#so clean so fresh i see you playboy

[hesterias]

HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

catching the Fontaines D.C. concert in Brooklyn, NY

(cr: puppetsspace on IG)

[shieldofiron]

Centerfold

Jonathan x Chrissy

Rated M for @st-rarepair-roulette

Jonathan was actually pretty proud of himself. You would think that shaking like a leaf from head to toe would have affected his ability to take photos, but it turned out that it wasn’t the case.

There was always a celebratory air when they finally got the centerfold. Really it was just an excuse for a party, as if they didn’t do this every month. He could hear Hef congratulating the makeup artist and kind of hitting on her. Same old same old, and it got old really fast. People thought it was exciting shooting for playboy but really it was just a job at a certain point.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

He froze halfway through putting his camera into his bag. He would recognize that lilting voice anywhere, just like he recognized the set off her shoulder, the strawberry tone of her hair. He thought about suggesting a cheerleader outfit halfway through, but he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

He turned, “Hey Chrissy. Long time.”

“I’d say no see but,” She blushed prettily, her fluffy bathrobe falling down a little as she shrugged, “I think you saw a lot of me.”

His mouth felt dry, and he made a sound halfway through a laugh and a whimper.

“You look good,” She said softly.

“So do… ah… you,” He choked.

“You talk to anyone from Hawkins?”

He’d forgotten about the rest of Hawkins. He’d forgotten his last name.

Everyone in Hawkins was a little bit in love with Chrissy Cunningham. Jonathan even remembered Nancy talking about her once upon a time, how pretty she was, how nice… he kind of wondered what Nancy would say if she knew Chrissy Cunningham was Miss December 1988 and Jonathan had seen her….

“Jonathan?”

“Ah… yeah. Sorry. Uh… what did you say?”

“I asked if you ever talk to anyone from Hawkins.”

“Not really,” He shrugged, “I mean besides my mom of course.”

“I love your mom,” Chrissy beamed, “She was always so nice.”

Jonathan looked down at his shoes, glancing around. The room had emptied out, just a few of the lighting guys cleaning up, laughing with each other.

“So when did you move out to California,” He mumbled.

“Basically as soon as I graduated,” She said. “The whole town went downhill after you left.”

He looked up, getting a little blinded by her big blue eyes.

“Why don’t we talk about it more… over dinner? I’ll wear clothes and everything,” She smiled, and the nostalgia hit him like a sucker punch. Nostalgia smelled like obsession by Calvin Klein and whatever Chrissy Cunningham magic made her always smell clean and fresh. It looked like strawberry blonde hair draped over the back of a homeroom chair and a slightly gapped tooth smile.

She couldn’t mean anything by it. I mean, she was Miss December 1988, and he was still creepy Jonathan Byers.

“And maybe after,” She shrugged, letting the bathrobe slip down on her pale creamy shoulder, “I could take them off for you in private.”

He didn’t quite have enough words in his throat to respond, but she seemed to catch his meaning enough, grinning and telling him to wait for her. He left the shoot with his hand around her waist, fingers curling into the soft fuzz of her sweater.

[lucygraysboy]

“well, isn’t that the target audience for erotic novels? people who either haven’t done it yet and are curious or bored housewives? what — what did you think i meant?” genuine confusion lances through his features, fingers needing a task to occupy themselves as anxiety continues to pile up within his system and so he begins to absently peel off the crust from his toasts. he then proceeds to munch on it, soaking it up in melted cheese while listening to lucy gray’s explanation. he’s not a dense man willing to defend his ideas until the day he dies, and so he actually ends up regretting his words. learning instead of remaining stubbornly ignorant. “i’m sorry,” he offers in a softer voice after another moment, swallowing harshly, “i didn’t even realize that it was so rude. i won’t call you that again. i thought it was more like… yo, dude and what’s up, man? kinda thing, you know? didn’t see how that was offensive.” but now he does and lowers his gaze in shame, cheeks turning pink.

“fine. if you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me. but we’d spent over a decade sharing every detail of our lives with each other. it feels strange not knowing something so important about you,” he calmly explains, shrugging his shoulders and pushing himself to finish the sandwich. two more triangular halves are still left on his plate. “then why are you acting this way, lucy gray? i haven’t given you any reason to be this irritated with me. i mean, this waitress could be the next cindy crawford and i still wouldn’t be interested in her. you’re my girl and i love you. you don’t need to be jealous or feel threatened by other women. i’ve had eyes for you and no one else since i was six. it won’t change.” he picks up a fresh napkin and cleans his greasy fingers before gently curling them around her dainty wrist, seeing how tightly she’s holding onto her fork and knowing that she must be dealing with something. he might not understand it and she might not want to explain it, but he still has to find a way to show her that he’s her person.

“can we not do this? tuck away our true feelings, i mean? if you’re jealous or upset, you need to tell me about it, and i’ll change or we’ll talk it through.” billy can see that they’re treading on thin ice, and attempts to be more mature. after all, petty remarks won’t get them far and he doesn’t want to lose her again. “i want to protect you, lucy gray. i didn’t want to show you that message or even comment on it ‘cause it’s not worth our time. if bob can take an innocent picture of two people buying plastic cups and paper plates, and turn it into something straight out of playboy, that says a lot about him. but it doesn’t affect us in any way? we’ve only got one weekend together. i don’t want to spend it fighting with that creep on instagram. i’ll deal with him when i’m back in new york and you’re not with me. i just — i want to keep stuff like this away from you because it’s disgusting and you shouldn’t have to read it. you’re my whole world, alright?” ignoring all the curse words that she’s throwing around, even if under any other circumstances they’d amuse him, he touches her cheek with caution, tenderly. just in case it’s not welcome. “i’m just trying to protect you from people like him.”

“what do you mean?” a virgin boy? it sounded like he was saying that odd line on purpose for some reason, stunning her as her brows creased in confusion. was he guilt tripping her because she wouldn't jump right into in his pants and make him a non-virgin? that's what it felt like, that's what she began to assume. if that was so, when did he start acting like such a dog again? “because it’s just rude. like when guys love to say ‘my ole lady’ or ‘my old lady’, it's the same thing as bein' disrespectful.” but now she felt annoyance bubbling up that he even had to ask why some girls don’t like being called that. she heard a lot of that hanging around billy taupe and made her jaw clench the same way it was now.

“not really.” because it wasn’t his business even if she had done things while he was off in new york. “i’m NOT p-m-s’in.” the brunette angrily spat as she turned towards him, ANOTHER rude comment that made him sound just like jesse and olinger and billy taupe. “why do men always have to think women are pmsin’ just because they’re irritated? you all are constantly throwin' fits for whatever reasons, but you have no excuse. least women have a reason.” hand clutches around her fork tighter, rubbing the handle side deeper into the table. "i was just askin' a question... you're the one takin' it that way." bringing up something that happened an hour ago, sure... that made sense. "i don't always need to get my way. i wouldn't NEED to get my way if you'd just be open about it. why not say somethin' like... oh, what olinger sent is fucked up. let me tell him to stop sendin' my girlfriend's pictures and makin' them the key topic in the motherfucker's." since she did see that part: motherfuckers. curse words flying left and right out of her mouth that she'll repent for later, she was livid and couldn't hold back when they've been here too many times before. getting angry because he just let them by time and time and TIME again, but this time was worse because of what it was reminding her of. the least she did was keep her volume low in case there was anyone elderly to respect or too young to hear such expletives, she still had respect enough for curse words to not cross anyone's ears of those ages in such a public setting. but anger clutching at her heart, that's something she couldn't tame. especially as she was still reeling over him saying she was pmsing.

[ourlastpage]

[ pierre gasly, cis man, he/him. ] ✧･ﾟ is that [ amaury chabert ] who just stumbled into town? rumour has it that they’re the [ twenty-six ] year old child of [ lumiere and fifi ] from [ beauty and the beast ]. i’ve also heard that they’re [ playful ] but [ shallow ] and have [ one ] sibling. i could almost swear i heard [ ainsi bas la vida - indila ] playing when they appeared.

amaury was born before his parents were married, being the final push for the two to tie the knot. while lumiere was very much a playboy, he didn’t see himself as being an absent father. he had lots of love to give, but he needed to shift how he gave that love and to whom. and, amaury was lucky enough to gain all the attention – often too spoiled and allowed to get away with far too much. living in the castle with his family gave him the false sense that he was a little prince as well.

unfortunately, he was expected to be a servant just like his parents – something he did not look forward to nor want in the slightest. he was better than just someone’s maid or footman. he wanted to be a prince, but didn’t have the pedigree. so, his second thought would be to make a name for himself in paris. paris had everything – you could be anyone. plus, he’d almost exhausted the people he could charm or bed in the little town nearest the castle. so, he’d packed his bags without hesitation and set out for the capital.

once he got there, he easily got settled in with the artistic crowd. he frequented the clubs almost every night, partying until the sun came up. then, he would sleep and wake in the late afternoon. he worked the later half of the day at a bakery, sketching in his off time. he didn’t have any goals for his future other than to live in the moment and enjoy himself. and, he was doing just that. he had his little group of friends that grew and shrank like the tide, and his bed was rarely empty. honestly, if he had to choose being a lonely prince of this life, the dream of being a prince was easily forgotten.

                   basics:                       full name:  amaury jean chabert                       nicknames:  am, jean (if you’re mad at him)                       gender:  cis man                       pronouns:  he / him                       sexuality:  bisexual                       age:  26                       occupation:  baker / artist                       species:  human

                   appearance:                       faceclaim:  pierre gasly                       height:  5′10’’                       eyes:  blue                       hair:  brown                       piercings:  n/a                       tattoos:  n/a                       other distinguishing features:  n/a                       style:  loose casual

                   personality:                       traits:  flirtatious, shallow, greedy, lackadaisical                       likes:  painting, sex, soft sheets, smell of fresh bread                       dislikes:  summer heat, working for a living                       fears:  not finding love                       phobias:  n/a                       hobbies:  sketching, smoking, gambling                       skills:  painting, baking, cleaning                       quirks:  n/a                       pet peeves:  n/a

                   family:                       mother:  fifi                       father:  lumiere                       siblings:  one                       birth order:  eldest                       spouse / lover:  n/a                       children:  n/a                       pets:  n/a                       notable close relatives:  n/a

[worldsover]

Fibonacci ft. Heejin

length ✦ 11530

genres ✧ direly plotless, drawn-out, dialogue-filled BFH; daddy; bunny girl costume; fingering and spanking; begging and breeding; praise and degradation; sub gf!Heejin

edited by @existslikepristin, @midnightdancingsol, and @V1n on Discord

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Bunny girl. Bunny girl. Bunny girl.

Can’t shake that image off. A free ride in your mind. What if today…

Rainwater soaks through your jacket. You sigh in relief just to be inside the apartment building.

A bigger breath of fresh air, Heejin is right at the door as soon as you open it. She was in position to run up and hug you but decides against it when she sees your waterlogged clothes.

“Hey, babe. How was work?” Heejin asks, relaxing her stance. Her shorts under her cozy sweater must be short for all her legs to be on display.

Off goes the umbrella, jacket, the shoes, the laptop bag. You take out your laptop and leave the rest on a rack or a mat to dry. “Nothing too crazy, Bun. You?”

“Was just relaxing after I had a bunch of stuff to catch up on. Some vocal exercises. Guitar practice. Tired, tired.”

You give Heejin an empathetic nod and dry your hair (you note the state of Heejin’s wavy, dirty blonde much surpasses yours now) before you lounge lengthwise on the couch and pat beside yourself, your usual offer to cuddle.

Instead, Heejin points at the counter. “Made dinner, by the way.”

“Damn, that Japanese curry looks delicious. Thank you.” You absorb into the sofa’s cushions.

“Mhm.” Heejin places a finger on her lip. “Hmm. Usually, you perk up instantly for food. Already ate?”

“Yep. You got me. Just some kimbap from the convenience store. You’re the sweetest, but you didn’t have to. Pretty sure there were leftovers too.”

“Yeah, but you work so hard, and I like doing nice things for you.” Heejin giggles while she puts away some pans in the cabinet, the food in the fridge.

“You work hard too, you know. You’re so popular now, Bun. Oh yeah. Like I said, no pressure or anything, but speaking of nice things...”

Heejin sighs, her mouth wavering between a shaky frown and a shy smile. “Here we go.”

You unbutton your dress shirt, leaving only a thin undershirt, while she hurries to clean up the last of the plates.

Though Heejin approaches you, she stops in her tracks a meter away. “Yeah, yeah. I already know what you want me to do. I thought that maybe if I made dinner and was really sweet that you would forget.”

“Aww. Bun, are you blushing?” You don’t have to ask because it would be obvious even if you turned the lights off.

“Babe, shut up! I’m not blushing! You’re blushing.”

“Seriously, you sound so cute like that, you know?”

Heejin makes fists and waves her arms like she’s about to fight the idea. “I don’t! I don’t know. I know it’s not like me to be shy about anything, and I’m not shy. I’m just… I don’t know what I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you said you wanted me to be your bunny girl, I didn’t even know what that… entailed—of course, that’s the word I... Look, obviously, it’s not about being an actual bunny. Something about the Loonaverse?”

You shake your head.

“Mm, I know you call me Bun all the time, and it’s really cute. But that’s different. Or at least, I thought so. Then I asked myself, did it have to do with anime? Yeah, probably, but I wasn’t sure. And after a bunch of thinking, I became insecure about it. Could I really be a bunny girl? A Playboy one? An Easter bunny? Well, that’s not that sexy, and that’s really what it’s about, right? Being sexy? Ahh! See? All these questions and it became this whole spiral and I’m all confused again and, and...” Exasperation in Heejin’s breath.

“If you’re having trouble—”

“No! N-not at all. In fact, I have been thinking about it. A little bit.” She emphasizes with her pointer and thumb almost pinching. “Just a little bit.”

"How about we relax for now?" Your hand gestures for Heejin to come to the couch again, and this time, she nods. Instead of cuddling into your embrace as the little spoon, she lies down facing you.

"Hi." Heejin smiles cheekily.

"Hi—"

A single soft smooch is how Heejin starts. Long lashes flutter on her beady eyes as she draws in a long breath. Knowing you'll need the air, you do too. She stays ever meek in her kisses, sometimes missing your lips for the corner of your smile, your cheek, your jaw or chin or ear. You grab her soft cheeks and hold her in place to kiss her properly. Not necessary because regardless, Heejin cannot stay away from your mouth for too long.

"Mwh." Quiet smack after quiet smack—every single peck is somehow cuter than the last: how Heejin pulls away, how she pouts and looks so needy for more like she isn't the one drawing back, how the slightest whimper escapes. “Nh, I love you so much, babe.”

Oft-repeated, yet the words pulse around the chambers of your heart much louder than they’re spoken; after all, they are your true lifeblood.

You kiss the tip of her nose.

"I love you even more, Bun," you whisper. "I could never get tired of kissing you, but... have you thought about it some more?"

"Yeah, I mean. I have. It’s weird. It’s almost like the idea of entertaining this bunny girl thing that you have turns me on and I don’t really know why. I feel weird about it. But I should've known ever since you called me Bun from day one."

"Maybe it's how we fuck like rabbits too?"

Heejin laughs at the obvious. Of course, it doesn’t need a reason, but it’s as though her outward happiness was made to warm your soul. "Right. I figured the least I could do was get a costume. Just to try it on. I wasn’t gonna tell you because I really thought making dinner and being all nice and cute would make you forget. I was gonna save it for a rainy day."

You point past the window at the continued storm.

"So I guess it’s the day. Um, I got a headband that has bunny ears on it and… a buttplug, with a little bunny tail.”

The soul is not what’s so warm right now.

“Just to try it on?” you say with a sly smile.

Cringing hands hide Heejin’s face. “Mmm!” Doesn’t hide her red ears though.

“I’m kidding.” You pat her head and stroke her hair. "We can do this another day. You don't seem too sure about this."

"I am! I promise, I swear!” Heejin puts her hands up, revealing just how red her cheeks can get. “I don’t know. I guess I’m embarrassed, I’m nervous, and I don’t know why.”

"Lemme calm you down, then." You reach under her sweater, feeling the warmth and the toned shape of her body before your hands arrive at her perky breasts.

Her respiration slows and accelerates sporadically. Your fingers tweak and pinch and roll the small tips harder, and even the simple action gets Heejin to stretch and contract and do whatever her body needs to accept the sudden pleasure. “That’s it, oh my god. You know just what to do.” Her moans are more breath than noise.

You pull away. Heejin looks confused until you grab her sides, sit up on the couch, then place her square on your lap.

“So what were you saying about the costume, Bun?” Your hands return to fondling her breasts, focusing on her nipples.

“Oh, right. So, I got the bunny outfit. Before you got home, I tried it on just to see how it felt and—that feels so good. Thank you, Daddy."

This whole thing started the moment you walked in the door and saw her, but it truly starts when she gives your bedroom name the sultriness it deserves. It rings well with her low voice, especially whispered so sincerely. Here, your head goes into sexual overdrive. Here, you become a different person entirely: less boyfriend, more the daddy she needs to pamper her.

"Fuhh… Honestly, it felt kind of natural when I put it on, which was surprising, because I never wanted to be anyone’s bunny girl. But I really, really want to please you, Daddy. So badly."

“Really now?”

The breathiness in her moans extends to her whispers. “The idea of bending to your will does something to me, Daddy. That feels so fucking good. Oh my god, you’re so good with your hands. Mmm, fuck, you know that when you play with my nipples like this… I-I can’t think straight, can’t make sound decisions. And I like it that way.”

“Maybe I should ruin all your reasoning then.” After sliding under her shorts, you feel up and down her pussy lips while your other hand pulls Heejin by the neck, close enough that breath is the only breadth between your faces. “You love when I control you, hm? Then listen to Daddy.”

Heejin nods. Sometimes, she also needs daddy to teach her a lesson too.

“You’re usually the one talking on and on while we fuck. Not that I mind, I could listen to you all day, but right now, do this for me. Keep your mouth shut while I play with your pussy. You can manage that, right?”

These next nods are desperate, mouth tightly drawn, brows creased, and chiefly, urgent in their speed. She needs this—now. Heejin squirms in your lap when your index and middle fingers run through her labia, increasing in wetness with every pass.

Your gaze pierces. Your fingers don’t. You whisper, “Quiet now. You want me to put it inside so bad, I know, I know. But if I do, you might make a noise. And then what? Then I’m going to have to punish you. Make you feel how my hands spank your ass until next week. Turn your legs into jelly.”

Two of your fingers tempt to enter her tiny hole. She has to swallow down a squeak.

“What a gorgeous face. A nice, spankable butt. Such a shame I can’t hear the prettiest voice in the world.” Threats to enter with your fingers become realized. Heejin straightens her posture. Incredible how two fingers can control her whole body. “Settle down. Just accept it, Bun. Accept it. Relax. Or don’t. As long as you’re silent. I can see you pouting. Your lips are quivering. I know you wanna make all kinds of noises for me.”

The blush on Heejin’s cheeks grows, so she nuzzles into your shoulder, and her hum grows too when your fingers plunge deeper.

“When I spank you, it won’t even be a punishment. So, I’ll tell you what. You’re allowed to say one thing. One single ‘please, daddy’.”

