dick more than you can imagine.

and that’s why you cum all over his cock in what has to be a record-breaking time, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you mumble indecipherable words.

“aw, look at you,” suguru murmurs, stroking your hair as you tremble underneath him. even though it’s unbearably cold outside, it feels scorching hot in here—but maybe that’s because of both of your heaving chests in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“‘m sorry, sugu,” you mumble hazily, and suguru chuckles in response.

“it’s alright, baby,” he responds lightly. “y’know i like fucking your bratty cunt dumb every once in a while, heh.”

you two lie there, basking in each other’s presence for a little while longer before the bedroom door creaks open. and to your horror, satoru stands there, seemingly bored by the whole scene.

“can you two keep it down?” satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face. “we’re trying to have a karaoke competition, but you guys keep going agh—”

suguru hurls a pillow at satoru, cutting off his mocking moan. “you’re next, asshole,” suguru grumbles, getting off of you and covering you with the sheets.

“you’re gonna fuck me next? wow, what happened to hi, hel— oww, okay, i’m going, i’m going!”

[lalunanymph]

TOAST TO CLICHES IN A DARK PAST

not even another man's ring on your finger can stop sylus from taking what's rightfully his

warnings: fem!reader, ex-boyfriend sylus, toxic!sylus, mean!sylus, reader is engaged 🤭, cheating, oral s/ex, unprotected s/ex, collars, possessiveness, blank and ageless blogs dni

dawn says: i wrote this with one hand can you tell.... ALSO surprise at the end wbjwhjdkf ;)

“Hey, it’s me.” You can almost picture the scowl on his perfect features. “Let me in.” If patience was a virtue, waiting for another moment must be his vice.

Another sharp rap on the door shatters your peaceful evening. 

“Y/N, I’m here for my things. Open the door.” 

You decide it’s either now or never to get this over with him. 

Standing from the couch, you muster the scariest scowl you can plaster on and answer the door. “I heard you for the first time.” 

Right at your threshold, a 6 feet 2 menace stands clad in his sweatpants and compression black shirt, biker jacket hanging from his tall frame, those vermillion eyes raking up and down your figure, suddenly making you feel too self-conscious. 

You’re in a pair of gray shorts and a tank top, nothing too fancy or scandalous, yet there’s a pressing heat behind his gaze which makes your skin flush like you’re presenting yourself before him in a risque piece of lingerie.

Your mouth curls around his name like it's a cud you can’t wait to spit out. “Sylus.”

He tips his head forward. “Y/N.”

The both of you don’t say a word, and you feel much too exposed. Anyone could pass by and see you speaking to him. The ring on your finger is heavy, and you subconsciously hide it behind your back, not wanting him to see it and comment.

“Nice rock.” Too late. Your scowl deepens and you huff a sigh. 

“You said you forgot your insurance file? That’s not like you.” The sneer that carves your face is nothing in comparison to his smirk.

“I’m here for it and nothing else,” he clarifies, sweeping his gaze over you as he sweeps past you. “Don’t you hope for anything else.”

“Wh—hey,” you trail after him, spluttering indignantly. It’s just like your ex-boyfriend to walk in and claim the space as his own; large build and larger than life personality swallowing all the air in your lungs and in this room. 

He plants his hands on his hips, surveying the newly decorated living room with cool distaste. “Looks like your plan to scrub me clean from your life worked, sweetie,” the nickname drips from his lips with condescension. “It’s so… clinical.”

He’s mocking you. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your hands clench to fists by your side.

“We love the combination of gray and white,” you say past gritted teeth. “The red-black abomination you had going on was an absolute eyesore.”

“Oh,” he flickers his gaze back to you, completely disinterested. “I see. I guess you didn’t just get engaged to some random schmuck to get back at me.”

The ring around your finger is heavy enough, tempting you to smash it through his mouth. You scoff. 

“You’ve never changed, Sylus. Always mean—always a loser.”

With a single word, you find yourself pushed against the wall, your ex towering over you. The smell of his rich leather and spiced cologne swims in your head, driving you dizzy. Heat engulfs you as his arms come up on either side of your head.

“You know how this works, sweetie,” his smooth, rich tone bathes you in that blessed timber, making a shiver crawl up your spine. “We fight, we break up. You text me, I come over and—”

He’s much too close. Too overwhelming. 

Sylus waits for you to finish his sentence.

“Come on now, kitten,” he purrs. “What is it we do whenever you come crawling back to me?” 

You refuse to answer him, despite the ache spreading right at your core. You huff and turn your face to the side, finding refuge from those searing darkened eyes.

“You can’t do this to me anymore, Sylus. I feel nothing for you.”

“Nothing, huh?” If there’s one thing your ex loves more than this toxic rollercoaster you want no part of anymore, it’s the challenge of getting you back on it. 

“I’m engaged,” you emphasize, a sinking realization of this mistake washing over you. You should’ve never allowed him to come back. 

“This flimsy thing?” He plucks your left hand from your side, a sneer curling on his mouth. “Two weeks. You thought you could replace me in just two weeks?”

“We were friends—”

“He can’t treat you like me.” With the bold declaration, Sylus grows more audacious. He bends his head forward, eyes close and chest rising—inhaling your sugary vanilla body wash straight from your neck. “Can’t put you in your place like I do, sweetie.”

Your eyes involuntarily flutter shut and Sylus takes this chance to pounce on your jugular. “Where’s my insurance file, sweetie? Do you know?”

Vaguely, you recall seeing it in your bedroom. “It’s in ou—my room.”

Sylus doesn’t comment on the slip up, corners of his lips twitching. “Well? What’re you waiting for? Go get it for me, sweetie.”

Your nostrils flare, anger coursing through you. Does this guy think you’re his maid or something? 

“Go get it yourself.”

With Sylus, everything is a game. A struggle for power. He snorts and turns his gaze to the expensive Rolex on his wrist. “When does he get off?” Your ex’s sneer deepens. 

Knowing who he’s talking about, you match his energy with an eye roll. “In a few hours—”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” 

Throughout this little bantering session, Sylus never once lost his cool; calm and teasing like the asshole he usually is. This time a flash of anger sears through his tone and you falter, the repressed heat inside you lifting its head to scent the sticky sweet danger clinging in the air.

Warning, the nerves in your body scream. Stay alert.

You shut the voice down, crossing your arms. “Or, what?” You try to mimic him with one brow raised. “What’re you going to do to me?” 

Sylus doesn’t immediately react. That’s why he’s a risk to deal with—one wrong move and you could go falling back into the wolf’s den. He bides his time, staring at the silver rings adorning his slender fingers, knuckles split and bruised from his love of violence in the ring.

“The sooner you get the file for me, the faster I will get out of your life,” he smoothly interjects. “Unless… you want me?” 

He stands up lightning fast, cornering you again with his staggering presence, making you take one step back. 

You touch your throat on instinct, and Sylus chuckles.

“What? Cat got your tongue, kitten?” The use of your favorite nickname sends a wave of heat rising inside of you, the flush warm and demanding on your cheeks. Sylus doesn’t reach out to touch you, but he doesn’t need to if he wants to turn you on. 

One look. A careless brush against the back of your thigh and you’re aching all over.

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” A drop of sympathy colors the waters of his deception, and your shoulders loose their stiff edges, walls coming down a fraction. “No one can do those things to you… make you feel like that…”

He’s speaking in riddles and it’s successfully scrambling your mind.

“Sylus—”

“Turn around.” 

You inadvertently raise the stakes by shaking your head.

“What did you do, kitten?” His voice is smooth, but underneath, there’s a zing of livid distaste. Sylus never likes it when you defy him.

His jaw clenches, but he’s focused on the long game. Sylus hums. “Come on. We shouldn’t waste anymore time. Take me to your bedroom.”

The shivers wrack you tenfold and it’s borderline criminal to bring your ex back into the room where you laid with and fucked your fiance. Electricity crackles in the empty spaces, and you try your best to ignore the current sparking on your tongue. 

“Check under the bed,” Sylus suggests, doing nothing but stand by the wall, arms folded. Expecting you to pull the most weight.

You pause, sending him a look of indignation. “Why’re you ordering me around? You do it.”

Instead of adopting a look of contrition or remembering his manners like any normal person would, your psychopath of an ex shakes his head. He starts to shrug off his jacket; enjoys how wide your eyes become when he removes his shirt and tosses it to the ground.

“Sy—” you hiss, but he interrupts you with a raised brow. 

You turn mute, bunching your fingers together in front of you, a curious part of you wondering what he’ll do next—the depths of depravity he will drag you back into. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” He steps closer and closer, pushing you to the edge of the bed where you have nowhere to escape.

“I know you, sweetie. I can sense when you’re excited. I own you. You want this—you want me.” You drop your gaze, suddenly afraid of him looking into your eyes. Sylus tastes of your impending surrender right on the tip of his tongue. Call him a genius or a madman, but nobody can call him ignorant to his girl’s needs.

“I can give you what you want. What you’re craving for.” It’s too much—his presence, his voice, this smoldering heat. You feel like you’re going to combust. 

Without thinking straight, you press your hands flat on his pecs, trying to push him away, but all it does is make him grab your wrists, locking you in place.

“Don’t,” he warns, velvety smooth with his threats. Your white-haired devil of an ex smirks at your wide eyes, and chuckles. 

“Come on, sweetie,” he leans in closer, gathers both your hands in one of his own and tilts your head up to face him. “Look at me—look at me. Come on. Give me a kiss.”

He coaxes you with a gentle nudge, but it’s enough to send a battering ram through your defenses. The tension—so thick that you can cut it with a knife—comes to a jolting deadend and you have no choice but to give in. 

You fold, parting your lips and Sylus goes in straight for the kill.

Hot kisses devour your soft moans, sending shudders all over your skin as goosebumps erupt everywhere; Sylus kisses you with bruising accuracy, hell bent on getting his revenge. 

No one dares to leave him unless he declares it, and you’ve committed the biggest sin out there by throwing away his love. 

He pries your lips apart, plundering his tongue to tap and caress the roof of your mouth, running the tip over your teeth and twining messily with your own tongue; reducing you to sporadic moans and twitches. Encased in his arms, you feel small and helpless, a prey who has fallen right into her beloved predator’s jaws.

“Come here, sweetie.” Sylus plops himself on the edge of the bed, and brings you right onto his lap. You’re woozy and lightheaded when he starts to paw at your shorts, dragging it down—exposing the sweet white cotton hiding his favorite pussy.

Sylus tugs your panties down unceremoniously, and you barely have time to steel yourself when he murmurs, “How dare you say no to me?” 

A heavy hand lands right on your right cheek, jolting you forward. Your cry is part ecstasy, part pain.

It rebounds around the room, echoing your betrayal when he sends another hard spank on your left cheek, following it up with the right one; white heat engulfs you all over and your ass is on fire. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “See, sweetie? You’re wet. You’re leaking alllll over my thigh.” He drags the words and your humiliation out, plunging two thick fingers and dragging them through your folds. Sylus dangles his drenched fingers right in front of you and chuckles.

Something hard pokes your lower belly when he shifts you into a seating position, tilting your face up. The look of hunger he wears unhinges the last of your restraints and this time, you’re the one who tugs him by his hair, smashing your mouth hungrily to his.

The wet smacks and muffled groans of lips on lips. Moans. Bodies on fire. You’re rubbing yourself all over him.

Get on your knees, he orders feverishly, grabbing your hair and pushing you down in between his legs. Suck my cock. Go on, kitten. Suck my cock and make me feel good—you know you want to.

You obey him—of course you do. 

You can never forget the taste of him when he hits your tongue, like musk and man, saturating flavor making your eyes roll back in your head. The dopamine kicks in and Sylus swears he sees little pink hearts right in your eyes when you take him down your entire throat. 

Who is more insane—the psycho, or the one who dares to love him? 

You’ve always been a little loose in the head, but this definitely takes the cake. 

How you’re willing to risk everything—your stable life, your safe home, your fiance’s love—all for a man who plays with you like you’re his favorite toy. 

For a man who will never tell you he loves you or wants to marry you. 

Like he’s reading your thoughts, Sylus gives a strained chuckle. 

“Stop thinking about him. Just focus on me.” 

His abs undulate under your palms, and he eyes the twinkling ring on your finger with distaste. 

One way or another, he’s going to get you to remove it for him someday. 

Until then, he knows the perfect counterpart to that asshole's claim on you.

“Stop.” He pulls you from his throbbing cock, a smidge of pride staining his ego when he sees your swollen lips and the ravenous look in your eye. “Go and get your collar, sweetie.” 

It’s a risk to bring up the one item you didn’t toss into his box of belongings. But, his gamble comes back as a win when your eyes sharpen with want.

“Yeah,” he feeds off your reactions, an incubus desperate for your light. “Yeah, you still have it, don’t you, kitten?” 

The answer is painfully obvious on your face. 

“Why don’t you go and grab it?”

You move with uncertainty, but this time, Sylus allows it. He lets you feel through your emotions, knows the erotic pulse of submission must be tearing you into shreds—warring with your desire to stay faithful to some poor cuck. 

Sylus knows all this because he knows you; knows what you love, what you hate. How you taste at different times of the day. Your favorite flowers, fast food order, your preferred poison on the weekend. The cadences of your breath when you fall asleep in his arms. What your shampoo smells like when it lingers on his sheets.

He is, after all, the best owner you could ask for.

And you’re still obviously, undoubtedly, and painfully in love with him.

Your throat bobs with a hard swallow, but you don’t defy him. He swats your ass with a cheeky spank when you stand and shuffle out of the room.

“Atta girl,” he praises once you come back with your collar in hand. It’s a little dusty, but the leather is still supple. 

Sylus runs his fingers over it, flickering his gaze to you. 

You’re kneeling right between his thighs, head bent, hair gathered in one hand to expose the back of your neck. Waiting for him to reclaim you. 

Sylus doesn’t take such submission lightly.

This collar—proof of his quiet yet powerful devotion and fondness for you—is more of a commitment than that stupid band around your finger could ever be.

It’s his promise to always look out for you. Care for you. Protect you.

Love you.

Though the words don’t dislodge from the grasps of his ego, Sylus has and always will love you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, dragging one finger down the nape of your neck. Your shudder makes an unwilling smile curve on his lips, and he snaps the leather collar around your throat, giving it a few good tugs to see how tight it is.

You turn and stretch towards him, planting a soft kiss on his lips as gratitude—a muscle reflex for the many times he’s collared you. 

Sylus deepens the kiss, running his hands through your hair and grabbing a fistful of it, directing you back towards his throbbing, leaky cock.

You lick at a clear bead of precum slipping down, flatten your tongue to run it over your favorite prominent vein. Sylus leans back against his forearms, watching his ex-lover pleasure him on another man’s bed. 

The band around his self-control is slipping, and he can’t hold back a low, drawn out groan when you suckle on the flushed, mushroom tip.

“That’s it,” he grunts, low and commanding. Such a pretty girl you are—make me feel good, kitten. You’re doing so, so well. 

His voice is an aphrodisiac in itself, making you flush hotly. Your core throbs with neglect as you pay full attention to sucking him off, putting his pleasure above yours.

Sylus isn’t stingy with his praises or affections: caressing your hair, patting your cheek, fingering your collar when you get more worked up over sucking him off.

You’re so messy it hurts. 

Drool dripping from the corners of your swollen lips. Precum smeared all over your cheeks. Eyes low and lustful—his personal wet dream came to life.

You’re halfway bobbing your head up and down his slick shaft when he stops you, gestures for you to come back up for air.

In a swift movement, he has you under him, legs tightly wound around his narrow waist; forearms roped with muscles on either side of your head. 

His red eyes bore into yours, watching your reactions with heated attention.

Your gasp as he rips your tank top off, kissing and suckling your plush tits and nibbling on your sensitive nipples until you feel positively ripe for the picking. 

He’s tempted to leave a mark on your neck, but you know him well enough too, and shake your head with a cute little teary, “N-no. Don’t.”

Sylus will let it slide—just this once. 

The warm expanse of your bare skin opens under his palms like the bright evening sky outside. 

He savors your hitched gasp that melts into a sultry groan once he stretches you out with his girthy tip. Another inch, another cry. 

Sylus falls right into your seduction and embrace, bottoming right to the hilt; his hips clip with yours, lips mere inches from your parted ones.

He devours you with hot, open mouth kisses. From your pouty lower lip to your curved cupid’s bow, he traces your mouth to memory with his own. You taste like home, he wants to tell you, but doesn’t. He’s never had a home to compare you to. 

Sylus the orphan. The vagabond. The corrupt. 

Molded deep in your body, he supposes this is the closest to a home he has.

Your fingers twine with his above your head, another hand tangled right in his frosty white hair. 

Languid rolls of his hips. Your own try to keep up—meeting him in the middle.

Say you’re mine, he growls. Say it, kitten. Say it and I’ll make you feel so good.

“Yours,” you hiccup, unable to peel your eyes off of him. 

I’m yours, Sylus. 

His thrusts send shocks of pleasure through your body, hitting the sensitive spots inside of you and making you flinch like he’s touching an open wound.

Over and over again. His mouth grazes yours. You don’t hesitate to swallow his kisses. 

You’re clinging to me like a vine, kitten. He nuzzles your hair, your neck. Smearing his lips all over your face.

His collar jingles around your neck, muffled metallic clicks mingling with the sloppy sounds of two bodies meeting again like the sea to the shore.

Your body runs hot, flushing and going taut under his own sturdy one. 

Unfurling like a flower, your release is about to wash over you like a crashing wave. He talks you through it, going yes baby come for me come for your owner I love you I owe you you’re mine forever come back to me I can make you so happy, sweetie.

You’re shuddering like someone’s run a voltage through you, holding onto him as tears gather in the corner of your eyes.

No, stop this—you can still stop this! Your mind screams but your body doesn’t listen.

Heat sparks at your fingertips, your world going hot white. 

His name tumbles from your lips, your body cramping and pulsing out his claim over you in shaking tremors; knowing exactly who it belongs to.

