#sometimes you gotta run before you can walk

[moonshynecybin]

thinking about pool boy Marc at the ranch, world where he only does MX but never met the right sponsors so he has to work to be able to pay for competitions / the repairs on his bike

and like, this is supposed to be about Marc working shirtless and Valentino looking™️ when he shouldn’t be and Marc noticing and enjoying it way more than he would ever admit (32 yo Marc is way more confident than 20 yo Marc but whatever, details) but cue a scene where Marc ends up staring at the bikes where they’re stored (was initially looking for something for the pool / something was wrong with the pump / anything to get him there and distracted at the view), his hands maybe hovering over one, and Valentino finding him there (and obviously offering him to ride)

OOOH yeah i think its interesting if like. we tip a toe into a scenario where marc is attempting to subsidize his racing hobby (diplopia set him back maybe? its hard when hes such a goddamn prodigy but maybe his family didnt have the cash/sponsors fell through/bad injury timing. some unlucky little thing) by doing some modeling/odd jobs all with a theme best described as “BABY SLUT” and hes tearing upppp the MX amatuer classes but maybe still isnt. quite financially liquid enough to stop working his modelling jobs. and then vale is drunk and horny and bisexual SOMETIMES ! and books this sorta. comical sex kitten pool boy thing to work a party that hes throwing at the ranch as a bit. and it comes down the wire contracted out to marc's modeling agency and he looks at it. and is like is that valentino fucking rossi's house. and then before he can blink or think to call alex he puts his fucking BID INNNN and hops that comped flight to italy #yay

flash forward to this eurotrash ass tacky (vale djing like a noodle bent over the booth) shindig where marc is like. idk hes in a speedo casting his psycho killer big brown eyes around the ranch serving canapes covered in glitter. classy stuff. looks fucking GOOD and he knows it. freshly waxed ass insane abs cut smile HUGE. b-lines over to serve vale (hes a go getter. it’s that marc thing where his oblivious sorta. no malicious arrogance comes off as charming) a fucking. caviar scallop carrot reduction thing and vale FULLY double takes like what the fuckkkk because as we all know marc is his exact physical type AND as we've all been reminded fairly recently he is VERY comfortable in his own skin and in this scenario in a speedo where you can see 3/4 to 4/5 of his entire cock and balls through the fabric. so safe to say vale is distracted.

the OTHER thing about marc is that while we’ve plopped him into this slutty ass cinderella story, he is also NOT shy whatsoever so he’s just like hi :3 and they flirt cheerfully for several minutes (vale: how is life as a poolboy? marc: oh you know. we have fun jajajaja) but after a sec marc gets pulled away bc hes literally at work lmao and then immediatelyyyyy vale sucks down the rest of his negroni like a whirlpool and is like okay well. goodbye everybody ive got to go suddenly and mysteriously get more scallop caviar carrot bites because ive decided that i love them specifically for no particular immediate reason ! (cruising for penis) and they have a nice little horny talk/makeout/yap session/maybe some light over the pants stuff in the back room of the party while marc’s supervisor is like where the fuck did that kid goooo…. but then the clock strikes midnight and marc has a race in the morning so he booked the red eye back to spain and hes gotta leave !!!!! so he peels off the speedo and puts on a hoodie, and maybe he doesn’t get to say goodbye to vale bc he’s running late and he ran outta time but he walks outta that place fucking FLOATING all the way to the airport and wins his race not realizing that vale spent the rest of the night harassing staff members to get marc's information on the DL by being like ahhh i think he would be a good match for my friend she is a nice girl. and all of marc's coworkers are like dude hes gay. and vale’s like well he would be a nice match for my other friend he is a nice boy.

and then when that doesn’t work vale books the service again. and finds out somehow that marc has his motorcycle license (but not that he does MX. ignoring the huge scab on marc’s elbow i guess). and offers to bring marc out on one of his bikes for a cool lap around the track you know. just for fun. vale voice i'll ride with you it'll be safe :) and THATS when things get interesting

[novas-corner]

OH DEAR GODS PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKED MY WRITING???? I hope y’all know I’m freaking out about this, it will get to my head (my apolocheese)

Anyways, a singular person asked for more… so… more it is!!

Again with all of this I know almost NOTHING about the game, I’ve missed out on a lot of lore since I am simply a card collector… and I’m very biased towards characters 😭‼️

Also this was NOT proofread properly (I’m doing this on no sleep at eight in the morning.)

Anyways, part 1 is here!

Also I’m basing their schedules around THIS post here!! (I think it’s official stuff? Idk)

Thank you for listening to me yap… back to being isekaid!!!! (I still do not know how to spell that)

Oh also there’s angst ish in here? Idk man I’m just writing out my thoughts at this point LOL

OH FUCK AN ISEKAI

Alright well sleeping was… a nightmare. All five of them argued until you eventually gave up and went to the couch. Damn boys, they’re gonna make your life trouble and you know it. But you gotta admit… five guys fawning all over you is kinda nice! The attention? Fantastic. They give you massages? UGH, so nice.

Well… you’ll need one of those mentioned massages tomorrow, you know damn well your back is going to be killing you in the morning.

You’re surprised to see Sylus walk into the living room, sitting next to you.

“You shouldn’t sleep out here sweetie, it’s not good for your body… what if I took you back to the N109 zone with me? You could sleep in a nice comfortable bed there and there would be much more space”

You groan, sitting up

“The only way I will do that is if you bring the other four with us. You need to remember that we are all not technically in our own universes since this ISNT the main storyline of the game. I don’t want them to be stranded here, I’d feel bad about that”

He sighs, but smiles down at you, pulling your head into his lap.

“Always thinking of others before yourself hm sweetie? Be a bit selfish sometimes okay?”

You huff, but relax into his embrace nonetheless.

“Yeah… I’ll try. Why are you up anyways? Couldn’t sleep?”

He’s running his fingers through your hair (or just rubbing your bald head, idk man) and chuckles down at you.

“Oh come on, I thought you knew all about us”

He’s teasing you… cocky mf-

“The N109 zone doesn’t have a day or night technically, so my schedule is a bit off from everyone else”

Oooooooh… riiiight… you had forgotten about that, honestly there’s probably so much you’ve forgotten. You never did read through the events or stories, just let them play in the background to get more pulls for banners… maybe you should get back into the story after all this blows over… or then again… maybe you won’t have to due to being with them all the time now.

“Right… I forgot about that… well I’m… tired. So I’m going to sleep- lemme move-“

You’re trying to shuffle off his lap to not disturb him, but he just rests a hand on the small of your back and tells you to ‘not worry’ and that he can ‘handle you sleeping for a bit’

…that’s sweet…

You’re relaxing into him almost immediately and drifting off, letting your slumber take over you.

What you don’t know however, is that once sylus is sure you’re asleep, he’s analyzing you, trying to see if this was all some ploy to not be caught for cheating… but it’s really a different person. What was once a person he knew was now just someone who knew him. It was a strange feeling, they had the face of the one he loved, they almost sounded like them too— they just spoke differently. It felt so right and yet so wrong to have you there… maybe he should have Zayne give you a physical checkup tomorrow, make sure you’re healthy and all.

Sylus tries to not care for you, after all… you’re not HIS, not the person he knew. But you acted the same in so many ways… hopefully this can all be fixed. For now though, he sits running his fingers through your hair as he reads a book.

~Timeskip~

It’s morning now and you groggily wake up to the smell of bacon. You’re sitting up, rubbing your sleep ridden eyes as a cheerful voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Oh! Sorry pips, did I wake you up?”

You’re standing now, walking over to Caleb with a yawn.

“Nono… I just woke up… whatcha making?”

He’s all smiles, you’re honestly not sure how he has so much energy at six in the morning but whatever.

“Just some bacon and eggs! Want some?”

He says with a grin, pointing to the plate of bacon and eggs. You pause, eyeing the plate.

“Were the eggs made first? I’m allergic and can’t really risk cross contamination… don’t wanna die today, y’know?” (I’m reminding y’all that this is ME written as if it’s YOU. We ain’t having eggs together homies 🫵🥲)

“Oh?? Uh… I think so? Maybe you shouldn’t eat them to be safe… I’ll make you something else!”

He’s saying while already looking for something else to make… at least they know where everything in this apartment is located, I’ve got no clue.

You’re trying to find bread and hear him mumbling something about how his version of you isn’t allergic to anything… guess that’s a difference.

He sees you rifling through literally every drawer and pats you on the head.

“You know you can ask for things… right?”

“Well- maybe I just wanted to see if I could do it myself, this is technically my apartment after all… but uh… where’s the bread?”

He’s laughing at you, pointing to the bread literally in the counter, you blind blind mf. Your shoulders almost slump in defeat as you pop some toast into the toaster and open the fridge. Huh… fully stocked… that’s nice, where’s the butter though…

As if reading your mind, Caleb walks behind you and grabs the butter for you.

“Here, it’s buried in there, you wouldn’t have found it alone”

You’re just kinda looking up at him, he’d got you cages in between him and the door- HE DID THE HOT THING WHERE THEY GRAB SOMETHING FOR YOU GANG. Ugh you forget that this is a game about flirting and they’re gonna be doing that.

“Oh… right, thank you”

You’re quickly scurrying away from him— and as everyone does, you get spooked by the damn toaster. That mf laughs at you AGAIN. Jerk…

Anyways you’re buttering your toast and watching as he plates his food, having made extra for the others… that’s sweet of him.

“I usually ask my version of you to work out in the mornings… so… would you want to join me for a morning workout after breakfast?”

You look up from your toast, a mouthful and crumbs on your face, he just smiles at you as you swallow your food and wipe your face.

“Mm- sure? Im not the strongest though so expect me to not keep up.”

Which gets you thinking… how in the hell are you going to do the job of the MC??? There’s no way you could deal with wanderers… would you being here jeopardize the job the MC has? Oh gods I mean you can technically rely on the guys for money but what if they get sick of you not being their MC. Not only that, is time passing back home? Will people realize you’re gone? Are you going to end up like an unsolved crime case?

“Hey… are you okay?”

His voice snaps you out of the despair trace you were in, you look up at him with wide eyes and see him looking at you concerned.

“Oh… yeah sorry I was just thinking… I’ll join you for the workout, it’ll probably take my mind off things.”

You’re trying to keep smiling, you’ve been obsessed with these men for months and they’re literally all here, you should just enjoy this in case it’s a dream, y’know?

He’d still visibly concerned but decides to drop it, finishing his food and grabbing yours and his empty plates, putting them in the sink to wash later.

“Well let’s go workout then shall we? You can sit on my back while I do pushups? Alright pips?”

OH BOY!!! You’re standing with a smile, nodding along and following him along to the door, pausing and looking down at your clothes.

“Ooooh wait I need to change my clothes first”

You begin to wander back to what you found out is your room, walking in to see Zayne buttoning up his shirt, and Rafayel and Xavier cuddled up in bed… well more like Xavier cuddling up to Rafayel but whatever they look kinda cute, y’know?

You smile at Zayne, he just nods to you, finishing putting his shirt on.

“There’s breakfast there, Caleb made eggs and Bacon, plus bread for toast”

You’re saying as you walk over to the closet, rifling through the clothes there. You know that MC has got to have something for a workout other than this damn hunters uniform… surely right?

Oh thank the gods they do. (I actually could not find one but I’m gonna guess MC has a workout outfit)

“Are you working out? Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

You turn to see Zayne, who is now hovering behind you.

“Oh! Yeah Caleb invited me to workout with him, I guess him and the me you know worked out in the mornings”

He just nods.

“Alright, enjoy that then, I’ll be back later, I’m going to try and stay with you overnight and whatnot to see if I can help figure out what’s going on, the rest of the men have also agreed they want to be around as well.”

You just nod, biting at your lip slightly. It’s sweet that they care about you enough, but you’re sure they’re only caring because they want their old lives back. You can’t really blame them though since you just want your life back too. Again, it’s nice to be here with men you’ve simped over… but you have friends, parents… ugh be positive damnit, we can’t be depressed all the time.

“Right okay…“

You’re trailing off, not really knowing how to proceed.

“The white haired man— Sylus I believe? He mentioned that I should give you a checkup at some point today. Would you rather visit the hospital during my lunch break or wait I til I get back?”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. Oh boy these mfs are in for a TREAT, they’ll never expect the amount of things wrong with me. Huh that begs the question, will my body function differently than theirs? I mean obviously I don’t have the protocore heart and whatever else… but is it different since they’re game characters?

OH MF YOU DIDNT ANSWER-

“Probably just when you get back, I’m not really sure how to get to the hospital after all.”

He just nods, patting you on the head and walking out.

“Sounds good, I’ll expect you to be ready when I get home then. Have a good day.”

HE’S SO STOIC???? I don’t know how to feel bout that but whATEVER YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING OUT.

You gather your clothes and move over to the bathroom, as you’re getting dressed you can hear Rafayel waking up and causing a ruckus over being cuddled by Xavier. God damn he’s loud…

You’re changed now and walk back to the living room, where Caleb is sat on the couch waiting for you.

“Ah! Finally pips! Felt like I was gonna have to search for you in case you had gotten lost!”

He’s honestly adjusted really well to the fact that I’m not the me he knows. I wonder if it’s a facade, I know damn well he cares a great deal for his version of me. STOP THINKING SO NEGATIVELY. DAMN.

Anyways you’re smiling slightly at his words, listening to him yap about what he’s planning to do for his workout, it’s just going in one ear and right out the other if I’m being real.

You leave the apartment and go to the gym that I guess the apartment has? (I’m making things up as I go at this point, things will just appear as I need them too)

He’s doing weights and stuff, you’re struggling to get through his tough workout (I’m crippled sorry gang, if I gotta struggle so do you 💔)

He notices this of course and slows his pace down, eventually stopping and patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey… you don’t need to do this y’know?”

You just sigh and look up at him defeated.

“Does your version of me do this every day? That bitch is ATHLETIC.”

He laughs at you and offers to just help him with his workout I stead, which you joyfully agree to, watching Caleb workout? YES PLEASE.

So now here you are, sat on his back and counting his pushups for him. Huh, suddenly the angst from earlier is gone as you watch his ARMS??? UGHHHH 🤩

He eventually finished that up though (UNFORTUNATELY) and just looks up at you… still on his back, making it just a lil bit hard to get up.

“Pips… you gotta move y’know?- I will just roll you over, you should know this.”

Oh we gotta know what that means.

“Hm? The ground is talking, how strange…”

You’re looking up at the ceiling with an almost expectant grin on your face, which he does not fail to realize. Well you asked for it.

Suddenly he has managed to roll you off him and have you underneath him. Don’t ask the logistics of it, just go with it.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, Christ it was fast— how in the hell did he do that???

He just chuckles and gets off of you, offering a hand out for you to take, which you do and he pulls you up. "l have to say, you don't act all that different, it's easy to forget you're not the same person I've known." OUCH????? OK ANGST IS BACK IG??? He's walking you back up to your apartment, the hand he used to help you up now wrapped around your shoulder "Oh?.. is that... a bad thing?" "I suppose it isn't! It makes you fun to be around!" "Ah okay..." You trail off, you know what you want to ask but... "What happens if you can't get... the other me back?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think to stop them, he almost freezes in his tracks but keeps walking, smile faltering slightly. "I'm... not sure..." "Would you stick around knowing I'm not the person you knew? Or are you just here to get them back?"

He doesn't know how to answer you, because of course he wants his version of you back... but would he just.. leave? He doesn't even know himself. "For now lets not worry about that, okay pips? I'm here now and that's all that really matters, we'll figure everything out eventually" You just nod, looking down and mumbling a small apology... well that's... sad. So anyways you finally make it back to the apartment, and head to your room to grab a basic outfit.

Xavier is STILL asleep- does this mf have narcolepsy??? Whatever, you grab your outfit and turn to go to the bathroom, you need a shower to think again, plus you smell like sweat.

The door to the bathroom is closed when you get there, you knock only to hear Rafayel telling you to come in. You walk in and OH MY STARS-

“OH- sorry didn’t realize you would be IN the bath- I can come back later I’m so sorry-“

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No no it’s okay, did you need something?”

He’s asking with a slight tilt to his head. Dear gods man he is sculpted like a god, probably because he literally is one- STOP STARING.

You manage to snap yourself out of it, face absolutely red and looking down at the clothes in your hands.

“Sorry I was just trying to shower and get dressed- I can do so later-“

He’s sitting up in the bathtub, motioning for you to come closer.

“You can come bathe with me if you’d like? I don’t mind sharing.”

SIR?????? You are red as a lobster and I fear he is reveling in this fact— HOW IS HE SO CALM ABOUT THIS????

“No- that’s fine I’ll just… see myself out… thanks for the offer though”

You manage to mumble out, looking anywhere but at him and finally turning yer butt around to walk out. You hear him chuckle behind you and call out to you as you shut the door, playful as ever.

“Your loss Mx bodyguard!!”

TEASING MF. Ok anyways we need to find somewhere else to change it seems. So you opt to just shut yourself in the little closet and get changed. Xavier is still asleep in bed, which is kinda cute, he’s out like a ROCK. Honestly and earthquake could pass through and not much would happen I fear.

You wander around the place, Caleb, Zayne and Sylus are all out somewhere, Rafayel is in the bath and Xavier is asleep. There’s… not much to do.

You’re tired though and you slept on the couch, so you find yourself walking over to your room and climbing into bed opposite to Xavier.

You pass right out.

—————————————

Gang I’ll be honest, you could FEEL it falling apart at the end😭‼️

In my defense, it’s almost eight in the morning and I have not slept.

I wrote myself into a bit of a corner too since there’s like… nothing going on ‼️‼️‼️

I also do not know how to write seggsy time so I had to QUICKLY 180 from that.

Anyways I have ideas for another part, if people don’t burn me at the stake for being a crap writer I might add another part to this disaster LMAO

Okok yap session is over, thank you for reading this !! 🤩

Tag list ?!?!

@lunia-likes-pomegranet

[bunniesssstuff]

MAYBE IN OUR NEXT LIFES?

pairing Nishimura Riki x reader

warnings none for this chapter, maybe you embarrassing yourselves a lot? genre romance, slice of life, angst, unrequited love,

word count 8.8K

CHAPTER ONE- The Fine Art of Tripping Into Trouble

The sun was far too bright for a girl who had overslept. You tumble out of bed with the grace of a knocked-over bookshelf, hair a tangled mess, breath still tasting of midnight snacks.

