#peep the open ending

[meownotgood]

hallo. if you'd like to be tagged when this fic releases, please reply to this post. you will be added to a taglist and tagged in all subsequent chapters!

please be 18+, and please make sure your age is visable, whether in your bio or a pinned post somewhere. something that says your age, 18+, or adult. otherwise you will be ignored!

[tetrix-anime]

Sasaki to Pii-chan (Sasaki and Peeps) - Creditless Opening and Ending Theme

[tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land]

Just an update on the calendars: they are all packed and ready to be shipped! I’ll be sending em out tomorrow, assuming nothing goes wrong

[rox-of-iu]

Veselé Vánoce ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶🎁

[dourpeep]

>> two more days before I'm done with class for the semester-- we're burning the midnight oil ehe,,

that being said, good memory + thinking to those who will be doing finals this coming week!! You got this! You're pretty much at the finish line!

[welldrawnfish]

Do you know what its like to be trans?

[Comic description: A comic about being trans. Long descriptions follow.

1. A light-skinned trans woman with shoulder-length brown hair stands at her bathroom sink wearing a T-shirt with a fish on it, draped so that her left shoulder hangs out. The text reads, ‘Let me teach you, what its like to be trans.’ 2. A blister pack of unlabelled pills sits next to this are two prescription bottles, one of Estrodial and one of Spironolactone, the latter of which is on its side with pills spilling out. The text reads, ‘What it’s like to spend years of waiting / For the right people to tick the box to tick the box to say your sick enough to get treatment. / Treatment to be you.’ 3. The woman brushes her teeth while looking at a tablet propped up by the sink. The text reads, ‘Do you know what its like to be a prop for political power? / To know they Dont actually care?’ The word ‘actually’ is underlined. 4. The woman sticks her tongue out in concentration as she works on the clasps of a bra behind her back. The text reads, ‘Do you know what it’s like? Do wait years for your body to change?’ 5. The woman starts shaving her cheeks and chin, which are covered in cream. The text reads, ‘What its like to work (emphasis) so (end emphasis) hard to overcome every toxic gender norm?’ 6. The woman touches her own shoulders with an unhappy expression. The text reads, ‘To take stock at the damage puberty has done?’ 7. A bottle of nail polish lies on its side dripping onto the counter. Polish has been splashed against the wall. The woman’s hands are visible in the sink, with just her right thumbnail painted. The text reads, ‘Do you know what its like? / To paint your nails only to see how disgusting your hands make you feel?’ 8. The woman bends over the sink, with her eyes shut and tears streaming down her face. The text says, ‘What its like, To do your makeup wrong / and see every feature you hate (emphasis) highlighted (end emphasis)?’

9. Fully dressed with a bag on her shoulder, the woman stands in her doorway with the door open and light streaming in. The text reads, ‘Do you Know what Its like to go outside? / When all it takes is one person to think that you are large enough danger to childrens lives to end yours.’ 10. The door is closed. A single point of light streams in from the peep hole and hits the woman’s head. She has one hand on the door and is looking down at the doorknob with a sad expression. Her bag lies on the ground beside her. The text says, ‘It paralyzes you.’

11. Back to the scene in the bathroom, similar to the first panel but mirrored and with a large black X scratched over the woman’s face. The text reads, ‘Do you Know what its like? / To not be seen as a person? / Because that’s what you taught me.’ \End descriptions]

[gorejo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 - gojo satoru

synopsis : burdened by the betrayal of your lover's affair, you meet a mysterious man with the strangest demeanor that beholds a scar on his right wrist and has the most beautiful, crystalline eyes. his vulnerability and sincerity stir an emotion you've long forgotten, challenging you to remember who this man exactly was in your past.

content : highly unedited due to wc. mdni. smut. she/her pronouns. afab!/fem reader. reader is smaller than gojo. mentions of suicide, death, miscarriage, and blood. infidelity. gojo has yāndere tendencies. cúnnilingus. creampíe. squirting. unprotected séx. car séx. pet names (princess, angel, baby, sweetheart). fingering. deep thrōating. missionary. manhandling. overstim. mention of baby trapping ? male masturbation. emotional/verbal abuse. mentions of audio/video recordings. Gojo uses a fake name. angst but a happy ending ◡̈ heavily inspired by ‘tears on a withered flower.’ especially with the big plot points/dialogue.

wc : 25k.... i should've split this into multiple parts.... but decided to just put it into one whole post. if it's too much for you, it's written so you can read it in multiple parts ◡̈

from ae : it's been so long since I've written anything... so I hope you guys can enjoy . love y'all !! header @/MJJ_0503 on twt

p.s. : i will not accept any slandering of the reader. if you do, I'll block you. Not all readers need to be boss ladies and independent. it's fictional writing, so become the character.

Grandma used to tell you stories about the demons that lurk at night. She would bewitchingly share in a calm voice, where even the hottest of summers felt cold during those darkest of nights whenever she told this story with her frail fingers brushing against your cheeks as you stayed hidden under the blankets. 

The Devil’s hours.

“They wait for their next victim in the dark,” she warned, her face devoid of playful gestures, yet her lips threatened to twitch when she witnessed your facade flood with a multitude of expressive emotions, “they wait just for the right time for people to become weak, and it’s only then…!” she would startle you, always with the same threat of tickles and peppers of kisses.

“They’ll devour and spit out the bones of any disobedient children that don’t listen to their Obachan,” pinching your nose before placing a soft goodnight kiss on your forehead, “so young lady, I hope I don’t hear of any silly business during the night coming from your room.”

“But Obachan, I always listen to you!” cheerfully retaliating with only your face peeping through the blankets, your small hands grasping against the edge of the fabric. 

“Of course, you do, my sweet pea,” your grandma's voice slowly faded, “never trust the devil —”

A distant memory dulled through your thoughts as you heard a familiar ring.

Despite being years since you’ve last heard such a tale, you should’ve known getting a text at 2:37 am never meant any good — it was called the devil’s hours for a reason. 

A sixth sense? Or was it your poor intuition? 

The whiplash of anxiety that crept through your bones the minute you heard your phone buzz, immediately woke you from any intent of possibly sleeping. 

But you guessed it couldn’t be so bad to open it. Demons were nothing but folklore, an urban legend the adults believed. 

But… Grandma was never wrong. 

And through your ignorance, that night you were faced with three misfortunes.

First, the bright light of your phone burned into your pupils, almost making it seem as if what was your deemed punishment to witness such a scene.

Second.

“Hanako,” a familiar voice moaned out, gripping her body with his face caved into her neck, clinging onto her as if she was his lifeline — his refuge. 

You could hear the sinful slapping of their sweaty skin brewing a crimson red as their naked bodies linked as one.

You can almost see the sweat dripping down his temple, his hot breath fanning over her face as her feet pushed his hips further down into her body, his throbbing cock filling her to the core.

It seemed too natural for this to have been any mistake. You wonder if he wore the cologne you’ve bought him, yet she was the one to inhale the scent of your man at night. The red claw marks of her nails scratching against his muscular back, gripping onto his heated body as his cock crashed into her repeatedly in impactful motions, her voluptuous mounds bouncing with each desperate thrust of that man — your fiance. 

Your boyfriend embarrassingly in the talks of hopefully getting married in the next year when you’ve paid all his debt, fucking another girl with desperate grunts and needy moans. Though grainy you can see his ignorance of being filmed when he sobs out her name. 

And there, clearly visible was her face smiling, taunting as she placed a mocking kiss on his shoulder, the edges of her swollen lips with lipstick smeared turned upward with a lascivious smile, her nimble fingers combing through his hair as she whispered into his ear,

“You’re mine, baby, harder!”

You should’ve known nothing good comes out of the devil’s hour. Approximately around this time was when legend states the devil roams to haunt its prey, gathering weak souls to harvest and devour during the quietest of nights. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned into her neck, biting at her skin as Hanako looked straight into the camera, “‘m close.”

Maybe he was in search of you — a pawn prepped for the demon himself to consume.

While she, as her name resounds, bloomed like a flower, shamelessly opening up herself to whom you supposed was your man.

“feels so good,” her voice elevated in pitch, her body bruised and marked while her breasts bounced with every stroke of your lover’s cock inside her, pushing her tight walls to embrace the length of your man, “you’re so big Kōji,” she bewitchingly purred. 

Yes, because surely nothing good comes from receiving a text at this time of day. With your heart thumping in your chest while your hands shake from the horror that you’ve just seen. Your world completely shattering at the crack of dawn.

A text at 2:37 A.M from an unknown number.

It’s never wise to be awake during the devil’s hours.

Force yourself to close your eyes at the least, and maybe the demons won’t rob you of your subconscious. 

For the demons lurk in the dark, voraciously starving for their next meal, reeling you into his possessions to harvest for himself.

Ding!

You hoped for an answer to this debauchery, anything to save you from this mess. 

But there you receive your last misfortune in the form of a mysterious man and a text.

From: Satoru.

Just ended work ~

See you tomorrow at the bar, angel.

—- months prior.

Your lids felt heavy. Each step up to your boss’s office felt tortuous from the lack of sleep you’ve gotten the past couple of nights. It didn’t help that your fiance hadn’t come home the night prior, nor were you getting any thoughtful response outside of his blunt answers of “busy” or “can’t talk.”

“He’s probably busy,” you reassured yourself, despite the tickling of uneasiness that energetically synergized in your heart, making you feel nauseous, as you scrolled through your last messages with him, “yea, he’s just busy.” You tried comforting yourself — a skill you’ve mastered over the lonesome years.

Kōji Nakamura, your boyfriend of thirteen years, got hired into an established company a couple of months back. It wouldn’t be out of the norm for the new hire to be front-loaded with new tasks and responsibilities, trying to learn the job while impressing his coworkers and higher-ups, attending late company dinners to pour liquor for his boss. 

Slightly jolting when you felt your phone vibrate, a short wave of expectation that threatens your mind only for disappointment to shatter all existence of hope when the sender was from anyone but him. 

From: Akiyama-san

Hello dear! No need to come in today! Someone has bought out the whole motel for the night! I’ll manage the night, so rest up.

To: Akiyama-San

No, it’s okay! I’ll still fulfill my shift — 

And before you could respond you received another text from her.

From: Akiyama-San

You’ll still be paid so don’t worry.

“Guess this is good,” you muttered under your breath as you continue your way, quickly responding to the text with a thank you, “Kōji usually comes home early today,” you sighed. Your chest felt heavy, a dull ache that resonated deeply inside from somewhere vacant and dismissed, “M-maybe I can make his favorite dish and surprise him.”

You nervously typed out, carefully curating a message that wasn’t too clingy, yet showed how much you’ve missed him — needed him.

To: My Kōji.

Will you be home for dinner today? Miss you…

Maybe tonight you could finally confess; surely, he’ll understand. He's always wanted — 

“Dress up a little, yea?” Kōji boringly berated you as he examined your clothes, giving you a moment of attention as he lied in front of the television.

“I just don’t have much,” you softly confessed, folding up his new undergarments while sitting on the floor to organize your boyfriend’s clothes.

“You know, guys don’t like it when their women wear shirts that are all stretched out and old-fashioned? Have some decency, will you? It’s embarrassing.”

“What’s wrong with what I have?” you questioned, now used to the cold banter of your fiance, “w-we just don’t have that type of leisure, Kōji…”

“There you go again bringing down the mood,” Kōji disapprovingly sighed, his attention back to the screen, “read the room, it’s not like you’re the only one working,” he murmured just loud enough for you to hear.

Your finger hovered over the send button, biting your lip as you contemplated, your heart rate ricocheting in your chest wondering if he, too, was awaiting your message, or if he’d reprimand you for bothering him while he was busy at work. 

You hoped Kōji would come early to simply be with you, for today was rather a sensitive day. A day where it feels more gloomy and weathered than usual, the type of day that pulls you down and strips you of any dignity — left to crawl on the dirt and succumb to the wounds of an unfair world.

Your mind wanders to the last memory of the photo lay hidden in a box — a secret between you and angels that took such sacred possession from you, a tale Kōji has yet to find out. 

You didn’t have the leisure to think further when your boss interrupted your inner dilemma.

“Good morning,” he welcomed you in, chuckling, “don’t just stand there, come, come and sit.”

Quickly turning off your phone and stuffing it into your pocket, you figured you could think about it later.

“Ah my apologies,” you murmured, ashamed your boss might assume negatively of your character for standing outside his door without quickly alerting him, “Good morning Ishihara-San,” you quietly sat on the couch, “is there a reason why you needed to see me, sir?”

“Ah yes,” Ishihara-San took a sip of his coffee, “I need you to do me a favor,” he let down his cup as his eyes gleamed with hope, “Not particularly a favor, but a duty?” Ishihara-San formed a crooked smile, “There’s been a request from a possible investor that he meet with someone from our company.”

You were confused as to why that had to do anything with you because your work generally consisted of inputting data, making copies for meetings, and brewing coffee for your project lead.

“Sorry sir, I’m having a hard time following why you would need to consult with me over this, there are many qualified —”

“Well… the thing is,” your boss crossed his legs and leaned back with a gentle smile, “he wants you.”

“M-me?” skeptical of such truth, weighing on the side that your boss probably heard wrong, “Are you sure, sir? I’m not one to know much — ”

“Very,” he grinned, “he was very clear about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say but I won’t be able to commit to such an agreement tonight,” quickly looking down as you tightened the nervous grip of your palms, “I have a prior engagement,” you solemnly confessed.

“Is it because of your part-time job?” Your boss bluntly questioned, “If that’s the issue then no need to worry, he stated you’ll be compensated generously for your time.”

“No no, not today sir,” you smiled, “I just wanted to do something nice for my fiance,”  you cracked a nervous smile, rubbing your thumbs together as a measure of self reassurance. 

“Ah, I see… Well,” exhaling a long breath, “that can’t be helped —” his phone vibrated on the coffee table, illuminating a contact name that you failed to see.

Immediately grasping hold of his phone, “If you’ll give me a second,” his expression eased with what he’d read, “well, it must be your lucky day,” your boss hummed, quickly standing up, making his way over to you. “The investor pushed forward the time, so if you go now, it’ll give you plenty of time to have your date with Kōji-san.”

“S-sir!” Your boss was unwilling to hear it as he pushed you out of his office, and gave a supportive squeeze to your shoulders. 

“I’d advise you to go now, don’t want to keep our guest waiting!”

“Who is it that I’m supposed to meet?” you quickly asked, shocked at the quick your boss was to kick you out.

“He’ll find you.” Was all the advise he gave you before sending you off.

And that’s how you end up walking up to a dimly lit bar, on a Wednesday afternoon at the center of Tokyo’s metropolitan area. It was close to the flower shop that you worked at during the weekends, and a few blocks down from the motel you were supposed to spend the night working at. It was oddly strange to come across such a place since you never had the leisure to look beyond the steps that you took ahead for work. 

“The map says this is the place,” you murmured, looking up at the sophisticated restaurant sign that illuminated brightly, which contrasted your somber, drained expression. The world looked beautiful, foreign outside your scope of reality. You immediately felt out of touch, isolated and lonely. 

The atmosphere itself felt expensive with its polished furniture and reclusive dining options for those in the upper echelon, and it certainly didn’t feel comfortable walking in with your mundane articles of clothing that dampened your features compared to those who dressed eloquently beside you.

You normally didn’t wear much makeup, nor doused yourself in perfume. Living leisurely was a luxury for you. Especially when there was a mountainous amount of debt that’s been accruing interest with each breathing moment.

Everything was shattered — dishes, cups, the beloved lamp that you’ve cautiously stored as your grandmother’s loom laid barren on the floor, lifeless yet chaotic. 

You didn’t even have the energy to cry, or the courage to breathe yet tears streamed down your face as you slumped to the floor from the recent distress of loansharks rummaging through your shared apartment, breaking anything and everything they came across. 

By default his arms tightly weaved around your stomach, his shaky breath reassuring you as he shamelessly hid his face into the crook of your neck – he too shaken from the abrupt mayhem witnessed not only but five minutes ago.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his voice felt shaky under his breath, “i’m so so sorry,” he repeatedly confessed as you woefully cried in your distress.

… “When we pay this off,” his tears pooled on your shoulder, “let’s get married, yea? I promise… I’ll make you happy.”

That was already five years ago you mindlessly thought while scanning the room, looking for the stranger that you had to accompany for a possible business investment while absentmindedly touching your ring finger still vacant of any promise of marriage. 

“Find me?” you questioned your boss’s words, “how does he know me?”

You wondered who this person could be that they were adamant that it had to be you. Was it a past acquaintance? No, you didn’t know anyone in such authority, albeit someone powerful enough to invest money into a company.

Or was it a debt collector? No… they haven’t been showing up since you’ve been paying them promptly. 

Maybe it was some old freak that you encountered at work? You come across those occasionally. Asking for sexual favors while drunk, when all you’re paid to do was assign them a motel room and hand them the key, wishing them a good night. 

The job paid well, and Akiyama-san was a nice older lady. You were in no circumstance to contemplate if a job was worth sticking through or not when there was a pile of debt to be paid by the end of each month. 

You best decided it would be better to keep your guards up, whoever it was… he wasn’t someone to be trusted.

“Found you,” a deep voice whispered behind you.

Quickly turning your head to see a white haired man, looking at you through his sunglasses, the hint of his cologne was hypnotizing.

“My,” his voice was sultry and enticing, like a predator luring in his prey, looming from the heights as you flinched at the sudden attention, his face dangerously close to yours, “you’re even more beautiful up close,” the stranger whispered, his eyes landing to your lips. 

“Excuse me?” you fastidiously grasped hold of your ear in shock from the impending behavior of this odd stranger.

“My apologies, I didn’t intend to scare my future business partner,” he smiled, still craning down to meet your height as his face level with yours, his cerulean eyes mildly covered by his sunglasses as he scanned your face,, “let’s just say I like pretty things.” his canines sparkled under the light.

You looked up, immediately locking with his eyes, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest — intense yet soft lazuline and deep, an abyss filled with wonders, tempting you into it. There was something oddly familiar in those eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint as he stared back at you, it held something that you couldn’t understand. 

Taking a step back, unable to hold eye contact with such intensity as you clutched your chest, you held out your hand to properly introduce yourself. This is work you reminded yourself of. Ishihara-san would be displeased if I was rude to a potential asset to the company.

“Hello, I’m —”

“Acting so formal,” the man plopped down on the counter seat, his veinous forearms showing with his shirt properly buttoned to his elbow, propped out on the edge under his large coat, “sit, I don’t bite.”

Strange. He was most definitely unusual.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you softly stated before carefully sitting next to the man, quickly noticing his features.

He was big — heads taller than you. His stature was prominent, more defined than a models when he simply wore a black dress shirt with a couple of buttons undone, black slacks slightly more fitting on his thighs with a belt that accentuated his thin waist, an expensive-looking watch with shoes perfectly buffed. 

His hair was anything you’ve seen. White with a shine that made it obliterating graceful, tempting to run your hands through, the polish slightly undone to create a lightly distressed look, yet still exquisitely showed his forehead. 

He was probably in his 30s, yet he could outperform any man in their prime with the stature and face card that he’s got.

But his eyes, you couldn’t get yourself to think outside of the deep depth of power his eyes relayed. It was as if you were the one missing the piece, while he, a total stranger, knew everything there was to be about you. And you noticed, the scar under his right wrist probably feigned a deep, dark memory for him that pained your heart for this stranger. 

But again, this was solely business. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, “just to make sure…” your heart still pounded, “are you the one Ishihara-san told me about?”

“Depends on what he’s told you about,” he lightly hummed, a small smile forming on his glossy lips.

“That you were looking to invest in our company?”