Fragments of your mind fall around this soft bed, and he gathers you into the tight seam of his embrace. His warmth comes next, filling you up, the walls shaking in your periphery. 

That’s it, kitten. He’s quivering, too, you notice, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your sweaty forehead. You belong to me.

He switches to his back, and you’re sprawled across his chest, breathing heavily. 

Sylus holds you like this for a long time until your rapid heartbeat steadies to the rhythm of his breath. He says nothing and you wonder what plagues his mind.

Though quiet and pondering, his fingers run up and down the curve of your spine, drawing random patterns.

The quiet and calm this lull brings could make you drift off, if it wasn’t for the fact that your fiance would be back anytime soon.

As if he reads your mind, Sylus helps you unsnap your collar, pushing the leather circlet into your hands. He doesn’t meet your gaze while he cleans you up, dressing you again to decency. 

His silence follows from the bedroom to the front door before he exhales a laugh, breaking the melancholic spell of this mistake.

“I forgot to take my file.”

It’s a thinly veiled excuse; another loophole presenting itself as a casual observation.

Those red eyes are soft when you meet them, and if you look closely, you might see them wavering slightly with hope. 

You curl your hand over the door handle, wondering if he can tell just how badly you’re trying not to tremble when you say:

“Come back tomorrow for it.”

Sylus’ broad shoulders relax and his smile is brittle with hope.

He doesn’t kiss you ‘goodbye’ though you can tell he’s thinking about it when he flickers those vermillion orbs to your mouth.

When he leaves—bike roaring down the driveway and out of your life again—you lean against the closed door, bucking into the sadness building inside of you like an explosion waiting to happen. 

Tears chase down your face, the ring on your left hand burning against your skin as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your wails.

You don’t know what strength possesses you but you stumble to the couch, curling yourself on the plush cushions as you try to erase how sweet his lips tasted on yours. 

Your collar was quickly chucked under the bed, though you can feel its siren call demanding for more.

Demanding for him.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying, coming back to your senses once you hear the door swinging open. 

The familiar footsteps which once gave you pure joy fills you with dread when he walks into the foyer, removing his coat and scarf to hang it up. His movements are methodical—clinical, as Sylus once said. 

That name sparks a wave of pain through your soul. You can't think of him—not right now.

You blink the tears away though it’s for naught when they wouldn’t stop welling in your puffy eyes.

Your fiance sighs deeply and you’re reminded of how stressed he’s been lately; saving lives and working late night shifts. 

He hums under his breath as he rounds the corner, taken aback by your intense stare. 

He breaks out into a smile which falls when he sees the watery look in your eyes; your runny nose and swollen lips.

“Darling?” Those emerald eyes waver when he notices your trembling lower lip. “Did something happen—?”

His name burns through your lips like it’s a forbidden curse because how dare you evoke him when you were just chanting some other man’s name a few hours ago?

“Zayne… I have to tell you something…”

— please don't ask for part 2 there won't be one lol reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <333

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, translate, take elements of my story and claim it for your own across other sites.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟑]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.6k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, character death and graphic descriptions of death, mentions of vomit

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this one is... a lot. take heed of the warnings/let me know if there's something i forgot to tag! i might've missed some errors because it's late so i will fix in the morning, otherwise please enjoy! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢

When the meadows grow full and lush, Kinich awaits your reappearance.

The winter had been long—with his crops iced over, he’d had to rely on hunting to survive. His mother’s absence had taken a heavy toll on his family (though he uses the word loosely), and his father somehow finds more time to drink his life away. Now the sole homemaker, Kinich finds himself as his father’s newfound punching bag as well.

He discovers that he has a talent for patching wounds and bruises.

Some days, the man awakens in the dead of night, freshly sober—Kinich can hear him crying his mother’s name in the dark. He doesn’t know whether to take that as regret, or simply loneliness.

They don’t talk. They never really did, but the silence grows quickly, curling and weaving and winding like vines through the house, until Kinich can feel it wrapping his throat shut. Days and weeks go by without him talking to anyone at all.

Still, he moves on.

The ice finally melts, and he welcomes the sight of animals returning from hibernation, despite how they nip at his garden. New life sprouts from the ground, and it’s only a matter of time before you appear in the forest again as well.

This time, you’re touting a burlap bag of Quenepa Berries, and you offer him one as he approaches.

“They’re sweeter at this time of year,” you comment, before popping one of the fruits into your mouth. He accepts and does the same—this batch is fattened and sweet, he thinks as the juice dribbles down his chin. You must have an eye for a good harvest.

“You came back,” is all he replies, as a greeting.

An incredulous expression crosses your face, almost judgmental—you hold the bag of berries away from him as teasing punishment. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He reaches over you, quick as a fox, catching one of the fruits in his fingers. 

“Don’t know.”

There’s no way to tell you about his mother’s disappearance, at least not one that he’s confident about. After all, he feels there’s no logic in informing you anyway—there’s no solution that you could potentially offer, and it’s not as though it affects you. But it’s the thought of that, and the lasting image of her footsteps, that had instilled this fear within him.

The fear that you would never return.

But you’re here, he soothes himself, another berry in your outstretched palm. He takes it, just as your voice rings out again.

“So, do your parents not like girls?”

The skin of the fruit catches in his throat at your question, and he lets out a series of wet coughs—you pat his back, eyes wide with concern. It takes a few moments for him to return to his senses.

“What are you talking about?” he splutters, uncharacteristically flustered.

You don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in picking through your bag—you prefer the lightest blue berries, the ones that are still slightly unripe. Perhaps you enjoy the tartness they offer.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “It just seems like you don’t want your parents to see me.”

And there’s no easy way to explain his situation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he hums, watching the birds soar by overhead. His heart vaguely tugs with jealousy at the sight of them.

“It’s not that. My parents just…don’t like people hanging around our house. That’s why we moved out of the village.”

Not a total lie, he reasons—the financial issues were the root cause, but his father had also grown tired of neighbors attempting to intervene in his parents’ endless disputes. It had given him hope, for a time, that someone might be able to remedy the situation. 

But that hope was quickly snuffed out.

“Makes sense,” you say, tracing shapes in the dirt with your foot. You draw a heart, a smiley face, and then something that looks like a defective Yumkasaurus. “Your dad is the mean one, right?”

You’re still not quite educated on social faux-pas at your age, and Kinich almost chokes again.

“What?”

Something rustles in the bushes nearby—an animal scared away by the sudden loudness of his voice.

“He always used to yell at me when I’d come around to leave you things,” you explain, overwhelmingly casual. “Smelled like that stuff that us kids aren’t allowed to go near in the market.”

Kinich vaguely remembers hearing his parents argue about something like that, but all the fighting tends to blur together after a time. He’s not sure how to reply to that, or what you might think if he did.

So he doesn’t.

He asks you about your winter instead, a topic change that you welcome eagerly. You tell him about the village, the white-topped roofs and the way the Yumkasauri would redden and sneeze, whelps hiding in their mother’s wings. You tell him about how you tried ice skating on the frozen river, recounting how many times you fell flat on your face. The thought makes him smile faintly.

He’s almost surprised by how enthusiastic you are about it—you’d told him before about your parents’ death in the cold season. He wonders how you seem to move past it all.

You turn your attention back to him, curious. “What about you? What happened during your winter?”

There’s a lot he could say, but none of it feels right, every word sticking to his tongue, stubborn. 

“The winter felt really long,” he finally says, mostly to himself, chewing thoughtfully.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “It did. But it’s not so bad, I think.”

He hums. “Really?”

You shrug. “Spring always comes again anyway.”

/

On Kinich’s seventh birthday, you knock at his door in the evening.

The November air is crisp, but not yet chilling. After all, the nation of Pyro tends to run warm until the very depths of winter. It’s for that reason that the fireplace still lies darkened and empty, and that the kitchen window is still open a crack.

The sound shocks him at first—it’s been a long time since anyone has visited at all, so much so that the dull thump is unfamiliar. Wilder animals tend to come out when the sun sets, so he tries to finish up his farming and hunting beforehand—at this time, he’s usually preparing some sort of meal for the next day.

He glances at the source of the noise, then at his father, slumped over the kitchen table, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man will likely be asleep until the early morning anyway.

So Kinich pads to the door, pulling it open just a crack, and it’s your eye that peers back at him, curious.

Another inch, and then the rest of you is revealed to him—you’re holding a neatly wrapped box in your hands, an innocent smile spread across your lips.

His first words come out in a hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

He thinks he’s been quite clear about your need to return to the village by this time, for many reasons. It’s growing dark, a time where animals and humans alike grow more dangerous, and his father tends to be home. The man has a talent of putting Kinich in the worst moods, and he’d rather not spread that to you.

“It’s your birthday,” you greet, as an explanation, shrugging like it’s all so obvious. Kinich tilts his head.

“So?”

“So, we’re celebrating! I spent the whole day baking this cake with Chief Wayna’s help.”

Kinich steps outside, quietly letting the door shut behind him. The sunset sky is burning away at this time, pinks and reds fading into black and blue. The stars will be out soon. 

“It’s nighttime,” he says, crossing his arms.

You nod vigorously, undeterred. “Yup! All so you can see the candles better. It looks so much cooler when it’s dark.”

It’s a ridiculous statement to someone like him, and Kinich is once again reminded how different the two of you are. His sense of logic doesn’t seem to align with your enduring enthusiasm. Still, he likes the fire that you have about you, and has no interest in snuffing it out, so he merely sighs and leads you away from the front door.

Once you’re a bit away, the house still in view, he looks to you again.

“So, what is it about candles?”

Without a reply, you turn away from him, fiddling with various things—he hears a match being lit, sees the faint light reflect from behind you—and then you’re facing him again, proudly holding out the cake.

There’s seven brightly colored candles sticking out from the top. The candlelight illuminates your face with a soft glow, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“It looks good, right?”

Kinich peers down at the treat—it does look good, with the expensive kind of frosting that he used to look at longingly in the market. He hasn’t had something this sweet, this luxurious, in a long time, or maybe ever. When he glances back up, you’re staring up at him expectantly—he shrinks back from the pressure.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling self-conscious. You point to the candles.

“You have to blow it out.”

Vaguely, he thinks back on when he used to live in the village. He’s seen people hold birthday parties before (though he can’t say he’d ever been invited), but he’s not sure he’s heard of this tradition. Birthday celebrations weren’t something his family could ever afford anyway, or maybe they just didn’t care to.

Kinich realizes he doesn’t even know when his parents’ birthdays are.

But you’re still watching him, so he pushes that thought aside. Instead, he leans over and gently blows out the candles in three small puffs of breath.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” You cheer, tilting the cake toward him. “I hope you made a wish!”

You’d forgotten to mention that before he blew out the candles, he thinks to himself, but he’s in no position to argue with your good will anyway. So he nods, silently making a wish after the fact.

“Alright, the best part is eating it,” you whisper conspiratorially, like you’re sharing a life-shattering secret. “And Elder Leik says it’s bad to have sugar before bed, but I think it’s okay just this once—”

“Kinich!”

That voice—

His heart freezes in his chest. Your face morphs in confusion, and then he’s grasping at your arm and yanking, hiding you behind him—you’re not much smaller than him, though, so it’s a futile effort. At the force, the cake slips out of your grip, smashing uselessly into the grass.

Kinich has half a mind to apologize, but he can’t—instead, he holds you tighter.

“Kinich?” A hoarse voice echoes in the dark. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I’m here. I was just taking a walk,” he replies. His voice shakes at the edges of each syllable—he hopes his father doesn’t notice. 

Something crunches in the distance; it’s the sound of grass underfoot. His father is coming this way, Kinich realizes in a panic. He glances back to your fearful eyes, clutching at the back of his thin t-shirt, and his chest burns with the desire to protect.

It’s too dim to see the man until he’s a few feet in front of you—he’s dressed in a tattered shirt and loose pants, feet dragging through the grass. His eyes narrow when he gets close enough, brows knitting together.

His gaze zeroes in on you, venomous. “It’s you again.”

The collar of Kinich’s shirt grows taut against his throat as you pull against him, afraid. He squeezes at your arm once, a comfort.

“You damn orphans, got nothing better to do? Just fucking around on my property, I should throw you off this goddamn cliff! Not like you got anyone to miss you.”

Kinich grits his teeth. “Leave her alone.”

His father laughs, a grating sound like nails on a chalkboard, then belches. The smell of cheap alcohol filters through the air, even from a distance.

“Go do something useful then. Too many useless people in this world, ha! Just like your damn mother.”

The mention makes the blood ice over in Kinich’s veins, a sharp frost crawling up his spine. Your grip loosens just a hair, likely in confusion, but the detail barely reaches his mind.

“You know where she is?”

The image of his mother’s footsteps in the newly fallen snow had never left his mind—he sees it in his nightmares, trapped and crawling in an endless frozen landscape, alone. He thinks of her when he farms, when he weaves, when he’s forced to eat another Grainfruit.

He thinks of her always, maybe, in the back of his mind.

And his father does too, maybe, based on the way his whole body seems to tighten with anger at the question. He doesn’t reply, at least not verbally.

You watch, horrified. Even as his father’s eyes glow with rage, even as he drunkenly hobbles toward you both, hands outstretched.

(Kinich blankly notes that they form the shape of his own neck.)

The man isn’t too coordinated, especially with the alcohol coursing through his veins—he stumbles a few times on the way, the grass seeming to curl around his ankles, slowing him down. Perhaps it’s the land’s way of protecting him, Kinich thinks. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you behind him. “Come on!”

Kinich runs, wind whipping at his face, the way he always does when his father gets this way. He takes you through the backyard, toward the forest, where his father might lose sight of you both and give up the chase. He knows the paths there and knows them well—the shadows of the trees will protect you both.

But the man is picking up speed behind you, roaring about what he’ll do once he catches you.

“Kinich,” you wheeze. You’d already been semi-exhausted by your trek here, and certainly not expecting a sprint like this.

“I know,” he pants back. “Just a little more.”

You’re trying your hardest, he knows.

But he’s faster than you, and you stumble, lagging behind.

“Kinich!”

His father lunges, fingers barely grasping at the leg of your pants. A shriek erupts from your throat as you tumble to the ground in a twisted pile, and Kinich cries out with you, just as the cliff seems to rumble beneath his feet. 

It happens in slow motion. 

Kinich’s father meets his son’s gaze, enraged, then afraid. Terrified, just as he feels his legs dangle over the edge of the cliff, just as the weight of your smaller body pushes his torso over. Shocked, just as the rest of you starts to come down with him. 

Your screams echo off the darkened mountain. 

Kinich weighs his options—it doesn’t take long—and then leaps forward. His chest smacks painfully into the dirt, but he manages to grab your wrist just as you slip down the cliff.

“Kinich!” 

His father is screaming his name, and so are you, pleading, begging for his help. And you’re still in his grasp, but you’re slipping, and his father is reaching for him, and if he could just grab him with his other hand, he could maybe pull you both up, but—

Kinich’s gaze meets your tear-filled eyes.

So he grits his teeth, clawing at the dirt, and with his other hand, he grabs—

You.

He doesn’t have time to catch his father’s expression—he doesn’t think he’d want to see it anyway—before he’s hauling you up, yanking you into his arms until you’re both collapsing into the grass. The crown of your skull clashes with his chin harshly.

His father is still bellowing curses, not that you seem to hear it over the sound of your screams and cries. But Kinich hears it, somehow, floating above the chaos and agony in your voice.

“It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!”

His eyes flutter shut as the voice fades away, and then grows silent.

It’s too quiet.

Even the crickets seem to censor themselves, hiding from the entire ordeal. Kinich releases his hold on you, rolling onto his stomach, then onto his knees. The grass seems to waver under his stare, rippling and oscillating until it feels like the entire world is quivering beneath him.

He barely registers that you’re struggling to pull yourself upright behind him.

You turn away from Kinich’s hunched form to vomit in the grass, overwhelmed by it all. A corpse lies at the foot of the cliff now, one that could’ve just as easily been you. One that might have actually been your fault. The thought makes you vomit again. 

After a few more dry heaves, Kinich’s hand rubs at your back, the other gently easing your hair away from your mouth. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes filled with tears and nose dripping with snot. 

“Kinich,” you sob, trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was too slow, and he—he fell. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I know he wasn’t—I don’t—but that was your—your father—”

He takes you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him—really look at him. His expression seems the same as always, but you know the difference. You note the quivering at the edge of his lips, the light sheen at the corners of his eyes. It disappears as quickly as you notice it, flattening under a disposition of stone.

“I weighed the value between you,” he says, gaze meeting your glassy stare. Your heart flutters. “And I chose you.”

And for a bit, you pretend that you can’t hear the thick lump in his throat, or the way his nose scrunches to keep the tears from slipping. Instead, you take his hand, struggling to your feet.

Kinich gives you a once-over—your pant leg is tattered now, a long strip of fabric ripped from the bottom. A flash of crimson peeks from under the remaining cloth.

Thin lines of blood bloom over the joint there, slowly running down the length of your leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he rasps, assessing the extent of your wound. It’s not deep—a skinned knee at most, which he’s grateful for. He’s treated much worse on his own body.

There’s so much to do, he thinks, pushing through the foggy haze permeating his mind. He has to retrieve his father’s body. He has to treat your wound. With his father gone, he needs to make a plan for his own survival.

It’s not as if his father ever really helped out anyway, but the thought of being truly, totally alone is harrowing. It takes another minute for him to remember that you’re still standing at his side.

“Go back to the house,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Wait for me in the kitchen—”

“No!” You blurt, looking surprised despite yourself. Kinich jolts, meeting your eyes. “You’re going to get his body, right?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods solemnly.

Kinich has looked down these cliffs many times; he knows the sheer height of them. There’s absolutely no chance that his father’s body is in any sort of good shape at the bottom. The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You swallow. “So let’s go.”

The fear is reflected in the way your hands shake, but your shoulders straighten and you reach for him, slotting your fingers together. It’s the most bravery that you can manage, at least right now. Kinich accepts it gratefully.

