#no i take it back my alarm just went off
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we’re always singing the same tune! ♪ 〜 (´▽`)
#♡ amare’s art !!#i don’t rmr if that was the new art tag i set or not head in hands#fun fact: i have to wake up for school in fifteen minutes!! except!!! i DID NOT SLEEP!!!!!#no i take it back my alarm just went off#anyways fairy miku was very fun her lil gyaru aesthetic is cute#at least i think it’s gyaru#A LOT OF PINK THO ty megumi mizutani for ur work here n on the pkmn cards#banger design very cute#miku hatsune#hatsune miku#miku#miku x pokemon#project voltage#fairy-type miku#art#miku fanart#my art#that bag is the stuff of nightmares to draw#yeah it’s cute and the lil 01 buckle is genius but that is HARD to freestyle whether w a pencil or finger#i got to experiment w a lighting style i dont rlly use too!! i rlly like the result :3 might use it more in future tbh#rn my art style reminds me of a mix between actuallyrea’s new art style + akuoart’s general art style#both of which the styles r so iconic n the artists r so cool shoutout to them wowowowowow#click for better quality bc lord knows tumblr is terrible w this stuff#like at least ir isn’t instagram but also help girl i ddint do my lineart like usual and now my perception of how i draw is messing w brain#anyways! time to get an hr of sleep rn
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#just a little vent post#because my cat has been sick and I was on the fence about taking him to an emergency vet#and I woke up at 3am to him throwing up again so I was like that’s it we’re going#so we went and got things figured out and then I got back home 15 min before my alarm to get up for work went off#now I’m in the office fucking dying#ahhhhhhh
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I got a packet from the social security people I have to fill out and have sent back in--by mail--by the 26th. I got it on Friday. And I haven't looked at it til now, bc I was so stressed out about my dog being sick and i feel so overwhelmed. They want all my medical records from the last year, which I don't have, because I've only started keeping that stuff since I had my complete mental breakdown and she took me out of work. And there's so many pages and so much information they want. They have to nitpick my whole fucking life, before they can decide I deserve health. Being disabled in this country is a fucking nightmare. Instead of trying to hep, the just look for reasons to disqualify you. Because they don't want to help us; they just want us to go away
#america is a trashfire#i can't even leave my house alone#i literally have been in tears every time they call me#bc taking on the phone to strangers gives me that much anxiety#i can't function#i can't remember anything longer than a few seconds#i can't focus or concentrate on anything#i have to set alarms just to remind me to do things like eat or take meds#i forget to shower sometimes. others i'm too tired to bother#i literally went an entire week without showering recently. bc i didn't remember to do it#i am not well#and i just need help long enough to get well#but how am i supposed to get it? if they make you wait 200+ days just to hear if your claim is accepted#how am i supposed to survive until then?#I can't work bc i can't leave home with having panic attacks#i can't file for unemployment bc to do so you have to be actively looking for a job#and to get disability i have to prove that i can't work#i could probably work if i found a job i could do from home that payed enough to live off of#not to mention they want me to list any income from may-july#which i didn't make any working. but my brother lives me and gives me money to deposit for the bills#that are all in my name bc he hadn't established credit when we moved in. and my credit was better back then#bc i couldn't afford to leave home until i was 28. so my credit was literally based off my student loan payments#and they were pretty low bc i did the income based thing#i'm getting my parents to come help me with the paperwork#not bc i can't understand it. but bc i literally cannot remember something i read 30 seconds ago
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why can’t this week just end alreadyyyyyyy
#rant about the week incomin’ in the tags bc ‘complaining’ is my unofficial middle name#this week has *not* been my week so far and it’s only wednesday morning#my horrible week commenced on sunday night when i was unable to sleep bc my pillow was oriented wrong#thus i had a grand total of 1 hour of sleep which was not very poggers tbh. so i tried to sleep on the train but…#the guy next to me??? kept swaying to lean on my shoulder??? so i hunched over to avoid physical contact but he just landed on my back??#so that sucked balls. i kept having to wake up to push him away with my bag and then trying to go back to sleep.#but then!!! just as i fell asleep after one such instance!!! the guy’s phone alarm went off????? like?? why???? why would you set an alarm??#we’re on a friggin train mannnnn!!!!! why did you have to set an alarm?????????????#and ofc when the dude finally alighted (and i was asleep) he just *had* to jab me in the side with his elbow when he got up. ಠ_ಠ#so that’s how i knew the rest of the week was gonna be just ✨peachy✨#anyways manning 2 workstations (+ 1 bonus ‘mini’ workstation) on 1h of sleep isn’t very fun. esp if you’re incompetent af like me#and ofc there just had to be problems too. like the printers couldn’t print (and the systems crashed everytime i tried to print something)#and this sample running software kept closing itself in the middle of running samples so that was a pain to deal with#and tuesday (yesterday) wasn’t much better. in fact it was ✨worse✨. none of the 2 workstations could get started till like 10am and aaaaaa—#to make matters worse i had stubbed my toe so badly in the morning that my skin tore. so walking was ✨much pain✨ as well :(#and ofc yesterday had to be the one day where i had to walk back and forth an unnecessarily high number of times >:( sadded#and ofc they *had* to have an hour-long meeting about something or other towards the end of the workday when i had yet to eat my lunch >:(#(fell asleep during the meeting though bc it was boring as balls whoops)#and i could only take a half-hour break after that >:((( i wanted my full hour dammitttttttt#and ofc it was raining when i left and ofc it took like 25 mins for me to hail a taxi on this booking app bc i didn’t want to take the train#and ofccccc i misheard the taxi driver when he arrived and he roasted my chinese speaking skills. and ofcccc we were caught in a traffic jam#(i had a really nice hour long nap in the cab though so thanks traffic jam)#and thus ended my terrible 2 past weekdays. i’m drained af and it’s *only* wednesday morning????!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i’m mentally looping anzu no uta (imascg) to cope. ‘nu-uh i don’t wanna work’ so true anzu#i just wanna sleeeeeeep and wake up this weekend or sth idk it’s too early in the year for this#it is suiyoubi my dudes#may spam self-rb my monster-length character image/gif posts later to cope. you have been warned
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If lying is bad why does everyone love it when I lie
#literally woke up today to Guests in the house for Reasons#and when I said oh I just got up#mans was like oh but I thought your alarm went off at nine#so I go haha yeah I woke up at 9 and then went back to sleep#and my man goes I like her style#I’m like sir I’m taking notes#you like to be lied to
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so my phone turns 1 today and i was checking it now and it totally glitched like 2 things overlapping out of nowhere so I closed the screen and when I tried to reopen it it only lets me either enter the code or scan my finger and unlock it anyway I can and the the screen is either blurred or there's nothing on it and I cant open anything the buttons don't respond and I cant even turn it off what the actual fuck I'm losing my mind fr
edit: i was able to force turn it off somehow bc it wasn't working and we're back random indian guys on youtube save the day once again
