#there’s pretty girls on every corner they’re watching as he’s walking home

[wewontbesleeping]

stay beautiful and gold rush are the same songs fourteen years apart. both about a near-miss with just the idea of something. but stay beautiful is optimistic and youthful and gold rush is by someone old enough to know better.

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[xmanicmushroomx]

nsfw alphabet || katsuki bakugou

tags: aged up katsuki bakugou x fem!reader, nsfw alphabet

cw: HEAVY nsfw [obvi], mention of bodily fluids, slight bdsm themes??, sexual positions and scenarios

a/n: holy shit you guys???? 1k notes on my “your birthday party” bakugou scenario??? i’m so blown away. you’re all so amazing and i hope you know how deeply appreciated you are.🥹 to celebrate, here’s an nsfw alphabet for our favorite boom boy.

a is for aftercare (what they're like after sex)

katsuki is so incredibly attentive after sex. he’ll bring you a glass of water and a warm wash cloth, clean you up, and then he’ll pull you into his arms so the two of you can go to sleep.

b is for body part (their favorite body part on their partner)

he’s an ass man, through and through. he’s always touching your ass: slapping or pinching it as you walk past, hand in your back pocket when you’re out in public, sneaking his fingers up your dress while you two stand in the corner of a crowded elevator. he can’t get enough of watching your cheeks get red from his blatant teasing.

c is for cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

if he’s not cumming inside you, he’s cumming on you. he loves making a mess of you. he treats it like marking his territory, covering your face with it and taking pictures of you like that. [he doesn’t share them with anyone, obviously, he just pulls them out and shows them to you anytime you think you can outdo his attitude. “you keep talking to me like that and you’re gonna end up on your knees looking like this again, pretty girl. shut your mouth.”]

d is for dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

no one knows how you and bakugou really met. your story is always “oh, we reunited at a conference a couple years back and just clicked!” but that is complete, utter bullshit. you’ve been friends with benefits since just after your graduation from ua. the two of you caught feelings, HARD, and decided you needed more.

e is for experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

does he know what he’s doing? he genuinely might tie you to the bed if you ask him that question face to face. even if he’s not experienced, he’s a quick learner. the second he finds that spot that has your eyes rolling back, he’s absolutely abusing it until you’re a stuttering, drooling, mindless mess underneath him.

f is for favorite position (this goes without saying)

bakugou can’t stand to not look at your face while he’s fucking you. he wants to see every expression and gauge every little reaction you have to him. he hikes your knees over his shoulders and practically folds you in half, nose to nose, hands in your hair to pull your face closer to his, “eyes on me, babygirl,” “if you close your eyes again i’m stopping”.

g is for goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

bedroom bakugou is always. all. business. he’s not messing around. he has one goal — make you cum as many times as possible, and then take care of himself with your body.

h is for hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it’s thick and just slightly darker than his hair. he keeps it trimmed and neat for you, but if you didn’t ask for it, he would rather let it do what it does without a care in the world.

i is for intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he always reassures you before. [“you know i love you, right, mamas?”] but during… oh boy. [“‘cause i’m about to fuck you like i hate you.”]

j is for jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he used to, when you two would have to go weeks between seeing each other. but now that you sleep in the same bed every night, he doesn’t have to.

k is for kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s dominant, no questions asked. and he loves brats. it riles him up when you go to an event together and catch an attitude with him. he’ll fuck it out of you the second you get back home. if your attitude is really bad, he’s dragging you to a secluded guest room to put you on your knees.

l is for location (favorite places to do the do)

any- and everywhere. he’s sliding a hand up your skirt under tables, sitting you on his lap whenever possible, pulling you into a closet or kitchen to pin you against the wall or push you down on your knees.

m is for motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

your attitude is his biggest turn on. when you start mouthing off to him, he knows what you really want to say is, “please fuck me on the nearest possible surface before i lose my mind.”

n is for no (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

drunk-you and asleep-you are both completely off limits [unless you are into that and specifically ask him to do it]. if either of you show even slight discomfort at anything new, he stops immediately. he’s not one to be outright opposed to most things you suggest.

o is for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

when it comes to oral, he’s a giver and a taker. he’ll lick your cunt until his jaw is numb just to hear those pretty noises falling from your lips. he’s patient when you’re offering, tangling his fingers in your hair and letting you set the pace. but when he’s punishing you.. i hate to tell you, girlie, but your throat is a goner :)

p is for pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

this honestly goes both ways, depending on what he wants out of it at the moment. sometimes, he just wants to worship your body — everything is slow and sweet, whispering in your ear how much he loves you, “you’re fucking divine, baby”, tending to your every request. other times, however — like when he’s had a particularly bad day — he is absolutely fucking you through the mattress and growling low, empty threats in your ear. “shut up and take it, mamas,” “gonna tie you to this bed if you don’t stay fucking still”, “need’a cum inside this pussy before i start blowing shit up”

q is for quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he loves them. he’ll take you at every opportunity. [see location!]

r is for risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

ohhh yes. he’ll have the most random idea for a position, kink, or anything else sex-related. he’ll ask you about it beforehand, of course, because he’s not just gonna spring the shit on you in the middle of it. if you’re interested in giving it a go, he’s absolutely trying it.

s is for stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

this man could go all day. he’s spent YEARS perfecting his body, increasing his stamina, training his entire system to be as active as possible for as long as possible, to be a hero. and he’s absolutely no different in the bedroom.

t is for toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’ll use them on you — but just to tease you, because the only things you’re cumming on when he’s around are his fingers or his cock. his favorite toy is the vibrator that connects to his phone. he’ll sit you on the bed and kneel between your legs when you’re both getting ready for an event, lapping at your clit while he slides it inside you. [“be a good girl tonight, or else i’m maxing this thing out while you’re talking to someone until you behave.”]

u is for unfair (how much they like to tease)

bakugou will tease you until you’re crying out of desperation. he’ll relentlessly brush his fingertips against your sweet spot, over and over, until you’ve cum so many times and you’re so sensitive it hurts. it satisfies him to no end, smirking like an absolute devil, while you sit there with tears in your eyes begging him to fuck you already.

v is for volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

bakugou doesn’t do loud. he’s yelling at everyone all the time, so sex is the one instance where he’s always calm and collected. what he does do, however, is whisper or growl in your ear about everything. [“you’re so wet for me, mamas.” “always such a good girl.” “you can do it, baby, gimme one more.”]

w is for when (is there a specific time of day they like to do it most?)

bakugou is always doing something sexual. he teases you all day, if he doesn’t already have you underneath him in bed all day.

x is for x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

he puts the word muscular to shame. he’s a pro hero, #2 at that, so of course he’s fit as a fiddle. he trains daily. broad shoulders, narrow hips, long arms and legs. he’s extremely proud of his own dick — ten and a half inches long and just thick enough that it stretches you out enough to feel like the first time — every. single. time.

y is for yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

this man could fuck you before every meal and he’d still want more. making you come undone is his own private serenity, and sometimes he genuinely thinks it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

z is for zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

after taking care of you and making sure you feel okay, he wraps you in his arms and pulls your head against his chest. he’s out like a light [and you usually are, too.]

[turcott3]

then he kissed me

nick moldenhauer x fem! reader

warnings?: light alcohol, cursing, fluff!!!!!

masterlist

-

you drag your feet through the kitchen aiming for your daily bowl of cereal, rubbing the sleep from your eyes

“what the fuck?” you question, walking out of your room for the first time today, seeing dylan, your roommates boyfriend, and all of the boys in your living room, scaring the living daylights out of you.

“don’t worry, we will be making you dinner since we’re staying here for a few days.” dylan replies quickly.

“you’re what?” you reply still in a sleepy state.

“oh did she not tell you?”

“tell me what?”

“our air conditioning broke and she offered to let us stay for a few days until it’s fixed.” nick butts in.

“oh, okay.” you reply, grabbing the box from your pantry, continuing your morning routine, this time with 5 pairs of eyes watching you.

“i feel like a zoo animal. quit staring.” you say giggling to them, as you take the bowl over to the couch.

you weren’t sure how many days they were going to be there but you sure enjoyed the idea of a group of good looking guys making you dinner every night.

-

“so what do you guys want us to make?” nick asks, standing in the kitchen with the boys, asking you and your roommates what you’d want for dinner.

“i could use a good steak? what about you guys?” you ask the other two and they nod.

“maybe like steak and mac and cheese?” one of your roommates replied.

“i feel like that’s doable.” dylan replies grabbing his keys.

“don’t forget we’re going out tonight guys.” your roommate yells from the bathroom and you sigh, walking into the kitchen.

“we’ll be back.” dylan says, convincing mark and ethan to tag along.

“they’re going out?” nick whispers to you

“yeah they go out every weekend. but i don’t drink or anything so i never go.” you reply, a disappointed look spreading across your face.

“i don’t drink either, i can just hang back with you if that’s okay?”

“yeah that’d be perfect.” you blush.

after a while the boys came home and put the food in the fridge, your roommates distracting them with liquor since it was now past 6 pm.

“well there goes dinner.” you sigh sitting next to nick on the couch as the girls finished getting ready for their weekly outing.

“hey its okay, we can cook once they leave. we know they’ll be out forever.” he replies.

“you’re right. i’m a terrible cook though.”

“it’s okay, i can teach you. we have plenty of time. and i promise it’s not that hard.” he giggles, a blush spreading on your cheeks.

“deal.”