“An investment you say,” he chuckled as he turned his body around to face you, his cheeks resting on his palm, “well… I guess, you can say that.”

“What do you mean —”

“Yamakage,” he cut you off to introduce himself, “Satoru, if you’d like to get more personal, I wouldn’t mind,” he flirted. 

Responding with heat to your cheeks, you gave him your name despite unknowing how to correctly respond to his proactive engagement of flirting in a business meeting, “Nice to meet you, Yamakage-san.”

“Yeah, I already know. It’s pretty,” he admitted. His innocuous tone felt something more as if he was agreeing at the foreknowledge of your name, or if he was simply playing with you, you weren’t sure. “Your name, it’s pretty.”

You couldn’t brush off the fact he felt so familiar, like a lost acquaintance that you should remember. Like a faint memory, his presence teased your senses. 

“H-How do you know my name?” you found the courage to ask, quickly embarrassed at the question when Ishihara-san most likely informed him of his employee’s name, “ah I’m sorry for the stupid question… Ishihara-san probably told you.”

“I’m hurt,” Satoru pouted, a faint tease to his voice as he nonchalantly stared at you, “that you don’t remember me.”

“Have we met before?” you cautiously asked, worried that you’d upset him, possibly bearing a hindrance to the business deal.

“Of course,” he sighed, stretching out his long legs, caging your seated form as he easily scooted you closer in, “many times, in fact.” Again, whether it was a habit of his to speak to people so intimately, staring deep into their eyes, it was a fact that he was dangerously too close. 

“‘M sorry,” you murmured, shy from the intensity of his eyes, “But I don’t seem to remember —”

You saw his eyes stop at a certain area of your face as you spoke, his gaze shortly fixated on the small scar you had just below your right eye. You swore you saw his jaws clench for a brief moment, before softening up when he answered you.

“The flower shop,” he answered, his face easing up with a sing-song tone.

Your ears perked up at his statement, questioning if someone like him had ever guested the shop.

“You work there every weekend, right?” Satoru continued, “Tell me, what must I do to get your attention next time?”

You distantly remember your coworker speaking highly of a man who would come every weekend, oftentimes pointing him out whenever he would walk through the doors. You faintly remember a white-haired man who would buy a bouquet of roses every time, but if you were frankly honest, you didn’t quite care who came in. A customer is a customer, and time was money. You had Kōji and bills to pay, and that’s all that should matter. Remembering each customer that you’ve met was impossible with the multiple jobs you juggled. 

“I-I’ll make it a point to remember you,” you tried making him feel better, the beating of your chest thumping loudly. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he could hear your heart by how close he was sitting, “I hope my rudeness doesn’t impede in your decision to invest in our company.”

“I hear you as making a promise,” Satoru chuckled, amused at your priorities to win over this deal, “promises are a dangerous thing to make, you know?” His words felt like a double edge sword with the way he stared at you so intensely. 

“I simply wouldn’t want to disappoint my boss.” you honestly confessed.

“I see,” he hummed, “a businessman never forgets a promise, you know?” his words sounded like a threat, yet his demeanor was far from it. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you answered, “is there anything I can do for you?”

As if he’s been waiting for your invitation, Satoru slides his phone towards you with a cheeky smile, “Your number, that’s a great start.”

You type in your number, handing it over to him as he receives it with a smirk. Simultaneously his bodyguards quickly stand from across the bar, whispering in his ear and briefly bowing before making their way out.

“What a shame,” the mysterious man stated while standing up, a hint of impatience in his voice, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave now. I have some rather annoying business to take care.”

“Wait —Yamakage-San!” you quickly uttered, surprised as your hand immediately grasped hold of his forearm, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he stated, pleased at the physical contact, as he glanced at your small hand grabbing hold of him.

“Is there a reason why you wanted to meet with me specifically?” still clueless as to why he asked for you when nothing was resolved in terms of this deal besides him getting your phone number. 

Grasping hold of your hand, it felt warm, mildly calloused yet perfectly groomed and unblemished. Lifting it up to place a gentle kiss on the back, his lips felt soft as you assumed, “I just want to get to know you, that’s all.”

——

Kōji knew it was wrong. He wasn’t brainless to know cheating on you was, in fact, wrong. It wasn’t something he planned on doing when he entered the company. The relationship started on a curious note. She was just so different from you and she itched a part of himself that he’s longed for you to embrace. To a drunken mistake after a company dinner, one thing led to another, and here he was with his cock shamelessly embraced by her warm insides, his hands molding her ass as he fucked her in the steamy car. 

It was a shame right before fucking her, it was so easy to eat at your favorite restaurant that he’s failed to take you in years — with an old acquaintance a couple of years shy of both yours and his from college, Hanako Miwayaki. 

No one at his company knew he was in a relationship before getting hired. Ever so, he was the handsome bachelor that his superiors tried to nudge him and the pretty, and young Miwayaki-san that feigned interest in him the moment he started, from getting together. 

“I—I love you!” she managed to whimper out through their exchange of sloppy kisses, her long fingers grasping hold of his hair as she continued to press her body onto his naked torso, “Kōji more!”

Kōji held her hips close as he watched how his slick-coated shaft would go in and out of her swollen entrance, silently cursing at how warm she felt around him. 

“Fuck,” Kōji cursed under his breath, simultaneous to how he gently squeezed one of her mounds, the grip of her pussy suffocating him even more, “keep going, just like that,” he unabashedly confessed.

But all Kōji could think of, despite the woman he held in his arms tonight, was you. It would always strike a nerve whenever he would open his eyes, instead of Hanako who appealed to his desires and easily spread her legs for him, he would suffocatingly see a glimpse of you. 

And that made him want to fuck Hanako even more. 

“K-Kōji” she would sweetly moan for his name, pleased to see her lover rutting his shaft into her. Such a sight was enough for him to go crazy over, wanting nothing but to do this all night until they had satiated themselves with the reciprocity of love and lust combined. 

Hanako had a mesmerizing beauty. And her skin was always perfect under her makeup. She smelled rich and always wore clothes that highlighted her hourglass figure, unlike you, who’d wear loose articles of clothing like an old lady. 

Her breasts fit into the palm of his hands, but they seemed to always lack a certain something compared to yours. He thought it was a shame how he’d never noticed her before. Maybe he would’ve if all he’d ever known wasn’t you — his first love since high school. 

The car quickly filled with a stench of lust. The windows were tainted with fog as the two of them filled themselves with one another. 

Hanako started to mewl at how rough her boyfriend was being, the increase in his pace was too unbearable to last a second further when her impending orgasm was threatening to release. 

“Ngh!” she managed to let out, with Kōji's cock pistoling inside her, his movements becoming uneven while spurts of his seed collected inside his condom.

“I wanna feel you without it,” Hanako pouted with her boyfriend’s face buried in the crook of her neck, further planting herself down his member, intentionally clenching on his overstimulated cock. With their chests panting for heavy breaths after their rendezvous, she was pleased to hear his groaning as his arms further embraced her tightly, “don’t you want to feel better, Kōji?” she tried persuading like shaking her spanked ass.

“We’re not kids, don’t be so reckless,” Kōji huffed out, unaware of the irony to his words while looking up at the ceiling, irked that you’d ask him to always wear a condom when —

“You’re no fun,” Hanako lifted herself to cup his sweaty face, her lips feverishly kissing her partner. Her tongue soon entering his mouth where the hot flesh swirled sinfully with his. 

She smiled when she felt his cock hardened again inside her. “Kōji,” Hanako bit his lower lip, teasingly looking down through her lashes as she pulled herself from his member, reaching down to pull off the used condom. 

“Let’s go up to my apartment.”

Kōji knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t come home the day prior, and you’d probably be stupidly waiting for him.

“I can’t tonight —”

Her lips crashed onto his again, a threatening message that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, “You’re going to send away your poor girlfriend to sleep all alone at night?”

It’s not like you would entice him and want him like Hanako did. So what was the point of keeping some sort of loyalty to you when he’s just fooled around with another woman?

“Fuck it,” he groaned before quickly zipping up his pants, ignoring Hanako’s giggle as she led him up the stairs, practically prancing in her skirt with no panties underneath, uncaring of the person that may have seen such wretched acts he’s committed. 

After all, it was shameless what he was doing. And Kōji knew it. Because his thoughts weren’t of the woman he just had sex with, but it was filled with thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance. 

As he mixed his body with Hanako, he thought of ramming his cock inside your tight, warm cunt, squeezed magically by your plush, velvet walls. 

And as he kissed her, his thoughts were full of how your breasts would wildly bounce as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot, deeply inside. 

Would you let him take you on all fours, just like how he had Hanako currently positioned? Ass up and breasts planted to the mattress? 

Despite Hanako being deliciously naked before him, with his aching member ramming inside her, penetrating her tight insides until it becomes swollen and dripping with his cum, he hears your voice, oh so faintly as Hanako breathlessly moans, “I-I love you.”

——

It wasn’t common for Kōji to not come for the night. 

You wondered if he was alright as you sat alone in your apartment, with his favorite meal cooked you’ve splurged to make, dipping into your personal expenses — miso soup with grilled unagi. 

You felt awfully lonely despite living inside a small apartment, and everything felt foreign and distant without him there with you. There wasn’t much you owned, just the absolute essential. But it somehow always lacked a vital piece that would make you feel more at ease.

Him, you thought as tears coated your eyes. 

You would often wonder where things went possibly wrong, and how you could fix it. But every time you would contemplate, you were stuck on finding the answer.

Your phone brightly illuminated the dark room. Your eyes blurry from the tears, you quickly brushed them off with your sleeve. It pricked at your sensitive skin at how tattered the cloth had become. 

From an unknown sender

This is Satoru.

It’s a rather beautiful night!

Sends a picture of the brightened moonlit sky.  Hope you sleep well tonight >_< It was nice to finally meet you.

And just when you were about to save his number, a single text popped up, immediately crushing your heart into pieces.

From: My Kōji.

Gonna be late. Don’t wait for me.

—- a month since meeting Satoru.

If you were to say it was a coincidence that would be wrong because how many coincidences can there be to be a blatant fact that you might have a stalker?

“Yamakage-san,” you breathlessly stated as you almost ran into his chest, carrying multiple cups of coffee for your coworkers. 

“You okay?” he chuckled, easily taking the cups from you with his large hands, “but fancy seeing you here,” he stated while looking down from his height at your disheveled self, quickly noticing something. 

“Y-you scared me.” Your cheeks felt hot as adrenaline rushed through your body.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” Satoru chuckled as he put down the coffee, leading you to a seat before crouching down on one knee and tying your undone shoelaces.

“I- I can do that!” you tried to quickly swat his hands away, embarrassed at how many people were staring at the modelesque man being such a gentleman.

“I know you can. But let me.” His voice felt warm, caring almost. “Don’t want you tripping and falling over my good looks, do we?” he looked up, winking as he finished the knot. You noticed the scar again on his wrist, mutely blemishing his pale skin. It was hard to notice under his watch, but prominent enough for it to catch your attention. 

“It must've hurt…” you quietly mumbled to yourself. 

Or the instance when you were checking a customer out at the convenience store, giving them the total only to look up to see a silent man in a dark helmet, tall with wide shoulders, comforted in casual clothing as he slid his phone onto the counter.

Have you fallen for me yet? :P

“Yamakage-san,” you sighed out, “it’s dangerous to ride a motorcycle when it’s this dark. Are you coming from work?”

Your words took you aback. 

Were you being too meddling? It’s a bit ridiculous to suddenly intervene when he was a grown adult. You nervously bit your lip if you overstepped your boundaries. Stupid, of course, he’s coming from home, look at his clothes. 

“Something like that.” Pulling his helmet off, shaking his messy hair perfectly to look styled. “Then what should I do?” he asked with a playful smile, his hands grasping the counter as he leaned forward.

“Tell me,” he pressed, unbreaking eye contact, “I’ll be good and listen well.”

Turning your face away, you murmured, “Just be careful —” your eyes looking down to see his scar again, ”it’s easy to get hurt at night.”

His eyes immediately locate your attention on his wrist. And that did a number to him that he didn’t quite expect. You probably didn’t see the murderous grip he had on the counter, the throbbing pulse of his crotch suffocating in his pants as he clenched his jaw, doing whatever the hell he could, to contain himself from taking you as hostage and keeping you — all of you — for himself. 

But you’d probably not like it. And he couldn’t afford to do that, so that was enough for him to swallow his thick, adrenaline induced saliva down his parched throat as he restrained himself from acting like a maniac. 

Completely unaware and unsuspecting of the lascivious thoughts this man had of you, Satoru smirked as he lifted up the hem of his sleeve, showing more of his scar as your eyes widened. 

So fucking cute. 

His sharp canines glistened as he let out a handsome yet pestiferous smile. Satoru didn’t even bother hiding the corners of his lips from twitching. “It doesn't hurt, you know?” further pulling up his sleeve for you to get a better view, “you can even touch it, if you don’t believe me, angel.”

Lifting your trembling finger to gently touch his skin, “H-how’d you get it?” you cautiously asked hoping you weren’t overbearing.  

“I tried killing myself.” Satoru bluntly stated, shrugging as he watched your finger glide against his skin. 

In a split moment a static memory flashes before you.

“Onii-chan,” your small hands reach over to grasp the hand of a boy couple years older than you, patched up with bandages with tears welled up in his eyes as he stood over the rooftop ledge, “Obachan said that’s very dangerous! You’ll get a big owie when you fall.”

You're brought back to the present, shocked at the sudden memory you had.

What the hell was that? 

Satoru’s face was indiscernible from where you stood. His soft blue eyes still magnificently sparkled, and his lips held the prettiest shade of pink. The wisps of his bangs, contrary to his usual updo style, hid a portion of his expression that you weren’t able to decipher. 

What were you supposed to do? What can you possible say? 

But before you could register, you asked him a simple response. 

With unexpected tears dwelling in your eyes for the man in front of you. “Are you still hurting?” 

For a brief moment everything within Satoru became still. The universe felt like it stopped spinning on axis, and the balance of the world had become altered. It was you — you had substantial power over him. And Satoru couldn’t help but feel euphoric, a deep sense of bliss brewing from the most inward portions, like a symphony building up to a fortissimo, Satoru couldn’t help but belted out a laugh. 

You weren’t entirely sure if he was crazy, or if he was portraying a trauma response, but despite his rambunctious laughter, Satoru, like you, lived a life masked in pain. 

“Yama —” Without waiting for your response, Satoru jokingly wiped off a tear, “I’m joking, princess. I’m too handsome for that.”

“You’re the worst,” you muttered before quickly turning away to finish restocking the aisles, “this is why you don’t have a girlfriend at your age,” you snapped at him. 

Following behind like a puppy, wagging it’s tale waiting for his playtime, his height practically swallowing you, “sure… that’s valid,” nodding his head as he pursed his lips.  “But, I think,” stepping closer, until completely cornering you so that you were forced to see eye to eye with him, “ that’s a you problem, princess.” Pinching your nose as his minty, cool breath brushed through your cheeks.

“But look at you!” His expression gleaming with his voice raised at a higher, teasing pitch, “worrying about me! I’m so touched!” tightly wrapping you in his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your lungs. 

…

Or the other instance, just yesterday, when you met him on a rainy day, outside the flower shop just as you were about to make your way home. 

“Are you stalking me?” Your words mindlessly left your lips. You’ve grown rather comfortable with the once stranger, now, unknowingly expecting his presence. 

“Would you want me to do that?” He stepped forward, smirking in mischief as his height loomed over you, droplets of water dripping from his white bangs, his words testing you. “It’s quite easy to do that.”

It was undeniable you’ve grown accustomed to this man. Despite meeting him no more than a month prior, he felt rather comfortable. Like an old friend you’ve rekindled a friendship with. 

Yamakage-San was kind. He was attentive and thoughtful. His words oftentimes left you speechless with his abrash ways of flirting, but he was nonetheless gentle with you. The way his fingers would lightly brush against your skin felt like a tease. And how he would attentively listen despite when you had nothing interesting to say, made you feel seen. 

He somehow was filling an empty void Kōji left vacant, and you subconsciously allowed a stranger you’ve met so shortly to fill that spot. 

And how could you forget the texts he sends with unexpectedly cute emoticons even though you rarely respond back? 

It was a lie to say he was simply handsome. He looked unreal. With his tall height and slender figure, packed on with muscles under his tight collar shirt, it didn’t take an artist to imagine the intricate details of his finely sculpted body underneath his clothes. 

“Mind if I walk you home?” he softly asked, taking a step closer to button up your coat from the cold. You could almost smell his faint cologne as you looked at his feet placed right next to your smaller set.

“Will you leave if I say no?”

“Mhm,” he softly responded, “I told you I’ll listen and be good.”

You looked up at him. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, maybe that’s why his eyes seemed to sparkle even more. And it made your heart rapidly beat in your chest upon seeing his eyes again.

Strange, you thought when felt your stomach tickle.

“Only up to the bus stop,” you murmured, “Kōji didn’t take an umbrella so I have  —” You felt a sense of guilt when you said your boyfriend’s name. There shouldn’t be a reason to feel as such, but oddly you felt something tug at your heart when his name left your lips.

“Sure. Guess he forgot his umbrella?” Satoru was quick to respond, “ he’s lucky to have you,” he offered a sweet smile before opening up his umbrella and inviting you over.

Despite his long legs, Satoru walked rather slowly. Unlike Kōji, where you had to catch up to his speed, this man seemed to carefully walk at your pace, maybe even slower to stand slightly behind you. 

From your peripheral, you could see his right shoulder drenched from the rain. Yet, not a droplet of water hit you.

“How tall are you?” You managed to break the silence. Kōji was tall, but Satoru felt even taller. “Are you over 6'0"?”

“I haven’t measured myself, but most likely.” He answered while glancing down at you, “Why? Do you know a lot about men’s heights?”

Of course, being together with Kōji for nine years, you knew a thing or two about men.

“Mhm,” you nodded, ignorant of the slight annoyance on Satoru’s face.

“you're making me jealous.” Satoru gripped the umbrella handle, clenching his jaws before you made a stop to lightly tug at his coat to get his attention, innocently trying to make him feel better. “Don’t be! You’re the tallest person I know, Yamakage-san!”

You hear a honk from behind. soon water splashed towards you as a dark vehicle drove by. And in that split second, you're suddenly caged in his arms, your cheeks resting on his strong chest. 

That was scary and dangerous for anyone to be driving at such a speed, you mentally scolded the reckless driver.

You felt his voice vibrating through his pectorals, his body pressing against yours. “I’m big, huh?”

Wait. huh? What is this —? 

“Excuse me?” Your cheeks heat up when you realize the compromising position you are both in, immediately pushing him when you feel the curve of his crotch firmly outlining against your stomach. “Sorry! Yamakage — ” You quickly removed yourself, your hands pushing against his damp coat soiled from the dirt that the car rudely splashed while driving off. 

“No need, just saying that my chest is big,” he teased before wiping a droplet of rain that fell onto your cheeks, “also how about you drop the honorifics? I think we’re far past that, especially when you willingly put your cheeks on my chest and I just sacrificed my life for you.”

“I did not,” you embarrassingly coughed, emphasizing his name, “and Yamakage-san, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Boo,” he rolled his eyes before, “and they say chivalry is dead when I practically saved you just now,” the grown man mumbled under his breath, pouting as he continued to walk at your slow pace. 

Satoru could see the bus stop was nearby, but off in the corner, he saw something that piqued his interest. A couple running under the rain, sharing a small umbrella much similar to him with you. 

And if there was another thing your grandma taught you was that there’s no such thing as a coincidence. Everything is a result of a decision — good or bad. 

“We’re almost here —” your voice suddenly faints when you catch what Satoru was looking at. 