#i had a phone in hs that glitched out one day out of nowhere and i spent all#of a math class trying to get it to work and it was emptying out the battery fast#and when it finally turned off and i recharged it it went back to normal and never#did that again until i broke it in college when it fell out of my pocket as i was walking over a metal bar#this is a highend new-ish phone this should not be happening....#and out of nowhere too like. it was fine in my hand then lost it#wow anna said something#anna's shitposts#how am i supposed to sleep now if i cant even touch the alarm app#Also I added a bunch of shit in the tags but for some reason after I wrote like 4 paragraphs#Tumblr decided to eat my tags explaining this absolute shitshow and my brains too fried to remember#Or want to bother with explaining everything again so yeah weird ass coincidental timing#And none of the forced turning off ways worked until I clicked the off circle on#The emergency screen whole holding the button on the side at the same time bc when I clicked just#The screen circle it would stay on and was completely frozen#It was looking like it was gonna be stuck in non responsive blurred filter over the screen frozen potato mode#I legit have no idea what that was about one moment it was fine the next nothing worked#Giving my phone the bombastic side eye rn bc wtf was that abt it deadass had a stroke or smth#The button on the side to force turn it off legit didn't work no matter how long i held it I managed to by some miracle it had to be#I s2g if my phone somehow died out of nowhere while being very new and costing what it did I was abt to lose my mind fr#I was freaking out abt my pics and that I need to take it when I travel for the con on Friday thank fuck it worked
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it's been a weird 8 hours. but i had a dream about boothill last night so fuck it we ball
#idk why it couldn't be about the husband but. beggars cant be choosers ig lmfoajennfn#but yea i went to bed late last night which was a dumb thing to do. but i had only been asleep for like 20 minutes#before my roommate woke me up at 2am in excruciating pain. but she also wouldn't let me take her to the e.r so. went back to bed#had to wake up 4 hours later to take her to work. then went back to bed for what should've been like an hour.#ended up accidentally turning my alarm off instead of snoozing. slept until 3 minutes before i needed to be to work. and had to come in late#and on top of that i'm getting sick#so its all just super off rn whnfkiwntnf#need to just fast forward to tonight and go to bed so that i can start over tomorrow#anyways. the dream does not bode well for the brainrot its just gonna be worse now so mfkccijengmvkdjd#i dont think anyones gonna wanna read all of this but if u do i love uuuuu#and i hope everyone else's days are/have been much better than mine lol#₊˚⊹⋆˚☂︎ bunny babbles ₊˚⊹⋆˚
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Man, I'm just kind of dazed today
I woke up yesterday around 9am, didn't do much for the day, went to bed... realized it was too hot to fall asleep (cause my window is broken so I can't open it)
So I got up, filled 3 box with papers as I sorted out the magazines and mail
Then I needed to stay up till after 8am so I could go to the post office to return that bowl. Came back and laid down but... you know when your body just feels wired and you really need to sleep but can't? Probably cause it's pumping out hormones to keep me awake to compensate for me being so tired, that's my guess based on how it feels
Anyway, lay down and kind of drift off with a video in the background, but... I think I was just on the verge of sleep but not able to cross over... like dozing at best
Then I hear Bart making noise and look over and he's acting like he's hunting a mouse, and sure enough he was, so he helps me cup it, and then I go take it to a field outside of town to hopefully live a better life... but clearly wasn't sleeping if I'm doing that
And... I'm still up. I think I'm gonna try and take another crack at sleeping... I hope I can do it. Things do at least feel a bit cooler
But yeah, I'm a mess today, gonna be two days worth of dash to look through whenever I get up, and then I can also respond to the couple messages I've got
But oof... hate feeling like this. The non depressed part of me wants to die just because maybe then I could finally rest
#for the record not even feeling that suicidal today; not sure if I'm too tired for it or if I'm just in an ok mood for once#but fuck do I just want to shut off and never have to boot up again; but now and in general#I relate to Bilbo and Frodo talking about being stretched thin... I feel something similar... you know... most of the time#strip the depression aside and I'm tired... and I don't know if any amount of rest will cure it... I don't know if I can truly rest#got a lot of things I want to do; whole lot of skills I want to pick up#but... having to be the parent my whole life; never actually getting a proper break... I'm so tired#my trip to Phoenix was the closest to a break I've gotten; but... there was a set activity in a set time frame#...it still kinda feels like I should have found a way to squeeze more out of it; you know? like as an obligation#not cause I minded how things actually went... but it just felt like I shouldn't have been at the hotel on the couch; should have been out#and then a 3 day window with stressful travel on either side of it... hard to really relax like that#obviously I had a fairly bad breakdown there; one of the few times I was actually at serious risk... not sure if I'd have managed it#don't trust myself to have the nerve to kill myself; but I very much did have a method... if I hadn't had someone to go see the next day#might have just gone ahead with it#but anyway; other than dinner with my friend their friend group and showers... I'm not sure I relaxed there either#I think... I think sleeping was more a maintenance obligation and I sprung up like when I set an alarm#(I so rarely set alarms and almost always wake up a couple minutes before them; it felt like that for 3 days straight)#so... truthfully I don't know if... if I've ever really rested#mhh... no joke; the last time that comes to mind that I didn't feel like I had to be kind of on#was when I was 13 on a school trip; and I'd taken a surf board to the back of the head while being rescued from a rip tide#and so people were worried about me; and I was just kind of laying there relaxing while people played cards and stuff nearby#...mhh... anyway... in less of a mood to say it's a shame I didn't just drown; so I suppose that's something#but... I don't even know what I'm saying; I'm so tired in the lack of sleep sense#and also physically and emotionally or... whatever#well... take care#mm tag so i can find things later
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also I’m very tired and wish i could stay home
but i have to Present at a staff meeting today so 🙃 yay 🙃
#kit talks#i’m so tiiiiiired#i went to sleep at like a little after 11#woke up to take my meds and as i used my inhaler glanced at the clock#and saw it was 12:30#and went back to bed but woke up a couple more times before my first alarm went off#and now i’m just tired and sore and achey as i try to wake up and don’t wanna
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back to the kittty, cause she's kinda pretty!
pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) bf!sukuna x reader x toji, masseuse!nanami x reader, bully!suguru x reader, childhood best friend!choso x reader, best friend!gojo x reader
summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn tropes! (part 2) inspired by this awesome post by the cool and super talented @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3
warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), sub!satoru supermacy, porn no plot, vaginal sex, doggy, fem reader, "sloppy seconds," pre-established consent for all, reader accidently eats an aphrosidiac for choso's, bullying in suguru's, oral (m and frecieving), fingering, semi-public humiliation, lowk pathetic toji, art by 3aem, nOT EDITED
a/n choso's is my favorite yet again i love a pathetic man that rails me into next tuesday <3
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
KAMO CHOSO ⸺ MY HOT CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND ATE SOME WEIRD CHOCOLATE AND WANTS ME TO DICK HER DOWN!