Making your way down the cliff is treacherous with the little light you have. You don’t speak, barely even breathe. The stars lay watchful above, winking and illuminating your way. 

Even with your hand in his, Kinich glances back occasionally, ensuring you’re still with him—you always are, still sniffling and scrubbing at your eyes. 

It’s hard for you, and it’s obvious; he has to catch you several times when your foot slips off the stone, but you’re still with him. You’re still with him, he thinks. Kinich repeats it to himself a few times, letting it anchor him as he struggles down the rocks.

His father’s body is stiff by the time you reach it.

You’re too afraid to look at first, meekly standing behind him. It takes a few minutes before you work up the courage to peek over his shoulder, one hand over your mouth. Kinich isn’t sure whether to pray, or cry, or leave it all behind—for a few minutes, he doesn’t do anything at all.

The body is mangled, as he’d expected. You don’t dare to look at it again; you pace about the area, trying to keep your wits about you. 

Everything about it is too familiar. He sees himself in the corpse, the blond hair fanned around the head like a halo, the golden eyes forever stuck in a faraway stare. The grappling hook that he always kept on his person.

His father. A half of him. His flesh and blood.

And he’d let him go.

Kinich feels for his own heartbeat over his shirt, fisting at the cloth there.

You are still alive, it whispers.

So he calls your name, soft. You peek at him through the darkness.

“We have to bring it back,” he murmurs.

And you, despite it all, despite the terror that licks hot up your neck, simply nod.

“Okay.”

As the two of you drag the corpse back toward the house, fingertips sticky with blood that freezes in the passing wind, Kinich realizes it—

This is the coldest November he’s ever experienced.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

"I'm angry at you" Tim forces out.

It's been a long time coming, the words that have been circling his mind for years. Rotting the back of his throat.

Jason is Bruce's son in a way that he will never be. It's just a simple fact.

Maybe he could have picked a different time maybe a family dinner wasn't the place, but he was the one that spent year's of his life having to dodge bullets and murder attempts. He had to spend month's in physical therapy after the tower.

The place he felt safe was ripped away because Jason who is traumatized he hasn't forgot that fact, decided to hunt him down and hurt him.

Maybe Robin isn't a child, but Tim Drake was.

He turns to Bruce who's face is of course blank he's the one who wants Jason here yet not an emotion in sight.

Turns back to look Jason in the eye the man who's sitting next to Damian sometimes he wonders if Alfred does it on purpose a way to remind Tim that his murderers will always have something he doesn't.

He will look him in the eye he will not falter today.

"I was a child, I should have never been the exception to your rule. Say what you will about Robin being something else but you didn't care about Robin you cared it was me"

Silence it's funny how comforting it can be.

"I should not have to sit at the same table as two of my attempted murderers and pretend that it's ok. You are both traumatized I understand that but it will never be an excuse for traumatizing me. I see the Red hood and Robin in my nightmares."

He turns to look at Dick who as always is to the right of him once again pointing to Alfred doing this seating on purpose.

"You are a hypocrite who has never shut up about drying but goes out his way to kill another Robin."

He sees Alfred step forward closer to Bruce he wonders what the point is will he say anything, not likely but why move he almost asks yet if he doesn't finish he never will.

"This was your home first it still is, but I have bled and given more than you will ever know to secure my place here. So Bruce I do not ever want to partnered with either one of them in the field. You or Dick are the only options. You will not argue with me this is me laying my boundaries which I am entitled to."

He stares at Alfred loosing the blank look to let some of the anger out. He wants him to know.

"You will also never again force me to sit at a dinner table across from them again. Whatever British Passive-Aggressive gesture this is. You have no right to do. I will never forgive you for my birthday."

Dick goes to interrupt he doesn't let him.

"Bruce and Alfred have my full permission to discuss the psychological torture they put me through as my birthday present. But from now on none of you get to treat me as if I am some replacement or placeholder. I am a person with feelings, I will not be treated like a doormat."

He makes eye contact with each of them Alfred, Bruce, Jason and Damian.

Before turning to Dick for the last part.

"You are the only person here who has never deliberately hurt me, your my brother and I love you. I want to spend more time with you and I am specifically requesting that you come with me when I leave this table. We can get dinner or hang out but I need you to leave with me."

----------

Bruce is speechless.

How did he do this, his child is sitting at his table trembling and he can't move.

His child who just spent ten minutes defending himself and he is doing nothing.

Dick interrupts what he can admit is a pity party.

"Your my brother, I will happily follow you to the ends of the earth and if we leave now we can go to the Thai place that you like."

He can't let them leave he has to say something.

Tell Tim that he loves him, that he can fix this that this isn't the end. That it matters but before he can there gone.

His boys leave.

His precious sons, one loyal to a fault and one hurt beyond measure and what did he do nothing.

What he always does nothing.

[lucysarah-c]

"Alright, spill the beans," Erwin said as he sat down on the couch, opening a beer can and crossing his legs. He could hardly contain his smile. Mike and Hange stared intensely at the shorter man. Levi had told them he had something to "share," and he hardly ever shared anything. Therefore, all attention and the floor were his.

The group of friends grew more and more curious as Levi seemed unsure, almost shy. His finger tapped his beer can uneasily as he pressed his lips together. "Fine, but don't fucking laugh."

"I can't promise you that," Hange quickly confirmed, making the other two chuckle but also agree. Levi just sighed resigned.

"Y/N… Y/N found a thong that wasn't hers among her clothes."

Erwin, who was sipping his drink, spat it out in shock at how quickly the situation escalated.

"WHAT?!" Hange tilted forward as they heard what happened while the rest looked in shock, mouths open. "You CHEATED on your 9-year-long girlfriend?!"

"No!" Levi almost shouted back. "That's what I'm trying to explain!"

It was Monday night. We had dinner after coming home, the usual routine. I was doing the dishes after she got out of the shower, and I heard her steps going down the stairs very heavily. That was the first thing that caught my attention, and before I knew it was her, still freshly showered, looking at me and pulling out a red thong, stretching it between her hands. "Whose are these?" My mind went automatically blank. I saw her resting her hand on her hip and frowning back at me. "I-uh." "Because they are not mine," she insisted, her anger palpable. I swear I was trying to speak, but I could only mumble broken shit as she stared back at me as if she was searching for my soul. "Levi Ackerman, WHOSE ARE THESE?" "I- I don't know, I don't fucking know. I swear," I quickly replied as I blinked, trying to find a solution. My mind started to question everything. 'I'm Levi Ackerman… I'm conscious of my actions… I haven't cheated on my girlfriend,' yet I was sweating as if I had. I had no idea whose those were. It was obvious that they weren't hers, apparently, but I've not slept with another woman in years, so I didn't even know where they could have come from. I doubted my entire existence, I began to wonder if I had been drugged and perhaps did something that I didn't recall. The tears, when she began sobbing softly. I felt like the worst human being. "How could you? After all these years…" "No, no, I fucking swear," I said, growing anxious. I don't even own social media accounts; I don't have a password on my phone. I hate cheaters; I would never do something like that to her, to anyone. For a split second, I thought it would have been easier to lie and explain that it was mine somehow. In that moment, my phone started to ring with one of the numbers I have on priorities as she began to walk up stairs. I rushed to pick it up. "Call you later." "Bro, everything okay?" Isabel's voice came from the speakers as she had called me on FaceTime, as she usually does. Apparently, I forgot to hang up as I was walking behind Y/N. "Y/N, I swear on my mother that I don't know whose are those." I was trying to explain myself when Isabel's voice came from the phone again. "There they are! I was wondering where I left them!"

"Apparently, it was from one time they all came over to my house for the pool. I must have put it in the laundry and thought they were Y/N's," Levi finished the tale as the rest looked at him surprised and entertained.

"Didn't you think they could be Isabel's?" Erwin questioned back between chuckles.

"No! How was I supposed to know a red thong was Isabel's!" Levi commented as his cheeks got slightly red.

"Levi… Isabel is 23 already…" Mike said slowly as he tried to make his friend process the idea.

"Tch," Levi took a good sip from his beer as he processed the idea. "You've no idea how fucking scared I was, and when Isabel said they were hers… fucking shit, I never breathed more peacefully in my entire life."

"That happens to you because you do laundry. Since I never do laundry, I don't have those issues," Hange said entertained, but Levi looked back at the brunette dead in the eyes.

Tag list!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @jimoonbeau @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomio4 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 Wanna join my tag list? here!

[tsxkkis]

# kageyama tobio - private

a/n: not proud of this, because i didn't truly know how to end it. also i've been searching for a job lately and it's so damn hard to find one help T-T i still gotta try though because i want money for figurines and mangas :33

summary: your relationship with kageyama was a secret from the public, but it can't be private forever.

warnings: none really

tobio kageyama never answers his phone while training.

his mind was always set on one thing - volleyball. it's like everything else was secondary to his beloved sport, to his safe space, which he adored and treasured dearly. there was only one thing he loved just as much; but that was kept a secret from the world.

along with being a professional athlete came the fame, and with the fame came lack of privacy, something that kageyama seemed to hate from the very beginning of joining schweiden adlers. he vowed to himself that his private life will never become a topic of public discussion, that he'll control every information that comes out to the media as much as he possibly can.

'they're writing about you.' ushijima's voice echoed through their changing room as he handed the black-haired boy his phone, an internet article opened up on one of the most popular gossip pages. upon seeing the title and content of the article, the look on his face instantly changed - he looked irritated, almost insulted. kageyama's nose scrunched in dissatisfaction as if he's just seen another picture of hinata and oikawa hanging out in brazil.

'ooh, let me see!' hoshiumi snached the phone away, curious eyes following the text on the screen, a small gasp leaving his parted lips every now and then. kageyama was quick to get the phone back with an annoyed huff, suddenly putting his shoes on much quicker than before.

the white-haired man looked like he was about to say something, but he was quickly cut off before he could even let a word out.

'don't even mention it.'

'you have a GIRLFRIEND?!'

the changing room fell silent, the only two men left there besides kageyama standing still, awaiting an answer. but as they noticed the tips of tobio's ears turning into a color similar to a rose and his gaze avoiding their glares, they realized they didn't need one.

they weren't exactly shocked by their discovery - tobio was always a private person, and he didn't really talk about his life much, much preffering conversations about volleyball instead of one's that circled around him.

a notification popped up on his phone, disrupting the silence between the three men.

it was you.

'i'm waiting in front of the changing room like i told you yesterday :33'

'hurry up!'

tobio realized he completely forgot about his promise to you, and as his cheeks flushed pink, he suddenly realized that maybe the whole situation wasn't so bad after all.

'you want to meet my teammates?'

kageyama's stood in your shared room's doorframe, a curious look on his face. 'why the hell would you want to meet these idiots?'

'i want to get to know the people my boyfriend hangs out with.' you mumbled, putting down the book you were currently reading. 'you know, i understand that you want to protect your peace from the outside world, but i don't think you have to hide your entire life from your work friends. they seem trustworthy, for all i know.'

the black-haired man plopped onto the bed right next to you, choosing your arm as a perfect pillow for himself. the room fell silent for a few minutes, but you didn't pressure tobio to answer you right away - from the look on his face you knew he was thinking, rather intensely at that, so there was no point in disrupting his trail of thoughts.

'how am i supposed to break it to them, though?' he asked, a genuinely confused look on his face. 'hey, i've been in a relationship for the last four years and never told you, sorry.'

a giggle left your mouth, your hand softly brushing through your boyfriend's hair, twirling the short strands around your fingers.

'i can just come to meet you up after practice and introduce myself. it'll be less awkward for you that way.'

kageyama hummed in response, as if he was deciding on whether he should go with your idea or not. he knew that your relationship being uncovered was inevitable - that sooner or later, they would find out anyways. so maybe your idea wasn't so bad.

'tommorow?' he mumbled, head leaning into your soft hands, almost as if he was pleading you to play with his hair just a tad bit longer.

'fine by me.'

you stood in one place, patiently awaiting your boyfriend as you scrolled through your phone, invested in a particularly hard game of sudoku. as you heard the door crack open, your eyes quickly shot up, hoping to be met with your boyfriend's tall figure. instead, a way shorter, white-haired man showed up right in front of you, bright eyes scanning your figure from head to toe.

'i know you! you used to be karasuno's manage-'

'give her some space, hoshiumi.' a tall man appeared from behind him, one that you recognized to be ushijima almost immediately. you remembered both of the men from your times in high school, and yet you never truly had a chance to meet them properly - not until now, that is.

as you greeted tobio, who emerged from the changing room shortly after, you weren't even surprised that he opted for a hug instead of a kiss - although an adult already, kageyama was still awkward with any public displays of affection. he preferred to keep those special moments to himself.

'have you seen the article?' he hummed quietly, his eyes glued to your face smiling at your confused look.

'what article?'

although a little dumbfounded by your lack of knowledge of it, kageyama quickly pulled out his phone and handed it to you, the article opened up on the screen.

'oh.' your face went blank as you eyed the words in front of you, suddenly connecting the dots. 'so that's why there's so many reporters and paparazzi in front of the building.

reporters? paparazzi?

'shit.' he mumbled under his breath. 'how many of them?'

'around ten, maybe eleven.' kageyama's smile dropped almost immediately upon hearing the number. you carefully scanned his face, hand going up to gently ruffle his hair. 'we can wait for them to leave if you don't want them to see us. i don't mind.'

he thought for a hot minute, rethinking every possible scenario that could happen, every option available. was he truly ready for his private life to become so... public?

kageyama wasn't exactly sure. you've been together for so long that he knew this relationship would last through anything and everything, but at the same time, he didn't want things to change. he hated changes - they never truly meant anything good, and he would always avoid them as much as possible.

but this change was inevitable.

'it's alright.' he said, breaking the moment of silence. 'it would've happened sooner or later. might as well have this behind us, right?'

'are you sure?' you asked quietly, squeezing his hand as you saw kageyama already heading towards the door. his head quickly turned to face you, giving you a small nod before his hand landed on the handle.

'not entirely.' he admitted, eyes darting away from your gaze. 'but i can do it as long as it's with you.'

'hey, don't forget about us!' hoshiumi's stated, your boyfriend shooting him a deathly glare for interrupting the moment between you two. 'maybe we should all grab some dinner, what do you say? i'm sure you're all hungry.'

'come to think of it,' ushijima barged into the conversation, his usual monotone tone. 'i know a restaurant where the paparazzi won't bother us.'

you exchanged looks with tobio, a barely noticeable smile on your face being enough for him to know that you agree.

'let's do it.' the black-haired man said, solidifying the idea once and for all.

'what if they won't leave us alone?' he could see that your anxious side took over, suddenly stressed out about going outside. kageyama gave you a reassuring look, smiling softly.

'then they'll know how amazing my girlfriend is.'

'oooh, how corny-' hoshiumi mumbled, stopping when he saw kageyama's annoyed glare. 'alright, lovebirds, i'll be quiet.'

'you'd better.' you giggled at your boyfriend's words, his hand once again on the handle. he looked your way, softly smiling down at you. 'ready?'

you looked up, eyes meeting his.

'with you by my side? always.'

taglist: @moonswolfie

[monzamash]

itch — charles leclerc

charles leclerc x you (femreader) | 2.9k summary – spotting charles' weight session in your home gym. that's it. warnings – 18+ (sex, course language) a//n – had to re-upload because the tags glitched out but here's the second fic in the #monzamash special x

The soft, distant thrum of music playing was the only sound travelling through your otherwise peaceful home. You had set yourself up for a quiet afternoon with a glass of iced tea, catching up on work that you’d missed while travelling to a couple of races, watching your boyfriend do his thing. Charles always gave you the VIP treatment, making sure your time away from your life was worth it and of course it was. But nothing could beat the summer break at home in Monaco, with him by your side for a change.

Just as you settled into the couch, an almost finished lemon popsicle in hand and your laptop steadied on your lap, you heard your name being called from the other end of the house. The voice echoing through the hallway belonged to Charles and there was a part of you that wanted to pretend like you hadn't heard him, feeling way too comfy and in the zone to get up again if it wasn’t important.

That was until you heard your name again, a little louder this time and you knew that you couldn’t ignore him. Your man was persistent and even though you loved your time with him during the break and over the off-season, it did become apparent that when he was home, he always wanted you close by to talk to. Like he was trying to make up for lost time but he forgot that even though he had time off, your work life continued much to your dismay.

But you were both working on finding the right balance.

"Where are you?" You shouted back and pulled yourself out of your spot on the couch, on a mission to track down your needy but ridiculously cute boyfriend.

You followed the music, figuring that he must’ve been in the home gym he’d set up a couple of winters ago. The new Coldplay album was playing on the sound system, echoing off the mirrors that lined the otherwise blank walls. It was a messy sight as you walked in – yoga mats that you’d left behind sprawled out on the ground while Charles sat hunched over, scrolling on his phone with his legs hanging over each side of the bench press that was sitting in the middle of the naturally lit room.

He was quick to notice your presence in the door way and chucked his phone onto one of the many towels neatly folded up on the shelf behind him, "Could you spot me, please? Because I nearly killed myself with this weight."

You swear you were listening but you couldn’t help but take a second to drink in his appearance, suddenly feeling a hot flush wash over your chest. He was sans shirt and glistening with sweat, which would’ve been enough to fuel your desires but the tight short shorts and the hair sticking to his forehead was what really got the endorphins running. And as much as you could’ve stared at him for the rest of your days, the last thing you wanted was for Charles to notice how flustered you were by his appearance.

"If that thing is going to fall on your face, there's no way my twig arms are going to stop it," You scoffed, eyeing at the weights behind his head with concern.

"You just have to push it off me so it doesn't crush my chest," He shrugged with a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, far too nonchalantly for your liking.

"Oh right – just casually save my boyfriend from being crushed to death. Cool…" You sarcastically retorted while Charles wiped his hands on his shorts and scooted underneath the bar, back squeaking as it stuck to the faux leather.