“Y/N L/N!” your mother’s voice echoes through the small apartment like a daily alarm clock. “You’re going to miss the bus again! If you think I’ll drive you to school today, think again!”

In the kitchen, your father sits calmly at the table, sipping his coffee in between flipping through his phone. His hair is still damp from the shower, a doctor's coat casually slung over the chair. He looks up as you stumble into the room, one sock on, the other nowhere to be found.

“Late night reading again?” he asks, a smile playing at his lips. “Or were you studying the fascinating anatomy of procrastination?”

You groan, grabbing the toast your mother has practically shoved into your hand. “Biology, actually. You should be proud.”

“Was it biology before or after you got distracted with those dramas you watch?” your mother cuts in, arms crossed but eyes soft. She marches over, holding a bowl of rice miso soup and fried eggs. “You cannot go to school on an empty stomach. Sit. Five minutes won’t kill you.”

“I’ll miss the bus!”

“Five minutes won’t kill you,” your mother repeats, already shoveling a spoonful of rice towards your mouth.

Defeated, you sit, letting yourself be mothered. Your father chuckles as he adjusts his tie. Between bites, he shares a story about a patient who had insisted he was “dying of a broken heart,” only to be diagnosed with the flu. You listen with half a smile, cheeks puffed with rice.

The clock is merciless.

“I’m going, I’m going!” you announce, scrambling to grab your bag. But before you can escape, your mother corners you, planting rapid-fire kisses on your cheeks, forehead, and nose.

“Have a good day, my baby. Don’t forget your umbrella. Weather says it might rain tonight.”

“It’s literally blue skies right now—”

“Mothers are always right.”

You can’t argue with that. You wriggle free, breathless and slightly sticky from lip balm, and dash out the door.

Outside, the air is crisp, the sun too bold for a morning this chaotic. You jog down the street, breath evening out as your pace settles. That’s when you see her.

“Konon-san!” you wave as you catch up to the tall, elegant girl strolling leisurely ahead.

Konon Nishimura, Riki’s older sister, looks effortlessly graceful even on a sleepy weekday morning. She turns, offering you a small but genuine smile.

“Running late again?” Konon asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“As usual,” you grin sheepishly. “How’s the dance studio? Still managing to make first-years cry?”

Konon laughs, a soft, melodic sound. “Only the ones who think it’s going to be easy. You should come by sometime. You have good rhythm.”

You snort. “I have good rhythm when no one’s watching.”

You walk side by side for a moment, a peaceful silence settling between you. Konon has been tutoring you in math for months now—patient, composed, far too kind for how much you struggle with numbers. You aren’t exactly close, but there’s a quiet fondness there.

As the bus rounds the corner, your survival instincts kick in. “Gotta run. See you later, Konon-san!”

You sprint the last few meters, barely catching the bus as the doors hiss shut behind you. Breathless, you make your way down the aisle, searching for an empty seat. That’s when you see him.

Nishimura Riki.

Slouched by the window, earphones in, eyes half-lidded, he looks like every K-drama male lead ever written. Cool. Unbothered. A little too perfect. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, catching the sunlight in a way that makes you roll your eyes at yourself.

You’ve shared a few classes since first year—History, English, that one terrible year of Physics—but never once have you spoken directly. Not even a “Hey.” Not even a nod. Neighbors, technically, but worlds apart.

You slide into a seat one row in front of him, carefully not looking his way. You aren’t delusional. Boys like Nishimura Riki don’t notice girls like you. Not in that way. And that’s fine.

Mostly.

The bus ride is uneventful, filled with murmurs of sleepy students and the occasional burst of laughter from the back. You stare out the window, letting the rhythm of the city wake you up.

When you reach school, you hop off quickly, weaving through the crowd until you spot familiar faces near the gate.

“Hana! Aoi!” you call, waving.

Hana is the louder one—sharp, sarcastic, and endlessly loyal. Aoi is softer, always scribbling in her notebook, but her quiet observations miss nothing. Together, they are your safe space.

“Running late again, Y/N the Explorer?” Hana teases, looping an arm through yours.

“New record today,” you grin. “Managed to eat breakfast and still catch the bus. Barely.”

“Miracles happen,” Aoi says, lips curving up.

The three of you walk toward the school building, chatter blending with the hum of a normal, sunny morning.

Behind you, unnoticed, Nishimura Riki follows at his own pace. Earphones in. Eyes forward.

But once—just once—his gaze flickers to the back of your head. -

First period is English Literature, and for once, you aren’t dreading it. Mr. Sakamoto is one of the few teachers who doesn’t see you as just another average student. He cares more about what you think than what you score.

“Today,” he announces, clapping his hands once to get the class's attention, “we’re talking about ‘unspoken feelings’ in literature. Specifically, the kind that never gets confessed.”

You almost laugh. How poetic. How ironic.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Nishimura Riki at his desk, head propped on his hand, seemingly uninterested. But you know he isn’t sleeping. He never really does. He just watches the world quietly, like someone outside looking in.

The lesson flows on. You answer a question, your voice steady but not eager. Not trying to stand out. Just… present. The way you always are.

Second period drags—Mathematics, naturally. Numbers blur, equations taunt you, but you keep your head down. You imagine Konon’s patient voice beside you, walking through problems step by step. It helps. A little.

By the time the lunch bell rings, the school feels alive again. The static weight of morning classes lifts, replaced by chattering voices, slamming lockers, the squeak of sneakers on tile floors.

You are heading toward your locker when you spot a small crowd forming in the courtyard. A boy—Takahiro, from Class 3-C—stands there holding a folded letter. His face is red, his hands fidgeting. Opposite him stands Hana.

Oh no.

“L/N! Come watch your best friend break another heart,” Hana calls out without shame, waving you over.

You approach reluctantly, Aoi beside you, notebook in hand as if ready to record the moment.

Takahiro takes a deep breath. “Hana-san, I… I like you! Please go out with me!”

The silence is brutal. Even the wind seems to pause.

Hana sighs, tilting her head slightly. “Takahiro-kun, do you like spicy food?”

He blinks. “Uh… yes?”

“Good. Because rejection is spicy.” She smiles sweetly. “You’re a nice guy, really. But I’d rather date a brick wall. Sorry.”

The crowd winces collectively. Takahiro mumbles something and retreats, face redder than a stop sign.

“Hana, you could try a little more tact,” you whisper, though you’re used to it by now.

“I could,” Hana replies, unbothered. “But then they’d keep trying. Mercy is cruelty in disguise.”

Aoi scribbles something in her notebook. Probably a new quote for her poetry collection.

“Come on,” you say, steering them away. “Let’s eat outside. It’s too stuffy in there.”

You make your way to the school’s courtyard garden, a small, peaceful area shielded from the chaos. Under a large cherry blossom tree—green now, blossoms long gone—you lay out your lunches.

The sun filters through the leaves, dappled patterns dancing across your bent heads as you unwrap rice balls, sandwiches, and juice boxes.

“I swear,” Hana complains, biting into her sandwich, “boys think liking a girl is enough of a reason to date them.”

“You’re just intimidating,” Aoi offers, chewing thoughtfully. “They don’t know how to handle you.”

You smile, listening more than talking. You love this part of the day. Just the three of you, no need to impress anyone, no noise but your own.

From where you sit, you have a clear view of the other side of the courtyard. A group of boys lounges near the benches, laughing over something on their phones. Among them sits Nishimura Riki.

He isn’t laughing.

While his friends joke, shove each other, and make a general spectacle, Riki sits with one leg propped up, elbow resting casually, earbuds in—but his eyes aren’t on his phone.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder what he’s listening to. Rock? Classical? Something sad? You will never know.

You aren’t looking at him, not really. Just… observing. Like anyone would.

And yet, as if he senses the attention, Riki’s gaze flicks up.

Your eyes meet.

It is nothing. A second. A heartbeat.

You look away first, pretending to fix your skirt, though your pulse has picked up just enough to make you annoyed with yourself.

“You’re spacing out again,” Hana says, narrowing her eyes. “Daydreaming about Mr. Sakamoto giving you extra credit?”

You snort. “I’m not that desperate. Yet.”

But Aoi’s soft smile says she’s noticed the direction of your glance. She says nothing. She never does.

Lunch passes in easy conversation. You debate whether Shakespeare’s lovers are hopeless romantics or just plain stupid. You get teased about your upcoming math test and how you’ll inevitably need to beg Konon for help again.

All the while, you resist the urge to glance back. To check if Riki is still there. If he is still watching.

He isn’t, of course. He has his world. You have yours. -

After lunch, the day rolls on with the steady rhythm of school life. A history quiz here, a group project discussion there. Ordinary. Forgettable. Yet somehow, these moments stack up, building something invisible but real.

In the final period, Biology, you find yourself paired with Aoi for a lab activity. Dissecting plant cells under the microscope, scribbling down observations.

At one point, you catch yourself doodling in the margin of your notes—nothing fancy, just random lines that somehow turn into cherry blossoms. Subconscious, maybe. You blame the tree from earlier.

As the final bell rings, students flood the halls, voices bouncing off the walls like echoes of a day well-spent—or endured.

You pack up slowly. No rush. Your parents won’t be home till late, as usual.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, you notice something unusual.

Nishimura Riki is standing by the classroom window, earbuds gone, staring out at the courtyard tree.

He isn’t waiting for anyone. His friends have already left. He’s just… there.

The sunlight frames him in a way that is unfairly cinematic. If life were a drama, this would be the scene where the male lead broods about unspoken feelings. But this is real life. And in real life, you, Y/N L/N, are just a normal girl who will walk right past him and go home.

So you do.

But as you pass the window, you allow yourself one small glance sideways.

He doesn’t look at you.

Still, something about that moment clings to you like the sticky heat of early summer. Not love. Not yet. Just… something. -

The bell has barely stopped ringing before Hana grabs you and Aoi by your wrists, dragging you out of school like a woman on a mission.

“Today,” Hana declares, “is not a homework day. Today is a ‘we deserve nice things’ day.”

“We always deserve nice things,” Aoi says mildly, adjusting her glasses.

“Exactly. And that’s why we’re going shopping.”

You’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile when Hana sets her mind to something. Plus, you can’t deny it—after a week of classes, quizzes, and the exhausting act of existing, a little retail therapy sounds divine.

The city is alive with the glow of late afternoon. Shops spill over with weekend sales, cafes buzz with chatter, and the streets hum with life. It is the kind of ordinary magic you love best—not grand, not special, but warm in its own way.

First stop: a tiny boutique Hana has been obsessed with lately. The three of you squeeze between racks of pastel skirts, oversized sweaters, and way too many useless but adorable accessories.

“This is giving main character energy,” Hana says, holding up a ridiculously frilly blouse.

“You’d look like an idol,” Aoi adds, barely hiding her smile.

You snort. “I’d look like a walking doily.”

But somehow, they convince you to try it on anyway. The fitting room becomes a stage for laughter, exaggerated poses, and terrible selfies. You twirl once, mock-modeling while Hana gives a dramatic gasp.

“She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s trying not to trip on lace.”

By the time you leave the store, none of you have bought the blouse, but all of you have memories saved on your phones.

Next is snacks. Obviously.

A small street vendor is selling taiyaki, and it is practically illegal to pass by without getting one. You bite into the warm, sweet red bean filling, sighing like it is therapy.

“This,” you mumble with your mouth full, “is what happiness tastes like.”

Aoi nods, holding her own taiyaki carefully, as if it were a sacred artifact.

Hana, however, is already scouting for your next target. “We need bubble tea. Stat.”

The next hour passes in a blur of sugary drinks, browsing through bookstores, and impulse-buying matching hairpins you don’t need. You stop at the arcade, where Hana insists on demolishing you in every rhythm game, while Aoi quietly dominates the claw machines.

By the time the sun begins to dip, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and pink, you are comfortably exhausted.

“Let’s go to my place,” you offer as you wait at the bus stop. “We can pretend to do homework and actually watch dumb web series.”

“Sold,” Hana says immediately.

Your house is small but cozy. . The kind of place where mismatched cushions and old family photos make everything feel warm.

You kick off your shoes at the door, flop dramatically onto the living room floor, and sigh in unison.

“Productive day,” Aoi says, already pulling out her notebook.

“Very,” Hana agrees. “We bought absolutely nothing useful and burned thousands of calories laughing.”

“Success, then,” you smile, heading to the kitchen to grab drinks.

It isn’t long before you are sprawled across your room, snacks strewn across the floor, textbooks open but ignored. The current episode of your favorite web series plays in the background, but the real entertainment is, as always, gossip.

“So,” Hana says, turning to you with a knowing look, “hypothetically, if a certain quiet boy from a certain family happened to be, I don’t know, staring at you a lot, would you notice?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your tone light. “Depends. Hypothetically, are we talking about a serial killer or a socially awkward neighbor?”

“Same energy, honestly,” Hana grins.

Aoi hums thoughtfully. “Konon mentioned her brother’s been…distracted lately.”

You throw a pillow at both of them. “We are not doing this.”

They are, in fact, doing exactly this.

Somewhere between gossip and giggles, Aoi’s gaze shifts toward the window.

“Uh, speaking of hypothetical boys,” she says casually, “your balcony has an admirer.”

You frown, crawling over to peek through the curtains.

There he is.

Nishimura Riki. On his balcony. Leaning against the railing, half in shadow, half bathed in the orange glow of sunset. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—are locked on your window.

“Holy. Shit.” Hana is already scrambling for her phone. “Is he… is he actually just standing there? Staring?”

“It’s probably nothing,” you whisper, though your heart is absolutely not listening.

“Nothing my ass,” Hana says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “This calls for an intervention.”

Before you can protest, Aoi is reaching for your sketchbook, tearing out a clean page.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, already panicking.

“Sending a friendly neighborhood greeting,” Aoi replies, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

In seconds, they have crafted a paper plane—doodles of badly drawn cats, music notes, and a lopsided smiley face covering the wings.

“No, no, no, this is not happening,” you scramble to stop them, but Hana is already at the window.

“Too late.”

With a flick of her wrist, Hana sends the paper plane sailing through the air.

It glides across the gap between your balconies, wobbling dangerously, and for a terrifying moment, you think it will crash land. But then, effortlessly, Riki reaches out and catches it.

Time freezes.

He unfolds the paper slowly, eyes scanning the chaotic scribbles. For a moment, his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but close enough to send you into full-blown crisis mode.

“Oh my god, oh my god, what do we do?!” you whisper, frantically waving your hands, trying to signal that this was not your doing.

Riki looks up.

Your eyes meet.

You flail, mouthing, “It’s not me! My friends! Crazy! Ignore them!” while Hana and Aoi are doubled over in laughter, no help whatsoever.

Riki tilts his head slightly, as if considering his next move.

Then, calmly, he disappears into his room.

You exhale. Maybe he’ll just pretend it never happened. Maybe you can bribe the universe to erase the last five minutes.

But no.

A minute later, he returns—with his own paper plane.

He launches it with the kind of precision that makes you wonder if he practices this in his free time. The plane soars, graceful and unbothered, landing perfectly on your desk.

“What the—” Hana grabs it eagerly, unfolding it.

There are no words. Just a single, perfectly drawn doodle of a cat—wearing sunglasses, lounging under a tree, holding a tiny sign that says: “Nice aim.”

Your soul leaves your body.

“I’m going to die,” you mutter, burying your face in a pillow.

“Not before I frame this masterpiece,” Aoi says, smoothing out the paper.

Outside, Riki leans against his railing again, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Hana cackles. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re in a rom-com now.”

You peek out from under the pillow, heart racing, face flushed.

Maybe it is embarrassing. Maybe it is ridiculous. You are not okay.

Your two best friends are howling with laughter, rolling around your bedroom floor like goblins. Meanwhile, you are pacing like a trapped cat, one hand clutching your hair, the other flailing dramatically every few steps.

“He sent a plane back, Hana. He sent one back!” you hiss, as if saying it louder will make it less real.

“That’s generally how communication works, Y/N,” Aoi says, adjusting her glasses as she carefully refolds Riki’s paper plane. “Message received, message returned. Very efficient.”

“Efficient?! This isn’t email, this is—this is social suicide!”

Hana snorts. “You’re being dramatic. It was cute. Very K-drama of him. Honestly, you should thank us.”

“Thank you? THANK YOU? For making me look like a lunatic in front of Nishimura Riki? I’m never leaving this room again.”

“Relax, he didn’t seem mad,” Hana says, wiggling her eyebrows. “If anything, he looked amused. That’s a win.”

You groan, flopping face-first onto your bed. Your pillow muffles the scream, but it does nothing for your spiraling thoughts. You can still see his face—calm, unreadable, but with that stupid, tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Why is it always the quiet ones who know exactly how to fluster you?

Your internal meltdown is interrupted by the sound of your mother’s voice echoing up the staircase.

“Y/N! Come down, I need you to help me with the groceries!”

“I’m busy dying of embarrassment, Mother!” you call back.

“Then you can die after you carry these bags!”

Defeated, you heave yourself up, muttering curses under your breath. As you rush toward the stairs, your socked foot betrays you.

One slip. One misstep. Disaster.

Your foot skids out from under you, and before you can grab the railing, you are airborne.

The scream that tears out of your throat could’ve won awards. It echoes through the house, through the windows, through the entire neighborhood.

“AHHHH—OHMYGOD—”

Thump. Thud. Crash.

“Y/N?!” your mother shrieks from the bottom of the stairs, groceries forgotten.

From his balcony next door, Nishimura Riki straightens up, earphones pulled out as he peers over, eyebrows lifted in mild concern.

You lie at the bottom of the stairs, pride in shambles, body intact but dignity dead.

“I’m fine,” you groan. “Just rehearsing for the stunt double career I never asked for.”

Your mother stands over you, hands on her hips, torn between worry and exasperation. “One of these days, you’re going to be the death of me, child.”

“Join the club,” you mumble, accepting your mother’s hand to haul yourself up.

From somewhere upstairs, Hana’s voice floats down. “10 out of 10, Y/N! Even Riki heard that one!”