Your best friend, Choso, was lounging on his couch, flipping through different movie options on Netflix while you were in the kitchen, bending and squinting through the different options. It’s a Friday night, and the both of you opted to stay in for movie night.
“Choso!” You complained, huffing while putting your hands on your hips to shout at him in the living room. “Why do you only have fuckin protein shakes and raw chicken in your fridge?”
All you get is a noncommittal shrug while he pauses on the preview for some shonen anime. “There should be some chocolate.”
Gasping in excitement, you go back to rummaging through his fridge like a raccoon and there you find it—-a pink chocolate box titled “tabs.” Smiling to yourself in excitement, you don’t hesitate before popping on of the bars in your mouth, appreciating the cherry flavor while grabbing another one. With your mouth full, you ask, “Do you want one? These are sooo good, where'd you buy them?”
“Nah, I’m good. Just come over here, you’ve been taking too long.” He sends you a glare and motions for you to sit next to him, to which you set the chocolate back in the fridge and pad your way over to him. “I think Sukuna bought these off the internet and that they were kinda bougie.”
You look at him, slightly alarmed. “Isn’t he going to kill you?”
He looks over at you—a little softly, you note—and ruffles your hair, to your dismay. “It’s okay, I’ll buy it again for him. Gonna blame your big back ass for it being gone.”
“Die.” You stick your tongue out, crossing your arms while settling into his side.
Choso noted that you were being a bit more cuddly than usual, touching him more as soon as you got onto the couch. He decides to ignore it. “Ok, we’re going with Spider-man, k?”
You nodded into his side—he could tell you were flushed by the way you had continued to grow warmer and warmer, with beads of sweat dotting your temple. He paid it no mind, choosing instead to click on the movie and watch it play.
You were heating up.
You tried to ignore it, because you hadn’t felt feverish before or done anything in particular to cause you to be sick (your coffee and ramen diet had been fixed after midterms season after Choso got on your ass about it). But about 25 minutes into the movie, you couldn’t bear it anymore, your vision blurring at the edges as you mumbled, “‘ts too hot. Gonna take off my shirt.”
Choso, who had been focused on the movie, tensed and looked at you, eyes slightly widened. “Wh—” Before he could even get a word out, you stood up—eyes slightly unfocused—arching your back while grabbing the bottom hem of your t-shirt and peeling it off, causing Choso to gulp as you uncovered the swell of your breasts in your red lace bra. You went back to borrowing yourself on his side, the softness of your boobs pressing against his arm.
Choso closed his eyes because there was nooo way he was popping a boner for his best friend. No way. As both of your eyes went back to the movie, Choso focused on reciting the Japanese National Anthem to distract himself from the soft breaths you were letting out near his ears—and the way they tickled them—as well as the rise and press of your chest against his arms as you heaved.
You, on the other hand, did not feel relieved. At all. There was a stickiness in between your thighs that made you think your period had started, but it had ended a week ago. You were probably just ovulating. Cuddling into Choso further, you put your legs on either side of his torso, burying your face into his neck and taking a deep sniff. At this point, you ignore the movie as you tried the soothe the heat that was going through you.
“What are you doing?” Choso was ram–rod straight and turned to peer down at you incredulously while reciting in his brain, until the tiny pebbles, grow into massive boulders.
You continued your whiffing—-he just smelled sooo good—and sobbed, “I don’t know, but it hurts.” At this point, the feeling between your thighs was unbearable. You started to subtly grind on the side of his torso, much to Choso’s surprise. “‘M sick, Cho, but I’ve been eating healthy! I promise!” you whined. “Except for the chocolate right now. It hurts!”
At that moment, he knew he fucked up.
These were the tabs chocolates Sukuna was buying for his girlfriend. The ones viral on social media for serving as aphrodisiacs.
“Fuck,” he groaned while you continued to rub yourself onto him, now fully moaning and sighing as you tried to chase relief. “Fuck! I fucked up.”
“Choso,” you whined loudly, prompting him to leave his state of anguish to look at you worriedly. “I feel so empty.”
Choso snapped.
Bent over, face buried in a pillow on the couch, Choso rams into your creamy, wet pussy, the squelching sounds echoing across the empty apartment. Punctuating his words with a thrust, “is-” plap! “what-” plap! “you-” plap! “wanted?”
“Yes!” you squeal, body bouncing as his rough snaps of his hips jostled you around, “You’re making me feel so good, Cho!”
“Do you know how much of a tease you’ve been?” he growled, balls hitting your ass as he pulled a hand back to spank you, red handprint imprinting itself on your cheeks. He groans at the sight of him leaving his mark on you. “Gonna take my cum, right?”
FUSHIGURO TOJI AND SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ I GET MY BEST FRIEND’S SLOPPY SECONDS! (a/n lol im not gonna lie this is just me ovulating and wanting to be creampied by two men)
Whenever Toji was at Sukuna’s place, it was like you, his girlfriend, pretended he wasn’t there. Because why were you always dressed in the tiniest of shorts and a tank top that could barely even hold your tits in and keep them covered? Sometimes, Toji thought it was Sukuna’s play—dangling you in front of him like a piece of meat, reminding him what he couldn’t have.
Sukuna and Toji did have a bit of a…competitive friendship—one of good nature, of course. Toji, nonchalant as he is, didn’t really care whether he lost or not in the little skirmishes they had, whether it be seeing who can lift the most at the gym or walk somewhere faster. But he’s definitely seen Sukuna eye his groin in a mental competition to see if he was bigger or not.
Safe to say, Sukuna relished in the win. In a sense, he was obsessed with the submission. Not that Toji could care. He didn’t care when he flaunted his girlfriend around, groping you in front of him just to make him feel jealous…right?
Because why was his dick hard, him all hot and bothered as he listens to your moans and the plap! plap! plap! and squelches of Sukuna’s dick drilling in you? You’re both in the room, and Toji’s in the living room, confused as to why the fuck Sukuna asked him to come over when you clearly had a dick appointment with him.
“Mmm, Sukuna you’re making me feel so good!” You whine, and Toji curses, closing his eyes and cursing whatever god was out there to make him subject to such torture. In his gray sweatpants, his bulge is undeniable as he hears Sukuna pleasure you.
Then, he hears Sukuna call out to him, jumping as the other man yells, “Yo, Toji. I know you’re out there, man. Come in!” He then laughs meanly, speeding up to silence whatever protests you were making. Toji curses once again and moves to open the door just for his eyes to widen at what he’s seeing.
There is an obscene amount of cum oozing from your hole, it looked battered and swollen from the abuse Sukuna has dealt to it. There are tears in your eyes, a pretty pout on your face as Sukuna continues to use you as your fucktoy. And Toji realizes that Sukuna is looking at him while his hips languidly gyrate into you.
