#so shut the fuck up leave me alone and worry about your own shit. this shit is not worth the fucking effort. not for $11.50 an hour.

[mattsnight]

Summary: in which Chris can’t hide his feelings for Y/N any longer.

Warnings: cursing !!

WC: 5k+++

Chris hated how he felt for you. The extreme feelings were overwhelming and it was hard keeping them together. He couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t live knowing you were his best friend and that nothing would ever happen with the two of you.

You were always the clingy kind of type. You couldn’t be alone for more than 24 hours and always had to be with someone who you loved. Most of the times it was Chris, which he didn’t mind at first, but when his feelings for you started, it all became a lot.

You came over to the triplets’ house today, since Chris hasn’t been answering your calls. You were really worried about him. When you walked into the house you were met with an angry Chris. He didn’t want you here at all. He didn’t want to talk. It hurt him to do this shit to you, but he needed these feelings gone. And there it was, he was bottling up all his feelings and is now taking it out on you.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you?” You say to Chris as he just ignored you when you tried giving him a simple hug. He never did this, he would always hug you even when he was annoyed. He lets out a huff, rubbing his eyes as he glances in your direction.

"Me? Nothing is wrong with me, I'm absolutely fine. It's you, you're just always around being clingy, I can't even breathe without you being all over me. Seriously, do you have to be so clingy? Give me a break every once in a while," Chris bites back with a roll of his eyes. A small gasp leaves your mouth at his sudden anger. “What the hell happened to you, chris? At first you’re all nice and sweet to me and now you’re acting like a huge dick.”

Chris grits his teeth, turning to look you in the eyes a lot sharper than usual. "So now it's wrong that I've decided to give myself a break from your clinginess? Is that a crime now?" He quips, raising a brow at you unimpressed. "God, you're always so needy, you can't even go half a day without wanting my attention. Have you ever considered that maybe I'd want alone time?”

“I was giving you one hug, chris. I wasn’t sat on your lap touching your chest while waiting for you to fuck me!” You yell back, anger now running through your body. Chris is visibly taken aback by your words, the harsh bite of them makes his chest ache, but he can't focus on that right now. He lets out an annoyed huff, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. "You always hug me!" He points out, throwing his arms out. "Like, it's never just one hug, you're always all over me, no matter if we're alone or in public. It's like you can't stand the thought of not being attached to me or something!"

“Im not always hugging you! I was so excited to see you, is one hug that bad?” You say, running your hands through your hair. "And there it is again, the excuses!" Chris exclaims in annoyance. "You're always all over me, you've gotta touch me. You know I'm not the biggest fan of physical touch, so why are you always so clingy with me, huh, can you answer that?" He asks, raising a brow at you with an expectant expression on his face.

“Because we’re friends? Cus i enjoy being with you? Because maybe im trying to get our friendship back!” Yeah, that one hurt. It had been a while since you and Chris had hung out. At first you thought it was because he got a girlfriend, but he didn’t, Nick told you that.

"And you need to cling to me to do that? You need to be attached to me at all times to do that, is that it?" Chris asks, clearly still frustrated and a little on edge. "It's annoying. I'm allowed to want my own goddamn space every once in a while, why's that so hard for you to understand? I just want a little space to breathe, alone, without having you sticking yourself to me like glue."

Fuck, why did it have to go like this? You hated this and you knew he did too. There was hurt smashed on both of your faces, but the both of you didn’t stop. “Then tell me to shut up, leave and never come back!” You say, a voice crack slipping through. Chris's eyes widen slightly, his mouth going slightly agape at your words, his heart beating loud in his chest. He did not see that coming. "What?" He asks, a hint of surprise sneaking into his voice. “Tell me to leave, end our friendship and do whatever the fuck you want without me.” You repeat with a voice crack.

Chris's jaw clenches, his chest feels tight and his stomach sinks at your words. Every fibre of his being wanted to scream at you to shut up, to stay with him forever. He did not want you gone, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to tell you. "I don't want-" he tries to protest, swallowing hard and averting his gaze. "I don't want that."

“Then what do you want, Chris?!”

"You!" His eyes widen the moment the word escapes his mouth, he didn't mean to say that, he meant to say anything other than that. He clamps his mouth shut, staring at you with a mix of shock and frustration. “What?” You say quietly, not believing that you heard him right.

"I- nothing, I... nothing, forget I said that," he runs his fingers through his hair, cursing himself inwardly. This did not get better. "I just... I think, maybe, we should just have some time apart for a while. Take some space, I'll be fine without you glued to my side, you'll be fine without me around all the time." His voice stays the same, not even a slight change.

“You said me.. chris.. what does that mean?”

"I said nothing, alright?" Chris snaps, trying to cover up his slip of the tongue, but it was too late. He couldn't lie his way out of this now. He lets out a huff, scrubbing his face with his hand, looking at you with a frustrated expression on his face. "Damnit... you weren't supposed to hear that."

You take a small step back at his snap. It wasn’t because you were scared, you wanted to give him space. His expression softens just the slightest as he sees you take a step back, his heart panging in his chest as he registers the hurt in your eyes. He shakes his head in defeat. "No, I... Damnit, I can't... Look, I can't do this right now." He runs a hand through his hair again, turning his back to you and walking a few moments. Clearly he was frustrated and upset about the whole situation. “Chris—“ you try, but he doesn’t want to talk.

"Just don’t." He bites, his voice low as he keeps his back turned to you. He clearly wasn't in the mood to keep the conversation going. He was upset, and in pain, and he knew he was hurting you as well. He didn't want to hurt you, but he knew he was, and that was so much worse in his mind. “Please just talk to me, Chris. I want to understand what is going on.”

"What is there to talk about, huh?" Chris turns to look at you again, eyes sharp and his muscles coiled tight with tension. "What are we supposed to talk about? I said something I wasn't supposed to, I can't take it back, so what do you want me to say? I don't want to talk about it, not like this, not right now."

He is still staring at you, his expression pained and frustrated. It was like he was trying to hold back so many things, trying desperately to keep them all at bay and yet they were so obvious on his face. "And what was that little stunt anyway, huh? Trying to get a reaction out of me, is that it? Well great, you got one. You did what you set out to do, I screwed up. I said something I shouldn't have said. Happy?"

Your eyes start filling up with pain. It wasn’t your intention to do this. You didn’t mean any of it, you just wanted a reason why you’re losing your best friend. Chris's heart clenches within his chest at the sight of your hurt expression. The sharp pang of guilt and regret hits him hard, but it doesn't stop him from continuing. "You wanted a reaction, and you got it. I'm human. Do you think you can just prod and poke at me all the time and I won't snap back?" He bites, narrowing his eyes at you despite the panging in his heart. “Im sorry, okay?…” you say.

"You're sorry, is that it? You're sorry?” Chris snaps, taking a step closer as he towers over you. His face is a mixture of anger and pain, despite the growing guilt at the expression on your face. “You're sorry? Great, that just fixes everything, doesn't it? You didn't mean to make me snap, didn't mean to prod and poke at me until I exploded, but that's fine because you're sorry now, right?" All his anger is aimed at you when you just tried to fix something broken. You don’t dare to speak, scared you’ll ruin it even more.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought," he continues, his voice still sharp and bitter. "You can apologise all you want but it's not gonna change the fact that you got exactly what you wanted out of me. You pushed me to the limit, and you got a reaction. So don't bother apologising, it's too late for that." He says, letting out a frustrated huff while scrubbing his face with his hand as anger and guilt clash together in his mind. He wants to yell at you, wants to scream at you and let it all out, but at the same time the sight of your hurt expression is killing him. "Goddamnit.." he mutters under his breath, running his fingers roughly through his hair.

“I should go home.. this isn’t gonna work.” You finally say, breaking the silence. "Yeah... maybe you should," Chris responds, but the moment the words escape his mouth he wishes he could take them back. His heart is panging against his chest, his stomach clenches with guilt at the idea of you leaving. He didn't want you to go anywhere, he wanted to talk to you, he wanted you to not look so hurt and upset, but he'd gone and made it all worse in his anger.

You grab your bag quickly after his respond, ready to leave. Chris can’t take this anymore, he needs to make this right. He needs to talk to you. His heart drops to his stomach as you reach for your bag, the reality of the situation hitting him hard as he watches you get ready to leave. "Just... just wait," he says suddenly, the words slipping out before he can even think about it. "Please don't go. I... shit.”

He falters, his breath catching as he tries to find the right words. "I... look, just... just sit down, alright?" He asks, his voice suddenly much softer and more vulnerable than before. He wanted you to stay. He couldn't stand the thought of you leaving right now, he needed you to stay. He swallows hard, forcing out the next words as his heart pounds in his chest. "Please just... just sit down. We need to talk, not like this. Just... just sit down and listen to me. Please."

“Why does this all have to be so difficult?” You ask, sitting down on the couch to listen to him. "I don't know!" Chris exclaims, frustration and annoyance rising in his voice again. Why does it have to be so difficult? He should've just kept his mouth shut in the first place, he'd made a huge mess and he knew it. "I don't know why it has to be so... so difficult." He repeats, softer this time. "I don't... I just don't know." He scrubs his face with his hand, gritting his teeth and taking a deep, calming breath.

“What happened between us?” You ask, wanting answers. Chris's heart pang's in his chest again at your question. A million answers could've come to his mind, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Instead, he clenches his jaw, sighing deeply and shaking his head. "I don't know," he repeats again, his frustration growing. "I... I don't know, things just... changed."

He runs his fingers through his hair, raking his brain for the right words to say, the right way to explain things without saying too much. "I can't explain it. Things just... look, it's just so complicated." He glances at you, his expression a mixture of pain and confusion. He looks away again quickly, sighing heavily and shaking his head. "Things just aren't how they used to be. Something changed... and it's all wrong now."

“Does it have anything to do with you saying that you want.. me?”

Chris visibly tenses, his breathing catching in his chest as the memory of his earlier words comes back to him. He swallows hard and nods, his heart thudding against his ribcage. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice strained. "It has... everything to do with that." He says before looking up at you again, his expression pained and his eyes full of anguish. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he explains, his voice cracking slightly. "I didn't... I didn't mean for you to hear that. I didn't want you to know."

“But you said it, what does it mean?”

Chris takes a deep breath, his heart thudding so hard in his chest it's all he can hear. He knew he was in too deep now, there was no backing out. "It means exactly what you think it means," he mutters, his voice low and heavy. "I... I want you. I want you." He couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth, but now they were out there in the open and he couldn't take them back. His eyes search your face, looking for a reaction, a response, any sign of how you felt at his words, but he couldn't find it. "I... I want you," he repeats, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion. "I've wanted you for a long time, and it's been killing me. I... I've messed it up, I know I've messed it up and I can't take it back, but it's the truth. I want you. I need you."

“Jesus christ, Chris.. we could’ve talked about this sooner without that arguing.” You groan as waves of mixed feelings wash over you. Chris lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he runs his hands through his hair again. "You think I wanted to argue with you? This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I didn't want to deal with this, I didn't want to admit this." He sighs deeply, his heart panging in his chest as he meets your gaze. "I'm an idiot," he mutters, his voice quiet. "I just ruined everything, didn't I?"

“No chris— god.. i am in love with you too.”

Chris's heart stops in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as your words wash over him, a rush of emotions surging through him at your confession. His eyes widen, his heart thudding so hard against his ribcage he's sure you can hear it. He just stares at you for a moment, like his brain isn't quite comprehending what he's just heard. "You... what?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, chris..” you say. Those three words hit Chris like a ton of bricks, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending his heart into overdrive. He didn't think he'd ever hear those words from anyone, especially not from you. His expression softens, a mix of surprise and wonder and disbelief on his face as he takes a cautious step towards you, like he's afraid he might shatter whatever fragile dream he's suddenly found himself in. "You... you mean that?" He asks, his voice hoarse and low.

“Yes! I have for a long time, but i didn’t know how to feel when you just.. stopped talking to me.”

A wave of emotions washes over Chris at your words. Relief, joy, disbelief, excitement. He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes another step closer to you. "You... you love me?" He repeats, his voice a little shaky as he tries to process everything. "You love me?" He takes one more step towards you, his expression full of hope and awe. You look up at him, noticing he was already staring at you. His blue eyes are searching your face for any sign of dishonesty or deception. Instead, all he sees is love, and a whole lot of it. His heart is beating so hard in his chest it physically hurt, but he didn't care. All he could see was you, and the fact that you just confessed to loving him. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly putting a hand on your waist, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he moves too quickly.

And there it was, the kiss you’ve both longed for. It feels like a switch is flipped inside the two of you. Like you’re finally free. Your hands move to his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands move to your ass, letting them rest there. Everything is how it’s supposed to be.

When the kiss finally breaks, Chris's expression is a mixture of wonder and shock, like he can't believe that just actually happened. His heart is pounding in his chest, his brain struggling to process what's just happened. He couldn't believe that you actually wanted him, that you loved him. He lets out a breathless laugh, his face still so close to yours that he can feel your breath on his face. “Shit that was so good.” He says, trying to get some air. Oh and it was good.

It was the best kiss you’ve ever had.

The end<3

Oh my god why is this sooo long :,) i hope yall liked it!

[thesoundofmadness]

oh my god i am going to snap at this bitch tomorrow i can fucking feel it

[dollfacefantasy]

can't get started ♡

older bf!logan howlett x fem!reader

logan can't get it up one night and is humiliated. but that just means he'll have to prove he can still satisfy you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, age gap (reader in 20s)

a/n: the part in dpw where he said he's got whiskey dick with the claws turned me on too much tbh

This had never happened to Logan before.

That wasn't a lie he was telling you to make himself look less pathetic. It wasn't an affirmation he repeated in his own head to feel like he was still hot shit. It was the truth. One he would swear to on anything.

He'd never had a problem getting it up before.