You don’t count her loud, quaking gasp as your fingertip drags across her satiny flesh since otherwise, you’ll be stuck here all night spanking her (not the worst prospect.) Heejin draws the air back in and pauses before she finally says, “Please, Daddy.”

It’s only fair that you pause too.

Let raindrops trickle.

“That’s it.”

Your finger-fucking rhythm is harsh and immediate, except for when you curve your fingers on the sensitive part of her walls and keep it there. Lucky for Heejin, the slick sounds around your fingers upstage her minimal moans.

“You squeeze like such a good girl around me. But I know how much you wanna cry and whine like a bad girl. Be quiet for me. Shush.”

Heejin holds you tighter as you finger-fuck her faster. Her legs squeeze together, locking your hand even though it was always going to see her climax through.

“That’s right, give me those needy eyes, those watery eyes. Poor Bun. Is Daddy putting you through too much?” you ask mockingly. “Oh no. I can feel you squeezing. You’re gonna cum, huh? Yes? You’re gonna give it to me like a good girl, aren’t you? And I know you’re gonna cry out. You can’t hold it in when you cum. Your whole body shakes, and you go, ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ isn’t that right?”

Her mouth is open, only letting wordless air out, but you know how much she needs to say yes—oh my god, yes—to let it all out. You’re in her head as much as your fingers are in her slit.

“But that'll make you a bad girl. Because you’re gonna be so loud when you cry out, and I’m gonna have to spank you. There’s nothing you can do. So cum for me and get your spanking.”

How beautiful the world that is preordained to your words. How beautiful the restraint or the attempt at restraint or the failure of restraint. The thrashing of a small body and the spindrift of pleasure’s waves, tall and falling hard. How beautiful Heejin becomes when she loses control—oh no, the sounds of slick are not enough to overcome her voice, even through stifled lips and bitten tongues. Meaningless moans collect to meaning: under sloppy conditions, the precise call for her catalyst.

“Daddy, B-Bun is cumming!”

There’s no mistaking any decibel. You stoke the fire with your lips on her neck, your fingers unabated as they curl on her soft, rough inner flesh. Never do you ease off nor allow her respite until the final throb that courses through her muscles. With her cunt this sensitive, the exit of your fingers is met with clenching resistance.

Once Heejin passes the rivers of euphoria, she looks back at you with regret at her undisciplined volume. What a lie. She may play coquettish but she’s never regretted a single orgasm, a single whimper, a single strike of your hand on her ass.

“Bun. How naughty of you.” You sharply twist her off your lap then back onto your lap, but this time, she’s bent over for the full presentation of her butt. (On some days, it’s your dessert, maybe your pillow. On all days, your raison d'être. But today? That ass is your sexual outlet, your personal plaything.) Drag her shorts down to her ankles. You line up your palm while nectar-coated fingers feel the heft of her buttcheeks—a harsh, sudden slap. First of many. Indeed, her moans sound too delighted for regret, too needy for another infliction of pain.

“Ahh, Daddy!”

“Did I say to make noise now?” Your second spank is harder because yet again, Heejin knows exactly what she's doing.

“I’m sor—”

“Learn your lesson.” No sternness in your voice can match the third smack that reverberates the living room. Wasted words, but at least the manual effort isn't a waste at all.

Another and another and the percussion becomes rhythmic so that slowly but surely, Heejin sulks and slacks further down on your lap. But though her head hangs low, you notice her giddy smile when you manage to take your eyes off her ass.

“Aww, Bun's little buns are so pretty like that, so sore and red. You’re gonna be a good girl for me now, mhm? So much need in your eyes.” Your spanks play meno mosso and the new tempo tempts you with familiar textures, glistening labia which part as her legs spread naturally. Instead of her ass, you spank her pussy, and a waterfall gushes between her limp limbs. "I can't take it anymore. I need to hear you. I need your voice to fill the room, fill the neighbors' rooms, fill the whole building. I don't fucking care."

"Yes! Daddy, yes, fuck me. It's so, ahh, so s-s-sensitive, but fuck me with your fingers and make me cum again, please! Ah!"

When you restart that forceful pace, Heejin doesn't just fill the room with groans and mewls as you predicted. She fills your nose with lewd scents, fills your legs with her dripping juices, and most of all, fills your mind with the subtlest plans.

Heejin grinds into your cunt-wrapped fingers, your other hand guiding her by the ass. Here is where simple plans become action.

“Hey! Don’t stop. Why you—why did you, why stop?”

You chuckle. “Do you really need another climax? You looked so sensitive. But no, as much as I want to see you overstimulated and babbling on my lap, I want to see the bunny costume even more.”

“Aww, really? Tonight? Now?”

You stare at Heejin.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.” Heejin gets up (wobbling, light-headed so close to her edge) and slides her shorts off. The pitter-patter of tiny footsteps disappear, but when they reappear so quickly, their echoes are only partial. You recognize where she is.

“Come out from the hallway. Now. No need to hide.” You don’t mean to sound so intimidating.

“I-I’m not hiding!”

Blood rushes down to your loins without skipping a beat between Heejin peeking from a corner to her hopping out—air must have fled from your lungs at the same rapid rate.

Everything clings to Heejin’s body and highlights her every subtle curve, her every fit muscle. The black latex bodysuit with its sweetheart neckline over her tits and its crotch boasting the outline of her pussy lips. The fishnet stockings that dig into her creamy thighs. A detachable white collar around her neck.

But for all the tightness, you focus on the two promised accessories. The bunny ears on top of her head make her look so adorable—unlike the fluffy tail plug sticking out of a hole in the bodysuit tailor-made as an anal access point. Heejin tries to play off your animalistic gaze by posing for you. A cute peace sign, an awkward smile, a shy posture.

The fire only rages harder.

"How do you feel?" you ask.

Heejin takes deep breaths. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel needy. No. More than needy. Like needy for sex, but I need, uhm, need to please you.”

“The word is submissive.”

“Well… yeah.” Heejin twirls in place, tail wiggling, snug bodysuit digging into her shapely ass. “Do I look pretty to you? Because that’s all I care about. I just wanna be your pretty girl, Daddy.”

“Of course, Bun. The prettiest in the world. Get over here.” The firmness of the bulge in your slacks is inversely proportional to the distance between you and Heejin. As she converges towards you sitting on the couch, diamonds start to fear for their place in the Mohs scale.

When Heejin is on her knees is when she defaults to her sensual hushed tones. “You know what else I want? What I really want? I wanna taste your cock. Yeah. I wanna taste your cock so bad. Can I, please? Can I, please, please take your cock in my mouth?”

Pat her hair gently. “Hmm. Only if…”

“Only if…? Only if what, Daddy?” Love and expectation fill Heejin’s eyes.

“Only if you say you’re my good bunny girl.”

Heejin pauses. It shouldn’t have surprised her considering not just the get-up but her whole demeanor. She should have realized that playful bunny attitude would lead her to this very question. But even over your pants, you feel Heejin’s hot breath and her drool as she vacillates.

Let her take her time. The anticipation is good for both of you. You can admire Heejin all day anyway, her toned arms when she places meek hands on her thighs, her tight frame outlined by slinky latex.

This downpour outside seems to pass on by, along with the sunrise and the next sunset. You can’t admit your impatience though. One more breath out, almost a gasp. Heejin puts all of her resolve into her words.

“I’m your good bunny girl.”

The resolve is in her words alone, and you smile because of it. Her smile is a weaker, more awkward simper, a colon/square-bracket emoticon. How Heejin turns a tiny, silly request into an embarrassingly erotic matter makes you want more.

“Say it again,” you command.

An unconvincing sigh. “Come on, I said it.”

This kind of whininess deserves silence as an answer.

Heejin steels herself, though she doesn’t need the same level of will to do so. “I’m your good bunny girl.”

“Again.” You’re enjoying this too much and it must show on your face by now.

“Stop making me say it!” However, her enjoyment is as audible as it is visible on her face with a smile: Heejin giggles while she rubs your firmness over your slacks. “Nngh. Please just let me have your cock, please.”

“One more.”

The frantic, flighty flits of laughter stop like a train hitting a wall. (Heejin has always thrown you for a loop in these moments, how her disposition turns so suddenly like she’s the center of the stage about to start.) No hesitation when she says, “Yes, I’m your good bunny girl! I’m your good bunny girl, your good, good bunny girl, your very, very good fuck bunny.”

“There you go.” You shift on the couch and ease your posture to push your crotch closer to Heejin's ready mouth.

“I can have it?” Heejin points and taps two fingers together.

You nod.

“Finally. Thank you, Daddy.” No cutesy lilt. Just genuine gratitude.

Yet the pull of the zipper is too slow. Trapped under your boxers, your dick juts out furiously.

“Oh, Daddy, you’re so hard.” One step at a time. Heejin unbuttons. Then she tugs your pants. This too is so slow, too slow. She doesn’t have to pull your clothes off like it’s glued to your skin, but she’s savoring the little moment herself. However, patience vanishes when she gets to your underwear as Heejin nearly tears it off your body. With that same vigor, her tongue is licking your erect shaft before it can hit her face.

You groan at the softness, the wetness. “Hnh, you’re in such a rush.”

Tongue out, puffed cheeks, mouth half-open like that, Heejin really does look like an adorable bunny, especially with her gentle panting that drips a bit of spit from the tip of her tongue to your shaft. But cuteness doesn’t exist when she’s on her knees with her back arched, showing off the bunny tail that anally plugs her.

Heejin swipes her tongue up and around your length aimlessly, giving it a nice sheen of saliva. “I just wanna make you feel good, Daddy.”

“Of course. I love your tongue, Bun, but you know how to make me feel even better.”

She nods vigorously. After one final brushstroke, the tip of her tongue lays on your cockhead’s slit. “L-like thih?”

“Almost.”

Heejin’s tongue retreats. She taps her finger on her temple. “Ohh. I know now. You want me to suck it!”

Even while servicing your cock, she can be so naturally cute.

Her lips start small. Puckered, they rest on the top of your erection in a drawn-out smooch. “Mm… mwah. So perfect. Such a perfect cock. A perfect daddy.”

As her lips part around your tip, you sink into the couch while her head sinks into your crotch. Heejin does not partake in the entirety of your length, but rations herself to simple ratios—halves, thirds—in slow, erratic plunges, head bobbing to and fro. The spirited, sloppy suction slurpifies with all that spit and the further down she swallows you, the louder it gets and the more her tongue sticks out to depress against the underside of your shaft.

And back out she goes, swirling that tongue around before she speaks again. “Do you like the way I worship your cock, Daddy? The way I savor every inch of it?”

There’s always a perfect variety to Heejin’s blowjobs. The moment you think you know what she’ll do, she releases your cock to the angelic image of saliva threads bridging your tip to her face to the exposed cleavage of her bunny suit. Though the slice of heaven you try to take in is but a single frame, it’s too dazzling anyway. Before you can answer the obvious “yes,” Heejin is already pecking and smooching and unbridled, making out with your shaft and making off with your speaking faculties.

What a robber, but you don’t mind your poverty, barely scraping by with primal groans.

"You know what you did to me, Daddy. Making me hold back just makes me want to tell you even naughtier things. Like how being your little bunny girl warms my womb. I think… no, no… I know that I want—need, need you to breed me.”

You could never escape the thoughts, having talked to her plenty of times about the difference between protected and unprotected sex. With Heejin, both are heaven-sent, but you know just how carnal she can get with the latter. This shouldn’t be anything special since you’ve already creampied Heejin many times. But those times were framed in a different environment, heats of the moment where you had taken off the condom.

Now, you’re acutely aware of every thrust of your cock.

Despite the polish of her polish, you’re acutely aware that those thrusts are not in her pussy, drowning her womb in warm, sticky seed.

Her words become softer and deeper as her slurps take over, more focused on fully throating your cock now. The upshot is that Heejin only speaks in the upward strokes between the gasps.

“And I’m ovulating, hah, right now. So, if you were to cum, ahh, inside me, hgh, you’d probably get me pregnant.”

With such explicit imagery, you have to run your hands through her hair just to stay sane. Your fingers clasp in pleasure to wrest control back—control, what a hollow pretense. Your hips roll back and forth and now, you’re fucking her mouth more impetuously. More force, more depth, enough depth for Heejin to choke on your shaft. The tight passage where air belongs, from which sweet melodies play, is clogged by vulgar flesh. Her chokehold on your tip makes the heat surge already.

“Ngh, nuh, ahk.” Heejin gags, swallows spit, gasps on the release of your cock. “Hah. No, Daddy. Don’t even waste pre-cum in my mouth. Did that idea do something to you? Do you like that idea? Knocking me up?”

“B-but, but what about—”

“What about what? I think you really like the idea. Everyone will know that you’ve claimed me for your own. Or maybe they’ll never know and they’ll always wonder who put a baby inside of her. I think that sounds better. No one should know about how well Daddy fills me up.”

Reduced to animal faculties, you can only growl, only grasp her hair tighter.

“It’s hard for me to stop licking your cock. It tastes so good. It’s perfect. But my pussy is absolutely dripping. It’s gonna feel so good to get Daddy’s perfect cock all the way inside me.”

Heejin finally slows down from an unrelenting pace of licks and sucks to casual kisses. You fear one of those kisses will be the goodbye kiss. But as one door closes, another one opens.

“So, can I ride your cock, Daddy?” A question to which Heejin knows the answer since she’s already getting up from her knees.

Therefore, you ask your own obvious question. Not only do you know the answer, but you’ve already heard it. “Are you a good bunny girl?”

“You really wanna make me say it again? I’m your good bunny girl, Daddy. I am. I’m your good fucking bunny. I’m your perfect, sweet fucking bunny.”

Your last article of clothing, your undershirt, barely survives intact when you tear it off yourself before you lie down on the couch. “You’ll say anything to get my cock, won’t you?”

“You’re right, I will say anything to get that fucking cock.” It’s not only what she says but how she says them, fully hypnotized.

A cycle of hypnosis, her voice charms you like nothing else. But sight returns like a jolt when Heejin unclasps a button that releases the crotch of her bodysuit. Your fingers, even toys have never gotten her pussy so soaked with girl cum. A soft warmth radiates from Heejin’s slit as she sways her hips and aligns herself with your cockhead.

“Let me sit down on that.” The butterflies in Heejin’s stomach seem to flap cold air so that her breath escapes as shivers.

When hands clamp on your shoulders, you know performance art is about to go down. You’re enveloped by a velvety warmth, more and more eclipsing your every nerve ending. Heejin moans, and the pitch heightens for each inch she sinks down. Unlike when she takes you into her mouth, she bothers not with teasing nor tasting a partial meal. However, even with the aid of gravity, Heejin has to strain herself downwards to work against her own tightness. You’d give her a hand, and in fact, you’d love nothing more than to have your hands on her slim waist, her pert ass. (Usually, it’s the strength of your hips that bring you all the way to her depths, fucking her doggystyle or pronebone or against the wall.) However, Heejin is focused enough that you have to give her the satisfaction of wrapping her pussy lips around the base of your shaft all by herself.

“Yes!” Heejin’s legs tense after she finally drops her butt down to your crotch, dropping your cock out of sight. Certainly not out of sensation. She relaxes and stirs her hips. The stirring becomes grinding and shuddering breaths. “Ahh, uh—hhm, you can’t imagine how much better this feels with this plug in my ass.”

You don’t have to imagine bliss yourself: you even perceive the tautness of the plug through her walls. Her grind finds a new form once the smooth swaying becomes jerky snaps of her hip. It’s only the subtle friction of her walls on your cock, but you still groan deeply because of it. Heejin starts bouncing, pussy lips stroking further up your length, and finds momentum like a ball rolling down a hill. Her left bunny ear flops while her right ear stands straight up. On some bounces, probably whenever your tip grazes a sensitive rough patch, she arches back then falls forward at the sudden swell of gratification. On other bounces, Heejin’s posture is immaculate, as if your erection is puppeteering her whole torso, better than your fingers.

Only moments ago, Heejin was hiding from you, stuttering, reticent. Now her lust, her full heat is on full display with all semblance of embarrassment supplanted by pure sexual heat. The long wavy blonde locks are in disarray, clumped with spit from the earlier blowjob, sweat making them stick on her face too until her ride gets rough enough to shake them off.

Can’t have your hands on your sides forever. First, you fix her hair, swipe strands off her face. Then you grab two pillowy asscheeks and pull Heejin down for more impact. Some skin slaps skin, but there’s also fishnet and latex in the way. All key parts of the masterstroke before you.

Sex with your girlfriend Heejin is great. However, sex with your bunny Heejin is divine.

“God, it’s like you were made to bounce on my dick,” you say, kneading her buttcheeks, “like your pussy was made to mold around it like a good little Bun.”

“No, no, Daddy, your cock is even more perfect. It just stretches me out so good. Fgh, yeah. And besides, you know all the work I put in my body. All this work’s for you, Daddy. Every workout is just so I can work your cock longer, harder.”

Her core exercises especially let her grind and roll her body against you with an incomparable rapidity, let her lean down to your face in one graceful motion without a single missed lift and drop of her ass. Heejin has no embarrassment, no hesitation, sloppily kissing you and moaning into your mouth.

“I wanna be your sweet baby bunny, I do. I know I was really shy about it. But I love surrendering to you. I love it so much that now, I wanna be your bunny girl. I really want it. And I want you to breed me. I want you to put a fucking baby in me, Daddy.”

Heejin straightens herself again with her hands on the back of her head. Either she grinds back and forth, or she hops up and down, or she twists and fucks herself into your cock—any option could be the last thing you see before you die, and you wouldn’t mind, but other designs enter your mind, blown as it is up to now.

Groan, grunt, grab her ass and slow her down. Eventually, she gets the message and raises an eyebrow.

“We should switch positions."

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to cum in you as deep as possible. Put your legs up on my shoulders.”

“I love that idea, Daddy. You know you don’t even have to warn me. Just fucking manhandle my body, whatever you want. But I guess while you’re at it… Lay me down, be gentle with me, Daddy, ahh. I’m just your sweet baby bunny.” The saccharine in her voice betrays her sweat, her skimpy outfit, her drooping tongue, her thick cream glazing your cock.

You set Heejin down on the couch with her back flat. Her ass is raised, presented like a present in anticipation of receiving your cock, and you grip her ankles to help her place her legs on your shoulders.

At this angle, plunging into Heejin has never been easier/harder. Easier, because you don't have to fight against any unnatural angles, only bend into the squat with all your weight. Harder, because the clench of Heejin's walls is so overwhelming that its struggle transfers to your dizzy head, unable to understand which direction the difficulty falls.

Not a smidgen of uncertainty that you will breed Heejin at this rate.

Overwhelming, oh, the overwhelming of your jackhammer pounding, pound-for-pound unfairly matched leverage and savagery. But contrary to the recklessness, between a lengthy moan and another, Heejin repeats a gentle incantation, as if she were meditating, as if her mind were wandering away from reality: "I’m your little cum bunny. Yes, I’m your little cum bunny. Yes, I’m your little cum bunny. Yes, I'm your…"

It emboldens you somehow further. Grip on her chest over the bodysuit and her hips and her thighs, pump your cock with more strength, use her body like the handle at the end of a tool. "Little cum bunny, cum bucket, cum hole, nrgh, little cum…"

Heejin’s hands are hectic. She tries to grab onto your shoulders for support, but you pin her wrists to the couch instead. "Yeah, I’m your cum dump, Daddy, your cum rag, fucking use me, whatever you want to do. After all, all I think about is—fffgh, how much I love your cum. How b-bad I, ah, I want your cum to fill my tight little pussy. I want it so bad."