"Just come and stand behind my head, baby," He sweetly directed and you sighed softly, knowing that he was going to keep lifting the stupid thing anyway and you would much rather be there if anything did happen.

So you shuffled around to where he’d settled himself on the bench, feet and shoulders with the part, ready to save the day if you needed to. Well, kind of ready because the view from where you were standing was not only magnificent but wildly distracting.

“Atta girl.”

Charles’ strong hands gripped the bar and lifted it carefully off the stand, flickering his eyes to each side and making sure they were securely off before bringing it down towards his tensed chest. The grunts that left his throat as the muscles and veins in his arms bulged under his taut skin sounded exactly like the noises he was breathing in your ear last night as he fucked you into the next dimension, the sound immediately transporting you back to the way his hands felt on your supple skin.

His tight chest puffed out in time with his sharp hips that bucked off the bench with each rep and the groans leaving his lips were making it difficult to keep an eye on the job, even though a part of you wondered whether this was all a ploy to get you in here and see this glorified soft core in session. Knowing Charles, it was almost definitely the latter.

"Okay two more," He huffed out, lifting the bar up and down a couple more times, concentration stitched into his sticky forehead.

The grunts got louder the closer he was to finishing the set, again casting your mind back to your night between the sheets, before he slowly pushed it up towards the stand and let your fingers hook around the bar, just in case it slipped out of his slick hands. Because every part of his body was perspiring – his biceps, thighs, neck, chest, the bridge of his nose that was achingly close to your core was glistening and so were you, from doing absolutely nothing. Dripping.

Charles sat up with a groan and took a couple of deep breaths, blood pumping through his veins as you watched the muscles on his rippling back contract, “You’re soaked – let me grab you a towel.”

This was your chance to try and shake the daze you were in. It was pathetic the way he wound you up without even knowing, hypnotising you with something as innocent as a workout. Maybe it was because you had been blissfully enjoying each other’s touch the second he dropped his luggage in the doorway, jumping into bed and hardly leaving it ever since.

Or because he was the sexiest creature you’d ever seen and seeing him gleaming with sweat and groaning like an animal was a massive turn on for you. Either way you were soaking after his performance, desperate to have those sounds breathing down your neck as soon as humanely possible.

He graciously took the towel you were offering with a wicked smile, wiping his flushed face and roughly drying his hair before spinning around 90 degrees on the bench, gazing up at you with the same smile but now with that devious sparkle in his eye that always had you hook, line and sinker.

"Merci."

It rolled off his tongue too perfectly and you couldn’t control the eye roll, knowing how much he loved teasing you in French. He also loved how quickly he could get you naked when he spoke in his native tongue, the mischievous smirk and his Monegasque charm leaving you spellbound. 

"Any time," You sang in reply, attempting to leave the room before you combusted on sight but you were stopped by a fistful of fingers grasping the hem of your black cotton shorts.

Charles gently pulled you back, a hole already burnt into the material from his eyes zeroing in on your curves. He loved every inch of you, worshipped the air you breathed and pinched himself daily that you’d stuck around with his crazy stupid schedule and maniacal whims. God, he adored you and ached at how effortlessly beautiful you looked in your matching crop top and shorts, waltzing around the home you had built together.

And he couldn’t hide the way he felt when you looked around, bottom lip clamped loosely between his front teeth, chewing the inside of his cheek and admiring how fucking lucky he was to have such a beautiful creature in his grasp. Heaven sent.

"You look very cute today."

He was smitten; holding your hips in place as you slung your arms around his shoulders. His hands subconsciously trailed down to the back of your thighs and teased the thin hem on your shorts, fingertips melting into the skin like butter as he watched your gorgeously bright eyes narrow.

"I'm not wearing a bra just for you," You flirted, nudging closer to his chest and needing more than just the heat from his hands on your skin.

"I can see that," He hummed matter-of-factly as he gazed over the sheer top that had been driving him crazy all day, adoring the way your nipples hardened at his stare before pressing a peck to the bottom of your sternum.

Charles continued trailing soft kisses across your stomach as you brought your hands to his tousled brown hair, trawling your fingertips through the damp locks and massaging his scalp. A soft, barely audible whimper slipped from his lips as he tilted his head back and caught your eyes, succumbing to the drowsiness and closing them for a quiet moment.

"That feels so nice." 

He practically whispered before opening his eyes and pulling you closer with his hands that were now hidden under your loose top, fingertips following the arch of your spine as you leaned down and captured his soft lips. He tasted salty, tongue deliciously warm as you explored his mouth with your own. You loved the way he inhaled you and swallowed the moans he was causing. The intimacy you shared with him never seized to make you weak in the knees, putty in his hands.

"I wanna watch you fuck me in this mirror." 

Your words were muttered against his pursed lips and Charles’ eyes were wider than a flying saucer when you pulled back ever so slightly, noses bumping together from how close you still were. He huffed out a soft laugh as you nodded towards the mirrors lining the walls around you both, eyeing your reflection beside him.

"Really?" He asked incredulously, a humorous expression ascending onto his blushing cheeks as you returned the raised brow, confused by his question.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" You scoffed, the deadpan look never faltering from your face and causing his goofy smile to fall; finally realising you were being serious.

"Well... no you don't but... Do you want me to do you against the mirror or on here?" Charles asked frowning down at the bench before bouncing up and down on it to make sure it was sturdy enough for your spontaneous demand.

"I don't really care," You almost moaned, smoothing your hands across his strong chest and over his tense shoulders, leaning down and pressing your lips to his damp neck again.

"I don't wanna risk breaking this because it was the last one at the shop so I guess we could do it against the mirrors…”

The hesitation in his voice caused your brows to furrow in disappointment and your hands to drop from his shoulders as you stood up straight, looking down at your boyfriend with a frown.

"Jeez, don't get too excited about it."

The sarcasm was dripping from your tone as Charles shook his head fervently, quickly reaching out to pull you back. All he could think about daily was making love to you in different places in the house and shockingly, the home gym hadn’t been ticked off the list but god, did he want to. He was already twitching thinking about it, the tightness of his shorts already cutting off circulation to his legs.

"No, no. Baby, look at you – I am so excited but you caught me off guard and I was just trying to think… what’s the word? Logically… Logistically…”

"It’s logistically but honey – you called me in here and made me watch you gyrating and make sex noises, and then you told me I look cute and now you're caught off guard that I want to have sex with you?... Are you okay?" You joked, pressing the back of your hand against Charles’ sticky forehead, pretending to check if he had a temperature or if he even had a pulse at all.

He laughed, borderline giggled and shook his head, "Well, when you say it like that, it makes sense. I just didn't think you'd get turned on over that."

You couldn't help but laugh in his face at his assumption, "You're shirtless and sweaty and wearing shorts that are so tight that I can see your dick... There's no way you didn't think this would get me going."

You wagged your finger up and down his body and Charles simply shrugged, hardening by the second, "It didn't even cross my mind but if it's getting your going then let's fucking go!"

Charles slapped his hands down on his lap and immediately reached for the drawstring on your shorts. “These are definitely coming off…” He murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as he slid them down your legs.

"I promise if we break the bench, I will personally call every single shop in Monaco and replace it.”

You stepped out of the cotton material around your ankles, grasping Charles’ shoulders for balance as he tugged on his own shorts; finally liberating himself of the constriction caused by his own unadulterated arousal. He had no control when it came to you.

"Jeez, you are horny," Charles teased as you climbed on top of him; his tactile hands guiding your knees to each side of his thighs with a devilish grin.

He was in his element with you on top of him; he had the perfect view of his girl and he could feel how ready you were for him when you rested on his thigh, your slickness cool against his soft skin. He loved how dialled in you were to his touch, every little wince or mumble making his heart pound harder in his chest – blood rushing to his dick every time you whispered in his ear.

But he knew that you knew how much he craved having you like this so of course he teased you in spirited retaliation, like any man desperately in love does to the one he adores the most.

“You know that if you ever need to get some inspiration, you can always come in and watch me work out, baby. You like it a lot, huh?”

"I do and I intend to enjoy this so shut up."

Now he was really hard, worked up beyond his limits.

As a distraction from his edge, he went back to what he did best – kissing you. You were both as pent up as each other, embarrassingly desperate for two people who had been going at it hammer and tong all weekend but you couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t until the firm grip on your hips tightened even more that you finally felt how enthusiastic he was about fucking you in his gym.

"You taste like lemons," Charles mumbled as your tongues collided.

You couldn’t mask the smirk on your lips as he kissed you again, reaching down and massaging him over his boxer briefs. You pulled away slightly from the kiss, ghosting his swollen lips as you softly stroked him in your hand.

"I bet if you'd seen me eating that popsicle, you would've felt the same way as I did watching you lift those stupid weights," and Charles chuckled at your annoyingly accurate theory, his warm breath fanning over my face before seizing your lips again, wiping that smirk on your sweet lips.

"I probably wouldn’t have lasted, let's be absolutely honest, ma belle," He whispered back with a knowing smile, completely unashamed to be enamoured by the woman slowly stoking him, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure surging through his body.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart.”

Charles simply smiled, eyes barely open as he watched your bodies connecting in the most intimate way, tongue quickly swiping across his bottom lip in preparation for your kiss. As you gripped him tight in your hand and bottomed out on his achingly hard cock, you pressed your lips to his, forced to swallow the loud moan falling from your lips.

l' attente, you whimpered before a sharp inhale caused Charles’ eyes to shoot up to your closed ones, searching your face for any pain.

"You good?" He asked softly but swiftly with his hands firmly placed on the outside of your thighs, gently holding you in place until you have him the okay to move his hips.

"So good," You breathed, tilting your neck back and arching your spine to change the angle a little, feeling that sweet spot deep inside you being brushed ever so gently, “You feel amazing right there.”

Once you both hit that toe curling, achingly good rhythm that you had perfected together, Charles rested his chin on your shoulder and watched how mind-numbingly hot you looked riding him in the mirror, his hands firmly grabbing your ass and spreading you out like a meal he was desperate to devour.

"My god..." He growled as you looked down and followed his eye line, biting your puffy bottom lip when you realised he was watching himself disappear inside you, every inch taken care of. And you too, were groaning at the sight.

“You look gorgeous riding my dick, baby.”

"We look sexy," You were quick to correct, breathless from both the sight of Charles’ large, veiny hands leaving prints on your backside and his relentlessness to have you losing your goddamned mind on his dick.

Both had you twisted in knots, the pit in your stomach tightening with every thrust and all you could do was thank whoever had invented weight training because boy, were you reaping the benefits now. Sex in your home gym – tick.

+ + +

parlez-vous français? (the sequel to itch)

masterlist | askbox

[bookyeom]

pairing: Jeonghan x reader word count: 4.7k warnings: kissing, a swear or two, Jeonghan is wet and yes that's a warning, long-haired Jeonghan which is also a very serious warning

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

i'll be honest looking at you got me thinking nonsense cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in i can’t find my chill, i must have lost it i don't even know, i'm talking nonsense

Yoon Jeonghan comes into your life with the same chaos and tumult of the heavy rain that’s pounding down against your window.

It’s during the middle of an October storm when he shows up at your door. There are loud knocks reverberating throughout your apartment, and you can hear a man calling out for someone named Soonyoung to just ‘let him in already’. It’s followed by more unintelligible mumbles, though you think you can make out the words ‘rain’ and ‘soaking wet’ — you think there might be a few curse words thrown in there, too. Honestly, you’d have ignored the guy if he didn’t sound so… defeated. But you feel bad, so you open the door.

And lock eyes with one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever seen. 

Well, you think to yourself, damn. 

You watch as the man in front of you stops mid-sentence and mid-knock, hand hanging in the air between the two of you for a moment. You take a moment to note the long, dark hair that falls just below his ears, the ends of it dripping rainwater onto his black leather jacket; the dark eyes, framed by some of the most beautiful eyelashes you’ve ever seen. He blinks, a single droplet fluttering down onto his flushed cheek as he does. Then he drops his hand and straightens, wet hair clinging to his forehead — and he smiles. 

“You’re not Soonyoung.”

His words surprise you. The guy standing in front of you is definitely not who you had been expecting, either. He’s gorgeous, rain-soaked and all. You’re certain that you’ve never seen him around here before, because you would definitely remember if you had. 

“No, I’m not,” you affirm. You point over his shoulder to the door across the hall. “Soonyoung’s over there.” 

“Ah,” he says slowly, smile turning sheepish, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He winces as soon as his fingers slide into the wet material, as if suddenly remembering the predicament he’s in, and you stifle a laugh. “I’m Jeonghan,” he adds, and you can tell that he’s attempting to play it cool despite how obviously displeased he is with the current events.

Jeonghan. A pretty name for a pretty guy, you think. 

“Hi, Jeonghan.”

His smile grows, and yours does too. “I’m one of Soonyoung’s friends,” he explains. “He forgot to give me the code for the door downstairs, and he wasn’t answering his buzzer...” He glances down at himself, soaked to the bone, and the smile falls from his lips. You can’t help it — you let out the giggle you’ve been suppressing. His gaze finds yours again at the sound, eyebrows raising, and you bite your lip. 

“Sorry,” you offer, semi-apologetic, though you’re still biting back a grin. “That sucks.”

“Thanks so much,” he returns, and you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. You hold up your hands in surrender, and then he’s smiling at you again, and — holy shit, he’s pretty. 

Neither of you move, and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows. Jeonghan seems to snap out of it, lifting a hand to run through his hair, and you’re almost embarrassed at the way you ogle him while he does. He doesn’t seem to notice, thank god. You’ve never met this man before, but something tells you he’d be awfully smug if he knew. You don’t look like that and not know it.

“I just moved into an apartment down the street,” he continues, “so I’ll be at Soonyoung’s more often.” He pauses, and then he smiles at you again — like he’s got a secret that you don’t get to know. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure. See you later, Jeonghan.”

You don’t think too much about Jeonghan over the next couple of days. Work is busier than usual, so you get home late every day, exhausted — and you spend far too much money on takeout food. But today is finally Friday, so you treat yourself to an XL pizza with zero regrets. You’ll start making your own meals again tomorrow. 

You’re lounging on your couch, only half paying attention to the series playing on your TV screen, when you hear a knock on your door that shakes you out of your exhausted daze. Your eyebrows furrow. Usually, you’d have to let the delivery person in with your buzzer, but you suppose someone might have let them in the building. 

You grab your wallet, flipping it open to take out your debit card. When you open your door, you freeze in your tracks, because it’s not the pizza delivery guy who stands on the other side. It’s Jeonghan. 

Your eyes take him in, head to toe, and you can’t even be ashamed about it. You don’t think you could look away if you tried. He looks different today — more put-together. A lot drier. Just as devastatingly beautiful, though. You’d nearly forgotten. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi,” you echo. 

Then he does the thing that hooked you the first time you’d met — he smiles. He doesn’t say anything else until you raise your eyebrows, and he seems to realize that it’s his turn to speak again.

“What are you paying me for?”

You blink. Then you remember you’re clutching your bank card in your hand, and you let out an awkward laugh. “Thought you were the delivery guy.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he teases. 

“I forgive you.”

Jeonghan’s smile widens, and you wait for him to continue. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about last week,” he says, and you watch as he bites his lip with a sheepish smile. “Not a great first impression.”

You hum. “True. You’re lucky I even opened the door that night, what with how crazy you sounded and all.” 

You’re teasing, but he’s unflinching as he holds your gaze and responds, “Yeah, I am lucky.”

You manage to keep your cool as you cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe, but you’d be lying if you said his blatant flirtation isn’t working on you. “Well, you’re extra lucky I opened the door again today.”

He breaks out into a grin. “Like I said… I know.”

You don’t even attempt to smile back — it just happens, involuntarily. God, he’s cute. 

You wait again for him to say something. He doesn’t. He just looks at you, and you start to feel a bit warm under his gaze. “Was there anything else?” You finally say. “I hope you didn’t forget where Soonyoung lives again.”

“Oh.” Jeonghan blinks, shaking his head. “No. I just… didn’t get your name last time.”

He seems to immediately regret how quickly he’s said the words, and you can’t believe how absolutely endeared you are by it all. Something tells you that the man in front of you is usually better at this. It makes you flush, makes you feel far too giddy, to realize that you seem to be the reason he’s flustered. 

“Y/N,” you offer, and Jeonghan’s smile returns. 

“Y/N,” he repeats. “Nice to meet you… Again.”

When he excuses himself towards Soonyoung’s and you close the door behind you, you don’t even try to tamper down the grin that’s on your face.

The next week, it takes everything in you not to think about Jeonghan.

It’s Wednesday morning when you run into Soonyoung in the lobby by the post boxes. He looks like he’s just come from the gym, Nike bag slung over one shoulder as he flashes you a smile, lifting one hand in an excited wave. 

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey,” you greet. 

"How are you?"

His energy is contagious, and you can already feel your morning getting brighter just at the sight of him.

"I'm doing good, Soonyoung, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm great!" He turns to leave with another hearty wave, free hand now full of mail, and you wave back. You’re startled when you hear his footsteps come to an abrupt halt. He calls your name again, and you turn to him in surprise.

“Are you busy Friday night?” 

Your eyes widen. “Me?”

Soonyoung giggles, nose scrunching up as he does. “No, the mailbox.”

You blush. “Right. I don’t think so, why?”

“I’m having a little gathering with some of my friends,” he tells you. “If you’re home, I’d love for you to come!”

You’re caught off guard — and terribly, terribly pleased. You’ve always liked Soonyoung’s energy, and you’re honestly surprised you haven’t hung out with him before. Plus, your mind supplies unhelpfully, Jeonghan might be there.

“That sounds fun,” you say, brushing the thought aside, and Soonyoung beams.

“Cool! People are coming around 8:00.” He grins. “You know where to find me.”

On Friday, you cross the hall to Soonyoung’s just after 8:30pm. You were hoping Jeonghan would be there by now – because you don’t know any of Soonyoung’s other friends, is what you tell yourself – but he isn’t. Soonyoung greets you with a hug and a beaming smile, and he quickly pulls you into his apartment and introduces you to his other friends.