“‘kuna–” you sob, embarrassed and cheeks heating up even further as you felt Toji’s eyes rove over your form, utterly decimated by Sukuna.
But you’re interrupted out of any potential protests you can make as Sukuna smacks your ass—Toji’s eyes not missing the jiggle—as he abruptly pulls out and motions Toji to come closer. “I’m gonna let him borrow you, okay baby? You see, Toji’s kind of pathetic here. Might as well give him sloppy seconds, right?”
With that, Toji is moaning as he slowly enters you, your pussy sweetly clamping on his dick as he can literally feel Sukuna’s cum every time he thrusts. The utterly debauched feeling of his still-hot come lubricating his every thrust makes his eyes roll back, lost in the feeling of your pussy as you whimper and squeal everytime he hits your g-spot.
“Yo,” and Toji’s attention is temporarily swayed to Sukuna, who’s watching the both of you with darkened eyes, manspread in a chair. “Come inside, okay? It’s my treat.”
NANAMI KENTO ⸺ DIRTY MASSEUSE GIVES HOT BABE A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE! (WITH A HAPPY ENDING)
Working in corporate was hell.
Sitting in a chair all day slaving away at spreadsheets and emails was definitely not something your younger self imagined you doing, but alas, you were only but a slave to capitalism. Even your hip flexors could feel it—they were tight, and your upper back hurt a lot.
So, here you were, in the waiting room of this bougie massage salon that you decided to treat yourself to. After all, you’ve been a good girl with your savings, making sure not to spend loads on stress-virtual-shopping so you can blow lots of bucks into this 2 hour service. The lobby is neat and glamorous, as you wait while rubbing your back. You’re currently engrossed in watching a compilation of Moo Deng videos until a deep cough interrupts you. “Miss?”
You turn to face the rich, baritone voice that’s said your name, and then suddenly reeling back. In front of you was probably one of the most handsomest men you’ve ever seen, with blond hair and sharp cut facial lines. He’s rubbing his palms together, which seem laden with oil as he looks at you plaintively. “Shall we take it to the massage room?”
“Y–yes. We can do that,” you nervously affirmed, gathering your purse and belongings to tightly follow behind him.
When you arrive at the room, the stoic man motions for you to get changed. “Please put on a towel. We’re going to be doing a deep tissue massage, so the towel will serve as a protective measure.”
You blush at the thought of this man seeing your body covered in nothing but a towel, but follow his directions regardless, putting your belongings in a corner while you step out of the changing room and into the massage room once again. You try to preserve your modesty as best you can as you go to lie down on the table. The only things you hear from him are the clinks of bottles as he rummages through different oils, uncovering them. The smell hits you dead on, soothing your senses already with the essential oils.
And then, his rough, big hands are on your back, pressing into your shoulder blades. You jump, like a scared deer, and he lets out a deep chuckle. “My bad. I’ll be doing your back side first.”
“Okay,” you whisper in response, already closing your eyes in bliss with the way he’s roving his thumbs over the planes of your back, pressing in deep as he works out the kinks in your back.
In one particular spot in your lower back and hips—the one that’s been hurting like a bitch because of your endless time sitting in a chair—he presses his thumbs with the exact right pressure, and you moan.
You can’t help it—the chronic back pain has always been there, but he makes it disappear with a languid movement of his fingers over your back. But he pauses slightly as soon as the whimper comes out of your mouth. “Miss, are you alright?” Flushing, you are quick to affirm. “Yes, sorry.” With a lower voice, you say, “That was, um, that was just really relieving.”
He laughs melodically and continues his ministrations, going even lower, but pausing right before putting his hands on your ass. “May I pull the towel up? Direct contact will be helpful in this region for a deep tissue massage.”
“Y-yeah,” you say softly. “You can do that, you’re the professional.” He’s just doing this for massage reasons, right? With your consent, he slowly inches up your towel to uncover your bare ass to him, you clenching your thighs with the fact that he can see everything.
He then puts his hands on the fat of your ass, moving his hands in a circular motion that spreads your ass every time he moves in an outward rotation. Kento’s trying really hard to stay professional, but seeing your glistening wetness makes him groan inwardly. “Miss,” you perk up slightly as he refers to you, “I’ll continue with the deep tissue massage as requested, okay? There’s a spot that I believe really needs my attention.”
Innocently, you nod, and Kento can’t help but feel so aroused that you’re so naively believing him, letting him touch you as if it’s an appropriate part of his job. His hands inch closer and closer, and soon enough he’s fingering you while languidly licking you up.
“Does this feel good, miss?” Kento is out of breath as he nudges his nose deeper into your pussy while you’re squealing at the feeling of his fingers slamming into your g-spot, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he goes in, sucking at your clit just perfectly.
“It’s rude not to answer someone,” your masseuse gives you a slap, and quickly soothes it over.
“‘M sorry!” you squeal, bucking your hips as soon as you feel like you’re getting closer, “It feels soo good.” With that, he pauses his ministration to give you a gentle kiss on your pussy, and the plush of his lips is enough to set you squirting, riding his face as you drench him in your juices. Safe to say, you were feeling very de-stressed.
GOJO SATORU ⸺ BEST FRIEND CATCHES HIM MASTURBATING, JOINS IN ON THE FUN!
Satoru groans, squeezing his ball at the base to avoid cumming prematurely. What he was originally doing was trying to find some porn to empty his balls to, releasing stress and gaining dopamine from masturbating. But eventually—like he’s been doing a lot these days—his fingers direct him to your Instagram profile. You, his best friend.
Satoru does this in secret, waiting until he’s alone in his and Suguru’s apartment to go into his room, close the door, and sin by thinking of you in a way friends don’t of each other. So, he’s trying not to bust too early while he zooms in on your tits in the cute bikini picture you posted just last week, the ones he took of you. The pixels of your magnificent breasts zoom in, sweat and water glistening off of them as your bra hugs and makes them sit just right. He groans, throwing his head back as he feels his cockhead pulse again, deciding to end his edging to cum.
In his focus on stroking his dick—the squelching and whines echoing in his room—he doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. Nor of the footsteps heading towards his door, because he moves his hand up and down, up and down, up and down until he’s so close to cumm—-
“Satoru! I got us some mochi!” You yell loudly, and Satoru screams in return, albeit for a different reason. As your head whips up to look at him, alarmed at his shout, you register that his cock and balls are out. And that, in his left hand, is a photo of you.
You blink, and Satoru blinks back, except with a red, throbbing length in his hand. Then, slowly, you ask, “Why is my picture open, Satoru?”
Satoru swallows, already hearing funeral bells and utters out, “I—I—that was a mistake. I meant to be on Pornhub. Haha! I mean,” he continues on rambling, “why would I be looking at your picture? Obviously, my hand slipped while I was jerking off I mean—” he cuts himself off, because in his yapping, he’s failed to notice how you’ve stalked over to his bed, now straddling him while spitting on his cock.