When you're in such automatic, instinctual lust—forcibly grabbing her hair, fucking Heejin into the couch until she's just a cushion herself—everything other than Heejin is wispy fog. You're in a void of sweat (she must be even hotter in that suit), of hormones firing wildly like wildfire. Above all, you're in a chamber of echoes and reverberation. The frailty in her normally powerful voice only magnifies her allure; in that smallness, she becomes the choir encompassing all your existence.

"Did this bring something out in you, Daddy?” Up and down her voice plays in unpredictable melodic contours. “Seeing me like this, getting all dressed up for you, becoming your perfect little bunny?"

"It did." You hiss, the buildup of internal bliss racking your brain.

"Good. B-because your cock feels so good, Daddy, when you fuck me this... hard, oh god."

Heejin is a bunny caught in a hunter's snare, and her only escape is to fall further into her own rampant heat.

"I-I’m your good girl, I’m your good bunny, I am, will, will always be your good, good bunny girl."

"You've been thinking about it, haven't you?" you ask at the troughs of your rhythm. (Even your couch must know fatigue by now.) Look into her eyes. Look so hard you might find the truth in her woozy, cock-drunk mind with no reply necessary, yet every reply is given anyway.

"You’re not wrong. I have."

"That's it? Just thinking?"

"I… no. I’ve been playing with my pussy so much, thinking about how much you’d like me like this. Y-you already like me anyway, right, Daddy?”

“I love you. More than the world could ever know.”

“Daddy! I love you too.” Heejin leans up to kiss you. “But, I’m gonna change for you, only you. I wanna be your perfect bunny girl. All cool on the outside, but underneath it all, underneath you, I’m just a silly fucking bunny girl. Oh god, right, ffh, there. Right—there, oh, right…" There’s desperation on Heejin’s lips.

Or drool.

In, strike. The friction reduces with natural slick. Out, grip. Your cock is sloppily Heejin-coated. Her plushness gnaws at your mind like every word uttered, swathes your shaft, makes your brain burn all its fuel on the sole task of—

“You’re gonna get me fucking pregnant, Daddy, right? Right? Please? Please, please, pretty please? You’re gonna put little baby bunnies in me, gonna make me a mommy, gonna make me your sweet Mommy bunny.”

Already, you throb. You, as in your whole body, every muscle. You, as in your shaft. You, as in your fraying fibers of restraint—those throbs will snap the last thread. Even though you know her walls get gluey/viscous with her cream, and you know pounding this rough into her makes Heejin’s pussy clamp down on your cock, you know more surely that you’re already sending warm pre-cum straight to her womb.

There’s a fire in the house of your body.

You can only put it out by fucking Heejin harder, enough for her tits to fall out of the tight bodysuit and her bunny ears to fall off her head. After fixing the headband (the bodysuit can stay tousled), your once-stalled pace finds a passion anew.

“You can fuck me while I’m pregnant the whole time. I bet you’d love that. How big my tits would get... I’d be your pregnant bunny girl, who’d get on her knees every fucking day and suck your cock. God, I love sucking your cock. And you know I love tasting your cum. But right now, I want it, deserve it, deep in my needy little pink pussy.”

“Thirsty slut bunny. How am I supposed to control a bunny in heat like you?” Though they’re not as big as the future she presents, her breasts spilling out of the bodysuit still present an opportunity: they have enough mass for you to spank. You make them equally red and tender. Left, smack. Right, smack. Over and over and over for every bounce up your cock and for every slide down.

“Awhff, fuck, yes, Daddy, I fucking love being your bunny girl fucktoy. Treat me like your fuckdoll. I want you to breed me. I want you to put all your cum inside me.”

Undeterred by your continued slaps of her tits, a devilish smirk grows on Heejin.

“I waited until tonight because I knew you weren’t going to forget. Of course, I knew, Daddy. I, nh, know what you think about. I know your needs. I know exactly what makes you tick. I wanna be perfect for you. Anh, I want to be your perfect. Little. Fucking. Cum bunny that milks your cock so I can milk your cock even more every day when I get all pregnant after you breed me and, annuhh, I need and I deserve it because I’m always going to fuck your dick so well because I’m a good girl.”

You can never get over the pure filth contrasting the adorable glance of her eyes contrasting the deep tone of Heejin’s speech, deepened further by the languor and the constant moaning. Her words guide your every action: as Heejin speeds up vocally, so do you physically, and as she raises in pitch, so too do you raise in intensity. You’re not fucking your bunny anymore; you’re mating with her.

“I'm your good girl, your good bunny, and your good bunny’s gonna fucking cum. Yeah, Daddy, hold me closer. I can feel you massaging my womb. Fucking cum, gonna fucking cum. Fuck!”

“That’s it, cum, cum for Daddy,” you say before you lean in for a thorough kiss. You ensure that you keep hitting those same doughy, delicate spots with every shove, familiar with them like the back of your hand (though more literally, the tip of your finger or your cock).

How can Heejin be more angelic? The beauty of the consequences of your actions. You’ve made her squirt plenty of times—with toys, with your mouth, with your fingers—and you’ve even fucked the girl cum out of her onto your cock with the aid of vibrators. Not only do you love the mess, but you love how Heejin clenches absurdly tight. This time is different. This time, Heejin sprays from the force and stimulation of your shaft’s thrusts alone. All over and around your cock, she cums a cascade of clear fluid. Her whole adorable face tightens and creases, except for her mouth which widens when you let go of your kiss.

“Ahh, so, so much, ah, cu-cum-cumming, ahh, ahh—” On and on the groan goes, Heejin’s tongue poking out between her lips.

On and on the sprinkle goes. The couch, stained. Legs and crotches, stained. Squirt even drips down to her buttplug, saturating her fluffy tail enough for the fur to lose its shape. You catch a glimpse of muscles clutching around the toy. As your squirt-covered shaft splits her tender pussy, Heejin squirms at the heightened sensitivity.

“Can I keep fucking you?”

“Ye—yeah, yes, yes, please, I'll take it for you. I want you to… fugh, fucking cum in—inside m-mmee. Ah'll… ah, I’ll p-prolly cuuhm again, to, tsss, to be honest. Just, sex toy, bunny, me.” Broken words make Heejin sound uncertain, not out of embarrassment, but out of a physical weakness derived from orgasm.

Your cock is buried hilt deep, and you’re content leaving it there. “Are you sure?”

“It feels so—gh—s-sensitive but so, so perfect too, so yes, please, Daddy.”

However, you’re more than content to swing the pendulum once again, especially since clouds appear. That darkened sky inside you like the rain outside is dulling your fire, but it rages on regardless. When the cloudburst rapture drowns you, you will erupt. Not a matter of “if.” A matter of “when.”

As you pound and deplete more of your energy, Heejin eventually regains her coherence, or at the very least, she has more than you. You’re just a set of arms pinning Heejin down, a set of legs to propel your mating press, a solid erection, ready to explode and provide the desperate bunny girl with semen at any time.

Heejin holds the back of your neck, and though she’s clearly sore from her climax, she even lifts her ass to fuck herself into you and add more exertion to your hammering. The small motions must take so much strength, all those crunches and planks ending up as reciprocal motion as she grinds into you.

Your voice chokes and dies, and you puff and pant and gasp at the ongoing exercise. (You’ve done your best to keep up with Heejin, but that’s a tall order.) Even in her most depraved state, drenched in sweat and her own cum, her eyes clouded with lust, she manages to find syllables. First, it’s just profanity, cries for “Daddy,” but then the enchanting dirty talk restarts.

“Yeah, you like the idea of me being your secret fucking bunny slut. I’m such a prim and proper idol, a star on the stage, but when I come home, I’ll put on my bunny outfit and you can do whatever you want to me. Daddy, I'll be grateful for every minute your cock stuffs my tiny bunny pussy.”

Raindrops splatter against your window. Pitter, patter. Small footsteps.

“That’s it, Daddy. Pump your little baby bunny full of cum. Fill my fucking pussy with that cum. I’m gonna be such a good girl for you. I’m gonna get pregnant. Breed me, breed me, breed your bunny.” Heejin pulls your neck for another kiss. Yearning, suddenness, all of time passing, like the world’s over, like this embrace—both her arms on your back and your conjoined lips—is the last.

“Close. Gonna cum.”

“I know. I know you are because I’m your perfect slut. Do it. Dump your cum in my body. No, Daddy, it’s your body. Yours to use and play with and fuck as hard as you want. Fuck me as hard as you want, fuck your cum into me. I can take it for you.”

Truthfully, your motions are minuscule in comparison to Heejin under you. The strength you send into her pussy with every buck of your hips is multiplied tenfold when she raises her ass. Her flaunted core strength doesn’t surprise you, but it doesn’t require a surprise for your apotheosis to manifest.

Nothing new under the sun, the moon, the rain—or so you believe. This is the center. The first hurricane whose eye is the downpour. Something should be wrong, but nothing is wrong. You understand exactly why this happens.

Fall into place. Everything does. Fall into place. Pieces of the puzzle, and that same satisfaction when you get closer to completion. A radiating consummation. But you’re not just a single piece. You’re the solver, and Heejin is the cipher. When she donned the bunny girl outfit, she helped realize a big part of the big picture. A near-complete sacrifice of your stamina, of your will. You may think you know what the end looks like, but each thrust reveals more of Heejin's design.

She was always a perfect artist in every respect.

Fall into place.

The final piece of you.

“I’m done. Take it, Bun.”

“That’s it, Daddy. Give it to me. I can feel your cock twitching inside me.”

Drops of cum splatter against her womb when the drops become a new ocean’s worth of viscous spray. Heejin siphons your load out of your twitching cock with pleasure, the biggest smile on her face. Through the intense, limb-seizing, black-out climax, you’re frozen in your squat above her so Heejin has to keep bouncing her ass up against you to melt you into action. Understanding how she felt just moments ago in her orgasm, you persevere and slam your spurting dick inside of her pussy.

“That’s so much cum. God, you’re still going. I already feel like I’ve been filled for the whole month with your load. But you know that’s nothing compared to a baby in my tummy.”

Throughout the rough treatment, Heejin is not idle. One hand fondles your warm, pulsating sack in appreciation while the other holds your waist to make sure you’re cumming as deep as possible. Despite slower and less intense throbs, your erection remains at its completeness. Heejin slides up from your balls to between her legs. Even though her cunt lips are clamping against the root of your cock, she tries her best to save any cum leaking out. How diligent of her.

After having been in the same position for so long, you relax your tense, burning muscles and release everything you’ve been holding onto. The couch, Heejin’s tits, your own legs. However, when you try to fall back, Heejin keeps her legs locked, her soaked pussy unyielding as it cocoons your dick.

You groan painfully.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She relaxes, but you dig your fingers into her legs between holes of the fishnet stocking to stop her and shake your head.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. You need to be bred. Just stay like that. Let’s just relax.”

Only now, you notice that her bunny ears must have fallen off sometime during the frenzied sex, so you point out the headband on the floor. Heejin releases her leglock, though her pussy is still clamping and warming the tip of your dick. After she contorts her body to pick the bunny ears up without releasing her cock-hold, she puts it back on and fixes her fallen neckline too. (Her tits tempt you latex-covered as much as they do bare.)

It’s a slow tangle of bodies, but you eventually lie down on the couch first. Heejin rests her head on the opposite side of the couch and lazily sheathes herself straight to the bottom of your shaft. With her position, Heejin’s feet rest on your chest, so you massage each sole and kiss each toe.

“Fucking—even that’s making me want to fuck you again right now. I need more, Daddy.”

“Bun, I’m sorry. You have to understand how tired I am.”

“Okay, we’ll just rest for now. But if you’re up for it, if you think you could, um, cum in me one more time tonight. I know I’m a greedy bunny but I really want you to breed me and having two loads of cum will only increase our odds.”

You’re already hard. Look at Heejin; she’s completely debauched. But you need a breath. “Suck my cock first.”

“Ooh. Yes, Daddy. I definitely do not mind sucking your cock. Not only do I not mind… I’m dying to taste your cum. Don’t get me wrong, I wanna keep it in my pussy, but whatever’s left on your cock, I wanna lick it off, taste you, clean you.”

Her hips whirl and roil, reminding you of your soreness at such an intense orgasm. However, you cannot deny the brain-melting titillation from the slightest shifts. “Just be careful now, Bun.”

With maximal caution in her motion, Heejin’s gyrating becomes a slow yet loud unsheathing of your cock. A wet, almost slurpy noise when your shaft flops out, and she immediately grabs it, collects the cream on it. “Daddy, who do you think I am? But you’re right.”

You stand up from the sofa as Heejin shifts and stretches, putting her legs up on the sofa’s back. She hangs her head off the side. A deep view of her sweaty cleavage. “Clever bunny slut. Can’t have any of that hot cum dripping out of you, hm?”

“Nn, nn, not a single fucking drop.” Heejin wets her lips while you align yourself towards her mouth. Her thighs cross tightly. If she weren’t nursing an aquifer’s volume of semen, she’d be leaking her own juices and making the couch sodden with her scent.

Don’t push yet. With a hand on your erection, you tease Heejin, tap her cheek and forehead. Her eyes follow her prize, and she has to pull up her head to try to kiss and lick you. As you take more of your sweet time, Heejin gets hungrier. She reaches for your waist to pull you in, though you swat away her hands.

“Give me your cock, Daddy,” Heejin says, heavily panting. The cuteness in her voice only makes her tantalizing words even more electric. “I mean, please, Daddy, will you give me your cock? I could be whatever bunny you want. I could be your sexy, Playboy pornstar bunny. Or I could be your sweet, gentle baby bunny. Or I could even be your pet.”

Having been blocked from holding you and fucking her own face, she yanks off the detachable white collar and replaces it with her own hands.

“If you really wanted, you could put a leash and collar on me. Tighten it around my pretty neck like this. Put the word ‘Daddy’s Cum Bunny’ on it. Take me for walks like this. Tail in my ass, bunny ears... Just walk me down the street. Show everybody who I belong to, what a slutty bunny I am, whatever you want. Yeah, Daddy, I’m ready for you. I’m needy for you. I need to feel your cock in my throat. I need—”

You give Heejin what she needs. One thrust, she’s already choking from your dick’s tip, massaging your shaft with her throat, through her throat with her hands. Her lips split and nurture on your width, but then you beat a hasty retreat, and her lips pucker up again. Pining after your next insertion, those lips smear along your length when you miss your mark. Thick slobbered spit spreads on her left cheek, then her right. A shine to the blush.

“Mhm, mm, mrgh!” Soon enough, you insert again and extract. At your prompt facefucking tempo, Heejin’s breasts trapped under the bodysuit threaten to spill out once again. The struggle and the lack of oxygen intoxicate Heejin enough that she giggles, though they come out as gurgles instead. She sticks her tongue out, and upside down, it squishes on the topside of your length. There’s so much spit that it sloshes in her mouth before she swallows it down. Drool, mascara, and tears all run down her face the wrong way. Dirty blonde describes her hair more accurately by the second.

You’re a piston, an unstoppable machine, yet you manage to pull Heejin’s hands off her neck.

Only to replace them with your own.

What a woeful hum vibrating your cock. How she yearns for the sensation of the bulge in her throat expanding and contracting. Therefore, you take one of her warm yet shivery hands and interlock fingers, then return her hand back to her neck so you can choke and stroke together.

Despite all the dirty talk and the sexy bunny costume and the breeding, you’ve never experienced anything lewder yet more intimate than holding Heejin’s hands through the brutal upside-down throatfucking distension.

More slurping, more whimpering, more twisting of her tongue. You shove faster, chasing something you shouldn’t be chasing yet. Doesn’t matter how warm and slick her throat is. Your cum belongs in one place.

Heejin reminds you with a single squeeze of your hand, so you uproot yourself. “Daddy… You…”

“I know, I know, Bun. In your womb.”

“Thank you.” The sweetness in her lurid, deep voice makes every word of gratitude come off more genuine. A lilt, a bit of lingering on the last word. “Oh, and I can’t forget these balls. I absolutely need to adore them. They give me all the seed my womb fucking aches for. So full and fun to play with in my mouth.”

While gripping your slippery length with her little hand, Heejin pops each testicle in and out of her mouth. Left and right and left again. Then she takes both of them, slathers them with her tongue, and nuzzles them between tender lips.

“Thank you for the left one. Thank you for the right one. And thank you for every drop of cum they make. Fuck, Daddy, they’re already pulsing. I had a feeling that fucking my mouth would remind you how much you love giving me your cum. Even if it is twice in a row.”

You stand motionless while Heejin gingerly sits up, her fishnet-wrapped thighs still squished together.

After Heejin puts her collar back on, she sucks on her index finger. “And now I really want you to fuck this cum deeper into me. Will you do that?”

Your head nods. Not you, your head, since your approval is a foregone conclusion, no need for conscious input.

“Oh, thank you, Daddy. You think that I look sexy like this?”

Her dim, dizzy eyes cross. Her tongue sticks out. Heejin unfastens the buttons of her bodysuit so that it unfurls, most of the latex bunching up around her midriff. All the sweat that’s built up only makes you want to take in more of her scent, her glistening milky skin. The same thing happens whenever you join her in the gym. Your eyes wander and stare and in aimless wandering, they resolve to focus and rigor in glorifying her sleek yet sinewy curves. The ridges and smooth lines of her fit physique rouse your brain, and you especially take in her biceps as they flex. Sure, Heejin is below you, literally and sexually, but you have no doubt she could reach up and choke you with no effort whatsoever. (You’d thank her for that too, getting to watch her buff muscles anyway.)

Therefore, your head nods again: she’s more than sexy—she’s flawless. You get in position. One hand on her shoulder, one on the couch.

Heejin spreads her legs, her fluffy tail attached to her asshole dangling off the couch. “Don’t worry. See? None of your precious seed is coming out.”

“I said be careful.” A tiny streak falls down her thighs. “Do you want spanks again? Can you imagine how much cum’s gonna spill every time I hit your ass?”

“No!” At once, Heejin finger-fucks the meager drops of semen back inside of her.

“Silly bunny. Don’t you worry about that.”

Heejin gazes at you expectantly.

You tug her hands away from her crotch and part her labia, thick with cream.

Her gaze turns pitiful with more of your seed seeping out. But before Heejin can close her legs again, you direct your cock underneath where the cum trail ends (right until her buttplug tail). You graze your tip up toward her tiny hole, wiping up the messy trickle and pushing it back inside of Heejin. When your shaft immerses with her slick, you feel Heejin still clamping.

“Relax. Or don’t. I’m unloading inside you either way.”

“Yeah. Good, yeah, hn, yeah, yeah.” The reiterated words turn whinier as you galvanize your rhythm. “That's it, push that cum deeper into me, push that cum into your little fucking bunny, push it deeper inside me, all the way in. I want you to get every drop of cum as deep inside of me as you can.”

Her ankles become your handlebars as her legs form an acute angle for you to bisect. In this position, you feel every texture of her cunt, the tail plug dilating her ass, and all the cum inside of her. It’s less viscous than usual (for example, when you paint her face and slather it around), and you know it’s from her own natural juices making her walls absolutely sodden.

“Ahhh, you're gonna get me fu-uh-ucking pregnant. You’re gonna make fuu, fwgh, bluh, ghmnn...”