It’s easy, you realize, to talk to them. You manage to entrench yourself deep into a conversation about the best ways to cook potatoes with his friend Mingyu, but your eyes still keep flickering to the front door against your will. It’s just after 9:00 when Jeonghan finally arrives.

You try to play it cool when your eyes meet, as if you haven’t been holding your breath waiting for him to arrive, your hand lifting to send him a small wave before you turn back to your conversation with Mingyu. You can feel Jeonghan’s eyes still on you, though, and it takes every effort you have in you to ignore the pull of his gaze.

You’re surprised when Soonyoung plops down next to you, leaning forward to slap Mingyu’s knee. The younger man lets out a whine, but Soonyoung simply grins. Mingyu doesn’t retaliate with anything more than a pout, even though he could easily win against Soonyoung in a fistfight. It makes you smile, how much they seem to genuinely like each other. 

“Y/N!” Soonyoung suddenly turns to you, and you startle.  

“Soonyoung!” You say back, and you hear Mingyu snicker from his spot across from you.

“You’re so cool,” Soonyoung gushes, and you can tell he’s a few drinks deep, but it makes you smile anyway. You’re about to thank him when he continues, “I’m so glad Jeonghan suggested inviting you. I don’t know why I never have before! You’re super cool.”

You ignore the way your face flushes, and Soonyoung is thankfully too excited to notice. 

“Thanks, Soonyoung. I’m glad to be here,” you say honestly, and you’re greeted with that blinding smile again in return. You’ve always thought that your neighbour was cute, and you’re quickly discovering that his personality absolutely matches your initial assessment.

As Soonyoung turns back to Mingyu and the two of them fall into an animated conversation, your eyes wander across the room, Soonyoung’s previous words replaying in your mind. 

Jeonghan suggested inviting you.

Your eyes quickly find the man in question. He’s leaning against the wall by the window now as he chats to his other friends. You watch him for a moment, a smile on your lips, and he must feel your gaze on him because he turns, soft brown eyes meeting yours. You don’t look away this time, arching an eyebrow at him, and he easily returns the gesture. It makes you smile even more.

You excuse yourself from Soonyoung and Mingyu, heading into the kitchen. You’ve just found where Soonyoung keeps his glasses and are filling one up with water from the tap when you hear someone enter the room behind you.

“Hey, 213.”

You try to be nonchalant when you turn, your eyebrows raised as you lift the glass to your lips. “I gave you my name… and for what?”

The smile on Jeonghan’s mouth grows. It really is quite something, the power that smile holds. “I’m so sorry,” he teases. “Hi, Y/N.” 

The sound of your name coming from his mouth sounds even better today. “Hi, Jeonghan.”

He leans against the counter, hands sliding into his pockets. “Did you have a good week?”

“I did,” you say honestly. “It was a lot less busy than last week — which was nuts. I had like eight projects due and…” You trail off, cheeks flushing as you realize you’d begun to ramble. So much for keeping your cool. What is it about this guy that lowers all your defenses? You’ve only met him twice before tonight.

You can’t help it, though. You want to know more — you want to know everything about him. And what’s even scarier is that you think you might want him to know everything about you, too.

“I’m glad,” is all he says, and you feel the sudden need to take another sip of water, averting your eyes. 

“What about you?” 

He hums. “Mine was good, too.” You can feel him looking at you, not saying anything until you meet his eyes again, and then he says, “It’s even better now.”

You don’t have a chance to answer before a commotion sounds through the apartment, and the both of you jump. You follow Jeonghan back out into the living room, where you find two new faces at the door. The man beside you amusedly informs you that the newcomers are Seokmin and Seungkwan, or in other words, the two that encourage — and even join in on — all of Soonyoung’s bad ideas. The commotion you’d heard had been the result of a tipsy Soonyoung seeing his partners in crime and loudly cheering.

The moment with Jeonghan is lost as the two of you rejoin the party, but it's all you think about for the rest of the evening. 

As the night goes on, you find that you really like Soonyoung’s friends. But after just one glass of wine and the clock passing 11:00pm, you can feel your energy draining. You’re pretty sure Soonyoung himself is asleep in the armchair. You wait for Seungkwan to finish telling his story before you announce your plans to excuse yourself. The news is met with a chorus of awws and boos, but you know they’re only teasing. You can’t help but laugh at their antics, bidding your goodbyes as you stand and head for the door.

“I’ll walk you home.”

You turn as Jeonghan speaks from behind you, ready to tease him because really? but he’s prepared for it, already grinning blindingly over at you before you can make a retort. You wonder how old he was when he learned the power of disarmament that his smile holds. 

He opens the door and gestures for you to leave first, and you concede. You take the four steps out into the hall and across to your own apartment door, Jeonghan trailing behind you. As you pull out and insert your key, you glance at him and you say, “Thanks for asking Soonyoung to invite me.”

You see Jeonghan’s eyes flash in surprise, but he’s quick to mask it. “No problem,” he responds, a hand lifting to scratch the side of his jaw. He offers you a shy smile and you jokingly roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, too.

“Was it too hard to invite me yourself, or what?”

Jeonghan leans against the wall. If he’s phased by your bluntness, it doesn’t show. “I didn’t have any way to contact you.”

“‘Didn’t’, past tense?” Your door unlocks, and you gently push it open with one hand. “Why, do you have a way to contact me now?”

You’re teasing him, and you know he knows it. But all he does is smile, pushing off the wall as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and holds it out for you to take. 

“You tell me.”

You almost want to pretend to debate his proposal, but his eyes are so sincere as he waits that you just can’t tease him. You knew from the second he took out his phone that you were going to give him your number, so what’s the point in pretending? 

Wordlessly, you take his phone and enter your information, trying to ignore the way you can feel him watching you. You hand it back to him without a word, contact info saved, and offer him a soft ‘goodnight’ before you slip into your apartment.

Unknown Number [11:21pm]: hi :)

Y/N [11:23pm]: who’s this? ;)

Jeonghan [11:24pm]: oh sorry, do i have the wrong number? 

Jeonghan [11:24pm]: I’ll go

You bite your lip, clutching a pillow to your chest as you debate your answer. You’re feeling so giddy, so shy — you even kick your feet a little. You think for a minute, debating whether or not to just go for it. You do.

Y/N [11:26pm]: please don’t

You expect him to tease you for giving in so easily. He doesn’t.

Jeonghan [11:27pm]: :)

Jeonghan (11:27pm]: hi, y/n

To your pleasant surprise, you end up spending more and more time across the hallway at Soonyoung’s over the next few weeks. He texts you the morning after his party and apologizes for how drunk he had gotten, and an hour later, you show up at his door with cookies and two bottles of purple Gatorade. The rest is history. 

You really like Soonyoung. He’s hilarious, and kind, and a little bit out there in all the best of ways. He appreciates your cooking, and you appreciate his taste in takeout food. He tolerates your rom coms and you tolerate his poor taste in TV sitcoms. You’re grateful to have made a new friend, and you like spending time with him. 

It doesn’t hurt that Jeonghan stops by a couple of times, too. And every time, you willfully ignore the smug looks Soonyoung sends your way.

It’s been over a month since you met Jeonghan. You text almost every day, and you’ve seen him at Soonyoung’s almost every week since you met. He makes you laugh, he texts you good night, and you’ve caught him looking at you on more than one occasion. And yet — he hasn’t made a single move. 

You think that maybe you should be the one to do it, but you’re unsure. You know he’s flirting with you — you’re not stupid — and you know he’s not shy about any of it. He has to know you’re flirting with him, too, because you’ve never been more obvious about anything in your life, ever. You usually have no qualms about being the one to make a move first, but in these weeks getting to know Jeonghan, you’ve learned some things.

One: Jeonghan has your favourite smile in the world.

Two: He’s confident, and loves to tease.

Three: He’s actually a giant softie.

You see his softness in so many ways. You see it in the way he remembers everything about his friends, from allergies to favourite colours; in the way he brought salt when he came over last week because he remembered Soonyoung ran out; in the way he pretends to complain but then watches his friend’s antics with the fondest of smiles. 

And you wonder if maybe he’s as afraid of this new thing between you as you are.

So you’re giving him time. 

But on nights like tonight, when Soonyoung purposefully moves to the armchair when Jeonghan arrives so that he can join you on the couch, when Jeonghan’s knee is pressed to yours and his arm is on the back of the couch, when you catch him staring during the movie and he doesn’t look away — you think you might snap if he doesn’t do something soon.

“I swear I’ve never seen Jeonghan this much in all the years I’ve known him,” Soonyoung comments out of the blue one Thursday evening.

It takes you a second to process what he’s said, your head lifting from your laptop to look at him. “Oh.” You blink. “Because he lives closer now, you mean?”

Soonyoung simply scoffs, and you distinctly feel like you’re missing something. He gives you a pointed look. “We used to be roommates in uni, and I didn’t even see him this much then.” You nod slowly, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. He rolls his eyes. “He’s obviously around more lately because of you, Y/N.”

The flush spreads all the way from your head to your toes. The idea of it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and you hide your face behind your laptop again. “Shut up, Soonyoung.”

“Are you going to tell me you didn’t notice?”

You pause, staring at your screen but not really seeing it. “I did notice,” you finally say softly. “But…”

“But what? Don’t pretend you’re not just as down bad for him.”

You bite down on your lower lip, but you don’t deny it. “He hasn’t said anything, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung doesn’t look at you as he casually says, “Yeah, well, that’s because Jeonghan’s a dumbass.”

You snort but don’t respond, and the conversation is left at that.

Jeonghan [2:45pm]: what are you upto?

Y/N [2:48pm]: trying not to murder my new bookshelf before I even get it put up 

Y/N [2:48pm]: you?

Jeonghan [2:50pm]: haha oh no

Jeonghan [2:53pm]: i have to stop by Soonyoung’s on my way home 

Jeonghan [2:53pm]: do you want some help? 

Jeonghan, it turns out, isn’t much help at all. 

“You’re worse than me!”

You can’t stop laughing as Jeonghan stands there helplessly, both of you watching the bookshelf crumble for the third time in an hour. As the last piece hits the floor, he turns to pout at you. 

“Let’s give up for now,” you offer, and you try to hold back your giggle at the indignant look on his face. You can’t.

Jeonghan groans as you dissolve into another fit of laughter. He collapses down onto the couch next to you, his head falling back. His hair has gotten a bit longer recently since he’s started letting it grow out, and your eyes can’t help but watch the way the dark strands fall over the back of your sofa. You suppress a shiver as you picture running your fingers through it, before shaking yourself out of it. 

“Why did you volunteer to help if you’re this bad at it?” You tease him one more time, and he opens one eye to glare at you.

“I didn’t think it could be that much harder than Lego.” His voice is small when he says it, obviously embarrassed, and you try — you really try — not to laugh at him. It’s futile. 

“Lego?” You repeat, and then you’re breaking into a fit of giggles again.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I have a sick Lego collection at my place.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Inviting yourself over so soon?”

You ignore the flutter in your tummy and opt for rolling your eyes as a response. “You’re literally in my apartment right now, Jeonghan.”

He holds your gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting as he stares at you, and the butterflies take full flight, unable to stop that silly little feeling from settling deep in the pit of your stomach. “I am,” he hums. He breaks your gaze only to lift his head and glance around the living room, before his eyes settle on you again and he says, “I like it. It’s very… you.”

“Very me?” You question, amused, leaning your elbow on the back of the couch and resting your head on it. “How so?”

“You know,” Jeonghan gestures vaguely, “cozy, warm…” He smiles, and you’re so aware of just how close he is when he shifts to imitate your pose and finishes, “and, you know, beautiful.”

Your breath catches in spite of yourself. He flirts with you, you know this, but he’s never said anything outright like that before. His eyes begin to travel across your face, lazy and slow, the corner of his mouth lifting the longer he looks at you. His gaze lingers on your mouth, and yours lingers on his, and –

“Didn’t you say you have to stop at Soonyoung’s for something?” 

You have absolutely no clue why you decided to whisper that right now. Jeonghan pulls back a little, slow and blinking. You wince when he looks away from you.

“Oh,” he says, “yeah. Right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess I should… go.” 

You try to meet his eyes, but in a moment of shyness that is so very un-Jeonghan, he refuses to look at you as he stands up. You want to beat yourself up for saying anything – you’d meant to tease him a little, not kick him out.

“Jeonghan,” you say, and he stops making his way to the front door. He still doesn’t look at you, though, and you force your next words to come out strong. “The next time you want to see me, you can just ask. You don’t have to use Soonyoung as an excuse.” 

He looks at you now, eyes lifting from the floor, and you’re so relieved that you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“I don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, “because I want to see you, too.”

“You… do?”

You’ve never seen him like this. He seems uncertain, unsure, and you feel horrible for trying to tease him when you’re certain he’d been about to make a move. “Yes.” You nod, taking a step towards him. “Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?” His gaze is unwavering on you now.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?” 

“I think you were going to kiss me just now, and I opened my big mouth instead of just letting you do it.” 

Jeonghan’s cheeks flush pink, and you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to turn away from you. He’s embarrassed, which you’ve never seen in the weeks that you’ve known him, and it suddenly dawns on you that he probably thinks you didn’t want to kiss him. Your heart drops into your toes.

“Please kiss me, Jeonghan.”

Desperation is all you can hear as you say the words, and it would be your turn to be embarrassed if you didn’t want it so badly. Want him so badly. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to process. You’ve never seen him this speechless, either. It’s a day of firsts.

“Please.”

Your final word comes out in a plea, a near beg – another first. You don’t care. You can’t think about anything else. 

He closes the gap before you can so much as breathe another word, hands flying to your jaw as he presses his mouth to yours, fiercer than anything you could have ever dreamed of. Your hands grasp onto his hoodie as you gasp, stumbling a little, but he doesn’t let you get very far. And then you’re kissing him back, pulling him into you as close as he can go, closer, closer — and then even closer still. The way his mouth opens against yours, the way he moves as he kisses you stupid, has your knees nearly buckling underneath you.

It’s him that breaks away first. You’re breathless, and so is he, and neither of you says anything for a minute. 

“You wanted me to do that?”

You pull away to look up at him, his hands still on your face. “Only since the first day I met you, you dumbass.”

“You…”

“Yeah.”

His hands drop from your face before he pulls you with him to sit back on the couch. Your heart is racing as you wait for him to speak. 

“You like me?”

“With all due respect,” you say incredulously, “you’re literally so fucking stupid.”

Jeonghan pouts. “I thought…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you resist the urge to do it for him. “I thought you and Soonyoung…”

Your jaw drops. “Me and Soonyoung?!”

“You’re always together! And you always talk about how cute he is –”

“He is cute, Jeonghan. But I definitely haven’t been waiting for him to make out with me.”

Jeonghan groans, and he’s blushing again. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know if Soonyoung was into you, or if you were into him, because you guys get along so well, and he makes you laugh so much, and…” He shrugs. “I didn’t want to interfere if there was something going on there.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say slowly. “Did you ever just… I don’t know, ask Soonyoung if he likes me?”

Jeonghan blinks for a moment. 

“Also – do you not think you and I get along well?” You’re teasing him now, and you watch as the realization dawns on him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’re amazed yet again at the way you somehow manage to render him as bashful as this. 

You reach for his hand, tugging him closer, and he comes willingly. You lift a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear as you say, “You can make it up to me somehow, I’m sure.”

You’re pleased when he seems to take that as a challenge.

A/N: Finally a Hannie one! Thanks for waiting xx

If you read it REBLOG IT, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to my permanent taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

TAGLIST: @tae-bebe @wqnwoos @waldau @wheeboo @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Two | Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.

“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”

“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.

Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”

“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”

“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”

No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.

“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”

“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”

You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Joel had a date.

A date who wasn’t you.

Man, that fucking sucked.

Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.

The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.

Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.

It worked.

As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.

Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?

There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?

Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?

Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.

Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.

What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.

Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.

By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”

“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”

“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”

“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.

You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.

You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”

He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.

“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.

“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.

“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”

Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.

“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”

Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.

Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.

The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.

“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”

“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”

Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.

“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”

“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.

“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”

That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”

Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”

You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”

After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”

You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”

That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”

Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.

“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.

Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.

He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?

Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.

God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.

A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.

Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”

“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”

Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”

Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”

“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”

“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.

“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.

“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.

“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”

“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”

“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”

The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.

The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.

A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.

Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.

Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.

You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.

JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.

Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.

You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.

Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.

You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.

Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.

Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.

The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.

The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.

“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.

It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.

“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.

Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”

Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”

“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee@untamedheart81@anoverwhelmingdin@runningmom94@leilanixx@pedropascalfan221@lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115

[chlorinecake]

❝ TADAIMA ❞ ✦ — 𝐎.𝐒𝐓 🍙

PAIRING: Pervy Homestay Roommate Shotaro x F. Reader

GENRE: Smut, Enemies to Fuckers, Set in Japan

SYNOPSIS: While on a 2-week trip in Japan for a cultural research project, you end up boarding with the strangest man imaginable: He’s dirt rich, unemployed, and triples as a pervert…

WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, mentions of EJ from &TEAM, voyeurism kink, mutual masturbation, shotaro gets drunk at a restaurant once, use of sex toys (a vibrating dildo), handjob, clit play, kissing, switch!taro x switch!reader, minor use of the japanese language (sorry if its cringe or inaccurate lol)

WORD COUNT: 7.5k (I still don't know how that happened) — DAY 3

COLLEGE: A JOURNEY that most folks, including yourself, viewed as a grueling scam that ironically accessorized an equally crooked work-system proceeding the four mandatory years of academic suffrage.

But at the end of the day, every scam succeeded on the back of fraud, and if you were gonna get something worthwhile from your college experience, that is, beyond just a fancy diploma to hang on a wall, you’d have to adapt the same dirty playbook...

Skipping over some boring ass details here, but you decided to become a cultural studies major at your university for the sole benefit of being able to jet off around the globe once every autumn for free, and it was honestly the best.