-

“you think it’s seasoned enough?” you ask the boy who’s standing just across the island.

“yeah, i heated the skillet you can just plop it on there.” he says and you do so, carrying the steak over to the skillet and dropping it on there.

“now what?” you ask as he rounds the corner.

“we just wait.”

“wait until when?” you say hopping up onto the counter.

“until it’s cooked how you like it.” you say stepping toward you, arms on either side of your legs.

“what’s the one where it’s like a little bit pink in the middle?” you reply, trying to keep your eyes from gawking at the boy who’s less than a foot away from you.

“medium well i think is what you’re wanting.” he giggles, stepping away from you and checking the underside of the steak.

“i need to show you something.” he says holding his hand out for you to get off the counter. he steps to the side, you taking his original place.

“take the tongs and check the bottom.”

“it looks pretty brown.”

“alright now flip it.” he says and you pick it up, flipping it quickly.

“there you go, and now we wait again and we’ll cut her open to see how it looks.” he responds. you sat and chatted for a while before you decide you’re ready to check. nick grabs the knife from the block, stepping behind you, arms running around your body making you nervous. carefully, he cuts the steak open a little bit.

“how does that look?” he asks in your ear, chin lightly nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

“it looks good, i think it’s finished.” you reply and he turns off the stove. the two of you split the large steak, enjoying each others company on the couch. talking and laughing for hours on end.

-

once the group finally came home after hours of being out, you’d finally asked him to come to your bathroom as you wanted to get ready for bed, not wanting to leave his side. you’d grown so close over the few hours you spent together. he now went from the boy you knew least to the boy you knew most. as well as the boy you were now most fond of.

you turn on spotify on your tv, listening to your daily jams. it was nice to finally hear the music you wanted to listen to versus your roommates getting ready to go out music.

“you got an extra one of those?” he asks pointing to the big bow headband you used to move your hair out of your face.

“i sure do.” you smile, opening your linen closet door and handing him your extra one. he puts it on, adjusting the bow to be in the middle and turns to you.

“how do i look?” he asks.

“gorgeous.” you giggle as the smile on his face grows wider. you pass him your face wash, enjoying the fact that he was wanting to enjoy your nightly routine with you.

“i got water all over my shirt.” he says sitting up, face dripping.

“do you want my to grab you another?”

“nah nah, i’ll just take it off.” he says and immediately does so, having to hold your jaw shut at the looks of his body. once you’ve completed your routine, you take off your headband, asking for his.

“damn i gotta give it back so soon?” he frowns.

“it’ll be yours for your stay alright?” you giggle and he nods in agreement.

he exits your bathroom before you as you finished putting away your products and organizing your closet so it looked a little neater for the boy you now had an even deeper crush on. you couldn’t believe how sweet he was. you always thought boys that looked like him would be shallow and inconsiderate. you walked out of your bathroom to him dancing on his phone. you silently plopped down on your bed giggling at him.

“oh what- sorry.” he blushes stopping quickly.

“no it was cute. i wish i knew how to dance. i’m so bad.” you reply.

“i know a thing or two, do you want me to teach you?” he asks.

“yes.” you reply shyly.

“stand up.” he requests, locking the door so he knew you wouldn’t get interrupted by any drunk dumbasses.

“put your hands on my shoulders,” he says grabbing your wrists, “like this.”

“okay.” you say, adjusting your grip on his shoulders.

“and i’m gonna put mine on your waist.” he says putting them a little high up.

“nick you can go lower, you’re almost touching my ribcage.”

“i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“no it’s okay, that’s very sweet of you though.”

“of course, now just sway to the music, i’ll guide you.”

“this feels really easy.”

“well yeah we’re just swaying right now.” he giggles.

“oh, yeah.” you reply.

“sucks that you guys’ air conditioning broke.” you say.

“yeah but i can’t be too mad.”

“why?”

“because if it wasn’t broken i wouldn’t be here right now.”

“i guess you’re right” you giggle. you stood in silence with gaze locked just enchanted by his deep blue eyes.

“now i’m gonna pull you in,” he says pulling you closer.

“now let go and turn sideways.” he says and you step back, keeping one hand in his.

“now spin back in.” he says and you do so. naturally dipping on one leg backwards, his grasp on you very strong and holding you up effortlessly. he helps you up quickly and you smile before he pulls you in again, this time for a sweet kiss. at first you were caught off guard but you quickly melted into the rhythm. his hands finding their way to your cheeks, yours on the back of his biceps, the kiss growing in passion by the second. by the time he pulled away you frowned. you didn’t want him to pull away.

“see not so bad? you’re a natural.” he says grabbing onto your hands, interlocking your fingers with his.

“well i had a good teacher.” you giggle.

“i hope it was okay that i kissed you. it felt like the right moment. i’ve been waiting all night if im honest.”

“it was more than okay, it was perfect. i’ve had googly eyes for you all night.” you giggle.

“good.” he smiles sweetly pulling you in for a hug, his chin resting on top of your head.

“will you sleep in here with me tonight?” you ask hesitantly.

“yeah.” he replies quickly, his embrace growing tighter for a moment before letting go.

“so i guess that headband can be yours for the long term…. maybe.” you say, nervousness lining your tone.

“i’d be so honored.” he giggles, tackling you onto your bed in a hug.

“i’m really happy you’re here nick.” you say as the both of you lay on your stomachs leaned up on your elbows.

“me too y/n.” he says as you lean in to peck his lips once again.

“oh i’m gonna sleep so good tonight.” he says tucking himself under the covers with you.

“oh definitely, especially with working ac.”

“well i was mostly referring to getting to fall asleep knowing im waking up next to you, but that’s nice too.”

“stop.” you smack his arm as you blush intensely.

“no i’m serious y/n. you’re so beautiful.” you replied as you get cozy as well.

“can we cuddle?” you ask in response and he laughs.

“yes we can, come here you gorgeous teddy bear.” he says, pulling you by your waist to his warm bare chest.

“sleep well.” you mumble in his chest, leaving him a sweet kiss on the collar bone.

“goodnight.” he replies, kissing the top of your head.

[pt2change]

new beginnings — jeon jungkook

[gif source]

pairing: biker!jungkook x bartender!yn

genre: typical ‘let’s kiss at midnight on new years’ au, except they’re complete strangers, fluff, i think that pretty much sums it up

word count: 1,381

↣ bts masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

the weekends were always a hard shift

everyone would go out and get extremely wasted

and yeah, your job didn’t make it easy to tolerate with drunk assholes, but you didn’t mind, in fact, you sometimes found it funny

you opened the door to the bar you worked at and walked straight in, going to the small space in the back where staff would go before opening

you quickly walked over to the small locker you were assigned to when you first started

you took your jacket off and began to put all your belongings inside, grabbing your name tag and clipping it onto your shirt

it always surprised you how many people would show up to a bar on new year’s eve, making it the busiest day of the year aside from christmas.

it’s typically couples that come in to have a drink and share a kiss at midnight or multiple groups of friends would come in to party

“you’re spending new years the same way i am?” your middle aged co-worker, sarah, asked you

“oh yeah, sitting around and watching movies.” you chuckled, putting on the apron that started at your hips and ends at mid thigh

you used to hate wearing it, but all the staff members do, so you don’t mind it that much anymore

sarah laughed, she walked out from the back, and began playing music from the jukebox that sat in the bar.

you sighed as the music began to play throughout the small building

it did help calm you down and prepare you for the long night ahead

you walked to the front doors of the bar and unlocked the doors, you also grabbed a blackboard sign with prices and details about drinks, and placed it outside

you looked up to see the christmas lights that hung around the building, and all other light from different buildings too

you smiled to yourself as you watch the snow fall from the sky, settling softly into the ground

this was your favorite time of year

you walked back into the bar, looking at sarah, who was wearing glittery glasses that read ‘happy new year’

“i’m not wearing that.” you shook your head and chuckled, making your way behind the bar

sarah smiled at you, “i know. so i got you this instead-“ and pulled out a simple black and gold headband that read ‘2024’ and places it on your head

you nodded your head, walked over to the jukebox and turned up the volume

you started getting to work as the bar slowly began filling up with people

it was almost completely full, and you and sarah rushed around, getting drinks to everyone that asked for one, it was just you two working the bar, but you wouldn’t have it any other way

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"god, it's freezing…" a man said as he rubbed his two hands together, blowing into them for heat, his feet trailing through the snow

every single bar he passed, the music was blasting out of them and they all seemed full and warm

he walked by and spotted one in the corner of the street, it looked inviting

i mean, he didn't even care if he was by himself, he just needed a drink

he walked into the bar, mazing through the groups of people

he sat down on a stool at the bar, looking at the two girls working behind it, this was definitely one of the busiest bars in the city

"what can i get for you?" sarah smiled, leaning over the bar and smiling to him.

"a shot of whiskey.." he smiled to her politely, handing her the money

"coming right up." sarah smiled, taking the money and putting it in her apron for the time being

"there you go…" she said placing the glass down, "have a nice night." she smiled, moving over to attend to another customer

jungkook was rarely in bars because he enjoyed the comfort of drinking inside his home

but he felt he needed some cheering up, and that’s why he ended up stopping at the small bar on his way back home

he was spending another new years alone. sure, he’s had his fair share of relationships, but he just couldn’t stay committed.

this time of year was filled with couples kissing left and right, which only made him realize how lonely he was.