“Fuck,” he curses, as his pupils dilate watching the thicky, frothy mix of your spit ooze down from your pursed lips onto his dick. “W–what are you—” You motion for him to stand up, orienting yourself so that your throat was hanging off the bed and you were on your back on his mattress.
“Since you’re so desperate,” you give him a deadly sweet smile as he stands, dick above your face. You give his tip a little kiss, and he shivers. “You can fuck my throat.”
Satoru definitely takes you up on that offer.
He can’t even believe that he’s here, you deepthroating his dick so nice. “Thank you, thank you,” he whines, gyrating his hips sloppily into the tight, wet heat of your mouth as your lips suckle on him. “Needed this so, so much.” You’ve even uncovered your tits, them bouncing nicely as Satoru continuously lodges himself in your throat. “Please, please let me cum.”
You gently push against his hips, indicating you want him out of your mouth. Raspily, you wipe the trail of spit that’s left your mouth and laugh meanly and give him a deceptively sweet kiss on his balls. “You have to last at least 10 more minutes, okay?”
And Satoru can do nothing but obey you, driving himself to the hinge of climax but never over, whimpering as your mouth swallows him up.
GETO SUGURU ⸺ BIG DICKED BULLY FUCKS CUTE ANIME GIRL INTO SUBMISSION!
Your safe haven is your library. There, the man who’s been torturing you for most of your college career, Suguru Geto, doesn’t know where you hide, nor does he frequent the place. You’re focused in on your assignments right now, having fallen behind due to Suguru’s antics of bothering you and disturbing your peace to humiliate you across campus. It’s late at night, and there’s not a lot of people to disturb you. You thought.
You’re wrenched out of your state of focus as someone harshly pulls your chair back, grabbing your chin to meet your eyes with his. Your bully, Suguru.
You gasp in surprise as he roves his eyes over you and what you’re wearing. A short skirt, one he dare wouldn’t admit made you look cute, and a sweater. Silently, he sits down while you tremble, looking at him with shaky eyes that makes his cock swell in his pants.
He smirks. “You thought you could hide from me?” He then ticks his head towards your textbook. “Whatcha reading? Recite it to me.”
Even though you were confused as to why he would have you do that, you hurried to do as he said. Meanwhile, his siren eyes roved over your form, choosing to settle in between your thighs.
“Schroedinger’s theory had proved classical physicists wro—-“ You’re interrupted by your own gasp, because Suguru’s laid a hand that’s gently caressing your inner thigh.
“Go on,” he purrs, getting closer and closer to the heat of your pussy.
You swallow and go on. “…had proved classical physicists wrong, showing that unexplained phenomena in spectroscopy and atoms demonstrated discrete—-“
Meanwhile, he’s inched his hand inside of your panties, softly rubbing at your clit in a manner unbecoming of the mean Suguru you know. Before you know it, your orgasm was creeping up on you, and your legs were trembling while Suguru buried his face in your neck, giving you soft kisses.
“Cmon, you slut,” he whispered, the softness of his voice contrasting with the harshness of his words, “are you too stupid to read?”
You whimper as he delves a finger into your hole, collecting the ooze there and going back to your clit. “…atoms demonstrated discrete properties, referred to as quanta—-“ It’s with a nasty lick to the shell or your ear that you’re cumming, squealing loudly as you cream on his fingers, humiliated at the show you were forced to put on in the library.
Suguru pulls his fingers out and sucks on them languidly, looking you in the eye. “Now slut, you’re going to do that seated on my dick. Got it?”
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist
a/n hiii pookies this was late sorry </3 but ANYWAYS im excited to write (and ride) cowboy geto and spiderman!gojo next! consider joining my kinktober taglist if you're interested <3 part 1 of this here btw
comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :p
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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
PART I
Bangchan x reader. (s,a)
Chapters: Part II / Part III
Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)
Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x
It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.
The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that
So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.
"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.
Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.
However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.
The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.
The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.
"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.
"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.
Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.
"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.
Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.
"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."
The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"
"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.
The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.
"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.
"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.
"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.
"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.
"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.
"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.
The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"
"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.
"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"
"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.
The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."
"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.
Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.
"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.
"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.
Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.
-
The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.
In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.
From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.
Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.
"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"
"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.
Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.
"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.
You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.
"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.
"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"
"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.
"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.
"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.
"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.
All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."
The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.
"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.
"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.
Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.
"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.
"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.
To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.
"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.
It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.
He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.
"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.
There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.
There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"
Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.
He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.
"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"
When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.
"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.
"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."
With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"
It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.
"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.
"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.
It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.
"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.
"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.
It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.
When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.
When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.
"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.
Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.
-
Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.
All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area
So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?
It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.
Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.
There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.
But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.
Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!
Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.
As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!
Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.
With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.
Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.
The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.
Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.
You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.
"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.
The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.
"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"
"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"
Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...
"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.
"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.
"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.
The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.
Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.
Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.
"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.
He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.
He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.
"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.
Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.
Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.
"Is that for me?"
The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.
"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.
"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."
"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."
See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.
"Thank you," you add with a smile.
Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.
It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.
Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.
"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.
"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.
It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.
"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"
You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.
"Milk would be nice," he answers.
"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.
You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.
After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.
"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.
You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.
"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.
"Oh?" You meekly gasp.
"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.
"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."
"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.
You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.
"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.
Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.
The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.
"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.
That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.
"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."
Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.
"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.
You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."
"How long you've been dating each other?"
"Three years," you answer.
"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.
Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.
"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.
"My help?"
"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.
"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.
It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."
Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.
"I guess you want to let him down gently?"
"Yes," you answer.
"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."
Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.
"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.
"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.
Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.
"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.
"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.
"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.
You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.
"She already left," you tell him.
Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.
"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.
"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.
Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.
You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.
"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.
The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.
The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.
"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.
"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.
Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.
"How did it go?" He asks.
"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.
Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.
"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.
"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.
"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.
It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.
"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.
Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.
"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.
Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.
"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.
Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.
"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.
"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."
Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.
"We can practice, you know," he offers.
"Practice?"
"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.
He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.
The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.
"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.
Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door
-
Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.
The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.
The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.
"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"
Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.
"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.
"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.
"That sounds nice," you easily respond.
"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?
"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.
"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."
You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.
"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.
"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.
"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"
"So glad," you lie, again and again.
"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.
"Okay."
"Don't forget the wine!"
"I won't."
"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.
The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."
"I love you, bye."
Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.
Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.
Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"
"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.
It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.
You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.
"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.
He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."
You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.
However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.
"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"
Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.
The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.
"Get it together!" You scold yourself.
After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.
"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.
"Hardly," he jokes.
You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.
"Okay, so, why am I here?"
You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."
It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.
"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.
"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"
You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.
"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.
Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.
"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.
"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.
It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.
"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."
Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.
Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.
"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.
"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.
Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.
"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.
"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.
The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.
He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."
You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.
He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.
"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.
It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.
-
It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.
Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.
Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.
But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.
"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.
You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.
Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.
"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.
Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.