Not with you, not with anyone. He thought the healing factor made him immune to whiskey dick or any kind of down-there dysfunction. But apparently not. Because the two of you finally had some time alone after being amidst the chaos of the mansion all day and his body was stalling.

The second he had the bedroom door shut, you were dragging him over to the bed and climbing into his lap. You were doing everything like usual. Your lips pressed against his, and then moved to his jawline and down his neck. Your hands glided across the firm muscles of his chest. Your hips rolled down against his lap, beckoning the appendage between his legs to reciprocate your desire.

But it just wouldn't. He tried to make it because it wasn't a matter of not wanting you. He wanted you bad. 

He grabs your chin and brings your lips back up to his mouth so he can communicate his passion wordlessly. He digs his fingers into your hips, feeling the beginnings of where your flesh swells into your ass. He envisions how you'd been prancing around the whole day, cute tits pushing against the fabric of your t-shirt and calling out for him to grab.

You're so soft and warm. The little mewls that leave your lips sound like calls of angels up above. It doesn't matter though. His cock had clocked out for the night.

"God damnit," he grumbles before brushing you off his lap and bringing his fist down against the mattress. He sighs and his head hangs.

He can already sense the look on your face. Worry, hesitation, and affection swirling into one humiliating look. He feels your hand find his shoulder, the touch tender and accepting.

"It's ok, Logan. We don't have to," you say. Your tone is so soft and gentle, and it just drives him fucking nuts.

"But you want to," he says and looks over at you. The look in your eyes kills him. He knows you don't mean it, but it looks so patronizing. As if he's an old dog about to be taken out back and old yeller'd.

"Yeah but I don't want you to force yourself. We can just cuddle," you offer, sweet as can be.

"It's not forcing, I want to do this. I want you so bad," he says and cups your cheek. He pulls you back onto his lap and nuzzles your neck. "Been thinking about this all day."

You let out a little sigh as he lays some kisses on the column of your throat, and that gives him a spark of hope. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he doesn't have to be put out to pasture just yet. The two of you make out and grind and feel each other up some more. But eventually your tits are all but in his face and his dick still doesn't have a pulse.

He huffs and pulls back. 'Fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says.

You watch him, the gleam in your eyes as adoring as ever. It was the same look you gave him when you'd have to explain a basic function of a cell phone to him.

"It's ok. You don't have to be embarrassed," you reassure and lean in to peck his cheek.

He groans and gently brushes you off. "Don't. I don't need you coddling me."

"I'm just saying. I understand," you say with conviction, hands splaying on your chest to physically convey your empathy, "It happens to lots of guys when they get older. You don't have to be ashamed of it with me."

And in that moment, he wishes he didn't have his mutation so he could just die on the spot from being utterly mortified. He'd actually have preferred if you laughed in his face and called him an old man. A sad, old, perverted fuck who decided to date some half his age even though he couldn't keep up with her appetite. If you'd told him you were gonna find someone who could satisfy you, it probably would've stung less than being talked to like a patient who doesn't know their cancer is terminal.

There was no chance in hell, you'd ever do any of that though. As much as he hated that fact right now, it was part of why he loved you.

All he does is mumble a thank you and kiss the corner of your mouth. He doesn't just cuddle you after though. He gets you off on his thigh. You were still going to cum even if he couldn't. When you're done, he holds you close and rubs your back till you're sleeping curled up to his side.

His night isn't very restful though. It's haunted with the prospect of future incidents like this, of your perception of him changing. The look in your eyes changing from admiration to pity.

He can't live with that. The next day for the two of you is super busy, but he makes sure there's a spot at the end of it for him to secure his redemption.

This time around it's him carting you away from the others once the sun is down, mouth on the curve of your neck before you even reach the bedroom. His hands grope your waist and paw at your tits. You stumble into the door, bumping it loud enough that you'd be worried about someone hearing you if they weren't all downstairs.

"Logan..." you giggle. You push your ass back against him and glance at him out of your peripheral.

"Not what you're gonna be calling me before the night is done, sweet thing," he grunts and boosts you up.

Your legs press into his sides to support yourself as he opens the door. He takes the two of you inside and kicks it shut behind him before heading to the bed and tossing you on the mattress.

You look up at him with a coy smile, arms propping you up and one of your legs extended to entice him.

"You know... you don't have to prove anything to me, right?" you say.

"Oh, I don't?" he asks and grabs your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your hips meet, "You're too easy to please, babydoll."

Another laugh bubbles through your lips. Your legs drop to lock around his waist. "I'm just saying. It's like totally normal, and I don't want you to get all grumpy about it."

"Oh, I get grumpy, do I?" he asks as he leans over you. His large body envelopes yours on the mattress. He ducks down further to swallow your words up with kisses.

You hum into the exchange but pull back a little to finish your thought.

"Mhm, you do. And I just don't want you to feel that way cause I knew when we got together what I was getting into," you say.

Your confidence is so cute. You talk with absolute certainty, like you understand all there is to be understood about him. Like you'd known him forever and he hadn't been doing things like this for decades longer than you walked this earth.

His mouth crashes against yours again, his body weighing down on you and crushing you into the mattress. 

"You did, hm? You knew what you were getting into? You got with me thinking I wouldn't be able to give it to you how you need all the time?" he mutters against your skin.

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Didn't mean it like that? How'd you mean it then, sweetheart?"

"I dunno..."

"Doesn't sound like you knew what you were getting into to me," he breathes.

That little sentence that you'd said in an attempt to comfort him unlocked something between the two of you. He felt his cock waking up and pressing against his zipper, eager to get out and slide home. It's hard to register your clothes being pulled off when he's got his tongue in your mouth and his fingers playing with your clit. In no time at all, he's got the both of you bare and his cock nestled between your thighs.

Like he already knew, the issue last night had never been about lack of desire. And he intended to prove that to you, fuck you so good it wiped your memory of any placating word that fell from your lips.

He ruts into you hard. The mattress rocks on the bed frame and threatens to slide off. His dick is big and even though it's not a new sensation for you, each time you take it is a stretch. It's even more so when he pushes you up by the back of your knees. You whine as you're folded in half. His thrusts hit your sweet spot every time at this angle.

"Thought you knew what you were getting into?" he teases as he pistons himself in and out.

You mewl and bob your head, though you aren't sure if you're shaking your head or nodding.

"Fuckkkk, Logan. 'm sorry," you pant. Your walls squeeze tight around his shaft as your eyes close up. He made every part of your body contract and feel like it was moments from exploding.

He simply laughs at your apology. "Don't gotta be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just showing you what happens when I get older."

His balls hang heavy and swing with each motion, clapping against your ass. The heat between your legs is enough to make you squirm. Constant whimpers pour from your lips as he fucks into you without mercy.

"I know," you moan, "You fuck me better than anyone else."

"That's right," he grunts, "Nobody else could fuck you like this. Just me."

"Mhm, just daddy," you slur and cling onto him tighter. Your arms hook around his neck and keep his sweaty skin flush against yours.

"Just daddy," he repeats, his tone smooth like silk despite his raspy voice, "You don't need anyone else. Not when I can take care of you like this."

His tip prods at your cervix, making you yelp and buck. He doesn't stop though, just keeps battering into you, hammering into your warm, wet hole.

"You don't need any little boys thinking they know how to handle you," he breathes and nuzzles your neck, "Your old man can handle you just fine, make you cum whenever you need."

A strangled cry leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his back so hard that it seems like you wanted to draw blood. His words just make you melt for him. Reduce you down to a compliant jumble of flesh for him to mold and play with how he wants.

"Needa cum right now, daddy," you whine.

"I know you do, spoiled girl. You act so understanding, but I know that little pussy is aching to cum around my cock. To get filled up with my cum," he murmurs.

You nod wildly.

He chuckles at your eagerness and snaps against you even harder.

"Hold on tight, baby," he whispers.

His hips ricochet off your ass, clapping against you with intensity that borders on violent. You squeal and hang on as directed. Your whole body rocks with his momentum. Your head bobbles around like it's empty, which it is. Empty of everything but him.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

"Let it out for me. Let me feel you burst, pretty girl," he grunts as he continues plowing into you.

Your body rolls. Your hips vibrate with the ecstasy release brings you. It crashes over you in one intense wave, like a gallon of liquid euphoria being poured over you. Your eyes flutter, and you bury your face in his neck like he has his in yours.

He fucks you through it. Coos in your ear too. "That's my baby. My sweet girl. Always sound so pretty when you're cumming."

One of your hands flies up to clutch at his thick, dark hair. Keeping him close keeps the words flowing.

"Getting so tight for me, fuck. No one can make me cum like you, honey. Drains me dry every fucking time."

Moments later he spurts into you, unloading thick ropes of his spend inside you. You let out another moan from that sensation alone. He growls and pants against your skin, his hands locking you in place as his hips pummel into your cunt and make sure every last drop has been released.

He lingers on you for a few moments before pulling out. His body feels loose in the afterglow. He stands at the edge of the bed and looks down at himself and then you. He knows he's gonna have to clean you up. Your inner thighs are shimmery with a mix of fluids, and the bush of dark hair at the base of his cock is in the same condition.

"Time to shower, baby?" he asks and pats your leg. You don't respond at first and he smirks. "Or did I tire you out too much?"

You whine something incoherent and shift to turn your face against the blankets. His smug look grows. He crawls over you again and nips at your jaw, rubbing his nose against your cheekbone.

"You know, it's ok, sweetheart. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's totally normal for pretty little things like you. I knew that going in."

His tone mimics your soft and understanding one from earlier. You make a little growl and swat at his bicep.

“Shut up, old man.”

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[prozacwhorehouse]

paparazzi | mgg x SNL cast member gf

Summary: comments from the paparazzi instill doubt in you, but Matthew is there as a voice of reason

this was a request but it got deleted when I was making edits so I hope this finds its way to that lovely person !

—————————————————————————

pre and post show paparazzi outside the studio wasn’t uncommon. but when speculation that you and Matthew were dating blossomed, they got more incessant and difficult to ignore. it seemed as if they were always around, with the intention of spotting the two of you and documenting it. they were constantly nagging for answers and details about your relationship, most specifically mentioning the age gap.

the both of you knew it’d would be hard for some people to understand, but the idea that you were both legal consenting adults seemed more logical and would be accepted easier. originally, you had kept the relationship private - wanting the intimate moments to be kept to yourselves, only for yourselves. eventually the love becomes to great to hide, so you started dropping hints to the public. hints weren’t enough, there were always the small few who liked to dig a little deeper, push sensitive buttons - almost always internet trolls, or worse, in person paparazzi.

no matter what, they’ll always jab at the age gap. it’s always flashing cameras followed by comments, from “your relationship is inappropriate” “she’s young enough to be your daughter” and even, “is you dating an older man rooted in daddy issues?”

a video of the interaction goes viral and all the comments are offering support for the two of you:

they are both consenting adults. those who can’t accept that need to grow up and mind their own business.

these poor angels. the paparazzi is disgusting, ill never understand why it’s still a thing

they’re both grown leave them the fuck alone

daddy issues?? holy shit. the pap is getting so much worse.

two talented people reduced to their relationship. do better

you knew accepting a job on television came with its consequences, but you weren’t going to let people who get paid to be nosy stand in the way of your dream. so, with time you had learned how to handle paparazzi with ease. what was typically praise now being sprinkled with hate, it got harder and harder to ignore.

because the more someone says something about you, the more you start to believe it.

why is he with me? is this weird? am i wrong? is he wrong?

Whenever Matthew happened to be with you during these paparazzi incidents, he’d always guide you through the crowd by the small of your back or your hand. Weaving through people wordlessly, only whispering assurances into your ear, squeezing your hand to calm your heart beating in your ears.

—————————————————————————

The whole ride home to your apartment is silent. With Matthew, you two are always talking, always sharing thoughts, making the occasional silence reason for concern.

“Are you okay? You din’t say more than a word or two at a time not the way home,” he says while shutting the apartment door behind him.

“Are we, wrong?” you turn to gaze up at him through your lashes, the look on your face hurt.

“What do you mean, angel?” he croons, concern and confusion blossoming across his face.

“Like,” you pause and scoff, trying to find the words for your question. “Is what we’re doing wrong. Being together.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore? Cause we don’t have to-” his face turns to worry, your heart dropping at the thought of him thinking you’d say anything other than no. because no matter what anyone says, he’s so in love with you he can’t even imagine losing you.

“no! oh my gosh, no.” you’re quick to assure, holding his face in your hands. it’s just exhausting. why are they so concerned with our lives? can they not just-“

“you love me?” he interrupts, looking at you intently.

“what?” you scoff in disbelief, pulling back slightly. “of course I do - why?”

“because I love you. And that’s all that matters, yeah?” he brushes his thumb across your cheek, gazing into your eyes so lovingly. he always looks at you that way.

“It could be worse. They could be comparing me to Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smiles, causing the corners of your mouth to turn up, “and I’m definitely not DiCaprio level.”

“If you were, you would’ve dropped me when I turned 25,” you snicker and he sighs, throwing his head back.

“You’re funny, you know that?”

“I’d hope so. It’s kind of my job.”

—————————————————————————

mgg x SNL cast member taglist

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn @princess-ofthe-pages @flow33didontsmoke

[churipu]

a drizzle feels like monsoon !

featuring. sukuna ryomen, itadori yuuji, megumi fushiguro x reader

warnings. a lil angst + fluff (jjk men practically apologizing, shocker for sukuna)

note. this is part 2! i'm glad you all have taken a liking to the first part, like i can't believe it got over 700 notes :D, i'm gonna be doing my asks after this one so do wait for it! <;33

tags. @dookiemeshibear @sircatchungus

SUKUNA RYOMEN.

who am i kidding? he literally has no filter with that mouth of his, doesn't care about whose feelings he will hurt with what he says and could care less about what comes after.

except when it comes to you, apparently.