“is something wrong with your drink?” you asked him, wanting to make sure all your customers were satisfied.

jungkook looked up, and paused when he looked at the person in front of him

your eyes innocently staring back at his, your cute smile was doing something to him

you were perfect.

“n-no it’s fine” jungkook smiled at you.

“are you sure? i can get you something else if you’d like.” you looked at him, gesturing to the variety of drinks behind you.

“if you insist,” he chuckles, “can i just get a glass of beer?” he smiled at you.

“yes sir” you smiled at him, grabbing a new glass to pour the beer in. after pouring it, you walked over to him and placed it neatly in front of him

you leave the glass of whiskey too, in case he decides to drink it after all

“thank you.”

“so are you here alone?” you leaned over the bar just a little bit

“yeah..” jungkook nodded, grabbing the glass in his hands.

“okay so let me guess,” you started, “you’re children are driving you insane, so you told your wife you needed to buy something last minute, but in reality you just came here? or new years makes you feel a bit lonely and you came here to see if it would cheer you up?”

jungkook chuckled, “the second one sounds about right.”

“i thought so.. i guess that makes two of us” you said, letting a small laugh escape from you. “enjoy your beer.” you smiled at him before walking away, and began taking orders from other customers

he watched as you walked away, he’d never seen someone more beautiful

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a few hours had passed, and there was 5 minutes left until it was officially new year’s day

you had been exchanging smiles with the same man at the bar, switching from his beer (and whiskey that he did in fact drink) to something non alcoholic, getting smirks from him

you weren’t usually this comfortable with men that came to the bar, or ones that looked at you and tried to make conversation

maybe it was because he was almost completely sober and wasn’t trying to get into your pants

or maybe he was…

either way, you didn’t mind him staring at you.

you and sarah finally took a break from serving drinks and got yourselves one, as everyone started to countdown from the last minute until new year’s day

you walked over towards jungkook and leaned over the bar.

"you know, in a few seconds, most of the people in this room are going to be kissing and hugging…" you smiled to him

“oh? are they?” he raised his eyebrows

”yeah,” you nodded, “and just so we don’t look so lonely…” you smiled as you watched the clock strike midnight.

jungkook watched as you placed your lips against his, and he kissed back softly just enough so you both could enjoy it

jungkook was surprised you had just come up and kissed him, but he wasn’t complaining

you pulled away from him, “happy new years.” you smiled

and you slowly walked away, going back to serving other customers

jungkook’s eyes didn't leave you for the rest of the night

until, at 2am, he finally decided he should go home

you had turned around to face him again and realized that he had already left the bar, leaving his empty glass with a piece of paper stuck to the bottom of it

you walked over and picked it up, taking the paper which had a phone number and name, jungkook, on it

you smiled to yourself and put the paper in your jean pocket, walking over to the dish washer and placing the empty glass in it.

"oh, someone looks happy" sarah nudged you, pulling the lever down and pouring a glass of beer

"well… it is new years" you smiled

[ktsumu]

RESOLUTIONS (this year is different) tw: alcohol consumption

This year, you wait for January in an apartment that is packed full.

You’re familiar with everyone, for the most part, all people who have played with Ushijima over the years, all people you’ve watched in one jersey or another. Everyone is laughing, happy — even Wakatoshi himself who, normally quite reserved, laughs with one of his teammates, a glass half-full in hand.

This year is different, you tell yourself. 

You know that, whenever you're all drunk enough to call it a night, you’ll call a cab and go home, probably kiss on the way there. He’ll lean on the bathroom counter and giggle while you smear your makeup away with a wipe, then take it from you and do it himself. He’ll be so much worse at it, but he’ll be gentle, and you’ll let him.

This year, you’re going to let yourself be loved. You’re excited to let him.

You watch Wakatoshi from your place on the couch, a small smile on your face. Happy looks good on him; he’s handsome when he’s free. His smile gives him lines around his mouth, his eyes crinkle. His laugh is saccharine. 

He doesn’t notice you’re watching, either, it’s not often he does. It’s not hard to be subtle — your eyes typically find him, anyway, golden boy wherever he goes.

This year, I’m going to let myself be loved.

You met him years ago, sort of in a situation like this. You were both in a bar in Tokyo, you think, and he stuck out like a sore thumb; freshly twenty and new to this, surrounded by teammates who made it obvious he’s never been to a bar before.

They also made it obvious he was new to a lot of things, likely why they made it so obvious in how they were jabbing his side with their elbows, nodding to you sat a few seats down. Go talk to her, she’s totally into you, she’s pretty!

(He didn’t even talk when he first sat down — you offered him a shot he probably needed and he took it.)

The rest is history.

It feels weird to think about going home. Home. You live with him, the bills get paid. He has smile lines and stretch marks on his shoulders. He’s going to take your makeup off for you because he’s seen you in every way you come. You have a house and you have a home — your friend said she thinks he might propose this year.

Growing pains are scarier when they’re not in your knees.

You only notice he’s moved when the couch sinks beside you. Wakatoshi sits next to you, a close-lipped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he rests a hand on your thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s just the two of you.

You look over his face, his flushed cheeks. You smile, too. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Wakatoshi is gentle when he guides you towards him, his hand on your nape, kissing you like you’ve never done it before. He tastes like Tennessee, and like a resolution. 

This year, I’m going to kiss him more.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Whatever dread you carried before, it’s going away now.

“You are?” you tease, pulling back to really look at him. An anonymous hand walks by and ruffles his hair, like he’s scoring his first girl, and carries on. He doesn’t look up. 

“Very.”

“Mm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m glad I’m here with you, too.”

“I mean, I would hope so.”

“Hah,” you snort, “I’m excited to go home, too.”

He scoffs, as if he isn’t typically the reserved one; as if he wasn’t the one you had to convince to make a show here. “You want to get out so soon?”

“What, you’re not excited to deal with me at home?” you giggle, craning your head to look up at him. “Not excited to spend, like, a fat hour getting ready for bed?”

He snickers again, taking a sip of his drink. He squints like he drank it too quickly. 

“Like last year?”

“Yup. Except, I don’t know about the last part. I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress, ‘Toshi.”

“That’s okay, I’ll tuck you in.”

Your chest warms, and you both laugh. One of you starts it, but you don’t remember who.

“You’re gonna tuck me in and take my makeup off, huh?”

“Like last year,” he confirms. “And get you water — get us both water,”

“Mm, you’ll need it, big guy.”

“I am fine.”

“Yeah, I know. As long as you can see where my face is, that’s good enough for me.”

“I can find it blind,” he says simply, smoothing your hair back and out of your face. “But yes, I can see it fine.”

You smile all crooked — he tilts his head like he wants to see it upright. 

“We’re gettin' older, huh ‘Toshi?”

“That is how years work, yes.”

“Going home,” you say; your thoughts are all out loud. “Going to bed.”

He smiles — he loves it. “Unless you want to stay out?”

“No, no, I want to. I’m just,” you take a deep breath, “thinking. This’ll be how many years?”

“Not enough,” he says simply. “I wanna do this forever.”

“Hah, well, I have no doubt your body could sustain years of New Years Eve parties—”

“I meant going home,” he interrupts. “Taking off your makeup, getting you water, and kissing you goodnight.”

Your heart swells to the point of being uncomfortable, the lump in your throat impossibly there. His hand hasn’t left your thigh, it hasn’t risen higher, it just sits there. His touch is warm like a swaddle, unmoving. It’s so familiar that you lean into it like you're being carried to bed.

Wakatoshi grins; it’s crooked and you tilt your head to see it upright. “Every year, I think I love you a little more.”

(The dread you had is gone now — why you ever had it, you don’t know for sure.)

This year is different, you tell yourself. This year, you’re gonna grow.

There’s a cheer throughout the room, all this laughter becoming a dull muffle when the room seems to reach the sound capacity the little space has. There’s kazoos, glass clinking, goofy hats falling to the floor — people are singing:

“Happy new year, love,” he murmurs, and he captures your lips again.

This year, I’m gonna grow.

I’m gonna let him love it, and maybe I’ll love it, too. 

[romiantic]

DATING EARTH 42!MILES

→ READING: black!fem!reader

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff

→ A/N: earth 42 is prowler miles btw. it’s okay I be getting confused too 🚶🏽‍♀️

— dating this boy would give grumpy x sunshine, or even black cat x golden retriever. though, it does depend on who you are and your personality. I would say miles has a type but doesn’t at the same time, like he isn’t picky with who he date but he definitely has some standards and they’re high

— I would say miles gravitates towards girls who give him a home type of feeling, reminds him of his mother, or even gives him a great sense of nurture. yes rio is in his life but nurture is greatly important to miles so please show him love him as much as you can

— he refuses to believe but miles was the one that fell for you first, like a love at first sight type of thing. his heart achingly tugged at you after seeing the way you carry yourself, how you treat others, and the way you were so kind and open to him. he was lovestruck and didn’t know what to do, his stone cold presence would melt immediately when you waved at him

— at the time of the crush, he kept going to his mom and uncle for advice, especially his mom. they both gave some good advice each time but always reminded him to follow his heart (corny I know but if word okay). following his heart lead to him asking you to homecoming, then a date to a nearby art show, to asking you to be his girl on new years eve, and now he’s calling your phone to remind you how beautiful and precious you are <3333

— his family is y’all biggest fan (mainly rio), when he brings you to his home, his uncle is always joking about a future wedding. rio adores the way you treat her son and always invites you to a girl’s day out when she’s not busy