Though your climax is the apex of pleasure, this is your apex of effort. Speed and primal power in your pumps pry the words out of Heejin’s mouth. You grab the back of her head, lean down while pulling her in, then kiss her neck.

Heejin grips your back enough for you to feel it in your spine—bone-chilling bliss in her fingers’ pressure. Every soft, hot breath tickles your ear.

“Give me hickies. I don't care if my manager sees them, I don’t care if Orbits see them, I don't care. I want them to know who owns me. You own me, Daddy. You own this pussy, ass, mouth, this whole body. My whole fucking bunny body is for your pleasure. Everything is for you.”

Your groaning amplifies with each nail carving a faint path on your back. You pinch her firm nipples in return, cup handfuls of her boobs, then flatten your hand to harsh strikes. An endless sprawl of pleasure courses throughout your nerves while Heejin’s limbs sprawl on the couch; legs and arms become limper with each hit on her chest re-reddening the now-pink handprints from earlier. After some wild kneading of her tits, you slide down her midriff, past the curled bodysuit, plucking the threads of her fishnet stockings which dig into her thighs before you reach her ankles to hold her weak legs apart.

“Ggh, fucking—hss, just like that, Daddy. Treat me so rough. All that while you’re pummeling me so deep, your big Daddy cock stretching me out. Keep fucking that cum into me. If I wasn't gonna get pregnant before, I'm definitely gonna be now. And I'm gonna be your little pregnant bunny slut. Your pregnant bunny whore. Because that’s the only thing I'm good for, only good for making your babies, ahh!”

Abject lies. While you’re more often dominant than not with Heejin, you’ve never gone this far, but you have not a quarter of a mind to rebut, nor the will to do so. To be even more truthful with yourself, the abasement makes your shaft quiver inside her or maybe it doesn’t or maybe your awareness is so far gone that which is which does not matter.

“Yeah? You like hearing me say that? That's all I'm good for, Daddy. All I'm good for is taking your cum and making babies. That's my best skill. Doesn't matter that I trained for so long. Doesn't matter that I'm an idol. The most important thing I can do is fucking get pregnant for you.”

What was once a more deliberate sex position, holding Heejin’s legs apart, has become your whole weight laying on top of her body, every muscle inside you screaming as you lift yourself back up. She isn’t even a bunny anymore but instead, the means to your end.

Insert. Extract. One such cycle is either the speed of sound or the speed of one pirouette on Earth’s leaden foot. That range is the extent of the unreliability of your internal chronometry—yet again, the outcome is all the same.

“I'm gonna cum again, D-daddy.”

“Me too, ggh,” you moan out.

“Really? You too, Daddy?”

“Mhm.”

"Even better. B-because my pussy, hah, is gonna contract, and, and your seed'll go deep, deeper. Oh god, so deep, so, so—I’m gonna fucking cum! Oh fuck, gimme all that cuumm.” The last syllable drawn out by Heejin’s deep voice rings so heavily that it clambers about in your skull.

Inner muscles tremble around your cock, and glassy juices splash and drizzle once more.

This drizzle would always burgeon into a mythical deluge.

Two ends converge into one, inevitable as the whole night has been one long act of convergence. Heejin and you breathed life into your mutual fantasies, so the foregone conclusion is breathing life more literally. However, life starts as messily, as recklessly as it continues all through to the grave. One atom of excitement jostles another, becomes four, and exponential growth explodes a cooking pot.

No more pushes and shoves. Your weight alone in a single slide inwards knocks your tip against the depths of her pussy, her cunt’s lips strangling the base of your length. How wet and sticky the chain reaction of pulses. Kissing each other like you’re stealing your respective souls back and forth does nothing to unravel the chaotic system—only unravels the two of you further.

Ba-bum. Ba-bum. You and Heejin hear your hearts in the very palpitations of your bodies, each one sending a splash of her clear juices on your cock, then a shot of semen into her walls to work its way through the last batch. Both of you are rendered immobile (except for tongues and lips twisting) because of the warmth of the lewd concoction, because of the rolling, twitching muscles doing all the work of extracting your cum straight from the source. How lucky, an express path to her womb.

You hum and drool into each other’s mouths, sharing everything and leaving nothing for the world to steal. All arms wrap tightly. This is a greedy embrace, but when so much pleasure is produced, when mutual climaxes last so long, you and Heejin have to be certain there is no waste. Pump and pump and Heejin accepts and accepts.

This should be the rest of your life.

This isn’t.

The first one to pull lips away with a gasp (strands of spit still connected, sure as sunrise), Heejin says dreamily, “Oh my god.”

Long sighs. Deep sighs. It takes the night to pass, or it takes the moon to wax and wane before you carefully unsheathe yourself to finally give your aching body a true break. Posthaste, her legs clasp together once again. “Relax, Bun. Scoot on over, be my little bunny spoon.”

On the couch, you slot in behind her as she lies on her side. Your softening dick stays warm between her asscheeks, her fluffy tail tickling it.

Heejin turns her head upwards to face you, but feeling the strain on her neck, she stops.

“Aghh," Heejin groans. "I can’t feel my legs or my face or… no, I can definitely feel the cum, mmm. But still, you absolutely wrecked my pussy. Everything's so sore.”

You give her a kiss on the cheek. “Same here, Bun.”

Heejin shifts and nestles into the perfect space your body makes for hers, especially her buns hotdogging your raw meat.

“Daddy, you are absolutely incredible. You’re so fucking sexy. No one ever has or ever will fuck me like you can. And nobody can turn me into a brainless, breeding bunny slut like you can. I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Bun, but—ah, ah, if you keep talking like that, oh, and grinding like that too, we’re gonna end up fucking on the floor.”

“So what—”

“And then sleeping on it when neither of us can get up.”

“Th-that’s fair. I just wanted to say that I hope you feel special.”

Your arms swaddle Heejin tighter. “I do, baby Bun. But we have all weekend.”

She takes one of your hands and kisses it. “Right. Thank you, Daddy.”

As your hands massage her shoulders then reach lower down, you realize something: “You’re gonna sleep with the outfit on?”

“Well, I have to if I’m gonna give you morning head as a bunny girl—oh, right.” Heejin fastens the crotch of her bodysuit first before fixing the rest of the buttons. “Now none of it’s gonna leak out. Ha. It's so sticky and warm and… angh, makes me feel so full.”

“I have an even better idea. While you sleep, I’m gonna slowly pull the tail out and make use of that hole in the bodysuit. And you’re gonna wake up and have the dream you were already having in real life and feel all the cum in your womb swish around while I stretch your asshole. Do you like the sound of that?”

"Do, uh..." Heejin trails off into a yawn, then smiles. "Do I like it? No..." She yawns again at the worst moment. "No. I love it!"

You don't believe it’s a mere coincidence that the rain outside clears up.

“This is why you’re my good little bunny girl," you say as you caress her sweaty hair, "the best bunny of all the bunnies in the world. No one else is so perfect for Daddy.”

She’s already fast asleep.

You carry Heejin to the bedroom and wipe her down with a spare towel. No response as you flip her around. Finally, you kiss her on the forehead. “Good night, Bun.”

Moments before your own slumber, you hear Heejin whisper vacuously, “I am. I am. Your, mmf, good bunny girl. Your good bunny girl. Your good bunny…”

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Hey, look, I'm even crossposting again. Thanks to everyone for all the feedback.

[sukirichi]

reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai​ who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore​ for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one  ✘  two  ✘  three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.��

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs.  “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

[milazka]

not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose. 

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her. 

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare. 

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins. 

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched. 

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget. 

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance. 

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious. 

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash. 

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt. 

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?” 

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm. 

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?” 

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well. 

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?” 

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.” 

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,” 

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine. 

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties. 

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds.  She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him. 

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him. 

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl. 

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?” 

“Uh no, should I have?” 

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?” 

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question. 

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye  before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.  

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

─── ° • ❀ ───

taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

[noonastooneshots]

Plastic or Park Jimin?

~1383 words~

Jesus CHRIST. If that man flashed those Calvin Klein's at you ONE MORE TIME.... You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm those raging hormones. And, of course your panties were soaking wet. OF COURSE THEY WERE. This Fuck Boi named Park Jimin was really testing you lately.    

You just wanted to do your job. That's all. Just earn a living working behind the scenes with BTS. You had absolutely no interest in being in the spotlight yourself, but found the ins and outs of what makes the whole thing work fascinating.  

You loved your job! Most of the people you worked with were fun and professional. You'd learned so much!      

But. Over the last couple of weeks, you’d apparently caught the eye of Bangtan's most notorious playboy.  Jimin had started with winks, innocent touches, and sweet flirty words. As the weeks went by though, he'd been upping his game. Knowing exactly where you were stationed off stage, he would make sure to bring his tongue, body rolls, thrusts and ab reveals in your direction.        

So. Annoying.

Almost as annoying as your soaking wet panties. Stupid Abs. Stupid Tongue. Stupid.... SHIT! You almost missed your cue as you were brooding over your body's reactions.       Sighing, you refocused and got your job done.      

After the show, you finish up and head home. In desperate need of a cold shower and a session with your trusty vibrator. And maybe some ice cream...      

Fresh and clean from your shower, you felt refreshed. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you grabbed a glass of wine and headed back to your room, intent on some relaxation and self "care".

You laid naked on your bed watching the replay of the night's broadcast on your iPad, fingers caressing and pinching your nipples... fuuuck. What would Jimin do? Would he want to rub and pinch them with his fingers? Would he rather use those perfect lips to suck on the hard tips? Use his teeth to pull on them??

You groaned out loud.

Grabbing your favorite vibrating toy, you turned it on low, slowly rubbing it up and down your slit. Never pushing inside, wanting to tease yourself a little bit first. Eyes open, you watched Jimin perform. The others are on the stage, too, of course. But you only had eyes for Him. Your breathing was getting heavier and your nipples were so sensitive, the air from the ceiling fan felt erotic.

A heavy knock on your door jolted you up. Who the hell would be here at this time of night?!? Thinking it was your neighbor lady who was older and drank quite a bit, you jumped up, vibrator and iPad forgotten as you found an oversized T-shirt you liked to sleep in, and ran to the door.

Looking through the peephole, you saw the devil himself waving at you. Park Fucking Jimin. What the fuck was HE doing here?!?

"Are you going to open the door? I can see your shadow. I brought snacks!" he said holding up a bag of take-out for you to see. Big. Sigh. You opened the door and looked at him quizzically. He flashed his best, innocent smile and pushed past you,

"You worked so hard today. You deserve a treat! I brought Noodles and lots of meat." Closing the door, you locked it out of habit. Following Jimin into the living area, you watched him put the food down, straighten up... and look at you with a strange look on his face.

In that moment of silence, you heard music from your iPad.... and the unmistakable sound of vibration coming from your bedroom. Before you could react, Jimin turned and ran toward the sound.

You were hot on his heels, yelling,

"PARK JIMIN! THIS IS NOT YOUR DORM!! YOU have no right....." your words died as he leaned down and picked up your favorite toy. He glanced over to the iPad, smirking. Then, he moved to you.

"Did I interrupt something?" He asked. Deciding to Woman Up, you stood firm and said,

"As a matter of fact, yes."

You tried to grab your vibrator, which was still buzzing in his hand, but he moved quickly behind you. He wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you back to the other side of the bed so you could see the screen showing the replay of that day's concert.

"Jimin, what the fuck do you think..." again your words died in your mouth as he brought the vibrating toy up to circle your still sensitive nipple. You gasped and then moaned at the sensation.

"What were you thinking about, hmmm? Were you watching me perform? Remembering how I was thrusting just for you?"

Your breathing skyrocketed. You knew you were busted, and weren’t able to answer. "Do you do this often?" He asked, moving the toy over to rub the other nipple. "Do you use this piece of plastic to make yourself cum? Does it make you feel good?" His other hand left your waist, slid down your torso, lifted your t-shirt and found its way between your legs. Running his middle and index fingers down through your slit and back up to rub slow circles around your clit. "Answer me. Do you do this often?"

Swallowing hard, you answered with a breathy "Yes."

Jimin nipped your neck.

"What do you think of? Is it me? Are you touching yourself thinking about me?"

Again, all you could muster is a breathy "Yes".

God, it all felt so good. The stimulation on your nipples, his fingers around your clit, his teeth at your neck. You were getting close.

Suddenly, everything stopped. He let go of you. You whimpered. God! You’d been SO CLOSE!! You squealed when Jimin grabbed you and spun you around to face him. The look on his face was animalistic. He was hungry, and you were what he wanted. His free hand slid up your chest and wrapped around your neck. Not hard, but enough to get your attention.

"You're telling me, that I've been killing myself trying to get your attention for months, and you just been coming home to use this poor excuse for a cock?"

All you could do was look at him. Your body was screaming to be touched. And, for fuck sake, apparently you like to be choked? Who knew?

When you didn’t answer, Jimin reached down, grabbed the hem of your shirt, tore it from your body, and pushed you down onto the bed. The iPad fell to the floor, and the vibrator went... somewhere. You weren't quite sure.

Your full attention was on the man stripping naked in front of you. THE Park Jimin. With THE Park Jimin abs, and THE Park Jimin Cock-OHMYGOD!!! He gave you no time. He was on top of you,

"I am going to show you once and for all that the real thing is far better than that vibrating piece of shit."

Your legs spread wide, your tits moving rapidly with your breaths. He found you fucking beautiful. Jimin reached down and kissed you, at the same time sliding his cock to the hilt on the first thrust.

"Fucking hell, you're so wet!"

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed home. In the back of your mind, you were hoping your old neighbor hit the bourbon heavily today and was fully passed out, because the sounds coming from you could not be stopped. You were moaning, almost screaming.

"Fuck" and "Jimin" were the only intelligible words coming from you. The feeling. Oh god. You’d NEVER felt anything like it. Your pussy was glorying in this pounding. Like this was the moment it had been made for. Your skin was so sensitive, every stroke of his hand. Every nip of his lips and teeth. Every smack on your ass. All came together to create an explosion inside your body that you never thought possible.

Your pussy clamped down hard on his pounding cock, eyes shut tight, hands holding his ass hard... your whole body spasmed. Every muscle contracted over and over again as you came. You heard Jimin call your name and growl as his hips continued to flex, trying to get as deep inside of you as he could as he came.

Finally collapsing on top of you, covering your face and lips in kisses. "There," he panted, "Let's see that piece of plastic do THAT".

One Shot Master List

[akaashisupremacy]

Yours Truly

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you and Gojo try to pick up the pieces, he wonders if you can still give him a second chance. Will you? 

Notes: Broke my heart in half to write this fic for Gojo ✌️😩

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: ANGST AND PINING, exes to friends to ??, commitment issues lol, some fluff if you wink (wc: 1.1k) 

“What are you doing here?” you exclaim in the dark, stumbling back at the shadow that looms in front of you.

You’ve bumped into Gojo Satoru in the kitchen commons. He’s fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping. His presence is definitely visible because it’s past midnight and all you can hear up to this point are the crickets.

“What are you doing here?” he looks accusingly at you with his eyes wide, “I live and work here!”

He has one hand on his hip and another on a mug of coffee. His reply irks you. He supposedly asked you out on a date tonight and he cancelled last minute for what you thought was a job that was just taking longer than expected again. Was he home all this time?

You were wary of Gojo when he asked you out recently. Not only was he your ex-fiancee, he also has a playboy reputation.

“I’m here to make myself dinner after a long day of working on the school barriers.” you sniff, “And I’m also here to ask why you couldn't  meet up with me. Again.”

You glare. He shifts uncomfortably on the doorway.

“Can you make up your mind about me? I know you want to fix things, but if you’re going to keep cancelling, might as well stop. We don’t have to date or hang out.” you scowl.

He pulls out a chair for you to sit down. “Let me make things up to you. I’ll make dinner for the both of us. I haven’t eaten either. Just got home.”

“Oh,” you remark. Ok, maybe he hasn’t been home all this time.

You quietly sit as he prepares a quick dinner for the both of you. He’s never cooked for you before. It was always you who did the cooking, granted you were arranged to be married when you were kids and you stopped talking as teenagers. It’s complicated.

You watch him put pots on the stove and chop vegetables up on your old school kitchen counter. It’s too quiet, too late, too dark in here. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” you murmur.

He shakes his head.

“Your instincts aren’t wrong. Part of me wishes that us trying to date would end badly to prove that I was right all along, that there was no way this could work. But part of me wants to be wrong for once. I think you would like to grow old with me and all that stuff.” he admits, throwing vegetables into a pan without looking at you.

“This isn’t going to work if you’re just doing this for me.” you reply.

The sizzling of the vegetables almost covers up his next words, “It’s just difficult for me to admit that I have feelings for you, ok?”

“You’re endlessly kind to me and I’m the type to take advantage of kindness. I don’t want to drain you.”

You scoff, “I’m not 15 anymore. I have more boundaries. Give me some credit. You overestimate my compassion.”

As he continues to cook, his bandages start coming loose. His usual black cover for his eyes is gone. It must be laundry day. You stand to tie them for him. Your fingers are nimble, deftly untying the sloppy knots he put up in a rush and retying them firmly.

“You still remember.” he notes with surprise.

“You taught me. How could I forget?” you remark softly, returning to your seat and crossing your arms.

While he plates the food, he asks another question. The kitchen is barely lit. A single light bulb above the table is all the light there is. His shadow follows him as he moves.

“How could you still treat me like this?” he finally sits across you, words peeling with intense sentiment.

“Like what?” you ask curiously.

“Like I’m worth a second chance.”

You smile drily, trying to hide the pain beneath your eyes. You too wonder if he's worth another shot. Although your head knows that maybe he isn't, your heart says otherwise.

“I’ve accepted my lot in life, that I’m not going to deserve everything I get. Sometimes it’s just arbitrary.“ you sigh, “It sucks sometimes. I did get the short end of the stick, but I don’t want to shut you out of my life because of that.”

Gojo pauses with his chopsticks midway between his mouth and his food. He puts them down.

“You’re too much of a saint for me.”

“And you’re a sucker for that apparently.” you half-snort, half-roll your eyes. He can’t help chuckling.

His pauses then his face is serious all of a sudden.

“You know how Ieiri-san always jokes that I’m always a little in love with you? Well it’s true. I’m still a little in love with you and I grow more in love with you every time I see you. I don’t really know why.” His voice is a mix of bitterness, heartbreak and confusion.

You put your utensils down and reach out from under the table to grasp his fingers.

“I haven’t changed.” he hesitates to take your hand, his face ridden with guilt. He pulls away, “Don’t do this.”

You gently shake your head and indignantly keep your hands out.

“This isn’t about that. This is about being here for you, even if I'm not your fiancée. I’m here as just me.”

“How can you be so kind after I’ve hurt you all these years?” he asks, completely stupefied. 

“I came to the conclusion that you didn’t intend to hurt me.” you shrug,  “When you chose to be with other people, it wasn’t because you didn’t like me or wanted to spite me. It was because of things outside of our relationship: the familial pressure, the control and so on.”

“If it was just the two of us, you wouldn’t spite me. You have no reason to.” you add softly. He finally reaches out to hold you. His hands are not too warm or calloused. His fingers are slender and his grip firm.