Taking free trips so long as you tackle some pointless academic assignment almost felt like cheating... or better yet, like living life on easy mode...

Your current voyage was set to explore a place in Asia, specifically the humble city of Tokyo, Japan.

You’d be traveling alone for 2 weeks alongside a homestay family that your academic advisor arranged for you to stay with.

Brimming with excitement, you remember promptly leaving the airport with your bags secured and a camera in hand, eager to begin your overseas adventure in a foreign land!

Unfortunately though, your enthusiasm quickly waned the moment you arrived at your homestay host's doorstep, which brings me to introduce your internal eyeroll as provoked by the one and only Shotaro Osaki, a.k.a. the menacing man in his early twenties that you'd be sharing a home with until you returned back home 14 days later...

TIMESTAMP: 1日目

“Not to sound rude or anything, but I was expecting a host family...” you specified at the front door while kicking off your shoes, shocked to only find two young men occupying the large home.

“And that’s exactly what we are, silly!... Me, plus my friend Shotaro here, plus you equalsss... well, one big happy family!” Euijoo Byeon, the taller and younger of the two, chirped reassuringly, but his efforts still didn't aid your confusion.

“Correction: "Host family" is just a mainstream term, and doesn't strictly refer to full families only... kinda like in this case where I'm the actual homeowner and EJ's just a friendly freeloader,” Shotaro clarified, but you found yourself focusing on his facial features more than any of the words that came out of his mouth so far...

His pearly doe-eyes, button nose, heart-shaped lips, thick hair, and even his angular jawline... it all garnered your attention—

“Heyyy, I'm not a freeloader!” Euijoo defended himself with a forced pout, “I contribute around here pretty often with the homestay students, in case you forgot...”

“Please, you already know that everyone who steps foot under my roof is obligated to serve me in one way or another... including you, ____-chan.”

He smiled as he said those words, looking you dead in the eye with his hands in his pockets.

“Excuse me?” You asked in utter shock at his bold statement.

“Oh, c'mon... acts of service are my love language... that is... right after physical touch...” Shotaro said with a deep sigh, right before taking a few lazy steps until there was no more than a gentle push separating you two.

A brief silence filled the room until EJ helped himself to moving your suitcases from the front door, and off to another room as the sudden business reminded Shotaro to stay on track with you.

“Follow me as I take you on a brief tour of the house, please...”

His home was adorned with beautiful Japanese calligraphy paintings, elegant Shoji screens, and a stunning view of cherry blossoms in the living room. The scent of green tea roamed the halls, but the room you’d be staying in had its own scent… similar to that of cardboard… and grass...

It was like its own little secluded hideaway from the rest of the home, and you felt honored to have such a nice space all to yourself.

“I recently added this extra room to the place after my last homestay student trashed the first space… that’s why it still smells a little… earthy in here,” Shotaro said as if he'd just read your mind.

“Oh, I don’t mind the scent at all!” You replied, hoping that your gratitude was evident. “I really appreciate you even giving me this room...” your voice trailed off, but only because you noticed that Euijoo had helped himself to fully UNLOAD your luggage items now...

“Euijoo-san, thank you for carrying all of this for me, but I can take care of my belongings myself from here,” you said in the most patient tone you could muster.

“Oh, that's nonsense…” he responded with a swatting hand, “you just got off an exhausting plane ride and deserve a break... Besides, it's a joy for me to help homestay students, anyway...”

“Euijoo-san, seriously, I’ve got it,” you said more casually this time, and in a failed effort to hide the anxiety and frustration growing within you.

The tension was almost unbearable for you in this moment—

“You’ve got some pretty nice clothes, by the way, ____-chan,” the young man went on, flipping through your clothes as if they were pages in a comic book.

“T-thank you,” you said shyly, really feeling your face burn up as he slowly started to put your items into the bedroom dresser one by one.

And his hands were so meticulous, too... carefully refolding any pieces that got jumbled up on the way here... you'd otherwise be exceedingly grateful for Euijoo's help if it weren't for the eight-inch secret you were hiding in one of your suitcase compartments—

“Wait, what’s this?” Shotaro asked with raised brows, his otter-like features causing a pit to form in your stomach as he reached over EJ’s shoulder, grabbing the cylindrically wrapped up scarf from your exposed luggage.

Similarly to Euijoo's movements, Shotaro's hands began to slowly unwrap the item, and at this point, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

“Shotaro-san, don’t touch that please!” You yelped, snatching the cloth from his hand as both confused and intrigued faces surrounded you now.

Shotaro, being the menace that he was, shook his head in response, almost as if judging you for reading in such a way,,, “You know what they say about secrets, ____-chan… it’s only a matter of time before they come to light…”

His voice held a cheeky undertone that made you internally wanna kick him in his gonads, but instead, those instincts were cut off by a faint buzzing sound.

It was coming from behind the cloth you held securely in your hands, and perhaps almost too securely given how you’d just accidentally triggered the ON-button on the damned thing...

“Is that a..?” Euijoo began to ask with his own puppy-like eyes rounding innocently, but Shotaro nudged his friend's leg.

“Can you go check the mailbox? I think the package I order just arrived a few minutes ago…”

“But the mailbox is so far from here... plus, you don’t even order stuff online these days—”

“Euijoo, do as I say…” Shotaro said more sternly this time, and EJ simply chuckled awkwardly before bowing his head slightly to display apology,

“Sorry, Oniisan,” he smiled facetiously, right before standing up from where he sat and stammering out of the room.

Shotaro waited until he heard Euijoo open and close the front door of the house before saying anything else to you, which only led to you saying something first.

“NOW do you see why I said I could handle my own belongings?” You asked rhetorically, just as you turned off the toy by pressing the OFF-button through the fabric, ceasing the vibration sound that once filled the entire room.

“Yup... I see it crystal clear,” Shotaro smirked to himself before continuing, “I’ll give you your space though after you let me see what you're hiding first… promise...”

And with that, you had more than enough verbal evidence from Shotaro to confirm that he was a raging pervert...

“You... you wanna see my toy?” You asked again despite how obvious the answer was, but only because you were in utter disbelief of his shameless offer.

“Yes,” he clarified with a plain expression, poking his lips out slightly, “and then I’ll leave you alone right after I get what I want... It’s a simple condition, really…”

You flashed him a dead-pan look to which he simply shrugged, right before leaning down to dig inside your suitcase once again.

“Alright, let’s seeee… what other surprises do you have in here?… ooo, I think I feel something—”

“Okay, enough!” You said in a raised tone, making the strange man smile for reasons you didn't understand, “I’ll let you see it, okay? Just... get your hands outta there immediately!”

“No problem, missy...” he practically whispered, standing up from the ground with a proud look plastered across his now irritating face, making you feel all the more embarrassed...

Still, there was something about the awkwardness that made you feel hot all over, and you were hoping it was just because there wasn't a ceiling fan in the room..

With slow movements and a deeply exasperated exhale, you finally pulling back the cloth encasing the item, just enough for him to get a fair peak.

And to your surprise, you almost hurled with his eyes sparkling with yet another glint of excitement...

“So... you’re a dildo kinda girl, huh? A vibrating one must've been pretty pricey, though... how’d you even get past security with this thing?”

“Luck, I guess…” you muttered awkwardly, right before abruptly swatting his hand away as he reached to pull back more fabric. “Hey! You look with your eyes, mister, not your hands…”

“My apologies,” he chuckled once again, both at your words and the way your palms felt a bit clammy when you touched him...

He couldn't help himself from having dirty thoughts about you, either... your nervousness from simply showing him your sex toy was just too adorable to ignore… he wondered how nervous you’d get if you ever let him use it on you one day—

“Shotaro-san, you can leave now,” you said plainly, reminding him of his part of the deal as he clearly got lost in his thoughts on the accident...

“Okay okay, I’m going…” he said, stepping over a few clothing pieces that EJ had left scattered across the room floor while making his way to the door.

“Oh, and I thought I should mention, there’s a convenience store a few blocks from here that sells sex toys, too… specifically from the more portable variety, though…”

SHOTARO WAS QUICK to establish a list of “house rules” for you to abide by the very next day of your stay.

Needless to add, but yes, you were a stranger in his home, so of course you expected him to set boundaries for you to follow, and you respected that for the most part… or at least, that was until his proposals started to get a bit over-the-top for your taste...

TIMESTAMP: 2日目

“Anyways, curfew is 8 p.m.,” Shotaro stated while leaning against a wall in his kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as if the pose would make you take him more—

“Seriously?” You asked in utter shock, though, as per usual, he obviously wasn’t joking.

“Yes, seriously… and if any instances arise where you find yourself struggling to comply with the set curfew, you will promptly be asked to turn over your spare key privileges…”

Euijoo was once again stuck in the middle of all of this, awkwardly sipping from a bowl of soup as the tension between you grew so thick, he could cut it with a knife.

“Fine,” you shrugged, already having had enough of going back in forth with him, as this wasn’t even the first disagreement y’all had had that morning…

TIMESTAMP: 3日目

The days were flying by fast, and you hadn’t even put a dent in your list of activity plans for the trip.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on where all your time was going, but you knew you had to get out of the house soon so you could take some photos and write about your experiences for the project.

In the meantime, you simply decided to push out a few words about your homestay living experience so far, just as Shotaro, of all people, took his daily stroll through the living room, wearing nothing but a body towel that lazily sat around his waist.

It was evident that he’d just gotten out of the shower, too, especially with the way his bare feet were tracking water all over the house.

What made the whole thing even more annoying though is that you could hardly keep your eyes off of his bloody abs—

“Sorry if I’m distracting you, ____-chan,” he said in a muffled voice, standing a few feet away from you now as he made his way into the laundry room before letting the towel around his waist drop to the floor with a heavy thud, “I’ll be outta your hair in a minute…”

You almost gasped out loud at the sight of him in his squeaky clean birthday suit, lifting your laptop high enough to cover your eyes… anddd to cover your clearly flustered face, too.

“Y-yea, no worries,” you replied with a tinge of discomfort in your voice as the tiny grunts left his lips echoed off of the walls, and you assumed it was because he was doing a heavy load of laundry, “take your time…”

SHOTARO WAS SUCH a shameless weirdo, and that’s a heavy statement coming from someone like you…

Admittedly, you’ve met your fair share of odd people in the past, but never someone like this… never a person who was so strict to their own rules, but completely ignorant of other people's boundaries…

And to top it all off, he went as far as to task you with mopping the floor up after his promiscuous little water mess, dubbing it your “reasonable service” to assist him as a guest under his roof…

TIMESTAMP: 4日目

Knock, knock, knock.

With loud pounds, Shotaro’s balled fist clashed from behind your sliding bedroom door.

“____-chan? It’s almost 9:00am, aren’t you awake yet?”

“Uh… y-yea, just give me a sec!” You called out, only having gotten up about five minutes ago to brush your teeth and change out of your pajamas.

“I’m sorry? I can’t hear you very well…”

“I said just give me a sec, sir, I’m almost done!”

“Okay, I’m coming in—”

“Shotaro-san, no!” Your voice blared from where you stood, but it was already too late… Shotaro was slowly sliding the door open, and a pang of embarrassment overcame you for a plethora of reasons…

(1) Your bed was unmade, (2) the floor was decorated with stuff that should’ve been neatly tucked away in either your drawer, closet, or suitcase by now, and (3) you were only wearing pants at this point, having to cover your bare chest with your forearms to hopefully avoid flashing him.

“Did you run out of clean bras to wear or something?” Is the first thing he asks you, and you internally face-palmed yourself.

“W-what? No, I’m just gonna wear this one again, it’s fine—”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted you, “I’ll start a fresh load of laundry for you right away…”

“Shotaro-san, I sincerely appreciate your kindness, but I don’t mind bringing my clothes to the laundromat down the street…” you clarified as he had his back turned to you, and you took this as an opportunity to throw on a baggy T-shirt real quick.

“Look, I’m unemployed for the season, so helping with house chores is the least I can do to stay busy…” he replied, making you roll your eyes in memory of the stunt he pulled yesterday, “oh, and are your tits still hanging out or can I turn around now?”

“Oh- right… yea, you’re all good,” you stammered as he turned around to see your face as he spoke, and you helped him by picking up some of your clothes from off the ground, too.

“But uh… I also wanted to apologize for disrespecting your home recently, sir… I’m not usually this disorganized, though… I guess I’ve just been a little tired…”

“Oh, I can tell…” he replies in a voice that makes you quirk a brow at him.

“Wait… you can?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “your face looks bloated, your eyes are all puffy, and you walk around as if you’re six months pregnant… it’s honestly pretty depressing to witness…”

“Oh…” is all you managed to say.

Usually, you’d be a bit offended if someone said you looked tired, but from Shotaro’s perspective, it seemed like he expressed those thoughts out of concern.

“Y’know, the best part about not having a demanding job or being in college is that you have more time to take care of yourself… both outside and within…”

“Okay?” You replied redundantly, not sure on where he was going with his “Shotaro Wisdom.”

“I just think that you need a traditionally cooked Japanese meal to soothe your jet-lagged bones... it’ll be my treat…”

“Shotaro-san, my diet is just fine… and I get that you’re concerned, but you really don’t have to do all of that for me…”

“Well I insist... You spend all day and night either bound to your bed or roaming my kitchen, anyways, and that’s no way to fully experience the beauty of this city. You’ve gotta be more adventurous, ____-chan… otherwise, what’re you gonna write about in your cultural project, huh? Your adorable homestay host? My cherry blossom garden?”

Slam.

He dropped the dirty clothes basket on the hard wooden floor, and you’re just now realizing that you’d followed him all the way from your bedroom and into the infamous washing room.

Though, Shotaro in all his oddness was right about you… about you not being adventurous enough on this once in a lifetime opportunity to travel… and you know it was only out of shyness that you’d been hermiting for the past few days, but you really did need to get out more if you wanted any chance at writing a good paper—

“Can you pass me the detergent from up there please?”

“Sure,” you chirped, standing up on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf, and Shotaro couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Thanks, pretty,” he said, and you fight with a bull’s strength to not make a face at the random pet name.

“N-no problem,” you finally replied, resting your hands at your hips as you watched him load the washing machine.

“So, what color are you wearing later?” He asked, and the question reminds you of his offer to take you out to eat.

“Ugh, I’ll let you know when I decide, but right now I’m thinking something either black or grey… what made you ask?”

“Because I wanna match with you,” he responded shamelessly, “That way, if we cross paths with any weirdos while we’re out, they won’t approach us because they’ll assume I’m your boyfriend...”

“Righttt…” you went on, thinking to yourself how weird these people must be if even HE’S calling them weird… “anything else you wanna say before I go and get dressed though?”

“Yes, actually... try to be ready by 14:00 p.m… my favorite chef’s on duty during mid-evening’s and you must try his dumpling soup recipe!…”

A few hours later, you found yourself on a tour of Tokyo beside Shotaro, taking photos of local shrines, indulging in delicious street food, and just simply enjoying the aura of the vibrant city together.

And as on par with his plans, you and Shotaro arrived at the traditional Japanese restaurant just in time to be served by his favorite chef.

Though, it's not like effort went very far once Shotaro got to drinking, which left you thoroughly entertained by his tipsy charisma.

“Heyy, these chopsticks are almost as big as your dildo back home,” Shotaro giggled while eating beside you, cheeks a flushed hue from the warmth radiating throughout his entire body...

I wonder how useful he’d be in this state if any alleged weirdo's approached us later on, you thought to yourself...

“Mhm… looks about seven inches to me,” you responded plainly, right before stuffing your mouth full with another flavorful soup dumpling.

“Wanna see how many I can stuff inside you before it doesn’t fit?” He went on to ask, eyes widening as if he just suggested something totally normal.

“Maybe another time,” you smiled half-heartedly, patting him gently on his head, “when you’re less drunk on… well, whatever the name of that drink you just had was…”

“It’s called shōchū, ____… say it with me!” He chirped with a raised hand to the sky.

“Shōchū,” you repeated again with him, a small smile creeping up your face.

“Yikes, your pronunciation needs a little work…”

“My apologies, Taro… I’ll make sure I work on that for you…”

“Aww… you’re giving me a nickname?” He pouted, leaning his head on you. “I had a dream about you the other night and you called me that same name… it was pretty explicit, though…”

“You can tell me about it later…”

“Okay… what do you think of the food?”

“It’s really tasty, actually. Thanks for taking me out, I really needed this…”

“You’re welcome… thanks for letting me lean on you, too… most people push me away when I do that…”

“And by most people, you mean Euijoo-san, right?”

“Yes… he claims to dislike touch with his words, but he genuinely loves it… I remember one time we went clubbing together, and a really hot girl kept trying to dance on him… he awkwardly pushed her away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it once we got home…”

“Interesting… do you always overshare like this when you’re drunk?”

“Not like I’d remember anyways,” he shrugged, “can you tell me a secret about something, though? To even out the playing field?”

“Huh…. This isn’t really a secret, but I rarely admit this… I have a tendency to judge people before getting to know them…”

He was quiet at first, stirring the foggy broth in his bowl with a chopstick before asking quietly, “Like you judged me?”

“Yes, like I judged you… you seemed… I don’t know… weird at first? And a bit overbearing, too…”

“All those things are true though,” he giggled.

“Sure, but… never mind, you’re right… I still think you’re weird…”

“Oh yeah? Just wait til I tell you about—”

“Later, Taro… I’d love to hear all about it then…”

TIMESTAMP: 8日目

You and Shotaro developed a quirky friendship with each other, and it was quite refreshing in contrast to your initially rocky start with him.

He was a pervert. You caught onto the way his eyes watched you through the cracks of doors, or fell to glance between your legs every time the chance was made available. Always caught him going through your things under the excuse that “if it’s under my roof, it’s under my control.”

So, you made clear to him a few of your own boundaries, and luckily, he agreed to respect them… for the most part…

The rules followed a simple list…

1. “No more sneaking and spying on me.”