— a typical day for you and miles would be a walk around the city, watching y’all favorite show, or playing music and just chillin. miles doesn’t mind going out but it’s not often, too much of a homebody. when he is in the mood to go out, it’s not often a party, usually the movies or the boardwalk that he prefers

— miles will join you on a quick trip to the beauty supply store or the corner store, even if it’s for one item. yes, he is paying for it, no questions asked

— if you too are bored enough, you guys will make tiktoks and I mean a lot of tiktoks. most of them are drafts but you do post some of them and they always do numbers. what can I say? the internet loves y’all <3

— y’all know that sound, “and my man? thank you to my man!” ? that’s y’all FR! every time y’all go out and he pays for you, you’re singing that or posting on your tiktok of buying you stuff with that sound cause thank you milesssss <333

— this boy can be quite stubborn, not gonna lie. he’s willing to put up a fight, especially if he’s in a sour mood and he’ll make it five times worse if you call him “sassy”. miles being sassy? oh he’ll show you sassy, don’t be mad when he starts throwing your sayings back at you or sub dissing with songs on his story (pls him and brent faiyaz can move on somewhere)

— miles doesn’t mind you playing with his hair, it’s his favorite pastime with you actually! the soft voices of rnb singers playing through his tv while you play with curls, slowly turning them with your fingers and watching them bounce back to its original state

— he absolutely loves loves loves when you unbraid his hair and give him a nice scalp massage, it put his whole body into a state of release. your fingers rubbing his thick curls with castor oil brings him comfort and loosens up the tenseness that he holds on a daily

— firm believer that miles will treat you like a princess! he believes that his girl is a princess and deserves princess treatment only. he will take you out to eat (and pay for it), spoil you with small gifts, shower you with compliments, the whole nine yards. anything to bring a smile to his pretty girl’s face, he will consistently do it. your contact name on his phone is “hermosa princesa 💞”, please this boy loves his pretty princess

— miles is more of a facetimer/caller than texter. yes texting is more convenient for the both of you but he can’t help when his heartstrings are pulled at the sight of your pretty face on his phone. he won’t admit but miles gets very excited when you call him first, even if it’s to remind him that you love him

— after your hair or nail appointment, he is immediately calling to see the end results. he do not care if it’s a simple set of box braids or french tips, if miles think you look good, you look GOOD. but if you don’t like the way your nails or hair looks, he will speak up to the person who did it and ask them to fix it for you

— his lockscreen is a picture of you on y’all first date, when you took pictures on his phone while he was using the bathroom. that day was so nerve wracking for both of you but ended up being so much fun, leading to a second date, third date, etc

— for shits and giggles, he’ll throw around Spanish words that you won’t know, especially if y’all are arguing. he enjoys the confused look you give when he says something in Spanish, raising his ego up real bad. speaking of, don’t argue with this boy if you can’t match his energy. when I tell you his pettiness is bad, oh it is BAD and he won’t back down either

⭑ wow…writing for earth 42 miles was easier than I thought-

⭑ I truly believe this lil boy is so down for y/n, he might be worse than 1610!miles but can easily hide it

⭑ lemme know if y’all want a part 2 cause I highkey have way more hcs for both miles

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: Psalm 139:13-14

SPIDERMAN: ATSV MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗉𝗇𝗄𝗐𝖾𝖻. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾���

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Two.

Thank you so much to all those who offered commentary, reviews and reblogs on the first chapter, beautiful ones! Now that I have the mamoth story of BTBT out of the way, I can pretty much post each chapter of this as soon as the previous one hits 40 notes to unlock, and they’re nice, short reads too, so people aren’t likely to fall behind. If you do require a break, though, just let me know. If not, if you want it, you got it! Your author aims to make her audience happy :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One

Taglist - In the comments

Words - 2,225 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“So, you’re a rare breed of woman, honestly being so into football. Any other sports out there you like?” Manny asked her, his timing a little off, Hannah taking a gigantic bite out of her burger.

“UFC,” she muffled through a mouthful of cheddar laden beef, ending up with a smear of barbecue sauce at the corner of her lip. He reached forward, wiping it away with his thumb, bringing it to his lips and sucking. It was a tiny action, but god, it made her pulse quicken. “I watch all of it, but I have such an affinity for the female fighters. I might not take crap easily – well, Michael aside, I guess – but those girls? They’re next level tough. I went up to Vegas to watch a match recently, Jennifer Cora versus Lily Romero-Reyes. Shit, Jennifer got her ass handed to her!”

“Yeah, I was there, too. I know Lily, actually. She’s married to one of the guys in my club, and the daughter of another,” he spoke, Hannah swallowing her mouthful of food with widened eyes.

“Get the fuck out of here! Oh my god, that’s awesome! What’s she like? She seems scary as hell!” she cried, picking up a fry and popping it into her mouth. “Actually, now you come to mention it, I’ve seen her being walked out by MC guys, but I didn’t put two and two together!”

“She’s scary in the octagon, but outside of it, she’s the sweetest girl. She and Angel, that’s her husband, by the way, they’re two of my favourite people, and their baby is adorable. She got all of us wrapped around her teeny tiny lil’ pinky finger,” he smiled, thinking of Willow, who he had a definite soft spot for, loving kids as much as he did.  

She finished her mouthful, sipping her drink before nodding in his direction, reaching to tap the patch upon his kutte. “By all of us, I take it you mean the guys in your MC, right?” He nodded through a mouthful of burger. “So, what’s that all about, then? I hear so many differing stories about you guys. Some say you’re all criminals up to your asses in illegal activities, and some say you’re merely a group of motorcycle enthusiasts who happen to run the only scrap metal yard in Santo Padre.”  

He contemplated his options, knowing that she wasn’t stupid, but then again, neither was he. “We sit somewhere between the two.”

“The straight and narrow more of a winding road littered with potholes and razor wire?”

He cocked his head, rolling his tongue around his inner cheek to retrieve a stray piece of tomato. “You got it, darlin’.” It was nice, that she didn’t quiz him over it. She knew what he was, and was smart enough to know that despite her question, he wasn’t going to embellish further any more than she was about to sit and pick for more details, of which she didn’t. “So, what about you, Hannah banana? What do you do to keep yourself in expensive looking shoes?” His eyes cast down to where her legs her crossed, the pointed toe of her stiletto brushing his calf every so often. He knew pricey when he saw it.  

“Bookkeeper. I work freelance from home as opposed to just for one firm. I do smaller businesses, like bars, salons, boutiques, restaurants, places like that. I’m cheaper than keeping someone on staff to do it, but I charge enough that I can indulge my fetish with nice shoes such as these,” she replied, waving her foot in a way that made her legs muscles flex from where she’d hitched her dress up a little, trying to get some air from one of the jaunty old upright fans over in the corner onto them. A fully lined lace bridal gown wasn’t the coolest of items to wear within an establishment with no air conditioning, a sign upon the bar apologising for the fact it was broken. In July of all months.  

“And what do you do to keep those stems looking as mouth-watering as they do?” he then asked, sipping his beer with a wink. Oh, she could get used to this. A man who was complimentary of her. Boy, how she’d missed that.  

“Apart from the ballet, I run, do a little pilates and yoga, too. That’s about as much as I like to put myself through, since my natural happy state involves sitting on my ass.” Grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar, she began to fan herself, finding the heat a little much. “If you’ll excuse me for just a few moments, I’m going to head to the bathroom, and then go up to the small store I saw further on up in the row. I noticed clothes in the window, and I desperately need to get out of this gown!”

“N’aww, shit. And I thought it’d be me getting you out of that dress.” He winked at her, Hannah shaking her head as she slid from the stool, resting her hand to his arm. It was surprisingly firm, his muscles not big, but certainly well formed.  

“You’re bad.”

His grin widened. “But you like it.”

Her eyebrows twitched, licking her top lip in a way that made his insides pulse. “Never said I didn’t.” She left him then, heading to the restroom first before exiting, attracting looks from people parking up along the narrow street, to see her there, resplendent in her wedding gown. That was another reason for wanting to change, since a few more people entering the bar had offered their congratulations.  

In truth, it was starting to eat at her a little bit. Hannah Gray was the furthest thing from a bad-mannered person, and no matter how poorly Michael had treated her in the past, she knew he didn’t deserve to be jilted quite so unceremoniously. Her fear of being alone truly wasn’t enough to justify her actions that morning, but if she knew one thing about herself, it was how impulsive she could be.  

Entering the store, she drew stares from all around, people whispering in hushed tones as she walked to one of the racks and shuffled through the items, finding something perfect and in her size more or less right away. A simple, and very short, black wrap dress. On the next rack, something else she needed, since the slight sheer quality of the fabric would mean her oyster silk bridal lingerie would show right through; black underwear.  

Her outfit choice, she couldn’t one hundred percent say wasn’t borne of wanting to maybe get a little more attention from Manny, crazy as it was that she was even thinking about a dalliance with another man on the day of her would-be wedding. Paying for the items (plus a new crossbody bag with chain straps she decided to treat herself to, she asked to use their changing room, the woman behind the counter offering her a big, sturdy bag to stow her dress in, which she thanked her for before going to change.  

The dress fitted her well, if not a tiny bit risqué in so much that it barely covered her butt cheeks. Hell, she had nice legs. It could be worse. She could be Michael’s wife. As it was, she’d had a lucky escape, on the back of the Harley belonging to the outlaw whose eyes almost fell out onto the bar floor when she walked back in.  