Your soul leaves your body a second time. -

It is one of those mornings.

The kind where everything seems fine on the surface. The birds chirp. The sun shines. The universe whispers, “Today will be different.” And for once, you, Y/N L/N, believe it.

You wake up on time. You take a long, glorious shower, the kind that makes you feel like you have your life together. Hair freshly washed, skin soft, wearing your favorite uniform combo (the skirt that doesn’t make you feel like a potato), you are ready to face the world. The universe has a cruel sense of humor.

Despite your best efforts to become invisible, the sun insists on shining, the birds insist on chirping, and life insists on moving forward.

You find yourself on your small balcony, watering your plants—because apparently, neglecting them isn’t an option according to your mother.

You hope—pray—that Riki will be somewhere far away. Like Mars.

Fate, of course, laughs.

“Morning,” a voice says.

Your hand jerks, nearly overwatering the poor basil plant.

There he is. Nishimura Riki. On his own balcony, casually leaning against the railing like a scene out of a coming-of-age drama. Earphones around his neck. Lazy Sunday energy.

“Morning,” you manage, voice cracking like a prepubescent boy.

He says nothing more. Just resumes his position, looking out over the street. Peaceful. Unbothered.

You, on the other hand, are one heartbeat away from combusting.

Stay cool, you tell yourself. Water the plants. Pretend you’re normal. Breathe.

You focus on the mint leaves, adjusting the flow of water, humming a tune to yourself as a distraction. Everything is fine. Normal. Calm.

Until it isn’t.

Movement in the street below catches your attention.

Mrs. Tanaka—one of your long-time neighbor aunties—is walking down the sidewalk. Nothing unusual there. But what is unusual is the fact that she isn’t alone.

Mr. Suzuki, from three doors down, strolls beside her.

And they are holding hands.

Which wouldn’t be scandalous if, you know, Mrs. Tanaka’s actual husband wasn’t currently in Osaka on a business trip.

Your eyes widen. Your watering can freezes mid-pour.

Mr. Suzuki laughs at something Mrs. Tanaka says, his thumb gently brushing over the back of her hand.

The watering can slips.

In slow motion, you watch it fall from your balcony, water cascading like a tiny waterfall, before gravity claims it.

Clang.

The metal watering can hits the pavement with a spectacular crash, narrowly missing the scandalous couple.

Mrs. Tanaka jumps. Mr. Suzuki’s grip tightens.

You stand frozen, mouth open, hands still outstretched as if you can catch the can with telekinesis.

From downstairs, your mother’s voice thunders.

“Y/N L/N! What in heaven’s name are you doing now?! Are you trying to kill someone?!”

“Sorry!” you squeak, ducking behind the railing in a failed attempt to disappear.

A soft chuckle drifts from next door.

You dare a glance sideways.

Riki is watching you. Not with judgment. Not with amusement either. Just a quiet, knowing look. The kind that says: You’re ridiculous. But also, this is hilarious.

Your face burns. You give him an awkward nod and scramble back inside, muttering, “I hate everything.”

Behind you, Riki’s lips curve into the smallest, most infuriating smile.

That evening, as the sky turns dusky pink, you stare up at your ceiling, replaying the day’s events.

Falling down stairs. Scandalous hand-holding. Attempted murder via watering can. And Riki. Always Riki. Quiet, observant, somehow always there when your life turns into a circus.

Maybe you should’ve been mortified.

Maybe you should’ve sworn off balconies for life.

But as ridiculous as it is… a tiny part of you can’t help but laugh.

Just a little. -

“Look at you, all grown up,” your father teases as you rush through the kitchen, toast clenched between your teeth like an anime protagonist.

“I’m turning a new leaf, Dad. Today, I shall be punctual and graceful.”

Your mother snorts from the living room. “You’ve said that every Monday since middle school.”

But you aren’t fazed. You grab your bag, sling it over your shoulder with newfound confidence, and kiss both your parents on the cheek.

“Mark my words, today is my day.”

If foreshadowing were a person, it would’ve laughed in your face.

The air outside is fresh, slightly crisp. Perfect walking weather. You strut down the street, earbuds in, playlist vibing, feeling—dare you say it?—like the main character.

And then you see him.

Nishimura Riki.

Leaning against the bus stop pole, hands in his pockets, earphones in, hood half-up, casually destroying your inner peace.

The universe is sick. It can’t let you have one morning of delusion.

You consider walking past, pretending you haven’t seen him. But no. That would be suspicious. You are neighbors. This is normal.

Be normal, Y/N. Breathe. Walk like a human.

You approach, offering the most neutral, casual nod you can muster. “Morning.”

Riki tilts his head slightly. “Morning.”

Great. That is the extent of your interaction. Perfect. Normal. You can handle this.

You stand there, side by side, the silence oddly comfortable. Or it would’ve been, if your own brain wasn’t busy narrating every second like a live commentary. Okay, standing. Good. Casual glance his way? No, bad idea. Focus on the road. But fate, as always, has other plans. Your shoe catches on a crack in the pavement. Your ankle twists. And like the clumsy protagonist you never wanted to be, you, Y/N L/N, trip. Not on a rock. Not on a stray object. On your own two feet. “AH—!” you squeal, flailing dramatically, managing to catch yourself just in time before you face-plant onto the sidewalk. The world stands still. You straighten up as if nothing happened, refusing to meet Riki’s eyes. Your soul has already detached from your body. Maybe if you walk fast enough, you can leave it behind. He says nothing. Thank God. But you can feel the weight of his gaze. Not mocking. Just… existing. Which makes it worse. Kill me now. The bus, in all its traitorous glory, arrives right on cue. A small crowd has gathered by then—students, office workers, a couple of sleepy grandmas. All potential witnesses. You keep your head down, climbing the steps carefully. Or so you think. Your foot misses. You trip again. This time, spectacularly, arms flailing as you stumble forward, nearly toppling into the bus driver. A collective gasp ripples through the bus.

You right yourself, face burning, mumble a garbled apology, and rush to the nearest empty seat, shrinking into it like a snail retreating into its shell. From the corner of your eye, you see Riki step onto the bus, calm as ever, as if you haven’t just given everyone a morning comedy show. You bury your face in your bag. Today is not my day. Today is never my day. By the time you reach school, the clouds have gathered like a bad omen. The moment the bus doors hiss open, the sky decides it’s done being polite. It pours. Buckets. You stand frozen at the bus stop, watching students pop open umbrellas like magic tricks. You reach into your bag, praying for a miracle. Nothing. No umbrella. No jacket. Just vibes. “Of course,” you mutter. You sprint towards the school building, rain soaking through your uniform in seconds. Your shoes squelch. Your hair plasters itself to your face. You are a drowned rat. “Y/N! Over here!” Hana’s voice calls out. Under the safety of an enormous umbrella, Hana and Aoi wave you over. “Why does this feel so personal today?” you groan as you duck under their umbrella. “You look like a tragic romance heroine,” Aoi observes, dabbing your soaked hair with a tissue. “A tragic idiot, more like,” Hana giggles, wringing out the hem of your blazer. “How do you forget an umbrella when you live in a city that rains every other day? Didn’t your mom warn you?” “She did. I didn’t listen. Life lesson learned.” The bell rings, warning you of the looming start of first period. “Go dry off before you catch a cold,” Aoi says, giving you a gentle shove toward the building. You dash to the restroom, attempting damage control. The mirror doesn’t hold back. Frizzy hair, wet collar, mascara smudged just enough to make you look sleep-deprived. You sigh, using the hand dryer in a desperate attempt to salvage your appearance. By the time you finish, the hallways are empty. “Late again. Great,” you mutter, adjusting your bag and rushing toward your classroom. And because the day hasn’t humiliated you enough, fate throws in one more surprise. You turn a corner too fast and collide with someone. Hard. “Ah, sorry!” you gasp, stepping back, clutching your arm. The boy you’ve crashed into blinks, equally flustered. He isn’t familiar—definitely not from your class. Tousled brown hair, taller than you, sharp features softened by the dazed look on his face. “My fault,” he mumbles, bowing slightly, as he picks up your books and hands them to you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you both mutter apologies again and scurry off in opposite directions. You don’t notice the way he turns back once, watching your retreating figure. You are too focused on reaching your classroom without causing another scene. Class resumes as normal. Mostly. Mr. Sakamoto gives you the usual “You’re late but I like you enough not to scold you” look. The lessons blur together—math, history, the usual suspects. - By lunchtime, you are ready to crawl under your desk and never emerge. “Alright, spill it,” Hana says, plopping down beside you. “You’ve been fighting for your life all morning.” “Life’s been fighting me,” you correct, poking half-heartedly at your bento. “Today’s cursed.” “Well, allow me to brighten it up,” Aoi says, adjusting her glasses with a suspiciously shy smile. You and Hana both raise your eyebrows. “I… like someone,” Aoi admits, her cheeks dusted pink. “You—what?!” you almost drop your chopsticks. “WHO?” Hana demands, eyes gleaming. Aoi hesitates. “You know Nishimura Riki’s best friend? Hayato?” You blink. “Hayato Hayashi? The loud one?”

“He’s not loud, he’s energetic,” Aoi defends, lips curling into a soft smile. “He’s funny. And kind. He helped me pick up my notes last week.” “Oh my god,” Hana says, dramatically clutching her chest. “Our little Aoi has a crush. This is historic.” You stare at your quiet, composed friend—now visibly flustered—and can’t help but smile. “Okay, this is adorable. We’re getting you two married.” “Can we start with a ‘hello’ first?” Aoi mutters, hiding behind her notebook. For the first time all day, your chaotic energy settles into something warm. Maybe the universe isn’t entirely cruel. - The thing about art class is that you actually like it. Unlike math, which personally attacks your soul, or physics, which seems like black magic, art is simple. Therapeutic. It doesn’t demand perfection. Just a brush, some colors, and a bit of patience. Today, though, patience is in short supply.

You are halfway through painting a still life of a sad-looking vase when it happens. A clumsy elbow, a loose grip, and the small jar of crimson paint tips over—straight onto your apron. Your Hello Kitty apron. The one you love. The one with tiny strawberries and little cartoon bows. The one that has survived three years of art class and countless washing cycles. Now, a blood-red splatter blooms across its front like a murder scene. “OH, COME ON!” you yelp, staring in horror at the stain. Aoi’s eyes widen. Hana drops her brush with an exaggerated gasp. “Y/N’s been attacked. Casualty confirmed,” Hana announces dramatically. “I don’t think that’s coming out,” Aoi says gently, already pulling tissues from her pencil case. Before you can descend into a full-blown crisis, a shadow falls over your table. “Here,” a voice says, soft but clear. It is him. The new boy. The one you had bumped into earlier in the hallway. He offers you a slightly damp towel, still smelling faintly of detergent. “It’s better to blot it now before it sets,” he says, calm, like this is no big deal. “Acrylic paint can be stubborn, but it’ll come off.” For a second, you just stare at him. Processing. He… is talking to you? “Th-thank you,” you stammer, accepting the towel. Hana and Aoi exchange a look. The kind of look that could write entire novels. The boy simply smiles—a small, easy smile—and returns to his seat like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You blot furiously at your apron, cheeks flushed. Unbeknownst to you, a few rows back, Nishimura Riki’s gaze flicks up from his sketch. His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes linger on the new boy for a moment longer than necessary. Side-eye. Subtle. Sharp. By some miracle, the paint mostly comes off. But your nerves are frayed. Luckily, the next period is a free class—a rare gem in your tight schedule. “Library?” Aoi suggests, tucking her books into her bag. “Romance novels await,” Hana says, already marching towards the door. You follow, grateful for the change of scenery. The library is your safe haven. Quiet, filled with stories where other people’s problems take center stage. Much better than dealing with your own. The girls navigate the aisles like seasoned hunters. Hana gravitates towards the more scandalous titles, plucking up a thick paperback with a grin. “Listen to this,” she whispers, waving the book like a weapon. “‘His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered forbidden promises.’ I’m sold.” You snort. “You’re incorrigible.” “Admit it, you love it.”

“I plead the fifth.” Aoi, meanwhile, is in her own little world. She sits cross-legged on the library floor, notebook open, doodling absentmindedly. But you notice the details—the small hearts, the messy sketches of a familiar boy with tousled hair and an ever-present grin. Hayato. Riki’s best friend. “Aoi,” you say slowly, crouching beside her. “Are you… writing poetry?” Aoi’s face turns a shade of pink that could rival your art class paint. “Observational notes,” she says primly. “For creative purposes.” “Creative purposes, my ass,” Hana cackles, flopping down beside you. “You’re full-on fangirling.” Aoi doesn’t deny it. You smile, warmth bubbling despite your disastrous morning. Your friends are ridiculous. But they are your ridiculous. You spend the next hour lost in the shelves. You pick up a few well-worn romance novels, comfort reads for a rainy day. Hana collects an impressive stack of books that could probably get you all detention if your teachers knew the content. Aoi adds a slim volume of poetry to her collection, though her sketches of Hayato have multiplied. Outside, the school’s basketball court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking and the thump of a ball hitting the ground. Riki is there, as always, leading his team with the quiet authority that makes people listen. His movements are sharp, controlled, the perfect blend of precision and effortlessness. Hayato, of course, is being loud and showy, making half-court shots and hamming it up for the crowd. And today, the new boy has joined them. “Trial run for the team,” someone mutters. Riki isn’t impressed. As the unofficial strategist and “brains” of the team, Riki rarely approves new members without observing them for weeks. He is meticulous. Selective. But the team’s actual captain, Kenta, is more laid-back. “Let him try, Riki. Never hurts to have fresh blood.” Riki says nothing. He simply watches. The new boy is good. Not spectacular, but solid. His passes are clean, his footwork decent. Most importantly, he doesn’t try to show off. Just plays. Riki gives a slight nod. Approval, subtle but present. Back in the library, Aoi is giggling over a particularly good sketch of Hayato mid-dunk. You shake your head, flipping through a novel where the heroine has just been trapped in an elevator with her secret crush. Hana leans over your shoulder, reading aloud with scandalized delight. “She gasped as his fingers brushed hers—this is peak smut disguised as literature.” “You’re the one who found it,” you shoot back, laughing. “Guilty. But let’s be honest, you live for this.” You don’t argue. You like love stories. Even if your own life is a far cry from fictional meet-cutes and slow-burn romances. Aoi’s sudden sigh draws your attention. “I just think,” she begins, twirling her pen, “that liking someone shouldn’t be so complicated. You like them, you tell them. Easy.” You raise an eyebrow. “Says the girl doodling hearts in secret.” “Hypocrisy builds character,” Hana deadpans. You burst into quiet laughter, the kind that makes your chest ache in the best way. For a while, everything is simple. Books, friends, harmless gossip. The outside world can wait. -

But outside, things are shifting. Riki, sweat-damp and sharp-eyed, pauses for water. As he rests, his gaze drifts toward the school building. Specifically, the library windows. He can’t see clearly from this distance. But he knows. You are there. The girl who can’t walk ten steps without tripping. Who wears Hello Kitty aprons to art class. Who has a laugh that carries further than you think. The new boy has noticed you too.

Riki doesn’t know why that bothers him. Not really. It’s not like you talk. You aren’t even friends. But still. He wipes his face with a towel, shoving the thought aside as the whistle blows. Focus.

- 

The end of the school day feels like peeling off a heavy jacket after hours in the sun. Freedom tastes sweet, even if it’s tangled with exhaustion. You wave goodbye to Hana and Aoi as they turn toward the station. They have plans—something about a stationery shop sale and “life-changing gel pens.” You, however, are loyal to the bus stand and the comfort of collapsing into your room with no detours. “Text me when you reach!” Aoi calls. “Don’t die!” Hana adds, dramatically clasping her hands as if sending you off to war. With a grin and a lazy salute, you jog off towards your stop. And that’s when you see them. Riki, you expect. He always takes this bus. But sitting next to him, in his usual hurricane of chaotic energy, is Hayato. Hayato? Here? On this bus? Which means… “Oh no,” you mutter under your breath, fingers already twitching for your phone. If Hayato is here, it probably means a sleepover at Riki’s. The Nishimura siblings seem to host him often. But Aoi isn’t with you right now. And this—this is critical intel.

Girl Code 101: Always keep the squad updated on crush movements. You slide into your seat, three rows behind them, and open your group chat.

[Group Chat: The Disaster Trio] You: ⚠️ URGENT. CODE RED. Riki + Hayato on my bus rn. Hana: EXCUSE ME. DETAILS. NOW. Why is Hayato there? Are they going on a secret boy adventure? Sleepover? Basketball strategy meeting? Or is it something scandalous?? 👀 Aoi: No… Why didn’t I go with you today… 😭 You’re telling me I missed a Hayato sighting??? My life is a joke. You: Relax. He’s just sitting there. Earphones in. Looks like he’s listening to music. Riki is… Sleeping. Hana: Sleeping?? With his guard down??? That’s illegal. Take a picture for science. Aoi: STOP Don’t encourage her!!! But also… she might think Riki sleeping probably looks cute. You: It’s not cute. It’s just… Fine, maybe a little cute. BUT NO, EWW. He’s literally slumped against the window, hair messy, mouth slightly open. Looks peaceful. BUT NOT IN A CUTE WAY. OKAY. Hana: You’re losing this battle, babe. Acceptance is the first step. Aoi: Meanwhile, Hayato…? Is he talking? Laughing? Existing? You: Existing. Vibes immaculate. He’s bobbing his head to the music. Looks content. I’m living a live drama here.

You peek over your phone, stealing a glance at the two boys. Hayato sits like he belongs in every school anime—lively, casual, easygoing. Tapping his fingers against his knee, probably to the beat of whatever upbeat song he’s listening to. Riki, in contrast, looks… soft. Not the cold, mysterious aura he usually carries at school. Just a teenage boy who’s had a long day and needs a nap. His cheek pressed against the window, brow relaxed, lashes too long for his own good. Stop noticing these things, you scold yourself, turning your attention back to your phone.

You: Ok but plot twist I think Hayato saw me when I got on But he didn’t say anything. Just kept vibing. Hana: Maybe he’s giving you space Or maybe he’s plotting Or maybe he’s just normal and we’re the ones making it weird. Aoi: …I need to emotionally prepare for tomorrow. What if I see him? What if he talks to me? What if I combust on the spot? You: I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Anyway, bus is nearing my stop. Will update.