(as much as he hates to admit it, he's a sucker for you).

so when you came home from work one day, you just wanted nothing but to be smothered up with love (even if he barely shows it to you, he has his own way).

"ryo, i'm home."

he seemed to be in a foul mood — obviously he's always in one? but today seemed to be his foul-est mood yet.

and you didn't understand why.

it was either someone made him mad (everyone agitates him for just breathing tbh), or he's just.. mad for no apparent reason.

"are you alright? do you want to talk about it?"

your voice made him grimace and he looks at you dead in the eyes before muttering out a:

"shut the fuck up y/n." in the most menacing, venom laced tone.

you widened your eyes slightly but nodded your head, feeling the upset settling in your stomach — and so you went to take a shower (and cry in there for the longest time).

and when you come out of the shower with red marks at the corner of your eyes, there sukuna sat on the bed in your shared bedroom.

"what are you doing here?" you asked him, clutching onto the white towel you just used. the male looks at you for a while, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"what? can't be in my room now?" he retorts back. and so much to think that he was going to apologize to you for being undoubtedly rude when you just wanted to throw him love and care.

"'kay." you mumble out, getting ready to leave the room — but he held you by your wrist, holding you in place, "what are you doing?"

"fuck," he murmurs out, looking stressed out, "'m sorry for saying that shit. i didn't mean it, it just came out."

it was pretty warming to hear the word 'sorry' come out of his lips since he isn't much of a person who would shove his ego up his ass to apologize to someone, "then why'd you say it?" you asked him, voice low.

"i.. don't know— have you been crying in there?" he asks, voice calm.

you shook your head, lying, but he could see right through you. the male pulls you down onto the bed, threading his fingers into your hair, "sorry.. for makin' you cry."

"that's okay.."

"it's obviously not if you're fuckin' cryin'." he mutters out, pulling you into a tight hug, laying his chin on top of your head.

"you're cute, ryo."

"shut up."

ITADORI YUUJI.

it's a surprise to everyone if yuuji's in a foul mood — but i mean, he's human too? he doesn't always have to be happy.

but his foul moods are rare so you always wonder what could have plummeted his mood, and sometimes yuuji would tell you all about it.

but today he seemed to be in a foul mood, and distant.

"yuuji?" he grunted, making sure you knew he heard you call out to him.

"are you alright?" he grunted again.

"yuuji, do you want to talk about it?" he shook his head.

"is there anything i can do to—"

"Jesus Christ y/n, stop asking me shit and leave me alone!"

you did what he told you to, sitting down on the couch in silence on the left side, and yuuji on the right side silently. it shouldn't be anything but you felt overwhelmed by the tone of his voice, yuuji has never raised his voice at you before.

so when tears come out of your eyes, yuuji is quick to take notice, he glances at you, eyes full of worry. and then he scoots closer silently, "y/n.."

you wiped your tears, but to no avail, they just keep coming out.

his hands soon cups your cheeks and wipes your tears, "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry.." he murmurs out, peppering your face with kisses, "please don't cry, i'm sorry.. i shouldn't have raised my voice at you. i'm so sorry y/n."

yuuji pulled you onto his embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses on your skin, "please don't cry.. i love you, get mad at me, yell at me, but don't cry. i hate to see you cry.."

it pained you to see him upset because of you, so you nodded your head. if you spoke now, you were sure you'd cry even harder.

you ruffled his hair, "it's okay yuuji, i'm sorry for forcing you too."

he shook his head, "no, it's mine. you just wanted to know, i'm sorry."

he spent the rest of the day cuddling and clinging onto you like a koala, requiring kisses and constant attention.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

how should i say this? he acts hot and cold. sometimes he would be cold like ice, and at other times he would be warm like summer.

today, he was in one of those cold like ice moods and you hadn't spoken to him for.. hours.

"megumi?"

he didn't answer you, but he looks at you, arching his eyebrow.

"did i do something wrong to make you act like this?"

he sighed, "no."

"then do you want to talk about it?"

"no."

"really..? are you oka—"

"i said no, what the hell is so hard to understand about the word 'no'?" he seethes out.

it took him awhile to notice how silent you have been, and when he looks at you ��� with tears pooling in your eyes. he immediately feels the guilt surging in him.

"fuck. y/n.. i'm so sorry." he reaches out to you but stopped when he thought it would just worsen everything.

"'ts okay.. i'm sorry for forcing you to tell me," you wiped your tears.

megumi pulled you into his arms, holding you close to him, "no, i'm sorry. i'm sorry for saying that — you just cared about me, i shouldn't have said that to you."

you rubbed his back, "it's alright gumi, i'm okay."

"you're not," he pulled away, wiping your tears away swiftly, "i don't like seeing you cry.."

"you're a cutie." you chuckled.

"what makes you think it was the right time to compliment me y/n?" oh, don't think that you didn't catch that blush on his face. he's a cutie.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[halohalona]

Fair

"It's what my heart just yearns to say In ways that can't be said"

Logan reflects on his life, sense of self, and his relationship with you

Logan Howlett x Reader

this was inspired by the song "Fair" by The Amazing Devil. You can listen to the song while reading but it isn't necessary. i wanted to capture the song's emotion in this fic, and hopefully, I did.

ok this is take 2 of posting this 'cause the first time had a shit ton of typos and could not live with myself letting ya'll read a fic with typos (especially when i wanted this to be very emotional), partially beta-read, hopefully, it's not as typo-filled as before

masterlist

warnings/tags: emotional hurt/comfort, takes place after the events of DP&W, logan cries, reference to "Beanie" (drabble i wrote), a glimpse of domesticity, and i honestly don't know what else to tag.

Sunlight pours into the room through the gaps of the curtain as Logan stirs awake on your chest. You’ve been awake for a while now, just playing with his hair and humming the first song that came to mind.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you softly greet him with a warm smile. He looks up at you, his own tender smile gracing his lips. A smile reserved only for you. He doesn’t say anything, too busy admiring your bedhead, appreciating how beautiful you looked in the morning.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck as his smile widens. “Where have you been all my life?” he murmurs softly against your skin.

“In another universe?” you reply playfully.

His smile slowly fades at the thought. His face is still in the crook of your neck as he mumbles “It’s not fair,” hoping you wouldn’t hear, but you do anyway.

“What’s not fair love?” you ask.

“It’s not fair how the universe hid you away from me,” he joked. You gently hug his head and chuckle. He said it jokingly but you know that’s not what he really wanted to say.

It was Wade who introduced you to each other during one of his many parties. You were his neighbor across the hall. After some mildly uncomfortable introductions and comments from Wade, Logan irritably told him to shut the fuck up which led to him eventually leaving you two alone.

You never met the Logan of your world, and Logan never met the you in his world. Sometimes you wonder if you ever did meet the Logan of your word, would he be the same as the man you’re lying with right now? Probably not, and you think it’s for the best.

He stays quiet for a while before releasing you from his embrace and sitting up.

He stares at the wall, pondering about you, your relationship, this world he’s in, everything.

His mind wanders back to the time when you made that odd-looking hat because you said it reminded you of his hair—he couldn’t help but smile, realizing in that moment that he would cherish everything about you, no matter how unusual it was. He remembered the night you two were watching a horror movie on the couch and you were so scared that you somehow found a way to burrow yourself between his back and the couch to get away from the horrifying scenes unfolding on the TV. In that moment he felt a deep and instinctive need to protect you from anything that would frighten or harm you, real or not. And then there was the time you went out of your way to get him the watch he had been staring at in the mall; it made him realize just how much you cared.

Maybe fate brought you to each other, though he’s not entirely sure. But he was sure about one thing: he wants you. He wants this life he’s created with you. He has never felt so content, calm, and happy. Yet, he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t deserve any of this—especially not you.

“Love? Is everything alright?” your voice laced with worry brings him out of his contemplation and back to the present.

God knows he wasn’t a good man, and he’s told you so many times but you stand by him. If he hadn’t already lost everything, he would be willing to do so, if you asked. And that’s what he tells you.

You move to straddle on his lap and cradle his face in your hands.

“Hey, it’s me,” you say softly. “You may not be a good man, and as you said, you’ve done bad things. But what’s happened has happened, and you can’t change that. Even if you could and you did, we wouldn’t be here right now. You may think you don’t deserve me but isn’t that also up to me? I want you, and you want me. Let’s keep it that way, alright?”

He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close. Afraid that if he moved even the slightest bit you would disappear along with his reason for everything. You don't say anything. You let him hold you until his heart and mind stop racing.

Running your hands through his hair and hugging him against your chest you whisper, “It’s not fair,” echoing his words from earlier. “It’s not fair how much I love you even when you piss me off and act like you don’t need me.”

You settle onto his lap, and softly press your forehead against his. A tender smile graces his lips as he gazes into your eyes. “Well, if that’s the case,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere, “you have no idea how unreasonably in love I am with you. With everything you do, with just… you.” he pulls away, holding your wrist and laying his head in your palm, more tears threatening to fall, "You make me feel normal when I'm with you.”

Fighting back your own tears, you whisper, “I love you, and I want you to remember that. I love you so much it hurts. And it hurts me as much knowing you don’t believe that you deserve it, because you do. I love you, so please don’t push me away” you bring your lips to his in a soft and tender kiss.

"I love you more than words can say, and I promise I'll never push you away again.”

“And I’ll stay by your side, no matter what happens,” you added, holding him close.

[jaymadii]

FAMILY MAN [O!Bakugo Katsuki x A!Male Reader] PT.1

Bakugo's hero agency was thriving - doing statistically the best in Japan out of all the agencies at the moment (shove it Deku). He quickly gathered traction up the hero ranking, he made it. This was his dream. The problem though, Bakugo’s area of expertise was fighting, specifically, hand to hand. Quirks that messed with the mind or reality always threw him for a loop. So when he comes across a man with glowing blue fingers, the hero had barely landed his first attack before everything around him vanished into black smoke. And he’s down.

The next thing he knows, he’s in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and a shit ton of people in white coats. He doesn’t even have time to process his surroundings before he’s being swarmed with people shining penlights in his eyes.

“Get the FUCK OFF ME.” He yelled, shoving a younger looking man out his damn personal space. He was hooked up to all kinds of wires and lines, yanking at them to get them off and out of his body. The sound of the doctors protesting was drowned out by him screaming over them to get away. He gripped the wrists of one of the doctors trying to stop his from pulling the IV out, pushing him away harshly. She fumbled a few steps away, holding her wrist with a pained whimper. “I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME.” There’s a magical freak out there terrorizing people and robbing banks and they want him to stay in this room? Fat fucking chance. A door swung open.

“Bakugo Katsuki.”

The room went silent. The doctors or PAs or whoever the hell all these people are suddenly shut their mouths. That voice. Your voice boomed his name.

The scent of an agitated alpha filled the room. And despite the sour note from the anger, he could recognize the smell almost instantaneously. Suddenly he could hear his own heart beating in his ears.

At the hospital door, stood you. You looked frantic and worried and pissed all at the same time, your clothes were disheveled like you had been running. Your left hand held a death grip on the doorframe while you’re right was on the knob from where you swung the door open. In the nasty florescent lighting of this place, a solid golden ring gleamed on your left hand. So many thoughts started buzzing at once. A wedding ring. You were married - mated. You were in this hospital. You just yelled at him. You looked almost exactly the same as the last day he saw you.

He didn’t know what feelings he was feeling right now.

It’s been years since Bakugo had last seen you, eleven. It made sense that you’d move on, mate with another omega, he made that decision for the both of you. He told you to go to America, to leave him alone. And from what he remembers of that conversation he wasn’t very nice about it.

You started to approach Bakugo slowly, like you’re unsure of what he’ll do. It’s now that he realizes that he’s halfway off this hospital bed from his attempted escape. Your scent starts to even out, the sourness from your anger fades with every step you take closer to him. He wants to speak, to say something to you. To fuck off, or ask why you’re even here, or what you want. But he doesn’t. He lets you come closer, because even after all these years your scent is still the only one that gives him any remote sense of peace. He’s always hated hospitals.

When you do finally reach him, your touch is soft. It’s like you’re scared, you put his face in your hands and your eyes surveyed his features. You seem satisfied with whatever you’re looking for because the hands on his face begin to thread through his hair and now you’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. You’re hugging him. Any anger still left in his body directed towards the staff or you suddenly lifts like a weight off his shoulders. You hold him close like he’s gonna float away with the wind if you don’t.

“You’re okay.” You whispered into his hairline, tucking your nose in on the top of his head. “I was so worried, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster. I dropped off Hinata and Ren with your parents.” It sounded like you were talking underwater. All he felt was his scent begin to mingle with yours as you scented him. It felt so nice, to have this feeling again, to have you want to be near him. He wanted to reciprocate the affection.

But he didn’t.

Whatever the hell was happening right now, wasn’t right. Bakugo tucked his arms between the two of you and shoved you away. Confusion flooded your face as you took a step back, your hands still holding on to his shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

—————

A/N: Hey I’m still alive and well okay

[callsign-datura]

Heyy

So what about Simon Riley with an independent f!reader

Like she’s just so used to doing things on her own (her being me)

Anyways here’s a flower for u 🌹

thanks for the flower dear! simon 'ghost' riley was independent too. he was used to taking care of himself, leaving no room for anyone else and just being on his own. he wasn't scared of being alone. in fact, he enjoyed it; his alone time charged his social battery and it gave him time to focus on his hobbies.

it was odd when he saw you. you were independent too, quiet and just like him in many ways; it was only normal for you both to drift together as if it was fate. he found himself believing that it was; you were his fate.

when things got serious, he started dedicating things to you. he understood how difficult it was to allow someone to care for you and in the same way he was beginning to allow you to take care of him, he was implementing small ways to care for you. making dinner so you didn't have to, washing your laundry and sorting it just how you liked, leaving money for you to go out and do things. it became normal for you both. he was a bit more open and dependent on you for certain things, but you were a bit more withdrawn, and he understood that. it was hard, and allowing himself to be like this with you was taking a leap of faith.

he gave you time. time to adjust, grow, and flourish; and he couldn't explain how much he loved seeing you depend on him for things. of course, you still both had things you needed to do on your own, and that was a mutual agreement between you.

it was a night when everything had gone to shit for you that he realized that you'd finally adjusted to his presence.