"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.
"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.
When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.
"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.
"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.
You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.
"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.
"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"
The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.
Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.
From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.
"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.
"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.
Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.
The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.
"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.
You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.
He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.
"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."
Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.
To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.
As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.
He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.
As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.
"I want this, Chris," you croak.
"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.
"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.
You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.
"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.
This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.
He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.
"Yes," you answer without a beat.
That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.
Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.
Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.
He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.
He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.
To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.
"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.
He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.
"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.
He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.
The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.
Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.
At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.
"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.
Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.
You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.
Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.
The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.
He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.
Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.
He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.
On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.
He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.
Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.
You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.
He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.
"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.
You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.
Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.
"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.
It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.
Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.
"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.
Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.
He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.
As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.
He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.
"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.
Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.
A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.
The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.
Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.
"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.
Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.
"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.
He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"
"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.
He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.
Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.
The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.
"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."
Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.
"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.
"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.
Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.
When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.
-
A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.
He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.
Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.
Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.
Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.
At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.
Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.
You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.
Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.
"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.
"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.
Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.
"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.
"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."
Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"
"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.
"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.
You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"
"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.
"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.
"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.
Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.
"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.
He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."
You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.
You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.
"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.
You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.
There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.
He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"
You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.
Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.
The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.
"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.
His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"
"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."
And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?
Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.
"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.
You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.
Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.
That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.
-
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Sugar on the Rim vol. I
bruce wayne x afab!reader
aka the billionaires new friend
warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part
You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.
The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.
Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.
Should you stand up?
No, he’s rich, not royalty.
You are in his house though—
He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.
You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”
“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed.
“Arthur Mullins.”
He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”
You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.
You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.
There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”
“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.
He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”
“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.
He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.
Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”
“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”
“I don’t know anybody here.”
He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”
You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”
He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”
Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.
You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”
“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”
You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”
“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”
You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”
“Bruce.”
“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.
He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.
You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”
He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”
You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.
If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.
He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”
It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.
You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget.
A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.
You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.
He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”
It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”
You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.
You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”
He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”
You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”
He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”
You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”
“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”
He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.
You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”
He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”
“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is.
He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.
It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”
You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.
He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”
You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.
Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways.
The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.
You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty.
“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”
Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”
You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”
He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”
You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options.
“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.
“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”
“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”
He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”
A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path.
Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.
As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.
Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”
“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”
He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.
“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”
He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”
Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”
“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.
“I mean, of course, but it—”
He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”
Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit.
You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”
“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.
You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”
His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.
He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.
Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?
And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?
You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.
As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.
“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for.
You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”
He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”
You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.
A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk.
“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.
“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room.
This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?”
The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce.
You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.
“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.
A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received.
Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”
Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”
The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”
He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”
You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.
“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”
Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased.
He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”
Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”
“And so you have.”
“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.
“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”
The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.
“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”
His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”
You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”
His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”
“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”
He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”
“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.
He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”
You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”
He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.
“I think we should go,” he says lower.
You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.”
He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.”
He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”
You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”
He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected.
“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.
He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”
You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”
He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”
You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”
“Why did you show up last weekend?”
You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”
He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”
For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.
“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.
His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.”
You shrug, “A day in the life,”
He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.
“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.
Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.
It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.
He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.
Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.
You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.
Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?
His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?”
God, he’s a professional.
You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.
He doesn’t.
You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”
He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”
“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”
His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”
You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”
“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”
Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”
His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”
You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”
You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”
He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”
“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much.
“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”
“Why’s that?”
“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours.
Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”
His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”
You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”
He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”
You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms.
He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.
He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”
Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.
“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence.
“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.
It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”
He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”
That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for.
He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”
You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex.
Right?
He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.
You let him move you.
“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”
“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”
You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.
“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”
You blink at him, “I’m going home?”
“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”
“No.”
He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”
You start to shake your head, “I can—”
He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”
You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.
“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan.
Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”
He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.
It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.
You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.
You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.
He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.
You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.
You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.
You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.
“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.
“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.
You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”
“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.
“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”
“Later?”
“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”
He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”
You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.
“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.
“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.
You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”
He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”
You nod, looking down again.
“You’re nervous,” he comments.
“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.
He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”
He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.
You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”
He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”
“Bruce—”
He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”
He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”
Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.
You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”
“Two hundred.”
“Bruce.”
He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.
You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”
His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”
You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”
“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”
You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”
His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.
“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.
Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.
He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.
You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.
“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.
You groan, “Why?”
He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”
“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.
He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”
You sit back on your heels again, frowning.
He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”
You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.
part two
🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽
#bruce wayne takes care of his gf#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne smut#bruce wayne/reader#bruce wayne/you#bruce wayne x you#batman x reader#batman x you#batman imagine#batman smut#batman/reader#batman/you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc smut#batfam smut#bruce wayne x virgin!reader#bruce wayne x younger!reader#bruce wayne x age gap!reader
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Danny has answered the door for half a dozen different people responding to the ad (all out-of-towners - everyone in Amity knew to avoid the Fentons), and assumed it was another one of Jazz's (or ancients forbid even mom or dad's) harebrained ideas to get Danny some extra help with his grades. Frankly, he was amazed there were even that many responders who hadn't been scared off by the Ops Center on top of his home.
This time, the house defenses picked up on a low level ecto-signature, and Danny rushed to the control pad to override them before they decided whoever was on the other side might be a threat. They had triggered his own ghost sense as well, and he was confident he could overpower whoever it was if they turned out to be a problem.
He didn't expect to open the door to a baby halfa.
Okay... maybe 'baby' isn't the first thought most people have when seeing the six-and-a-half foot beast of a man standing on his doorstep. Danny would have definitely believed he was about to get robbed and murdered if he weren't an OP half ghost who fought bigger, scarier eldritch entities almost on the daily.
Or for the smothering aura of awkward-out-of-place the guy radiated (with a tinge of deep-rooted injustice and carefully managed anger, but like, the guy was half-ghost, and in Danny's limited experience, that implied some sort of trauma, so he wasn't gonna judge.)
Or just the fact that Danny is the son of Jack "kool-aid man" Fenton, and he had long since been desensitized to "big and scary," when his mind readily supplied him with all the memories he had of his dad being an utter goofball.
Still, it was all he could do to suppress the ghost instincts to immediately coo at the baby ghost and start a gentle fight to welcome him into Danny's haunt.
"...Hi," the stranger eventually greeted after the awkward silence that Danny definitely hadn't done anything to help, "I'm here because of this ad?" He held up a printed copy that Danny barely bothered to even glance at.
"You're hired," Danny blurted out, then instantly clamped down on the urge to cringe. What the hell, ghost instincts?
Stranger Danger looked just as surprised as Danny felt. "Shouldn't I talk to your parents first?"
"I'm Danny," Danny plowed on, stuffing the internal mortification and simultaneous silent ghost squeeing down until it was no longer a distraction, "I'm the one that needs a tutor, shouldn't I have a say in who tutors me?"