“Yup,” he almost growled, “those are some fuckin’ quality stems.” Oh, what he wouldn’t give to feel those beautiful legs wrapped around him.  

“Why thank you, sir.” She inclined her head to him, jumping back up onto the stool and finishing her drink, Manny immediately ordering her another, turning to see her suddenly wince, reaching to rub at her ankle. “Cramp.”  

He jerked his head back, making a wiggling motion with his hand. “Gimmie your foot, I’m good for this shit. Healing hands, so I’ve been told.” She hesitated only for a second before gently toeing her shoe off and lifting her leg, Manny grasping her foot and resting it a mere inch from his crotch, fingers beginning to softly squeeze her upper ankle. “There?”

“Yeah,” she hissed, the pain shooting up her calf, the muscle tensing. “Thank you.”  

He winked, only pausing briefly to pay the bartender before returning both hands to her leg, squeezing warmth through the taut muscle. Just his hands on her leg, and Hannah felt her skin tingle pleasantly, the action seemingly quite innocent, but definitely charged just beneath the surface. Even more so that she could feel the heat of his crotch against the sole of her foot, knowing that one little move would end up with her brushing against his cock.  

Just the thought of that made her bite her lip, Manny catching her do it, his hands travelling a little higher as he kept eye contact with her. “How’d those hands feel, beautiful?”

“Absolutely perfect. I might have to get your number so I can call you up to do this for me again at any point in the future where cramp easing is required,” she spoke, her voice a little thick, slow like honey for just how good his fingers rubbing over her felt.

He snorted softly, purposefully letting his fingertips drag in tickle over her leg before squeezing once more, easing the cramp away. “If I’m giving you my digits, it’s for more than to come rub out a cramp.”

“I’m sure I could think of a few more places.” His eyes didn’t leave hers as she pulled her leg from his grasp, Manny sliding from his stool, fingers gently resting to her knees as he manoeuvred himself between her thighs.  

He let his lips touch against her ear, his voice steeped in gravel when he finally spoke. “Now who’s bad?” Leaning back, he winked, excusing himself, heading for the restrooms and leaving her so scorching, she was surprised she didn’t pass out from the heat that had begun to blaze between them. This man? He had game in shades, and he knew it, but he wasn’t arrogant with it, not at all. Manny was the exact opposite of Michael, who had never really come back down to earth after his glory days as the most adored high school jock.  

Speaking of jocks, there was a pile of them working their way into the bar loudly just as Manny was returning from the restroom, one not watching where he was going, bumping into a woman carrying a glass of wine back to her table, the glass knocked from her hand and shattering on the floor. The young guy didn’t even acknowledge his fault.  

“Hey yo, you in the yellow shirt!” Manny called, his cadence suddenly filling the bar like a foghorn, yet his voice was barely raised. “You gonna apologise to the lady? You just knocked her glass clean out of her hand, man.”  

He shrugged, turning back. “It was an accident; I didn’t mean it.”

“Be that as it may, it was an accident you caused. Be a fucking gentleman and apologise.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “I don’t need a moral lecture from some scummy biker! Get the fuck out of here.”  

“Seems you do, homie. I said apologise.” Manny suddenly straightened, making himself look much broader than his slight frame alluded to, the guy laughing before balling his fist, his arm shooting out. The punch aimed never made contact, though, Manny grabbing his wrist and squeezing. “Nah, son. I’m gon’ give you this time to reconsider your actions here, save you missing any teeth, because if I swing at you, trust and believe, yo’ bitch ass is going down hard, and those aforementioned teeth are gonna be all over the damned floor. All you gotta do is say you’re sorry.”

Hannah sat rigid in her seat, watching it all unfold, her nerves tingling with excitement at how coolly Manny handled himself, not even raising his voice once.  

The guy considered his options, trying to yank himself free of the iron grip around his wrist. It did not yield, Manny yanking him closer with ease, placing his other hand atop his head and physically turning it in the direction of the woman who was standing there speechless. “Apologise. Now.” His whisper was delivered in a serpent like hiss, the guy gulping.  

“I’m sorry.”  

“Finally,” Manny chirped, letting him go. “Next time, don’t let it be the threat of a better man than you to make you do the right thing, bro.” The man walked away, looking sheepish, Manny sniffing casually before turning to the woman with a megawatt smile. “Chardonnay? You look like a chardonnay girl.”

“Yes, but really, you’ve done enough! Thank you!” she gushed, Manny waving her words away and heading to the bar, where he bought her and her friend a bottle, placing it along with a fresh glass upon their table. “You ladies enjoy.” He winked, the women bowled over by his manner, Hannah smiling softly. He didn’t have to do that, he had absolutely no reason to than out of being a decent human, and it only made her feel pulled into his orbit further.  

Chivalry. Big dick energy. She’d begun to forget what they looked like.  

[saintedcooper]

Francis (Frank Castle x Reader AU)

New York, 1949. You’re a waitress trying to find your place in the world and get your footing at your new job. That is, when you’re not being very distracted by the handsome, mysterious writer who frequents the diner.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Content: Some language

Length: 2,761 words

Notes: Age is not explicitly stated but reader is grown, she’s in her mid-30s. She’s something of an anomaly at the time, being unmarried.

Additional notes at the end.

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

Chapter 1: Beginnings

“You like the quiet?”

It’s a foggy New York afternoon and Maurice, the diner owner is busy delivering plates and taking orders. His white shirt is damp and clinging to his thick form as he hurries as fast as his stocky legs will take him.

I hurry to keep up with him as he darts to a table in the corner with an arm full of plates.

I definitely overdressed for the interview. I’m wearing a long burgundy coat dress, white tights, and a pair of pumps borrowed from my new roommate. The air in the joint is thick and sticky. I swear my curls are falling by the minute.

“Can’t remember. I’m the eldest of six kids. I haven’t known quiet since my oldest brother came home from the hospital.”

Maurice finishes putting the plates on the table and throws down extra napkins.

He dramatically bows at the table and pulls at an imaginary bow tie.

“Bone appy-tite,” he says before turning on his heels and rushing back behind the counter.

“Great, kid. I need you on the sad shift.”

Maurice makes his way to the coffee pot and groans, it’s nearly empty. He looks around, seeming to miss something.

I spot an extra coffee pot behind the counter and shrug. I’ve clearly already got the job. I pull my gloves off and brush past the still-searching Maurice.

“Sorry, the what?”

I set about making a fresh pot of mud. Maurice looks impressed.

“The sad shift, you know. Drifters, widowers, divorcees.”

He makes a dismissive gesture, “Weird writers. People that ain’t got nowhere to go even after midnight. You’d work the 8-5. Kitchen closes at 2ish. You’re basically just fillin’ coffee cups for the last part.

“They won’t give you no trouble and the tips are great. Real easy goin’ bunch, it’s just the girl who was on that shift got herself in the family way and well, here we are.”

The coffee’s finished brewing and I take the pot to start refilling cups.

“Sounds good,” I tell Maurice over my shoulder.

“Great! You start tonight. Go home and get some sleep.”

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

It didn’t take long to realize Maurice was right: the late shift is quiet.

I started that night I got the job and got the hang of it pretty quickly. It wasn’t long before I knew everyone who’d come through on a typical night.

Over the past few months, we’ve settled into a nice rhythm.

It’s intimate being with people in the hours between night and day. They open up to me, they tell me about their struggles, and I get to listen.

Tonight, the patrons are spaced out between the bar and corner booths, like normal. Each of them smoking so much that there’s a persistent thick cloud above the joint. I sometimes felt like the only person in the world who won’t touch the stuff, but working here now I’m not sure it matters anyway.

I’m standing behind the counter, hip cocked and head resting in my head, looking out at the city.

The diner’s filled with the usual suspects. All except one.

I spin my watch around to look at the time.

He’s usually not this late.

I know, I shouldn’t have favorite customers. They’re all great, they tip well, and they’re nice.

But there’s this one guy, a writer. I noticed him early on.

Name’s Francis.

He comes in damn near every night and is impossible to miss. He’s gorgeous, well-dressed, and polite. And he always smells like a pine forest after it rains.

He’s nice to look at and good to talk to but we’ve always left it there. He mostly stayed to himself during my first few weeks here.

Then, on my way to work one day, I walked out of the train station and into a freak storm. It started hailing out of nowhere, loud and cold and I was absolutely not dressed for it. I threw my bag over my head and started running the last blocks to the diner.

But my pump caught a big piece of hail just wrong and I rolled my ankle.

Next thing I know, I hear this familiar deep voice behind me say, “You alright, sweetheart?”

I turned to find Francis holding his hand out to me. I took it and winced as I tried to get up to my feet.

It hurt, I leaned to one side as I stood there.

“Ah, think I tweaked it.”

I bent to rub a hand over my ankle and found it slightly swollen.

“You headin’ to work?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But walkin’ there’ll make it worse and so will walkin’ home and—”

Francis hefted me over his shoulder like it was nothing and my whole body heated up. I covered my face with my bag.

“Oh, goodness! Francis, really. I can walk. Slowly, but I can do it.”

"Nah, sweetheart. Can’t have you makin’ it worse. It’s no trouble.”

No trouble for him, maybe, but terrible for my attempts to stave off a full-blown fascination with the guy.

He carried me four blocks to the diner.

I was so mortified I started asking him questions to distract myself from the embarrassment.

I learned that he was a writer. He wrote a lot of pulp but he was working on a novel, had been for three years. He mentioned his wife using her job as a secretary for a construction company to bring him story ideas.