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

You swung open the front door with an exasperated sigh, the wind from the outside brushing into the warm house like a cold front. Your eyes stung with tears from work stress, and your footsteps were heavy and tired as you entered the cozy home. You shut the door behind it and rested your back against it, tilting your head back and taking in a deep breath to let yourself release some of the emotions that built during the day. Your boss is a dick, spilling coffee on your favorite work dress, getting reminded of some tragic things that happened in your past--

"darlin'?" You were drawn from your thoughts by the familiar voice of your boyfriend, and you blinked blearily at him as your eyes focused on his form peering out from around the corner. His gaze was concerned, and though you couldn't see much of his face due to the mask he always wore, you practically felt the worry wafting off of him. His hulking frame stepped out into the hall and proceeded towards you with silent footsteps, those brown eyes focused on you as a wave of relief and appreciation fell over you. Tears stung at your eyes again and as soon as he was at arms' length, you embraced him. You never really hugged him that often, and it was odd for you, too. Though as his arms folded around you and you felt the warmth and safety of his hold, your face nuzzled into the bulk of his chest.

"s'alright, love. let it out. 'm here, yeah?" He murmured to you, placing a kiss on your forehead through the fabric of his mask. The tears spilled before you could stop them, and your chest heaved against him as your breath hitched and your grip tightened on him. You balled the fabric of his hoodie up in your fists, and you pulled him closer. Being in his arms was such a relief, you were cursing yourself that you didn't do this sooner... before it got to this point.

A mix of concern and relief welled in his chest as he held you. He rocked you side to side as you sobbed into his chest. Once your cries were muffled, he held you a few minutes longer before pulling away and cupping your cheek, tilting your head back and wiping away the tears from your red cheeks.

"tell me what happened, lovie," He began, his voice low and raspy but so fucking comforting. A few more tears fell and he kissed them away, pulling back so his gaze could focus on yours.

"don't wanna," you responded simply, burying your face back into his chest with a little pout in an attempt to lighten the mood. "boss was just being a dick, and... work was just so overwhelming." your voice was small and meek, and his heart swelled at the sound of it. His chest rumbled with a laugh, and he stroked your hair as he held you.

"well... les' forget about that. you get changed and take a bath, n' I'll order takeout while you're in there. we can watch a movie, too. how's s'at sound?"

You nodded, sniffing quietly. "jus' hold me a bit longer... please?"

He smiled under the mask and he nodded. "however long you want me to, i will. i'd hold you for eternity if it meant y'were safe and happy in my arms."

And he meant that.

[gamercookies]

Need help on what..? 

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers 

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: “fuckboy”!hyunie, virgin!y/n, a bit of fighting (word/physical), unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking,fingering, grinding, use of “daddy”.  Note: this is the most I spent writing lol, I will rarely write fanfics it’s been 3 months Might have a few misspellings. But I feel this is the best I’ve made in my opinion :3 Enjoy!! 

Your enemy Hyunjin, whom you heard he’s a fuckboy, have been enemies for as long as you could remember. One day, you decided to swallowed your pride and approached him for help with a homework assignment, What could possibly go wrong if he comes over? 

“H-hey.. Hyunjin?” You say with a shy smile.

“Ugh.. it’s you.. what do you want?!” He says in an irritated tone, but not loud to scare you.

“I was wondering.. if you can help me with a homework assignment. I’m a bit confused on the math, and I assume you must know an idea?” 

Hyunjin scoffs and smirks a bit, “is there a catch? You’re always mad when I tease you and shit, why ask me when you can ask anyone else in this school?” 

“Yeah but most of them don’t even know the basics of it.. but I have to ask you.. since you know it. Ugh.. whatever! but I need help so..please?” 

“Please? …” He stays silent thinking for a moment. “Fine, whatever. Where should we meet up I guess..”

“I was wondering at my place later today, around 6PM?” You ask with a smile. 

"Your place?" Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical about the arrangement. "Why not here or somewhere public? It seems like you're trying to trap me alone with you."

“Am not! I’m literally asking for homework help nothing else!” You say as you push him gently.

He stumbles back a bit, "But fine, whatever. I'll come to your place at 6 PM. Don't think this means I'm being “mr.nice guy” on you just because I’m helping you with the homework." His tone is playful yet assertive, but yet seducing. 

“See you later then bitch.!” He yells from across the hall as he leaves, yet teasing you once more. 

“H-hey! don’t call me that you asshole!” You yell back as you walk to the exit to start heading home. 

….

At home, you arrive getting welcomed by your cat (you own one) and you pet its fur. “Aww you miss me? don’t worry I’m home. I’ll go and grab some food for you to eat.” You go to the kitchen cabinet and grab the cat food. Dumping some onto the cat bowl you slowly start thinking about hyunjin.. You tell yourself, “why am I thinking about that asshole, he’s a pain in the ass at most..?” 

As you put the cat food away, you bend down to give the bowl, and placing it in front of your cat. You then head to your bedroom, all cozy, organized, your laptop well placed. Of course after a long day, and now that your cat is eating, you go take a shower. After 10 minutes later you walk out of the shower the cold breeze hitting your body. As you dry your hair, you head over to your desk, where your diary is and write a short note about today as always. 

“February 17. Today was good, chatting with my friends as always.. But why did I have to ask hyunjin for homework help..”

As you go on writing about your day, you don’t realize you’re talking about Hyunjin’s body features. After 5 minutes you stop and read it once more, “what? Why am I writing about him.. fuck.. god why do I feel like I want him so badly.” 

You get interrupted by the doorbell, you turn next to your diary and see the time. “6:02PM.” Hyunjin is here.. You didn’t even hear or realize the doorbell has been ringing 4 times. You quickly shut the diary running to the door, completely forgetting to hide it. 

“Hey! I’m here, hopefully you ain’t doing makeup for no reason!” He yells as he continuously rings it. 

You open the door, panting a bit from running, forgetting that you invited him for homework help not for another reason. “O-oh sorry I just wrote something real quick and completely forgot the time.” As you scratch the back of the neck nervously a bit. “Will you let me in? Or imma just be outside?”

“R-right sorry.. do you need any snacks or anything?” Hyunjin hears you explain if he’s hungry as he walks in, “No thanks, I didn’t come to kidnap some food, it was just homework help you said.” 

“Yea.. right. Let’s head to my bedroom of course, it’s mainly where I do my homework.” As you close the front door, you led him the way to your bedroom.

“Tsk.. took you long enough to answer I assumed you weren’t home or anything. The fuck you were doing?” He says in an irritating tone, looking at around the room. “Goodness, it's surprisingly clean in here, I thought you never bothered tidying up.” You scoff and roll your eyes a bit, “Are you seriously mad at me for it being tidy?”

"Mad? Please." Hyunjin scoffs dismissively. "Don't flatter yourself, y/n. I couldn't care less how long you take."

He saunters further into the room, glancing around with a critical eye. "Just hurry up and show me this homework already. Let's get this over with so I can leave."

You shift uncomfortably under his intense stare as you pull a chair for him to sit down next to you, “Well this question over here.. can you show me how to answer it step-by-step?” 

As he kept explaining it, you can’t help but secretly stare at him.. these feelings you feel, they aren’t hate, but more of love. But after an hour of homework help, you finish at last. Hyunjin on the other hand leans back and scoffs. 

“An hour on all that? Really? That's all the time you needed for one simple math problem? 

“Sorry it took long..it’s just that-” you say quietly. 

He interrupts you, “Pathetic, I could do it in 5 minutes.” 

“Hey, I said I was sorry!" You snap back defensively with irritation. As y/n stands up from her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, looking at him directly. "And maybe if you actually explained things properly instead of just showing off, it wouldn't take so long!" 

Hyunjin's expression darkens at your outburst, his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, it seems like he might lunge at you, but then his features relax into a mocking grin.

"Oh, so now you're an expert on teaching methods, huh?" he drawls sarcastically. "Maybe I should start taking notes from Miss 'I-can't-even-do-math-right' over here."

He pushes his chair back and rises to his feet, towering over you. "Shut up, Hyunjin! Maybe it’s best you go home, out..!" You shout, getting angry at his words. 

Hyunjin snorts derisively at your outburst, he suddenly pushes you back giving you no time to react, “H-hey what are you doing?!” You quickly say as you stumble back and your diary in which you forgot to hide it falls from the desk. “Oh, look who's getting feisty. Maybe I should teach you a lesson in manners too, since you seem to have forgotten yours." His hand shoots out, grabbing your chin roughly and forcing you to meet his piercing gaze. "You think you can just dismiss me after I helped you? Think again, y/n." 

But then, he looks at the diary bending down to pick it up from the floor, with a smirk. “Oh what’s this? Hmm.. Let's see what juicy details you've been hiding in here, shall we?”, as he is flipping through its pages with a smug grin. 

You stand up trying to retrieve the diary back with fear that he will reveal your new desire for him. “H-Hey give that back! It isn’t for you to read! Come on..! It’s my secret!” 

Hyunjin chuckles darkly, holding the diary out of your reach. "Secrets are meant to be shared, aren't they, y/n? And I think I deserve to know what's really going on in that pretty little head of yours." He opens the diary to a random page, raises an eyebrow as he looks over the words, and starts to read out loud from the page. "..'he looks hot, I just wish Hyunjin would touch me...' Oh, how scandalous!"

He chuckles darkly, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Looks like someone has a crush on their bully. How pathetic." 

You blush bright red, looking away in embarrassment "S-Shut up! It's not like that! I-I just wrote some random thoughts, okay?! You're making it sound worse than it is!" As you try to grab the diary back again. Hyunjin easily sidesteps your attempt to grab the diary, holding it high above his head,and laughs mockingly. "Random thoughts? I don't think so, y/n. This sounds suspiciously like a confession to me." He continues reading, his voice dripping with mockery. "'.. I wonder what it would be like if he kissed me...'" Hyunjin pauses, glancing at you with a wicked grin. "Face it, you want me. Admit it, you dirty little thing." As he tosses the diary aside, watching it land on the floor again with a soft thud. 

Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you attempt to reject those claims, completely embarrassed and vulnerable as Hyunjin mocks your innermost feelings, "I...I may find you attractive sometimes, okay?! But that doesn't mean I like you or anything! You're still a jerk!"

Hyunjin moves in a bit closer, getting into your personal space while grinning at you. "A jerk, huh? At least I’m upfront about how I feel about you, unlike those who hide their feelings in diaries." He gently runs a finger along your warm cheekbone, and even though you're mad, his touch makes you shiver. "You can pretend all you want, but deep down, you want me just as much as I want you, y/n."

You suddenly feel like you’re dripping down there. “Fuck.. I-”

Hyunjin notices the change in you and smirks, his eyes flicking down, "What's wrong, y/n? Getting excited by my touch?" He moves in even closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, "Or perhaps it's the idea of me kissing you, caressing you, that has you so stirred up."

Your face turns even redder as you try to step back, but your legs feel weak, causing you to stumble backwards onto the bed, sitting down awkwardly. "Oof! .. stop it! Don't say things like that! That’s not what-“ Hyunjin watches you stumble back onto the bed with amusement. He straddles your hips, pinning you beneath him as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear once more, “Don’t you want those fantasies of yours to come true~” He straddles you a bit, you can feel the bulge in his pants. “N-no.. I- fuck.. Wait, Are you hard?!.. damn it..” You cover your face in embarrassment.

Hyunjin grins wickedly at your reaction, his hardness pressing insistently against you. "Of course I am," he admits, his voice low and husky. "The sight of you, all flustered and blushing, it's incredibly arousing." He begins to grind against you slowly, relishing in your discomfort and arousal. "You can't deny the attraction between us anymore, y/n. We both want each other, whether we admit it or not." 

You moan softly, feeling yourself get wetter as he grinds against you. "Hyunjin, please...stop teasing me..." Your hands move to his waist, gripping tightly as you try to resist the pleasure building inside you. “About earlier.. Maybe I really should teach you a lesson in manners too, maybe a couple of spanks, don’t you think?’”, he repeats the sentence he said before you guys argued. “Wait what?! You wouldn’t dare do that…plus, that’s a childish thing.”

Hyunjin’s hand slides down to grip your thigh possessively, squeezing firmly. "Oh, I would dare, y/n. In fact, I intend to do much more than just spank you."

He leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers huskily, "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me for more. And trust me, I plan to take my time exploring every inch of your delectable body until you're nothing but a quivering mess beneath me."  “Hyunjin, stop talking like that...it's making me...ahh-" Your protest is cut off as he abruptly slaps your thigh, the sudden impact making you yelp. "Ow! What was that for?!" Hyunjin smirks at your pained expression, clearly amused by your reaction. "That was for your impudent mouth," he explains, his tone stern yet playful. "You shouldn't speak to me with such disrespect, especially when you're the one who's been fantasizing about me."

He flips you over that you’re now your back is facing him, especially your ass, without hesitation he gives another firm slap. "Now, are you going to apologize properly, or do I need to continue teaching you a lesson?"

“Ah~!”You moan, he spanks you the second time. “Fuck!.. fine you got me.. I’m sorry!”, He spanks you again, “ah~! Hyunjin!” which is making you dripping wet, feeling good from it. “Use ‘daddy’ instead of my name. Got it?” He takes off your shirt and then pulls down your pants and underwear, leaving you in just your bra. Hyunjin chuckles darkly at your submission, pleased by the way you're squirming under his touch. "Good girl, From now on, you address me as Daddy when we're alone together like this."