Gojo is moved beyond words. He’s used to receiving attention and affection, but always in exchange for something: his time, his body, his power. You’ve never asked any of that. You give yourself unconditionally with all the tenderness you could spare, asking nothing in return.

What is this feeling? Hope? Redemption? Vindication? Whatever it is, it pushed him to look at you, quelling the sob rising in his chest.

How far you’ve both come. How far you have left to go.

After the meal, he insists on cleaning up. He turns to you when he’s done. You’ve passed out with your hand on the table. It’s been a long day.

Gojo shuffles through the nearby rooms for some clean blankets. He drapes one over your shoulders and readies to turn off the light in the kitchen. Right before he leaves, he catches a glance at you. He goes back to get another blanket and pulls out the chair in front of you and closes his eyes. He has a lot of time to make up for.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. This is 3 out 4 so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the rest of the releases! 😊

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D

Series Taglist: @shamelessdonutsludgebanana @kageyamakock @shirostrbl @luvang3l @cloudsinthecosmos @httpjungoo @saturnki  @itstheee-ha-chan @gucci-froggy @cherryonigiri

[strwbrryblues]

Heavy Heart

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff (at the end???), College AU, FWB to Lovers, 18+, Implied Smut

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Implied sexual content, Implied cheating (not on the main characters), Trust issues, Non-explicit sexual content, Implied playboy!seungmin (???), Not proofread properly (english is not my first language so there will be typos along the way), 3rd Person POV, Fem pronouns

A/N: Hello! This is my first fic that I will publish out of the hundreds I have on my drafts! This was also heavily inspired not really from the Kdrama Nevertheless *sobs* this fic actually came to existent because I've been thinking of Seungmin because NoEasy era is totally his era 😩

Btw, I don't write smut explicitly because I don't know how to write one, so everything is implied (as well as in the future if i ever publish more)

Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this!

I.

It’s been a long night, both of pleasure and exhaustion. Y/n faced the man before her, whose back so broad that it covered the man’s identity. But it’s the back of the very person she fell in love with. Hopeless as she is, pathetic she felt for accepting such a ridiculous request. To be as intimate as if bounded by vows and promises, but to not be attached and only act as if nights of pleasure never happened.

It’s like the very song she heard from that series she and her friends binged watched.

I think I like the sight of your back

So, I can look at you without expecting you to look at me

We look for love in different places

But I’m trying to sleep, holding on to the nights you were here

The song could lull and carry her to her dreams on sleepless nights, if only the song wasn’t as hurtful as it was. She’d listen to how melodic the song was on numerous times, but she felt it was too real. It’s as if she was the one singing it to the man.

On mornings spent after blissful and hazy nights, she’d always wake up first. Cleaning herself up of the residues of last night’s evidence, she’d be fresh as if nothing ever happened the moment the boy wakes up.

“You’re up early again,” Seungmin mumbled groggily. Sitting up, the navy-blue duvet that covered his bare chest, slipped down. He thought it was no use covering his self once more, when their nightly activities already revealed more.

“Oh,” Y/n paused and pondered of an excuse, “I got a text from Jisung. He said he wanted to grab breakfast with me.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, she thought. It was a morning routine she fell into with said boy, ever since freshmen.

Seungmin shuffled, the duvet covering his lower area as he looked for his boxers, to at least show some decency to the fully clothed girl. “Did he say where? I can drive you there.”

Her heart ached at the gesture, but she really wished to escape the scene as quickly as possible. “It’s fine. It’s a couple blocks down the university.”

The boy halted in the middle of wearing an oversized shirt he picked from the pile of clothes on the floor, his lower body finally clothed. “Are you sure?”

Y/n smiled half heartedly, walking to her bag and slinging it to her shoulders. “Yeah. I’m all good,” she said, walking out the bedroom and to Seungmin’s front door. “See you around campus.” Seungmin only waved in reply, closing the door of his apartment.

II.

Y/n walked back to her shared apartment with a guy named Felix; a hand clutched to her chest as she eased the ache she felt. It was a recurring thing for her after a night spent with Seungmin. She’d always remember their first night together and compare it to now; a night previously spent by roughness and edging but now it all seemed vanilla. It was playing with her heart and mind. She knew it was a mistake to agree to this arrangement the moment Seungmin asked. So why is it now that she only started to regret.

She always wished to find real love in developing friendships, or maybe love at first sight. But those dreams were crushed with the constant rejection and lies she experienced. Even seeing her mother suffer from heartbreak that her so-called father caused, she lost faith in love. She wished that if love came to her, it would be with someone who’d unravel her and care for her—someone to get her back on her feet. She did not expect to find love this way. Not in this arrangement.

Y/n had suffered enough heartbreak; she didn’t need any more.

Once she arrived at her apartment, she was greeted with the scent of sugar and chocolate. Her roommate has been up in the early hours of the morning to bake batches of brownies as well as cookies.

“Oh! You’re home!” Felix greeted cheerily, a yellow apron with a yellow freckled chick on the apron’s pocket, stitched.

“You’ve been baking? What time did you get up?” Y/n removed her shoes, following Felix to their little kitchen but not before haphazardly throwing her bag on their couch.

“I’ve been up since 5, actually,” Felix shyly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He handed a piece of cooling brownie to the girl.

Y/n counted the hours, “3 hours?” Felix nodded. “Something big is happening then, if you’re gonna bake so early, and with this much cookies and brownies.”

“Yeah! Our Contemporary Dance professor from first year wanted three juniors and two seniors to evaluate the freshmen’s finals practical exams. I didn’t make the cut to evaluate but I was invited to perform!” Felix brightly explained. “I had baked these as snacks for the evaluators and as encouragement for the freshmen performing later this afternoon.”

Y/n nodded in understanding, smiling at the boy. She met Felix through Jisung—both sharing the same class, minoring in traditional art with Hyunjin and Y/n. The girl was not that much of a social butterfly, so her connections mostly came from Jisung. And she genuinely thinks that Felix is an angel. Seeing him now, even if he wasn’t asked to evaluate, he was invited to perform anyway—which definitely tells a lot about how talented he is to receive an invitation. And he expressed his gratitude by waking up in the wee hours of the morning to bake.

“You’re literally an angel.” She muttered, not minding the compliment that slipped unconsciously. Felix grinned shyly in reply. He’d been told that a lot of times. They even call him sunshine. He usually denied it, but he grew kind of used to it.

“All in a day’s work,” Felix brightly smiled. Y/n thought that she should’ve worn sunglasses with how blinding the boy’s smile is.

Ruffling Felix’s hair in thanks for the sweet dessert, she walked to her room to pick some clothes, then going to the bathroom to prepare for breakfast with Jisung. When she walked back to the kitchen after being dressed, she was greeted with Felix pulling out the last batch of cookies to be cooled, from the oven.

“Hey Lix, I’m out to grab breakfast with Jisung,” she called, earning said boy’s attention. “I’m assuming you haven’t had one yet, do you perhaps want to come with us?”

Felix smiled, “Sure! This needs to cool off anyway before I pack them individually.” He spoke, removing his oven mitts. He covered the cookie tray to avoid it from being raided by ants, “Let me just change real quick. Wait for me?” Y/n nodded, grabbing a sling bag to put her wallet and phone.

The two soon made their way to the usual diner she and Jisung go to for breakfast. There, three spent their time chatting idly that it soon erased the thought of Seungmin from her mind, even if it was for a few hours, it was fatally important for her.

III.

Felix invited both Jisung and Y/n to watch his performance. The event was open to all students from the art department—and for anyone from a different department, granted they were invited or they have someone from the art department.

“As expected, Lix makes really good cookies and brownies!” Hyunjin, a classmate of Felix—who was one of the chosen junior evaluators—complimented. The boy’s eyes creasing into crescents from the ecstatic feeling the sweet gave him.

Minho, who was one of the senior evaluator, clicked his tongue in dismay, “If only I was Felix’s roommate,” the older glared playfully at Y/n who just chuckled at him in return. “Hey,” Minho called out, earning the attention of all of them in their little circle at the back stage. He looked at Felix concerned, “You baked this really early, right? Are you sure you’re rested enough to perform later?”

The group looked at Felix now. “Don’t worry! The adrenaline’s rushing that I can’t even feel tired!” He looked excited even with the bags hidden from his light make-up.

“At least get a few minutes of shut eye before your performance,” Jisung sighed.

Felix shook his head, “I don’t want to miss out all of the freshmen’s performance!”

Y/n knew there was no helping it. All of them knew. “If you say so,” she sighed. “We’ll find our seats. The event’s going to start in a few.” She remarked, after checking the digital clock displayed on her lock screen.

The three dancers waved Jisung and Y/n a 'goodbye'. The two wished them a "good luck" as they soon found their seats amongst the crowd of art students. Some she recognized from her shared classes, while some she thought from a different department. But her eyes caught the familiar mop of brunette. The same brunette she’d wake up to beside her, on days said person would feel lonely and ask for her presence.

Y/n fought the urge to come over and say a quick "hello". The boy was alone. She could really make her way to make a small talk but she stopped. Seungmin—a few seats from in front of her—seemed to be checking his phone, with the occasional glance at the stage as if looking for someone.

Ah…He’s here for someone.

And so, she sat back down beside Jisung.

IV.

The performance of each group, duo, or individuals, went smoothly. It was after Felix and a few other juniors who performed for a short intermission, did the event proceed once more. This time, it was two freshmen performing a contemporary dance from the song “Heavy Heart” by RIO from the drama Nevertheless.

The interpretation of the song the two students put in each move drew her closer. She was no dancer but she felt the emotion coming from them. And somehow, it brought her back to the thought from this morning. The song coming to an end, heartbreaking steps from the dancers, as if it was a manifestation of her whole situation, and it brought back her dilemma of the same sentences that made her heart ache.

I think I like the sight of your back

So, I can look at you without expecting you to look at me

We look for love in different places

But I’m trying to sleep, holding on to the nights you were here

She came to a realization that once again, in this very auditorium, that Seungmin was ahead of her. Never seeing his face, always his back. Right…He’d never look back at me. Because right there, he was looking at the freshman who’d just finished performing.

She knew he’d take a liking to people with talent, someone who’d be skillful, someone who'd steal his breath away with a performance like this, but she never expected he’d be interested in someone younger. Then again, she shouldn’t be, considering news comes around that he’d even sleep with someone older than him by a few years.

Looking at him right now, from where she sat, she can make out a glimpse of his profile, and it’s enough for her to conclude that his face was painted with pure adoration. Something he never gave her.

When will you look at me? It’s a sentence she wished to ask. Because she knew its futility when she’s slapped with the truth that she’s just another doll to throw once he’s tired of the same play.

V.

Seungmin

Hey

Can you come over tonight?

Y/n

I’m sorry

I can’t

I’m actually cramming my finals

Seungmin

You want me to help you?

Y/n

No offense

I don’t think a music major could help me with my

graphics finals

Seungmin

Oh you hurt me 😢💔

Y/n

😛

Seungmin

I guess if you’re busy

It can’t be helped

Y/n

Really sorry about that ☹️

Seungmin

Don’t worry 😊

Good luck on your finals though

Y/n

Thanks!

VI.

It’s probably a week since they last talked. Y/n wished it stretched more until she graduates, but getting Seungmin out of her brain and her perimeter was harder than it looked. She desperately wanted to stop their little rendezvous, but she still found herself in the same bed right after finals week.

Seungmin had her pinned between the soft sheets of his bed, and she can’t help but give in. She felt high from the sweet kisses he gave, but the ugly feeling of hurt tugs at the very pit of her stomach. She feels wrong and dirty.

Hazy with the bliss he continuously gave, she barely noticed how Seungmin had pulled at her left hand, tugging it to his lips, where he pressed a kiss from the inside her ring finger. “You have a beauty mark here,” he murmured between his lips. Intertwining his right hand with her left after the kiss. He then moved to her chest, pressing a kiss on the inside of her mounds, he muttered once more, “you have another one here.” After the kiss on her chest, he leaned closer to her face, their warm, bare bodies pressed together. He gently pulled at her ear with his lips, he muttered again, “and here too.”

Seungmin kept up with his chaste kisses all over her body where her beauty marks were. Even the smallest ones that were in visible areas that people would normally look, he noticed. She felt like she could cry. No one ever notices those. Not even her. And the very thought that Seungmin was the one to notice, to give attention no matter how small it was, gave her heart the biggest amount of hope that maybe he does feel something for her in return. But her heart feels heavy.

After the bliss, came the heart ache she’d always feel. This time it’s quadrupled in pain. She felt horrible. She shouldn’t be here anymore when Seungmin found his potential significant other.

And so, when morning came once more, she opted to stand up and proceed with the usual routine of cleaning and dressing up before Seungmin woke. However, before she could even sit up, a pair of arms already found its way to her waist. Head buried behind hers, nose kissing up the back of her neck.

“Are you planning to leave early again?” Seungmin’s deep morning voice sounded within the quiet room. Sleep evident in his tone, but she was sure there was something akin to slight disappointment when he spoke.

“I have to. I’m meeting up with Jisung,” she softly replied. Her heart beating miles per hour in nervousness. She hoped he didn’t hear the loud thuds it made.

“It’s always him. Can’t you stay even for a little while?” He sounded a bit childish. Maybe a bit jealous… No…you can’t really be jealous…right?

She shakily sighed, “But I don’t think I have any reason to stay here…” Considering what we have is casual and something that does not need any strings attached…

“Can’t your reason be me?”

Silence.

Even her heart have stopped it’s rapid and loud beating.

“I want to get to know you more…I want to talk to you; I want to cook for you in the mornings after we spend time in the night; I want to share my deepest thoughts with you; I want to know your thoughts…I want to hear your voice…There’s so many things I want to do with you…”

She was caught tongue tied. What was she supposed to reply? She barely even processed what he said.

“What?” It was the only thing that came out of her.

“I know you don’t feel the same, considering it’s always Jisung you run to…” He paused. “But I am genuinely in love with you.” Suddenly, his arms tightened around her waist—but not in a hurtful way—as if he was afraid, she’d slip out of him and into Jisung’s arms.

“You…love me?” She swore she felt a tear slip from her eyes and kiss its way down her cheek to the pillow beneath.

“I do. I’m sorry…I couldn’t help it…” He sounded dejected. “I’m not sure if you’re entirely interested in anyone else…but if you let me, I can show you how honest I am with what I feel…I don’t want you to think that I’m looking at you just for sex.” He said, nuzzling his nose on the back of her neck. Her scent calming his nerves and the ache he feels in his chest.

Y/n couldn’t help it anymore. She was still unsure, but she turned around in his arms to face him. “When did you feel it?” She stared in his eyes, searching for proof that she wasn’t being lied to, like her previous love interests.

“During that time, you asked me for help with your photography project…” He spoke. And it was enough for the girl to jog up the memory of the two of them together in the soccer field of the university. The sun casted its golden glow as it begun sinking, preparing it’s farewell. Seungmin lay on the grass as Y/n took photos for her photography project. The girl was happy with the results, and Seungmin witnessing her bright, satisfied smile did numerous things to him. It was also their first night of intimacy—the kind of intimacy where everything was slow and vanilla.

Y/n remembers it crystal clear. Because that was the time, she realized she’d fallen deeper for the boy. She was starting to feel light headed from the thought of having her feelings returned, but something still bothered her. “Then what about that freshman during the dance majors’ practical exams?”

Seungmin was surprised she noticed that. You were there? You saw me? He kind of wanted to tease her, but decided not to, considering that the air around them was serious and that he wanted her to know that his intentions were true. “That was my cousin and their girlfriend.” He looked into her eyes.

Suddenly she felt embarrassed. She didn’t need to, but she can’t help considering the boy’s reputation was already questionable.

“I…feel the same way,” she started, earning a wide-eyed reaction from Seungmin. But before the boy could happily reply, she continued, “but I’m sorry if you’ll have to wait for me…”

Seungmin was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t trust anyone fully when it comes to love or relationship…I’m sorry if you’ll have to wait for me to open up…” She looked down sadly, biting at her nails in nervousness.

Seungmin removed an arm around her waist, travelling up to her cheek while the other remained to keep her close. “I don’t mind waiting. In fact, I’d love to help you,” He assured, caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I know my reputation is not the best…but I’m really serious with you. I’m tired of fooling around, I want to settle down…And I want it to be with you, because you make me feel at ease and at home.”

She sighed, feeling a light weight from the heavy load her heart carried, being lifted. “I’ll try.”

The hand that rested on her waist moved to her left hand once more. Like the last night they spent, Seungmin brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to where her small beauty mark was, on her ring finger. “We’ll do it together, and we’ll do it slowly. I won’t pressure you into anything you don’t want, that, I promise.” With that, he pressed a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

Her heart is heavy, but right now, it felt lighter than it did before.

-----

© September 2021, strwbrryblues. All rights reserved.

[untimelytales]

[ pierre gasly, cis man, he/him. ] ✧･ﾟ is that [ amaury chabert ] who just stumbled into town? rumour has it that they’re the [ twenty-six ] year old child of [ lumiere and fifi ] from [ beauty and the beast ]. i’ve also heard that they’re [ playful ] but [ shallow ] and have [ one ] sibling. i could almost swear i heard [ ainsi bas la vida - indila ] playing when they appeared.

amaury was born before his parents were married, being the final push for the two to tie the knot. while lumiere was very much a playboy, he didn’t see himself as being an absent father. he had lots of love to give, but he needed to shift how he gave that love and to whom. and, amaury was lucky enough to gain all the attention – often too spoiled and allowed to get away with far too much. living in the castle with his family gave him the false sense that he was a little prince as well.

unfortunately, he was expected to be a servant just like his parents – something he did not look forward to nor want in the slightest. he was better than just someone’s maid or footman. he wanted to be a prince, but didn’t have the pedigree. so, his second thought would be to make a name for himself in paris. paris had everything – you could be anyone. plus, he’d almost exhausted the people he could charm or bed in the little town nearest the castle. so, he’d packed his bags without hesitation and set out for the capital.

once he got there, he easily got settled in with the artistic crowd. he frequented the clubs almost every night, partying until the sun came up. then, he would sleep and wake in the late afternoon. he worked the later half of the day at a bakery, sketching in his off time. he didn’t have any goals for his future other than to live in the moment and enjoy himself. and, he was doing just that. he had his little group of friends that grew and shrank like the tide, and his bed was rarely empty. honestly, if he had to choose being a lonely prince of this life, the dream of being a prince was easily forgotten.

                   basics:                       full name:  amaury jean chabert                       nicknames:  am, jean (if you're mad at him)                       gender:  cis man                       pronouns:  he / him                       sexuality:  bisexual                       age:  26                       occupation:  baker / artist                       species:  human

                   appearance:                       faceclaim:  pierre gasly                       height:  5′10''                       eyes:  blue                       hair:  brown                       piercings:  n/a                       tattoos:  n/a                       other distinguishing features:  n/a                       style:  loose casual

                   personality:                       traits:  flirtatious, shallow, greedy, lackadaisical                       likes:  painting, sex, soft sheets, smell of fresh bread                       dislikes:  summer heat, working for a living                       fears:  not finding love                       phobias:  n/a                       hobbies:  sketching, smoking, gambling                       skills:  painting, baking, cleaning                       quirks:  n/a                       pet peeves:  n/a

                   family:                       mother:  fifi                       father:  lumiere                       siblings:  one                       birth order:  eldest                       spouse / lover:  n/a                       children:  n/a                       pets:  n/a                       notable close relatives:  n/a

[tteokdoroki]

💜-Hawks Pt 2 commission kidnapped I wrote most of this at 1 am, so it may not be the best.