As the bus slows, Hayato reaches over and gently taps Riki’s arm. “Oi. Wake up, man. We’re here.” Riki groans, shifting reluctantly, his hand scrubbing over his face in slow motion as he blinks awake. You feel like you are intruding on a rare documentary of a nocturnal creature being disturbed. You quickly look away as they stand up, slinging their bags over their shoulders. When they pass by your seat, Hayato catches your eye. “Hey,” he greets, casually friendly, giving you a small nod and a polite smile. You blink. “Uh, hi.” Simple. Normal. Why are you holding your breath? Riki, on the other hand, says nothing. Just glances in your direction—briefly, unreadable—and keeps walking. As soon as they step off the bus, your fingers are flying again.

You: Hayato greeted me. Casual. Friendly. Riki said NOTHING. Classic. I’m going home to process. Hana: Hayato SPOKE to you? You’re basically part of the basketball team now. Congratulations. Aoi: I’m crying. But happy for you. But also crying.

The moment your shoes hit the floor of your home, you drop your bag, kick off your shoes, and call Aoi. “Emergency debrief,” you announce as soon as the line connects. Aoi’s voice is a mix of excitement and despair. “Tell me everything. Word for word. How did he say hi? What was his tone? His expression? Was it casual-casual or casual-but-interested?” You laugh, flopping onto your bed. “It was literally just ‘hey.’ Polite. Neutral. Probably because we made eye contact and it would’ve been weird not to.” “That still counts. That’s growth. Interaction is interaction,” Aoi insists. “You need to be there next time,” you say. “You’re the one who likes him.” “I was a fool to miss today. Next time, I’m gluing myself to you.” Hana joins the call, voice loud and as chaotic as ever. “Ladies, focus. The real story here is Riki falling asleep on a public bus. That’s character development.” “He looked… softer,” you admit reluctantly. “But like, in a normal way. Not a ‘swoon’ way. I think.” “Denial’s a river, babe,” Hana sings. You groan, pressing a pillow over your face. “Why is my life like this?” “Because it would be boring otherwise,” Hana shoots back. You spend the next half hour dissecting every tiny detail. From the way Hayato taps his fingers to Riki’s post-nap hair. It is stupid. It is fun. It is girl things. -

The group chat is buzzing. After school, you have barely thrown yourself onto your bed before your phone explodes with notifications. [Group Chat: The Disaster Trio] Hana: I’m just saying, if Hayato was at Riki’s today, there’s a 60% chance they’re plotting something. Basketball takeover? Late-night ramen run? Double life as secret agents?

Aoi: I could’ve seen him… I missed my chance… 😭 Y/N, you were right there. You’re our eyes on the ground. We need field reports. You: You guys are acting like I’m on a secret mission. I just took the bus. They were existing. That’s it. Hana: You underestimate how desperate we are for crumbs, Y/N. Especially Aoi. She’s probably framing the “hey” he gave you. Aoi: …It’s a core memory now. But really, next time, pictures. I need to build my shrine properly. You groan, flopping back onto your pillow. Your friends are menaces. You adore them. Your phone pings again. But this time, it isn’t the group chat. It’s Konon.

[Konon Nishimura] Konon: Hey Y/N!! I’m free right now. Want to squeeze in a math tutoring session? Might as well, right? My next few days are packed. You: Today? Now? Konon: Yup. It’ll be chill. Just you, me, and the cursed math gods. 😇 You: ...Sure. My grades need saving. See you soon.

You stare at your screen for a moment longer. It isn’t like this is unusual. You’ve gone to the Nishimura house plenty of times. Konon is your go-to math savior. But today… feels different. Because today, Riki and Hayato are home. You can already feel the impending awkwardness brewing in your bones. “Get a grip, L/N,” you mutter, sitting up and grabbing your tote bag. You stuff your math textbooks, notes, pencils, and—just in case—a snack for emotional support. Standing by your front door, you take a deep breath, roll your shoulders, and march toward the Nishimura residence. Every step sounds louder in your ears.

The Nishimura home is warm and familiar. The faint smell of simmering miso soup drifts through the air as you ring the bell. The door swings open, and Sola, Riki’s younger sister, beams at you. “Y/N-nee! You’re here!” “Hey, Sola,” you greet, trying to smile through your nerves. Behind Sola, Konon appears, waving you inside. “Come on in! We’ve got a lot to cover.” And then, Mrs. Nishimura herself appears, apron-clad and smiling gently. “Welcome, Y/N. It’s been a while. You’re just in time. We’re preparing snacks, so help yourself later.” You bow politely, thank her, and hurry upstairs to Konon’s room, where the familiarity of a tutoring session feels like a safety net. Once safely inside, you do what any self-respecting teenage girl would do—you open the group chat.

[Group Chat: The Disaster Trio] You: SOS I’m at the Nishimura’s. Tutoring session with Konon. But guess who are ALSO here? Yes. Riki. Hayato. Under this same roof. This is not a drill. Hana: OMFG This is prime fanfic setup, babe. We’re living through you. Aoi: Y/N. You know what must be done. Hayato pics. Even blurry. I’ll take anything. You: I’m not risking my life for your thirst shrine, Aoi. But will update if anything dramatic happens. Hana: Manifesting snacks. If Riki brings you snacks, I’m declaring it fate. You: Yeah, right.

You settle into the study session. Konon is as patient and composed as ever, walking you through equations that make your brain itch. But your concentration is as thin as rice paper. Every sound from outside the room—every footstep, every laugh—makes your shoulders tense. About halfway through an especially vicious problem, a knock echoes from the bedroom door. Your heart jumps. Konon calls out, “Come in.” The door opens, and there stand Riki and Hayato. Riki holds a tray. On it are two glasses of iced barley tea, a plate of neatly cut apple slices, and a small pack of lychee peelable gummies. You blink. “Mom sent these up,” Riki says simply, placing the tray on Konon’s desk. Hayato leans against the doorframe, giving a casual grin. “You’re in good hands. Konon’s basically a math wizard.” “Trying to be,” Konon laughs. You remain frozen. The apples are one thing. But the lychee gummies? That is… specific. Very specific. “Thanks,” you manage, voice squeaking at the end. Riki nods once, expression unreadable, and the boys leave. But not before you catch Hayato glancing your way with a little wave. The door closes. Konon picks up the gummies, tossing them toward you with a knowing smile. “Looks like someone remembered your favorite.” Your brain short-circuits. You fumble for your phone again.

[Group Chat: The Disaster Trio] You: GUYS. Abort mission. Riki just brought snacks. With apples and… lychee peelable gummies. HOW does he know I like those? I’m glitching. Hana: 😏😏😏 I TOLD YOU. Fate. Written in the stars.

Aoi: Forget fate. Did Hayato say anything? Smile? Breathe in your direction? You: He smiled. Said Konon’s a math wizard. No direct attacks on my soul like Riki’s gummy assault. Aoi: I expect at least ONE stealth photo of Hayato before you leave.

Hana: Bonus points if Riki’s in the background, side-eyeing.

You stuff your phone under your thigh, face burning. Konon, oblivious to the chaos, pops a grape into her mouth and continues explaining quadratic equations. “Focus, Y/N. This one’s tricky.” “Yes, ma’am,” you croak, returning to your notebook with the focus of a woman avoiding an existential crisis. The study session continues with typical struggles—fractions mocking you, equations twisting your brain. But with Konon’s help, the numbers start making a grudging kind of sense.

Amidst the problem sets, you also gossip in hushed tones. “Did you see Yui and Kenji today? Hand in hand,” Konon says with a smirk. “No way,” you whisper back. “I thought they were sworn enemies after that group project disaster.” “Enemies-to-lovers arc, probably.” You laugh, relaxing inch by inch. For a while, it’s easy to forget about the boys downstairs. About the tray of snacks. About your fluttering pulse.

When the session finally wraps up, you stretch, arms above your head. “You’re improving,” Konon praises. “Slowly. But surely.” “Thank you for your patience,” you grin.

“Anytime. You’re fun to teach. Plus, it’s good for Riki to see normal people here.” You blink. “Normal?” Konon shrugs, playful. “Let’s just say, you bring a different vibe. He notices.”

You choose not to unpack that statement. For the sake of your mental health. As you step out of the room, you can hear faint laughter from downstairs. Riki’s voice, low and quiet, countered by Hayato’s louder, more animated tone. You don’t linger. You slip on your shoes, bow your thanks to Mrs. Nishimura, and practically run home. As soon as your door clicks shut, your phone is out.

[Group Chat: The Disaster Trio] You: Survived. Barely. Math was hard. Life was harder. Gummies tasted sweet, betrayal tastes bitter. Hana: Betrayal? Please. That was a love confession in snack form. Aoi: Did you get my Hayato pic? Y/N. My wall depends on you. You: Sorry. I value my life. But I survived tutoring, so small win. Riki was… normal. Hayato was… polite. Konon was the MVP. Hana: We demand a full debrief tomorrow. In-person. With visual aids. Aoi: And snack bribes. For emotional support. You: Deal. But someone else is doing my math homework. -

That night, as you lay in bed, you stare at your ceiling. Today has been normal. But not really. It is the kind of day that doesn’t look important until much later. The kind of day that quietly lodges itself in your memory. A bus ride. A tutoring session. A tray of lychee gummies. Small things.

But maybe, just maybe, they are starting to add up, suspicious.

hope you all like it!!

[kickedin17]

Lyrics from the clancy tour setlist that are Scary now

I am clancy, prodigal son, done running [...] wanted dead or alive

Overtake your former self

I must've forgot, you can't trust me [...] before you know it I'm lost at sea

Tunnels cave, visions fade, swallowed by the vignette

There is no distraction to mask what is real

I found my way, right time, wrong place, as I pled my case

I don't know if this one is a surrender or a revel, I don't know if this one is about me or the devil

There's no chance I will shake this again

Do you think that now's the time you should let go? It's over my head

I used to be a champion of a world you can't see

Don't circle the track, just break the cycle in half

I tried to warn you just to stay away

Can't change what you've done

I'm testing the limits of what a mind can do

Did I disappoint you? Will they still let me over if I cross the line?

I'd rather you not be here for what could be my final form, stay your pretty eyes on course, keep the memories of who I was before

I thought I was fully prepared for the threshold in store [...] I guess I never really faced my fears before

End of my ways as a walking denial, my trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head-case

And I know that I can fight or I can let the lion win. I begin to assemble what weapons I can find, cause sometimes to stay alive, you've gotta kill your mind

And then when just enough light comes from just the right side and you find you're not who you're supposed to be? This is not what you're supposed to see, please, remember me? I am supposed to be king of a kingdom or swinging on a swing [...] this situation's becoming dire. My treehouse is on fire and for some reason I smell gas on my hands. This is not what I had planned, this is not what I had planned

I don't want your way, I want mine, I'm dying and I'm trying but believe me I'm fine, but I'm lying, I'm so very far from fine

And I can feel the pull begin, feel my conscience wearing thin

Cause I will save face for name's sake, abuse grace, take aim to obtain a new name in a newer place [...] I ain't the same, and my name became a new destiny to the grave

Keep your bliss, there's nothing wrong with this

This haze around my face makes me feel all alone

I find my self-esteem then turn so cold

We'll find a way to pay for it [...] and you can be quite certain, we'll win but not everyone will get out

This doesn't mean I lost my dream, it's just right now I got a really crazy mind to clean

You don't need to run

We're going too fast, fast, save us

I'll never be what you see inside, you say I'm not alone, but I am petrified

I have committed dirty, dirty crimes that are perfectly form-fitted to what I've done and what I'm doing, I'm brewing and losing and spewing infusing

I'm not sure if I can see this ever stopping, shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts, no, you were all that I've got, no

Gnawing on the bishops, claw our way up their system

I've been thinking too much, help me

I'm all in, I'm surrounded, put my money where my mouth is, even though I'm past the point of no return

I crumble underneath the weight

I'll stop my plans, but you'll have to tie me down and then break both my hands

It's a different blue, it's deeper than it's been

My name's blurryface and I care what you think (what's my name, what's my name)

[krtri]

redrew and reuploaded my first ever post on this blog please do not be alarmed

[talaok]

Be the one to do it

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary:  You've always had a crush on your neighbor Joel, and once your friend Jordan suggests you ask him to help with a little "problem" of yours, it turns out he had never been such an unattainable dream.

Warnings: basically pwp. smut| big ass unspecified age gap, virginity loss, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, kinda breeding kink and size kink, dirty talk, he talks you through it, Joel calls reader with a bunch of pet names and probably more stuff but i need to go to sleep.

a/n: this is the farthest it can get from original. you've probably read 10 other fics with the same premise but i just wanted to write some sweet and filthy virginity loss sue me

"I can barely get a sentence out around him and you think I'm gonna ask him to have sex!?"

"well yeah" Jordan laughed "It makes sense"

Your friend was looking at you like she'd just suggested getting ice cream, while what had really just come out of her mouth was really, exponentially different.

"you're out of your mind if you think-"

"just shut up" she interrupted, rolling her eyes "It would be a fucking walk in the park"

Your eyes widened exaggeratedly at that.

Did she have any idea about what she was suggesting?

The last time you'd interacted with Joel Miller all he had to do was ask how summer break was going for your face to get as hot as the sun and for you to end up muttering some nonsense and running away.

"He'd never say yes"

Again, Jordan's eyes rolled back.

"Y/n listen I love you but sometimes you can be real fucking dumb," she said, fighting a smile "The guy probably hasn't gotten laid in years!" she huffed a laugh "And with you? With a hot young piece of ass like you!? No guy on the planet would say no"

"You-you're just saying that... and you don't know him"

"I know men"

__ __ __

You didn't even remember how you'd gotten there, all you knew was that Joel Miller was right in front of you, opening the door to his fucking house.

"Hi"

Your face was already getting warm and your voice was just an inch above unhearable.

"Hi darlin'" he greeted you, smiling with that slow, easy smile that made you want to cry every single time.

How could a human being be so hot?

"Come on in" he nodded behind him "What's goin' on?"

Now here was the problem. You had no plan whatsoever, and this was setting itself up to be a complete shitshow.

"I..."

You weren't even meeting his eyes, you could see him trying to catch a glimpse of your gaze but you couldn't do it- to be quite frank you were already starting to panic... and to regret your decision.

"you want something to drink?"

You looked up at him, your mouth slightly open as your words died on your tongue.

Jesus, he was handsome.

You hadn't gotten the chance to really look at him before, but now there he was in all his glory… huge strong muscles fighting against his shirt and all.

"c'mon, I'll get ya some water"

You didn't miss the smirk on his lips as he caught you ogling his arms.

Definitely not off to a good start.

He handed you a glass of water, and you took it, willing your hands not to shake.

The golden light of the afternoon sun seeped through the curtains of his kitchen windows, illuminating the space with a calmness that completely contrasted with your state.

"boy problems?"

You almost flinched at the sound of his voice.

"gotta beat somebody up?"

He must have thought you were dumb with the way you were staring at him all wide-eyed, not daring to speak a word.

You needed to think of something, preferably right now.

"n-no, nothing like that” you shook your head, forcing a smile.

A beat of silence passed before you decided to take back already what you’d said.

“well actually sorta"

He frowned, shifting his stance from one foot to the other.

He was waiting for you to expand on your words, but the birds chirping on the nearby trees were the only sound in the room.

"you can talk to me doll, I ain't gonna bite"

You could feel your cheeks get hot.

Jesus it's like everything he did was scandalously sexy- every time he spoke with that sweet drawl of his, every pet name he used for you... he could have peeled his clothes off slowly as he gave you a lap dance and the effect on you would be the exact same.

"Well I just..." you started "I've got a... problem"

He looked even more confused.

Were you about to tell him you're pregnant? No that would be impossible, he'd never seen you with any guy around here... but maybe at college.

For some reason, the thought of you with another guy... with a boy... didn't sit right with him.

Actually, he knew the reason, throughout the summer he'd caught himself staring a little too long at you more times than he'd like to admit- it was like all of a sudden you had grown, and the sweet little kid living next to him was now suddenly a gorgeous woman. He didn't really know what to do with that information, with the inappropriate feelings and urgings weighing in his gut every time his gaze fell upon you and you squirmed embarrassed like a shy little thing.

"alright..." he urged you to go on.

"Sarah's not home right?"

His brows drew closer together as he frowned.

Why would you ask that?

"She's at a friend's"

You nodded, suddenly looking more resolute, even if the way your teeth tortured your poor bottom lip was enough of a tell of how nervous you were.

You had decided. Jordan was right. There was no harm in trying, and if it didn't go right you'd just avoid him for the rest of your life.

"I'm a virgin Joel"

You saw his eyes widen before your own words had even registered.

"O-oh"

That's all he could stutter. I mean what was he supposed to say? That seconds before he thought you were about to tell him you were pregnant? That he could not understand how someone as beautiful as you, with the billion contenders he was sure you had, still had not found a single one to have sex with?

"And I... well the thing is that I don't want to be anymore"

He tried to get back to how cool and collected he was before- you were here to talk to him after all, the least he could do was be as helpful as possible.

"right" he cleared his throat "you want some advice on how to navigate this thing?"

The silence and the look on your face told him quite the opposite.

What were you here for then?

"No- I- the thing is that... I was wondering if maybe you'd agree to-" you bit your cheek as you finally spat it out "to be the one to do it"

Joel was sure his heart had stopped.

"babygirl-" The words had barely left your mouth and he was already stopping you.

You felt tears prick your eyes... you knew that tone.

"I'm sorry it was a stupid-"

Goddamn you Jordan.

You were already planning to run out the door when he spoke.

"darlin' I'm pushing forty here"

That's not what you expected him to say. He wasn't disgusted, or amused, or angry...

"yes but-" You tried to speak but he was talking over you again.

"you're twenty... you ain't even old enough to buy a six-pack, I-I- that ain't something you're supposed to do with me"

Joel would have never admitted it, but he was saying those things mostly to himself- to desperately fight the instinct that took over him the moment you explained the reason you were at his house... the instinct to take you up the stairs and fuck you so good no one else would ever compare.