He trails his fingers along your hole, feeling the heat emanating from your core. "Mmm, seems like my little y/n is quite eager for more attention, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a response, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning at the tightness that grips them. "All that spanking got you turned on? Fuck.. wet already, You really are a naughty slut for Daddy's cock, aren't you?"

You moan loudly, bucking your hips against his fingers as he thrusts them in and out of you. "Ah! D-Daddy...fuck...yes...please..." Your words are a jumbled mix of pleasure and desperation as you surrender to the sensations coursing through your body. As he curls his fingers inside you, rubbing against that sensitive spot within, your walls clench around him reflexively.

"More...Daddy...I need more..." You whine. His free hand snakes around to palm your breast, tweaking the nipple through the fabric of your bra. "And look how hard these tits get when Daddy plays with you.” Hyunjin then unclasps your bra, letting your breasts hang free. “You love it, don't you? Such a greedy little cunt, begging for more~” Your nipples harden further under his touch, and you arch into him, desperate for more stimulation. "Yes, Daddy...I love it...please...more..." You pant heavily, your hips rocking against his hand as he continues to finger you relentlessly. “Please fuck me.. I- I need your cock in me.. just like my fantasies in my diary..!” You whine again.

“Patience girl.. you don’t wanna upset me and make me not give it to you.. you don’t want that, hmm?” As you turn over and sit up to face him with a pleading look.

“N-no not at all, I’ll be patient daddy! I promise!”

“Hmm.. get on your knees and prove to me that you need this cock in you.” With trembling hands, you quickly comply, dropping to your knees in front of him. Your eyes lock onto his throbbing erection, and you lick your lips in anticipation. "Go ahead, baby," Hyunjin coaxes, stroking himself slowly. "Show Daddy how much you crave his cock."

Emboldened by his encouragement, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the head of his dick, sucking gently. He lets out a low groan, his fingers tangling in your hair as you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper into your mouth with each pass. "Mmm, that's it...good girl," Hyunjin praises, his hips starting to rock subtly, fucking your mouth. "You're doing so well, I think it's time Daddy gave you what you've been begging for..." 

“Yes please daddy! Rail me!” You say in excitement. 

"Get on the bed and present yourself to me, like the good little slut you are." He says as he walks over to your presented body. “Perfect. Now, hold still while I prepare myself," he instructs, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. “I see you had lube.. interesting..” He gets interrupted by your whine, “Please hurry, I need it inside..! Please!” Hyunjin grabs your hips roughly, positioning himself behind you. He presses the tip of his cock against your slick entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. "Beg for it, slut." he growls, holding back from fully entering you. "Tell me how badly you need Daddy's cock stretching out this tight little cunt."  

You plead desperately, wiggling your hips back against him in an attempt to impale yourself on his length. "I'm all yours, Daddy! Use me however you want!" Satisfied with your submissive display, Hyunjin grips your hips tighter and plunges deep inside you with one swift, powerful thrust. "Ungh, fuck...so tight," he groans, burying himself to the hilt. He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with relentless force. The bed creaks beneath you as he fucks you hard and fast, his heavy balls slapping against your hole with each rough stroke. "Take it, you dirty little whore," he snarls, his breath hot against your ear. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be used and filled by Daddy's big cock?" 

"Ahh yes! Oh god, yes! Fill me up, Daddy! Use me!" You scream in ecstasy as he pounds into you mercilessly, your body shaking with each brutal thrust. Your inner walls clench tightly around his thick shaft, milking him greedily. "Harder! Faster! Break me with that huge cock!" Hyunjin's thrusts become even more savage, driven by your shameless begging. "You want it harder? Then take it, you insatiable slut!" He roars, slamming into you harshly. The room fills with the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural grunts.

Suddenly, he reaches around to pinch and twist your nipples harshly, sending jolts of pain-tinged pleasure through your body. "Cum for me, now!" he commands, his voice a feral growl. "Show Daddy how much you love being fucked raw!" “Hyunie.. cum with me, please! Fuck! fuck..! Im gonna..” With a few more erratic thrusts, he buries himself to the root and explodes, flooding your insides with his hot seed. "Take it all, you filthy cumslut!" he snarls, pumping load after load deep into your spasming hole. 

Hyunjin collapses beside you, both of you panting heavily as you come down from the intense high of your shared climax. He pulls you close, spooning you from behind and nuzzling into your neck, “Wow.. you were amazing...” 

“Yeah.. uhm.. are you a fuckboy? Is this just one time and then that’s it?” He laughs, “Me? A fuckboy? when did you hear that joke!” You look at him confused, “W-What..? You’re not..? Wow, I guess I must’ve not believe everything I hear.” 

He leans to kiss you passionately, making you moan between it, after a moment he lets go panting a bit. “Was it really for homework or for me to use you?” “Well.. both. I don’t mind having you come over and help me~” 

“Oh trust me, I think I’ll come over many times, you’re now my girlfriend, y/n, and you better continue writing those fantasies.” 

[kurosstuff]

Lute x fallen! Reader: Fallen pt2

Summary: lute finally got the chance to see you again- but was it worth it?

Warnings: arguments, miss communication(lite refusing to fully explain herself/be true), violence. Reminiscing, blood- detailed? Ish, one mention of sex, idk what else

A/N: I hope I wrote her well?

Seeing you again made Lute- panic- even though it was a glimpse? It made her feel things she didn't even know what to call it-

She was pacing around her training room, trying to steel her mind. Make her warm heart cold. But she can't. Her moral self fully blames you for this. But- she blames herself for feeling- after all? How could you be blamed for what her selfish heart wants?

You.

Her fist stopped before punching the demon dummy before sighing. Flapping her wings slowly to stretch, looking over at the picture she hid(that Adam was aware of? But allowed) of her and you - the day of the fall. Frowning, she went up to it - she didn't even look like herself. With how soft she looked at you - how her wing wrapped around you with her arm on your waist. Her scowl deepened as if she looked sick at the picture. That wasn't her.

That was a woman in love.

-

The meeting was dragging on - way to long. So Lute wandered out seeing how the other executioner was by Adam's side so? It should be fine. Walking around this pathetic hotel sneering at the sight. There's no way a sinner COULD be a winner.

She'd laugh, and HAS laughed in the princess's face for that dream. But deep down, she only wished it to be true for one specific sinner. A fallen. Glancing around, she grumbled behind her mask. Seething how dare that thought come to her mind? Why is she? An executioner thinking this.

Lute is inlove with a demon.

The thought sickens her - sure it was fine when you were an angel. In Heaven- sure, she still had no clue what she felt. Now-? She can't entertain the thought. Stopping, footsteps came behind her- she twirled her spear in her hand quickly moving to strike before stopping almost hitting the demons neck

"Its you" she snarled out glaring you down behind her mask but- she couldn't help the flush across her face- even now as a demon you are just as gorgeous as the day she met you- if not more. Given how free you seemed "what the fuck do YOU want"

You smiled that same one she dreamed of seeing - the one that helped keep her sane as she fought - trained, trying to forget you. But she couldn't forget your smile. Like it haunted her "to see you Lute~ i.. missed you"

"Why the hell would you betrayer?" Snarling at that- putting her spear away, ignoring how she longed to say how she missed you as well. Her heart hurt - burned at that - at your voice. "You made your choice. Picked the demons now you want to see me? What a fucking joke. Your a fool if you believe this changed things. Thatd id miss you"

Grinning as if her words had no effect on you - you shrugged. "Guess I'm a fool then~' her temper- her grumpy self never truly bothered you even in heaven- as if? You always knew what she wanted to say "i.. wanted to say. I'm sorry for leaving you alone-"

"If you truly meant that you wouldn't have done what you did." She quickly cut you off before sighing, looking around and against her own rules if this event would ever happen - against the rules above all together, she grabbed your arm, shoving you into a room alone.

Ignoring the teasing comment, you sent her way glaring at you, making you shut up. "Stay away from the hotel. Stay away from the city. I don't give a SHIT where you go. But you fucking stay away you STAY hidden" she snarled holding your shirt

Seeing your confused face she sighed "why? Why can't I? MY friends are here. I can't just leave them.' You grumbled out not at all worried about her this close- this angry. You knew she'd never actually hurt you- no matter what occurred the day you fell. She'd never purposely do it

"I'd have to kill you. Execution day is coming. I can't save you. I can't keep you fucking SAFE. You will die." She snarled in your face getting so close- feeling your breath hit her lips- oh how she does wish to kiss you- do the thing she's always dreamed of. But she won't. NOT like this.

Not with how Lute? The most loyal executioner. The guard of heaven herself betrayed them to warn and protect a demon. What a vile thing she's done. Taking a deep breath, she ignored you, calling for her. To come back.

Lute stormed off

-

They day of the fight was like any other- fighting through the city of those sinful vile demons. Lute in her cold Killer state mercilessly slaughtered any demon her way coated head to toe in their blood no one was safe from her grasp-

Stepping close, Lute sneered down at a demon "please- dont- dont kill me, I'll do anything! Want money? Drugs - sex?" Snarling without a word stabbed the demons through their chest ending that vile fucks life

"Disgusting. No wonder you're in hell." Hissing out "begging for your life in such a sickening way after what you did it your mortal life?" Staring in disgust before amongst the chaos - amongst the screams of the demons dying and the exterminators' deaths - Lute stopped paling looking over her blood ran cold.

She saw you.

Racing over, she begged herself to catch you - she ripped the angel. Begging to save you- she didn't care about the dynamic - she didn't care. you were a demon, and how she's an angel- she WILL save you "GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF THEM-" ripping the angel off of you punching her as she took a protective stance over you bloodied spear in hand looking more freaked out hissing out "YOU DONT FUCKING HURT THEM. TOUCH THEM. DONT YOU DARE-"

Staring at angel down, watching her fly off sighing, knowing how she fucked up- knowing how she will get punished but- glancing back seeing your flushed face staring in awe at how Lute chose you. Made it all worth it in the end

"Don't get used to this," she hissed out, staring you down, cutting you off - refusing to let you thank her for this. "Don't even fucking say that ok?" Kneeling down to you checking the injury on you

"You..saved me?" Was all you could whimper out watching as Lute willingly taking care of the gash on your arm - a demons arm. Not wincing nor sneering - being uncharacteristically gentle with even you. "..but why?"

Huffing, she glared you down, grumbling at the back of her throat flushed, ignoring the signal for her immediate return. "..of course I fucking saved you. Why wouldn't I save you? My dove?" She whispered out, looking at you with those soft eyes behind her mask- shed only gave you. Never to your face, but when you weren't looking. Sighing, she stood up, straightening her mask. "Get out of town. I may not be able to save you again, " ignoring the now burning sensation from how Adam now demanded her return right then and there

"Better get going angel~ i-.. stay safe up there, Ok?" You whispered, smiling brightly, making her chest hurt in an odd way. A special one only she got to see- a odd sense of pride filled her.

Nodding, she backed up, huffing softly unable to speak the words she wished to say before turning and flying off up into the sky. Knowing this isn't gonna end well.

Love definitely changed people- no matter who they were or what they believed in before huh? Lute couldn't help but find it humorous.

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 7. Help Me To Help You

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Spynosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Reader is a baddie. Warnings: MDNI. +18. Cursed words. I only read it once, lmao. Smut. Raw sex. Vaginal. Oral. Humiliation. Reader is dom. Sukuna is sub. Word count: 4149 words. A/N: We are finally in the middle of this story. Thanks for all the support and the comments! Hope you like this chapter.

Less than 48 hours left until fight night. This time, the championship night would take place in Tokyo. It was always good to fight at home so we didn’t have to worry about traveling nor having jet lag. Sukuna and Naoya had gone through the judges and referees for the official weigh-in at the official UFC facility. Luckily, Naoya threw me a couple of flirtatious winks and didn't say a word during the brief encounter. If Sukuna found out that I betted my position as his coach, he would kill me without hesitation.

The band of the treadmill was moving under my feet. I couldn’t give up. The outcome of this fight rested on my attitude against the circumstances. My arms swayed with every step I took. I had to secure Sukuna's luck no matter what. I was losing my breath due to fatigue. Sukuna won the last fight against Toji Fushiguro thanks to me. My feet were moving on their own. Should I fuck him again?

“Hey!” Sukuna shouted in my ear, waking me up from my thoughts.

My feet stopped dead in their tracks on the treadmill, causing me to lose my balance and stumble. The band pushed me off the platform, sending me rolling to the ground. My head was spinning, so I lay down to recover. It's a lousy idea to get up suddenly after a serious fall, that's how you pass out. I knew it from experience.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today? You're acting weird lately,” Sukuna asked me, annoyed.

“Shut up,” I mumbled with a frown.

“Are you worried about the fight tomorrow?” he asked, irritated.

“Of course I'm worried! If you don't win tomorrow, I'll have to go back to the Zen’in’s!”, I thought, but I couldn't tell him that. I had gotten myself into this mess on my own, I was willing to get out of it alone and teach that jerk Naoya Zen’in a lesson.

“A little, but it will be alright. I trust your good luck ritual will work, by the way, do you have someone to fuck already?” I asked, trying not to sound too obvious.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” Sukuna scolded me between whispers, kneeling down next to me to look me at the eye. “Only Yuuji should know, but he opened his mouth and now you and Gojo know,” he whispered, after making sure no one around us was paying attention.

“Megumi knows about it too.”

“That nosy little shit,” he grumbled before desperately doing a facepalm.

I didn't think he was embarrassed by his lucky ritual. Yes, it was unconventional, but I didn't know it was a big open secret. Usually male athletes are not embarrassed about fucking multiple women, they even flex about it by bringing a different woman to their matches. I thought Sukuna would be like them, I was surprised he wasn’t.

“Get up now, you look stupid,” he said as he offered his hand to help me.