The heavy rain may have caused your vision to become blurry, but it was easy to mask the tears that suddenly welled up in your eyes. A rush of emotions and thoughts ran through your head, the insecurities and doubts that you’ve been pushing off to the side, were now forced in front of you to acknowledge.

“Kōji…” you quietly whispered as you watched your fiance intimately running into a shop with a woman tightly embracing his arm.

Your heart hurt, melting into inexplicable pain as you watched him fondle another woman with such care and diligence as he wiped off the rain from her cheeks, and shoulders, smiling proudly with his cheeks a tint of rose from the cold.

You missed him, of course you did. That much more, it was harder to witness him looking so happy, knowing despite your efforts to reconnect and act like nothing strained your relationship with him, the pain was always there, stabbing you to the core.

Yet the only thing you could do was to look away. Trusting that it was simply a coworker Kōji was being courteous too. 

And your companion stood next to you, eyes void of emotion despite his impatience brewing as he watched you be soft to that thing when you were hurting because of it. Satoru couldn’t understand why you’d chose to waste your tears on such trash.

Licking his lips, he wished you would cry for him. Maybe if he pushed it further,  you would. Then maybe he’ll have a chance at comforting you… but then again, that would scare you, and he didn’t want to do that. Especially not, when it took him so long.

Looking off in the far corner, his assistant stood in the rain, bowing to signal he’s concluded his duties, before taking off in a black car. 

——

As usual, Kōji came home late. Throwing down his briefcase, he grumbled at how wet his suit had gotten as he stripped himself to go into the shower, leaving a trail of his clothes behind for you to pick up.

And as he surpassed you, you got a whiff of a fragrant scent that was foreign to you. A woman’s perfume — it’s her, your intuition alerted you. 

Ever since you saw him smiling at the other woman, that was the one thing that plagued your mind, and you didn’t have the courage to ask him.

“Did you get a new cologne?” Your lips trembled as you asked. Hoping, internally praying, he wouldn’t say anything to prove your cheating allegations.

“Yea, from a friend,” he bluntly answered, turning the faucet for his shower. 

“Kōji.” His name naturally rolled off your lips, and in response, his head whirled towards you in less than a second. “Is it hard at work? Y-you’ve been coming home late these days,” you muttered. 

For a brief moment Kōji looked expectant before his eyes quickly dulled out, now purposefully avoiding your gaze. At the moment, he wasn’t feeling guilty in the slightest, but the contortion of his visage as he answered you before going into the shower told you otherwise. 

“Took you long enough to ask.”

“Yea… he’s just tired,” you reminded yourself, “I need to do better.” 

——

You weren’t necessarily the best at responding to his messages. Hell, he didn’t even expect you to. Just knowing you’ve read them was more than enough for him.

Satoru said he’ll be patient. That he’ll wait until your relationship with your boyfriend came to it’s rightful end. He’s waited till now, what’s a couple more going to do to him — kill him?

But something in him presses as his consciousness, continually scratching at the memory of you secretly trying to brush off your precious tears as you nibbled on your lips to stifle the sob as you watched your beloved boyfriend prance around with his mistress. And that fucking irked him beyond rationality. 

Everything dulled out around him. He couldn’t even hear the calling of his name from his best friend as he stared at his phone, drinking his hard liquor as he peered at the delivered message that had yet to alert “read” like usual. 

“You good Satoru?” the raven hair asked, curious as to what soured his friend’s mood. 

“I’ve been getting ignored.” Satoru dully expresses, gripping his glass cup causing his knuckles to turn white as he wonders why you’ve been getting distant. 

“From her?” Sitting next to him as he sighed, Suguru shook his head in disbelief, already knowing the answer, “You gotta let her go man… it’s unhealthy.”

“What do you know,” Satoru hissed through his teeth. If Suguru wasn’t his best friend, his face would’ve been knocked out by now, hell maybe something even worse could’ve happened. 

He thought you’d both had gotten a bit closer, but seeing those tears… you were still endlessly soft toward the pathetic fuck. And now you don’t even read his messages. 

“You,” Satoru pointed at the well-dressed man standing in the back of the entourage, “have you killed someone before?” 

“Uh, no, sir.” His assistant stuttered at the sudden question, “well, I wasn’t informed that I would be involved in anything like that, sir.” 

“Boyfriend?” Hanako’s boss curiously asked while sitting at his table. Her boss had an unusual talent to sneak up into places without a sound despite his tall frame. It was even more strange how no one in the company ever saw or heard of him — only Hanako and his assistants.

The rumours that floated around of the mysterious VP that would silently dominate his rivals with his dashing good looks and wicked smile. Forcing them to their knees in submission as he got whatever he wanted.

“H-huh?” surprised at him looking down at her, cutting out a picture, hurriedly throwing a piece of it into the trash, “a-ah yes, sir…” she blushed at her confession. 

“You both look good together,” the man smiled, “handsome man, too,” he complimented, stretching out his legs as he sat on her desk, “I didn’t know you were dating all this time, Miwayaki-San.”

The photo looked partially aged, definitely wasn’t within the last couple of years. Hanako looked much younger and brighter, clinging onto a man as she beamingly smiled without a care in the world.

“We’ve kindled our love. I’m hoping that he proposes soon —”

“And the girl in the trash, Miwayaki-San?” her boss lowly chuckled, “is she the third person in the relationship?”

Embarrassed that he’s seen her petty act of cutting out the woman who stood rightfully at her boyfriend’s side, “s-she’s no one!” Hanako stammered before reaching down to grasp the crumbled photo, only for her boss to quickly retrieve it. Handsomely winking, yet his voice sounded harsh, “I’ll throw it away for you. Don’t want anyone to misunderstand, do we, Miwayaki-San.”

“Ah… Thank you Gojo-san.”

It wasn’t like he was never going to find you. But if it wasn’t for his foolish secretary, it might've taken longer him than expected. Guess paying her generously beyond her skillset was worth the investment.

It was easy running a background check on you with a simple photo — your address, your job, friends, family, and the one that pissed him off the most, Kōji. 

Guess the gods were finally on his side because It’s been 20 years since he’s last seen you.

“So you can’t?” Satoru boringly stared at the man, his blood fuming inside from the lack of patience that he’d been tested with, his voice venomous to anyone who struck against him.

“I’ve never done anything of such a nature but if I handle it well and receive proper compensation…” This is what Satoru liked to hear. “I’ll do my best to not disappoint you.”

Satoru started maniacally laughing, head thrown back on the couch as he manspread on the seat, the tip of his black socks peeking underneath his tight slacks. Pleased at the newbie's courage, despite seeing him tremble as he said each word, cocking his head to the side as his eyes peered at him. “relax, it’s a joke.”

“Satoru you’re scaring —” Suguru tried to ease the tension, utterly failing when his friend immediately stands up.

“I’m leaving, it’s boring here.” Satoru dismissed himself, before turning back to Suguru, “The bill’s on you.”

Throwing back a middle finger, Suguru sighed as he took a whiff of his cigarette. 

“You don’t think he’s being serious right,” the newbie cautiously asked Suguru.

Sighing as he shook his head, “I don’t know…” he honestly confessed.

…

“Fuck.” Satoru threw his head back, his head spinning from the bottles of alcohol he’d just had. Just one response, that’s all he needed to not go completely insane and overthrow all of Japan. He had the power, and it wasn’t like he had any conscience to care for anyone else. All he needed was you.

Closing his eyes, Satoru took a deep breath as he slowly stroked his hardened member, his hand moving on its own accord, feeling every ridge of length as he pleasured himself. 

He remembered your plump lips, teasing him whenever you would give him the faintest of smiles. The way your body felt natural in his hold, and almost perfect as he stood besides you. He swore he felt electricity pumping through his body whenever his fingers would lightly graze against your soft skin.

Satoru let out a moan — gluttonous and unapologetic as he continued to jerk himself off faster, rougher as he called out your name. 

He remembers the scar on your lower right lid. It looked beautiful to him and made him almost bust a nut when he saw it the night of the reunion. And your eyes still sparkled just like he last remembered. 

He would treat you better, crawl on the floor in areas you’ve graced yourself if you wanted that. 

You drew him utterly mad — insane and crippled.

You’ve grown so beautifully. Breathtaking. The little girl that followed him around, had become a woman more lovely than the most expensive gem, and more delicate than any flower. 

His mind wandered off in thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance.  Would you let him ram his cock inside your tight cunt, being squeezed by your soft, velvet walls. 

He wondered how your breasts would wildly bounce as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot. Fuck. Would you scream for him to go faster, guiding him in the right path to find your secret spot?

Do you prefer to be pounded from behind, thighs shaking as he takes you on all fours. Or would you rather ride his hardened shaft, rolling your hips as your juices coated his abdomen. 

Would you like it when he’s got you pressed against the sofa with your legs above his shoulders, letting you milk his cock with the tightness of your cunt. Satoru would release his warm seed into you in every position if he could. He would shoot every drop of his cum straight to your womb, no doubt impregnating you if that’s what you wanted. 

He would like that. 

He would love seeing the residues of his wanton desire for you seeping out of your pussy, using his finger to push back his seeds into you, because he couldn’t afford to waste any chance to impregnate you.

Satoru thought it would be nice to see you cry. The idea of you weeping in his arms as he hugged you till you stopped, adorning you with love as your lips let out the most gluttonous moans. It fueled his blood, causing him to gasp at the closeness of his release.

Would you cry for him? Globular, fat tears streaming down your face as he pumped himself into you. Oh what he would give just to kiss those tears away. His hand feverishly stroked his heated member instead as he gripped a fist and gluttonously moaned in the shower. His white brows furrowed while panting through his mouth. 

His stomach clenched, beautifully flexing the tight muscles in his abdominals, the tip of his head now a fiery red as his slit leaked of shiny fluid.

Maybe if he hurt you, you would cry and lean on him.

Looking at his right wrist, seeing the scar on his skin, he remembers your expression when seeing it. A monumental moment — the first time he’s every felt grateful for it. Your worried look as you ever so lightly grazed your finger along it, scared to almost touch him thinking it’ll hurt him — bewitchingly foolish — was more pleasurable than he imagined. 

This scar — it didn’t hurt, he has no association to pain anymore — especially when you were the greatest memory he has from it.

But he wondered if he pressed you more on it, would you pity him?

ahh fuck he wishes he could see your face again. Droplets of tears streaming down your face as you kiss his old wound, your tender lips brushing against his skin. 

But he couldn’t do that. And Satoru releases himself, hot strokes of cum ejaculating out of his throbbing cock. His precious seeds that should be painting your insides full of him were instead coating the dark, granite shower walls with splurts of thick white.

Satoru would never do that to you.

Chuckling at himself as he rested his head on his forearm, feeling lightheaded from the bliss, “I like you too much to do that.”

And if he couldn’t, then someone else could do that for him.

“Gojo-san,” his secretary walked into this office, “I was wondering if you’ve seen my phone here.” Satoru quickly closes his laptop as he cluelessly looks at her.

Hanako had lost her phone a couple of days back. He’s seen her frantically looking for it the days prior, but with no clue of its last use, Hanako decided to ask Satoru if he’d seen it by chance. She swore she faintly remembered her boss’s office being the last place she saw her phone.

“No, I’m sorry,” Satoru sounded apologetic, even walking around his office to look for her lost phone. “‘It must had some important files in there, seeing you so worried.”

“Uhm yes.” Gojo saw her biting her lipstick-coated lips, bile forming in his throat as he tried his best to compose himself. 

“If I see it, I’ll let you know. But if you’d excuse me, I’m expecting a call soon,” Satoru calmly stated with a smile.

“Oh right!” Hanako bowed to her superior, “I would greatly appreciate it if you could.”

Watching his secretary leave his room, Gojo’s eyes immediately go to the multitude of files — videos, and pictures — downloading on his laptop, his interest piquing to a certain shameful video of Hanako and Kōji mixing their bodies as one.

A pleased smile forms, one that incites joy in his heart, causing his fingers to tremble in ecstasy as he implants a tracking and audio recording device into her phone.

His legs shake in anticipation, palms starting to sweat as he waits for the ‘Download is completed.’ message to pop up before sending it off to his beautiful yet unsuspecting recipient tonight.

you.

no, he would never make you cry. never, but he’ll be the devil in sheep’s clothing to get what he wants, because, in the end, he’ll be your savior.

because no one is worth having you, but him.

——

It’s been a few weeks since that rainy day. And though Kōji has frequently come home late, he managed to find time to spend occasional dinners with you. 

“What are you cooking?” His arms snaked around your waist, droplets of water dripping from his hair, slightly pooling at your thin shirt as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“Miso soup.” You stated, unknowingly squirming when you felt his thick crotch press upon on your ass, his firm chest securing you from behind. You couldn’t deny it, he still felt irresistibly so warm. 

“Want me to taste it?” It wasn’t unusual for Kōji to taste test your food, he enjoyed doing so. It gave him a sense of domesticity and a brief insight into what marriage would be like with you. 

“It’s hot.” warning him before he remotely answered, “then cool it for me,” he responded, his lips gently grazing against your neck as he softly breathed near your ear. 

Nodding you blew on the soup, carefully cooling it down before presenting it to your boyfriend to taste. 

Taking a sip, Kōji, too, felt warm with you. “It’s good,” he complimented, tightening his arms around your waist as he lightly bit your shoulder, “my girlfriend is sure a good cook.” 

“You okay?” worried by his voice as he hid his face into your neck, firmly holding you from looking back at him. 

“When…” Kōji muttered, a strange wave of emotion fueling from his core as he held onto his beloved fiance — the boring, kind you who would do anything for him. “When the debt is all paid, let’s get married.”

Kōji didn’t say those words out of guilt — far from it, he meant it. The reason he said words he normally wouldn’t say, wasn’t because he felt shame for being unfaithful with another woman… but he felt a void when he saw you standing alone, cooking up a meal in the tiny, godforsaken kitchen for him when he used to always be by your side, bothering you that it took much longer to prepare food.

He remembers the hopeful promises he’s made to you. But now, he can’t help but feel insecure in the life he’s given you. 

“You’ll wear a beautiful wedding dress and your ring,” he stated while kissing your cheeks, cupping your face as he tenderly nudged his nose with yours, “I’ll get you a really expensive one, one with a huge diamond.”

“And once we get married, I’ll give you a big kitchen!” Kōji tightly hugged you, spinning you around as you giggled in his loving embrace, “a backyard with lots of space for running around.” 

“I don't need a big one, Kōji!” Dwelling in his arms, you looked up at him, eyes crowning like moons in happiness. “Nonsense, you’ll need a big one for our family silly —”

You felt his hands gently grope your stomach, shaking you out of your memory as he swiftly made his way under your shorts.

With his lips parted, he knew his tongue could do a better job at playing with your swollen clit, lapping and sucking your juices as he fingered you just enough to hit your spot but for now, this will do. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “You’re so warm.” 

Your nails immediately dig into his forearms, desperate to hold anything because this was dangerous to do in front of the stove but your mind wandered off into an euphoric abyss. You were seeing stars as your fiance palmed at your warm core, casually pulling down your pants as he pressed his hardened bulge on the crevice of your naked ass.

“Say you want me.” Kōji enticed, his voice condescending and lustful as he undid your bra, the clasp easily snapping off for his hands to perfectly grasp hold of your plump mounds. 

“I-I want you…” you mewled, feeling your core heat up when he further pressed his throbbing cock, the heat of his member radiating against your sensitive skin. 

“Good.” Kōji was satisfied with the wanton look that shined in your eyes when he leaned in to kiss you, the enticing urge of your dilated pupils as he grasped onto him for any ounce of support. “You’re so wet.” The thick squelches of his fingers playing with your sopping cunt embarrassed you. “Did you feel lonely because I’ve neglected you for a while?”

Kōji didn’t have plans to fuck you. Instead, he was planning on heading over to Hanako’s later in the night, rolling around in her silk covers as he made love to her. But something in him sparked, making him feel warm, and dizzy when he remembered about promising a family with you.

But… but that was impossible. You said your body was too weak to consume children… that it would be difficult.

“Mmph —! A-aah!” you moaned when he lowered you both to the hard floor, pressing his body against yours, intoxicating you with skin to skin contact before he pressed his lips back together with yours.

Despite the tension you and he faced for months prior, you still allowed him to undress you, kissing you in places that he’s once labeled as his, leaving you bare of any clothing as he pressed himself down on you. 

Your hands shook while trying to unbuckle his belt, gradually making your way to barely manage to unzip his pants and pull it down, just enough to expose his toned buttocks and free his heated member out of his briefs. He was already trailing soft kisses along your jawline while cupping your sore breasts to give a wanton squeeze.

Rubbing his reddened tip at your entrance, his eyes fully blown out in lust, he seethed through his teeth, “I’m going in.” It’s been close to forever since he’s felt your tight walls pulsing against his cock. Heavenly, absolutely magical. Hanako couldn’t compare to the warmth of your cunt.

“Ah w-wait Kōji!” you huffed, the thick air of the cramped room barely enough to provide oxygen for two needy bodies, “c-condom… it's dangerous…”

Rage. 

Fucking red was all he saw.

“Fucking shit,” he grasped hold of your cheeks, it hurt in the way he pushed his fingers against your skin, but nothing hurt more than the utter disgust Kōji looked at you before spewing out his next words, shredding your heart into a thousand pieces.

“You can’t even get pregnant even if I dump my cum in you.”

“No! No — that’s not true!” you wanted to scream out and grasp hold of him but the shock of his words dug deeper into your heart than you’d acknowledged, paralyzing you with an agonizing pain. Because soon Kōji was immediately zipping up his pants, stomping his way out of the apartment, and leaving with a loud thud to the door. 

And in your loneliness, a tear dropped from your eye as the faint steps of your lover slowly dissipated into the air. 

“Nonsense,  you’ll need a big one for our family, silly.”

“Family?” your cheeks felt warm at Kōji's words. “Our family. It’ll be me, you, and maybe one or two babies that will have your eyes… and maybe my handsome good looks?” his laugh rang euphorious to your ears. “That’s my dream.”

Family… that’s all you’ve wanted. 

Your phone buzzes beside you before your mind slowly fades away to complete darkness...

The day felt gloomy. The air was humid and skies were downcast to further impede the depressive halls of the hospital. Being inside a cold room all day with the monitors constantly beeping and people showing their fake sympathy made the rage he felt inside that much more unbearable. 

It wasn’t hard sneaking out of his room. The nurses were too busy gossiping – most likely talking about how sorry they felt for him. All he wanted was some silence from the suffocating room he was forced to be in for the past month. 

So he sat on the edge of the hospital’s rooftop, breathing in the thick air as his casted feet dangled with his crutches thrown aside. 

They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. So you can make peace with your entire life in those few, brief seconds. 

Does that mean they reflected back on their lives? Is that why they just left without regrets? 

He wondered if he jumped, would his mind finally feel silent?

Would the guilt of being alive finally surpass him?

Why did he have to be alone?

Why did it have to be them?

Why… why couldn’t he just die?

Why? Why? Why?

After the surgery, he barely spoke after waking up from a long slumber. The day he opened his eyes, grandma was silently crying while grandpa stoically sat next to the window. An ominous anxiety crept over when they weren’t there. 

“Obasan,” his voice barely audible, “w-where’s Okasan… and Otosan?” And after a long hesitant pause, Obasan told him the truth.

“They’re gone –” The boy didn’t hear the rest, because the sudden loud rasp of the oxygen mask rang through his ears.  

His mind was still full with memories of his parents. It still felt so fresh, as if they would come back tomorrow and tell him this was all a bad joke. It was so vivid – his last meal, his last laugh, his last hug, his last birthday celebration, his last car ride to school with his parents before having them tragically stolen from him.