"b-but it's what I want"

You weren't giving up. You didn't know what, but there was something about the way he was going about it that told you there was still a sliver of a chance.

Only there was a lot more than a sliver... and the way you were looking up at him with those desperate doe eyes was upping your chance as you spoke.

"I trust you, Joel," you said "You're the only man that I know that I would trust with this"

He sighed, shaking his head "If your dad found out- Jesus I wouldn't live to see another day darlin'"

Your hand found his chest, strong and solid as rock beneath your palm.

"I won't tell" you murmured, your words verging on pleas "I-I won't tell anyone Joel I promise" you swore, looking up at him as his own eyes bore into yours.

"You're the only one I want to do this with... the only one I trust"

You could see the resolution, the fight, leave his face.

How the hell was he supposed to say no?

Christ, not even a priest would have that amount of self-control.

"fuck sweetheart" he shook his head before looking up, a long breath leaving his throat "You're gonna get me killed"

You didn't even try to hide your excitement.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you asked "Is- is that a yes?"

His eyes- his beautiful, big, hazel eyes were back on you.

"'f course it is"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt.

It was really happening.

You were gonna lose your virginity to Joel fucking Miller.

"A-are we gonna do it now?" you asked, almost breathless with joy "I-I mean only if you feel like it of course"

"If I feel like it..." Joel couldn't help but laugh "You really have no idea do ya?"

Your mouth parted in confusion.

Did you say something wrong already?

"About what?"

A beat passed as he stared down at you, almost amused.

"About whatcha do to me, sugar"

__ __ __

The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and all of a sudden, you were the only two people on earth.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second, and although you felt very much on the spot, you liked his gaze on you.

"If you change your mind at any point darlin'," he said, walking closer to you until his right hand could gently move some hair out of your face "You tell me, and I'll stop, ok?"

"mh-mh" you nodded, although you were more than sure no changing of mind would happen... God, you didn't even know how long you'd dreamed of this.

"Don't gimme that doll, use your words" he corrected you, his thumb drawing circles on your cheek "Later too"

"O-ok, yes, I-I understand"

He smiled, amused.

"there's no need to be nervous sugar, we'll go real slow ok?"

"y-yes"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"what can I do to make it better?"

You had an immediate answer in mind. The only thing you had been able to think about since he got this close.

"Can... could you kiss me?"

Jesus H. Christ.

Joel had to fight the urge to laugh. He'd drop to his knees and lick every inch of you if you asked, and you were wondering if he could kiss you...

"I can do whatever you want, babydoll" he murmured, as he slowly leaned closer.

You placed your hands on his big strong chest as you raised yourself on your tiptoes, and before you knew it... his lips were on yours.

You were holding your breath as the sound of your beating heart pounded in your ears.

This was really happening- this was real-

But before you had time to take it all in, the sweet feeling of Joel's lips on yours, of his beard, his nose, his hands, it was like something switched, a knob turned in his brain, and Joel wasn't kissing you anymore- no, he was devouring you.

He'd tried to go as soft and slow as he could but the moment you let out a little whimper... it was like he got possessed.

The hand on the back of your neck forced you impossibly closer as the one on your waist tightened enough to bruise, and he was... his tongue was desperately savoring every inch of your perfect mouth, swallowing all your pretty sounds.

His lungs screamed for relief but breathing was the last thing on his mind.

He'd never kissed like this.

Your panties were soaked once he finally pulled away.

He was about to apologize for losing control, but by the way you were looking at him, there was nothing to be sorry about.

"I'm gonna take off your clothes now doll, ok?"

You nodded, your breathing ragged, your cheeks on fire.

With just one kiss, he'd rendered your mind an empty mess. You doubted you could remember your address at the moment.

"What did I say 'bout usin' your words?" He murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of your swollen mouth.

"Sorry," you whimpered weakly.

He wouldn't have heard you if he had been but an inch away.

"Y-yes, you can take my clothes off"

He smiled at that, leaving another soft kiss on your lips before both his hands reached underneath your shirt.

His big, warm hands detoured to caress your sides, leaving shivers in their wake, before he brought your top up until he slid it off.

His eyes fell on your tits, still covered by your bra, and he looked up at you to check if you were alright before oh so slowly undoing the clasp and letting the garment fall to the floor.

He had to stifle the groan climbing up his throat because Jesus, he wanted nothing more than to take each of your perfect fucking nipples in his mouth and suck until begged him for more...

but he didn't, he let his self-control win this time as he reached for the waistband of your shorts.

He watched like a hawk every inch of skin that he uncovered until the shorts pulled at your feet and you stepped out of them together with your sandals.

Your breathing still hadn't gotten back to normal, and every fucking inch of your skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of his gaze.

He didn't say anything as his fingers slid past the waistband of your panties and with a quick movement pulled them down, leaving you completely bare.

Not able to stop himself, he groaned this time, his hands taking a tour of your body from your collarbones, to the valley between your breasts, to your belly, until his thumbs were but an inch from where you were burning with desire for him. But he didn't touch you there, no, his hands reached your waist as he stared at you 'cause god bless his heart, but he couldn't stop looking.

He liked his lips, as if he was hungry- starving- and you let out a small whimper, realizing you had held your breath all this time.

"You're... perfect babygirl"

You prayed he wouldn't judge you when he saw the mess that had become of between your thighs.

He can't say stuff like that and expect me not to melt.

His eyes were finally back on you, and the pure lust in them almost made you gasp.

He looked like a completely different man.

"Sit on the bed"

Your brain took a second too long to register his words.

I mean it's not every day you're naked in front of Joel Miller.

Joel's old mattress creaked as you sat on it, and you stayed there, diligently frozen in your spot as he took his sweet time to come closer.

He wanted to preserve the image of you sitting on his bed, naked, waiting, looking like a damn dream, in his brain for all the lonely nights of the rest of his life.

He stood there, towering over you, looking down at you as you looked up at him, and you felt even smaller.

You were about to speak, to beg him to please do anything, touch you in any way, put you out of your misery, when he crouched down, his eyes now level with yours.

His hands found your thighs and another whimper escaped your chest.

"Spread your legs f'me, doll"

And so you did, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Good girl"

This time, it wasn't a whimper that fled your mouth, but a small little moan.

Fuck

Heat rose to your face again and you looked away, embarrassed.

Of course, you liked to be told you're a good girl.

"None of that" Joel tsked, his right pointer forcing you to look back at him "Eyes on me"

You were so turned on you wanted to cry. But you didn't, you nodded, and just like that... Joel was leaning closer and his mouth... oh god his mouth had found your neck.

You gripped the sheets as your whole body started going on fire- as his mouth left hungry wet kisses under your ear, on your pulse, on your collarbones, on your tits, and when his lips wrapped around your right nipple... when his tongue toyed with your hard bud you swore you saw heaven.

Soft little moans started spilling from your mouth as he sucked and sucked and sucked, his hands going to support your boobs, pushing them together as his mouth went from one to the other again and again until you didn't even remember what it meant to breathe like a normal person.

It felt so good.

Who knew it would feel so fucking good?

Joel only stopped when your nipples were swollen and utterly drenched with his saliva, and you were about to protest when you felt his mouth traveling south...

"Joel" you whispered.

He looked up at you with that sexy fucking smirk on his face, not stopping the trail of kisses down your belly.

"Yes, doll?"

"What are you-" your sentence was interrupted by a gasp when his lips found your mound "W-what are you doing?"

His smirk only widened as his mouth dived lower.

"I'm gonna lick your pussy now darlin'" his low and lustful voice was enough to make you orgasm alone.

You could only blink, and then swallow, and then open your mouth... just for no words to come out.

Joel chuckled before kissing your inner thigh, sending a shock of pleasure to your core.

"'s that ok with ya?"

"Yes," you heard yourself blurt out before you even knew it, which made him laugh, a soft, vibrating laugh that fanned your core and rendered you all the more desperate.

"That's good to hear" he grinned, his mouth lowering until he was kissing your lips... your other lips.

Oh Jesus Christ

You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he hummed in approval, taking them in his hands and forcing them on his shoulders.

Oh sweet Mother of Christ

He granted himself one look at your perfect, beautiful fucking pussy, before his eyes were back on you, and his tongue darted out without warning and licked your whole core like an ice cream cone.

"Oh"

Your hips spasmed for a second but before you had time to feel embarrassed, his tongue was back in action, only this time he was eating you as if he were starving.

He groaned in pleasure at your taste as his tongue explored every inch of you he could physically reach. His nose was rubbing against your clit and his beard felt so nice against your skin and oh god if you thought you'd seen heaven before you were wrong because the moment his lips wrapped against your bud angels opened up the pearly gates for you.

"Oh my god" you cried, your left hand getting a mind of its own and grabbing Joel's soft hair "Oh my fucking- Oh wow"

This was nothing like what you'd experienced before- nothing your own fingers had ever produced, this was... so so good.

"You taste so fucking sweet sugar" he groaned into you, sending another wave of pleasure through you "y've got such a perfect lil pussy babygirl" he continued in between lapping at your core "wish I could have it for breakfast every day"

You could only moan in response, and you could feel his smile on your skin as he watched the effect he was having on you.

Goddamn, you looked like an angel biting your lip as you moaned for him, your face flushed, your hand in his hair... this was the best decision he ever made- who gave a fuck if your dad put him in the ground, at least he got to see this.

"Gonna come for me doll?" he teased once he heard your cries get louder and your grip on his hair tighten "Gonna let me taste all your sweet juices like a good girl?"

Those words, once again, had their effect because in no time your hips were grinding onto him and breathless gasps were forcing their way out your throat as the best orgasm of your life shuttered through you,

"Just like that" he praised you as you rode the high "thatta girl- give it to me baby"

You were only partially aware of where you found yourself as you came down from the orgasm.

you were breathing heavily, your eyes closed as Joel made his way up your body, his lips pecking every inch of it until he finally kissed your mouth.

"You ok darlin'?"

Your eyes opened at once, the dreamiest look in them,

"I'm great" you grinned, making him smile before he kissed you again, slowly this time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He only pulled away when you whined, your hands gripping his arms desperately as your body begged for more.

He sat up on the bed against the headboard, and it was then you finally realized he was still fully clothed...

You were naked from head to toe and he was still dressed... you had no idea why but that made you even hornier, which is why you hastily sat up.

"A- are we gonna do it now?"

He huffed out a laugh as his hand invited you closer.

"not quite yet sugar," he cooed as he guided you to sit on his lap, your back against his chest and your ass against... oh wow.

You could very much feel through his jeans the print of what felt like his huge cock right against your backside.

You couldn't help it, you shifted your butt, not so subtly grinding against him, and when his only response was to grab your waist, you couldn't help but do it again... and again, until you not only heard, but felt a groan rise up his chest.

"babygirl..." he murmured against your ear, making you shiver "You might wanna stop that"

You bit your lip, doing it again "Why?"

He inhaled sharply, his grip tightening "'cause baby, if you keep on goin' I'm gonna come, and you ain't gonna get what you came all this way for"

That made you want to stop and keep going at the same time.

The thought of Joel Miller coming because of you doing what you were doing...

"Don't ya even think about it sugar" He anticipated your actions as if he'd read your mind. You felt him smirk as he kissed you right under your ear.

To that you surrendered, stopping your movements at once.

He hummed, satisfied, inhaling your scent as his right hand slowly moved down your belly.

You held your breath as his fingers found your clit and his mouth your neck.

You couldn't see Joel from this position, but you didn't need to, you could feel him.

His ring and middle finger started circling your clit in a slow and precise motion and moans were already spilling from your lips.

"Joel" you breathed.

"'m right here" he promised, his voice husky, clouded by his lust.

His fingers continued their torturous path until he found your hole.

You could only gasp as his fingers dived inside of you.

Oh god.

"You ever done this to yourself doll?" he asked, his fingers thrusting in and out of you lazily.

You could both hear how unbelievably drenched you were, but that was the very last thing on your mind... what seized your attention at the moment were the sparks of pleasure Joel was igniting in your core.

"mh?" he hummed once you didn't answer, still kissing your neck.

"I-I did" you swallowed, your words interrupted by yet another cry when his fingers curled, sending much more than a spark of pleasure to your brain "Like... like twice"

"just twice?" Joel asked

"It just... it doesn't feel good"

His movements continued, making your breathing get more and more uneven.

"How does it feel now?" he accentuated his words by making whatever gesture he made that had your walls tightening around his fingers.

"G-good"

"Now that ain't gonna do" he cooed, his fingers all of a sudden leaving your core.

"B-but-" you were about to protest turning his way, but his voice took over.

"'s alright darlin', gimme your hand"

You looked down to see his hand waiting for yours, and without even thinking you did as he asked.

He placed his palm big palm on top of your hand, engulfing it, and he guided it down your body, past your belly button, until you were right where he was seconds ago.

"use these two fingers" he instructed, showing you the ones he was talking about.

"good, now get 'em all nice and wet" he murmured, guiding them through your slick folds to do just what he'd said.

You were back at your hole and your mind had stopped working.

You were just a doll, following his every instruction, watching closely his hand move yours as your core ached with desire.

"Now slide 'em in" he whispered, his honeyed voice hypnotizing.

And so you did, you pushed your ring and middle finger inside of yourself.

Why was this so fucking hot?

"Now go in and out" his words were your command, literally.

Again, the sound of your slick pussy spread through the room as you did as he asked.

"how's that feel?"

You weren't gonna lie, not to Joel.

"It's... it's ok" you breathed "Not as good as before"

He smirked, his tongue darting out to lick your pulse as his free hand traveled higher, finding your boobs.

Well of course it felt better before his fingers were two times yours.

"curl your fingers" he ordered, his palm caressing your tits "Like this," he said, showing you exactly what he meant.

He did almost like a "come here" motion, and although skeptically, you replicated it, and well... Joel Miller knew what the fuck he was talking about cause goddamn...

You cried out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

"Again"

And so you did it again, only this time, Joel's fingers had found your left nipple, and the way they toyed with it just as you fingered yourself made the feeling triplicate.

"Keep doin' that babydoll" Joel breathed, his mouth leaving hot, wet kisses on your neck and shoulders as his fingers tweaked your pretty nipples.

"just like that" he hummed as you cried out louder and louder, as you squirmed above him, your free hand gripping his thigh to have something to hold on to.

"that's it... look so pretty like this sugar" he continued "making yourself come like a good girl..."

Jesus his cock was begging for attention... this was the hottest fucking shit he'd ever seen.

Your legs were starting to close as your orgasm approached, and your voice, calling out Joel's name, was getting more and more desperate.

"so good" he groaned, his fingers pinching your nipple without warning "Y'look so perfect when you come babygirl".

That's the last thing you heard as a tsunami of pleasure overtook your whole body.

You were pretty sure you were shaking and wailing like a madwoman, but all you could really be sure of was what happened once you finally reopened your eyes.

You felt so very spent and you hadn't even done what you came here for yet.

Joel's eyes were boring into yours, his hands caressing your sides.

"Still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah," you smiled wide once again.

You felt like you were lying on a cloud, no thoughts or worries going through your head... just pure bliss.

"You still sure about this sugar?"

You had no hesitation.

"Yeah"

He smiled, kissing your lips for a brief second before leaning away.

The moment you realized he was finally taking off his clothes you were wide awake.

You sat up just as he discarded his shirt to the floor.

Je-sus.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen Joel shirtless. It wasn't a coincidence you chose to sunbathe every time he was mowing the lawn...

Yet, the breath was still knocked out of you.

He was broad, like seriously so. He was big and although you couldn't say he had a six-pack it was plain obvious the man was strong.

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting even wetter.

You wanted nothing more than to let your palm caress his chest, the sparse hair on his pecs, the v lowering towards his pants...

Speaking of which, a gasp fled your throat the moment he took off his jeans, and by the time his boxers were off your mouth hung open in awe... and worry.

"you're..." you had to swallow to try and get some water to your dry mouth "Joel you're-- huge"

You weren't looking at him as he laughed, but at the big scary cock against his stomach bobbing with the movement.

"how would ya know, babygirl?"

You had to force yourself to look away from his manhood, and once you did, you found his gaze again.

"I... I've watched... stuff"

A side of his mouth twitched mischievously at the confession.

"Oh yeah?" he teased "My good little girl watches porn? 's that whatcha telling me?"

Why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

"N-No I just..." heat rushed to your face as you bit your lip "I-I mean-"

He laughed, cutting you off "'s ok sugar, I won't tell"

You could only offer him a little smile because to be honest, your focus was still on the reason you'd even broached the subject.

Your eyes were back on his dick, and while yes it was a worrying size, it also sparked curiosity and need deep inside of you. Which is why you moved closer to him, kneeling on the bed so that his cock was right before you.

And holy mother of God.

"Can I..."

You didn't even need to finish the sentence.

Jesus, if he were to be honest even just seeing you in this position was getting him close to coming.

"You can do whatever you want babydoll, I told ya"

You nodded, hesitantly leaning a little closer.

"I-I've never..."

"As long as my dick is in your mouth I'll be a happy man darlin'"

You gulped, biting your lip as you tried to understand where to even begin, and just then, a tiny bit of precum leaked from his manhood- so naturally, you acted on your first thought... and licked his head, tasting the tang of him.

You heard him inhale sharply as you continued licking, first just his head, then the sides, every ridge and vein... but it was only when you finally wrapped your lips around him that he lost it.

"Fuck"

He groaned like an animal and that only gave you all the more reasons to go further, forcing his dick into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

"Fucking- Jesus Christ"

You looked up at him now, your hands finding his legs as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking so very well every inch you could fit... which was barely half.

He'd gathered your hair to the back of your head, but he wasn't guiding your movements, it was all you.

"Babydoll" he rasped, "I think that's enough"

But you didn't wanna stop. This was so hot... feeling him in your mouth, hearing him moan for you...

"Baby" he grunted "I ain't gonna be able to fuck you if I come down your throat"

Those crude words brought you back to reality... and made you even hornier.

You pulled away from his dick, letting it slap back against Joel's stomach.

"Lay down f'me"

You did, without question.

He stifled a groan at the sight, at the fucking image displayed before him once you obeyed his command and spread your legs.