2. “No more going through my things.”

3. “No more walking around naked when I’m around.”

4. “No more weird questions about my sex life.”

In the last four days, he followed you to the bathroom three times, asked about your sex toy twice, and walked around the house half-naked only once… you’d say that was a good sign of improvement, honestly…

You kept yourself busy by annotating every relevant detail and observation from your time in Japan this far, and you were slowly starting to gain reassurance in your abilities to produce an excellent cultural project in time for the deadline.

TIMESTAMP: 12日目

One evening, after yet another day full of laughter and cultural escapades alongside Shotaro, you and him found yourselves lounging on the tatami mats in his living room, enjoying a bowl of miso soup, stewed meat, and some of Shotaro’s homemade onigiri.

Earlier that day, you and him were busy cooking in the kitchen together, where he even shared with you a few of his not-so secret secret Osaki family recipes.

He took the honors of playing photographer for you though as you offered to tuck the seaweed wraps around the triangular mounds of sticky rice.

“Look at you, you’re a natural at this, pretty,” Shotaro complimented you while snapping a few more pictures, and you shook your head at the comical tone of his voice, “now all there’s left to work on is pronouncing ‘onigiri’ properly!”

“Ha ha, you’re so hilarious,” you replied sarcastically, making him chuckle slightly at his own sense of humor, or perhaps, the lack thereof.

There was one moment in particular though that really got your heart racing between him… it was when he scooted himself behind you as you stirred the bubbling pot of miso soup, guiding your wrist with his delicate hand.

“You have to stir carefully from the bottom ____-chan, or else you’ll break up the chunks of tofu we just neatly cut up,” Shotaro whispered from above you, given the height difference, and you’ve never heard his voice sound so calm til now.

He let you lead your own hand for a bit just to check that you had the stirring motion down on your own, and he smiled softly once you did it correctly.

“Like this?” You asked, feeling a lot more nervous than expected while he was so close to you, despite how the other night at the restaurant and bar you found it much less nervous inducing when Shotaro kept leaning his head all over you.

“Mhm… just like that,” he hummed, right before his warmth left you as he walked away to return back to cutting up the stew meat…

Since that moment, the air was filled with an electric tension that neither of you had acknowledged yet as the sun began to set, casting its warm glow through the shoji screens.

In the middle of Shotaro telling you a story about his childhood though, the jingle of keys sounded at the front door as EJ invited himself to join you two once his shift at the local bakery ended.

“I come bearing treats!” He smiled vibrantly, right after bowing his head slightly to show his respects.

“Euijoo-san, how nice of you to join us,” Shotaro said in a corny accent, “how was work?”

“Exhausting… especially because I lost track of time and missed my lunch break…”

“Awww, bummer,” you pouted, “I’ll fix you a plate while you wash up then…”

“Ahhh, thanks a billion, ____-chan… since my own best bro doesn’t seem to care about me anymore,” the young man sulked playfully, and Shotaro widened his eyes in confused offense.

“What d’you mean I don’t care about you? I literally made you onigiri with my bare freaking hands, you ungrateful fart—”

“Acts of service may be YOUR love language, but it isn’t mine,” EJ reminded his friend before dramatically crossing his arms and walking out of the room, “remember that the next time you insult me, Shotaro-san… hmph…”

A few more minutes passed before the third member of your uncanny trio settled down to eat with you guys, provoking you to take a deep breath, summoning courage within yourself.

“Euijoo-san, Shotaro-san… you both have truly made my time in Tokyo one to remember,” you began, watching them shyly nod as your words touched the tenderness of their hearts.

“But,” you went on, voice catching slightly as you tried to keep their attention, “my time with you all is dwindling, and by that, I mean tomorrow is my last day here…”

You watched as the expressions on their faces shifted from joyful camaraderie to sudden surprise, and you couldn’t shake the guilt ones bulding up inside you now.

They had made the Japanese lifestyle seem so inviting for you that just acknowledging that you’d be departing soon hurt…

“No way, it’s been two weeks already?” Euijoo exclaimed with shock, his chopsticks paused mid-air. “Can’t your school let you stay a little longer? I’m sure Shotaro doesn’t mind opening his house to you for an extension…”

“I really wish I could take that offer, Euijoo-san,” you replied, offering a soft smile to hopefully ease his emotions, “I just have to get back for school… plus, changing my flight dates so late wouldn’t be a wise move on my part…”

Shotaro looked down for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his sullen, otter-like features. “It’s been so nice having you around here,” he said quietly, his tone laced with something that you couldn’t quite decipher, but you knew it was different from his usual chipper.

After dinner, the three of you tried to shift the energy by sharing a few more stories and cleaning up the kitchen together, your harmonious laughter echoing beneath the dim house lighting.

Excusing yourself, you eventually retreated to your bedroom after everything was tidied up, but your mind remained a swirling sea of freshly acquired memories of the past few days.

You were gonna take a walk to clear your head and sight-see for what might be your last chance, but your plans were cut short once you realized it was past your curfew, the clock reading 8:00pm on the dot, and you respected Taro too much now to disregard his rules…

Sighing, you closed the door to your room, the world outside faded away, leaving you only to your thoughts and the slightly improved clutter of personal items that you’d worry about packing up tomorrow morning.

You were too emotionally drained to do anything in this moment, other than something to take the edge off… and quickly…

Across the hall, Shotaro sat in the living room, wishing he could shake off the heaviness in his chest. He had grown so fond of you over the last days, your laughter, your genuine curiosity about everything around you and your interest in his culture... The sound of the sliding door to your bedroom clicking shut reached his ears.

“No more sneaking around and spying on me,” your voice faintly resounded from a few days ago in the back of his mind, but a certain impulse washed over him, and he couldn’t help but draw himself to your room, once step at a time.

And it came to no surprise that the clicking sound he heard wasn’t even from the door, but better yet, your suitcase latch after your brief search for the infamous cylinder wrapped in cloth.

You still hadn’t learned how to properly lock the doors behind yourself again, which is why you set that no peeking rule down in the first place… you knew secrets enticed Shotaro, but in this moment, you just focused on taking care of yourself… just like Shotaro said, both outside and within…

Kneeling down, Shotaro edged himself towards the door, where a slender crack allowed him a stingy look inside.

The soft glow of your dresser lamp illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows along your bedsheets and your now half-naked body.

You wore nothing but a baggy T-shirt and panties as you got positioned into your back, legs spread just enough for Shotaro to see everything… your graceful and seren silhouette, and your pulsating core… it all caught his attention, and it all made him all the more aroused…

Luckily for the both of you, EJ had locked himself up in his room to wash off his long day of work, and the sound of the water running faintly in the background acted as a timer for you to finish by.

You began to slid your panties down your hips, each motion fluid and unhurried as Shotaro's poor little heart raced, quickening the pace of his breath.

Slowly caressing over your skin with one hand, you reached for the dildo with the other, and unbeknownst to you, Shotaro was just a few feet away from you, untying his pants as his semi-hard dick sprung out, almost hitting the door.

You just hoped that Shotaro had busied himself somewhere in the house so he wouldn’t find you like this… though, once the head of the toy circled your clit before you slowly lined the head up with your entrance, your mind couldn’t shake the thought of him…

The thought of how he’d feel inside you, or the thought of his hands pinning yours over your head and to the mattress…

Finally inserting the toy all the way, you felt your breath hitch as you started sliding the dildo in and out of your cunt, already coating it in your slimy juices.

The room was silent except for the sound of your own soft gasps bouncing off the walls. Shotaro licked a stripe of spit up his hand before cupping the base of his cock with his palm, already too caught up in the private world of his thoughts to care about how perverted of him this was.

The way he stroked himself mirrored the pace that you set for the dildo as you kept fucking yourself, circling your hips against the mattress as you somehow widened your legs even more.

And by now, Shotaro was in visual heaven, despite the fact that he hated how slow you were going with it… he hated that he couldn’t make himself go any faster until you did.

“Nghh~” a needy mewl ripped from under your breath, and Shotaro felt himself shiver at the way you lifted your hips into the toy now, gripping at your tit with your free hand.

Words can’t begin to describe how badly he wished he could cup your breasts in his hands…

Your hole was impressively taking all of the toy’s girth, but from the looks of it, your pussy was still suffocating around it, being stuffed to the brim as your walls quivered in ecstasy.

So that’s how she likes to be fucked, Shotaro thought to himself, and your lips ironically started to cry out yes as he kept his grip firm around his shaft.

A stream of your own arousal dripped unto the sheets, coating the dildo and your pussy lips in a delicious shine, and Shotaro swore he would’ve sold his soul just to get a taste—

“Shit,” he swore, a free hand flying to cover his mouth as he can barely keep his sounds in now.

You picked up the pace, and he pumped his cock even faster, knowing better than anyone that his rough fingers didn’t feel half as good as your pussy probably does.

He watched the way your tightness gripped at the dildo every time it hit that special spot inside you, and at this point, you were too turned on to pretend like you don’t hear him.

When he had cursed, you noticed his boba eyes peeking at you, and although your first instinct was to shut your legs and scold him, you let the moment take its course…

“Taro,” you said in a seductive voice… one that comes out naturally because of the state you’re in, “you’ve never been very sneaky, y’know that?”

His round eyes nearly popped out of his head at your offer, and he was torn between whether he should pretend like this never happened or just adhere to your lust-laced words.

“Q-quit being shy, Taro,” you whined out again, stammering over your own words as the dildo started to vibrate, “just get in here before I- fuck... ch-change my mind...”

Shotaro could hardly believe his own ears once you announced your scandalous invitation to him, and doesn't think he's ever put his dick away so quickly, either...

Carefully sliding the door open, he slipped through the narrow gap he provided for himself before locking the door back behind him and joining you on the bed.

You were definitely feeling a little less bold now that he was barely a few inches away from you, but the ways his eyes flickered between glancing at your face and then your sloppy cunt motivated you somehow—

“Want some help with that?” He offers quietly, and you respond by slipping the thick toy from your hole, a wet pop filling the room as you lazily held it towards him.

And although his face still appears like a cross between shocked and dumbfounded, his body posture is confident as he takes the toy from your grasp, caressing your exposed thigh just to see you shiver.

He give you one more glance for approval as if your consent wasn't already obvious enough before sliding the tip of the toy between your slick folds, but he's applying a lot more pressure than you did when handling it... not that you had a problem with it anyways...

“You're so sensitive,” he chuckled slightly, watching the way your torso clenched as he pressed the dildo against your entrance, and you're suddenly feeling shy yourself now-- “And pretty,” he continued, complimenting the view of your beautiful bare body before him, the purest look of lust upon both your faces, “so, so pretty...”

A soft moan escaped your mouth as he pushed the toy all the way inside you now, and his method of pumping you felt way better than what you usually did for yourself.

“T-Taro,” you whined, watching as he continued to fuck your cunt open with the dildo, fully focused on pleasing you... he was so fascinated by the way your walls clenched around the silicone, lewd noises filling the room as you grew even hazier in your head.

“What is it, ____?” His voice came out deeply as his gaze barely met yours from behind his neatly cut bangs, his cold hand pressing firmly on the bulge in your stomach, as created by the long toy inside you.

“T-touch yourself,” you whimpered, reaching down to grab his wrist as the pressure he applied became too much for you to speak over, “while you keep touching me...”

That's all it took for him to slowly get to work on shimmying down his pants again, and single-handedly at that. The tip of his cock was sore with a throbbing need as he took his shaft in his free palm, stroking it to the same pace that he set for the dildo inside you.

And his moans were joining yours now, his starved out teeth biting at his lower lip as he continued gliding the toy in and out of your pussy, making your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you.

You imagined that the dildo was his cock as you threw your head back against the pillows, closing your eyes while he did the same by imaging you were responding this way from taking his cock, fucking the pathetic silicone into you just like his hips would.

And as badly as the intrusive thoughts were telling him to toss the toy and just fuck you properly himself, he knew there was a better way to help you get past the sexual frustration of not coming... and he didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t completely down for…

“Play with your clit for me, baby,” Shotaro slurred while speeding up the movements of his hand pumping his length, and you adhered to his words immediately, sliding your hand down to rub at your sensitive spot just like he told you to.

“That's it baby,” he sighed, chest heaving as he felt himself reaching the point of no return, “you're close, aren't you pretty?”

“S-so close,” you winced desperately, and it only takes a few more thrusts of his hand and circles of your own finger before you were falling over the edge, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to keep your moans in.

And your eyes are pricking with tears given how good the stimulation felt, but you knew Shotaro hadn’t reached his climax yet.

With the little energy you had meddling within your system, you sat up to meet him where he sat, the dildo still jammed inside your pussy as you pulled his face to kiss you, and the contact was hungry… Shotaro’s own mouth gaping open to groan as you kept your grip tight around his neck while looking deeply into his eyes.

He was a panting mess now, and you wanted to help him feel just as good as he had made you feel.

“____, you don’t have to—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted his choked out sentence, kissing him once again as you moved your hand to take the place his around his shaft, “let me return the favor, baby…”

Although a bit delayed, Shotaro eventually nodded in compliance, resting one of his free hands behind him to brace his weight on the bed and his other free hand at you ass where he spanked you slightly.

“B-bounce on it,” his voice came out, and a bit strained in tone as he spanked you a little harder this time, reeling a soft whine out of you, “p-please baby, ride that dildo while you jerk my co— holy fuckk…”

You were still so sensitive in this moment, so the overstimulation was insane once you started grinding against the toy, lifting your hips to ride it as he watched with lust-ridden eyes.

And your delicate hands were doing such a good job of pumping him, too, stroking his length at just the right pace while paying extra attention to the head of his cock, the part that you knew would make him feel the best.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that, pretty,” he praised, and you kissed him instead of saying anything, bouncing so hard now that even the bed is starting to squeak beneath you two.

And the sound made Shotaro smirk… the sound of your juices squelching around the toy… of your heart beating fast behind your chest… the gentle meals escaping you, and the sound of your hand stroking him to heaven—

“Fuck!” He suddenly cried out, as quietly as he could as to not alarm EJ, and that’s when you knew he had finally reached his climax.

Breaking from his lips, you reached behind yourself to grab the scarf you used to wrap up the toy and held it over the top of his cock, just in time for his pearly spurts of his release to fill up the cloth.

Your warm hand slowly pumped the girth of his shaft, continuing to milk him dry as his hand gripped your hips tightly at the feeling, and you’re certain you’d have a bruise there later from his force.

And there is was again… Shotaro’s infamous smile as he sighed beneath his breath, releasing his grip on your hip while looking into your eyes now.

“Sorry I messed up your scarf,” he said plainly, and you can’t help but smile at his remark.

“Eh, it’s alright,” you returned, taking the bundle of fabric from his cock and holding it in your hand, “you’re in charge of laundry duty, anyways…”

Both of your cheeks were as warm as fresh baked milk bread now as you awkwardly lifted your hips off the dildo, the slimy object falling from your hole with a gentle pop as you took the cum rag and wrapped the toy in it, too.

“So…,” he began, voice returning to its usual pitch as you helped shimmy his pants back up, “do you always cum that hard, or was that orgasm special just for me?”

“Shut up,” you scorned playfully, nudging his shoulder slightly to which he chuckled alongside you.

But that’s when you both noticed it… the sound of the water running had stopped, and you’re sure it hasn’t been running for a while.

The two of you exchange worried looks as your ears keen in on the sounds behind the door, if any at all…

“Should I just…?” Shotaro started to ask while getting up from the bed, but you placed a hand at his thigh, keeping him in place.

Step, step, step.

Euijoo’s house slippers slid across the floor as he made his way to your bedroom door, the silhouette of his frame being clear as day behind the slightly opaque door, and you wonder just how much he can see from his point of view.

“Hey, is Shotaro-san in there with you?” He asked, visibly tucking his hands in his pajama pants pockets, “I heard the bed creaking, and he has a strict ‘NO-SEX IN THE HOUSE’ policy…”

“Yes, he’s in here—”

“We weren’t having sex.”

You and Shotaro’s of your voices came out at the same time, and by this point, EJ is really confused, even though both of your sentences were 100% the honest truth.

“Right,” is all the poor boy says before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction, “just make sure you end your little sleepover in time for me to get my work clothes washed by tomorrow morning…”

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone reading this fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 3 of my Kinktober Event !! Also, if you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

[idyllcy]

you make me wanna make ya fall in love

word count: 1.97k || EMT Leon || slightly ooc + flirting (HIPAA violation)

summary: the 2000s called, they want their romcom plot back

"I'm actually gonna pass out." You sit on the couch, blinking rapidly as your head goes light.

"I called 911 already, so hang in there, alright?!" Ashley stays connected to the call, holding you up as you groan, stomach caving in on itself and your eyes giving out. Oh, god, is this how you die? You focus on breathing through your mouth, ignoring the way Ashley's voice is reduced to ringing and the way you're sweating buckets. Ew. Maybe you should've— oh. this is because you didn't eat, huh? It is 8pm. Yeah, this one's on you. Maybe the heavens will be nice and let a nice hot EMT show up to your door and save your ass— yeah, tough luck.

You can't believe you're about to pass out and all you can think about is men. You're literally failing the Bechdel test. What are you? Some poor girl in a teenage romcom? You're not even a teenager.

You close your eyes for some shut-eye, disrupted when you're shaken awake, blinking slowly as you catch sight of Ashley first, holding her chest in relief when you stare at her.

Then, you notice him—

Beautiful blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, arms hard as a rock, you might've just died and landed in heaven. Are you in heaven? Surely you must be. This man looks so gorgeous it's incredible. You have to be in heaven right now. You blink at him with doe-eyes, confusion visible on your face. Ashley's here, so you're not in heaven. Did you just happen to have a super hot EMT show up to your door like you had been imagining? Oh, god, are you... psychic? This is a revelation! This is insane! You have to—

No, seriously. You're not in a romcom. Can the narrator stop describing it like it's some sort of a romcom? The 2000s called, they want their cheesy romcom plotline back.