He prayed to god, to anything out there, each night that he wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Because if remembering them would be this painful, maybe forgetting them would ease the agony.

But as if the deities had another plan, his wounds recovered quickly and the blunt pain in his chest no longer hurt. 

It was unfair, the injustice of it all was maddening. 

Ironically, the boy found the answer as he stepped along the ledge of the hospital rooftop. He was the only one suffering. The dead have no regrets, it's those alive that have to burden the pain. Only the living must say their farewell – the balance has always favored the dead.  

“They look like ants,” the boy commented, his voice void of any emotion as he looked down upon the people that entered in and out of the building. Some rushed in as they tried to muffle their cries, while others took their time exiting. Some spent time outside on the benches, while others strolled around, wheeling a patient. 

The boy felt jealous of them. At least they all had a purpose –  a purpose to be alive.

And maybe this was his purpose.

So in peace the boy stepped forward to embrace his fate. The breeze felt nice as it ran through his white hair. Maybe it won’t be so bad, the boy thought. If he could pay the price for doing what he wished, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much –

“Onii-chan,” a girl called out to him, barely grasping hold of his hand, “that’s scary…” she muttered.

“Let go of me.” The boy warned, “mind your own business and get lost.”

Tugging harder, “Come play with me, Onii-chan. If you get hurt, you can’t go home!” 

Home. 

Did he even have one anymore?

And for the first time since his parent’s demise, the boy had tears streaming down his face. His blue eyes once filled with pain and apathy, had life brought back onto him the moment this foolish girl held his hand. Looking back, the girl no taller than his waist was looking up at him with a missing tooth and chubby cheeks, looking awfully sad as her small fingers barely wrapped around his hand. Her touch felt oddly warm.

“You have an owie!” the girl muttered, lightly jumping on her feet as she hurriedly searched through her small bear purse, before taking out something small and handing it over to him, her soft fingers gently grazing over his wrist. “A bandaid!” She cheekily smiled, “Obachan said bandaids are for owies. So don’t cry!” only for her smile to slowly dissipate when the boy’s tears continuously flowed, dripping down his chin with some pooling on her arm as he reached over to take her gift.

Why did she look so sad for him? Why were her eyes pooled with tears, soft and gentle as she looked up at him? Why did her hand need to feel so warm? Why did his heart beat, pounding in his chest, from this little girl?

“Why’d it have to be me?” the boy muttered, his tears muffling his words as he fell to the floor, his body falling limp and mind hazy as the young girl sat with him, “why am I still alive? Why couldn’t they just kill me too?”

“Maybe…” her small hands wrapped around his fingers, “so we can go home together! So let’s be friends Oniichan —”

Her voice faded into a far distance as the boy sudden saw black. 

“You’re a good girl.” the boy heard his grandma speaking with someone. Despite his eyes barely open, he could see a girl sitting next to his bed as his grandma patted her head. “Can you stay here for a bit, darling? Obasan needs to go take care of something.” 

“Mhm!” She ecstatically responded, bouncing in her seat. “Oniichan is my friend. I’ll take care of him!” And the door closed.

“Hmm…” the girl hummed, playing with his wristband that was too big for his thin wrists, “Oniichan’s name is… ” sounding out every letter, “G-O-J-O S-A-T-O —”

“I thought I told you to get lost,” the boy muttered, “You’re not my friend. Especially not with those that can’t read.”

“That’s okay,” the girl giggled while putting her hands on her cheeks while leaning on his bed, swinging her short legs as she stared back at the boy, “you’re my friend.”

….

Has it been another month since he’s been at the hospital? The boy wasn’t sure, but what he did know was that this girl followed him around everytime she visited the hospital. And here he was, sitting at the rooftop balcony, handing her an icecream as he sat feeling the night air.

It wasn’t like the girl was sick — well, she didn’t look sick. Curious, the boy decided to ask. “Toothless, why are you here?”

“Because Oniichan is my friend.” Furrowing her brows in a pout, the girl answered while eating her icecream, “and my name isn’t Toothless.”

Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, he corrected his sentence. “I— I mean… are you sick?” but he couldn’t help but laugh when the girl did, in fact, have a missing front tooth with air whistling out whenever she talked. 

“No —” the girl mumbled, “Obachan is…” her voice was faint, almost as if she was going to cry before quickly stopping herself, fastidiously blinking to pull her tears back in, “but Obachan said she’s getting better, so it’s okay.” 

The boy was sure he’s seen her grandma in the oncology department. But, he guessed… miracles can happen — for some people. 

“Oniichan,” the girl suddenly asked, “do you think we can play together when you get better?”

“Not sure,” the boy shrugged, wondering for himself when he’ll be discharged. 

“Or! Oniichan!” the girl suddenly shouted, “let’s get married!”

“What?!” the boy almost choked on his spit, his cheeks radiating a rosy hue from her abrupt confession, “Do you even know what that word means?!”

Nodding her head, as she looked at him with her eyes wide, “Obachan said when you marry someone you can eat lots of yummy food together and have fun so everyday will feel so happy!”

“Well,” he laughed while ruffling the top of her head, “I’m too old for you. Maybe when you grow all your teeth, we can be friends.”

With a pout, she asked. “You promise?” 

“Hmm…” the boy stood up, quickly patting his clothes from the dirt, and wiping his hands off before reaching out his hand to help the girl up, “ I promise — but c’me on, let’s go, your grandma is probably waiting for you.”

Hopeful the girl took the boy’s hand, giggling as she led him to the exit, “I’ll make you happy Oniichan!”

“Sure,” the boy chuckled at her absurd declaration, oddly feeling a sense of joy tickling his insides from her pure diligence in wanting to marry him despite not even knowing the significance of such sacred word. 

Opening the door, the girl excitedly turned around to share, jumping on her toes that she failed to notice the stairs. “And I’ll share all my food with you, Satoru-kun —”

“Watch out!” the boy yelled, quickly pulling her into his arms before both bodies painfully rolled down the flight of stairs. The boy felt a rush of warm liquid drip down his temple as he held the small girl in his arms, noticing a cut just under his eyes that started to bleed. All his attention was focused on her face that he failed to feel the gashing wound on his back. 

“Toothless, you okay?” though his voice was faint and his head starting spinning, he tried to wake her up, only for her response to be silence. And with all the strength he had, he pulled her limp body closer, whispering before he too fell weak. “It’s okay… I’ll give you a bandaid later —”

“What the fuck?!” you quickly woke up, “shit,” you clutched your head feeling dizzy from getting up so fast. Your back was drenched with sweat and your hands trembled from this dream you’ve just had. 

Trying to steady your breath, you tried recalling what you’ve just dreamt. “Who was that?” Your chapped lips stung as you tasted a hint of blood. 

In a flash you briefly remembered a boy with soft white hair and the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, bandaged and bruised as he cried next to you. “Oniichan…”  you whispered. Your head pounding making you feel nauseous as a name repeatedly rang through your ears. 

Gojo... Who are you?

You decided maybe a cup of water would help relinquish your parched throat and help cool you down. So by habit your hand immediately reached for your phone, hoping Kōji messaged you after the fight you both had, as you carefully stood up to reach from the fridge door, only for it to be, again, someone else. 

From Satoru.

The weather is so cold >_<

Dress warmly! 

——

To say Kōji was frustrated was an understatement. The level of anger that entered his body when he heard your words eroded his common sense and blinded him from thinking rationally. 

He wanted to hurt you, absolutely destroy you because you were the one who was a constant reminder of his failures, and in that, he wanted to spite you.

It didn’t help how a man bumped into him as he made his way down, further fueling his rage. Instead of apologizing, that son of a bitch smirked, and his blue eyes pierced straight into Kōji's soul. And that fucked with his mind even more. 

So in his resentment, he found himself in Hanako’s apartment, pushing her against the wall, heaving up her heavy moans while her fingers naturally became tangled in his hair, the moment she opened her door for him. Slamming his lips against hers with a harsh kiss, taking in her fragrant scent that muted all emotions, stripping any ounce of rationality from him — Kōji felt numb to it all. 

For Kōji, there was no passion, only carnal violence as he prepared to fuck her. But for Hanako, it was the complete opposite. The roughness and the eagerness of his fingers as he ripped off her clothes, caused her to further believe that this man was hers. 

It didn’t take much time for Hanako to be completely stripped off in bed. She mistook his rage for wanton desire by allowing him to pull on her hair to deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue inside her mouth as it stripped them both of air, shamelessly moaning out his name to further claim Kōji as hers. 

Nothing else ran through his mind except for the image of your pained expression when he assaulted you with painful words. Hanako, with her breasts exposed, completely unaware of her boyfriend’s rage, laid bare as she pulled him in, wrapping her legs around his small waists while her dainty panties dangled at her ankles. 

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “Let me just rub it, I don’t have a condom —”

“It’s okay,” she reassured, further pressing her legs into his waist as Kōji stared at her, “I’m safe today.” 

Her words made his mind short-circuit. 

He wasn’t thinking right when he rammed his unprotected cock inside her cunt, because in a split second he was fucking her raw as she loudly mewled in pleasure, her legs trembling from the force of his thrusts. 

“Y-you’re so big!” Hanako shuddered, thighs trembling at how far Kōji perfectly nestled inside her, with his balls pushing against her ass and his hips pressing against her swollen, needy clit. 

He held Hanako close as her body jostled from below, his teeth sloppily marking up her soft skin, the puffs of his exhales forming sweat bubbles on her temples. Blinding them both from their sins as their fates entangled as one. 

Clouded by wrath and lust, rutting his hardened cock into his mistress with forceful movements had her thighs shake in pleasure, and blissful tears to well up. For a brief moment, Kōji wondered when was the last time he's seen tears of bliss as he fucked you — surely days, weeks, months?

But when Hanako suddenly clenched on his length, her tight, warm pussy provoking him to hold her closer, his eyes immediately saw red the moment he realized, under him was, in fact, not you. But, his mistress.

“K-Kōji —!” her whimpers were sensual, “Just like that!” she screamed out, her nails painting harsh lines of red on his back. 

Fuck. Fuck. It’s not like it was his fault that you couldn’t conceive. You promised to have a family with him, and now, you’re telling him that don’t want to? 

Fuck that. 

And if he could have sex with Hanako without any caution for a possible baby that could grow in her womb after this, he would do it. He wouldn’t have used protection all this time if he had no guilt behind fucking her raw. 

Or at least, that’s what he foolishly thought, a decision fueled by his anger until he actually did do it. 

But it was already too late because he already released thick ropes of cum, into a woman that clearly wasn't you, when he woke up to his senses and realized what he had done.

Immediately he pulled himself out of Hanako’s cunt to ejaculate the rest of his seed out of her, ignoring her needy whines as she pouted at the sudden emptiness she felt from Kōji's cock not filling her to the brim.

What the hell was he thinking?! There was no such thing as a safe day. Especially not when you were supposed to be his future. The rightful one to bear his children.

But underneath him was a smiling and panting Hanako, blissfully fucked as she mistook her boyfriend to be fingering her to force his leaking cum back into her. Foolishly wrapping her arms around his neck, she sealed the deal with a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you.”

——

You didn’t have much growing up. It was just you, mom, and grandma. Well, that was until your mom passed away when you were in high school. Since then money has always been tight. Especially when trying to pay for Obachan’s medical bills, juggling multiple jobs after school was normal for you, getting wrecked by the cruelty of the world was a part of your daily life. 

You worked through school, and college was nothing but an elite dream you not even dared wanted for yourself. That was until you met a strange boy, one who nervously pranced as he confessed his feelings to you on top of the school’s rooftop.

Kōji Nakamura changed your life.

Kōji was a kind boy. He listened despite you not talking much and would remember the smallest of details about you. Though awkward in his profession of love, he still cared for you deeply. It was in his actions as he held your bag and waited to walk you home after your part-time job. It was in his sweet gestures to pack you lunch, waking up extra early just so he could catch you before leaving for the day. 

There was a sense of timidness you felt whenever he held your hand. As if he was scared you would break if he held it any harder. 

He taught you to dream and enlightened your once dull days into something worthwhile. His smile illuminated your future, and to him, you entrusted your everything. 

But it wasn’t until Grandma passed away you felt alone. A loneliness that ate up your core, slowly devouring every aspect of you, crippling you from freedom. The days when you sat alone at home, stomach grumbling from having little to eat as you waited for your beloved Obachan to come back home… only for her to never return deeply traumatized you. 

So you vowed, that if Kōji was the next best thing in your life, you wouldn’t let him go. The thought of feeling lonely again struck fear in your heart, causing you to cling to him even more.

The relationship was never this bad… it wasn’t until the debt started to fuel your fights. Nights that were once full of cuddles and warmth slowly became cold and hostile with backs turned to one another. The bags under Kōji's eyes would increasingly darken, and his sighs deepened whenever he would see you in old clothes that were out of style. 

But still, it was easier to deal with the neglect than to be alone again… 

It’s a shame how even in the turmoil, you seek out what’s familiar, even when it eats you up from the inside. And somehow in the pain, you felt a sense of comfort.

But maybe this dream, like a glass menagerie that’s so fragile that seems to always taunt you, always feeling too far away to protect, wasn’t what you’ve thought was worth protecting. 

And it scared you that he was nothing but a mirage, a foolish dream, of your delusions that one day better days will come…

But strangely so, you foolishly find comfort, again, in the man that you’ve recently met as he sits in front of you while boldly looking into your eyes. He’s smiling as if he, too, would protect you. Carefully listening to your few words as you spill the story about your miscarriage to him, he offers a smirk without any irreverence to life,

“Want me to kill him?” Satoru asked while sitting next to you, his cheeks feeling cold from the night. “I mean it,” he reiterated with a blank expression while looking forward. 

“I wish,” you chuckle, feeling a load off your shoulders as you confess about the miscarriage you’ve suffered almost a year back. It was much harder then compared to now. It was hard to sleep with the debt collectors constantly threatening and trashing your apartment, your anxiety heightened every morning when you woke up. You didn’t mean to keep it a secret from Kōji, the day you found out you’d lost your baby was the first day he didn’t sleep at home. “I guess I’m just afraid to bring it up to him.”

“Leave him and come to me,” the older man confessed, “I’m rich, handsome, and believe it or not,” he turned to you, “I’m very good in bed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his childish boasting. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was wrong to be here, feeling a sense of warmth in your heart while talking to another man who wasn’t your lover. But was it a crime to be selfish, just for once. 

“Hm… Yamakage-san, can I ask you a question?” you hummed out his name, holding onto your beer can as you took a sip for courage.

“Sure, if you call me Satoru.” He smirked at you, pushing his hair back which exposed his chiseled jaw and pretty neckline. 

“You’re silly.” Shaking your head before continuing with your question, seriously asking. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Like I said when I met you, I just want to be friends with you.”

“Why?” curious as to why someone like him would even want to spend a minute of his time with you. 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re probably popular with girls, you're rich, and most likely have your life set for you.”

Cocking his head in confusion, “So, if I’m popular with girls, am rich, and have a bright future, I can’t be your friend?”

“No.”

“Then how about your lover?”

“You already know the answer to that, Yamakage-San,” laughing when you see him roll his eyes and mumble under his breath. “Yea, sure whatever, you’re still with the asshole.”

The cold must’ve gotten to your senses. Because you couldn’t help but look at his glossy lips pouting, wondering how soft it would be to kiss his lips, and feel his touch as he tenderly held you for an embrace. 

Would it feel different from Kōji's? 

Furthermore, you couldn’t help but daydream, maybe if the universe was fair to you just once… if you had met Yamakage Satoru before Kōji… would your life have been a bit different? 

Maybe if you made a decision, your fate could change.

So without much thought, you softly asked. 

“Then can you kiss me?” in your thoughts.

——

Kōji nervously sat in his living room, biting his nails as he waited for you to come back home. You were always quick to come home after work, ready to greet him despite whatever you were doing. but when he arrived, you weren’t there.

With no letter updating him like usual, or the freshly made soup and rice prepared for him for breakfast, the apartment felt vacant, absent of any life. 

Guilt started to eat up at his core, especially after last night’s mistake of fucking Hanako raw and cumming inside her. What the hell was he thinking? 

He didn’t mean for his affair to go this far. He just wanted a little fling to distract him from the frustrations he felt when he saw you — a constant reminder of his failures. 

It was amusing at first when Hanako hit on him. The underclassman that used to follow him around in college, had now become a woman. And was willing to fulfill his sexual desires and stroke his ego as he wanted. 

As the days passed, Kōji couldn’t help but feel enticed by the dichotomy of both women in his life. Hanako looked like she grew up privileged and loved, it was in her expensive articles of clothing and perfume she showered herself with. She was quirky and vibrant, ready to cutely embrace and shower him affectionately. While you wore nothing but baggy clothes that did nothing for your figure and were boring like a wilted flower. 

“Ahh,” Hanako threw her arms around him, her cheeks planted on his firm chest as he listened to his erratic heartbeat as both naked bodies cooled down from the intense sex they’d had prior, “I’m so happy I think I can get married at this instant if it’s with you,” she giggled while snuggling herself closer to him. 

“Marriage?” Kōji scoffed, a pang in his chest thickening when he immediately thought of you. Hanako didn’t know he was still with you, nor was it that she cared to ask. The conversation never flowed in that direction. And even if it did, what difference did it make when they’ve already fucked.

But unlike him, Hanako was serious about her relationship with Kōji. 

“You don’t want to get married with me?” Hanako pouted, “You should be happy your young girlfriend is even mentioning of getting married!”

Trying to change the subject, Kōji asked, “Did you find your phone?”

“Yea! It was on my desk in the morning with a letter from my boss saying he found it!” She exclaimed while perched on her elbow, her voluptuous breasts littered with kiss marks, shamelessly laid out for Kōji to see. 

“Be careful.” His chest was relieved, “and delete those videos, what if someone sees them.”

“Hmph,” pouting as she pinched his nose, playfully glaring as she cupped his face to land a fat kiss on her boyfriend’s bruised lips, “no one will see, and who cares! We’re dating anyways!”

“But back to what I was saying, you’re at a good age to get married Kōji. Don’t you want to settle down?” Resting her chin on his sternum, looking up through her wispy lashes, she asked with the expectation that her boyfriend would want to have a future with her. 

Marriage. Kōji once wanted that. 

“I do,” he agreed with his lover, tightening his hold on her waist as he pulled her closer, “I just don’t think it’s the most feasible especially when it’s so hard to take care of myself.”

“Have you thought of wanting children, Kōji?” the woman cautiously asked, imagining how good a father Kōji would be for their future children.

“Mhm.” He’s thought many times about it. Too many that he’s often dreamt about it too. 

“Tell me,” Hanako giggled, her love for this man growing in her heart.

“Nothing much. I just a child that looks like my wife and I.” His mind colored with a hopeful dream filled with you. “And maybe live in a small apartment where we can on weekend trips and eat lots of good food.” 

Kōji knew having a child with you was a luxury. But he couldn’t help but feel disappointment when you confessed it would be difficult. But you were always quick to remind him, if things got better...  

He wondered if he was the cause of such misfortune since he had no money. And in his insecurity, he fueled his rage on you. 

“Kōji,” the younger woman called out his name, drawing circles on his chest as she looked up with eyes brimming with tears, “don’t give up on that dream, okay?”

I’ll make sure to make it happen for you, Hanako internally promised as she held onto her stomach, unaware that she was already steps into making it come true. 

…

Days had passed since the incident of him walking off on you. It’s been plaguing his mind as the memory of your pained expression haunted his every moment. You were supposed to be waiting for him like always. The kind and boring you that would do anything for him; strangely, now, you weren’t here. 

It’s been hours since he’s arrived home, and he’s been looking at his phone every minute hoping that you would message him, check up on him, and care for him like usual. 