Fuck.

He looked at your eyes, watching for any sign of doubt, of a second thought... but he found none.

It was then he finally took his cock in his hand, giving it a much-needed pump and making you swallow drily.

He was silent as he guided his tip to your folds, making it slide between them and catching on your clit... but you weren't.

You were letting out all sorts of little cries and whimpers and moans as he toyed with you.

But you too, fell silent once you felt him stop at your entrance.

"Mh-" you were starting to hum, biting down your lip as he began pushing inside when he suddenly stopped.

"Fuck- forgot the condom"

You blinked, trying to make sense of what had happened as he reached into his night table.

"Joel" you called for him, making him turn around, condom in hand.

"'m sorry darlin', should've remembered sooner"

But that's not what you wanted to say.

"Joel can we..." you gulped "can we not-- use it?"

He frowned as his dick damn near exploded.

You wanted him to fuck you raw?

"Jesus sweetheart you tryna kill me today or somethin'?"

You smiled, your hands fidgeting.

"N-no I just... this is my first time... I- I wanted to feel it, y'know?" you murmured "A-and I'm clean and if you... if you use it with all the other women then you must be clean too, so..."

Joel had the urge to laugh.

"That ain't what 'm worried about, pretty doll"

It was one thing your dad finding out he'd fucked you... a different thing if he'd fucking got you pregnant.

Your mouth formed an o shape as you remembered.

"O-Oh no, I-I'm on the pill"

I shouldn't do this.

There's still a risk.

I'm old enough to be her father I shouldn't be doing this for countless different reasons.

I shouldn't.

I really fucking shouldn't.

And yet Joel had already gotten rid of the condom and had made his way on top of you.

You smiled before he kissed you, taking away all the oxygen from your lungs.

"I need you to relax now sugar" he murmured, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance once again.

"O-ok" you nodded, feeling the very tip of him push inside you.

"Just like that" he praised, kissing you again "Doing so well f'me"

It burned.

The stretch got more and more demanding as he tried to push himself deeper into you.

"Ah!" you gasped, your hands gripping his biceps as he kissed your neck.

"I know baby, I know"

"I-it's big" you cried, planting your feet on the mattress to try and ground you.

"You want me to stop?" he asked, looking you in the eyes, although yours were shut close.

"N-no" you shook your head "I just... " you hissed from the pain as he slid in an inch further.

"You can do it babygirl" he whispered, still planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

"B-but it's too big" you whimpered desperately as he still kept going. It felt interminable.

"Don't ya worry 'bout it honey" he said, moving some hair out of your face "I'm gonna make it fit"

That got him the first little moan of pleasure, which coincided with you letting him get an inch deeper.

"Yeah you like that?" he cooed "You like the idea of me filling you up with my cock to the very brim?"

You moaned again, louder.

"I know you do sugar." one of his hands had traveled between your bodies to find your clit, making you cry out even louder "Want nothing more than to be full of me, do ya?"

"'s ok sweetie, we're almost there" he promised, his breath sending shivers up your spine "You're taking me so well... letting me stretch this perfect little pussy for the very first time..."

It still burned, but the worst was done, and his words were making you forget half the pain.

"such a good girl" he cooed "There we go, like that, lemme in babygirl... fuck"

You'd done it.

"Oh my god" you gasped.

You felt utterly and completely full, like your body had been missing a part of it all this time.

"Joel" you cried, your grip on his arms tightening.

"You ok sugar?" he asked, although you could hear the restraint in his voice.

"Yes" you breathed opening your eyes to look at him "Yes please do- do something"

He smirked as he gave you a quick kiss.

"I'm gonna start moving now, ok?"

You nodded hastily "Y-yes- please".

And so what could he do, if not exactly what you'd asked?

He retracted his hips just to thrust in again, and... wow.

"O-Oh my god" you cried, as he did it again, finding a slow and oh so very deep pace.

He was rolling his hips, grinding against your pelvis every time he trusted in, making fireworks explode in your body.

"Fuck, doll" he groaned, his pace quickening "Y'feel so good... so tight for me"

You could only moan at his words, your legs wrapping around him.

"it's like you were made for my cock" he said, staring at you although your eyes were closed.

He didn't want to miss even a second of this.

"To let me fuck you like you need" he hissed, having to refrain himself from coming too soon.

That had been a danger since the very first inch of him had entered you.

You just felt so fucking good.

"You're such a good girl baby, y've got no idea" he groaned, kissing and licking your neck "Taking me so well"

"J-Joel!" you basically screamed once the fingers on your clit resumed their work.

"I know baby" he cooed, continuing to fuck you thoroughly "I know it's a lot, but you can take it"

The sound of your skin slapping with his bounced off the walls with each thrust together with the creaks of the mattress.

"I-I- Joel" you kept on crying, your breathing getting more and more ragged as your belly tightened expecting the approaching orgasm.

"what is it darlin'?" he purred, "need me to fuck you harder, softer?" he murmured "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to ya baby"

"M-more"

He could only smirk as he picked up his pace, now slamming into you harder, feeling your walls tighten with each thrust.

"Oh god- O-Oh shit--"

"C'mon doll," Joel groaned as your nails dug into his skin "Be a good girl and come for me- let me feel you come around my cock"

He didn't even need to ask.

"like that" he rasped as your eyes shut tight and you cried as loud as your vocal chord permitted "Just like that- good fucking girl"

Each molecule of your body rearranged itself as the orgasm overtook your body, mind, and soul.

You were sure you had ascended to another universe, the only thing that grounded you was Joel's words as he reached his own peak.

"Fuck doll, 'm gonna come" he grunted " 'm gonna fill you up babygirl- like that- take it sugar-- take it all"

It took a long while for you to gain back consciousness, and when you did, you found yourself lying under Joel's blanket, his hand gently drawing patterns on your arm as he... he was watching you.

"There she is"

You could only find it in yourself to smile as you leaned closer to him, leaving a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, Joel"

[tojjist]

NANAMI is 100% a spanker.

He loves your ass. He could just stare at you for hours on end, no matter what you’re wearing at the time. Be it a pencil skirt, yoga pants, sport shorts or a dress. He could just stand there and watch you move, glutes moving up and down, hips swaying. It makes him swoon.

And while he could stand and stare, he’d much rather feel it up against his palm. He’d slap your buttocks once he walks past you, soft and teasing. Depending on your response the situation elevates. 

More times than not you find yourself sprawled out on his lap, his hands colliding with the skin multiple times over until he can feel it get warmer. His ears are immune to your cries,gasping at the force that comes with the loud clapping. Sometimes he’d stop to tease your clit gently, fingertips rubbing the bundle of nerves to hear a soft moan from you or have you tighten your shaking thighs over his palm. But it’s not too long before his hand is swinging in the air and against your reddened ass.

At some other occasions, he finds himself subconsciously feeling your ass in the morning. His large hands explore the soft flesh, squishing it tightly in his palm and giving it light slaps every so often.

GOJO, on the other hand, is a hair puller.

Honestly, there is no specific reason that he likes to pull your hair so much. Mostly he just likes the feeling of your hair filling into his fist, no matter the length of it, locks running between his fingers. It's an oddly satisfying to him .

He’s very random with it, too. Satoru would approach you while doing the dishes, one second his arms are wrapped lovingly around your waist, and the next his hand fists as much as it can of your hair and tugs at it “A-a- ah- Satoru– let go, seriously,” You’d grumble, face scrunched at the suddenness of it. “Mm, Gotta ask nicely, baby,” his hand continues to grab your hair tightly. Judging by the amused smirk on his face, he’s just messing around. Must get a kick out of it.

It’s another reason he loves seeing you on your knees before him. Your mouth consumes so much of his length, hands pumping whatever your mouth couldn’t fit in. All Satoru has to do is sit back, feel good, and pull at your hair. It’s easy control. And Satoru loves this control, as if steering your head however he likes. Not that your skilled mouth needs direction. 

[starkastichotmess]

𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚃𝚈𝙿𝙴𝚂 𝚀𝚄𝙸𝚉.

43% CREATIVE.

The Creative appreciates all beautiful things, in art and daily life. The creative act is essential to who they are.

38% INTELLECTUAL.

The Intellectual is the ultimate dinner-party guest. Engaging questions and thoughtful debate are their trademarks.

19% VISIONARY.

Leave it to others to live by the status quo. The Visionary is interested in new ways of seeing, solutions not yet imagined, products not yet built.

Tagged by Stolen from: @spxnglr Tagging: wanna do the thing? do the thing!

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello beautiful ☺️ can I request a Joel miller x reader where like the reader is on her period and gets all snappy with Joel and he just kinda takes it and then she gets all emotional about it later after he gets home from work and is just a big mess but he only cares about her wellbeing?? 😭

Love u btw <3

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing joel miller x female reader summary when it comes to grace, Joel’s got a well that never runs dry [fluff, 1.8k] a/n love u too anon ♡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

A slender band of gold sunlight graces Joel’s cheek as he stands across the counter. Even more slivers paint the kitchen in similar sleepy streaks. It’s a beautiful day, all things considered. The morning is still young with the promise of what could lie ahead. Yet all you can focus on are the words that have disturbed this beautiful little bubble in time. 

Appointment, oil change, fluid check. 

“I’ve already handled everything on the back end,” he says as he sets his coffee mug down. “All you gotta do is drop the truck off, and you’re good to—”

“Okay,” you say with more force than intended.

Joel remains quiet, and you take it as permission to voice your frustration further, “We could’ve gotten it serviced this past weekend when both of us were free. That would've made more sense.” 

His shoulders square as you direct a piercing, matter-of-fact glance his way. “They were completely booked,” he explains. 

“Of course they were,” you say. “And now it’s my problem.” 

Joel’s gaze flicks into his coffee, black with a dash of creamer. Only a couple of sips left. You’d already finished yours. 

“Made the appointment ‘cause you said you didn’t have anything to do this morning, honey.” His dark eyes are sincere as they meet yours, but you don’t offer any softness in return. 

You mutter something under your breath about your schedule not being the problem. 

Even with all the time in the world, you wouldn’t opt to spend an hour sitting in a service shop—breathing stale air, sinking into peeling leather seats, watching a revolving door of strangers. Especially when staying tucked away at home was a more promising alternative for a day like this, when your body seems to be conspiring against you.

Your cycle had started on the least convenient morning and shortened everything from your fuse to your patience to your desire to interact with other people. 

You watch him finish the remainder of his coffee and lick his lips afterward. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

With a frustrated huff, you slip off the island barstool and walk his mug to the sink. It provides an excuse not to look at him, more than anything. A dull, crampy ache has settled low in your stomach, but you feel his watchful gaze tracking you even more than the pain. He watches you rinse the colorful ceramic and move to place it in the dishwasher, tapping his fingers as he pieces together a new line of action. 

“We can try to reschedule,” he offers. “I’ll take off early and handle it sometime before we leave on Friday.” 

Come the end of the week, you’ll be heading to Boulder, Colorado, to see the girls. So much has changed since Ellie and Sarah moved away for college, but visiting them made the family unit feel whole again. 

Neither of you expected to miss them as much as you did, never mind in all the small ways you did. Once upon a time, you affectionately joked that it’d be quieter and cheaper with them not around. But you missed their shoes at the door, hearing music flowing from their bedrooms, cackling and teaming up against Joel with them on game nights. You even missed the little disagreements fueled by the notion that they were growing up and you simply wanted the best for them. 

“Can’t make the drive ‘til everything’s in good shape,” he says. 

The reminder is more of an encouragement than something he’s trying to hang over your head. Unfortunately, it strikes just the right nerve and leaves you looking for a hole to prod. 

“Then why would we cancel today’s appointment if it’s already guaranteed?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. “No point in switching things around and making it worse.” 

Joel remains quiet as he gathers his words. “So you’ll—”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” you say as you sit back down. 

The need to take the truck in is no more his fault than an inevitable necessity, but a large part of your frustration feels good—justified. 

“You gonna let me finish any of my sentences?” He asks lightly, placing a hand on his hip. The fabric of his shirt stretches over his bicep. 

When you motion for him to finish, he walks to stand alongside you. The warmth of his proximity coaxes you to swivel the stool towards him even as you refuse to meet his gaze. You succeed until he places a thick hand on your thigh and delivers a gentle squeeze. It’s even worse for your resolve that his touch rests against your bare skin. Your sleep shorts rest too far up your leg to shield you from the calloused warmth of his palm. 

“You always have a choice.” He tilts his head to look into your eyes. “We can work something else out.” 

“I already said I’d handle it.” 

“Well, alright then,” he concedes as you stare down at his hand. 

A brief silence passes before he speaks up again, “Hey. Thanks for packing my lunch.”

You shake your head in dismissal. 

“Gonna think of you when I eat it today like always.” A small smile curls at his lips as he speaks. “Do I get my goodbye kiss, or has that privilege been revoked?” The tenderness of his thumb as it strokes your thigh yields a guilt that weaves through your ribcage like the bones constitute a sewing loom. 

When you don’t respond, Joel leans in to peck your forehead, his lips plush and warm.   

Two quick horn honks sound from outside. 

“I gotta run.” He withdraws his touch, letting his fingertips brush down your thigh until they fall away at the bend of your knee. “Thanks for getting the truck taken care of.”

He lingers for a moment before stepping back. “I’ll see you later this evening.” 

When Joel heads towards the front door, you don’t trail after him like you usually would. You watch his steady stride and broad shoulders as he crosses into the foyer. Before reaching for the knob, he pauses to look over his shoulder. 

“I love you.” 

He doesn’t leave until you murmur it back.

You watch the door for a few extra seconds after he’s gone.  

•••

When five o'clock rolls around, you find yourself curled on the couch with a book. Sunlight lights the pages. As beautiful and immersive as the prose is, all that lingers in your mind is this morning. How difficult you’d been with Joel, how he hadn’t taken your bait. Sometimes, you wondered if the well of his grace would ever run dry since all you seemed to do was draw from it. He should’ve stopped you one too many moons ago, but the thought never once crossed his mind. 

When you got to McBride’s Auto Shop earlier, your cramps had begun to subside. Waiting wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d built it up to be in your head, even with the grainy TV and the older woman chewing gum as she flipped through an outdated magazine. The fact you hadn’t kissed Joel goodbye was far worse. 

Soon, you hear Tommy pull up alongside the curb to drop Joel off. In seconds, you place the bookmark between the pages and toss the book onto the coffee table. 

When Joel saunters through the front door, you’re there to wrap your arms around his neck. Your earnestness is reminiscent of when the girls were little and ambushed him when he got home from work, no matter how tired he was or how many bags he happened to be holding. 

A surprised chuckle rumbles out of him as he clumsily kicks the door shut behind himself. You relish the sound of his laughter as if somebody tuned the sound just for you. Joel wraps his arms around your waist as best he can with his backpack still on his shoulders and lunchbox in his grip. 

You nuzzle your nose into his shirt gently, almost felinely. He smells like fresh air, underscored by a muskier, fragranced scent.

“Honey,” he coaxes, attempting to pull away. “Lemme put my stuff down.” 

You ease up long enough for him to pace further inside and set his bags on the floor. Then, your arms secure right back around him like they never left. The attention feels as lovely as it always does coming from you. Joel’s smile eventually settles into something small as he rubs your back in soothing passes. His large frame nearly swallows you, but he’s never come close to crushing you. 

“It’s good to see you too,” he finally says. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur into him, words almost too muffled to comprehend. “I was mean to you this morning and shouldn’t have been.” 

Joel has to laugh again. Not at you, but because he’d let himself believe this particularly warm welcome was completely uninspired. 

“I didn’t mean to make it such a big deal,” you say. “It’s that time of the month, and I took it out on you.” 

“Is that what it was?” he asks lightly, kissing your head. 

When he pulls away to get a better look at you, the warmth in his gaze strikes deeper than you expect. Either that or your hormones have begun to tug on your heart more insistently than they should. Before you can look away, tears well in your eyes, and Joel feels a slight pang of guilt as you try to blink them back. 

His thumb catches the one that slips down your cheek. “No harm done,” he assures.  

You nod as you lean into his touch. It still amazes you how one person can be so kind and attuned. 

“Gonna take a lot more than a bad mood to get rid of me,” he jokes, smiling when a low chuckle escapes you. 

“I’ll never wanna get rid of you.” 

“Give it a few more years,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

You swat his chest gently. 

A future without Joel sounds so far off that it comes across as no more than a joke. It’s so unforeseeable that you can’t imagine it teetering into reality. Maybe it was bold of you to feel that way—for both of you to feel that way, especially when there’s no road map detailing the days of your lives to come. 

All you know is that you’re cultivating your love for one another moment by moment, second by second. Surely, that was enough to endure whatever storms sprung up along the way. 

Joel squeezes you tighter as if he’s somehow thinking the same thing. 

You’re grateful for his grace, the trip to Boulder you’ll share, and everything to come with him. 

“How about carryout from Lorenzo’s?” he asks. 

That beats leftovers any day.

You finally capture his lips in a sweet kiss. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

JOEL MASTERLIST  

ALL MASTERLISTS 

[conundrums-and-cupcakes]

The Justice Battalion

Verse: Eddie's Emulators (cyberpunk verse)

(from left-to-right)

Superman/Clark Kent: an alien who represents the pinnacle of otherworldly power...and the zenith of midwestern kindness

B@t-Man/Tim Drake: a genius hacker and criminologist who operates in cyberspace as the "B@t-Man", an avatar of justice

The Batman/Jean-Paul Valley: a former special ops soldier who acts as the real life proxy of Tim Drake's "B@t-Man" avatar

Barda Free - formerly one of Apokolips’ mightiest warriors, now a devoted crusader of the anti-Darkseid agenda

The Atom/Ryan Choi: the discoverer and sole wielder of White Dwarfstar shrinking technology

The Canary/Dinah Lance: a cyborg armed with a deadly supersonic scream…and an even deadlier prowess in martial arts

Rocket Red/Dmitri Pushkin: a gifted engineer piloting the latest in Soviet mech-suit technology

The Witch/Zatanna Zatara: a powerful Eastern European sorceress sent to MetGothCity as an emissary of her coven

Adam Strange: the Battalion's earth-born space-faring explorer

[haologram]

forever is a feeling ♾️ l.sk [m]

synopsis: your 'stay-at-home' husband knows your job means a lot to you, but he knows he means twice as much. genre: established relationship au ; fluff, sprinkle of angst, suggestive. pairing: husband!lee seokmin x fem!wife!reader word count: 1.7k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: ...okay so seokmin is a liar BUT JUST TRUST ME? reader works a lot, reader is tired. reader is slightly self-depricating but this is literally lee seokmin, that doesn't fly here aaaand kissing ! maybe some soft petting. what to listen to: is this love - xg ; every kind of way - h.e.r ; nothing's gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after sex. author's note: this was originally going to be much longer but sometimes you just gotta shut the hell up! seokmin, my boy <3 welcome to the haologram blog, and i hope you enjoy this little thing.