“Good thing I caught you resting, Sukuna,” Nanami announced his presence as he approached us. “Hey, weren't you supposed to leave 10 minutes ago?” he asked me directly. I looked at my watch, it was 2:10 pm. I had to leave soon if I wanted to get to my appointment on time.

“That's right! Thanks for reminding me,” I thanked Nanami before rushing to the lockers to change.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Tomorrow is fight night!” Sukuna shouted angrily as he grabbed my arm to stop me from running away.

“It’s going to help you win! I promise!” I exclaimed to get him to let me go.

“Are you going to let her go just like that?” Sukuna asked Nanami as if he was my dad.

“She asked to leave early a month ago, she told me it was important. It's in her rights as an employee,” Nanami explained calmly.

I abruptly let go of Sukuna, and he grumbled in contempt. He knew Nanami was right. If he didn't let me leave, I could file a complaint against him with HR. I assured him he would thank me later, and he death glared at me. That was so him.

At the lockers, I took off my stinky clothes from sweat training. I opened my gym bag and took out the denim skirt I had packed. The last time I wore a mini skirt was on my first date with Naoya, a special occasion. “I can't believe I'm going to wear this again,” I thought as I saw how short it was, it barely covered my butt. I had to wear it, this would be a special day too.

2 hours later on a train ride, I arrived at my not so exciting destination. The Golden Pot, a Chinese restaurant on the outskirts of Kyoto, known for having the best wonton soup in town. I never thought I would return to this place. It brought back bittersweet memories of my relationship with Naoya, as I had the best dates of my life with him here. It was amazing how the person I once grew to love more than myself became my #1 enemy.

Naoya has a less troublesome luck ritual than Sukuna. Before every fight, he must eat a bowl of wonton soup to secure his stomach and his victory. He always did this in the evenings after the official weigh-in. When he travels out of the country, he usually eats it before taking the plane. Since he was fighting in Tokyo, I knew he would be at the restaurant. I zipped up my Team Black jacket and walked confidently into the place.

The aroma of ginger and garlic permeated my nose as soon as I walked through the doors. Like any Chinese restaurant, the place was decorated with red lanterns hanging from the ceiling and golden dragons of good fortune among the long tables. The sound of sizzling dishes and the animated murmur of customers enjoying authentic Chinese food crept into my ears as I searched for the stupid blond with my eyes.

I spotted him at the table where he always used to sit. A table in a booth with red cushions and an intimate atmosphere. He was alone and undercover as if he were a spy, wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses despite being indoors. I really didn't want to approach him, but I had to be brave. I had traveled all the way from Tokyo to confront him and put him out of his comfort zone, I couldn't afford to chicken out now.

“Is it good?” I greeted him reluctantly. Naoya looked up from his bowl and took off his glasses to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. Taking his time to run down my bare legs, getting used to the idea that I was standing before him.

“Well, well… What brings you all the way to Kyoto?” He asked me with a smile.

“Since you came to visit me at the gym and my house, I thought it would be nice to visit you at your favorite place,” I replied as I sat down across from him.

“You are so cute,” he commented before eating a wonton.

A waitress came to our table quickly to take my order. She tried giving me a menu, but I already knew what I was going to order.

“I'm not going to stay long, I'll just have a wonton soup to go and an iced tea for here,” I asked.

“Are you in a hurry?” Naoya asked me, disappointed, once the waitress left.

“A little, I have to go back to Tokyo early to continue training Sukuna,” I answered.

“Do you care about him?” He asked me seriously.

“Of course I do, it's my job.”

“No, I mean, do you really care about him?” He corrected the question.

I frowned in response. It was true that Sukuna was on my mind 80% of the day, but that's because he is my job. I have to make sure he eats well, does the exercises correctly and is in his best mental state before every fight. I have seen him progress in the last four months that I have been training him, and I was proud of my work, but where was he going with that kind of question? Naoya sighed when he didn't get an answer.

“Do you like him?” he asked, confident that he knew the answer already.

“No,” I answered coldly, before he made up weird ideas in his head.

I couldn't imagine jumping from one idiot to another. Sukuna could be an amazing athlete, an extremely attractive man and a good protector, but he was still a traitor, a rude champion and someone who uses women to his advantage. We had grown up together these past few months, but I was not to be confused, he was still Sukuna Ryomen.

“This brings back so many memories. This is where we had our first kiss. We were so young and immature,” Naoya sighed as he imagined the scene.

“We are still young and immature, especially you. You still cling to the past and want to pull me with you,” I mumbled.

“What's wrong with wanting to take back what's mine?” he wondered, annoyed that I had broken his illusion.

“That I am not your property nor Zen’in’s,” I answered.

“We'll see about that tomorrow,” Naoya selfassured.

The waitress arrived with my order carefully wrapped in a plastic bag and the tea in the typical yellowish plastic cup of this kind of restaurant. I smiled as I saw the full glass in front of me, “This is what I came for,” I thought as I took a sip.

“You're right, let’s not argue now,” I thought out loud as I got up from my seat, ready to leave. “We'll see about that tomorrow,” I said with a confident smile.

I poured the iced tea over Naoya's half-eaten wonton soup. His eyes widened at the reckless act I was pulling. I was ruining his good luck ritual before his eyes. I slammed the glass down on the table in front of him to grab his attention back.

“You better not back off,” I threatened him in a low voice so that he was the only one listening to me.

“I hope you too, cutie,” he glared at me, this time he had stopped smiling to restrain himself from hitting a woman in a public place.

I left the place with my food and sighed relieved that the conversation had not escalated any further. I checked the time. It was almost 6 pm, I had to get to the train station if I wanted to make it to the next part of my plan on time.

SUKUNA POV

A sharp pain invaded my neck as I moved my shoulder again. A grunt of pain escaped from my lips as I moved it in circles as Shoko recommended. The hot water from the shower helped dull the pain. I should be embarrassed. I couldn't let such a superficial injury stop me. I had to give my 110% in tomorrow's fight as always. My honor and my title were on the line again. I shouldn't be worried though, no one knows that my shoulder is injured, and I have Y/n, who has been teaching me all of Naoya's moves. My chances of winning were still pretty high.

I let the hot water run over my body some more. I didn't want to get out of the shower, but I had to get ready to greet the prostitute I had hired in advance for tonight's ritual. I wrapped myself in my shower robe and went on to dry my hair, so I would have it ready for tomorrow. I was in my best possible shape, but aesthetics are also important for sponsors.

The doorbell echoed through the penthouse, letting me know that someone was waiting at the door. I frowned at the time. It was barely 8 o'clock, the hooker was supposed to arrive at 9. "Who the fuck is it this late?", I asked myself annoyed. I walked over to the door to see who it was.

It was a rather pleasant surprise to see Y/n through the peephole. She was waiting patiently outside the door with a plastic bag in her hands. I was going to open the door, but I saw her take off the team black gym jacket. My cheeks flushed slightly at the sight of her in something other than workout clothes. She was wearing the shortest denim skirt I had ever seen in my life and a pink shirt that allowed me to see her cleavage thanks to the height difference. I had seen her wear things that revealed her stunning body, but this was the first time I had seen something that made her look like a girl and not like someone who can kick my ass.

She started to lose her patience. She rang the doorbell again, bringing me back to reality. I was a weak man if just looking at her made me blush. “Fuck,” I thought, annoyed with myself, before opening the door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I scolded her. “Who the fuck gave you my address?”

“What a nice way to greet your coach,” she joked, sarcastically. “Nanami gave me your address. I came all the way from Kyoto to bring you a good luck wonton soup,” she explained as she handed me the plastic bag.

As soon as she moved his jacket from one arm to the other, I noticed something about her outfit that I hadn't seen through the peephole before. It was a detail I shouldn't have minded in the least, but my eyes hyper-fixated on it anyway. The pink rim of her thong protruded above her skirt, gently draped over her hip. The fact that I even noticed it surprised me. I'd seen that on thousands of models at parties, why did it matter to me so much in Y/n? Had she done it on purpose? It was hard to tell, since I only know her in working hours. This was the first time we had met outside the work environment.

“Are you going to let me in?” she wondered.

“Did you really go all the way to Kyoto to bring me a measly wonton soup?” I asked as I inspected the contents. Y/n slapped my arm at the rejection of her gift.

“It's the best soup in the world!” she scolded me, offended. “Also, I went to ruin Naoya's lucky ritual,” she confessed, embarrassed.

“Are you fucking stupid!? That's why you left training early?!” I yelled in annoyance.

“Hey! You should be thankful that I'm taking every precaution to ensure my victory!” she finished off by raising her voice to reach my volume. She always has a stupid answer for everything.

“Your victory…” I tasted the phrase in my mouth. “Are you only doing this just for yourself?”

“My victory is that you remain as the champion,” she clarified.

“Well, you did what you had to do,” I told her, ready to close the door.

“You didn't answer the question I asked you earlier,” she reminded me, it was as if she didn't want the conversation to end.

“What are you talking about?” As soon as I blurted out the question, she blushed and avoided my gaze.

“Do you already have someone for your lucky ritual?” She asked, still avoiding my gaze.

“Yes, she's coming in an hour. You can go home now,” I said, tired of explaining myself to her. I tried to close the door, but she pulled her body into the penthouse to avoid it.

“Are you sure she will satisfy you?” She asked me, almost desperate.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I yelled, opening the door again. “You've been so weird since we made the strategy! Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I just want to make sure that your ritual goes well…” she whispered in embarrassment. That sounded like a damn lie.

“Y/n!” I scolded her. She was startled by the scream and then sighed in surrender.

She told me all about her history with Naoya in a low voice. From how they met to how he continues to stalk her to this day. She told me how she came to his house out of nowhere and betted on her freedom to get rid of him once and for all. “Are you such a dumb bitch?! How could you even think of doing that!” are things I wanted to scream at her until her ears bled from her stupidity, but I couldn't do it seeing her so emotionally drained. No wonder she was so desperate, this was the only way she had to be able to get rid of him. What a mess she was in.

“Help me out, Sukuna.” Her eyes begged me for mercy, I couldn't say “no” to that.

“Come in, it better be as good as in Dubai,” I threatened her as soon as I let her in.

“I will do my best,” she promised.

Despite being shorter than me by a head and looking so tender in that outfit that left almost nothing to the imagination, this little shit pushed me against the bed with all her might. In my own house! She had already seen me naked and knew how I behaved during sex. So it was easy for her to undo the knot of my shower gown and unwrap me as if my hard cock was her birthday gift. She didn't hesitate to take it all the way into her mouth. Each suck and lick felt desperate. I knew she wanted to make me come, so she could secure tomorrow's victory, but sometimes the idea of her being really desperate to have my cock inside her for lustful pleasure tickled my brain.

“You really want to impress me, don't you?” I asked her as I took off my robe completely.

I pushed her towards my crotch, hugging her by the shoulders with my leg to show her how flexible I had become since she had taught me floor techniques. The splashes coming from her wet lips, her eyes watering from having my monstrosity in her little mouth and her hands holding my thighs to keep her balance were a sublime image. I could come just seeing her in that state.

I pulled her to me with one tug to do what I had wanted to do to her since I saw her through the peephole. I ripped off her thin pink shirt to reveal the pink lace bra that matched her thong. “She came prepared,” I thought with a satisfied smile. I usually like to remove the bra because it gets in the way, but I decided to leave this one on because it was cute. The little flowers looked so pretty over her beautiful breasts. I yanked down her skirt and reached into her slutty cave. She clung to my body as she moaned my name as praise. My fingertips rubbed her sensitive clit as they bathed in the natural lube. Y/n struggled against her own body to maintain her composure.

She took possession of my body as soon as she climbed into my lap. I thought the fun was finally going to begin, but she decided to keep playing with my senses. She took possession of my cock to rub the tip against her clit in slow circles. I bit my lower lip to keep from moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Don't be shy, I want to hear you,” she asked before gently twisting my nipple.

My eyes popped open as I felt her fingers against my sensitive spots. I think it's the first time I've ever been touched like that. She smiled as she realized the same thing I did. She approached me slowly to kiss my nipples gently. We had only slept together once, and she already knew my body better than I did. Oh Naoya, he really fumbled the bag. Poor bastard. She flicked her tongue and gently sucked on my erect nipples from the cold of the night. I closed my eyes to enjoy the tickling that ran mercilessly through my body as I moaned for her.

“How cute. Your cheeks match your hair and my underwear,” she whispered in my ear as she saw the blush that covered my face.

She shoved my cock in her all at once, bringing back memories of Dubai. This time, my back was no longer suffering from being pushed against a small wooden table. She rode my cock like a pro, making sure the tip had the biggest impact point. Her breasts bounced in my face, her moans were music to my ears and her hips were moving to the beat of a forbidden song. I wrapped my arms around her waist to hold her close to me and made sure my cock went all the way into her cervix.

She kissed me passionately without ceasing to impact her hips against me. It was wild, rushed, and powerful. She pressed my body against hers like a snake mercilessly choking its prey. I had no intention of fighting her, I could die in between her thighs and I would be so fucking happy.

I wasn't going to last any longer if we kept going like this. My mind kept repeating the national anthem to last longer in heaven, but it wasn't working. Y/n knew what she was doing, and she was doing a great fucking job. My cock was high and wet in her pussy, I wanted more, I needed more of her. My hips were moving on automatic to penetrate her fully. Her tits bouncing in my face was the best sight I have ever witnessed in my life. Y/n felt so tight and delicious, I was about to explode. Before I could help it, I came in her. My cock was slowly pumping her full.

“Are you done?” She smirked.

“Shut up,” I sighed tiredly. She pulled away from me to go to the bathroom to clean herself. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the bed. “I'm not done with you yet.”

”Huh?” She asked, confused.

“I may be satisfied, but you're not,” I told her before spreading her legs apart.