But outside of Hanako’s useless messages, his phone was silent. 

His guilty conscience couldn’t take it anymore as he lifted his phone to dial your number, rushing out to get some fresh air from the balcony. Despite the cool wind, his heart felt stuck, encaged by his poor decisions that ultimately caused his relationship with you to turn sour. 

It was all his fault and he knew it. You weren’t deserving of such treatment, but the anger… his insecurity that brewed knowing he’s failed to protect the woman he once passionately loved, shamefully overcame him. 

He had no one to blame but himself, but you were willing to take his wrath… so he let you. 

The number you have dialed is not available, please leave —

Kōji dialed your number again and upon the third ring, he was faced with a scene that would embark on a new trajectory of his sanity — or what was left of it. 

He was sure it was you. There was no denying that Kōji wouldn’t be able to identify his girlfriend of almost a decade coming out of a stranger’s car, smiling and laughing as she held onto a large bouquet too grand for her to carry. 

Kōji couldn’t help but recall a memory when he took you to the mall, excited to buy you something nice only to leave disappointed when you wouldn’t let him buy anything not even a singular rose saying he needed to save money. He remembered you telling him that you didn’t like flowers. But there you were beautifully smiling with dozens in your arms. 

Who the fuck was that? Kōji's eyes then zoomed onto the man, and for a brief second, it felt as if he’d seen the stranger before. But he decided to ignore it because his main priority was you.

It wasn’t until minutes later Kōji heard your keys rattling to open the door. He wasn’t sure what he needed to say, what he needed to do — but the moment he saw your face, he immediately ran towards you and pulled you into a suffocated embrace. 

“Where you’ve been?!” His voice sounded muffled into your neck, “I’ve been waiting for you this entire time!”

Usually, you would console him, and apologize for making him worry. But today, all Kōji received was a slight nudge as you pushed him away, “sorry, I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry,” Kōji murmured, awkwardly standing at the doorway as he watched you take off your coat, and prepare the roses into a vase. 

Like deja vu, Kōji snaked his strong arms around your waist, holding you tightly as if he needed you to know, you were his. “Who gave you those flowers?” Kōji cautiously asked while kissing your neck. His heart momentarily stopped beating when he noticed that your neck was bruised just above the navel of your neck.

“A friend.” That was all you stated before making your way into the bedroom to sleep, ignoring him for the rest of the night. 

— the night prior.

Occasionally, men would shamelessly ask for favors while drunk as they checked in. Usually, all you had to do was deny their request, hand over their key, and simply wish them a good night’s rest as you stay safe behind the plastic barrier.

It didn’t bother you when they did, because how are you going to argue with a person that’s incoherent to the point they can’t give you the right transactional card because they’re too drunk. It was a waste of your time to stress about it. 

The money was good, and that was all to it. 

And usually, despite being drunk, they would stumble up the stairs, eventually making their way to their motel room, ultimately forgetting their actions in the morning as they sped back to their waiting wives. 

But today, one customer seems to be the outlier.

“C’me on,” the drunken man slurred his words, eyes faded as drool leaked from the corner of his stubby chin, “I’ll g-give you a good time!”

“I decline your offer sir,” you sighed, “But please, if you can provide me with your credit card, not your business card.”

“You fucking gold digger,” he cursed at you, “why do you need my card? You’re trying to scam me?”

“No, sir I —”

Intruding, a man suited in black walked up to the front, presenting his credit card with a simple request, “If you’d excuse me. I would like to buy out the rest of the empty rooms.” And with that the drunken man was easily escorted out with the help of the odd stranger.

Your shift would usually end at around 5 am, but since all rooms were booked out, Akiyama-san excused you to leave early. 

Packing your bags you wondered if Satoru would be there waiting for you like always. Leaning against the pebbled wall as he boredly kicked rocks to waste time until you ended. And to no avail, he was.

But today, standing in front of you, with his height domineering above you, Satoru had a bruised lip and cheek as he stood under the dim street light. 

“What happened?!” you immediately shrieked before cupping his face, pulling him down to meet your level, before quickly blowing on his wound to ease the possible pain.

Satoru liked that, the worry in your eyes as you cared for him, your small hands holding him in place as you examined his wound, completely angered that someone would dare assault him. 

“A grown man like you going around fighting people.”

“It’s really not my fault,” he pouted, his hands sneakily finding rest on your waists. 

“Come here.” Your hand locked with his as you led him inside to use the first aid kit, ordering the grown man around,“and sit down.” Your hands felt warm despite your fingers barely grasping his four fingers. It was cute, adorable even, how you easily controlled him on a tight leash.

“Yes ma’am .” He obediently listened, spreading his legs out so that you could comfortably position yourself to place ointment on his wound. He had a clear view of your face — enticing and pure, with your delicate and soft features as your lashes fluttered and brows cutely furrowed while carefully placing the medication on his lip. 

Ahh if you would care for him like this, Satoru thought, then he would glady get beaten up if he could be pampered by you…

“Fuck, what the hell?!” the drunken man found himself on the floor, knees scraped from the sudden brute force. “Do you want to fucking die?!” 

“Me?” Satoru eyes gleamed brightly in the dark, chuckling at how pathetic the drunk man sounded, “not really. But —”

The old man screeched out when a wad of his thinning hair was abruptly pulled, “I wonder who’s the one that wants to die between you and I? Come on, guess. I’ll give you one chance.”

“Are you crazy? — Ah! My hair!” the main yelped in pain as Satoru’s grip got even harder.

“Hm.. you seem sober enough.” Satoru hummed, crouching down as he peered into the man face. “Hit me.”

“You must be out —”

“Hurry.” 

Angered at the younger man’s provocation, the man swung his plump fist, cursing as he almost lost balance from the force, “it’s people like you who are ruining the future generations, you fucking punk!”

The punch echoed through the quiet alleyway.

“Good.” Spiting out his blood, Satoru fixed his posture to hover over the man, taking out a pair of black gloves from his pocket as he swiftly wore it, hiding a prominent scar he had just under his right wrist. “Do you know who I am?”

“What the hell are you saying? How am I supposed to —”

“You dont?” His blue eyes pierced straight into the man’s soul, burning his mind so he wouldn’t dare come across you any more. “Then, it’s your lucky day because you'll remember me even in your dreams.”

Crack! 

Thud.

… Maybe it was the position that you were in, but you noticed while tending to his wound, Satoru was dangerously close — far too close that you could feel his soft breathing as he observed your features, his azul eyes noticeably landing on your lips.

“you’re so pretty,” he confessed, his eyes softening up as he sees a change in your expression. 

“and you’re crazy.” you tried pulling away, only to immediately fail as his strong hands pulled you in closer, your palms resting on his chest.

“let me ask a question.” Satoru brushed his mildly calloused finger under your eye, “this scar— where did you get it?” 

“to be honest, I don’t remember… Obachan told me it was from an accident when I was younger.” 

“oh— I see,” his voice sounded mildly disappointed, “it’s beautiful nonetheless.”

“I think something happened to your head when you got hit—“ 

“I’m being serious,” his lips hovered over yours, his minty breath fanning just below your nose, cooling your nerves, “you make me go fucking insane.” he sulked, placing his cheek on your chest as he looked up at you.

It felt as if your heart was going to burst out of your chest. It was amazing how Satoru didn’t say anything about the loud thumping despite his ears placed directly over the beating organ. “Don’t look at me like that.” You stated while pushing his hair out of his eyes, a visible grin formed on his lips making your heart flutter. His looks were enticing, absolutely cruel of him to look at you like that. 

“Like what?” Satoru challenged, a smirk growing on his lips as if he’s found a way to the golden prize, trailing his large hands up to cup your face as you shly removed your gaze on him. “Hey,” he whispered, “Look at me.”

And you do, and his expression is gentle. “Tell me, like what?” He asked again, his voice an octave lower.

“Like you love me.” you honestly answered, and his lips come crashing onto yours and you’re immediately pulled up onto his strong thighs, saddling his clothed crotched with one hand placed behind your neck while the other mounded your ass. 

The kiss was vigorous. Passionate. Sloppy as your tongues couldn’t meet in perfect coordination, but both of you didn’t care. 

“I’ve always loved you.”

His lips trailed kisses along your jaw, steadying you in place as he took the lead, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your skin. “S-satoru,” you mewled out his name.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Say that again,” his lips murdered yours, his fingers organically slipping under your clothes. His kisses felt tender and deep, tracing the outline of your lips with the tip of his tongue as you breathed each other in, occasionally leaving open mouth kisses to smother you with soft kisses around your chest, shoulders, and neck. Your skin stung when he sucked on your clavicle, swirling his tongue with his saliva after he’s marked you while your hips moved in tandem to ride his strong thigh, feeling his hardened bulge sadly trapped in his slacks.

You felt his fingers unbutton your top. Was he planning on taking it further? Your mind raced, bouncing around with thoughts that challenged your morality or if it even matter at this point. 

But you decide on the former, not wanting to dishonor Satoru like that, but also to keep your dignity to break up with your estranged lover before possibly starting a new relationship. 

“S-satoru —” You pulled at his hair, using all of your resolve to get his attention, “wait for me,” you huffed out and his lips immediately stopped making love to you. A trail of spit connecting your lips together as he clenched his jaws to pull himself from absolutely fucking you senseless right here — if you’d wanted to. 

Placing your forehead to kiss his as you gulped down a wad of your saliva down your parched throat, trying to steady your erratic heart.

“until I break up with Kōji… wait for me.”

“I'm good at waiting,” Satoru promised with a gentle kiss placed on top of your scar, “it’s all I’ll ever do for you, princess.” 

——

Kōji has been unusually antsy these past weeks. He rarely came home late, and followed you around like a neglected puppy trying to get your attention. It was as if the roles were magically swapped between the two of you, where he was now the one painfully waiting for you to return home to him.

But it’s now been days since he’s last seen you. Where have you gone? When all of your belongings were still in this crappy apartment? Where can you be, when he was here?

At first he assumed you were at work, until you didn’t show up to the apartment anymore. Regret filled his conscience when he had no where to look nor call, because he’s never asked where you’ve been working at. All he did was expect you to pay off his debt.

He regretted ever putting his relationship with you on the line. It was a foolish decision, one he’ll take his whole life trying to rectify and own up to his sins.

He was sure of it that you’d forgive him — he needed you, without you there was no sense for him to live. 

The sight of the love mark he’s seen on your neck crippled him. It drove him mad to think someone else possibly touched you. All you needed to do was pick up his call. He’ll make it right. He’ll do better.

He’ll end things with Hanako. That’ll be easy because she wasn’t worth much to his life than a simple fuck, compared to you who’s been with him for over a decade.

He’ll find another job if that’ll mean you’ll stay with him forever. He’ll fulfill his promises to you and make you happy — one chance was all he needed.

Pick up. Kōji nervously bit his fingers, his naked feet loudly thumping on the hard floor, causing the neighbors below to retaliate in annoyance. but he didn’t care.

The line continued to ring — just one chance was all he needed.

Ring.

Ring.

how many times has he called? Surely it was close to a hundred. 

Ring. 

Rin — “Hello?” he heard your sweet voice on the other line. 

“Baby!” he urgently shouted, his chapped lips now bleeding, “where are you?” he felt a wob of anxiety pooling at the base of his throat, gripping onto his phone in anticipation of your words.

“I’m not coming back Kōji.”

“what do you mean? you can leave like that. no— Baby, where are you —?“

“Hanako.” his mind fell blank when he heard his mistress’s name on the line, his Achilles heel that would ultimately kill him upon strike. “I know everything, Kōji…” he heard you deeply sighing.

No, no, no! this wasn’t it. you weren’t supposed to know! 

“Baby no — no! Listen to me,” Kōji panicked as he heard your sniffles, oh… how he desperately wished this was a prank, a nightmare he’d wake up to and have you rightfully in his arms. 

“With what you’ve done, I didn’t think you needed proper closure… but I do feel like I owe you this one thing. If you look underneath my clothes, there should be a box. take a look inside, and it should be self explanatory what it is.”

Box? what fucking box, he thought while rushing into your once shared bedroom, rummaging through your side of the closet. It was then he noticed most of your clothes weren’t there anymore — and there it was, a small pink box hidden in the corner.

“Kōji.”

He opened the box as you relayed your last words to him. 

And there he saw a sonogram of a baby in his hands, dating back to a little over a year… 

“ I hope you can find happiness in your life without me now, Kōji.”

… just around the time his affair started.

“goodbye.” And Kōji didn’t know those would be the last words he’ll ever hear from you.

hook, line, sinker.

The onus to his failure — you, his beloved flower that’s withered under his unruly demise have finally found freedom from the one that’s plucked all of your beauty away.

——

You’ve contemplated for days wondering how you should end it with Kōji. Despite the pain he’s put you through, he was once someone you’ve loved and dreamt a future with. You knew him longer than living without him, and he was all you had for years of your life. 

All you’re firsts you’ve experienced with him, and with him you’ll experience this one last thing.

“I gotta do this,”  you muttered to yourself, staring at your phone that’s been ringing nonstop for the past couple days. 

To simply let go of a relationship, a person who you’ve known for so long is often a quite difficult thing to do. The world you wanted with Kōji, the future family and promises that were made between you and him, the sacred bond of love that once burned so fiercely was nothing more than a fever dream that has shallowed out into a distasteful nightmare. And it was time to let go.

Broken pieces can’t put themselves back together. They’ll always stay broken. And Kōji has broken you.

For a few weeks, he followed you around, begged – absolutely begged — on his knees that you would forgive him for saying such hurtful things to you. That he loved you, cared for you, wanted only you. 

Lies. lies. All of it were lies. 

He didn’t love you. If love was what he had, then you wanted no part of it. 

Because the same day that he knelt on the floor groveling in his self pity, you saw him sneak out at night, receiving a phone call from Hanako as she waited for him at a nearby park. Kissing him with tears in her eyes.

And the self proclaimed man that continuously boasted you were all he’ll ever need, your first love and companion for over a decade, did not push his mistress away, but instead embraced and solemnly confessed that he was sorry.

That was all you needed before closing your chapter with Kōji, forever locking it up to be thrown into the pits of hell to perish for all of eternity. and along with him, would the memory of your lost child accompany him.

Not a single tear fell from your eyes for Kōji — you won’t allow it. But instead, it fell for the stupid man that’s stolen your heart. 

Was he crazy?! It’s been over 20 years —

Your lungs felt heavy as you ran down the stairs, the dimly lit path almost dangerous as you breezed through, your legs speeding up in desperation to meet him — he was going to be there, always waiting to walk you back home.

The exit was close, just a couple more steps and you were free to hold him, kiss him, love him. 

And opening the door, standing at his usual spot just underneath the postlamp, was no one. 

Your eyes feverishly looked around, your head spinning from how fast your eyes trekked to look for Satoru. Your eyes becoming blurry from the tears that welled inside.

Where is he? He’s always there — 

You panicked when you couldn’t find him anywhere, he was supposed to be there! He always was —

“Who are you looking for?” he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning against your cheeks as tears threatened to spill. “Is he handsome? Because you’re making me jealous —”

Unabashed you mark him as yours. Forcing your lips on his soft, sweet ones, throwing your arms around his neck as you carelessly jumped into his embrace, knowing he’ll catch you. With your legs wrapped around his waists, your cheeks felt warm and the kiss tasted salty as you heard Satoru groan into the intimate kiss. 

His lips chased after yours as you lean out to catch a breath. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” Satoru teased with a thin line of spit connecting you both together.

“There’s literally no one here to see us, Satoru.” It was close to midnight, and the streets were empty of people besides you two. 

He deadpanned with a lifted brow, “am I not a pair of eyes?” he scoffed as he carefully placed you down. 

“Whatever,” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you nuzzled your face into his chest, his arms immediately wrapping around your body. “Where were you?” you softly asked, the confidence in your voice shaking, “you were supposed to be here, stupid.”

“Sorry,” you felt his chest numbly vibrate as he spoke, “had to throw something away,” Satoru murmured with his lips pressed onto your head. 

“Hm?” you looked up through your lashes, resting your chin on his sternum, “throw what away?” you curiously asked.

A rosey hue immediately painted on his cheeks, “okay, you can’t just do that,” he muttered while cupping your face, nuzzling the tip of his nose lightly against yours, “you’ll kill me looking so cute like that.”

There was no denying that those were the same pair of eyes that you’ve fallen for years ago. The same pair of arms, once lanky and thin, now strong and secure … that saved you as you fell down the stairs.

“Satoru.” You hummed out his name, basking in his warmth as he, too, hummed back a response, “yes?”

You wanted to desperately ask. ‘How have you been? Have you been happy? Have you fulfilled your dreams? 

“Does your scar ever hurt anymore?” Your voice lightly cracked as you pulled his wrist close to your lips, kissing his skin as your vision started to become blurred from tears.

“No,” he professed, his eyes softening from the realizing you’ve remembered, “not since I’ve met you.”

Your heart pounded. It felt like a knot formed at the base of your diaphragm, making it difficult to breathe, to let out the words you’ve been dying to ask since you’ve had the dream. Everything around you felt loud, blaring into your ears and overstimulating your senses. 

What if you’re wrong? What if he isn’t who you thought?

Satoru intertwined his fingers with yours, breaking you from your thoughts as you followed him from behind, looking at his broad back as his veinous hand swallowed yours. “Let’s go home, angel.”  

And everything went silent. Like morning dew, his voice replenished your soul, anchoring you from insanity. His simple, couple of words fueled a courage for you to ask —

But even if you’re wrong … would that change anything?

Your hand tightly held his as you stopped in your track as you longly breathed in his scent. The chilled air tasted oddly sweet in that moment, and your hands could still barely wrap around his — just like years ago. 

And for once in your life, you decided nothing mattered anymore. From all the times the world trampled and left you broken and bare, you decided today you’d find liberosis to it all. 

“Satoru.” His name came out in a sob, your lips trembling while he, too, stopped himself.

“... are you still open to marrying me?” you could see his breaths become staggered, waiting for you to continue forth with your sentence. “And I’ve grown all my teeth…and could properly read out your name, Satoru Gojo?” 

Turning around, a solid tear fell from his majestic blue eyes, the whisps of his lashes damp with tears. 

“Took you long enough to remember me, Toothless.”

——

You couldn’t erase the past, nor could you predict the future. But with your lips intertwined, you found solace in the simple act of being together with him. And as you held each other tight, the gravity of your connection pulled you to kiss him again — again, and again.

You don’t recall much before finding yourself entangled in his arms, his lips sloppily kissing yours as he mindlessly pressed his thumb into the scanner to finally get you both through his door. 

Satoru brought you to his home, silently driving with only a firm grip on your thigh, finding solace in the small physical contact alone. Anything else would’ve enraged a monster inside of him, making him completely mad, as he sped through the street in his Daytona — mentally noting that he’ll need a more spacious car asap. 

Once more, you met his lips in a deeper kiss. His lips moved in tandem with yours, and the taste of his tongue fueled a warmth in your core, your panties pooling with warm slick, longing for him to touch it. 

“S-satoru,” you moaned out his name, your fingers grasping at his hair as his tongue traveled down the navel of your neck, peppering hushed kisses along your skin. Slipping a hand between your legs, rubbing your clothed core with the tip of his fingers, Satoru purred as he pushed you down onto his couch. 

You could feel his mischievous grin because his teeth grazed your skin, too late when you realized that he had his fingers doing circular motions against your clothed clit. “You’re so wet already,” he excitedly proclaimed, the hard rut of his erection rubbing against you. 

You squeezed your legs shyly as you nodded. “Yeah.”

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he shakily let out a breath, his pupils dilated as his palm pressed up down on your stomach up to your breasts, “and I wouldn’t mind that too much,” he murmured under his breath before latching his mouth onto a nipple, continously stroking your heated cunt with his vacant hand. 