You sat quietly in one of the commission cars,accompanied by one commission agent who hasn’t told you anything no matter how many times you ask where you’re going. You were worried about keigo, knowing that he probably was freaking out when he saw you weren’t home when he got back.

You were even lucky for the commission to give you a blanket, even if it is a poor excuse for a blanket, it is still better than only being in the commission uniform they give to their prisoners. You assume it is a bit nicer though due to it being cloth and not paper like material you’ve seen other have to wear. Hell you didn’t even get shoes, only hospital socks.

The car stopped and you hear the wind pound against the window. Thinking the worst you being to well up, terrified of what you assume is you impending demise. Maybe they’ll tell keigo that you love him one last time. But as the door opened youre greeted by two arms nearly yanking you out of the car and into a tight embrace.

“Keigo?” You ask, wanting to know if this is real, you’re not going to die. His wings wrap around you, almost acting as a shield.

He lets out a deep sigh of relief now that you’re in his arms, safe. His arms tighten around you as his eye dart around his surroundings. His pupils were pins and he had more of a wild bird look than his normal clean cut, playboy hero look.

“Please baby, tell me you’re real,” he says with a strained voice. Holding you like you’d slip away if he let go.

You wrap your arms around his torso, snuggling into his chest,”I’m here keigo, I’m right here,” you lift up one arm to gently move his face from your neck, having him look at you, “everything is okay, I’m here. I’m alive. “

He looks you over in his arms, checking for any major injuries that need immediate attention. Once he sees none he sweeps you up in his arms and takes off.

While you were taken he prepared new security systems, took more measures to ensure your safety. He also had to clean up and replace the broken furniture, not wanting to make you stress or worry.

He arrives in the balcony, not even feeling the cold wind with the adrenaline flowing through his veins, but he feels you shiver slightly and presses you closer to his chest. Even when you two are inside of the house he didn’t calm down, not till all the doors were locked and the security system was enabled.

“Keigo, thank you so much. “ you say kissing his chest, leaning your head against him.

“I’m sorry,” his words filled with pain and regret,”it’s my fault you were taken. If I wasn’t such a fucking idiot I could have protected you better,” he wasn’t nearly crying at this point. He slides down onto the floor with you in his arms, clutching you close to his body as guil overwhelms him.

“Keigo, do not think like that. You are the reason I’m here right now. You couldn’t have stopped them, but you rescued me. “Taking his face in your hands you kiss his cheek,” that was for saving me,” you kiss his other cheek,” that is for being the best boyfriend in the world,” you kiss his nose,”that’s for being my hero,” you continue to pepper his face with kisses and shower him in complements till he stops crying.

Even when his tears stop you continue to hug him with his wings encircling around the two of you, keeping you safe and warm. When he has calmed down a bit more, he’ll realize that you’re wearing a paper thin set of pajamas and socks. Those fuckers could even give you actual clothes, or at least shoes, he thought to himself. Carefully he stands up with your arms and legs around him, carrying you too the bedroom he gets out one of his hoodies. He hates how you don’t smell like him or even yourself. You smell like the commission cell, and the generic soap brand they made you use.

You notice the foul look on his face, his ruffles feathers and his constant sniffs.

“Keigo, what’s wrong baby. What’s with that foul face. I didn’t think I smelled that bad,” your joke at least made him crack a smile, but that quickly turned into a frown once the smell of the commission soap hit him again.

“Your smell, it doesn’t smell like you. All I smell is that fucking place.” His pupils shrink and his wings puffy up again think about how you were taken against your will and held in a cell. The one person who grounded him, made him feel loved, who was there for him and loved him when he didn’t know how to love himself.

“How about we take a bath? Would that be okay? “ you suggest. He just nods, not trusting himself to keep a level head right now.

He is so gentle and attentive when helping you into the bath, checking you over for injuries while you try to talk to him. He washes you down till you don’t smell like the commission anymore. He sees your exhausted eyes, and decides that he’ll pamper you more tomorrow.

Dressed in his hoodie and his pajama bottoms he picks you up again, carrying you over to the bed. The blankets and pillows that are piles onto the bed makes it look more like a nest, but you’re not complaining. Not when keigo is holding you tightly with his wings covering you, and a warm blanket is over you both. You nuzzle further into his embrace, letting yourself drift off into the first deep sleep in a while.

Keigo couldn’t sleep much, not now. He is too worked up to let himself relax, although he does feel better with you in his arms. His dove who deserves the world. Only three more years of being trapped in the commission till he can be free, till he can finally be keigo again.

If he has to fight every villain, every hero, every fucking commission worker to be with you he will, he’ll do anything to keep you safe and happy.

“I love you dove,” he mumbles in your ear, expecting you to be asleep

“Love you too birdy,”

HERE WE GO 🥺🥺

as soon as keigo sees the doors of the car opening, the world begins to spin like oxygen is finally filling his lungs again...because quite frankly— you are his oxygen. you were the one to breathe fresh air into his life and give it a sense of meaning to his life all over again. his arms tremble as he takes you into them, pads of his fingers sinking into every ounce of your flesh to check that you’re alive and breathing and real.

you’re real.

he can’t help the flutter in his wings when he brings you into his arms, nuzzling you like a touch starved animal while he still gets a sense of you. your poor birdie looks heartbroken as heartbroken as you feel— being apart from each other is painful and draining, like you’re being ripped aosrt with a burning feeling in your chest. but once you’re with him, everything has colour again, the world is brighter and the sky clearer.

when you’re finally back home, new security measures in place— he breaks like shattered glass, pretty tears cutting you with just how much hurt he feels. and while you hold each other, he realised that you don’t smell like comfort, but the horrid people who took you from him. even though you’re in his arms you don’t feel like his dove, his love, but a little pawn in the game that the comission played with you.

keigo sings to you; while you bathe together— the birdie chirps that remind you of the days you shared in secret with one another, covering you in a thick sheet of your eternal love before everything that happened. you sing back, tales of your deep routed feelings for the number two hero written across your lips. your love for hawks speaks even bigger when you intertwine your fingers while he sleeps, listening to the sound of his now calmed breathing.

“do you love me?” keigo asks, nosing your hairline.

“always birdie.”

“is this real?”

“yes.”

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Written for the Jasonette July Wayne Gala prompt.

Why?!? Why was she doing this again? Oh right, because John Constantine promised to give her some help with a particularly difficult part of the Grimoire if she did.  And he needed the information he was currently obtaining in order to give said help.  That is how she ended up with an invitation, still not sure how Constantine pulled that off, to the most exclusive event of the year, the Wayne Gala.  

Plus, Adrien was kind of right, ordinarily it would be a great opportunity to showcase her designs. The problem was on its surface, her dress wasn't one of her best works. The black dress had a high, cowl neckline in front and in back, adding a bit of drama and a small homage to the local heroes, vigilantes she silently corrected herself.  The high neckline also offset the incredibly short bubble skirt, making her legs look longer than the Nile.  Despite being a bit uncomfortable showing that much leg, it was necessary for this particular design and if she could actually feel like she had long legs for once, she was willing to deal with the discomfort.  She also added a glittery belt to show her shape and add some bling, which seemed like something the people at this particular event would value.  It was functional, not fashionable.  Not that it was ugly, just that it was designed to be passable, enough to fit in but not enough to get noticed.

She fidgeted slightly as she stood in the entryway trying to get past the people piling up trying to not so discretely pay homage to the king.  That king being Bruce Wayne. From her research, he actually did seem like he was a good guy. The list of charities he started or contributed to was longer than she was tall. She scowled at the voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Adrien's saying that wasn't much.  Adrien, who got out of coming tonight because the mission was to observe the Waynes unnoticed and Adrien Agreste would get a bit too much attention, that cat bastard.

Despite the laundry list of charity work, Marinette was still suspicious of Wayne.  First of all, he was rich, filthy rich.  Anyone that rich had to have some dark and twisted secrets they were hiding.  He wouldn’t be the first rich person to hide their illicit activities behind a veil of charity work.  Second, he chose to live in Gotham, the most crime-riddled city in the world.  And that is just the reported crime.  A great deal of the crime never got reported to or investigated by the police, whether through corruption or exhaustion.  The kind of place a rich person could be confident they would get away with literal murder.

But mostly, it was Constantine that made her suspicious of Bruce Wayne.  Not that Constantine had ever said anything negative about him, well nothing more than calling him a pain in the ass, but that was really not so much an insult as a compliment coming from Constantine.  But, Wayne had information Constantine needed to help them with the Grimoire and Constantine refused to say how Wayne had gotten that information. How and why would a playboy billionaire have that information?  There is absolutely no reason someone outside of the hero/villain/magic community would have that information.  And, if he was such a good guy, why would Constantine need to go to these lengths to get it without Wayne’s knowledge?  Unless it was related to one of his illicit secrets.

Her eyes darted around the room taking in its grandeur, muttering to herself about how ostentatious it all was.  Normally, she would be completely mesmerized by the grandeur and pomp of the scene.  The room was decorated to perfection.  Everything was absolutely exquisite.  However, she was too anxious and wary to enjoy it.  So instead of being inspired, each gorgeous detail grated on her. She reached up to tug on her hair before remembering her hair had been pulled up into an elegant twist held in place with a single silver pin. With her normal anxiety relief method unavailable, she instead shifted nervously from foot to foot while she scanned the room trying to catch sight of the rest of the Waynes, gently tightening and loosening her grip on her purse, trying not to crush Tikki.

She was so lost in her anxiety she didn't notice the dark haired man walking behind her take notice of her and stop.  He stood behind her with a nonchalance that didn’t seem to fit a man his size.  He watched her fidget and muttering to herself about “damn rich people” with a smile on his face.

“You don't seem excited to be here” he said quietly.

She turned around with wide eyes, shocked that someone had heard her.  Whatever she was expecting to see it was not what she saw in front of her.  The man towered over her.  Even in her ridiculously, dangerously high heels, Chloe insisted, her head didn’t even come up to his chin.  He was also extremely handsome, with chiseled features and the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen.  Those eyes were going to be a problem.  They were clear and kind and roguish and hypnotizing.  His black hair with a shock of white was slightly tousled giving the impression of a rouge trying to look sophisticated.  Was it inappropriate to imagine running her hand through his hair and along his sharp jawline?  Yeah, probably not appropriate and likely not welcome.  Clean up your thoughts, girl!  Great, now Alya was in her head scolding her.  No, that’s not right, because that would definitely not be Alya’s advice.  

He was grinning at her with an impish look in his eyes. “What?  Not impressed with the ‘we care about whatever the point of this gala is, but we’re not hobos so let’s not skimp on the luxury for us’ décor?  Or maybe it is the illustrious, soul sucking, benefactors of Gotham that have set you on edge.”  The smile he shot her was guarded and critical. She chuckled lightly and looked away. “You have good judgement and a good reason to be suspicious.  But you made it to The event of the season, so you must have done something right… or wrong.”

She hummed and looked away.  “Have you ever had one of those days where everything went wrong and now you don't know how you got where you are or why you are there?”

“I’m familiar with the feeling,” he nodded.

“That's my life. All of it.  Every single fucking day.  This one included."

He barked out a laugh and looked at her again appraising her.  “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine.  I think I like you.  You might just make this torture session more bearable.  See you around,” he chuckled as he walked away.

Marinette watched the man’s retreating back.  The night was already going better than she thought it would.  But the plan for the night wasn’t to find a date it was to act as a scout and keep tabs on the… enemy?  For all intents and purposes, that is what the Waynes were tonight, right?  They had information that she needed, that Paris needed, and they apparently weren’t going to part with it willingly, so they were the enemy.  No, enemy sounded too harsh she chided herself.  Opposition? Yes, they were the opposition.  That sounded much less hostile, more like a game… a game where people’s lives were on the line.  You know, just for fun, no pressure.

She found a spot against a wall she could use.  It was slightly raised but not well lit so it wouldn’t draw attention to her.  From her spot she could finally see the family. It was very thoughtful of them to group together like that.  She could see the little one, stiff and military-like posture, glowering at the people around him.  He was standing as far away from the rest of the people there as he could without actually leaving the room.  Much closer to the dancefloor, she could see the middle boy talking to a few business men. They all had fake smiles plastered on their faces as they made seemingly insignificant small talk.  She did not envy him that experience.  Between the two and to the side was the oldest son. He was chatting up some business person’s daughter, leaning in a lot closer than etiquette would dictate. Just the father then… there he was still not too far from the door talking to a dark haired woman.  He had his arm around her waist as she leaned into him. She must be the girlfriend then. Mari made a note that she should probably pay attention to where she was as well.  Fortunately, the spot she had chosen gave her a great vantage point.  Unfortunately, her observation spot wasn’t as unnoticed as she had hoped.

 ___________________________________________________________

Jason made his way over to the bar and ordered a beer.  He still hadn’t spoken to his family to let them know he was there and he definitely needed a drink before he approached them.  Why the fuck was he here again?  Fucking Batman.  

Fresh glass of beer in hand, he made his way over to his brothers, refusing to acknowledge any of the partygoers along the way.  He watched as his brothers took note of his approach and excused themselves from their conversation partners.  Dick didn’t look too happy to turn away from the latest interest, smiling at her and giving her reassurances before sending her away.  Tim looked less happy to have to turn away from the men he was talking with. He should be thanking Jason really. He was giving him an out from having to deal with them and their god awful personalities and fashion. Seriously, who told that guy that tie was okay.  Even the Riddler would think that tie was obnoxious.

“Okay, I’m here,” Jason said taking a large swig of his drink.  “How long before I can ditch this bottomless pit of misery?”

“Woah, slow down there.  You’re going to get drunk before the announcement.”  Dick cautioned him.

“Do you want me here or do you want me sober?  You’re going to have to choose one.  They’re mutually exclusive, Dickweed.”

“Come on Jaybird, we all have to be here.  None of the rest of us are getting drunk.”

“That’s just because I’m smarter than you guys are,” he said tipping his glass to Tim who had scoffed at the suggestion and took another drink.  “There is no reason we all have to be here.  We shouldn’t all have to suffer.  And officially, I’m not even a member of this hellscape of a family anymore so I really shouldn’t have to be here.”

“If The Disappointment gets to leave, so do I. Someone should be patrolling tonight instead of all of us wasting our time entertaining these harpies.  And if one more person tries to touch me on my head I’m going to break a hand.”

“Stop it!  Nobody is leaving, Damian.  We’re in this together.  And Jason, if anyone got to go home it wouldn’t be you.  You are the reason we all have to be here in the first place; so we can ALL show our support when we officially announce that you are part of this ‘hellscape of a family’ again.  So enjoy it,” he said with a cutting smile.

“Not everyone enjoys getting groped by the gold-digging, trust fund whores.  I’ve found a way to cope.  It’s called alcohol.  Now if you’ll excuse me,” he downed the drink in his hand, “my drink is empty.  I’m going to go find another.”

“At least try not to interact with anyone. We don’t want to piss anyone off tonight.  And I don’t want to have to fix your messes.”

“Way ahead of you, Replacement.”  Jason turned and walked away before Dick could reprimand him again.  He needed to get away.  He could only handle his family in small does, very small doses, miniscule amounts, and he had already surpassed that limit.  

He grabbed two more drinks off of a passing waiter’s tray and looked for the Sunshine Girl.  He scanned the room sipping the champagne, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room.  His size and demeanor was usually enough to keep people away but making eye contact made people think he was open to talking.  He was not.  He had no interest in making nice with Gotham’s elite.  He wanted to get this night over with, with as little pain as possible.  

He finally spotted her off to the side of the room speaking with the obnoxious tie guy.  Jason watched as the man slid his hand up the side of her leg starting to move under her skirt.  Jason started to make his way over to them until he saw her move closer to the man.  She was close enough to whisper seductively into his ear now.  Ah, not uninvited then.  Maybe he had misread her.  Well there goes his hope of this party not sucking balls.  He started to turn away but noticed a pained expression on the man’s face.  He turned back to reexamine the scene.  She was holding the man’s hand at an unnatural angle.  It was a hold he’d used a few times himself, it was discrete but extremely effective, causing intense pain with a small movement.  He knew if she moved her hand just a few more centimeters, she could easily break his wrist.

She let go with a viscous look pushing him away from her as she did.  The man shook his hand and scowled at her.  He started back toward her and Jason took off running, not pausing to apologize to the people he bumped into along the way.  Before he could get to her, she had already taken care of it. She squared her shoulders and glared at the man, making it clear that she could and would continue with her actions if he persisted.  When she moved her hand ever so slightly, just enough so he could see it and remember what she had done, the man turned away and smiled at the people who had been standing behind him as though nothing had happened.  Jason chuckled to himself watching her move away from the man. She was definitely going to make this night more bearable.

“Looks like you don’t need me around for protection. Although I did bring a drink so maybe I can earn my keep that way,” he said handing her one of the glasses in his hand.  “That was extremely impressive.  How did you lean to handle yourself like that?”  

She accepted the glass and shrugged.  “You live in Paris long enough you pick up a few things.”

“That isn’t something you just ‘pick up’. That’s experience.”

“And that is exactly what you get when you have a supervillain terrorizing your streets and thoughts for 5 years; experience. And how do you know about that move?  Rich boy secretly a vigilante?” She raised an eyebrow at him giving him a daring smile and pretending to take a drink from the glass.  She was on a mission and she didn’t know him.  She wasn’t about to actually drink anything a stranger gave her, let alone get drunk.

“You don’t grow up in Gotham without learning how to take down someone trying to cop a feel.  And what do you mean about a supervillain in Paris?” he asked taking a step closer to her, concern edging into his stare.

“It doesn’t matter.  It’s not relevant for tonight.” She said taking a step away and scanning the room again to locate the Waynes.

He looked at her for a few moments taking her in, not just her appearance but how she held herself.  She stood with confidence and nonchalance.  She wasn’t acting coy, she wasn’t baiting him to ask her more questions, she was serious.  There was some kind of supervillain running around Paris that they had no idea about.  Well that piqued his interest.  He wanted to find out more about that and just his luck, the only person around who knew about it was the gorgeous and badass Sunshine Child in front of him. Guess he’ll just have to suffer and spend more time talking to her.  The things he does for Gotham, he smirked to himself. “I’m Jason,” he said putting his hand out for her to shake.

She looked at his hand before hesitantly taking it. His hand absolutely engulfed hers. “Nice to meet you Jason,” she said looking toward the dancefloor.  She had last seen the Waynes near the dancefloor and they couldn’t have gotten far, right?  They were likely to be near it.

Misinterpreting her focus he asked, “Wanna dance?” placing down his now empty glass.

She needed a better vantage point to locate the Waynes and even if they weren’t on the dancefloor anymore, the dancefloor would be the ideal place get an unobstructed, overall view of the room.  She could see the entire room from the dancefloor.  She just had to scope it out discretely so Jason didn’t get suspicious.  “Sure,” she said smiling at him and accepting the hand he had offered her.

He guided her out onto the dancefloor.  Jason noticed a little girl standing nervously next to the dancefloor looking at a group of kids nearby.  “Hold on just a second,” he said dropping her hand to kneel down next to the little girl.  “Hey, I just wanted to say what a beautiful dress you have.  I wish you had a smile to match.  Anything wrong, kid?” he asked gently.  The little girl gave him a nervous smile.