"I mean, ideally, yeah, you should a least have the option to avoid anyone that would make you uncomfortable," Stranger replied, looking (and radiating) a bit off-kilter before straightening into a firm answer.
"Good! Then we're both in agreement!" Danny beamed as he grabbed Stranger's hand and pulled him inside the door with probably a bit too much strength, but the guy luckily didn't falter or stumble. "First, I need to key you into the security system, then I can give you a quick tour and the rules of the house!"
"But you dont even know my name!" Stranger protested as Danny shoved his hand onto the scanner to record his ectosignature. It took a few seconds longer than it probably should have before the LED lit up in confirmation, and Danny mentally filed it away to mention to Frostbite whenever he managed to get the baby halfa a proper doctor appointment.
"My guy, you're the only one that can fix that problem," Danny answered sagely.
Stranger stared for several seconds, then dropped his hand off of the scanner when he realized Danny wasn't holding it there anymore.
"Jason."
"Nice to meet you, Jason," Danny replied with what he hoped was a friendly smile. Jason wasn't really responding to any of the aura cues Danny was giving off, so it was unlikely the guy had much knowledge on ghost culture and etiquette, "This door leads to the basement lab. You won't be allowed down there without supervision until you've completed the safety training lessons. Around the corner is the kitchen. Be mindful when opening the fridge -the hot dogs have recently unionized and are still working out their list of demands. Upstairs is where all the bedrooms are, including the guest room you'll be staying in, and over here is the pneumatic tube to the Ops Center - the UFO on the roof. Same rules as the lab, but it'll be a safe space to retreat to once you've done all the weapons and equipment training."
Danny continued on the tour, dragging Jason around by the arm as he explained where everything was and where to find all the security access panels. Jason's aura grew more and more concerned as Danny prattled on. "Are you safe here?" He asked, interrupting Danny as he tried to explain that the hot dogs make good guard dogs in a pinch.
"Couldn't be safer!" Danny said, waving off the concern, "Mom and Dad are tons better now that they understand that ghosts are sentient. They probably won't even attack you on sight! Which reminds-"
"Okay, first of all, what the fuck? Secondly, I'm sensing a leap of logic here that I've somehow missed. Why would attacking ghosts translate to attacking me?" Jason asked, looking a little panicked and loosing the tightly controlled anger buried in his aura ever so slightly.
"Jason, my guy, why do you think I hired you so quickly?" Danny asked seriously. He could sense Jason swallow a retort by the way his aura did a one-eighty from flippant to straight-up denial.
"I'm not a ghost," he stated, matter-of-fact. Danny almost believed it.
"You sure about that?" Danny pushed, raising a brow. Apparently, they were having this conversation now, and if Danny had learned anything from his older sister, it was that declaring something point blank rarely worked. It was better to lead the person through the logic until they figured out the conclusion themselves. (Thank the ancients it worked on mom and dad.)
"I have a heartbeat," Jason insisted.
"So do I," Danny replied.
"So you're not a ghost either... wait, Danny, did your parents convince you that you're a ghost? Kid, that's fucked up."
"Please," Danny scoffed, "They didn't even know I died until I told them. They're brilliant ecto biologists, but they're terrible ghost hunters. Didn't even know a ghost was living under their own roof. Well, I *say* living, but we both know that's because there isn't really a better fitting term for what we are."
"I came back from the dead. That makes me a zombie, not a ghost," Jason argued, eyes flashing green as he expertly fought for emotional control.
"I can see how you would come to that conclusion, but zombies aren't revived, just reanimated. There's no soul involved, which you clearly have."
"Wouldn't that mean I'm just resurrected?" Jason argued.
"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you came back exactly the same as you were before?"
That was enough to convince Jason to look back toward Danny, to finally see that Danny could make his eyes glow too.
"Shit-fuck!" Jason exclaimed as he staggered back from surprise. He still wasn't responding to the *same-comfort-friend* that Danny was sending his way, so Danny tilted his head to try to portray some degree of casualness before blinking away the ecto.
Maybe he over-estimated Jason's supernatural bullshit tolerance. He should probably take a step back.
"You came here to take a tutoring job. I'm sorry I threw an existential crisis at you. You're the first person I've met that's the same thing I am and *not* a total fruitloop or my clone. But I'll understand if you want to turn down the job. Just promise to be careful out there? The anti-ecto acts are still a thing and they define you as non-sentient so if you see any creeps dressed in white suits, just avoid them as much as possible. But if you need a place to hide, then you're always welcome to come back. The ambient ecto here in Amity Park is enough to mask your ecto-signature so they can't track-"
"Kid," Jason interrupted, "Danny. Respectfully. What the absolute fuck?"
Danny cringed.
"Are you seriously telling me that there are laws out there that violate the meta human protection act, and they target both of us? And theres other people out there like both of us? And you were fucking cloned? I was looking for a job that could take me *away* from the crazy! Goddammit!" Jason leaned against the wall and slid down till he was sitting on the carpet, running a hand through his death-touched hair. "Well I guess this is happening now. I cant ever get a fucking break, can I?"
"Im sorry," Danny muttered.
"Why are you sorry? Literally none of this is your fault. Dont be sorry for things you can't control. That's just a recipe for disaster."
Danny nodded dumbly.
"Just please, on top of all of this, promise me you're parents aren't abusive, too."
"I promise my parents are not abusive," Danny stated, raising a hand as if in oath.
"Why am I not convinced?" Jason complained, running a hand down his face, "I dont think I can handle this extential crisis on top of kidnapping a kid out of an abusive home," he muttered mostly to himself, but Danny could sense the exasperation.
"Excuse you," Danny said with a snort, "*I'm* the one doing the kidnapping here!"
Jason looked up at Danny incredulously, "Sure you are, shortstack."
"Hey! Not all of us can make it to the shit brickhouse stage before dying!"
Jason blinked, clearly processing Danny's words.
"I was 15. Almost as scrawny as you," he eventually offered.
"Oh, thank god," Danny exclaimed with clear relief, "There's still a chance I'll keep growing."
"You didn't know? That was something you were worried about? I thought you said there's others?"
"Yeah, the fruitloop and the clone. Fruitloop was an adult when he died. Clone was created the way she is, and we have no idea if any changes or lack thereof are ghost shenanigans or clone shenanigans. I mean, she's my clone and somehow a girl? Is the fruitloop incompetent, or is that just how ghosts be?" Danny finished with a shrug.
Jason's aura was a weird mix of processing information like a supercomputer and having an aneurysm. Danny anxiously waited for him to respond, knowing that if he opened his mouth again he'd accidentally info dump even more.
"I still want the job," he finally stated, "assuming your parents approve."
Danny waved off his concerns once again, "They'll love having another ghost in the house. That's twice as much data for their research!"
DP x DC prompt #161
Jason loves his family, he really does, but he needs a break from them. He just needed a break in general. But what should he do? Well, he saw an ad online earlier for a stay-at-home tutor for a high school kid in a place called Amity Park. Danny, if Jason remembers correctly.