“She was no damn good at it,” he said with a laugh. “She said one day, ‘Vinnie threatened to break a guy’s knees today and it made me wonder if you could write something about how knees can feel fear.’ Just completely missing the point every time.”

I laughed along with him.

“Was? You two break up?”

Francis didn’t respond for nearly a block.

When we reached the diner he said, “’s complicated, sweetheart. Let’s get some ice on that ankle.”

That was months ago and since then we’ve pretty much settled into our routine. I only think about him throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes once, maybe twice an hour.

Everything’s normal.

Tonight I managed to get the cook, Tom, to keep the kitchen open a bit longer for Francis but his patience is wearing thin.

There’s steam coming through the serving window as Tom pours boiling water over the utensils, preparing to close the kitchen for the night.

“Sorry, toots,” he says with a grin. “Your boyfriend ain’t comin’ tonight and I’ve got shit to do.”

He shrugs and turns away.

I pick at the varnish on my nails and give a dramatic roll of my eyes. “He ain’t my boyfriend, Tommy, and you know it. He’s just a nice payin’ customer who gives great tips. You know I’ve gotta go see my sister soon ‘fore she pops that kid out.”

Tom's throaty laugh rings through the diner and he appears in front of the serving window again.

“Hey, baby, no disrespect to her but I’d say the 5th time you shove one out we can stop with the fanfare, eh? I mean, sheesh, they startin’ a football team?”

I bite the inside of my cheek and stifle a giggle. She’s across the country but I swear to god, I laugh and she’ll know it.

“Be nice, she’s my sister.”

“Yeah well, you’re the one who got all the sense. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Tom throws his hands up, an empty, steaming pot dangling from one of them, and goes back to his cleaning.

He’s not wrong. They’ve been turning out babies like lovin’ was going out of style since he got back home from the war. One a year.

It’s what she wants and I’m happy for her. But it smarts a bit sometimes. I helped change her diapers but she beat me to everything a girl’s supposed to do. We couldn’t afford college when it was my turn but I worked my ass off to make sure she got to go to Bryn Mawr.

Then, just a few months after classes start, she goes on a day trip and catches the eye of some square-jawed, bronzed god fresh out of college. The next thing I know she’s banging on my door at 3am covered in rain shouting, “Bunny, you’ll never guess! We’re engaged! Don’t tell mama but Johnny has a lead on a job out west, we’re eloping! Don’t hate me?”

Then she kissed my cheek and dragged her damp ass out the door and into his big, stupid Packard.

They don’t refund tuition when your sister lands a god and drops out after 6 months, by the way.

Mama did always say she’s the worst little girl in all the world and—

The thudding clank of the bell on the door stops the spiral, the sharpness of it reverberating through the quiet space.

We all know who it is but every head turns to look. My breath catches in my throat.

Francis Castiglione steps through the door looking good enough to eat in his suit with a gray hat sitting low, shading his face. He nods to the familiar faces around the diner.

I stand up and smooth down my dress just as he catches my eye. His lips tug up into a little grin and he’s headed my way.

God, my throat feels like wool. I swallow and spin around to grab the coffee pot, a mug, and a saucer.

Francis glides into a seat at the counter.

“How you doin’ tonight, sweetheart?”

I throw a quick smile over my shoulder as I finish pouring his coffee.

“Real good, Francis. And you?”

He groans, low and deep.

The sound shocks a little gasp out of me and I pray he didn’t hear it.

“It’s uh…heh. It’s been a long night, doll.”

I grab a stirring spoon and head to the counter with his coffee. He’s taken off his hat and the harsh light he’s sitting under illuminates a face full of angry-looking scratches.

I forget all about the coffee, gasping and throwing a hand over my mouth. Coffee spills out of the over-filled up and drips down the cup and saucer, some spilling onto the floor.

“Francis! My goodness, what happened?”

Francis reaches out with swift reflexes to grab the tipping coffee from my hands. He places the saucer and mug on the counter and licks his coffee-wet fingers.

For a moment, I forget all about his scratched-up face, eyes focused on the peek of his tongue darting out to lick the coffee now running down his hands.

I’m gawking at him like a schoolgirl and of course, I’m caught. He holds my gaze while he slowly licks up the side of his hand. He smirks at the top.

“Don’t worry bout it, sweetheart. It’s no big deal.”

My cheeks flush and I nod.

“Right, sorry. I just— it’s hard to not be distracted by you.”

I make a flailing gesture with my hands.

“And then the coffee and you — how you got it up and. I lost myself, I apologize, it won’t happen again.”

Francis does his best to hide his laughter behind his hand.

What’s he laughing at?

The deep frown on my face makes him lose it. He throws his head back and howls with laughter.

“Hey! What’s so funny?”

He tilts his head back to me, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. I meant this,” he gestures at his face. “You asked and I’m saying it was nothin’. Not talkin’ about you oglin’ me.”

Oh, good lord. My face heats up like a Looney Tunes character who just guzzled a pot of boiling water.

Francis is a gentleman, though, now doing his best to stifle his laughter and save me the embarrassment.

I hide my face behind one of the bar towels.

“Oh, Francis, I’m so embarrassed.”

He waves a hand at me.

“Ah, don’t be. I’m only teasin’. It’s nice that you were worried about me.”

He takes a sip of what’s left of his coffee, looking at me over the cup.

“’sides, it’s good to know I’m distractin’.”

My face is still warm but I’m trying to calm down. I use the towel to pick up the coffee spilled on the counter and floor.

“Well, I am concerned. What the hell happened to you?”

“Eh, just uh, wrong place, wrong time. But you should see the other guy.” He waggles his eyebrows and it gets a laugh out of me.

“Honestly, who gets into fisticuffs with a writer?”

”Sheesh, you ain’t never read much Hemingway, huh darlin’? We writers are a scrappy bunch.”

He downs the rest of his coffee.

“It’s all the insecurity.”

I walk down to the small sink behind the counter and wash out the towel.

“Well still, I don’t like it. How did it happen?”

Francis waves a hand and shrugs. “Nah, doesn’t matter much. Tell me about you. You still savin’ up to go see Jeannie?”

I scoff.

“Yeah.”

I take the rest of the coffee pot around the diner, topping up the cups as I respond.

“But now I’m wondering why. It’s her fortieth kid for christ’s sake. She could teach a seminar on not keeping your legs closed.”

One of the regulars laughs as I finish my rounds and head back behind the counter.

“It’d be more impressive if she didn’t end up pregnant every year. Meanwhile, I’m here in the greatest city in the world staying in at night and on weekends to go see another one of her fat, sloppy babies? That jerk Johnny makes a fortune and I have to buy my own ticket on a sweaty bus for four days? It’s a goddamn shame!”

I slam the spent pot into the cradle of the machine.

“God! Fuck. her!!!”

I let out a scream. The patrons all politely appear enthralled by the wood grain on their tables.

“Hey, hey,” Francis leans across the counter to turn my shoulders around. He rubs at them in a gentling gesture. “Hey, it’s all good, whatever you want. You ain’t gotta explain nothin’ to no one, least of all any of us.”

I glance around at the nodding heads in the diner.

“You do what makes you happy.”

Francis rubs his hands down my arms, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“I don’t want to see her. She makes me feel awful.”

Francis nods, giving me big puppy dog eyes.

“Then don’t. S’your life, kid.”

He pats my shoulder and sits back down in his seat.

I slump over the counter and hide my head.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.”

“I work here, I’m supposed to be professional and —” my eyes widen…shit.

I pop my head into the serving window and Tom’s nowhere to be found. The counters and cooktops in the kitchen are pristine. He’s gone.

“Francis! I’m so sorry, I tried to have him wait for you but he said he had plans, and let's be honest, as long as he’s payin’ the plans would still be there even if he’s a few minutes late, and—”

“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” Francis calls for me to come back to the counter. “S’alright. Promise. Missin’ supper once is not gonna kill me. Might do wonders for this book I’m writin’, though. Really get me into the head of a starving artist, ya know? Maybe more people’ll buy it if I can make myself extra miserable in the process.”

“Oh, don’t say that.”

“I’m teasin’, darlin’. Don’t be so serious.”

I flush. There ought to be a law about how many times you can call a girl sweetheart or darling before she starts to get ideas.

He makes me feel like a girl again.

Francis fixes me with a stare. Neither of us breaks it as the seconds stretch on. He licks his lips and leans into me.

“C’mere, I wanna tell you somethin’.”

“What?”

He gestures for me. “Just c’mere.”

I lean in closer, the warmth of his breath rustling the delicate hairs of my ear.

He gets closer still and whispers, “I don’t come here for the food.”

I’m frozen and flushed while he grins his face off. He shakes his head and reaffixes his hat, pulling the brim down low again. He pats the counter and I realize he’s moving slower than normal as he heads to the door, favoring one side.

He gives me a final look across his shoulder.

“Night, sweetheart.”

The bell rings loudly through the space and then, quiet.

-----

Part 2

Let me know how you feel about this duo in the replies! Reblogs + asks welcome, too. How do you think reader will handle Frank's little declaration? Do you think she'll press him further on how he got injured?

I'd also love feedback about readability! Is it clear and easy to follow being in first person present?

If you're experienced as a beta or editor, feel free to drop me a line if you'd be interested in helping me edit future chapters.