“Thanks.  My Mom said I could pick out a dress and I chose this one.  But Mom says it looks silly.  It’s too fluffy and gets in everyone’s way.”

At that Marinette kneeled down next to her as well. “Oh.  Well, let me fill you in on a little secret.  I’m a fashion designer and I can tell you there is nothing wrong with fluffy.  You did a great job picking it out.  It is perfect for you.  I couldn’t design anything better.  I wish I looked as confident and effortlessly beautiful as you do. ”

The smile the little girl gave her was genuine this time.  “You really like it?”

“I do,” Marinette responded.  

“I do, too.  I’m not a fashion designer, but I still think you look good, kid.  And if anyone tells you they don’t like it, scr… I mean, forget them.  Who cares what they think.  A fashion designer and a delinquent think it looks amazing.  Don’t let someone else tell you what you like.” Jason added.  The little girl beamed at both of them and bounded off to join the kids with much more confidence.

Marinette watched him as he watched the kid play with her friends making raucous noise as they played, a grin on his face until he saw some parents come to reprimand their kids for being so noisy.  So, rich boy has a heart and is really protective of kids.  Well that wasn’t going to help Marinette focus solely on the mission. “That was incredibly nice of you.  That’s not advice I would have expected from someone attending a party like this.” Marinette said taking Jason’s outstretched hand again.

“Just because we’re miserable here doesn’t mean she should be, too.  Kids should be happy.  It’s ridiculous to bring a kid to a party if you aren’t going to let them be a kid. Adults in Gotham expect too much of their kids.  They treat them like props instead of kids, tools to help them achieve a goal.” He said voice getting gruff as he spoke.  He looked back at her and shook his head as if to clear his head of his thoughts.  He smiled at her instead and took her waist with his free hand to start dancing with her.

“You know, I noticed you never did give me your name.”

She looked into his eyes for a just a moment before she looked back to the dancefloor, “You know, I noticed that too.”

“Hmmm.  Secretive. No name but a fashion designer from Paris,” he said.  Marinette paled slightly refusing to look back at him.  He was paying attention to her and noticing details.  She hadn’t expected that from this crowd.  She was going to have to be more careful about what she said.  ‘Not get noticed’ played over and over in her head.  She was supposed to slip in and out with nobody remembering her.  She might have blown the mission already.  But, was she ready to walk away from those blue eyes?  Surely, talking with him couldn’t do any harm, right?  “So, did you design the dress you’re wearing?”

She was brought back to reality with a jolt.  “Yes.  Not… not my best work, but it fit the uh, occasion,” she stuttered out.

“Was the occasion to look stunning?  Because you do.”  He grinned smugly as she blushed heavily under his praise.  This was fun.  This was his new mission for the night; to see how many times he could make her blush.  “Still not going to tell me your name, huh?”

She looked back at him before dropping her eyes again.  Stupid mission.  If it were just her here for herself, she could stay here dancing with Jason and gazing into his eyes for the rest of the night, and tomorrow, and the day after for that matter.  But she wasn’t here for herself.  She was here for a reason and that reason demanded she be anonymous and keep track of the Waynes.

She scanned the floor again and finally spotted the Waynes, confirming they were all there.  Nobody had snuck off.  They really liked sticking around each other didn’t they?

“No, it takes more than a pretty line from a pretty boy to get my name” she said looking back to Jason and plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t need any rich boys remembering me after this is over.  Tomorrow I’ll go back to my real life and it will be like none of this ever happened. I can report that I came, I danced, and I even smiled a few times, then never speak of it again.”

“Friends or family forced you to come because they thought you needed some excitement in your life, Pixie Pop?”

“Something like that… Pixie Pop?”

“You won’t tell me your name and I need to call you something.  You’re little and mischievous and can handle yourself… Pixie Pop. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t go with Odysseus.  Also, you think I’m pretty?”  He grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, cheeks flushing slightly.  “I think that would have made you Polyphemus, which you certainly have the size for,” she grinned up at him.  “Anyway, that’s why I’m here.  How about you?”

“Oh, my family thinks I have enough fun already. I’m here because if they have to suffer, so do I.  And all to bolster the name of the illustrious Bruce Wayne.”

Marinette examined his face as he stared toward where she last seen Bruce Wayne.  He looked annoyed and frustrated.  This was a side of Mr. Wayne she had not heard about in her research, a side that frustrated native Gothamites.  A bit more information could be helpful for her to figure out what role he played in the Grimoire information Constantine was gathering, figure out whether or not he was a threat.  “Not a fan?” she asked delicately.

He looked back at her examining her face for any malice.  “Depends on the day.”

She hummed in response.  “What can you tell me about Bruce Wayne?” she finally asked.

“Why do you want to know?” he responded suspiciously. Most people looking for more information wanted it as a weapon.  Bruce might not be his favorite person, he might actually hate him right now, but he wasn’t going to help someone take him down unless it was him.

She shrugged, “everything I’ve seen shows an exemplary record for him.  You don’t seem to be a fan though and you’ve grown up in Gotham so you would have some good insights.  So, I’m wondering what your take on him is.  What he’s done to draw your ire.”

Jason nodded slightly seeming to mull over what she said.  “He does good things.  He helps a lot of charities.  He honestly does care about the city and the people and about making their lives better. His parenting skills could use some work though.  He could show his sons that he actually cares about them as more than tools, you know, whether they live or died…” he furrowed his brows and looked away for a few seconds before he schooled his expression.  His eyes got a wicked gleam to them and he leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially “… and I hear he’s sleeping with Batman.”

Mari looks at him surprised.  “Huh, I guess he has a type then, supermodels, superheroes…”

“Supervillains…” Jason says under her breath looking back at Bruce and his date.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he covered quickly, but the damage had already been done.  She had started thinking about Bruce’s involvement with the super community.  If he was sleeping with superheroes and super villains, that meant he was part of the same circles as Constantine… and Constantine liked dating in the super community.  Could Bruce Wayne be in the super community?  That would explain why he had information pertaining to the Grimoire.  And she might need to revisit exactly how Constantine knew Bruce Wayne.

“Are you okay?  I didn’t break you, did I?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, fine I could just maybe use some uh, water?” she gave an awkward smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please?”  She just needed a bit of space to think.

Jason left to grab a glass of water and turned back to her.  She watched Bruce with her head crooked to the side.  He saw her finger discretely swiping to the right a few times as she stared intently at Bruce.  After a few times her finger swiped left instead and head straightened.  She looked around to the other members of the family as if she was counting, confirming something in her head.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized why Bruce Wayne could have information they needed and why Constantine needed her to keep an eye on the Waynes.  Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.  She turned away quickly.  This could not be happening.  This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.  She did NOT help him break into the BATCAVE while she kept tabs on BATMAN.

And if Constantine was trying desperately to avoid him, like he did all his exes…That little…

Jason had no idea what happened but as he got closer to his Pixie he could hear her muttering under her breath in French.  His French was a bit rusty so even the pieces he could pick up were scarce and nonsensical.  Something about maybe “lying” and “Roast Beef” and “bat” and “shark” and “fucking”.  He couldn’t be positive about any of the words except two; “fucking” and “bat” those he was pretty familiar with.  Not to brag but he could swear like a sailor in at least 7 languages.  And “bat”, he knew that word in a few more languages for obvious reasons.

She was abruptly moving and ran right into him before she could take notice of her surroundings.  She looked at Jason with wide eyes, reexamining the man she had spent the evening speaking and dancing with.  Suddenly, everything clicking into place.  There was one more hero she hadn’t accounted for, Red Hood, who while he hid his face behind a mask, just so happened to have the same towering build as Jason. But Bruce Wayne didn’t have any more kids, right?  And if the other vigilantes were his sons, Red Hood should be too, right?  He just had the three boys and the two girls who were out of town.  That was it.  He had another son, but that son had died.  What was his name… She gasped loudly, “Oh God! You’re Jason,” she exclaimed out loud.  

“Yeah?”  He said confused.  They’d been over this before.

“You’re Jason Todd,” she said looking down and taking slow breaths.  “You’re Bruce Wayne’s son.”

He looked at her startled.  She put that together quicker than he was expecting especially since she didn’t seem to know much about the family. “For what it’s worth, I don’t feel like his son most of the time,” he tried to joke.  “Sorry for not telling you before.  I don’t like talking about being in the family, or being in the family at all, actually.” He winced looking at her wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to get noticed by the Waynes. Shit!”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress… or that face… or that smile, Pixie.”  He said grinning suavely.  

She examined him for a few seconds, emotions flittering across her face almost too quickly to identify them.  Confusion, bashful, flattered, hopeful, guilt, pain, melancholy.

“I have to go.” She finally spoke up.

“Wait.  What?”

“I… I have to go”

“Wait, is it… you have to go because I’m Wayne’s son?”

“No, I… shit.  Putain de bâtard.” Yep, that one he understood too.  Wait... “Me?” He asked pointing to himself.

“No, not you… Not because you’re a Wayne, well kind of because you’re a Wayne.  It’s…” she faltered for a few seconds then muttered under her breath again “Je vais tuer cette putain de mère.”

“Wait, who is the mother fucker you’re talking about? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  I’m just going to kill a bitch when I get home.”

“Okay… Okay, first, that is a lot more swearing than I thought you were capable of and I’m extremely impressed… and turned on,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him and mumbled under her breath “you should have heard what was going on in my head”.  He raised his eyebrows at her suggestion.  “Okay, you’re making it really hard not to make out with you right now.” He watched proudly as her cheeks suddenly blazed red at his comment. Another point for him tonight.

“Second, if you’re just worried about Bruce finding out you were here, it never happened.  I never saw you.  You were never here,” he assured her.  Instead of calming her she seemed more panicked, eyes darting from the door to him. This seemed like more than just not wanting to get noticed.  She was into something and didn’t want to be.  “Or, if you’re in trouble, I can help.  You just need to tell me what is going on.  You don’t seem like you would willingly work with someone out to hurt others, so whatever it is, I’m sure you aren’t willingly doing it.  If it is something bad.  I just really have no idea what is going on right now and I would like you to tell me.” He continued earnestly, looking her in her eyes to make sure she understood how deathly serious he was about it.  If she needed help, he WOULD help her.  Even if he didn’t like her, which he really did, he was going to help put that smile back on her face.

She looked at him for another few moments opening her mouth slightly to say something then seemed to think better of it and closed it again.  She narrowed her eyes and looked away scanning the room as she thought about what to say and do next.  She seemed to come to a conclusion as she turned back to him and set her feet firmly on the ground.

“I never told you why I was here, did I?” Even before he shook his head she continued.  “I’m here to keep an eye on the Waynes.  On you, apparently.  Didn’t know you were back from the dead though, so I wasn’t looking out for you. Congratulations on that, by the way, you know, on the whole not being dead thing.  That’s really amazing.  I’m glad you can be around to enjoy life and laugh and be sarcastic and look at me with those eyes and look like that in a suit… probably even better out of it.”  She muttered the last part under her breath.

“I’d love to see you out of that dress, too.” He smiled smugly at her.

She huffed out a breath, cheeks reddening again, “Yeah, not happening.  I’m burning this dress as soon as I get out of here.”

“I can help you with that, too.  I like setting fires.  Two birds, one pyrotechnic.” He preened for a moment enjoying the flirting. Wait, less flirting, more focusing back on the more important part of her earlier speech.

“Wait, why are you keeping an eye on us?” he asked apprehensively.

“So I could warn my… associate if any of you left. So he could have plenty of time to… what is the best way to say this…” she looked up to the ceiling and took a deep steadying breath thinking about the words she wanted to use.  None of this was part of the plan. “…so he could have plenty of time to evacuate your… lair? No, lair makes you sound like villains… your illicit… cavern of, actually I don’t know if it is a cavern… and it isn’t really illicit, is it?  Well, actually I guess it kind of is, but that still makes it sound like you’re a villain…your underground… no, I don’t even know if it is underground… to evacuate your… uh… secret… base of… um, operations?”

“My what?” Jason demanded now more than a little concerned. “Who are you?”

“Nobody.  Absolutely nobody of consequence. And nobody who should be here right now.”  She turned to walk away before Jason stopped her.

“No.  You don’t get to say something like that then try to slink away like nothing happened. Come on, we’re going to go talk to some people,” he said grabbing her arm a bit harder than strictly necessary and dragging her towards his brothers and Bruce.  She definitely figured out who they all were or at least who Bruce was and that they knew too, which put her in danger, and she was working with someone to break into the Batcave, which put them all in danger.  Everything about this situation was dangerous and bad and they needed to talk to the family to figure out the best next steps.

Marinette dug her heels into the ground pulling against him, a really bad idea considering how high her heels were. Instead of stopping him she stumbled into his chest allowing him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said squirming to get out of his embrace. “This is between you guys.  I have neither the desire nor the interest to get involved in this little lover’s spat.  I have more important things to be doing right now.  Things that asshole was supposed to be doing instead of pulling practical jokes.”

“Jokes?  What do you mean jokes?  What the fuck is going on?”  He looked at her again.  She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t gloating, she wasn’t even nervous.  She was annoyed verging on enraged.  

“Nothing you need to worry about, Red.” She threw in the moniker at him to get him to back down.  She knew how important secret identities were, and how finding out someone knew yours could throw you off your game.  She felt a bit of guilt as she used that knowledge against him but this was no longer fun.  Now this was infuriating.  John was playing games with his former lover, or current lover, whatever Bruce was to him, instead of just helping.  He was taking time she didn’t want to spend, time the people of Paris should not have to wait.  They had spent weeks planning this when he could have just walked in and asked for the information.  They had wasted so much time.

“I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This.  This is not a joke.  This is not some gag for you overgrown children to play at,” she said hitting her finger into his chest with each word.  “I have people in need relying on me.  I have children counting on me. Parents counting on me.  Single people, who also deserve to live just as much as everyone else, counting on me and all suffering while they wait.  I. Am. Done.  And I am leaving”

Jason listened to her shocked.  Something was happening and he had absolutely no idea what, but somehow they were involved.  He hated not knowing what was going on.  Apparently children were suffering because of all of this and he didn’t know why.  But, he was going to figure it out.  She was right.  They did not have time for this.  Whatever was going on, they were going to help.  He turned away loosening his grip on her waist to just laying his arm on her instead of encircling her.  He touched his hand to his ear to activate the com hidden inside, “Tim, can you check the security video for the uh… our base of operations?”

It appeared that Tim was giving Jason some resistance because Jason turned away even further and started yell whispering threats into the air.  He was trying to be as discrete as possible in the crowded room, which normally wouldn’t be such a concern but there was a group of dancers headed their way, just leaving the dance floor after the song ended.  Marinette took advantage of his distraction and the sudden cover to twist away from him and slip into the crowd.

Jason called after her and tried to grasp her arm but missed her.  He searched for her but the crowd was too thick, having had to bottleneck to get past the tables surrounding the dance floor.  He scanned the crowd for her twisted hair or the black dress, but couldn’t see her in the group.  She had effectively disappeared, but if she went into the crowd, she would have to come out and cross the dancefloor in order to leave.  He could just wait for her on the other side of the group and keep an eye on the dancefloor.  He moved to go around the table, but that side was just as crowded so he did the only rational, discrete thing he could in the situation, he slid across the top of the table landing on the dancefloor and waited to grab her there, but she never came out.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

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Marinette had a habit of catastrophizing.  She knew this.  Everyone who knew her knew this.  She thought of all of the worst case scenarios and tried to plan for them. Generally, it was a wasted effort that did little more than stress her out and annoy her teammates.  Today, however, today it paid off.  She had anticipated having to make a quick escape and once she decided it was time to go, she put her escape plan into action. Freeing herself from Jason, she pulled off her belt before even getting to the crowd.  As she entered the crowd of people, she pulled out her hair pin, letting her hair fall down.  She didn’t even have to hunch down much at all to disappear into the crowd as she weaved her way through them.  One advantage to being short.  She ran her left hand through her hair tousling it so her long raven hair cascaded around her shoulders.  With her right hand, she yanked at the cowl neckline of her dress, allowing the fabric overlay to drop forming a floor length skirt, revealing the bodice of her now red Harlow inspired dress that had been hidden underneath.  Her new dress hugged her body until it reached her hips then fell freely.  

Finally, she reached into her red purse, removed her phone, the cookie for Tikki, and Kaalki’s glasses, nodded to Tikki, turned her purse inside out revealing a now black purse with red detailing, and returned her phone, glasses, cookie, hairpin, and belt into it, leaving plenty of room for Tikki. The entire change took all of 10 seconds.  By the time she would walk out of the crowd, she would be completely unrecognizable, at least by anyone who didn’t already know her.  Unless that is, if they were looking for someone moving against the tide of people.  That would be a dead giveaway.  So instead, she pivoted and moved with the crowd instead of against it, parting with them after a few tables and moving laterally toward the exit.

Marinette made her way to the exit quickly, but not quickly enough to draw attention to herself.  She needed to get to Constantine before the “bat family”, as her research had called them, got to him.  They had reasons for keeping other superheroes out of Paris and she had no interest in having that particular awkward and slightly guilt laden (stupid gorgeous blue eyes she wanted to get lost in) conversation with them.  Especially when she was this utterly livid with Constantine, which was another reason she was rushing.  She needed to get to him so she could beat the asshole out of him. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this, and not in a way he would enjoy.  

She was angry and frustrated and guilty and grieved. She knew Jason didn’t deserve for her to snap at him like she had but she had been too frustrated to hold back and he was part of the problem.  She had been having fun with Jason.  She had been enjoying bantering with him and looking into his eyes.  She had really, really been enjoying having him look at her like she was the most interesting thing in Gotham and having him hold her closer than he had to while they danced.  And now it was gone.  She was a hero and he was a vigilante so he had to be kept at a distance.  A 3,670 mile distance to be precise, well approximate.

She was just about to cross through the exit when a voice stopped her.

“Hey,” a woman with short black hair and green eyes called out to her.  Marinette slowed down weighing the risk of just blowing her off vs the risk of stopping. She decided ignoring her might lead to the woman calling after her, which would bring unwanted attention, which she wanted to avoid.  Stopping seemed the safer answer.  As long as she didn’t look back at the gala or do anything else that might incriminate herself, she would be able to get away without any awkward conversations or fights.

“Yes” she answered with a strained smile.

“I saw that little quick change back there,” the woman responded.  Marinette’s eyes widened in panic.  Before anxiety could start going over all the worst case scenarios her mind could come up with, she was already in the midst of one of them in real life she really didn’t need to start thinking of worse things to add to it, the woman continued, nonchalantly scanning the people at the gala, “don’t worry, I’m not going to out you.  I just might have occasion to use a quick change myself from time to time, so I was hoping you might share where you got your dress.”  She shot Marinette a wicked smile.  ”Just because you’re hustling doesn’t mean you can’t look killer doing it.”

Marinette relaxed minutely and gave her a small smile, “it’s called MDC Designs.  She’s online. What’s your name so she’ll know who to look out for?”

“Thanks kitten.  I appreciate it.”  She said never looking back at Marinette.  “Selina.  Selina Kyle. I’d say nice to meet you, but we never met, did we?”