I wasn't used to eating pussy from hookers, they just made me cum and left, but seeing my coach's face all flushed and surprised made my night. She really didn't expect me to go deep into her body to finish what I had started. I dipped my head into her crotch to part her lips with my tongue. She stifled a moan and closed her legs at the tickle that ran down her back. Her thighs pressed against my face, drowning me in her delicious pussy. Y/n arched her back to bring her clit closer to my nose and thrust my tongue deeper inside her.

It was sour and sweet at the same time. I didn’t like the taste much, but I was a fan of the texture. I looked like a fucking junkie once I got used to the slimy sensation on my tongue. She pulled me by the hair to suck on her clit. I opened my mouth wide to eat the food God blessed me tonight. Y/n looked like a hot mess and I loved it. She moaned, writhed and called my name with lust.

“Just like that!” she moaned as she pushed my face, a sign that I was doing a good job.

I kept doing exactly what she asked until she squirted on my face. I jerked away confused as to what had happened. I wiped my face to see Y/n lying there like a happy starfish, arms, and legs spread across the bed tired.

“Good job,” She moaned in satisfaction with her eyes closed.

I was going to answer, but the doorbell grabbed my attention. It must be the prostitute. I wrapped my robe around me again and grabbed my wallet from the nightstand. I didn't want to waste time with her, I wanted to go to sleep soon so I could be well rested for the fight. I opened the door to find a blonde girl who reminded me of a bitch I know.

“Hi, handsome. It's nice to meet you, I always see you on the sports channel and…”

“Look, thanks for coming, but let's cancel. Someone already emptied my balls. Take 100 dollars and leave,” I said, throwing the bill at her and slamming the door in her face.

I went back to the room only to find y/n completely asleep under the covers. She looked exhausted, I shouldn't wake her up. I sat next to her on the bed and sighed tiredly. My horniness was decreasing, and I questioned whether I should let her sleep or ask her to go home. I looked at her again. She looked very comfortable and content tucked into me in the wet covers from our fluids.

“Looks like I'll be sleeping in the guest room,” I thought out loud.

Next →

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[its-time-to-write]

can i request a continuation of the jamie x kent!reader baby fever fic where they actually have a kid? the best friend’s sister trope is one of my favs and i literally eat up anything you write🤍

I had some down time today, so I wrote a little thing for this! It probably makes more sense if you read the other fics in this Kent! reader universe. Here’s a list:

take your time while you’re mine

would it be enough if i never gave you peace

let’s fall in love for the night

Thanks for requesting!!

here in my arms

Roy is holding the tiniest baby he’s ever seen. 

“There’s no way I was ever that small,” Phoebe whispers from the couch next to him, and Roy agrees. Surely Phoebe was bigger than this little bundle he’s looking at. 

“Cute little lad, ain’t he?” Jamie says from the other couch. 

Roy’s not sure what to say because on the one hand, he doesn’t want to explicitly agree with something Jamie’s said but on the other hand… this kid’s fucking adorable. 

“Jamie,” calls your voice from upstairs.

“Coming!” he replies. “You’re good here, yeah Roy?”

Roy scoffs. Is he good here. He’s Uncle fucking Roy. He’s a pro.

“Right, I’ll take that as a yes then,” Jamie says. “Food should be here in an hour. If me ’n the missus ain’t awake by then, just let us be. We don’t need food.” He gets halfway out the room before he stops and asks, “You’re sure you’re good here?”

This time, Roy fully rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Tartt. Go get some sleep before my sister fucking murders you.”

Jamie says, “Right,” salutes to Phoebe, then turns on his heel to head upstairs to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and slips under the covers. The curtains are pulled, and it’s dark in the room despite the fact that it’s only the middle of the morning.

You’re barely awake, but you’ve tried your best to stay conscious until Jamie got there. You wiggle close to him and let him pull you into his arms.

“Kid’s fucking great, huh?” he whispers into your hair.

“Hm,” you agree.

“Mum said she’ll be down in a coupla days to help out. Simon’s coming too. Is that alright?”

“Don’t care,” you say. “I need sleep, babe. Kid’s seven days old and I am already wiped out. How’m I supposed to do this for eighteen years?”

Jamie’s rubbing circles on your back, and the only thing keeping you from sleep is the thought that you might not be cut out to be a mother.

“You’ve got me,” he says. “You’re not alone, babe, plus Phoebe can babysit in another three years.”

“I am not leaving George with a thirteen-year old,” you reply. “Nothing against Phoebs, but I can barely leave him with my brother right now without worrying about him. I just wish Molly weren’t so busy because I really, really need her right now.”

A tear leaks out of your eye onto Jamie’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. “It’s alright, babe,” he says, “swear down. Mum’s a fuckin’ genius with babies. She raised me, didn’t she? And I was a fucking handful.”

That just makes you cry even harder. “I want my mum, Jamie. Why did she have to go? I wish- I wish she and dad didn’t leave us. She’s supposed to be here, supposed to help with George and hold my hand and tell me I was the exact same when I was a baby but no she and dad had to fuck off to Paris or something stupid when I was two and leave me and Molly with our cousins! It’s shit. How can you just walk out on your own kids?”

Jamie kisses your forehead and says, “Oi, look. You’re already miles better at being a mum because you’re never going to walk out on George. And mum loves you, mostly because you make sure I eat real food, but she’ll stay as long as you need. I’m off training for another week, besides. Don’t have to go back just yet.”

You sniffle. “I should’ve had him during the off season.”

“Oh yeah, because we planned George’s conception all proper-like,” Jamie retorts.

You’re silent and for a moment he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, except you shudder once, so he knows you’re still crying. Jamie holds you as tight as he can, at a loss for words. He’s pretty sure you’re just tired with fucked-up hormones and that either Molly or his mum knows how to handle this, but for now he’s at a loss for a solution. He’s trying to think of something to say when you beat him to it.

“Do you think his middle name’s dumb?”

That is certainly not what he expected to hear. “Fuck no,” he replies. “George Kent Tartt? Kid’s going places with a name like that.”

You sigh. “He’s gonna fucking hate us for that. Shit, we should’ve done something normal.”

“How the fuck is ‘Kent,’ not normal? Y’know what’s mental? The fact that me mum named me ‘James Tartt.’ Come on, babe. Jam Tart? That’s all I ever got called in primary school.”

“I did veto a lot of your choices,” you murmur.

Jamie shakes his head. “You did, didn’t you? Shame. Kid could’ve been named ‘Apple Tartt.’ He’d’ve fucking loved that.”

“For sure,” you agree. Jamie’s glad to hear that your voice is returning to its normal, sleepy state so he tries to stay as still as possible. Sure enough, you emit a small snore less than a minute later. Jamie smiles to himself and closes his eyes. He thinks he can hear Roy saying something to George and/or Phoebe, so he lets himself drift off with you.

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Like A Man Without Skin

Ghost!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Summary: Your new apartment is haunted by the ghost of the sexiest man you've ever seen. My entry for @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes Monster Smash!

Pairing: Ghost!Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit!

Warnings: Just… so much dirty talk. Pet names (Sugar, baby, sweet girl, good girl), groping, fingering, oral (f receiving but super briefly), pussy pronouns, is it vouyerism if you're watching each other?, obviously monster fucking, reader very briefly pulls her own hair? Not very heavily edited, I tried my best but if I read it one more time I'm gonna get embarrassed. Also very much a believer I ghosts (ask me about my own haunted apartments!) but I don't know how that shit works suspend your disbelief, babes!

Word Count: 3.1k

The first night, you blamed the house settling.

You had just moved to a new apartment and always had a hard time sleeping in a new place. You weren't used to the shadows that danced across your walls, that just repainted "landlord special" smell, or whatever that sound was.

That incessant crack that echoed through your living room, right outside your bedroom door, for hours. Literally fucking hours. You wanted to believe it was the floorboards creaking. This apartment was old, part of a three-story row house in a big city, and if the sleaziness of your landlord was anything to go by, it definitely wasn't up to code. You'd actually be more worried if it was silent in your apartment.

But still, the crack that… cracked… just outside your bedroom door was unnerving to say the least. It didn't sound like any "settling house" noise you were used to, but any alternative scared you too much.

That night you slept with the light on and a desk chair propped against your doorknob.

You got used to the crack in the living room after a few nights. You'd resigned yourself to the fact that it wasn't the house settling, but what it was eluded you. It never stopped, but it became a normal part of your nightly routine. Every night around 10 pm, when you'd leave your hall bathroom and shut the bedroom door behind you, it would begin.

Crack

And then a pause. You'd count to 30, and

Crack

This went on until you fell asleep. You soon started to count the noises behind your door until you dozed off - your record was 20 cracks.

On day five you got curious. Why was the noise only at night? Why was it always in the same spot? Most importantly, what the hell was making that noise?

You weren't someone who found the idea of ghosts ridiculous. In fact, the thought of being haunted seemed like a fun story to tell your friends over drinks on your usual Friday night bar crawl. If it was a ghost making that noise in the living room, that would be fine. You just didn't love not knowing.

That fifth night you performed your nightly routine like normal. Skincare, brushed teeth, pajamas. You shut the bathroom light off and walked down the hall to your bedroom. Only tonight, you left your bedroom door open. It was 9:55, so you sat upright on your bed and waited for the crack.

10 pm came and went. 10:30, 11. The crack never came. Dejected and confused, you finally shut the lights off and laid down to sleep.

You fell into a restless slumber, tossing and turning. The lack of… crack… bothered you. Why did it stop? What the hell was it?!

In your fitful sleep, you were acutely aware of the fact that your hair had found its way in front of your face, tickling your nose. You woke very briefly to push it away, but stopped any movement the second you were conscious.

Because you felt the slightest touch sweeping your hair from your face. Which was troubling because you were, of course, alone.

You shot up in bed, slamming the light switch and illuminating the room in a soft glow. You were still alone. But then… who, or what, had touched you?

"What the fuck is happening?" you mused out loud, expecting to be met with silence. Except a new sound emerged from the empty room -

Shhhhh.

"Don't tell me to 'shhh!' You 'shhh!'"

You felt crazy shouting at no one. Even crazier when you heard the noise again.

Shhhhh.

You realized this wasn't just a sound; it was… a voice. So it was a ghost!

Internally high-fiving yourself for solving this mystery, you remembered it was the middle of the night, and you had work in the morning.

"We're not done here," you said to your invisible guest, "we'll talk about this tomorrow."

Somehow you willed yourself to shut the light back off and lay back down. Still uncomfortable with the silence, you set your phone on the nightstand and let it cycle through a playlist of ambient noise. You're back to dozing off when you hear it again.

Shhhhh.

This time the sound is joined by the feeling of someone stroking your hair. A gentle, feather-light touch against your head, sometimes letting a finger trail down your cheek. You didn't want to admit it was soothing, and you already felt crazy. Thinking your apartment was haunted was one thing, but talking to the ghost seemed like a bad way to handle it. But you were oddly comforted by the presence you felt.

"You can stay until I fall asleep, then you gotta go for tonight," you whisper. The phantom hand stills on the side of your face as you speak, resuming it's soothing strokes through your hair once you finish addressing it.

The touch continues until you fall asleep, and so does the new noise.

Shhhhh.

Shhhhh.

Right before you fell into a deep sleep, you swear the noise changed a little bit.

Shhhhh.

Shhhhh.

"Sugar."

The next morning you want to chalk up the weirdness of the night before to a dream, but you know that's not the case. You wake up well-rested and ready to start the day, and notice your bedroom door had somehow shut during the night.

"Thanks for shutting the door," you speak into the empty bedroom, opening your closet to pick out an outfit for the day. You weren't expecting a response to your gratitude, but you smile when a familiar crack sounded from the living room.

You rush to open the bedroom door, knowing the living room will be empty, but knowing your ghost was there. "Hey, crack once for yes, twice for no, ok?" You feel ridiculous until one crack echoes through the room.

While you get ready for work, you play 20 questions.

"Are you a ghost?"

Crack.

"Are you… a woman?"

Crack. Crack.

Interesting… a dude ghost.

"Did you leave after I fell asleep like I asked?"

One incredibly quick crack. You appreciate him respecting you.

By now you're ready to change into your work clothes, so you decide to up the ante. "Do you watch when I get dressed?"

The two cracks couldn't have come quicker. You grin, loving that you have a gentlemanly ghost. But you want to have some fun. It's been a while since you've met a nice, living guy, and having a ghost seems like the perfect opportunity for some built-in male attention.

"Do you… want to watch me get dressed?"

Your smirk falls when no noise is made in response. You kick yourself for scaring him away. You start to stumble over an apology when you hear the same noise from last night.

"Sugar…"

"You talk?! What the hell, dude? I've been having you crack that… whatever it is, when you could've been talking to me this whole time?"

"Sorry, Sugar."

You soften. "Why wouldn't you talk to me before?"

"Too weak."

An interesting response. "What gives you energy?"

"Your attention."

Well. That felt nice to hear. "Lucky for you, dude, I have no one else to talk to around here. If it's attention you need, attention is what you'll get! Now, back to the task at hand… do you want to watch me get dressed?"

This time, a noise you haven't heard yet. A whimper.

"Please, Sugar."

You smirk, moving to stand in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom. Slowly, you bunch your oversized t shirt up over your ass, draw it above your hips, and fist the material up under your breasts, pausing to admire your own figure in the mirror. You turn to the side, watching as your reflection shakes its ass gently.

It's weird flirting with someone you can't see and barely hear. You're feeling both emboldened and shy, sexy and self-conscious. "How's this?"

"Teasin' me?"

You grin. "You said you need my attention to get strong! The longer this takes, the more attention I'm giving you! I'll ask again: this good?"

Crack. Yes.

"What the hell is that noise, anyway?" you ask, mercifully removing your shirt entirely, standing in front of your mirror in nothing but your underwear.

"Uh… a…" another whimper interrupted your ghost's train of thought. "Whip."

"A whip?!"

Crack. Yes.