YOUR SHOES MAKE A SOUND WHEN YOU ENTER THE APARTMENT.

It doesn't matter where Seokmin is, he hears it. Not the door, not the sound of your bag hitting the floor in defeat. He hears your shoes, the click of the low heel on the foyer tile before you stand still for two minutes and twenty seconds. He'll hear the soft thud of them being kicked off, and he can feel the tension in your calves dissipate as he closes his eyes. He'll remember the way you roll your ankles twice to the right, once to the left before you sigh.

Tonight? The burgundy loafers you wore to work are sticky against the tile – they're never sticky, they're slippery. He's in the home office, slotted deep into the recliner you'd kept from your college days. The worn leather feels like you – it feels well loved.

Your sigh bounces off the walls, before the sound of your shoes being kicked off rings in the foyer. Your bag hits the floor once more, and the thwip of your coat being haphazardly pulled off is heard.

The patter of your feet on the carpet isn't as distinguishable. He waits quietly, slotting a Taco Bell receipt into the book he's reading to hold his place. He hears the jingle of your bracelets against each other as your hand grabs the knob of the bedroom door, twisting carefully.

You're shuffling around, he can hear you still. Muttering something unintelligible as you likely pluck at the buttons of your blouse, or the buckle of your belt. He hears the drag of the heavy mahogany drawers, the creak of the hamper, the jingle of your jewelry box. He hears another sigh, bitter on your tongue as the bedroom door opens.

You clear your throat softly, but say nothing as you walk into the hallway bathroom. Clunking of bottles, running water, the soft clank of your toothbrush against the marble holder. The click of the light switch.

Your fingers rap softly against the office door, and he hears the thump of your forehead on the wood.

"Seok? Please, please tell me you're home."

You open the door with your eyes screwed shut, your breathing shaky as he peers at you. "Seok?" "I'm here, baby."

You nod silently, closing the office door behind you. The lock clicks quietly, and he watches the way your fists clench slightly. His eyes trail you carefully – his t-shirt, his boxer shorts, his socks.

Wedding bands on your left hand, and the watch he bought you in college on your right wrist.

You're tired. You're defeated, you're solemn. He lets you approach him on nights like this. It's like approaching a deer: any sudden movements could make you flinch, could make you swallow your horrible day and just ask if he wants dinner. Of course he wants dinner, but he doesn't want to eat dinner when you're not okay. It's not the same, eating with you when you're not really there.

"Can I–" "Yes. Come." He slides the book onto the side table, his eyes glued to you as you slink his way. Your shoulders are tense as his knees brush yours, your foot pushing his ankle and making him press them together. Your legs slide on either side of his, his hands ghosting over your skin. He doesn't touch you, not yet.

You settle carefully in his lap, your arms gently wrapping around his shoulders. He settles his palms against your thighs as your body sags in his hold. Your lips brush his temple, before you settle your face into the crook of his neck. He leans his head back against the recliner, letting you nose at the skin. He lets his skin prickle as you press a kiss to the dip of his shoulder.

His hands slide up and down your thighs softly, "Hi." "Mmh."  "Long day?" "Mmh." He smiles inwardly as you move impossibly closer to him, his fingers barely breaching the hem of his boxers on your body. "I love you." "I love you, honey." "She speaks." "Mmh, barely." It's okay. It's okay that you don't want to say anything, that you just want to float in the endorphin rush of being held softly, tenderly by your husband. It's okay that you just settle into him, like a puzzle piece, because the feeling of you is a feeling of forever.

"Dinner?" "Mmh." "Wonderful, I also want pizza. God, baby, you just get me." "Mmh."

He feels your lips curl against his skin, his fingers squeezing your hip softly. "Missed you today, you know. Didn't get my kiss this morning." "Mmh, I'm sorry." "You should be, you've been gone for fourteen hours. So long without my girl." "Mmh. Mmh?" "Yes, yes I did take the trash out." Your lips brush against his clavicle, making him gasp.

"You're evil." "Mmh?" "...Okay, I also did the laundry. And I washed your green sweater, the one with the star on the shoulder." You nod, trailing your lips up his neck, your teeth nipping at his earlobe. He shudders, patting the side of your leg. "Stop." "Tell me more about the things you did today." "You just wanna get in my pants. You won't even eat dinner with me."

You scoff, landing a soft smack to his shoulder as you push back to look at him. He smiles, his hands squeezing your thighs softly. 

"You're pretty." "So are you." "Oh, you like me so much." "I do." You roll your eyes, your hands rubbing his shoulders lightly. You cradle his face softly, "I like you so much, I think I love you." "You think?" "I know." "Oh, you should marry me then." "I should, shouldn't I? But who wants a wife that leaves at six in the morning and gets home at eight at night and complains about how her feet hurt–" His hands move to your wrists, pulling them off his face and interlacing your fingers with his.

"I do. I want a wife who works hard for the things that she wants. I want a wife who lets me rub her legs all night long and not just because her feet hurt. I want a wife who likes to eat an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked in one sitting, I want a wife who just says mmh, and I understand. I want a wife, matter of fact, who tries to sneak into the house every night as if I'm not just waiting for her to get home like a devoted dog. I. Want. You." "Devoted husband." You attempt to correct him, but he only plants a kiss on your cheeks.

"You keep this roof over our heads, you keep us warm, clean, fed. I don't like that you're gone for so long, but you insist you don't need help. I can't force you to let me help you, but I can and I will always try and make things easier for you. Even if that means I make breakfast you forget on the table, or if I press your slacks at the ass crack of dawn." Your lip is jutted in a pout, trembling slightly as he leans forward.

"I love you, okay? I'd do anything for you, forever." "Even if I forget to give you a kiss goodbye and I accidentally hit you in the face when I move in my sleep?" "Even then. You know, you last kissed me at nine yesterday. It is..eight-fifty-two." "Wow, you're a trooper." You nod, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes. "So brave, so strong." "It is eight-fifty-three." "Mmh?" "You just want me to kiss you first." "Mmh." He rolls his eyes, brushing his lips against yours. "I missed you, baby." He doesn't let you respond, kissing you softly. You smile into the kiss, moving his hands to your waist. His fingers grip the back of your shirt before splaying across your hips, feeling your tongue gently lick into his mouth.

"Nope, don't. We need to have dinner before we–" "I have three weeks of paid vacation time starting on Monday, we can literally have dinner any other time." He gapes, "You're kidding. That's literally, like, forever." "Forever is a feeling, you know. So…do you still want to have dinner now?" "...You know that we should, right?"

You only giggle as he peppers your skin in kisses, sighing before you run your hands through his hair. "Fine, fine. We'll have dinner. But–" "Yes, we can fool around while we wait for the delivery." "Mmh?" "And I'll rub your feet after." "You are an angel." And yet another night goes on, with Seokmin proving once more that forever is, in fact, a feeling. Sure, you'll be in his hands for three solid weeks – right in reach, melting for him over and over again. And sure, he'll miss you terribly when you inevitably go back to work, for fourteen hours a day. A fourteen-hour day where he cleans the entire apartment from crown molding to baseboards, where he shops for groceries, where he preps your lunches for the week.

A fourteen-hour day where he silently, secretly, works from home.

A secret you won't ever know about, not until you're ready to admit you want help. So he'll save the money, he'll keep quiet about the stress in his back. He'll rise with the sun, he'll kiss you goodbye every morning. He'll miss you, he'll yearn for the smell of your face cream until you lie down next to him at night, he'll hope the hours go by fast and he'll feel the weight of your leg on his hips as you fall asleep.

And he'll listen for your shoes, for the noises they'll make when you step into the apartment. 

It won't matter where Seokmin is, he'll hear it. He'll hear the comfort of it, of you finally coming home to him.

Not the sound of the door, not the sound of your bag hitting the floor in defeat. He'll hear your shoes, the click of the low heel on the foyer tile before you stand still for two minutes and twenty seconds to realize that you are home. He'll hear the soft thud of them being kicked off, and he will feel the tension in your calves dissipate as he closes his eyes. He'll remember the way you roll your ankles twice to the right, once to the left before you sigh.

It's all a routine, and a routine he's going to love forever.

After all…forever is a feeling.

haologram © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[archangeldyke-all]

PARAMEDIC SEV MEETING HER WIFE AND SAVIN MG HERRRRRRRREEEEEE

lush i love ur ideas omg

men and minors dni

you never should've agreed to babysit for silco and vander.

so what if it's their anniversary and they haven't had a dinner date all year. it's their own damn fault for deciding to have four fucking kids. you don't know what you were thinking agreeing to this-- but you're certainly paying the consequences now.

claggor hasn't been too bad-- doing his homework at the counter as you cooked dinner, helping you figure out where they store their spices and pots.

mylo was alright in the beginning, but as the night grew on and he started getting tired, he started getting grumpy and irritable.

jinx is always up to trouble-- she's been trying to trip you up all night, cackling each time you barely muffle a curse as you stumble.

and now, you've caught vi sneaking a girl into her room.

"violet, how do you even have a girlfriend, you're ten!" you shout.

"i'm eleven, and cait's not my girlfriend. she's just my bestie. and we practice kissing with each other sometimes." vi says with a shrug.

"what made you think you could have her over here tonight?!" you ask.

vi shrugs. "she comes over every wednesday, dads just haven't caught her yet."

you groan.

"i-i can leave." the posh girl in front of you offers. you heave a sigh.

"no, stay, i can't let you walk home in the dark. i'll drive you home when the old men get back, alright?"

vi grins and slams the door in your face.

you turn around just in time to dodge a shoe flying down the hall. behind you, it smacks mylo in the back of the head.

"what the fuck!" the boy shouts, turning around with a glare. jinx giggles from the other end of the hall. you want to cry.

"please just go to your rooms." you whine.

mylo just growls, grabbing the nearest small object and flinging it back at jinx.

only-- he's grabbed a letter opener, sitting by a pile of mail.

you gasp as the sharp object goes whizzing by your face-- headed straight to jinx's chest.

and before you know what's happening-- you're reaching out and snatching the object out of the air.

for a second, it's silent-- mylo and jinx both shocked by your quick thinking and the dangerous situation you all narrowly avoided. then, jinx shrieks.

"you just tried to kill me!"

"i thought it was just a pen!" mylo defends. "you threw dad's shoe at my head!"

"it was his house slipper! it barely hurt."

"oh, i'm gonna fuckin' kill y-- you're bleeding." mylo says.

jinx blinks, the argument forgotten as she looks over at you.

it takes you a few moments to realize that the kids are talking to you. you blink down at your hand, gasping when you find it covered in blood, trickling steadily onto the floor.

"oh. shit." you whisper. the pain hits you all at once and you take a sharp breath. "oh shit." you whine.

"w-what do we do?" jinx asks. you walk to the kitchen, mylo and jinx following close behind you, both of them nervous and worried about you.

"gotta run it under some water and see how deep the cut is." you whisper, placing your hand under the running tap.

you and the kids wait anxiously for the water to run clear, but it stays consistently red.

mylo cringes. "i think you cut something important." he mutters.

you gulp, the shock and adrenaline of the injury wearing off, leaving you shaky and very aware of how much blood you're losing.

"should i call dad?" jinx asks softly.

there's a shriek in the hall, and claggor comes sprinting into the kitchen, concern on his face. "what happened?!" he shouts.

you grunt. "i caught a knife."

claggor's eyes only widen more, and then he's pulling out his cellphone. "i'm calling an ambulance."

you, jinx, and mylo groan. "no! there's no need for the fuss." you try to argue.

claggor walks over to the sink, gagging at the sight of your hand. "there's a puddle of blood in the hall! and you're still bleeding!"

"'m fine." you mumble, getting a little dizzy. claggor groans.

"mylo, take her to the couch and lay her down. jinx, call dad."

"y'r a good kid." you mumble, ruffling claggor's hair with your uninjured hand as mylo guides you to the living room.

jinx brings you a glass of water as you wait.

you, jinx, and mylo sit on the couch-- your hand held over a bucket to catch all your blood-- watching claggor pace a hole in the carpet.

vi and her girlfriend only decide to see what the commotion is about when an ambulance pulls up out front.

you feel stupid and overwhelmed and your hand really fucking hurts, but you really don't want to cry in front of all your nieces and nephews.

and then, because the universe hates you, the most attractive woman you've ever seen in your life ends up being your paramedic.

jinx answers the door. you want to die when you see the angel standing on the porch. "someone called about a stabbing?" the woman asks.

you chuckle. "let her in jinx." the woman and her partner walk into silco and vander's home-- her eyebrows raising just a bit at the sight of you and the gaggle of children surrounding her. "not a stabbing. a knife thrown and caught." you say.

"really!?" vi asks, just now catching up on the drama of the night.

"yeah, because mylo tried to fucking kill me!" jinx shouts.

mylo groans. "how many times do i have to tell you i thought it was a pen! and you started it!"

you might actually start crying now. you're in so much pain, you're so overwhelmed, and you probably look gross as hell right now in front of this goddess of a paramedic, who's kneeling in front of you with a concerned look as she gently grabs your wrist.

"ran, why don't you take the kids out to the backyard and play a game? give us a little more space to work in here." the woman says to her partner.

ran grins. "you kids like freeze tag?" they ask.

the kids all burst into excited chatter, following ran out to the back of the house. you sigh in relief.

"thank you."

"i'm guessing they're not your kids?" the woman in front of you asks. you laugh, loud and surprised. you suppose it's better than crying.

"oh, fuck no! i'm their aunt, which i don't usually mind, unless it means i have to fuckin' babysit." you pout. "the tallest girl with the blazer on isn't even theirs. caught her sneakin' in to see the redhead. apparently they're besties who practice kissing." you say with a roll of your eyes.

the woman in front of you laughs. "i had a few of those back in the day." you gulp, your eyes bulging out of your head at her words. she looks back up at you with concern.

"does it hurt?" she asks. you blink, not understanding what she's referencing before you finally remember your hand. the hand she's gently cleaning with alcohol.

"you like women?" you ask miserably. the woman in front of you blinks.

"...yes?" she asks. "is that a prob--" you burst into tears before she can continue. "woah-- what, hey! what's happening? does it hurt? are you okay?"

"sorry, sorry!" you cry, waving away her concern and covering your face with a hand. "fuck this is humiliating. ignore me." you cry.

she blinks. "this is the weirdest homophobic reaction i've ever gotten."

you laugh, snot and tears flowing freely as you giggle. "no!" you squeak. "no, that's not-- just fuckin'-- of course you're a hot lesbian. i get all dressed up every weekend and go out lookin' for someone and i get nothing. i cut my fuckin' hand open after chasing kids around all day and the universe sends me the hottest woman i've ever seen. and she's a lesbian. and i'm soaked in sweat and blood and i'm pretty sure i smell like pre-teen armpits." you cry.

the woman in front of you cackles, her pretty silver eyes sparkling as she starts wrapping up your hand. "just a little. but i smell like vomit." she says with a shrug. you giggle and wipe up your tears.

"sorry." you say again. she smiles at you.

"it's okay. you're cute. 'specially now that i know you're into me and not, y'know. a bigot."

you giggle, shaking your head. "don't flirt with me." you scold. the woman beside you laughs.

"you started it!"

"i did not! i was having an emotional breakdown and you were accusing me of homophobia. i don't even know your name!"

"sevika." she says with a sweet smile. "my name's sevika. and, for the record, you're hot soaked in sweat and blood." sevika says with a shrug.

you grin. "do i need stitches?" you ask.

sevika shakes her head no. "it was bleeding a lot, but you didn't cut too deep. just keep the bandages on for a the night and change 'em out tomorrow. you should be healed up in a few days. i'll give you some cream-- if you get infected or irritated, or it doesn't heal; go to the ER."

you nod. "does that mean you're leaving, now?"

she chuckles. "worried about the kids?"

"no, well, now i am now that you mention it." you say. sevika laughs. "i was just..." you trail off.

sevika's just doing her job. she's fucking fantastic at it-- but that's all this is. she kept you talking to keep you distracted, she flirted a bit so the pain wouldn't be so bad, and now she's leaving.

"you were just what?" she asks.

you shrug. "it's inappropriate."

"can't be as bad as the old man who answered his door naked for us earlier today." she says with a shrug. you giggle.

"maybe i could get your number? in case i need help changing the bandages."

sevika grins. "yeah? that's why?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

you giggle and shrug. "and maybe so i can show you how nice i clean up. take you out to dinner as a thank you."

"yeah, alright. i could be into that." sevika agrees.

you grin, then scramble for a piece of paper and a pen, eagerly handing sevika the scrap of paper. she pockets it with a sweet, shy smile.

her and ran take off a few minutes later, and silco and vander get home right after. it takes you an hour to catch them up with the events of the night: informing them of their children's petty feuds, that their daughter has a girlfriend, and that they've got a giant puddle of blood to clean up outside their room. they thank you, and with a promise that you'll never have to babysit again, you finally head home.

it's been a crazy night. you're exhausted. the moment you get home, you crawl in bed, ready for sleep.

but right before you drift off, your phone buzzes.

it's sevika, the hot lesbian.

you grin. another text comes through.

i got this weekend off, wanna treat me to that dinner you were talking about?

you end up staying up the rest of the night, texting the paramedic and giggling like you imagine vi does when she's on the phone with cait.

alright... maybe this night wasn't all that bad...