[michaelasworlds-blog]

Sugar, Spice and Nothing Nice

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: The New Recruit

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ABUSE AND SA🚨

Hell, 1996

“Angel! Angel Dust! Over here!” Demon Reporters surrounded Angel Dust and Valentino as they made they’re way to the limo. “How does it feel winning another “ Sex-x-xi Award?!” One of the reporters pushed a mic in front of him.

“Pretty fuckin awesome!” Angel smirked. He honestly didn’t even care that HE won specifically, Angel just didn’t want Titfucker to win. Seeing her heated face always made his night.

“Valentino, are you planning anything new for next year?!” A female reporter looks up at a smiling Valentino.

“I always have new stuff coming out,” he smirks. “And I’m always looking for fresh faces, so if you wanna ever make some big money let me know,” he winked at her.

Angel rolled his eyes, he looked at Val then at the reporters and sea of fans. Noticing most of the attention off of him he slowly made his way to the limo, he was tired and really wanted to get away from the yelling and screaming; it was great for a while but it soon became just a bunch of noise. He tried to fake a smile and wave at the screaming crowd trying to reach for him, reaching the door of the limo he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned, seeing a short demon standing on the barricade staring at him, they had navy blue skin and wore a black hoodie, they smiled sweetly waving at him excitedly. Angel smiled back warmly waving back.

“Angel baby, let’s go,” Angel heard Val’s voice.

“I’m coming,” Angel said loudly. He slowly walked up the demon, they were getting more excited the closer he got.

“Hi!” They squealed, bouncing up and down. “I saw your videos, they’re cool!”

“Cool isn’t really the word that a fan would usually use to describe my work. Are you sure you’re watching the right stuff?” He raised an eyebrow at them.

“Okay, I’ve only seen one video, I believe it was called Cumming Home for Christmas?” The demon took off their hood revealing brown curly hair, with small horns coming out of the hair. Angel finally examined the rest of them realizing this was a girl.

“Ugh! That one was so old! What do you live under a rock?” He joked.

“No..a dumpster,” she says.

“Excuse me?” Angel looks at her dumbfounded.

“The one in the alley by the strip club.”

“Right, because there’s not a bunch of strip-“

“Angel!” Val yells cutting Angel off. “Let’s get a move on! Daddy is very lonely!” He smirks, sending a chill down Angel’s spine.

“Uh, have a good night I guess-“ Angel turns to leave but the girl grabs his hand.

“One day I wanna be as famous as you,” she smiles. Angel smiles before getting into the limo, sitting by the window opposite of Valentino, who is sitting next to two female demons.

“Ladies one at a time, no need to compete, we can make this a three way,” Val smiles, red liquid coming from his mouth. He looks over at Angel who’s looking out the window, Val pulls him over on his lap. “Or we can make an orgy,” he gives Angel a devious smile.

Angel sighs, he was so exhausted, Was the last thing he thought before red smoke was blown into his face clouding his vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hell, Present Day

Hundreds of demons yell and cheer at the stage watching Angel as he dances around, and on the stripper pole in the middle of stage.

“Yeah baby, show daddy every inch of that body” A male demon shouts, watching Angel climb then flip upside down with a seductive grin on his face.

Angel looks around at the crowd faking a smile, he doesn’t know if the smile is very convincing, it was so much easier to fake everything when he was high. He hadn’t done anything since the hotel reopened about a week ago, it was hard; REALLY hard. He felt in control yet at the same time out of control, when he felt out of control he could always count on Husk to bring him back..sometimes. Across the room in the VIP area sat Val, with two male demons on each side of him; his arm draped around them with a cigarette in one hand. He stared at the stage smirking at Angel, Valentino hadn’t really bothered him as much since the incident at the club; however he did make him work way longer, to the point where Angel fell asleep in his dressing room. Apparently it was to “inspire” the other actors to do better, complete and utter bullshit.

Angel finished his dance slowly going into a split, the demons in the crowd screamed and whistled. He walks off the stage grabbing his blazer, Angel was ready to go back to the hotel; or at least his dressing room. He just wanted to be with his fat nuggets.

“Ugh, I need a drink,”he mumbled, walking into the VIP area. He sat next on the couch near two female demons making out.

“Angel baby,” Valentino blew smoke in his direction, “Such a beautiful performance, you always know what to do to get the crowd going.”

Angel sits back on the couch sighing, “Well you know, it’s all for you Val,” he rolled his eyes going through his phone. Cherri had texted him a few times, Husk had texted him once; he wasn’t good with phones or any technology really.

“Oh stop it you flatter me, you’re the artist love; on stage and on camera,” Valentino he pulls Angel next to him. “Speaking of on camera, we miss you had the studio baby,” he puts his arm around him, Angel looks away nervously but Val turns his face to his; “I miss you..” Valentino licks Angel’s neck before biting it.

“Val..”Angel moans, Valentino begins kissing him; Angel can taste his sweet saliva, his mind beginning to become cloudy. Before Angel is consumed he turns his head away from Valentino moving away from him, “No,” He wipes his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Val glares at him.Others in the VIP begin to glance over at them.

“Not tonight,” Angel doesn’t look at him. Val yanks Angel back towards him. Angel looks up at him in fear.

“You would literally be nothing if it weren’t for me,” Val angrily whispers in his ear. “Now I let that cute shit you did at the club go, but if you keep fucking with me; there are other ways I can get your ass to come back to the studio, got it?” He growled.

“Yes,” Angel responded in a low voice.

“Yes, who?” Val pulls him closer.

“Yes, Valentino,” Angel’s voice trembles.

“Good boy,” he smirks, pinching his cheek. Valentino lets him go, turning to the crowd, “Sugar Cube sweetie!” He bites his lip. “Come here baby”. He gestures with his finger.

Angel turned seeing a girl walk into their section, she had navy blue skin with green eyes and curly hair in two low puffs. She wore black shorts, and a crop top with an upside cross around her neck. Angel stared shocked, could this really be the same girl?

“You actually came I’m so surprised, sit down,” Valentino pushes the demon on the opposite side away, this Sugar sat in his place. “Have you met Angel?” He nudges Angel and he turns around.

“I have, I’m a huge fan of what you do,” she smiles at him. “I don’t know if you remember me.”

Holy shit! This was the same person, “Uh.. yeah, I thought you were homeless,” He raised an eyebrow.

“I was, Val really helped me out,” She smiled.

Angel looked horrified.

Holy shit.

“Yeah she started a week ago,” Valentino smirked. “I decided to do some good for the people of hell, kind of like what your little princess is doing with that hotel; except working for me comes with more benefits.”

Holy shit.

[avalanchesumich]

mastermind!au

the breakup

december 6

cameron looked up, slightly annoyed that people decided to sit at the table right next to her. she was the only one in the library at the moment, writing her final paper. it was her last one. after her class, her, val, and tim would be heading home for winter break.

she quickly looked away as she realized who the pair was; raegan williams and andie johnson. the two of them always liked cam’s insta posts only if gabe was in them, and they always commented on gabe’s posts. she brought it up once to gabe, but he assured her she had nothing to worry about. and she believed him, but it still hurt her to see.

cam just took a deep breath and she went back to her paper, ignoring them until they started to speak louder, which was when val dropped by the library.

“hey,” she whispered, considering library etiquette, her eyes widening when cam put a finger over her mouth. “geez, sorry.”

“no,” cam leaned closer to val as she whispered. “it’s the girls always in gabe’s comments. they’re talking about him.”

“hate to break it to you, but gabe has a bunch of girls in his comments. he’s cute and good at hockey.”

cam slouched in her seat and glared at the document in front of her. now, she was jealous and unproductive.

“yeah, i mean, he was telling me he was thinking of breaking up with her,” raegan said in a normal voice, catching cam and val’s attention. “he said he’s basically in with her brothers, so what was the point anymore since he got what he wanted.”

cam set her jaw as she felt the burning sensation behind her eyes. in her mind, she replayed everything cale had tried to burn into her brain before he was yelled at by all the women in his life. she was brought back to her first boyfriend, who only dated her to get in with a stanley cup champion.

he’s just using you. she couldn’t see sense, only that she should have known better.

cam blinked rapidly, refusing to allow herself to cry at the moment. her eyes darted to the time in the bottom right corner of her laptop. swallowing thickly; she closed it.

“i have to get to class,” she mumbled to her friend. “i’ll see you later.”

val watxhed in shock as cam walked away slowly. she stared at the two girls beside her, eyeing the open water bottle. scoffing to herself, she stood up and walked by the girls, accidentally bumping into the water bottle. she watched as the contents poured all over raegan.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry!” val gasped. “i didn’t mean to.”

raegan glared up at her, standing up in shock. “of course not,” she muttered out.

“i’ll get paper towels,” angie said, side eyeing val as she walked to the bathroom.

“sorry again,” val smiled sweetly and walked away, pretending she didn’t hear the ‘bitch’ that followed.

only an hour had passed since the moment in the library, and cam was finally able to catch gabe alone.

“hi, pretty girl,” gabe grinned as she closed the door. “how are you? missed you.”

cam had planned to go about the conversation with a level head, but hearing him say that brought back every negative emotion she felt listening to what raegan had to say.

she felt the stinging sensation again, and this time she didn’t try and force it to stop. she let it happen this time.

“how are you?” she snapped at him. “i don’t know, gabe, how are you?” she watched as his face contorted into confusion. “i trusted you. i told you i was afraid of dating another guy like you. i told you what my brother had to say about us. i told you about my ex. and for what? for you to lie about your intentions to my face? how could you?”