"Why does a ghost have a whip?" you ask idly, thumbing the hemline of your underwear before sliding them down your legs with a shimmy.

"Long story. How long d'ya have, Sugar?"

You grab for your phone on the nightstand, realizing that if you tease this ghost anymore you'll be late for work. "No time! Last looks, dude! Gotta get dressed!" You pose for a second with your hands on your knees, bent at the waist with your ass wiggling before pulling on your work clothes.

"Really, Sugar? You're gonna leave?"

"I gotta work if I want to be able to afford this place! You don't want me to have to move out so soon, do you? There's so much more attention I want to give you," you pout into the mirror, bottom half clothed, briefly pausing to give your ghost one last look of your bare chest.

"Before you leave, Sugar, let me touch you."

You let your hands fall to your sides, remembering the featherlight touches against your cheek the night before, shivering at the thought of feeling it again. "Go ahead," you whisper into the empty room.

The touch is similar to the one last night, only now it seems stronger. This ghost wasn't kidding about attention making him stronger. Even though you couldn't see him, you can feel his presence behind you. You can feel fingers skating up your arms, stopping at the elbows and trailing back down. The touch disappears only to return on your hips, sliding from the small of your back to wrap around your front. You lift your arms slightly to accommodate him as his hands trail further up your torso, stopping just below the swell of your chest. You feel the ghost hesitate. Normally, if this were happening with someone you could see, you'd lace your fingers through his and coax his hand up to where you need to feel him, but this was all so new still. The ghost can touch you, but can you touch him? Would it look stupid to grope around for his hand? You decide your voice is your greatest asset at this moment.

"I said go ahead."

A groan erupted from behind you, right against your ear, making you shudder. You could almost feel breath against your neck, could almost feel the weight of a head against your shoulder as the ghostly hands dragged themselves up to grope at your chest. Your head falls back and you let out a sigh, your eyes falling closed. The hands tweak at your nipples before soothing the sting with a swipe of a thumb.

You're brought out of your trance when your phone rings. You feel the phantom hands retreat from your chest, a sigh heaving from behind you. Reaching to the bed to grab your phone, you see it's your boss calling. "I've gotta take this, I'm so sorry - hello? Yeah I'm just about to - oh? That sucks, what's the - yeah, no I can do that. OK, see ya!" You hang up and throw your phone back on the bed. The clothes you had yet to put on stay neglected, and what you have put on gets shucked off your body with haste. "You still here?" you call into the seemingly empty room.

Crack.

"Dude, now that I know you can talk, I'm not accepting whip cracks for an answer."

"Still here, Sugar. What was that about?"

"Good news! A pipe burst at my office - I get to 'work from home' today," you explain, making air quotes around "work from home." You know you're not getting shit done today. "So get back over here, we're not done."

You're still standing in front of your full length mirror, admiring your naked form when something starts to… happen… behind you. At first it's a thin mist, then it slowly turns into a more solid, human form. You stare in the reflection dumbfounded as your ghost materializes - he's still somewhat transparent, very obviously not human or living, but shit.

He's hot.

He's dressed in a cowboy hat and two-piece suit. And he wasn't kidding about the whip. It was curled neatly with the handle stuck in his back pocket.

"Oh my god. My house is haunted by the sexiest man alive," you muse, forgetting for a second that he can hear you. The ghost meets your eyes in the mirror's reflection, lips curling into a smirk as he tips his hat.

"Well I'm not alive, but that's mighty kind of you to say, Sugar," the ghost replies, moving closer to you again, "can I finish what I started, now that you don't have to leave? Please? It'd make me a very happy man."

You nod, watching in the mirror as the ghost reaches for you again. He skips the pretense this time, hands going straight to your chest, resuming his kneading and pinching.

"Wha- shit - what's your name? Seems backwards to let you touch me like this when I don't know anything about you," you tease.

"Whiskey. Agent Whiskey, Sugar."

You giggle. "Agent Whiskey isn't a name. What's your real name, and what are you an agent of?"

"Jack Daniels. And I'm stuck haunting this apartment, we have time to learn everything about each other. Stop distractin' me," the ghost punctuates his request with a nibble to your earlobe.

His hands, his mouth, while mostly solid, feel tingly, cold in a way that's akin to walking through fog. His breath is warm as it huffs against your neck, a delicious push and pull of sensation. He kisses down your neck and lands a bite to your shoulder, growling quietly as you moan in front of him.

"Ain't we a sight to see, Sugar? Keep your eyes forward."

Your eyes blink back open as you meet Jack's eyes in the mirror. You watch as his hands skate down your torso, hesitating close to where you want his touch the most. "Can you… will I be able to see you…?" You're not sure how being a ghost wearing clothes works, and you don't know how to ask; you hope he gets the hint.

"The suit stays on; sorry, baby. Gonna have to use your imagination. But, if it's any consolation, I used to look real nice under all this."

"I believe you. Now quit stalling and touch me," you make an experimental grab for his ghostly hand, delighted to be able to curl your fingers around his wrist and tugging it down, down to where he dips into your folds, fingers gathering the slick from your entrance and dragging it up against your clit.

"Let's move to the bed, Sugar. Need to see her."

You waste no time pulling Jack by the wrist to your bed. You prop yourself up against your pillow, legs spread wide and face flush with arousal and anticipation. You watch Jack as he stands at the foot of your bed, gazing intently at your body laid out for him.

"Jesus, Sugar. She's drippin' - it all for me?"

You give Jack a curt nod, beckoning him closer with your outstretched hand. "Come here and touch me, please." You see Jack's face change; where there was once a pained look of arousal, there's now a feral darkness that excites you.

"Since you asked so nicely, baby."

Jack puts his knees onto the edge of your bed and you feel the faintest dip on the mattress. Your breath hitches as you watch him crawl on hands and knees to situate himself between your legs. One hand holds tight to your hip while the other dips once again into your wetness, pulling away and chuckling when you try to buck up into his touch.

"Gotta be patient, beautiful. Your attention made me stronger, but I'll never be back at a hundred percent. 'm tryin'a hold you down, play along."

You agree to Jack's game and push your hips down into the mattress, curling your hand around his at your side. "I'll be good, I promise."

Jack smirks and bends his head down to whisper praise close to your ear, "that's my good fucking girl."

Jack punctuates his words with two ghostly fingers plunging into you. You moan loudly while your free hand grapples for purchase, twisting into your hair and gently pulling. "How long…"

"More than long enough, Sugar."

You swat at Jack's arm; he grins and moves his hand from your hip to slowly circle your clit. "That's not - oh fuck - what I meant. How long have you - uh huh, just like that - been stuck here?"

"Tryin'a focus, woman. Ask me in five minutes."

"Won't have to wait that long, Jack. Not gonna last."

Jack's thumb on your clit speeds up. He adds a third finger to the two working you open, the stretch delicious. Cold and warm, solid and ethereal. You could get used to this.

Suddenly Jack shifts and takes his thumb off your clit. You begin to protest, but find yourself gazing down at him, his face now level with your dripping pussy.

"Just wanna see if I still got it, Sugar."

You feel a sudden emptiness as Jack pulls his fingers free from you and you're about to protest, but before any words can leave your mouth he licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, pointing his tongue at the last second and flicking it against you once, twice…

"Fuck, I'm… shit. Jack, I'm…" Your orgasm hits so hard that what you are is incoherent. So fucked out you can't think straight. If someone asked you your name at this very moment, you wouldn't remember.

"Oh, I know you're comin', sweet girl, ain't gotta tell me. I've got a front row seat to the show. Let go, Sugar. I've got ya."

You ride the wave of pleasure for what feels like forever, hips rolling and panting, soft moans escaping from deep in your throat as you come down. When your eyes open, you find Jack staring intently at your pussy, watching it leak and pulse around nothing.

"So fucking gorgeous, Sugar. Could get used to this."

You instinctually grab at Jack's hair, gently tugging to get him to your eye level. You feel his touch against your face, gentle and cool. "You better get used to it," you smirk, "you're kinda stuck here. Don't know how hauntings work, but trust that I'm not gonna try and get rid of you. Like, ever. Not after that."

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Not really a sexual request but… thoughts on Daryl coming home upset? Like genuinely hurting over something or anxious about something. Personally I think Daryl would have some level of anxiety that every now and then can get bad so maybe something happens with that? Idk I just love your writing and wanna see your take on sad Daryl🫶🏻

UGHH I’ve been CRAVING some sad Daryl for a while I have this idea of Daryl having a mental break where he isolates himself from everyone because he has no clue how to properly communicate his feelings so instead he decides to stay in his own space and silently drown to death alone in his own thoughts.

Normalize holding adult men like babies because obviously thats what they are

I feel like lately my writing has been kinda bad?? 🧍🏾‍♀️Maybe this is just too short idk but something is OFF.

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It had been two weeks since Daryl locked himself and your heart in the basement.

He needed some space, that much was obvious, but the worrying started the first week when Daryl didn’t touch the plates of food you or Carol would leave outside the door. He never left the room, never made a sound either. If it weren’t for the years of a living in an apocalypse, you would’ve thought he was dead.

Daryl felt dead, his bone weighing heavy with emotion and anger he just didn’t know how to get out. Years of bottling up everything now seeped through his grimy skin, mind running two miles a minute as his hands fisted his greasy matting hair.

He almost felt like a teenager again, rotting away feeling sorry for himself in bed while internal screaming at himself because lord knows he couldn’t do it vocally. He pushed everyone away, he needed to. Nobody needed to see him like this. Nobody needed to deal with him like this. Nobody needed to help him like this.

Daryl knew you and Carol left food outside his door, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to eat. Didn’t deserve to drink. He didn’t wanna open the door one day and see one of you standing there with a pitiful look on your face. He didn’t need pity.

He also didn’t need the jarring sound of pounding at said door. “Go ‘way” He mumbled, but instead the door creaked open, softly shutting. Maybe he should learn how to use a lock.

“Daryl” You voice was soft against his burning ears, however he felt a twinge of anger surge through him. “Get out. Don’t need anythin” He pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed and only glancing over at where you stood with your arms tightly folded. “It’s been weeks”

He knows. “So? Gonna be another weeks too, now leave” You stood firmly in place, not budging.

Daryl screamed at himself for trying to throw you out, you of all people. Only his internal monologue didn’t match the one coming out his mouth. “Dammit woman I told ya ta leave!”

You stared at him silently, taking a few steps towards him and not faltering when he stood up, merely inches from your face. “Don’ need ya in here feelin’ fuckin’ sorry makin’ me feel worse”

“Well if it makes you feel any shitter I feel sorry for you inside and outside the door” You shrugged up at him, looking at him with a more causal expression than anything. “Why are you pushing me away Dixon?” Daryl bared his teeth at the question, angry at himself cause he didn’t know why. “Why’re ya in here?”

“That’s not answering my question” You scoffed, and Daryl turned to frustrated kick the night stand. “I don’ hafta answer tha’ stupid fuckin’ question! Why can’ ya jus’ leave me tha’ fuck alone?” He began pacing around the room, trying to put distance between the two of you continued to stubbornly close it. “Because I give a shit? You don’t get to suffer in here alone because think you deseve it”

You shoved Daryl’s chest, and surprisingly he shoved back, tears burning hot in his eyes. “Why not?!”

Your face softened and you grabbed Daryl’s hands, holding them tightly in yours. “Fucking stop!” He tried pulling himself out your grip, shaking his head as more traitorous tears spilled. Daryl grunted as you pulled his arms towards you, causing him to stumble which gave you the opening to finally capture him in a tight hug. “Get offa me” He mumbled even as his body desperately melted against yours. “It’s okay sweetheart” You whispered the words and walked backwards, lying on the bed when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“Ya shouldn’t- Ya shouldn’t see me like this” Daryl buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling an unfamiliar lump form in his throat. He no longer felt anger, but saddness. He was sad, so sad that he didn’t know what do to other then straying away. His chest hurt, and he felt so vulnerable in your arms that he just exploded, body shaking as sobs racked through him. “I’m here now babyboy, it’s okay” You, quite literally, tangled your fingers into his hair, soothingly scratching the scalp as Daryl’s tears ran down your skin and soaked your shirt.

It hurt so bad yet felt so good to finally, finally let it all out.

You moved to sit up against the wall, bringing Daryl along with you and positioning him to lay across against your shoulder, brushing hair out his red as he sniffled. You wiped his tears with your hand, staring down lovingly at him as you stroked his cheek. “Tell me what's hurting you” You whispered, listening to his soft whimpers and snotty sniffles. Daryl leaned his head against you, eyes flickering up to meet yours as he searched your face. He felt so grateful to have someone like you, caring about someone like him.

“Jus’ everythin” He whispered back.

You kissed his forehead, letting your lips linger there. “Anything in particular?”

Daryl shook his head, soaking up every ounce of attention you gave him. Each tear was wiped away by soft fingers, followed by a gentle kiss.

For the first time, Daryl felt like a little kid, huddled up sweetly in your arms as you ran your hands across his back, slowly rocking his frail frame.

He cried harder than he ever has, muffling sobs into to the fabric of your shirt. You only stroked his hair and told him that it was all okay.

And he believed you.

Daryl could physically feel the love radiating off you, seeping through his clothes and filing his weakened body.

It was so peaceful in the room beside from Daryl’s sniffing, he felt like you were the only people left on earth. As he glanced up at you through clumped lashes, he wished that you were.

“M’sorry” He mumbled.

You quirked a bow. “For what?”

“Fer pushin’ you”

“Away or earlier?” Daryl shook his head slightly.

“Both” He responded.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Ugh. I guess I forgive you”

Daryl cracked a small smile, one of his fidgety hands reaching for yours. His fingers were cold compared to yours.

“I love you” You whispered, squeezing his hand in yours.

He searched your face, eyes glassy as they once again filled up with tears. “I- I love ya too”

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