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ANIMAL INSTINCT

PAIRING: logan howlett x vampire mutant!female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY:

after helping you out by letting you feed from him, logan asks you to return the favor.

part two of bloodthirsty

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you for all the love on bloodthirsty! here’s a nice and smutty second part. big thank you to @guiltyasdave for reading this over for me 💕

TAGS/WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), x-men (2000) logan howlett, able bodied reader, vampire mutant!reader, no use of y/n, single POV - reader, primal play (chase/capture), gratuitous use of growling/roaring, light fighting, mentions of blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex (in the woods), oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie, dirty talk, blade play (the claws come out).

Logan finds you in an empty hallway one afternoon, about two weeks after your encounter in the kitchen. You made the mistake of making eye contact, leaving you unable to turn and pretend you didn't see him like you've been doing since that night. 

"You avoiding me or something?" he says, hint of a smile on his lips. 

"No," you reply quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Haven't seen you around much lately."

"Just busy."

"Right." He looks away for a moment, hands on his hips. "Look, I got a proposition for you."

"I don't--"

"I got this issue--," he continues, ignoring your response "--where it gets to be too much, you know? And I helped you out so--"

"What are you talking about?" you interrupt.

His voice drops a bit lower. "We're predators, right? And I don't know about you but sometimes my prey drive can be...too much, if you catch my drift."

"Okay..."

"And I got two words for you - quid pro quo."

You blink at him. "Logan, that's three words."

"I thought pro quo was one word."

"Why would you think that?"

"We're getting off topic," he says, waving his hands. “Think you can help a guy out?"

"Help you...how, exactly?"

You agree to meet Logan at the edge of the dense forest that surrounds the X Mansion at nightfall and as you walk through the grounds blanketed in darkness, your senses begin to feel more alive. Anticipation courses through you and the further you venture from the mansion, the darker the night becomes.

Logan is already there when you arrive, tension rolling off of him in waves. He gives you a tight smile.

"Took you long enough," he says. You roll your eyes.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" You gesture to the forest. "So, what now?"

"You run," Logan replies. "I hunt."

The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. What he's asking for goes against your nature but some deep part of you is eager to please. 

You take off through the trees, running as fast as your legs will carry you across the soft forest floor. With your enhanced speed, it's not long before you're miles from the manicured mansion grounds, surrounded by gnarled roots and a thick canopy of leaves that blocks nearly all light from the moon.

You slow to a stop, catching your breath. The snap of a branch is the only warning you get before Logan's heavy weight barrels into you, sending you both tumbling to the ground with him coming out on top, smiling down at you, a wild glint to his eyes.

"Gotta do better than that, bub," he says. He stands up, holding a hand out to help you to your feet. "I'll give you a head start this time."

"I don't need a head start," you grumble. "I'm faster than you."

He laughs. "We'll see about that."

You start running, his laughter ringing in your ears. Your path is less direct this time, weaving through the trees and doubling back to leave your scent in more places and crossing a small creek with the hopes that the running water helps to cover your tracks. You grow comfortable enough in your lead that you begin to slow down, keeping yourself attuned to the sounds of the forest and any changes that might indicate Logan has found you.

The trees break into a vast clearing, tall grass swaying in the breeze. Moonlight trickles past the branches, stripes of faint light illuminating the floor. You take a moment to appreciate the tranquility of it, but the calm is short lived when you catch movement at the corner of your eye.

Logan steps through the trees. He's removed his shirt, thick muscle glimmering with sweat, his chest heaving with labored breath. Your mouth goes dry at the sight and for a moment you really do understand what it's like to be prey, faced with something so deadly it's almost hypnotizing, impossible to look away even when you’re in danger. He stalks closer and you feel frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

"Found you," he growls. 

Your survival instinct kicks into gear and you attempt to run away, sprinting across the glade with renewed vigor. If you can make it back into the forest you know you could shake him loose again, but staying in the clearing makes you a clear target. 

Logan roars, the sound loud enough to shake the branches of nearby trees. You risk a glance over your shoulder and are met with the sight of the man on all fours, running towards you with single minded determination. He rapidly closes the distance with impressive speed, wrapping his arms around you and taking you down to the ground for the second time that night.

You grapple with him, landing a kick to his chest that gives you the chance to crawl out from beneath him. He reaches a hand out for your ankle and drags you back toward him, using his weight to hold you in place. You wiggle an arm free and strike at his face, though he dodges and your fingernails scrape against his neck, leaving red gashes in their wake that heal in the blink of an eye. He pins your arm to the ground above your head.

"No more runnin’,” he says, a command that shoots straight to your core. You know he’s not talking about just tonight, but rather how you’ve been avoiding him. 

But how were you supposed to face him when the only thoughts you had of him since then were about how sweet he tasted, how good he felt, how much you wanted more, more, more that you couldn’t possibly ask him to give?

Your inner turmoil is lost when his lips slam against yours in a kiss that’s hot and hungry, stealing your breath with its ferociousness. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you gasp at the sharp sting of pain that lights up your nerves. There’s nothing gentle about it, but you’re not gentle creatures and the beasts that pace and snarl beneath your ribcage have finally broken free.

Logan breaks the kiss to stare down at you with wild eyes. Blood, your blood, stains his lips and his tongue darts out to lick it away with a satisfied hum. He leans in close, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, mouth open against your skin with the threat of sharp teeth over your racing pulse.

“Can’t hide it,” he says. “Not when I can smell it on you, sweetheart.”

“Smell what?” 

“How much you want it.” He nips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss. “How much you want me.”

Heavy hands find the hem of your shirt, shoving it up your chest until it’s bunched beneath your armpits. He pulls down your bra to expose your breasts and your nipples tighten at the sudden burst of cold air against your skin but his mouth is on you in an instant, warm tongue tracing the taut buds. Your back arches at the sensation and you dig your fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands. He hums with pleasure as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same maddening attention.

His palm slides down your belly, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and finding your needy center, swirling through the mess you’ve already made in your underwear. You can feel the smug grin on Logan’s face before he even lifts his head to look at you.

“That’s what I thought.” He withdraws his hand, holding it up to his face. In the moonlight you catch a glimpse of the strands of slick stretching between his index and middle finger before he sticks them in his mouth with a groan, licking them clean. “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.”

The metallic sound of his claws unsheathing reaches your ears and your pulse jumps as he drags the blunt side of a single blade up the inside of your thigh. The tip catches on the fabric covering your pussy and with one quick move of his wrist he slices through your pants. His claw disappears and he reaches down with both hands to tear the fabric further.

Logan settles on his belly with his head between your thighs, your legs propped up on his broad shoulders. He kisses your pussy over the soaked fabric of your underwear but

spares you any further teasing, grabbing your panties in a tight fist and pulling roughly until the elastic snaps against your skin and he holds the torn fabric in his fist. He tosses them aside and buries his face in your cunt, devouring you like a man on a mission. His tongue alternates circling your sensitive clit and dipping into your dripping entrance, expertly tracing every inch of you. You’re so lost to the pleasure that you don’t notice him getting to his knees until he’s lifting your hips, hands gripping your ass tightly to keep your lower body suspended in the air and his mouth sealed to your cunt.

“Fuck!” you cry out, muscles growing tense as your orgasm builds. It hits you like a tidal wave, coursing through your veins as you shout his name like a prayer. His hold remains tight as he works you through it until you grow boneless in the aftermath.

He lowers you slowly back to the ground and you fight to catch your breath while he quickly removes his belt and shoves his jeans down enough to free his cock. You watch him take himself in hand, a brief slide of his fist over his impressive length before he runs the glistening head through your sensitive folds, bumping your clit and making you shiver.

Logan’s gaze remains fixed to yours as he presses forward, breaching your tight entrance. Your body accepts him greedily, the slight sting and stretch barely a thought when all you can focus on is how full he makes you feel.

His lips find yours for a messy kiss while he begins to thrust, a slow drag of his cock from your body followed by a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs. You cling to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. The scent of his blood invades your senses and your teeth begin to ache at the memory of his taste. 

Your teeth catch on his lip and he hisses but doesn’t pull away. Copper blooms across your taste buds and you can’t help the desperate moan that escapes into the kiss.

“Come on, baby,” Logan says. “Take a bite.”

You rest a palm on the back of his head, urging him closer, lifting your head and kissing his neck, licking the salty taste of him from over his fluttering pulse. You open your mouth, sinking your teeth into skin and muscle and vein until warm blood spills into your mouth. The combination of his blood on your tongue and his cock spreading you open sends you over the edge.

Above you, Logan growls, a deep rumble you can feel down to your marrow, some ancient part of you preening with excitement. He holds himself still as you clench around him. Your orgasm slowly subsides and you find the strength to unclench your tense jaw from his neck, gently licking at the blood that spills from the deep impressions of your teeth.

Logan sits up, cock slipping from your body and leaving you achingly empty. His hands grip your hips, forcefully turning your lax body over and hiking your ass into the air. He spreads your cheeks and the vulnerable position has your whole body growing hot.

“Hope you didn’t think we were done,” he tells you as he positions himself behind you, thrusting his length back into your body and setting a brutal pace that has you crying out into the night. 

One hand holds your hip with bruising force while the other settles on your shoulder, pulling you into every delicious snap of his hips. Your mind goes blissfully blank with the overwhelming pleasure building up inside of you for the third time.

He folds forward, his chest pressed to your back and his pace growing sloppy as he nears his own release. A hand curls around yours, a moment of intimacy that leaves you reeling.

Logan roars, hips slamming into a final time, dragging your last orgasm from you as his cock pulses with his release inside of you. A sharp pain on your hip makes you gasp and you notice his claws have extended from the hand wrapped around yours, sinking into the dirt.

“Shit,” he pants, sitting up after a moment. The loss of his heat makes you shiver. “I nicked you.”

You slowly move yourself into a seated position, muscles feeling like jelly, and inspect the area that the pain came from. Your leggings have a new slice in the fabric and the material is sticky with blood but to your surprise, there’s no wound to be found.

“You heal that quick?” Logan asks. You shake your head.

“Not usually.” You run your fingers over smooth skin. “Must have been your blood.”

“You think so?”

You shrug. “Just a guess. Never fed from someone with advanced healing factor.”

“You sayin’ I’m your first?” he asks with a smirk. You can’t help the laugh that escapes and his smirk stretches into a grin. Logan stands, fixing his pants and holding a hand out to help you up. 

“How am I supposed to get back into the mansion like this?” you ask, gesturing to your destroyed leggings. 

“Guess I didn’t think that through,” he admits. “Give me a few minutes and I can be back with some new clothes.”

“How are you going to get into my room?”

He turns to look at you, continuing to walk backwards.

“I’m a man of many talents.”

With a wink, he disappears through the trees. You sigh.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Thank you for reading!

LINKS

all masterlists | logan howlett masterlist | support for palestine

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗑 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋!

pairing : logan howlett x afab!reader warnings : pregnancy, kissing, food mentions, fluff word count : 1k

you’re curled up on the couch, hand resting on your belly, when logan walks in. he’s sporting his usual tough exterior, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he sees you. he drops his keys on the table and makes his way over, sitting beside you, closer than usual.

“how’re you feeling?” he asks, voice low, almost gruff, like he’s trying not to let too much concern show. but you know him well enough to catch it.

you smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “a bit tired. baby’s been kicking a lot today.”

he reaches out, hesitating for just a second before resting his hand on your belly, his fingers splayed out. he’s not one for grand gestures, but this small one speaks volumes. “this little one’s got some fight in ‘em,” he says, a hint of pride in his tone.

“just like their dad,” you tease, nudging him gently. you feel the warmth of his hand through your shirt, grounding you in a way that words never could.

he huffs a quiet laugh, but his eyes are serious when he looks at you. “you’re okay, though? really?”

you nod, reaching up to touch his cheek. “i’m okay, logan. really.”

there’s a moment of silence, the kind that’s comfortable, where neither of you feel the need to fill it with words. logan’s thumb strokes your belly absentmindedly, and you can tell he’s lost in thought.

“you ever… think about what it’s gonna be like?” he finally asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“all the time,” you admit. “sometimes it’s scary, but mostly… i’m excited.”

he shifts a little, like he’s trying to find the right words. “i don’t… i mean, i know i’m not the best at this stuff. i’m not good with, y’know, talking about… feelings. but i’m here. for you. for both of you.”

his words are clumsy, but they hit you straight in the heart. you know how hard it is for him to open up like this, and it means more to you than anything. you take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently.

“you’re already doing great, logan,” you say softly. “we’re in this together, remember?”

he nods, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit. “yeah. together.”

another kick makes you both jump a little, and logan’s eyes widen in surprise. “was that…?”

you laugh, nodding. “yeah, i think they’re trying to say hi.”

logan’s expression softens in a way that makes your heart melt. he leans down, pressing his forehead against your belly. “hey, kiddo,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough but filled with an emotion that makes your throat tighten. “can’t wait to meet you.”

he stays like that for a while, his breath warm against your skin, and you run your fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. this is your life now, and it’s more than you ever hoped for.

when he finally sits back up, there’s a small, almost shy smile on his face. “you hungry? i could make something… or we could order in, whatever you want.”

“you cooking?” you raise an eyebrow playfully. “now that’s something i’d like to see.”

“hey, ‘m not that bad,” he grumbles, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “but seriously, you gotta eat. it’s important.”

“you’re right,” you agree, feeling a wave of affection for him. “how about we order in? and maybe we can try cooking together later. it could be fun.”

logan seems to consider this, then nods. “yeah, bub. that sounds good.”

you pick up your phone, scrolling through options while logan watches, still keeping one hand on your belly, as if he needs that connection to both of you. you glance at him, catching the way his eyes soften whenever he looks at you, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“what?” he asks when he notices you staring.

“nothing,” you say, smiling. “just… i’m really glad it’s you, logan. that ‘m doing all this with you.”

he looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he just leans in, kissing your forehead. it’s a simple gesture, but it’s filled with everything he’s not saying, everything he’s not good at putting into words.

“me too,” he finally whispers against your skin.

logan’s arm tightens around you as you settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder. the quiet between you is filled with a kind of warmth that makes you feel safe, like nothing in the world could touch you here. you tilt your head up, catching his gaze.

“logan,” you whisper, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

he looks down at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes so full of something deep, something that you know is hard for him to show. without a word, he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. you can feel his rough calluses against your skin, a reminder of just how strong and steady he is.

his eyes search yours, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but then he just dips his head, closing the small gap between you. his lips meet yours, gentle at first, almost like he’s afraid of breaking you, but when you kiss him back, he deepens it, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

it’s not a desperate kiss, not rushed or frantic. it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into this one moment. you can feel the warmth of him, the way his breath mingles with yours, and it makes you feel more connected to him than ever.

when you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, but neither of you moves far. his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady his breathing.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “you and the baby… you’re my everything.”

you smile, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “i know. and you’re ours.”

he leans in for one more quick kiss, a soft brush of his lips against yours, before he pulls back, his hand finding its place on your belly again. the world outside feels distant, unimportant. right here, with him, is where you’re meant to be.

[hairmetal666]

The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.

"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.

"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."

"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"

"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."

"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"

Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.

"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"

There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.

"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"

He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.

"Uhh," Eddie says.

The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."

And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!

"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."

Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--

"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.

The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."

"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"

The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."

For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.

The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."

This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.

The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."

With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.

Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.

The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.

"I'm Eddie!"

"I know!"

The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"

Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."

Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."

He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.

"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"

Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."

[monstersholygrail]

Penny for your thought...if puppy reader and wolf bf will have pups, all or half of them will inherit momma's zoomies

I freaking love thinking about when they have pups!!! Thinking about them and not smiling is an impossible challenge but thinking about them as parents makes me smile so wide my cheeks hurt!!

I can see Wolf Hybrid bf and Puppy Hybrid Reader having maybe three pups. Eldest being a girl, middle a boy, and the youngest another girl. Wolf Hybrid has a deep bond with all his kids but he gives such girl dad energy even to his son lol.

Their eldest pup is tough and chaotic like them both. Shes energetic but more so in the she’s loud and demands attention. She gives cute little snarls before she’ll charge and tackle one of her siblings to play like a battle cry. She encourages confidence and enforces anarchy despite how much she loves her parents and will cuddle so much whenever she’s tired.

Their middle pup is stoic, the strong and silent type like dad. But he’s less of a grump and kinda more reserved and shy. He worries about his sisters and looks after them a lot bc they get into more trouble than he does. But his elder sister has been getting him out of his shell more and he gives into the zoomies sometimes.

Their youngest pup is both a grump and very energetic. Shes the one who does the most zoomies out of all of them. And she’ll get very upset if she’s interrupted from them, even if it’s for her own good. She is not afraid of a challenge and does what she can to prove you wrong.

(Cute blurb below the cut hehe. Istg can’t help myself)

I imagine the youngest is running around, miraculously avoiding all of the toys and the general mess around the house. Yet your son is sitting next to Wolf Hybrid on the couch, watching his sister with worry.

“Be careful! You’re gonna get hurt!” He calls out, making the youngest immediately stop to stare at him in disbelief.

Wolf Hybrid doesn’t look up from his meal as he claps his son’s tiny shoulder. Knowing what awaits his son but wanting to give him a little boost of encouragement.

“Good boy,” he says with a natural deep-rooted pride. His love for his pups infinite even if he isn’t sure how to fully express it all the time.

But still he scooches down the couch anyways, knowing pups gotta be pups. He knows his kids like the back of his hand. So still he doesn’t look up from his meal at what happens next.

“Don’t you tell her what to do!” Your eldest yells, coming running out from thin air.

Your eldest and youngest rush in on their brother and tackle him at the same time. The three of them rolling around and play fighting on the couch as their father sits on the other end, minding his own business. Mostly.

“Good girls,” is all he says, that same pride shining through his tone. Your eldest’s growls grow louder at the encouragement and he can’t help but laugh.

You walk into the room a moment later, merely glancing at your kids causing their usual chaos. Before you can even glance down at Wold Hybrid his arm is already curling around your waist and dragging you into his lap.

“You hungry?” He asks, offering some of his meal to you. His eyes all soft, sleepy, and affectionate look at you like you’ve given him the entire world and now he just wants to dote on you every moment he can.

You happily accept as the two of you enjoy the peaceful insanity that is your family. Eventually your kids will all tire themselves out and join you both for the meal Wolf Hybrid cooked himself.