It was as if your bodies were moving on its own, and you allowed it to dictate whatever action it desired. Forget everything for now, was all you could think of in your head — Kōji, Hanako, your child, all the pain, all the disappointment. Everything.

In your mind, it was all Satoru. He was the man you loved. 

He sucked the rounded mass, squeezing it before swirling his tongue around your nipple. All that you could do was let your hand grab a fistful of his hair until he moved to your right breast to give it the same attention.

Your breasts felt mildly sore with how he sucked on your bud, the slight pain felt even pleasurable as his fingers slowly moved your panty to the side, the thick slick of your sobbing cunt desperately wanting to coat his long, pretty fingers with your cum.

Though slow, you were at least successful in unbuttoning his white shirt. The heat of his defined abdomen felt like a sin to touch, as his stomach flinched at the plush of your fingertips grazing against his exposed skin. You then tried finding access to his zipper but with the rush of impatience and pumped adrenaline, your hands trembled, utterly making it impossible for you to even unbuckle his belt.

“Relax, angel,” he chuckled, his mouth releasing your tender breast with a sultry pop. With his arm caging you from above, kissing you while his hands swiftly grasped onto your wrists, he led your palms to cup the mold of his hardened, clothed cock. Satoru hissed at the contact as he pulled on your lower lip, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

You were laying underneath him with your legs spread open, submitted under complete bliss as you watched him unravel with his cheeks flushed while his brows deeply furrowed. Something about the way he desperately needed your touch, his hand forcing your palm to hold him harder, cup his throbbing cock as his hips started to thrust upward. 

You avoided his eyes, his blue eyes much too intense as if he could read through your soul.

“don’t be shy on me now.” he commanded, quickly sitting on his knees, his legs caging you at your waist with his crotch pushing against your entrance. Now grasping both your wrists, prompting you to pull down the zipper, pulling your hands into his briefs to pull out his cock. He was warm, your hand barely fitting in from the utter size of this man. Satoru grinned as he witnessed your small hands trying to wrap around his pulsing length. “we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” 

You gulped as you tried to laugh it off. It was ridiculous how big he was. Criminal that he was even pretty down there. 

The next thing you knew, he was pinning your wrist on either side of your head concurrently to when he latched his mouth back into yours. Your attention forced back onto the man that had you digging your nails into his skin as you felt himself lowering down. He was smothering you with soft kisses around your chest, stomach, and down to your inner thighs. By spreading your legs further apart, you could feel his mouth moving closer and closer to your cunt until his tongue found its way to delve into your slit. 

Holy shit. Was this how it feels to receive oral? Kōji’s never done it like this, especially not this well —

“A-Aaah! S-Satoru—!” you yelped as his hot tongue took a long stroke up your pussy.

His kisses were tender and deep, tracing the outline of your folds with the tip of his tongue as he breathed you in. Expertly parting your folds with his fingers so he could do a better job at lapping his tongue inside of your core, breathing you in and sucking your juices, allowing the squelching noises to tickle your ear like a sweet melody. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “You taste so good.”

Your nails were digging onto the couch, thighs pushing against his head, desperate to hold anything as you stared at the ceiling, seeing euphoric stars on his living room ceiling. It was in the way Satoru stroked his tongue around your clit, sucking at it tenderly as he teased his fingers at your entrance, coating up his fingers to easily enter inside your plush walls that made you tremble.

Your head felt dizzy as Satoru did more by flicking his tongue on your nub, soon replacing his mouth from ransacking your sweet pussy as he palmed your whole genital with a cocky smirk, when he felt your hips thrust upward, growing impatient at his lack of quickly fucking you.

“S-satoru please,” you begged, the heat of your body feeling as if you’ll explode if he touched you any further.

“Shh… I know, pretty,” kissing your inner thigh as he settled himself besides you, his arm snaking underneath to use as a neck rest, his hand holding your face to kiss him as he started to play with your pussy. Making short circles around your hardened bud, quickly holding you closer when he felt you clench as he pushed one, then two fingers, and ultimately three into you. 

He placed a gentle kiss to your temple, yet his fingers pressed harder on your clit,” let me play with you for a bit.”

Your muscles start to tighten, and the ache between your thighs become increasingly unbearable as the coiling tension inside your stomach burned a fire within you that was ticking to erupt. “You gonna cum?” Satoru breathed into your ear, his teeth nibbling your helix, the padding of his fingers intentionally grazing past your magical spot as he fingered you so erotically.

“P-please Satoru — ‘m close!” you desperately begged as tears welled up causing your impartial sight to feel even more suffocating. 

“Aw —” Satoru felt his eyes roll back from your dulcet moans, oh how he longed for you to cry out his name as he’s got you pinned under him. And your tears, god you looked so perfect crying for him. 

“Then cum.” He ordered before angling his fingers to finally poke at your g spot, the squelching, sultry sounds of your pussy echoing through his living room as your muffled cries were swallowed up by his lips. 

And moments thereafter, your bottom felt damp as warm liquid squirted out of you. “Such a good girl,” Satoru praised, his deep breath heavy and lascivious as he slowed his pace of fingering you. 

You were left breathless, your throat feeling dry while Satoru continuously kissed your body. “C’me here,” Satoru prompted, wrapping your arms around his neck before quickly holsting you bridal style, his lips never leaving yours as he walked up the stairs. 

You were so engrossed with the feeling of his lips that you didn’t even realize he had your legs wrapped around his waist. And with your arms around his neck, it was impossible to break the kiss as he led you to his bed, trails of clothes littered to leave an evidence of love. 

With each step he took, your kiss only got deeper and deeper. You had never felt such intensity throughout your relationship with Kōji, maybe you’ve had… but Satoru was intoxicating, leaving you drunk by his touch alone. 

You were gasping on his mouth, had his lips completely enveloped with yours. His lips inch around your jawline. Your neck. Your chest. Stumbling onto his bed, Satoru was quick to nestle in between your legs, his lips having no mind to stop kissing you even for a moment to breath, his hands feeling every inch of your heated body as he hardened bulge pressed against your tummy.

You feel the soft sheets on your back, the plush of his duvet lightly embracing your body as he settled himself on top of you. It was hard to look in his eyes, shy that you’ve just squirted in front of him — first try — when Kōji’s never been able to do that for you. But more importantly, when that thing between his legs looked so angry and wanting.

Would this even fit — Kōji’s wasn’t as big as Sato —

“What’s wrong?” he asked, grazing his thumb on your scar as he rested above you. You could feel his hard member brushing against your thigh while he gazed down at you in both worry and desire. “Look at me.”

“Y-youre really big,” you stammered, blinking your eyes from the shock of speaking out your intrusive thoughts. 

“Big?” emphazing your words while he chuckled, peppering kisses against your neck to ease your tense muscles. “never heard someone flat out say that about my cock. Most girls drool over it.”

“You fucked other girls?” you pinched his shoulder, obviously doing no damage from the sheer muscle he had packed under his skin.

“What can I do?” he gave you a wink, “I’m just so irresistible.”  

“Whatever —” you murmured while rolling your eyes, “... Are you like … eight inches?” 

“Probably a little over seven?” He hummed with both arms caging the sides of your head, spreading your thighs out so he could properly weave his body on top of yours. You can feel his heavy cock purposefully resting on top of your stomach as you felt him lightly grind his hips in a slow up and downward motion.

“you’re definitely not just a little over seven,” you gasped, caving into his touch, feeling your fiery core unbearable as you readied yourself to welcomed him in.

“I like to round down,” he teased, his soft lips landing on your temple. “But guess you’ll have to measure for yourself,” he soothed as he now rubbed his head against your wet folds, stroking his member as he made himself available for anything you’d want. “There’s two ways to measure,” his hand traveled to your throat, lightly grasping it before taking it down to your plush stomach, “your choice, princess.”

Wrong. In fact, there were three ways to logically go about measuring Gojo Satoru’s cock. 

Get a ruler and measure. 

Feel him deeply down your throat, gagging as his balls tickle your lips.

Feel the tip of his head pumping inside you, your palm locating just how far he inches inside.  

Gojo felt his heart rate pick up as he watched you, and it didn’t help how enticing you looked as crawled in between his legs, looking so dainty in between his thighs. You lean down, without giving him the leisure to breathe before pressing a soft kiss to the tip, and he groans, cock twitching slightly at the gesture. 

It was if he’s been bewitched by dark magic when he heard your soft giggles, hypnotizing his mind to think he was hallucinating from seeing you play with his needy head as you watched his cock twitch whenever you swiped your tongue under his frenulum. 

This was better than whatever he could’ve imagined when he fucked himself to sleep thinking of you these past nights ever since finding you.

Your lips perfectly wrapped around his aching length, and he’s choking on curses at the sensation of your warm mouth. 

“Fuck— you’re perfect,” his hand finding refuge on top of your head as he leads you in a slow pace. He truly had the prettiest cock that matched his beautiful angel-like face. You giggled again — god it sounded like heaven to his ears — as it twitched from your hold before you swirled your tongue around the pink tip, immediately tasting his precum that leaked so wonderfully out of his slit. It was salty, musky, but also a tad bit sweet? 

Gently sucking his head earned you a raspy moan out of him, so you teased him more by allowing his tip to reach your inner cheek as you tightened your mouth around his shaft. 

“God—fuck, mhm like that, baby,” he moans, a hand finding the top of your head, while the other rested on the base of your throat. Hollowing your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his shaft as your hand rubs his tense thigh. “feel so good, sweetheart, let me in deeper,” he rasps, and you feel pride swell in your chest at his praise. 

Your hand move to fondle with his balls, massaging them gently as his hands fist his crisp white sheets, a loud grunt ringing through the room as he curses. Your tongue runs over the vein on the underside of his cock, and his knuckles go white from tensing around the sheets, his harsh grasp turning tighter and tighter as he tries to ground himself.

“g-gonna cum, baby,” he chokes, “fuck, fuck, fuck, that feels good.” you bob your head up and down his length faster, swallowing around him a few more times before his back arches and his hips raise. You let him in deeper, forcibly closing your eyes as you gagged whenever his hard tip hit further into your throat. 

“Fuck princess —” Satoru released a harsh groan, his pupils dilated and iris’ dark as he concupisciently fucked your throat. 

Thrusting into your mouth as he whines, quickly squeezing your neck to feel just how far he was rummaging your throat, his eyes rolling back when he noticed the prominent bulging of your neck before thick spurts of cum painted your throat, deeply and fully with his cum. “fuck—that’s it, sweetheart.”

His voice cracks as he lets out strings of curses, with a few more ropes of cum, his body slumps over you, leaving him panting into the room as you pop off of his cock. 

“You’re spoiling me,” he rasped out with his lips barely formimg a smile, tired from how well you took his cock, “Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten.”

—

Gojo Satoru could last for hours.

His arms caressed the smooth skin of your back, his lips feathering kisses along your bust as you saddled yourself on top of him. His cock brushing against your wet pussy, warming himself up as you meticulously moved your hips slowly in response. 

Trying to muffle your moan that escaped your lips from being too loud, Satoru wouldn’t dare let you do that. Placing a finger into your mouth, playing with your hot tongue, he ordered, “stop that — I want to hear you.” 

“Ngh!” you immediately let out, the temptation to just force his cock into you much too unbearable. But Satoru knew that would be foolish — he would easily break you if he’d done that, and how could he? When he’s finally gotten you all for himself. 

“Let me get a condom —” 

“—Wait!” you stopped him from reaching for his night stand, his drawer partially opened to peak a box of XL condoms waiting to be used, “It’s okay…” you muttered.

Brushing his finger against your cheek, making sure if it was entirely okay with you,, “are you sure? It’s not a big deal for me to wear it.”

“Yes,” nodding your head as you leaned into his touch, “yea, I’m sure.”

“You think you’re ready?” He whispered while soothing your thighs, massaging your muscles as he laid soft kisses along your neck. 

“Mhm — yes. I’m ready ah —,” your moans left breathlessly out your lips, music to his ears as he changed positions, turning you over so your back laid comfortably on the mattress.

“Baby,” reaching out for a pillow to place under your hips, “let’s start with the tip, I’ll go slow.” 

“I can take it —” his kiss stopped you from continuing. “Don’t make this harder for me,” he warned before kissing you, his lips easing your starved cunt, drooling for him to fill you up. 

You can feel Satoru soaking his length with your slick, moving his member repeatedly through your wet folds as he prepared himself to enter. “Relax for me,” Satoru cooed when he felt your tight hole repelling his entrance, “ you gotta let me in, angel.” he cooly chuckled, yet voice wasn’t anything near passive — it was impatient and starved.

The once cool room now felt hot, filled with the smell of lubricious sex as you both laid bare on his mattress. The slight pain of him pushing his head inside was quickly masked into pleasure as his hands massaged your breasts and his lips left longing stamps of love all over your body.

 “Good, just like that,” Satoru's breath was warm as he continued to slowly press his length into you, often losing composure when he pushed a little too impatiently when you clenched down on him. “Fuck you’re so tight —” he groaned, gripping on the sheets to keep his sanity before possibly splitting you open. 

It was cruel how warm you felt inside. It was as if his cock was meant to be wrapped by your plush, sultry walls, and it was destined that he would be the one to fill the empty space up to your cervix, linking you both into one body. 

You felt full, and your mind felt cloudy to clearly tell if Satoru was all the way inside you. “A-are you in all the way?” you sniffled back the tears.

If he was the devil, you were his angel that’s tempted him to total damnation, abolished from the heaven’s for his idolatry of loving you despite the gods that created him. Because there was no way, any person would not go utterly mad when they could see what he saw.

“Almost.” Satoru answered with gritted teeth, barely holding on by a threat as he continued to push himself deeper inside you. “Ahh!” you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck, unintentionally pushing him further into you. 

“S-shit,” cursing under his breath as he started to pump his cock, forcing his way inch by inch through your tight walls, until he’s finally — in what seemed like tortuous ages — kissed your cervix. It was absolutely insane how your hole perfectly stretched for him, perfectly embracing his cock as he continued to fill the void inside you. 

Satoru’s member was warm inside you. Your bodies were tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking in the dimly lit room. And when you pulled away, your eyes brimming with tears were locked in a silent exchange of yearning as he looked at you with the same longing.

Without a word, Satoru reached out and gently cupped your breast, his touch sending electricity down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours. 

Your lips met once more, a tender exploration of each other’s mouths, and he was taking that chance to increase his pace. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter you again — with more grit, and force that you were clawing at his naked back, drawing harsh marks of red on his skin. You were whimpering under him, melting into his passionate movements as he fucked you in missionary. 

Your hands explored his body — his firm chest and defined six pack, to the perfect v-line down his pelvis to his pretty cock. And when you reached further down, grasping his buttocks, it felt  sculpted and perfectly round, just like how his back was now angry with his muscles bulging from the extraneous use.

Feeling you touch him, a smirk grows on his lips as he stripped you from being able to touch him, his cock pressing further in as he sat on his knees, his hands pushing your thighs to your chest. “You like what you see, sweetheart? It’s all yours.” 

Nodding as you reached out for him, “‘m cold Satoru, hold me,” you whined from the absence of his body heat made you feel suddenly empty.

He couldn’t deny your request because he quickly pressed his weight onto you, easily folding you like a chair as he fucked his cock into you, “see —” he placed a hand on your stomach, “aren’t you lucky girl, because this” he harshly rammed his cock into you, “is also all for you.”

Mine. like a hypnotic spell, a taunting melody, Satoru drilled it into your head that he was in fact all yours. 

You have had sex with Kōji countless times before, but it was never this emotional. It was never this passionate. But with Satoru, you could tangibly feel the difference in the way he kissed you, with the way he looked at you, with the way he touched you. Everything felt surreal when you were with him.

“S-satoru!” you yelped when his thrust penetrated deeper inside you, knocking your cervix as his hips slammed into your ass.

The sound of his deep chuckle slithered through your ears as he jolted his hips forward, sending you to a state of euphoria with every deep thrust. You were barely gripping onto his back, hoping it would give you some form of stability. “Focus,” he growled, the speed of his cock unforgiving as he rutted himself into your cunt, “think of me, only me.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to. He was just too much. It was only half past midnight and he’s already come twice. It was insane how he was still so hard, his libido still strong, as he pounded you with every bit of his strength to create more friction against your moistened cunt.

While your legs were tangled around his waist, his mouth latched onto your tit when he gave each bosom a lavish suck—even going as far as circling his tongue around your nipple. It was until he began increasing the speed of his thrusts when you could no longer contain your wanton cries, “A-Aah! S-Satoru, p-please d-don’t stop!”

“Cum,” he whispered on your ear, knowing full well that your orgasm was building back on your lower abdomen, “Cum for me, honey.”

“Satoru…” Breathless and overstimulated, your nails ended up scratching his back as you clenched around his girth, milking yourself around his cock followed by your helpless cries. Your chest was rising and falling heavily after you climaxed.

I missed you, he reasoned as he continued to pistol his cock inside you, now resting both your ankles on his shoulders as he watched your breasts rhythmically bounce around with each thrust. 

“S-satoru, I slow d-down! I just came —” Your moans came out louder than you initially expected, even louder than the skin-slapping noises from when his pelvis hit your ass. Your entire body was being pushed and pulled as he mercilessly drilled your hole with harsh jostles.

His room was dark, but even if you couldn’t see his face, you were certain that he had a million-dollar grin displayed. “Say my name.” he devilishly taunted, his voice leaving goosebumps over your body.

His shaft was already coated by slick and the squelching sounds only added to the intensity of your arousal. You barely managed out his name. “Sa-tor-u!”

“Good girl.” A wave of pleasure washed over your body when he quickly flipped you over, as the feeling of his hot breath tickled your spine. Your legs were shaking while your head fell on the cushion, leaving your ass up high and your face down low. 

His fingers were teasing your entrance despite already being stretched by his fully erected cock—satiating your clit with circular movements in synchronization with his penetrative actions. Satoru just adored how you clenched around him even through his words alone and that dominance he had over you was fueling his God complex. You could feel him trying to angle his cock better as he watched how it was disappearing from the cavern between your plump folds. And for him, nothing could look more perfect, more beautiful that your cunt stretched out so nicely to fit his cock.

“Ngh! So good… so good,” you whimpered in a breathless voice, upper body pressed against the mattress as he worked on destroying your pussy. Despite his devilish being, Satoru certainly fucked like a god as he sent you to seventh heaven when his tip rammed your g-spot. “Aah—ah! Fuck!”

Conniving. So wrenchingly cunning. He certainly wasn’t lying when he said he fucked well — too well, was the problem.

Pulling his hips back so that he’s just almost pulled out completely before he slams back into you, pressing against your sweet spot with his tip in the way only he would ever allow you to know. He’s gone through countless simulations as he fucked his fists thinking of how’d you look when making love. He knows where to kiss and hold and touch to make your eyes flutter shut, and your mouth fall open, wanton moans falling past your lips without a care in the world who can hear. 

“so tight, baby,” he whines, “god you’re so perfect—my perfect girl.” 

“so full,” you gasp, desperately holding onto the pillow for dear life, “feel so good —fuck.”

“'m getting jealous of a pillow,” he warns, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pulled the pillow away, a vein bulging from his temple, “but look at you, it’s a shame you can’t see what I see. Then you’d know why I can’t keep my hands off of you and so jealous — it’s fucking impossible.”

The increased roughness and speed in his pace caused you a shockwave of intense sensual gratification that sent you to euphoria. The moans and the salacious sounds that came from his rough pace drowned your room with a surge of bliss because Gojo never once stopped from plowing your cunt with his hardened member, deepening and hitting your most sensitive spot each time he penetrated you.