Marinette smiled to herself as she walked out the door. Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss. Hopefully, Constantine got the information they needed, she’ll get to punch his smug face as soon as she sees him, and she’ll get a new client.  Guess Adrien was right about showcasing her design after all.  He must never know.  Not such a bad night at all.

 Chapter 2

 Tag:

@fsketchart @jasonette-july-2k20

[bananamuffinspecial]

Bruce Wayne’s skin care routine

Listen, this idea hasn’t left me alone for almost a week now so this is me pouring my thoughts out.

Bruce has definitely got a skin care routine. Don’t fight me on this one. Make up, while great for hiding bruises and dark circles under the eyes can only do so much to make him look fresh and well-rested. Which is how ‘Brucie’ is expected to be, you know, being a playboy.

It would be a rather simple one though.

Maybe just constantly washing his face to keep it clean because lets be honest, Gotham isn’t the cleanest city out there. And ofc there’s all the grime, body fluids, etc that result of fighting crime and that not only stick to his suit but somehow manage to get all over him.

Also wearing the cowl for prologued periods has gotta irritate his skin, no matter how many modifications he makes to ensure it’s more comfortable and breathable (as a cowl’s gonna get anyway). Especially in the summer with the rise in temperature and humidity. The mix of sweat, dirt and more-often-than-not blood, rubbing against his face will often leave his skin itchy.

Then he’d also apply moisturizer and will always, always, wear sunscreen because he burns easily. Once he went to the inauguration of one of WE’s projects and had to stand on a barren field for 2 hours in direct sunlight with just a bright yellow helmet (which ofc did close to nothing against the sun). Needless to say, he came back to the Manor with the top of his nose, ears and cheekbones with a red hue and tender to the touch. Alfred took care of that light sunburn and ever since won’t let Bruce out of the house if he’s not protected against UVA and UVB.

Occasionally, he’ll use a face mask as well. Particularly when he works on tough cases and thus has been running on less than 3 hrs of sleep and ‘power naps’ (which don’t actually count as sleeping but don’t tell that to Bruce, he’ll just glare at you and probably doze off right after. Ask Clark, he’ll confirm it). Also under-eye patches are a quick solution when he must attend some social event as they help reduce puffiness and dampen dark circles. In that case he’ll also apply some make up cause there’s no reason for ‘Brucie’ to look that weary, even if he’d gone on a partying spree and was suffering from a hell of a hangover.

All the products he uses are def custom-made.

Now, this isn’t specific to any continuity, I just had this image in my head. I can picture that during the early days of the JL (around the time where they knew each other’s identities but it was still kinda awkward seeing others out of costume) someone, Barry was probably the first, bumped into Bruce in the Watchtower/Hall of Justice. He would still be in full Batman gear except for the cowl, which was pulled back, and he’d be wearing these golden under-eye patches. It took a minute for Barry to process what he was seeing. Others had a similar experience, but the initial shock wore off rather quickly. It became a common sight after that, particularly in the private rooms area.

[thesameasbe4]

One More Night in Siberia

*Bucky and first person reader.

I mumbled one more “thank you” in my terrible Russian as I closed the door on the intrusive host. Had I not been so tired and sore I would have realized that it was not strange of the owner of the Inn to be suspicious of two people banging on the door in the middle of a blizzard, with no vehicle, in Siberia. But I was too tired - so I just trudged into the room after Bucky and sank to the floor. After a few moments to gather my wits I began looked about the small space. There was an old iron coil heater in the corner on the far side of the room so I rose with a groan and went to examine it. After poking around I found the pilot light was out so I rifled through the bug out bad we had been sharing and pulled out a pack of matches. Soon the ancient coil was creaking and groaning but getting warmer.

Next I turned to Bucky. He had put on a brave face when negotiating for the room, but now he was white as a sheet and stared ahead blankly. “Hold on, Buck,” I murmured to him as I stripped him out of his freezing clothes. I could see fresh blood stains on his undershirt as I pulled that off too, swallowing hard. The bullet wound had not hit any vital organs, just grazed his lower left side, but we had been on the run for a week now and I was worried it was getting infected. There was no bathroom in the room so I slipped outside with our small cooking pot and collected some snow. Returning unnoticed by the innkeeper, I set the pot on the heater to melt.

It had been too long since either of us had had a warm shower and even a heated basin of water was better than anything we should expect. After cleaning his wound and a swallow of whiskey for each of us, Bucky was sitting up again, propped against a wall. I gently ran a bandanna soaked in the warm water over his torso and face. The room was quite toasty now, but Bucky was still shivering. I reached down to feel the leg of his pants and sighed, realizing they were also soaked through. Carefully, I undid them and slid them off his legs, spreading them flat on the ground to dry close to the heat. I then pulled the reindeer skins off the small bed in the corner of the room and tucked them around him, I hadn’t the energy to try to move him to the bed. He was closer to the heater this way.

It was just a few hours till the chopper would meet us here, but Buck didn’t look good. I suspected his wound was becoming infected, he wasn’t losing much blood anymore, so that wasn’t the reason for his pallid skin and he would going through waves of chills. He began to shake again and I could no longer see anything but a cold, sad boy. Coaxing his large frame to lean forward, I managed to slip behind him, straddling his shaking body with my legs. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tight. “Buck?” I murmured into his ear.

“Yea,” he groaned with much effort.

“I need you to stay awake for me, Bucky. Do you understand?”

“Mmh,” he groaned again, his flesh arm squeezing my ankle. I couldn’t help but lean into him further, while flinching internally as I thought of how we would explain this away when he had his wits about him again.

We passed the hours together by telling stories. I talked about the yellow plastic slide in my back yard growing up. How I had tried about a dozen times to spend a whole night in the tree house my father built but would always come inside when it got dark because I thought a raccoon would sit on my face in the middle of the night. Bucky smiled at that, his light laughter reverberating down his back. Bucky talked about growing up in the city, about the best rooftop view of New York and promised we would visit it together one day. I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see them.

“Always the playboy aren’t you?” I teased light heartedly.

Bucky reached around and grabbed my free hand, pulling it to him and placing it on his bare chest. “No, you are too precious to be an object for a playboy,” he said cryptically. I shook it off as a symptom of his fever, though I left my hand where he placed it, kneading his clammy chest gently as he continued to talk, the deep vibrations of his voice making their way to my palm.

A while later, lights on the horizon flashed the signal to let us know it was our ride out of here. I helped Bucky dress and we stumbled out of the droopy little building into the vast white world. Two uniforms met us half way and I gratefully handed Bucky off to them.

…

Several days passed and Bucky and I were recovering well from the mission. I had thought I was going to lose a few toes to frost bite but managed to pull through with all my body parts still attached. Bucky’s infected wound was now on the mend. His side was still tender though he would never admit that.

I looked up from my book at a tap on my door. “Enter!” I said not looking up.

“Hey,” said a low voice from my door.

“What up,” I replied, trying not to seem excited to see him.

“Well, I ordered too much Chinese and you haven’t eaten yet,” he said.

“You have just said two statements, you now need to combine them into a cohesive question,” I said flatly. It had been a frustrating day.

“Okay, as a hungry person, do you think I should share my food with Steve or just eat it all myself?”

I threw a pen at him, which he caught gracefully in mid air. “It would have hit you in the forehead,” I mumbled.

Walking the rest of the way into my room, he placed a full plastic bag on my desk, the delicious smells of fried rice and dumplings seeping into the space. Then he moved to stand behind my desk chair, placing his warm hands on my shoulders. He began to knead the knots in my back. I closed my book and leaned into his touch, trying hard not to moan.

“You know I never properly thanked you for dragging my ass out of Siberia,” he said. I turned to look at him.

“You don’t have to, it’s what partners do,” I replied.

“I know, but you are an exceptional partner.” I waved a hand at him in dismissal but he caught it, and pulled me up to stand in front of him, so close we were almost touching. Then, he placed my hand on his chest again, just like he had done that night in Siberia. I looked up at his face and was startled by his glittering grey-blue eyes.

As if by a force outside of my control, I raised my hands to his face and pulled him down to meet my lips. I was sure he would pull away, make an awkward excuse and duck out, but that’s not what he did. No, he wound his hands around my hips, pulling me in tighter.

His lips were firm against mine, insistent as they explored my mouth, jaw and neck. His metal arm, a shock of cold on my lower back at first, was warming from contact with my heated skin. I was taken aback by his eagerness, surprised and I was more tentative to respond to him, my arm snaking up between us to grab a handful of his shirt. I pressed against his chest, coaxing him away from me gently, and despite the need I sensed in his tense muscles, he moved away just enough for me to shiver as the cool air of the room buffered against me in the places where I had adjusted to Bucky’s body heat. Bucky nuzzled my neck with his stubble questioningly.

“Hey now, the food is getting cold,” I laughed as he continued to cling to me even as I began to unpack the bag of food he had forgotten on my desk. “I’m gonna eat your egg roll if you don’t back off,” I threatened.

…

The lo mein sat heavy in my stomach as I reran our kiss from earlier in the day. I was still at my computer, but I hadn’t gotten anything done in the past hour. Sighing, I rose and headed for the shower. The steam and heat were divine, I never took luxuries like hot water for granted anymore since I had been in so many situations without such things. I stood there in the shower for much too long, till I was bright red and the water started to get cool again. Finally I switched it off and stepped out of the bathroom in a towel.

I was stepping into some comfy sweats as an old melody drifted into my room. I cocked my head and smiled. Bucky, the boy displaced by time, was playing his records from the 40’s again. Returning to my closet, I pulled out a simple, modest knee length black dress as I ran my hand thoughtfully through my drying hair. A few minutes later I caught the image of myself in the mirror as I pulled on a pair of pantyhose, no time for an elaborate hair do, but it was my best efforts at 1940s fashion on a time crunch. Tugging on a pair of matching heels, I clicked down the hall lightly towards the haunting sounds of the record. The door opened before I could knock, super soldier and all, it was hard to catch Bucky by surprise.

“Need a partner?” I asked as I raised my hands, offering to dance with him. He smiled broadly as his gaze swept down my figure and then back up to my face. Gently he stepped closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, drawing me further into the room and kicking the door closed with his foot. We moved slowly together, inching closer and closer to one another like two magnets, the lazy jazz luring us into the fantasy of a crowded dance floor. Finally I laid my head on his shoulder. We didn’t say anything, we were partners. He knew what I needed and I knew what he was thinking.

[with-love-anu]

Over a cup of coffee

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius falls for you as you start coming to their coffee shop regularly 

Warnings: A fluffy one-shot! No warnings to give ;)

Word Count: 1,912

Sirius groggily started to set up the coffee shop. As much as he loved making artisan coffee, getting up at 6am was always a nightmare. James was beside him, wiping the counter and Remus was gone to the market to get fresh whole milk, bacon and eggs.

Their college time had been amazing but they all had come to the conclusion that they liked the simpler things in life. James had the money; Sirius made the most excellent coffee, Remus baked mouth watering pastries and James had been making the best sandwiches for them since childhood. They opened up a small barista located at the peak point of the city (near colleges, offices) named the “The Marauders’ Eatery”; which had become quite famous through the years. The store opened at 8 and by 9am it bustled with life.

As the day progressed, the crowd got thinner and the boys finally got the time to breathe. Sirius sighed cleaning the mixer.

“Think Marlene will drop by today?” James asked wriggling his eyebrows and Sirius groaned. Over time, the shop had gained quite many patrons. That included some girls who would gush at one of them so very obviously. Marlene was one of the girls who constantly flirted with him. He did not know how he could ever make her understand that he was not interested in her. She couldn’t take a hint.

“Shove off James, go back to thinking how you would impress Lily because we are not giving her any more free coffee!”

“Ah-“James started but someone came to the counter.

“Hello, what can I get you?” Sirius asked with his customary smile. Shit, she was beautiful.

“Can I get a large iced-coffee. Dark. And the banana walnut muffin?”

“Of-course, your name?”

“(Y/n)” she said smiling and Sirius felt his heart flutter.

“Please have a seat, and we’ll call you when your order is up.” Sirius said, moving to do the order.

“Thank you.” She said and moved to sit down.

James raised an eyebrow at Sirius.

“What?”

“You find her cute, don’t you?” he asked and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“She’s okay.” He said, pouring the iced drink in a big cup and placing it on a tray with the muffin and some napkins.

“(Y/n)!!!” he called out as she paid and took the tray from him, thanking him again.

Sirius bit his lip. He constantly sneaked glances at her as she continued to work on her I-pad. She had her headphones on and worked in utmost concentration. She would bite her lip or run a hand through her hair occasionally. Remus snickered at him and he told him off and couldn’t help but blush. (Y/n) looked utterly adorable. She would come up a few times to order something and was incredibly polite each time.

It was almost 8 and James and Remus dealt with their last customers. Sirius straightened his apron and went towards (Y/n), gently patting on her shoulder. She looked up and removed her headphones.

“Can I get you something else? We are closing soon.” Sirius asked. She looked down at her watch and gasped.

“Oh my god! It’s almost 8. No, I don’t want anything else. And thank you for being so welcoming today, your coffee’s the best!” she said and Sirius smiled widely.

“Thank you and you’re welcome here every day.”

As she left the store he heard a clap and turned around to find his best friends smirking at him.

“The girl who Sirius thinks is ‘okay’” James said as Remus grinned.

“Oh and she is ‘welcome here every day’”

“Shove off both of you! That might be the last time she came here, she was just being polite.” He said and James scoffed.

“Doesn’t answer our question.”

***

To Sirius’s pleasant surprise that was in fact not the last time you came to the shop. You started coming to their barista every day, sitting at a corner and working. You drank coffee and tried different bakery products and some of the weirder sandwiches too, much to James delight.

“So, what prompted you all to start this barista?” you said as James worked around.

“Basically we used to be those college students who needed coffee to survive and whatever baristas there were, were either too expensive or the coffee was just too poor. Sirius bought a coffee machine after some time and started making way too excellent coffee.”

“That’s me!” Sirius called out and you giggled.

“Yeah, and I used to make all these midnight snacks for us three, so we just got the idea and did it.” James said as he handed you his newest bacon sandwich.

“Well, I am glad you did, because this place is amazing. The sandwiches too!” You said to the three of them bowed dramatically. You laughed shaking your head at their antics and went to sit at your spot continuing to edit the cover for the new comic.

You yawned and stretched taking a break from drawing. There was a tap on your shoulder and you looked to see Sirius, who offered you some coffee. You raised your eyebrows and he shrugged gesturing towards the seat in front of you.

“Yes, of course.” You said and he sat down in front of you.

“So, I always see you on your I-pad, what do you work on?”

“I actually design comic books for the Bachpan’s convention.” You said taking a sip of the coffe. God it tasted good.

“Bachpan?”

“So basically that’s an organization that researches on child’s behavior and how to help them build better personalities. The comics I make are based on the very same research.”

“Oooh. That’s cool. How do you do it?”

“Subtle references. Most children are driven by desire; they want something or the other. So, we create a very innocent character, which is seemingly just like them and starts to do things their parents warn them against. It helps with the ‘learn by making mistakes’.  And then we show them the consequences of doing that. I try not to incorporate a character speaking out the morale directly, so as for the children to figure it out themselves.”

“Can I see some?” he asked. His eyes were so bright right, you were sure you could have said yes to anything he requested.

You showed him your latest work and he laughed at how funny the characters were. Slowly, the conversation shifted and you talked about yourself and your life and Sirius told you how he had a temperament for arts before. You found yourself smiling and listening attentively as he rambled. He was charming. You couldn’t deny that. Those people whom you saw gushing over him had a reason. But there was so much more to him. He was extremely perceptive and intuitive. He was funny, in a very natural way.

“Oi Sirius!” you looked over to Remus who smiled at you. “Get your ass over here; you’ve been talking for over an hour.”

Your eyes widened. Did you really? Your cheeks flushed and you looked at Sirius, who slowly got up.

“Pretty, how time flies, right?” he said and you nodded.

“Well, I had good company.” You said as Sirius’s face erupted in a loopy grin.

***

Sirius and you started sitting and talking every day after that. Sometimes James and Remus joined you two, sometimes they didn’t. You got to know more and more about them. They may think they were they cool and stuff, but according to you, they were the sweetest, nerdiest group ever.

“So, like Sirius used to be the bad boy, playboy-“ James said as you all sat together on one of their breaks.

“Wait, playboy?” you said cocking an eyebrow at Sirius. Sirius flushed.

“Well, I liked sex, don’t blame me!” he said and you giggled.

And somehow, you saw yourself falling for Sirius. You couldn’t point your finger on when or how it happened, it just did. You found your heart fluttering when he flirted with you, your stomach bounced when he winked at you. You couldn’t help it.

Sirius was frustrated. He had started liking you, a lot. He had no idea how to tell you. ‘(Y/n) I love how cute you are and want to take you out on a date.’ Well, that did sound quite okay, but how was he to ask? He always became a blubbering mess whenever he came close to talk to you about liking you. You made him nervous.

There was a ring behind him and he turned enthusiastically, expecting it to be you. He couldn’t be more wrong. Marlene. She came to him with an extra sway of her hips and he winced. He forced a smile.

“Good Morning! What can I get you?”

“Oh Sirius, don’t act like we don’t know each other. Okay, what about you make me whatever you want to today? You know I like everything you do.” She cooed and Sirius stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

He went to work on an espresso and heard someone else come in.

“Hey, Sirius!” your voice came and he turned around excitedly. “Can I get my usual coffee and the cake Remus said he’ll bake today?”

“Of-course!” he said as you sighed, standing at the counter. You did not notice the woman standing beside you glaring at you.

“So did you guys watch it?” you asked referring to the movie, you lent them a day before.

“Oh yeah, it was fantastic! Thank you for recommending it.” he said placing Marlene’s order on the counter, giving her the bill. Sirius noticed how she hadn’t her eyes off you, judging your every move.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Marlene asked and you turned.

“I’m-“

“She’s my girlfriend!” Sirius interrupted and you looked at him wide eyed. You weren’t the only one.

“What?!?” Marlene demanded. Sirius pleaded you with his eyes and you huffed. Fine, you’d play along.

“She’s my girlfriend. Marlene, (Y/n). (Y/n), Marlene.” He gestured between the two of you and you gave her a smile. She shot daggers at you in return. She paid Sirius looking at him in a sickening sweet smile and huffed out of the store. You raised an eyebrow at Sirius.

“She wouldn’t leave me alone!” he whined and you let a little smile play on your lips.

“And the only way to get out of it seemed to be calling me your girlfriend?” you mused and Sirius blushed.

“Well, I mean we two would be quite believable a couple. You are cute and funny and smart and you are someone I want to take out on a date. I mean I LOVE TO. I MEAN I WOULD. HYPOTHETICALLY. I-” he ranted and you found yourself loving the red mess he had become into.

“Sirius.”

“Sirius.”

“SIRIUS!” you said and he finally stopped.

“There’s a new restaurant open just down the street. I hear the food is mouth watering. Would you like to go with me there tonight?”

Sirius’s eyes widened and you regretted the bout of confidence you were overcome with.

“Like on a date?” he asked and you nodded, gulping. Please don’t say no.

“I would love too.” He said as he started making you a big cup of dark iced coffee. As Sirius gave you the drink and a muffin the two of you smiled at each other. And years later, when people asked you two about your love story your reply was, “Over a cup of coffee.”

A/N: This was written for Riley’s ( @wreckofawriter ) Cliched Month Writing Challenge. Let me know what you think!