#clockwork placed the ad#danny needed a big brother#and danny was at a point in his life where he could help jason#and wasnt at risk of jason trying to remove him from his haunt#and jason was reasonably safe in the fenton household#i am just imagining that every alarm bell in jasons head is going off#he got to fentonworks#saw the ops center#about-face and turn#time to do research#was absolutely convinced he'd need to rescue danny#went back to fentonworks under the guise of taking the job#prepared to use it as cover to investigate the fentons#and subtly bond with danny to trust jason enough to leave with him#the longer he stays the crazier things get#but he quickly learns that danny is about as safe as he can be#i literally just wanted to reply that clockwork made the ad#somehow i wrote a whole book#why cant i be this inspired for my own fics?#it just kept going and going#i could still write more#in case it wasnt clear this is good parents au#just highly eccentric#they made new safety procedures and everything after learning about phantom#jason will be a fenton before he knows it#“dr fenton im tutoring your son not one of your children”#“arent you the one that hired me?”#where does jason's paycheck come from?#guess someone else can figure it out
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Sometimes it really feels like the world is conspiring to keep me from reading
#first mabel wakes me up at 6am and spends the next hour snorting at me and stomping her little foot until i feed her breakfast#then my period arrives with a fucking vengeance and i have to sit upside down in a chair while wearing a heat pad#then my heat pad DIES (electric heat pad. i like the thing; it’s great that it’s wearable; but the fact that it can die bothers me)#so i had to charge it and i was still not doing well#then my alarm for my knee exercises went off so i had to do them#bear in mind i now have TWELVE exercises to do. up from six#and the standing exercises just about murdered me#so i’m lying on the ground sweating like a bastard; world spinning; an elastic band still wrapped around my thighs#and a fluffy little face appears looking down at my face. and i’m like ‘oh shit yeah! mabel! it’s time for your lunch girl’#so i feed mabel and we go on a walk#we get back and the amazon man is there with lightbulbs and manga and a tarot deck i forgot i even ordered#so i bring those things in and i unpack them and i take out the recycling#then i sit down with my switch to try to do something calming for a bit. but then my constipation breaks#and while i’m in the fucking bathroom the amazon man comes back all ‘sorry i forgot this other package’ and i’m like ‘yeah it happens’#bear in mind the package he forgot was literally the lamp that the bulbs were for. the biggest package of them all. and that’s not#a euphemism for anything. so then i have to assemble the lamp (floor lamp so it did have parts)#then after i finish this mabel comes and bows to me which is her signal for ‘if you don’t take me outside i will do my business#on this floor’ so i take her for ANOTHER walk#i get back and how the FUCK is it almost half past two. i’ve been up since SIX. i haven’t even done anything#i ate some food. i drank some water. i put my body through some bullshit. etc#in conclusion there is a conspiracy to stop me from reading. my dog + my own body + big amazon + my physiotherapist are all in on it#and that’s just who i know about#anyway. if you need me i’m going to put myself in the recovery position for a while#personal
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ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ
✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader
✩ in which: you wake up next to them.
✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey
✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora
🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread
✎ wc: 3.9k
⎯ Aventurine
Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.
You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.
When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.
⎯ Dr. Ratio
The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).
While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.
So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language.
⎯ Boothill
BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.
Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.
When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.
⎯ Gallagher
For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.
That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably.
Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.
⎯ Sunday
As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.
He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about.
Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time.
⎯ Argenti
ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be.
However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.
And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.
⎯Sampo Koski
SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.
When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.
Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.
⎯ Jing Yuan
Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.
As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.
That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning.
⎯ Blade
BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.
You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze.
Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.
⎯ Luocha
While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.
Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?
Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.
⎯ Jiaoqiu
As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.
He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child.
Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.
⎯ Moze
Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.
Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.
He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.
⎯ Dan Heng
With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.
Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.
When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.
⎯ Gepard
GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.
As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.
Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.
⎯ Caelus
What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.
Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.
On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.
⎯ Welt
On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.
Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.
However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.
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Skully J. graves X Yuu!reader
Contains : Head cannons (Mostly J. Graves coming back to live with Yuu in ramshackle)!
Word count : 460 (super short!)
Warnings : None!
A/n : I want to make a fic about him soon and post (more) Twst content! I’m definitely gonna do multiple fandoms on this account but I’m just trying to write more! So if you have any Twst request please lmk!
Also more Delico Nursery fics for sure, just trying to post shorter fics while I’m still busy.
— He retains confusing knowledge, and is strangely thoughtful. He won’t know how to do some basic things sometimes. Yet you’ll be struggling on an advanced assignment from professor Crewel and he’ll somehow know the answer???
“Skully! This assignment is so confusing? Magic theory is confusing, it hardly seems fair to give me a an assignment on advanced magic theory when I can’t even use magic!” He simply Nods his head and leans over your shoulder and glances at the paper. “Oh this is rather simple (then gives an in depth explanation)” which has you stunned for a moment “Skully you didn’t know what a casserole was yesterday? How do you know this?”
— Yet he will never forget facts about you. From your birthday to your preferences on certain foods. Especially if you’re picky he has all your icks memorized.
You and Skully were growing bored on a weekend. Normally time that would be spent with your friends was unfortunately taken from you. Everyone seemed to have plans. Including Grim which is strange (he had detention). So you two walked down to Sam’s shop. You and him stand in an isle looking at various different options. “Skully which ones should we get?” You say turning slightly to look at him. Without a beat of his hesitation, he instantly reaches for your favorite ones. “These ones.” Holding out the bag to you. “Those are my favorites! Good choice.” You smile happily and he quickly responds. “I know.”
— Adores grim! Despite Grims attitude towards him. Grim was neutral towards the man until it he decided to “Get to close to his henchmen”. Alarms went off in Grims head when he was told that Skully would be coming back to NRC with Yuu. He was extremely unhappy, but then he was told he would be staying in ramshackle? Grim practically lost it and pouted for weeks. Though Skully just thinks it’s amusing and earns his trust through tuna cans. (As you had instructed him to do.)
— I literally imagine life with this man as the Adam’s family. If you choose to marry him you all are going to be different in the best way possible. The whole nine yards, cutting off the head of the flowers and only giving you the stems. Your children sharing their father’s obsession with Halloween.
— Best friends with the ghosts in ramshackle. Often times you can overhear them gossiping through the thin walls. He compliments them on their abilities to scare people.
— Major Gentleman! He pulls out all your chairs and opens every door for you. Seven forbid you ever take off your coat without his help. He is simply so deeply Enraptured with you. When he takes off your coat he always takes a couple of moments to admire you. Always having to ground himself.
Another A/N: I’m so excited for Halloween!!
#skully x reader#skully j graves#twst skully#twst wonderland#twst yuu#twst#Skully j graves x reader#twisted wonderland
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