You can’t speak—all you can offer him as he’s bullying his thick girth into you is a pathetic whine as his veins drag along your walls, as his navel bumps along your clit and has your head thrown into the mattress. 

“P-please,” you begged, doing whatever you could to reach back and holding onto him.

You could feel a thick slick smeared along your inner thigh, the wet sound of his cock fucking into you, ringing in your ears along with his deep groans as he pants harshly against your ear. You can feel his breath against your skin, can feel the goosebumps and the flutter of your walls every time he makes a pretty little sound for you as you squeeze around him. 

With each thrust, you can’t help but be reminded when he pushes into you like he was always meant to fit right there, like he was always meant to feel you as you feel him too. 

“Love you,” he says between moans, face digging into your neck as your hand cradles the back of his head, his arms forcing you up, back arching into a bow as he continuously fucked you. “You’re my perfect, perfect girl. Can you feel me?” he gathers your other hand, covering your lower stomach to push down for you to feel a hard lump that angrily moved inside you, “this is what you do to me?”

You nod between sharp gasps and he holds you in wonder, at the way your lips look when they murmur that sweet little cry of his name, at the way your pussy sucks him in and hugs too tightly around him, at the way you look so good with the slight sheen of sweat on your face as you took his cock perfectly in. 

His hips roll, a little sloppy in rhythm now still fucking you just as hard and deep, just before letting you both fall onto the mattress with his weight pressing you down. Despite this being the first time he’s fucked you, he can sense it—the way you’re just about to fall apart on his cock, just like you always did in his dreams. So he pushes a hand underneath, pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing harsh circles that make you clench on him harder as you cry out moans that sound so mellifluous to his ears.

Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and absorbed the pleasuring feeling of his member that was plowing your velvet walls. Your dulcet moans with the combination of his sexy grunts echoed through your shared room in overflowing titillation. You wanted nothing else for him to fill you up again, just like he did with your throat hours ago.

“you close, sweetheart? gonna cum for me? 

“yeah,” you breathe, kissing him with hot, open-mouthed kisses that he returns, “ ‘m so close—f-fuck, so close, baby.”

You know he is. It’s in the way his cock twitches and the way his hips are desperate in the way they roll into you tells you he’s just as close to falling apart as you are. You push your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him impossibly deeper into your cunt before you feel the coil snap as you cum—hard. Your walls flutter around him, spasming and squeezing around him as he inhales sharply.

“I’m near,” he announced, spreading out your thighs with his knees, his balls slamming onto your buttocks as he has you pinned down from above, fucking you like his sex doll. He fucked at an animalistic speed, forcing you to grip his forearm as his force pushed you into his headrest — your body lower region feeling sore from the sheer amount he’s fucked you.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,“ he said it with a chuckle, his thrust unrelinquishing and you couldn’t help but absolutely adore just how he stared at you, held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And it only took a couple seconds for that softness to fade into lust as though the sex god in him manifested before you. “Feels. So. Fucking… Good!” His breathy grunts were released when his hips fell out of rhythm. 

“f-fuck, baby—’m gonna…” he doesn’t get to finish before you feel his cock twitch and his cum fills you. It’s hot and thick, sticky with every rope he fucks into you, leaking past his tip and painting your walls white. 

You can feel the mess he makes—can feel the drops leak and drip along your inner thighs as he slams into you with choked whines of your name. “god—” he gasps, breathless as his face digs into the crook of your neck, hugging you with his weight pressed on top of you as his arms tremble. 

Hot spurts of seed were shot straight to your womb, ensuring that every drop of his cum were loaded to your cervix. When he pulled out, you could feel his warm semen seeping out of your entrance because you were clenching naturally, twitching to keep his cum in. As you gasped for air, Satoru was very much proud knowing just how much he had cum inside of you.

Panting, “I love you,” he confessed, pecking your bruised lips.

Your mouth vibrated against his. “Mm— me too.” you tiredly responded back. Every inch of your body felt sore to even move.

It’s silent for a bit. Only the harsh, labored pants as you both tried to calm down and catch your breaths echoed in his bedroom. Satoru still had his nose buried against your neck, shifting his weight to the side as he slowly flipped you over on your back, hugging you tightly as your hands soon rubbed over his back tenderly.

You notice a indent on his left scapula, your fingers tracing the scar most likely caused from the impact of falling down the stairs years ago. You kissed his shoulder as you weaved your fingers through his sweaty scalp, confessing your love for the first time, “I love you.” 

“Yea I know,” he grunted before lifting himself up to cage your head between his arms, his heavy body intimately pressed on top of your smaller frame, “You were obsessed with marrying me when you didn’t even have your front teeth —”

“Shut up,” you pinched his cheeks, getting an exaggerated ow! from your lover. “You never said no to my proposal, so you’re just as obsessed.”

“I never denied it,” his expression changes before he pressed his lips onto yours, deepening the kiss.

“Satoru.” his name breathlessly flowed out your lips, music to his ears from the years of his silent yearning for you to call him. “We need to shower, your sheets are dirty —”

“we need to clean up—” another kiss “— and oh god your couch —”

“just one more,” he insisted, his tongue making his way into your mouth.

Pushing him away, you’re met with an obviously offended look. “You have work tomorrow, and I have a night shift after work,” 

“I’m rich, I have more than enough money for you to quit your jobs,” he obviously stated, “and that fucktard isn’t not your responsibility anymore. So look at me, take care of me, I’m needy and need your kisses now.” he tried pushing himself onto you.

But you press a hand to his mouth, blocking his lips from touching yours as he pouts against you, but he still presses himself closer thinking that’ll make you succumb to his desires.

“Nope.”

He grumbles, muffling something incoherent against your palm. You roll your eyes, amused at how you’ve come to love this manchild, moving your hand to cup his cheek as you stroke his lips with your thumb.

“If you’re good,” you press firmly on his bruised flesh, inciting a small painful flinch from your lover, “I’ll kiss you all you want if you do as I say.”

“No,” he moped, “you’d still kiss me when I’m bad, so what’s the point?”

“So you admit you’re bad,” you raise a brow, making him grin cheekily, “I thought you’d always listen and be good.”

“I can be,” he shrugs, “but fucking god I love it when you put me in my place.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you tiredly sighed, releasing control to give him what he wanted. It only makes him chuckle, leaning in again as his lips hover over yours, making you inhale sharply as you feel his breath fan over your mouth before kissing you for the millionth time. “Heh I’ll always win.”

With him kissing you, you’d think everything that had happened last night was nothing more than a fever dream. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, it all felt surreal — like a glass menagerie teetering on the edge of shattering. You wondered if it would be okay to stay here for now — to be loved by and to love him deeply. To forget about the rest of the damn world and its burdens by simply remaining in his arms, resting in his comfort as you stared at his beautiful face, listening to his slow and steady heartbeat.

At that exact moment, as you moved together in perfect harmony, breathing each other’s air while being intimately held in each other’s arms, you felt his heartbeat radiating to your chest, beating oh so loudly as it healthily pumped blood to his body, signaling he was indeed alive. And it was in his presence alone, that he fills you with comfort.

And in that, with Gojo Satoru, you knew that you were finally home.

—

Hours later when you were asleep in his arms, Satoru receives a text.

From: Ijichi

Mr. Nakamura and Miwayaki-san have both been notified of their termination. Furthermore, as instructed, all and any neighboring companies would be promptly alerted if they ever submit their applications for a job. Miwayaki-san will have her apartment stripped from her, and all debts of Mr. Nakamura will be doubled to account for interest and all payments made on his behalf would be returned to the original payer. 

author's note: wow... if you've read up to the end, I just want to say thank you for giving this a chance. I was hesitant on releasing this, especially with the wc being so long ... but if you've enjoyed it, then that's all that matters. have a good one (o˘◡˘o)

[bunnis-monsters]

A bunny hybrid reader that notices a male fox hybrid following them and watching from a far. Naturally you get nervous cause foxes prey on bunnies! But it turns out he’s very shy and wants to court a cute chubby bunny but doesn’t know how to. Maybe he’s also a soft dom with praise kink? 🤭

NSFW

warning: chasing(slight predator/prey?), breeding, praise kink

You had felt eyes on you since the moment you entered the forest you usually collected herbs from. It wasn’t exactly unusual to feel watched considering many other hybrids called the forest home… but today it felt… different.

You spotted a fleck or red, the shade making your fight or flight kick in.

Instantly you began sprinting, dropping your basket and booking it back to your cabin. You didn’t dare turn around, your poor heart racing as your fluffy bunny ears picked up the sound of running behind you.

“W-wait!”

You cried out in fear at the sound of your pursuer calling for you to stop, shaking your head. “N-no, go away!”

You reached your home, quickly locking your door and peering out the peep hole as your fluffy cotton tail twitched nervously.

There was a fox hybrid outside on your porch, sniffing the air and rubbing his face against every surface he could… was he leaving his scent there for later?

“Please come out… I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”

This happened nearly every day for a month. The fox chased you, nearly running you over before you got into your cottage at the end of the day.

That was until you weren’t fast enough.

The fox had been studying the way you move, when you took the shortest of breaks to catch your breath, and when you quickened your pace again to get away. Bunnies were masters at escaping… but foxes were very smart.

You knew something was different this time. Call it instinct, call it just coincidence, but you noticed that he wasn’t running after you as fast as usual… and his eyes were following your every movement the entire time.

Like he already knew he was going to catch you… it was just a matter of time.

You were too slow as you turned a corner, slipping on some pine straw and crashing to the ground. In seconds he was on top of you, and all you could do was close your eyes and hoped he killed you quickly…

But his jaws never closed around your neck. After a few moments of silence, you opened your eyes to see him butting his head against you affectionately, his tail swaying behind him.

His eyes were half lidded, staring down at you with infatuation and adoration.

“I’ve finally got you, little bunny.”

He was absolutely glued to your side now, clinging tightly to you as you hesitantly made your way home. The fox seemed absolutely smitten, sometimes softly nipping at your fluffy ears or neck, startling you.

“So pretty… you smell so, so good…”

After dinner he curled up with you, his fluffy tail swaying as he kept rubbing his scent on your neck. Could he tell that you were close to your heat? Is that why he had become interested in you?

“I’ve wanted you for so long… you’re cute and just the softest thing I’ve ever seen… but it’s hard approaching a bunny when you’re a fox.”

Your cheeks heated up as he pressed against you, your cotton tail wagging furiously when his bulge rubbed against your clothed cunt.

It wasn’t long until your next heat cycle, and it was clear that he knew it too. He continued to purr as he grabbed hold of your hips, guiding your bunny cunt over his bulge slowly.

When you let out a stifled whine, he smiled, giving your soft bunny ear a nibble. “Mmm, that’s a good girl. You’re so soft and pretty, let me take care of you, sweetheart…”

Within seconds he had your panties off, his fingers stretching your whole. As they pumped in and out of you, his lips met yours in a needy kiss.

His tongue explores your mouth, entangling with yours. It was hard to think with all these new sensations…

“Come on, bunny… lemme see that pretty pussy of yours, hmm?”

You shyly opened your legs, and he moved to position his cock at your entrance. At this point you were whining and bucking your hips, ready to be mated.

It was reassuring when he held onto your hand as his cock sunk into your fat bunny cunt, his face burying itself into your neck.

“F-fuck, so good… god…”

His grip on your hips tightened, the soft flesh warm against his hand. He’d never had something so soft and cute underneath him… you were amazing…

It felt too good, his cock was rubbing and touching all of the best spots, making your clit throb. As soon as he noticed, he moved his hand to rub circles around your clit while he picked up speed.

As he fucked into you, whining into your neck, he said the cutest things.

“I love you… love you so much, so fucking pretty…” he blubbered, his teeth grazing against your neck before he bit you.

“G-gonna… gonna knock you up, okay? Gonna be my cute little mate…”

Those words had your walls fluttering around him, your toes curling as the two of you came together.

After coming down from your respective highs, he became a bit shy again, giving your cheek a tentative lick. “You did well, pretty girl…”

You simply butted your head against him affectionately, returning his soft purrs.

Now, you had a mate, a sweet one at that. You didn’t have to worry about other bunnies bothering you when a fox called your cottage home.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[ashhh-14]

"Why's there only one bed?!"

part 2

Part 1

Featuring - Dan heng, Gepard, Jing yuan & Blade

Info- '......' meaning short timeskip

A/n- yes I'm not dead pfft. The idea was given by @tigerpriestess when i posted the first piece, i started writing this one when i read the suggestion cuz it was intriguing but my writer's block hit like a truck so yeahhh, finally here's the part 2. Happy reading!

Dated : April 15, 2024

It's been a week since Dan Heng's brain was in a frenzy. The night you two shared one bed together, how you held his hand, your soft skin against his cheek, how you kept him company when he was restless. But... Why are you acting like nothing even happened from the very next morning? Was he overthinking everything? Was that night's events a mere act of care and nothing more?

You poured yourself a cup of coffee, sleep evident in your actions since you didn't wake up too long ago. Turning around to head back to your room, you bumped into something firm. You stumbled back a little, only for an arm to wrap around your waist preventing your fall. You looked up, eyes coming in contact with those beautiful orbs you love looking into, "Dan Heng?" You were unable to read his face as your breath hitched at his intense stare, his feet moving forward, backing you up against the counter as you found yourself in an inescapable position," What-What's wrong?" He started leaning closer, the grip you had against the mug slowly loosening the more he leaned in.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" A confused expression took over your features as you looked up at him, only making you two even closer, barely an inch of space separating you two.

"Tell me (Y/n). Was what you did that night, was it really just out of care? Do you really not feel anything for me? For us?" His expression remained unchanged but on the inside, he was anxious. Anxious on what you'd say, anxious that he'd lose you to this situation, to these feelings. Your breath halted, mind processing his words. Does that mean he feels...? You thought he was a man incapable of these feelings, always wanting to stay closed off from the world then....

"I do, I feel a lot more for you than you can imagine." Your voice was only able to come out as a whisper as you saw his eyes light up, his arms pulling you closer against him as the mug slipped off your hand, crashing against the floor but that didn't stop him from leaning closer, your lips about to graze each other when, "How dare you two break pom pom's favourite mug!!"

Your eyes scanning the fabric of clothing from a new shop opened in Belobog, heavy footsteps entering the shop took your attention away.

'Oh no it's him again.'

As quickly as you can, you paid for the stuff you've already selected and scurried out the shop. Your hurried actions not going unnoticed by the captain of silvermane guards. 'Tenth time now this month.' His jaw clenched.

............

You made your way to the front door of your house as you heard the bell ring, peeping into the peephole to check who it was, you lightly gasped to yourself as you saw the captain of Silvermane guards. Your mind scrambled on what to do as voice from the other end of the door spoke.

"Don't even try this time. I'm not leaving until I talk to you."

You bit your lip in contemplation, releasing a deep sigh as you twisted your wrist, opening the door. You didn't dare meet his eyes as you walked inside, hearing the front door click shut behind you.

"Do you want some water?" You spoke aimlessly in a futile attempt to reduce his stare on you. Moving along the kitchen island you went to grab a bottle of water when you found yourself trapped inbetween the counter and a firm Chest. The hand that was stretched outward for the water came back infront of you, two much larger hands intertwining with back of yours and pressing both of them on the counter as if to make sure you won't run away again.

"Gepard..." Your voice came out meekly. You knew what this was about. You exactly knew but you didn't want to address it. It would ruin a lot of things, and you weren't willing to risk that.

"Why're you doing this?" Gepard's voice came out as a mere whisper, as if all the resolve from earlier broke. Releasing one of your hands he circled it around your waist, pulling you against him tight. As if it was a way of reminding both you and him why exactly was he here. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"Why do you keep avoiding me? Why are you so adamant on running away and not give us a chance to even talk about it."

You closed your eyes releasing a soft sigh. "There's really no point in talking about that Gep. It's futile. Plus you're my bestfriend's-"

"God woman she knows that I like you." Your breath got caught in your throat as you let his words sink in. "What..."

If it was possible, he pressed you even more against himself, nodding against your shoulder. "So will you just stop running away?" His voice had a certain edge to it that you couldn't quite pin point.

You looked back over your shoulder just as he leaned down, his lips pressing against the corner of yours.

"When are you planning on talking to him?" Asked Lady Fu as she stirred sugar into her tea cup.

The divination commission's weather was pleasant today. A gentle breeze soothing the skin but it did nothing to soothe your aching heart.

"I honestly don't know" you said, distracted by how the birds are flying overhead.

"You'll have to talk to him eventually. You can't keep on avoiding him. He might look aloof but he noticed it the very first time you sent another cloudknight to give him the reports which you usually do yourself." She took a sip of her tea.

"I'm just trying to delay it as much as I can. I can't find it in me to face it just yet." You sighed.

...........

"Long time no see Admiral" A soft yet firm voice spoke, head tilting sideways to look at you.

"Yes General." You nodded in agreement, climbing the stairs up to his chair, placing the stack of papers in front of him from the recent report on the stelleron.

"So...Was there any particular reason you asked of me today?" You stated slowly, trying to scan his face for what he's thinking but you should have known better.

His laugh echoed through the room, making your heart flutter. "I just wish to catch up. It's almost break. Mind joining me for a walk?"

.......

Cutting the walk short as Jing yuan took a seat beneath a tree, you stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "General?"

He chuckled.

"This is usually my nap time, forgive me for the tardiness. Why don't you join? I assure I won't be keeping you long." His voice spoke, extending a hand towards you.

You looked at it a little hesitant. You remember the last time you let him get too close to you. You're still having a hard time trying to forget those memories.

You took it after a moment of contemplation, stepping a foot forward when the world spun and you found yourself on Jing yuan's lap.

Your eyes widened a fraction, looking up at the said man as he slipped an arm around your waist. His other hand came up to trace your face as he stared intently in your eyes. Not able to take his gaze any longer you looked away.

Your name fell from his lips like a symphony and you found yourself looking at him again, your heart having a hard time assessing the situation as you placed a cautious hand to his chest, as if to create some sort of space between you two.

"There's no reason for you to run away." His tone dropping a note softer, his thumb traced over your bottom lip.

Your breath shuddered and you risked whispering "Please don't give me false hope."

"I'm not." Was all he said before he bent down and placed his lips against yours.

It was just another night as you strolled the streets of Luofu. The wind was nice today, you thought as you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You didn't need to look back to see who it was. "Done with the work already Blade?" You mused looking up at the said male from corner of your eye as he fell in step beside you.

"Well what do you think smartass?" He said with a raised eyebrow, a smirk threatening to break on his lips.

"A simple 'yes' would have been much more appreciated." Turning your face, you narrowed your eyes at him.

With that you both took off in a run, jumping off the ridge and down into the abyss as you were pulled against blade. "Can't have you hurting now can we?"

.........

You sucked in a sharp breath as Blade tightened up the bandage around your arm.

"Why the hell did you go on the mission that was assigned to both of us." It was more of a statement than a question as you scanned his features while his eyes were fixated on wrapping up your wounds.

"I needed to clear my head" And that was enough for him to snap his gaze up towards you, his jaw clenching further as if challenging you to saying something more.

It was partially the truth. You wanted to clear your head, but you omitted the part that you wanted to clear your hear off him. The light-hearted banter you both rejoiced in usually has been turning your heart ablaze recently, and you were certainly not going to let it do that.

In the next instant you found yourself sprawled against the bed, your back hitting it with a soft thud as you found Blade on top of you. "Do not test my patience." His voice was low and threatening as you averted your gaze, brows furrowing as your eyes fell on the chain encircling his neck. You reached a hand up, tracing the silver chain as you felt the engraved words around your finger tips.

He made no movements to push you away as you hesitantly looked at him. To any other it would have looked like Blade's normal poker face but you knew better.