"Fucking hell." You groan, shifting against the wall. "How long was I out?"

"Ten minutes." The man reads. "You're just low in blood sugar. We have some orange juice, would you like that?"

"Yeah. Sure." You furrow your brows. "God, wow, count on my body to shut down without sugar."

"It happens." He thanks his coworker for the glass, holding it to your lips. "Tilt, please."

You tilt your head back slightly to press your lips to the glass, drinking it as you lean back to lick your lips, offering to take the glass from him as your arms start cooperating. "I can do it."

"Best not to." He nods. "Just finish the glass. We'll stay until your blood sugar rises."

"Isn't it almost immediate?"

"Takes around 15 minutes."

You raise a brow at Ashley, who shakes her head, and you finish the rest of the glass, watching as Leon checks your stats.

"How often does this happen..." You glance at his nameplate. "Leon?"

"More often than you'd think." He hums, tilting his head at you as Ashley talks to the other worker about your insurance. "Let me guess, you forgot to eat?"

"Yeah. My body stops feeling hunger after a certain point." You hum. "It's not super good, huh?"

"Yeah. Try to have some candy or juice throughout the day. It helps." He nods. "College student life, huh?"

You tilt your head. "How old are you?"

"Been a few years since school." He nods. "Your blood sugar's back to normal, sugar."

You hold your hand over your mouth, raising a brow at him. "That definitely breaks some sort of work protocol."

He smiles, sneaking you a candy from his pocket with a wink.

Huh. Hard caramel.

"Are you alright?" Ashley rests a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a thumbs up.

"All good." You lean against the wall to get up. "I should eat, though."

Leon grabs your arm, helping you up. "Definitely. Have something high in sugar or carbs."

"Will do, Leon." You nod. "Wishing you an uneventful work day. May no emergency be absolutely awful."

"Thank you. Those days are the best."

You send them off as Ashley starts nagging about not eating, and you pout as you lock eyes with her, door locked, ambulance gone.

"Yeah, he was hot."

"YEAH, HE WAS."

You forget about him, though. You start popping candy throughout the day, same brand as the one Leon had given you, your lips curled upwards sweetly when it hits your tongue. It's not food, but at least you won't be passing out because your blood sugar's low again.

You're also never going to see him again, so it's fine if you carry a piece of him around with you.

Except you do. You see him at the EMT booth at a local concert, Ashley in your arms because there's something wrong with her this time. (You really ought to start taking care of yourselves, huh?)

"Ah, sugar." Leon smiles. "Friend this time?"

"Yes." You set her down as he checks up on her. "Is she okay?"

"Seems fine. Just needs some water. Dehydration. How long you been out there?"

"Since morning." You glance at the venue. "Didn't eat either, though I've been having candy."

"That's not good for you, sugar." He hands Ashley a bottle of water, sending her off with you. "Go grab some food."

You watch as he fishes out a twenty from his pocket, blinking as he holds it out to you.

"I can't take that from you, sir."

"Nonsense. Concert food is expensive. It's on me." He smiles.

"You're still breaking workplace rules, I see." You rummage through your pockets, taking Leon's hand as you place a caramel in his hand. "As a thank you."

"I'm sure it'll be delicious later." He smiles. "Now, off you go. We've got quite a line."

"Wouldn't dream of holding you up, Leon." You lead Ashley to the side by the crowds, waiting for her to grab a drink before pulling her to grab something to eat. You pay for her food first, setting Ashley with the rest of your friends before waving to get something of your own.

"Get his number!" She manages to yell as you disappear into the crowd.

Now that's breaking protocol.

Yet, you use the remainder of Leon's money to get him something to eat, waiting for the line to dissipate slightly before handing him a drink.

"For me?"

"It's got... liquid IV in it." You scrunch your nose. "Hopefully that's not a scam."

"Not completely." He takes it from you, pinching at the straw to mix it. "Did you eat?"

"I was about to."

He glances at his coworker and then the intermission.

"That'd be bad, Kennedy." The woman next to him warns.

Leon sighs. "Have fun eating."

"Thank you again." You grin.

"Ah, and for dessert." He reaches for your hand, placing another candy in it. "A hard caramel."

"I'm starting to think you have a thing for caramels, Leon." You raise a brow, taking two steps back before throwing a wave his way. "I'll pay you back later!"

You grab dinner with the rest of your friends, waving bye to them when they leave to continue, Ashley making sure that you've got candy on you before she's gone. You have one final singer that you'd like to see before you leave the event. You're glad you live close to the venue. You could probably walk back or uber if you were really desperate. Though, you wonder just how long the EMT are staying.

You find yourself mixed into the crowd as you wait, jumping when your favorite artist finally appears, cheering with everyone else. You don't blame the rest of them for retiring early. You're the only one who listens to this artist anyway. The setlist has you jumping, cheering at the live vocals, yelling your heart out with the lyrics, and when the set finishes, the sun's almost down. It'd be smart of you to head out at this point.

You make a turn to head back, popping the caramel in your mouth, stopping in your tracks when a man blocks your way.

"Where ya off to, sweetheart?"

"...Oh, you know." You smile, nodding to excuse yourself.

"Need a ride home?"

"Truly, it's alright—"

"I insist."

You wrack your brain for a solution, yelping when you feel hands on your waist instead, pulling you backwards. Your back is flush against someone's chest, smile on his lips as you blink. Sure hope it's not some other creep.

"Hey, you good bro? Had one too many to drink? I suggest the EMT tent."

You let out a sigh in relief, watching as the guy notices the uniform and scrambles.

"Thank you." You turn around, smile on your lips as Leon nods.

"You're just too lovely, sugar. Gotta keep those flies off of ya." He nods. "You feeling alright?"

You nod.

"Gone all quiet on me?" He tilts his head. "Alright, up you go."

You yelp as he lifts you into his arms effortlessly, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the crowd. He presses his forehead to yours to check your temperature, looking to the side when you don't react at all.

"You good?"

"I'm fine, Leon. You didn't need to." You let him take your vitals, the tent practically empty now that the concert was finishing up. His coworker nods at him and heads out, and leaves you with Leon. That's gotta be illegal in some way. There is no way a law is not being broken right there. Aren't they both supposed to get off at the same time? Is that?? legal? Is their shift over?

"You seem fine." He kneels at your chair, fingers on your wrist as he takes your heartbeat. "Heart's a little fast, though."

"Yeah?" You mumble. You're sure you look embarrassed beyond belief right now, so you opt for sucking on the caramel in your mouth.

You're not surprised he takes notice. "Actually, I think my head's spinning just a little. Must be the lack of sugar. You got any on you?"

"Well, I kind of ate my last one..." You mumble, sticking your tongue out with the candy.

"I don't mind."

"Yeah?" You suck on the candy.

"Of course not, sugar." He leans in, tilting his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, who am I to say no?"

You let him kiss you, tongue with the caramel offered to him, sugar on your lips and his from it, though you would argue that the only reason the candy seemed to taste so good was because of him. You tilt your head to angle better, Leon's hands finding yours on the chair, pushing himself to you with a hum in his throat, tongue in your mouth as he steals the caramel from you. You don't mind. You might've just tasted a slice of heaven of your own.

You pant, tongue stuck out and mouth open as Leon shows you the candy on his tongue, smiling.

"You got a ride home, sugar?"

"You gonna kidnap me?" You raise a brow, licking your lips for whatever remnant of him is left on you.

"Not with this pretty lady, no." He smiles.

"Breaking work protocol again, I see."

"I'm off duty." He glances to the side as the new shift arrives, and Leon offers a hand to help you up. "Don't worry, sugar, you can pass out on my car. I've got all the candy you could want."

"Hm..." You tap your chin, taking his hand as he pulls you with him, not letting go.

"Hm what?"

"How about we grab brunch sometimes nearby? Just to make sure my sugar levels don't drop from forgetting to eat?" You tilt your head, watching as Leon tilts his head back to you.

"Oh, sugar. You don't even need to ask."

[xan-izme]

Dubble Life (ACTSV x Reader x Batfam) 3

A/n: I forgot to mention that the universe reader is in is earth-42. So, the Prowler is Miles, but he switches with Aaron here and there. and reader has the same last name as Miles.

Part 2, Part 4

Summary: Life with the Waynes so far was pretty good. Damian is still being a brat, so reader decides to be a good big sister. Someone from the past shows their face. In the need of readers help, for Spider-woman.

"I win!" Tim couldn't help but smirk in triumph. You stare at the 'Game over' on your screen. "Nah, nah. You gotta be cheating! Bro what is this!" This was the third time you have lost street fight with Tim.

"You two are acting like children." Damian spoke, watching two play video games for almost 2 hours. You rolled your eyes and gave Damian a look. "Cuz we are. You're like what, 9?" Tim chuckled as he packed his things.

"I am 12!" Damian argued. "Boy, like that makes any difference." Damian began to argue with you, you just stared down at him an announced you were getting a drink from the kitchen. You poured yourself a drink. Suddenly, your Spidey senses were warning you. You quickly turn around, just to see Damian. You scoffed.

It was funny how your Spidey senses always acted up when it came to Damian. You wondered if he wanted to hurt you so you couldn't take the Wayne throne. You turned back and continued to take a gulp from your cup. you paused for a moment before glancing to Damian you was eating a snack that Alfred made.

You thought that maybe the reason that you two haven't fully gotten along was due to both of you not even trying. So why not be the bigger person and try to be nice.

You slide yourself to the table Damian was at and set yourself in front of him. The boy frowns as he sees the smirk you had.

"What do you want, you bug."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. If only he really knew.

"Look, demon. I think we haven't really gotten the chance to bond as siblings." You leaned in with a smile. Damian looked at you with distaste. "Did father put you up to this? What are you planning Davies?"

"No, I ain't planning nothing. What's wrong with wanning to hang out with you?" You arched your brow and leaned back into your chair. Damian sighed "I don't have time for you. I have work to do. So, if you'll excuse me." Damian stood from his chair and walked away.

"Alright, if you change your mind my door is open!" Literally, you leave your door open sometimes. You just forget to close it. A habit to try and get rid of.

After a few days. Damian did come to your room.

"Oh, look who's here. Is there something my little demon needs? hugs, kisses? whatever sisterly love can provide?" You smirked as you watched him give you a look of disgust.

"I don't want your useless affection. Father wants us to go with him to a meeting. Please wear something that doesn't look like a Hippe made it." With that, Damian walked out. He paused and took a glance of a picture you had hung on the wall; it was of a woman. Your mother no doubt.

You sighed and got yourself ready. Wondering why the hell Bruce wanted you to come along.

"Hey Alfred. Do you know why Bruce needs me at the meeting today?" you asked. Alfred handed you a drink you requested for

"It is a meeting at the Wayne enterprise. You will mistily be there to observe the working environment and understand what the Wayne family is about." Alfred escorted you down and helped you fix your dress up, so it was perfect.

Bruce couldn't help but smile as he watched you come down those stairs in one of the dresses Dick picked for you.

Once you reached the bottom, Bruce took your hand into his "You look beautiful."

Your smiled. Your smile faltered.

Remembering the time, your mother had a date with some man you didn't approve of.

It was cold out. Your mother was going to be with a man named Jim Bolton. You were happy she was happy. But you didn't trust this Jim guy. You asked, practically begged your uncle Jeff to do a background run on the man.

Jim was married at the age of 22, awfully young. He got divorced and has two daughters 3-4 years younger than you. he also had 3 DUI's. Your mother has told you he doesn't drink anymore. But you still didn't like him.

You watched your mother walk down the stairs, with a red dress on, her hair fixed up. Shinny jewels on. She looked amazing. You already saw her as a goddess, this just added onto the beauty you already saw in her. You couldn't help but look at her fondly.

"Okay, remember to lock all the doors. Your uncle Aarons going to be here in an hour to watch you and- . . . what?" Your mother noticed that small smile on your face. You were being silent. Just staring at her.

You chuckled and held her hands to yours "Nothing. . . you just look beautiful."

You missed her. You've been trying to not think too much of her. Not think of the time you two spent. Not think of her hugs. Her smile, her voice.

You have night terrors of what happened that day. At times you stay awake, too scared to close your eyes. Afraid to see every wrong thing you've done as a daughter. You make it worse for yourself by calling her number, only to hear no answer.

The Wayne building was big. Many people in uniforms rushing too somewhere. Rushing to get work done, rushing to get home.

You walked beside Damian. He has been quite this whole time. You wonder what was making your dear little weirdo so silent.

You sat in one meeting with Bruce and Damian. It was rather boring. But you did think Bruce was cool with the way he took over. Bruce had two other meetings that suddenly came up. He was going to take the two of you downtown to look around, get something to eat. Go to the movies even.

"It's alright. Me and De- Damian can go and hang around with Alfred. Can get a little Sibling bonding out of it." You held yourself back from calling the boy, demon. Almost let it slip for a second there.

Bruce liked the sound of that. When he agreed, you gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Bruce isn't the best with affection, but you have been doing these little gestures, hugging, the kisses on the cheek. You would even do the occasional 'I love you's Bruce is starting to think that you might just be getting closer to him. So, he buys you more things.

Sometimes you decline so he just gives you money.

Damian rolled his eyes as you dragged him to the car. Alfred Started the car and you two were now going to be closer than ever. Well, you hope.

"So, little brother, you have anyone that has cached your interest?"

Damian frowns "That is none of your business."

"I see, you must really her then. Or him, I don't discriminate on who you love." You felt a smirk creep up when you catch a glimpse of the look on the young boy's face. It just felt so fun toying with him like this.

"I don't have time for something like dating. Stop talking, you're giving me a migraine." Damian did visibly look tired of you, which made it even more enjoyable for you.

The first few weeks that you came to the manor. This boy has been activating the need for violence. You can't just cuss him out and flip him off like you did with Miguel.

You can tell Damian ain't stupid. He's sharp and very aware of his surroundings. One slip up and your done for. So, you decide to do what you did best.

Be annoying.

Damian ignores you more when you act like that. On top of that, you loved the reactions you got out of him.

You and Damian went to a music shop where they had those old timey records that you liked.

"Why do you need these things. You know you can listen to music like this on your phone, right?" Damian watched as you picked up a record and held it like it was precious. The most fragile thing in the world.

". . .The neighborhood I used to live in. Was loud. I could hear screaming, gun shots. And other things I wasn't supposed to hear." You gently put the record down and continued to walk down the aisle. Damian and Alfred followed behind.

"One night, there was a gang fight right outside. I got so scared. I ran into her room crying. She played a song. . ." You found a song you haven't seen in a while and grabbed it.

"She held me. . . and said, 'son solo sondios, mi amor.' and told me to listen to the music. Let that be the only thing you hear." You let yourself laugh, remembering at how much you cried.

"So, that's what I do. Instead of listening to sounds that give me fear. I listen to these."

Damian watched you happily go through the records.

Damian scoffed to himself. It was the first time he saw a real smile from you. Of course, you smile a lot. But everything was fake. You were putting on a facade. He didn't like fake people.

Lying all the time. People who lie, can't be trusted. And you lie a lot. he knows. You just haven't been caught yet.

But that, what you just did. You were actually being real. You don't seem too bad. For a bug.

"What's this?" Damian spoke up when he picked up a record that had big words on it with a blue background.

"Oh, Boney M. I love these guys." You know Uncle Aaron had full blown collocations of the band.

You looked down to see the look of confusion on Damians face. "Oh, my Go- Come on man. You really don't know these guys?"

"No, should I? . . . My mother wasn't like yours." Damian mumbled. He sets down the record. You stared at him, then glanced to Alfred. You don't know much about Damian's mother. Just that she left him with Bruce.

Due to the boy's uptight attitude, you assume his mother was strict. And based on Alfreds expression, she probably wasn't the best.

You put your hand on his shoulder. "Let's go watch a movie. Yeah?"

The movie was a comedy, it was funny to you. Even more funny that Damian couldn't understand the jokes in the movie. Just watching you laugh so much just because he wasn't understanding the jokes, Damian couldn't help but laugh himself.

"I liked the ending." Damian spoke as you two exited out the theater. "What? for real? . . . why? The ending was kind of butt." You say, Wanting to know why Damian actually liked the ending.

"Well, the main character, Lisa. She found out she was being played by that Moses guy. Even if he caught feelings for her at one point, he didn't have those feelings when he went with that dare. When he kissed her at the prom as some stupid form of an apology, she just slapped him. She knew her worth."

You just stared in utter disbelief. You couldn't help but giggle, then burst out laughing.

"What? Why are you always laughing!'' Damian was scolding you as you continued to laugh and try to explain why you were laughing.

Suddenly you felt your Spidey senses go crazy. Thats when an explosion was heard.

"Oh shi-"

people started running in panic. "It's joker. . ." You heard Damian mumble. You quickly grab Damians hand and try to get to the car where Alfred was parked. Damian let you drag him. So many people were crowding up in a panic.

Damian looked up at you, then to the multiple explosions Joker was dropping. Hearing his damn laugh echo. He was putting his Job as Robin first. And let your hand go. You felt him let go. You quickly turn around. Panic sets in you. You called out his name as you tried to shove people away so you could get through.

"DAMIAN!" You tried to help a few people who got hurt by the falling rubble around them. But all you could think of was Damian. You kept calling the boy's phone. But it would go straight to voicemail. You cussed multiple times.

You went back into the theaters, calling out for Damian, asking anyone if they had seen a little boy come back in.

You didn't know he had left to fulfill his role as Robin.

You were currently in an alleyway. Trying to get to Damian on the phone, no answer. You try to contact Bruce, you lost service. You got frustrated and decided to just run around like an idiot to try and look for the boy.

But you accidentally ran into someone and knock them down.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry Ma'am. Are you alright?" You were quick to help the girl up.

"Thanks. . . you look good, Y/n."

You paused. Who was this? how did she know your name. Your look of confusion started to fade as you recognized the voice. You began to step back.

The girl fully showed her face. Starring you right in the eyes.

"Gwen?"

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