Propping yourself up on one elbow the other pulled him down as you crashed your lips against his.

Him wearing your name was all you needed to know.

Masterlist

Written by yours truly

[st4rymoon]

✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions” you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

[teamatsumu]

the best bad decision. (iwaizumi hajime x reader)

summary: “wrote a confession for character A, accidentally gave it to character B instead” - for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions

word count: 2.3k

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, oikawa is insensitive sometimes, fluff

tags: @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

event masterlist

You liked to think you weren’t one to fall into stereotypes. But every once in a while you did something that reminded you that you weren’t different from everyone around you. Like right now, standing hidden behind the corner of this building, clutching an obvious red envelope in your hands, waiting for the volleyball team to shuffle out of their club room so you could sneak in and slip the envelope into a certain boy’s locker.

So you had a tiny little crush on everyone’s favorite boy, Oikawa Tooru. Sue you.

Your ears were on high alert, staying as still as possible so you could focus on the voices drifting out of the room. You were a bit farther away, since you wanted to be hidden, but if you strained yourself enough, you could make out the sounds. You tried not to make yourself tense, afraid you would wrinkle the envelope. You had been so careful with it. Making sure you didn’t smudge any words as you wrote, perfuming the paper afterward. You even used that expensive wax and seal that you bought only for journaling purposes. You wanted it to be known that you made an effort.

All for him.

It was hard not to fall for someone as charming as Oikawa. He was tall and handsome, he was always so nice, always welcoming to anyone who wanted to speak to him. He was beyond talented. You could watch him play for hours. You did watch him play for hours. At the end of the day, you were just like all the other giggling, blushing girls who admired him.

The only difference is that you had never gone farther than admiration until now. You had never spoken to him, never greeted him in the hallways, never made him anything to eat like girls often did. You had watched from afar and basked in the warm, bubbly feeling that comes with having crushes.

But now here you were, slipping him a letter with all your feelings written on it. You were going into this not expecting him to accept the confession. You hadn’t even put your name on it. It was anonymous. God knows how many of these he got on a daily basis. And with Valentine’s Day approaching, you were sure his locker was overflowing. What was one more, right? You were doing this for yourself more than anything else. You needed to get these feelings out because they were overflowing in your head.

You were shaken from your thoughts when you realized the locker room was completely silent by now. You listened closely, giving it another few minutes. No shuffling, no humming, not even a peep. The coast was clear.

You could feel your entire body shake as you turned the corner and stealthily hurried to the club room door. You couldn’t let anyone see you going inside, so you quickly opened the door, slipping in and sliding the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh of relief.

Then you turned around, and your eyes met wide chestnut ones.

Oikawa was standing next to an open locker, a half folded shirt in his hand. He had probably been mid fold when you had barged in, staring at you with those big browns, mouth slightly open. Thick silence stretched over you both as you stood frozen, not even blinking.

Oikawa’s eyes drifted down to your hand, the very obvious, deep red envelope. His lips twitched before a smile took over them.

“Hello there.” His voice was lively. “Is that for me?”

You tensed at the sound of his voice, your panic finally catching up to your brain as you gulped around the knot in your throat. “No!”

He raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head a bit. A lock of his hair fell over his forehead. “No?”

“No.”

Another silence, awkward as anything. You couldn’t move at all. You felt like you were frozen in place. Every muscle in your body was pulled tight. You had never anticipated that of all the people who could catch you in the locker room, it would be Oikawa himself.

“So who’s it for?” He then asked, eyes darting between your face and the envelope. You felt your face burn, heating up so much it made you dizzy.

“It’s-” Your mouth was so dry. You had no saliva. None. Not a drop. It felt like you were incomprehensible. Could you even speak? Or was it all gibberish? Were you spiraling now?

Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-

“It’s for Iwaizumi-san.”

Oikawa blinked at that, and you realized you had caught him off guard. Well, he wasn’t the only one. You had caught yourself off guard too. It seemed that, in the midst of your panic and staring at Oikawa, the only other person you could name was Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi Hajime. Oikawa’s best friend. Seijoh’s ace. Someone you saw just as much as Oikawa considering they were attached at the hip. No wonder when you had to think of someone, you thought of him.

“Well now I’m truly shocked!” Oikawa sounded jovial, placing a hand on his hip, his half folded shirt crumpled in his other hand. “A confession for Iwa-chan? I never thought this day would come!”

Your mind raced and you tried to scramble your thoughts together into somewhat understandable sentences. But you had just dug this fresh hole for yourself and you didn’t know what to do to get out of it. In fact, at this moment, there was no getting out of it. You had to go along.

“Y-yes.” You managed to blurt out, not knowing what else to say, looking anywhere but at him, who was steadily growing more and more amused by the second.

“You have to give it to him!”

Your head snapped up, and that’s when you realised what true panic was. What you had felt so far was nothing compared to the shitstorm your brain was experiencing after what he had just said.

“Come on.” Oikawa threw the shirt carelessly into his locker, slamming it shut and fast walking to you. With one grip on your forearm, he tugged open the club room door and proceeded to speed out of it, dragging you with him.

“W-wait!” Your voice trembled, and you doubt he even heard you. You felt like your whole mouth was stuffed with cotton. You tried to lock your legs into place and break Oikawa’s momentum. It was not happening. He was way stronger than you. You tried to pry his hand off your arm, but his grip was vice-like.

“Oikawa-san!” You basically shrieked like a hyena, finally breaking through right outside the Seijoh gym. You snatched your hand away.

“I can’t!”

Oikawa stared down at you, blinking owlishly. You bit your lip.

“Oh.” He breathed, and you saw realization wash over his face. You froze. Had he figured it out?

“I get it.” Did he?

Then he promptly turned around and cupped his mouth with his hands, leaning in through the open gym doors.

“Iwa-chan!” He shouted.

You gaped at him, struggling to even comprehend what was going on in his head. But that was the least of your worries, because trudging footsteps sounded and then the boy in question was standing in the gym entrance, scowling down at his friend.

Oh no. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad, I’m so screwed-

“Look!” Oikawa pointed at you, or more accurately, he pointed at the envelope in your hand. Iwaizumi followed his gaze, and you saw his scowl drop as shock colored his features.

“It’s for you! Can you believe it?” Oikawa let out a cackle, leaning an arm against the gym door. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Iwaizumi looked genuinely incredulous, like this was something he hadn’t dreamt of in his wildest dreams. Later when you looked back on what happened, you would be surprised that despite being friends with the most popular guy on campus, Iwaizumi did not get much attention. He lived in Oikawa’s shadow, and he liked it that way.

Right now, his feelings were the least of your concerns though.

Finally free from Oikawa’s grasp, you lunged forward, slamming the envelope against his chest before turning on your heel and absolutely booking it. There was no other option. You couldn’t give that shit to Iwaizumi. You also couldn’t give it to Oikawa and say you had lied. It couldn’t get any more humiliating than it already was, so you might as well run away.

Very active fight or flight response, one might say.

Oikawa watched your back as you ran full speed, one hand holding the envelope he was so unceremoniously handed. He turned his attention down to it when the flowery scent hit his nose, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Aw, she perfumed it too! How romantic.”

He grinned up at Iwaizumi, whose ears had turned red. Iwaizumi’s scowl deepened as he stared at the shiteating grin on Oikawa’s face. But he didn’t stop himself from taking the envelope Oikawa handed to him, his heart doing jumping jacks in his chest.

………………..

When you tried to convince your mom that you didn’t really need high school when homeschooling was a perfectly viable option, she told you to suck it up and there was no way you were dropping out. You didn’t know how to tell her that your life in high school was pretty much over. How could you show your face in any place where you might run into Oikawa or Iwaizumi?

But alas, you could only take one sick day before throwing yourself back to the wolves.

You were jumpy the whole day, paranoid that somehow everyone knew what had happened two days ago. But your day went by as normal, unaffected by the storm in your head. You should’ve known your peace wouldn’t last. At lunchtime, the one person you had been dreading the most was standing before your desk, looking down at you expectantly.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Well. This was it. The one thing you were hoping and praying you could somehow avoid.

Iwaizumi led you outside for some privacy, finding an empty bench overlooking the school’s running track. You sat stiffly by his side, waiting for him to speak.

“I read the letter.”

You closed your eyes and nodded, coaxing him to continue. You knew the contents of the letter. You had mulled them over in your head ten thousand times yesterday. You had not written Oikawa’s name. You had talked only about how you felt about him and the thoughts plaguing your head. You knew how easily Iwaizumi could have thought it was about him and not Oikawa.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out.

“For the confession?”

You hesitated. “For how it all played out.”

That was vague enough.

Iwaizumi let out a breathy chuckle, and you looked up at him. “I think I should apologize instead. Oikawa can be a bit of an insensitive jerk.”

You felt your lips twitch into a smile, shrugging. “He kinda steamrolled all over me.”

Iwaizumi groaned, running a hand through his spiky hair. You followed the movement with your eyes, gaze pausing on how his bicep flexed. Something in your heart stuttered.

Up close, he was extremely attractive. His skin was smooth and clean, and his hair looked soft despite being so short. His jaw was defined and his eyes were striking. When he looked at you for longer than a beat, it made your insides squirm.

“I’m sorry about him. He told me he found you in the club room. I’m sure you wanted to do it anonymously. He shouldn’t have dragged you here. That wasn’t cool.”

You smiled at how considerate he was being. “It- It’s okay.”

“And I’ll make him apologize to you too. Promise.”

His lip ticked up in a crooked smile. You couldn’t help but stare. You watched him grow a bit nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. A little habit?

“I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me sometime?”

The question caught you off guard. You knew how Iwaizumi perceived you after the contents of that confession. You had just not anticipated that he would want anything to do with you. In your slurry of thoughts, you realized you had still not told him that the confession wasn’t for him. You stared at him, wide-eyed.

The sun beat down on your heads, casting harsh shadows on his face. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. And those same captivating eyes. You couldn’t remember ever appreciating him the way you were right now. Oikawa’s light was so bright it made Iwaizumi almost invisible. But here and now, it was just him. No distractions, no takeaways. Just Iwaizumi in all his glory. And it was making your heart skip.

“Okay.” You breathed.

Iwaizumi positively lit up at your words, straightening his back. His features smoothed, his eyes widened and a smile took over his face.

“Cool!” He blurted out, before clearing his throat. “That’s uh, I mean. Great. That’s great.”

You giggled as he stumbled over his words, endeared by his reaction. Your heart and mind both told you this was the right decision. With Oikawa, it was a puppy crush. With Iwaizumi, something told you it could be so much more.

Years later, when you told Iwaizumi about the exact intentions of that letter, and how you were beyond grateful you hadn’t given it to Oikawa, all he did was cackle while the Argentinian setter whined about how he had missed his chance.

He was joking, of course. He was the proudest best man ever at your wedding. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[karasunoya]

yeah no sorry but I cannot, for the life of me, subject my poor heart to angst and hurt/no comfort fics. Still traumatized from "living with thorns crushing my heart" and "i wanna die before thirty" and i just SKIMMED (literally!) those motherfuckers 😭 (now i remembered their existence again AH DUMB BITCH)

[katz-chow]

any thoughts for pervy könig? i know he'd be so gross amd clingy, constantly stealing panties and huffing at them :( or watching you across from the showers, fisting his leaky cock and making eye contact with you :(

i bet he'd be stalk you 'nd everything !!! being so creepy and openly desperate :(

ignore this if you're uncomfortable !!

warnings: nsfw, gn! reader, pervy, toxic, power play, corruption kink, stalking, somnophillia, not proofread :D

all the things that lead up to that though, waiting and stalking you to see your reaction to everything hes doing.

him purposely putting a hand on your lower back to walk past you, his large hand traveling a bit too far down until you feel a squeeze on your ass

the next time he does it, you quickly arch into his grasp and look at him with those doe eyes of yours, all innocently. from then on, he knows how cheeky and desperate you are

always teasing you by making you go shower last, saying he needs some…help with paperwork. you always agree because he’s your superior!! why wouldn’t you??

ends up with the both of you in the empty showers late at night, you rubbing the soap down your body with the open curtains, allowing him to lean back on the benches by the lockers to feel his pants tighten, your freshly worn underwear in his hand.

by the time he finally pulls his stiff, leaky cock out, he can’t help but use your underwear to jerk him off :( it’s the closest thing he’ll allow himself to you, you’re just so young and precious!!

will keep your cum stained underwear to “wash for you”. you ended up never seeing them again…along with a few other pairs

pervy konig who sneaks into your room while you’re asleep using his rank to get the master key. he sits there kneeling on the floor next to your bed as he sniffs your hair and your musk, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat from your sleep

he inhales your scent and just like that, he leaves his own potent one, cumming on your sheets…or if he’s feeling rather possessive, he’ll grind against your arm or hand until he cums all over you

pervy konig who grinds up against your ass when you’re both supposed to be focusing on a debrief, but he doesn’t care, it could’ve been an email. not his fault you’re standing next to him, your smell just turns on something feral in him

making you go into parade rest, your hands behind your back to grope and touch his growing bulge while no one dares peep a word about him grinding and grunting in the back of the room, he’s their superior too!! why would they risk getting in terrible trouble? especially harsh when someone that’s not him making you embarrassed

pervy konig who thigh fucks you, rarely ever allowing his dick to your oh so needy parts, slick dripping down your thighs and mixing with his own precum. when he thinks you’re doing particularly good, hell intentionally slide higher and rub against you, making you tremble and moan, edging you and denying. it leaves you all needy, allowing him to do all the pervy stuff just for the chance that he might authorize you to cum

“you’re too good for me, schätzelein…can’t stand ruining you yet…”

[midascrow]

Alastor x Gn!Reader

Favoritism pt.1

part 2

————/////————————//////

Synopsis: the others notice a certain Deer Demons positive behavior regarding one of the staff. (Reader)

a/n: reader is portrayed as pretty meek and quiet. At least upon first meeting people, and I may continue that trait in part 2 or have them open up a bit more.

———————————————/—/——————

“Don’t ya think it’s kinda…I dunno..weird?”

Charlie’s shiny eyes snapped up from the sparkly cards and glue strewn across the living room table. “What’s weird?” Angel hummed, one set of arms crossed thoughtfully as his eyes swept towards the far corner, watching a certain Radio Demon quietly chat with one of the hotels…”staff” members.

“That Smiles, is so sweet on (Y/n) and not the rest of us?” His hand waved around dramatically, watching Charlie’s eyes widen as they spun towards the aforementioned duo, studying them for a moment for any sign of irregular behavior on the deer demons part. Although not much could be considered regular in regards to him

“I’m pretty sure Alastor is just as much of a prick to them as he is to everyone else.” Vaggie huffed from her spot on the couches armchair, a small magazine in hand that she carefully tried to cut apart for the days craft. Scrapbooking, if it wasn’t clear. “…your markers bleeding babe..”

“Oh shoot!”

Angel guffawed, bolting up right and letting his arms flail wildly in disbelief. “No way toots! Don’t you remember when he first brought them ovah? As one of ‘s lil “Helpahs”?” He turned, “Huskers you know what I’m on about don’t ya?”

The grumpy cat deflated with a sigh, setting down a freshly cleaned glass just to pick up another and start again. “That demon, plays with souls and sinners like no other shitlord out there. And that one,” his clawed finger shot out to point dagger straight at you “just so happens to be his favorite. End of story.”

Charlies lips pursed at that, a small shimmer in her expression that made Vaggies brow furrow in stress, watching her lover fall back into her own mind and remember the hotels first ever introduction to you.

—————

“Now my friends, I do have one more favor to cash in on. I expect you all on your best behavior in regards to them..” His red eyes lingered on Angel with a sneer. “I won’t take kindly to any damage done by your hands.” The static that swelled behind his words reached its peak, before muffling once a small figure materialized just beside him.

A clawed hand curled atop your shoulder and if not for the familiar chill, perhaps you would’ve jumped, but the buzz of static and the crackle of a radio was a comforting sound you had grown all too close to.

“Now, this sweet thing is (Y/n), a special little friend of mine who will help you, though- mainly me, keep the hotel on tip top shape- isn’t that right dear?”

Your gaze darted around, and the others watched as you barely made a peep before a gentle smile pulled on your lips and you nodded..strange for someone in the company of the Radio Demon.

“What’s up with them? Can’t talk or what?” Angel mused, almost rudely, winking under your watchful eye that was almost..freakishly intense.

Alastor hummed and buzzed for a moment, gazing down at you in thought. “No No, just a bit shy is all. Always on the quieter side…”

“That won’t be a problem will it?” The static fluxed and swayed around them, shadows scratching at the walls of his underlying threat, that cut through the air.

……..

The princess was admittedly worried by your timid nature. You were almost…paranoid in a sense, looking as if you wanted to melt into the floor at any sign of confrontation, friendly or otherwise.

But…she did notice you seemed oddly at ease around the Overlord. Sticking close, though typically he was the one following you around as you did..whatever it is you were brought over to do.

She was even reminded of one instance, where you had been scuttling around, a stack of fresh dishes held precariously in your clammy hands as you made your way to the kitchen.

Charlie had been too busy at first to notice, she was speaking with Alastor about the future promotion of the hotel, when the loud sound of glass shattering rang through the room.

All heads snapped towards the cause, only to spot you, wide eyed and flat on the floor surrounded by dozens of broken plates and glasses.

Seemed you had tripped on a loose bit of tile.

Now, Husker just had been throughly..scolded by the Hotelier for dropping a bottle just a few hours prior, so the patrons and staff watched with baited breath as the ever encompassing form of the radio demon stalked towards your dejected form.

Vaggie had drawn her spear right as the crash had happened, ready to step in at any moment should she need.

But the others could only watch in surprise as you were gently ushered to your feet with soft dusts off your shoulder, and a little snap of clawed fingers. The mess disappeared in a flash, and your uniform was carefully adjusted by the tall red deer who softly scolded you.

“Now now my dear. You must remember not to overwork yourself. Can’t have you in poor shape now can we?” His words were condescending at best, paired with the gentle pinch of your cheek, but for whatever reason you seemed hardly put off, simply nodding shyly and quickly darting off to continue your next list of….errands, the deers ears swiveled in your direction till you vanished through the corridor.

——/

“Do you think they’re-?”

“Fuckin?”

“I was gonna say dating..” Charlie trailed off uncomfortably, watching tensely as Alastor almost…”playfully” whisked you around the parlor.

“They’re not.” Husks gruff voice cut through, dipped in firm belief that he was right. “That fucker has an angle no matter what, and whatever special treatment they’re receiving is just to follow through with it. That guy can’t even conceptualize caring about someone like that.”

Clearly that incident was still fresh on his mind as he mumbled quietly about how he was cut off from all booze the following week to, help clear his “shaky hands”.

The others grimaced, Vaggie especially as Charlie’s big eyes welled with fat tears. “That’s..that’s so sad!” She wailed, collapsing into her girlfriend’s arms, her reaction subtly mirrored by Sir Pentious who had slithered into the conversation.

“Wh..why are we crying??” He hissed, greated with rolled eyes from the spider and cat, and a dejected sniffle from the princess.

“Al-Alastor’s never been in love!!” She sobbed dramatically, Vaggie cooing in her ear while her hand rubbed her back soothingly.

“Oh..?” The snake perked up, a confused tilt to his head. “But aren’t Alassstor and (Y/n) …?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out! He totally dots on them don’t he Snakes??”

The engineer nodded rapidly, scales shimmering in the dim living room light.

“I told you morons, they’re not and never will-“ Husks aggravation of the topic was clear, the scrubbing of his glass a tad more aggressive.

“But…I jussst ssssssaw them kisssssing the other day…? Up on the terrace?”

…..

“Ex-fucking scuse me?”