“whoa, whoa,” gabe shook his head. his heart was racing because he had no clue where this was coming from. he jumped from his bed and came to stand in front of her. he tried to take her hands in his own, but accepted it when she took steps away from him. “what are you talking about?”

“you wanting me to get to cale,” cam said flatly. “i overheard her telling her friend everything. even the part where you were gonna break up with me now that you’ve finally got cale’s trust,” she swallowed as she said. “well i’ll do you one last favor. i’m breaking up with you.”

“what?” gabe’s voice cracked. “baby, no,” he shook his head. they both snapped their heads to the door that swung open. will rushing in with ryan in toe, both slightly out of breath.

“i have a flight to catch,” cam said, not leaving any room for gabe to argue, pretending her heart didn’t shatter any more seeing gabe cry in front of her.

it’s his own fault.

[yourkimjaejin]

Ms. Tipper

Sujin worked at a convenience store to save up money. He planned to buy his sister tickets to her favorite kpop group's concert. No one warned him that the tickets would fly in a matter of minutes. 

‘Oh well’  he thought. ‘Better to have money saved up than none at all’

Sujin worked at a store close to an entertainment company he couldn’t remember the name of. Frequently staff members and even idols themselves would stop in and grab some of the many treats lined on the shelves. And for a select few, at Sujin discretion, they got the VIP treatment. 

Whenever Sujin clocked in for his shift, after he sweeped the store and restocked the prepared foods, he would walk the isles and collect snacks. Setting them aside for when the frequent customers stopped in to buy them. Doing this bagged Sujin a TON of tips from newbie managers who ran around perpetually late for everything. They’re quick to throw money at anyone who makes their day just a bit easier. 

But most of those types weren’t memorable. The memorable ones left an impression, good or bad. 

Like her. 

Sujin met her one day during his rare night shift. Sujin is a student and his mom forbids him from working crazy hours while in school. He only did it for two reasons. 1. His mom and dad were out of town. 2. His boss promised to double his pay for the extra hours. 

So there he stood in an empty store. The only sounds coming from the air conditioning unit cooling down the room. Sujin’s boss told him to close up early if it looked like no one would stop in. but Sujin was nice. He stayed open for ten more minutes, giving whatever late night straggler roamed outside time before he decided to call it a night. Just as he grabbed the keys, a shrill chime of the overhead bell made him wince 

Well there goes my early night he thought, walking back to the front. Hoping his face didn’t give away his irritation. The irritation was wiped away at the cute girl that stood in front of the closing door. 

Interestingly, the girl bowed to him apologizing profusely for coming in late. She quickly ran around the lanes seemingly grabbing things at random but that couldn’t be. This girl knew exactly where everything was and while moving fast she never just knocked things over. With Mom-like precision she grabbed everything she needed and made her way to the counter. Sujun rang her up but for his trouble, the strange girl told him to keep the change as a tip. Sujin watched her run out of the store and down the street towards the company building. Huh, maybe she's a newbie, he thought.  The girl was out of sight by the time he looked down and saw two hundred dollars sitting on the glass. 

Her total was $15.38. 

He tried to chase after her but the girl was long gone. Leaving him with a load of extra cash in his pocket. 

As the weeks went on, the same girl came in at the most random moments. Always during his shift somehow. Every time she left a tip three or four times larger than her actual bill. And she wouldn’t take the money back when he offered, she just raced out of the store, sometimes even smirking. 

More weeks passed and the visit from ms.tipper, as he likes to call her, had become sparse. He figured something had happened and hoped the girl was ok. Not because of the money but she was fun. A bright spot on what was normally a pretty boring day. Like today. He had clocked into work making his rounds around the shelfs. Taking down the nearly expired food to refill later. When she finally walked in, he was relieved. As usual, she waltzed around like this corner store was her second home picking up snacks and sodas then making her way to the counter

The girl looked behind him, her eyes caught on the savings plan behind him. “What were you saving up for?” 

Sujin turned to look at his plan, completely filled, “Oh! That was my ticket saving plan. My sister…..she's a huge fan of this kpop group. I was saving up to buy her tickets for a late birthday present. They sold out before I got a chance to grab some.”

“Aww that's so nice! Which group are you aiming for?” Ms. Tipper put her stuff on the counter for Sujin to start scanning. 

“NCT 127.” Ms. Tipper was shocked for a second before composing herself once again. The rest of the visit was quiet. Sujin wondered if he said something to upset her. Regardless, seconds later his visit from Ms.Tipper was over. She was out the door and he had some shelfs to restock. Coming out of the backroom, he noticed Ms.Tipper was still standing outside the store. It looked like she was texting someone so he kept going about his business until the door opened again. Sujin thought it was another customer but he was wrong. 

“Here! Take these.” Ms.Tipper stood on his left holding out tickets for 127’s concert at the Jamsil arena. Sujin’s wide eyes kept flicking back and forth between the tickets and Ms.Tipper's hopeful smile. 

“I had some friends coming to the show on the second day but only one can make it. I texted her and she said I could give the other tickets to you and your sister. She and I both thought your story was super sweet.” While Ms. Tipper stood there with the tickets, Sujin was stunned. Here was this girl who not only tipped him a huge amount of money but now she was just giving away tickets for free. 

“How did you get those?” Was the only question he could think among the many he could have chosen if his brain would start working. 

“Oh!” Ms. Tipper then pulled her mask down revealing a face he recognized. Sujin had asked his sister why there was a girl on the poster of the boy group she wanted to see. That led to a way too long explanation that he barely listened to. But it was hard to forget her face. 

A face that was literally right in front of him. 

“Anybody who's a fan of ours should have a chance to see us in person. I won’t take no for an answer so you're just gonna have to accept these tickets.” Ms.Tip-sorry Moxy practically shoved the tickets into his hand. She was almost at the door when the cashier’s brain finally began working. 

“Wait! Could– would it be wrong to ask you to sign my sister album.” Moxy laughed as Sujin ran to the cash register to loot through his bag. Letting a sound of victory escape him when his finger touched his sister's album.

“You came prepared?”

 “My sister knew the shop was near the SM building. Said to keep it with me just in case.” Moxy made quick work signing the album. Moments later, the rapper ran out the door yelling “Have fun at the show!” As the door closed behind her, he thought of one thing

How was he gonna explain this to his sister?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“Hurry up Sujin! We have to find our seats!!” Sujin’s sister was bulldozing her way through the slew of green light sticks, dragging him by the wrist.  

“Chill, the show doesn’t start for thirty minutes.”

When Sujin surprised his sister with the tickets yesterday, he was forced to go over every detail of meeting his sister bias several times over. After an intense grilling session, his sister proceeded to drag all over Korea to pick outfits for them both to wear. While he did want to complain about the matching shirts, seeing his sister this happy made him shut his mouth. As Sujin and his sister made their way through the crowd to their seats.  Someone called out 

“Sujin-ah?!” He turned to see his crush, Jian for class 11B, waiting in the same seat that Moxy said her friend would be. Sujin shook his head thinking his crush would disappear. This whole situation felt too much like a dream for him. Jian smiled, waving the siblings over. She immediately began engaging with his little sister, fueling her excitement over the concert ahead. 

Moxy may have single handedly got him a date and won him brother of the year. 

He really had to listen to 127’s music now…..

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Taglist: @alixnsuperstxr / @1-800-call-ria / @sophrodite / @sunflower-0180

[rxgrrrl]

Our old apartment

Every corner is lived in, every shelf filled. The paint on the walls is thick enough to peel, and if you look you’ll find the flakes of paint me and my sister peeled off and hid. By the kitchenette is a doorway, covered in measurements. The tallest is mine, 4’ 1”. The shortest is Lucy’s, because she was a baby here. I was a baby in a different house I don’t remember. There’s a few dates missing, inches Lucy grew in Florida when she moved away with her mom. Daddy was sad when she moved, I made him a painting to cover the hole in the wall he made. She’s back now though, 3’ 3”. Through the doorway is the small table me and my sister eat at, right by the fridge. We stuck a gem on the wall, at midnight it will open a portal to another world. Our green couch has tears in it from jumping while dancing to the Futurama intro. There’s no jumping aloud in this apartment, our downstairs neighbor is mean. I like to touch the tv and feel the static, it’s soft… how can I feel it but not see it? The big bay windows behind the TV let light in that covers every inch of the apartment. Picture books fill the bookshelf next to the couch, a sunscreen bottle covered in dust (daddy always forgets to put it on us… him and I never get burnt but Lucy does, and her mom got mad), and Daddy’s camera. Daddy’s bed is up against the wall behind the couch, blocking a door that leads to another world, like in Coraline. It’s actually a second door to me and Lucy’s bedroom that we don’t use, but who’s to say it’s not blocked off for some other reason? In our room, two mattress frames lay side by side, touching each wall. It used to be a bunk bed that Daddy and his friends made for us, but Lucy’s mom found a crack in it when picking her up once, so now it’s just two frames on the floor. Our small dresser takes up the last bit of space, filled with mismatch socks that can only hope to be reunited with their pair. I’m pretty sure our room is actually a closet, because Dad says we have a studio apartment. Every night, me and Lucy peak out the crack in our door that’s too old to fully close and watch our dad’s cartoons. My favorite character is the one with the red and blue poofball hat. Across from our door is the door to the bathroom, and in between that is the closet that has our picnic blankets, beach toys and my dads old surf boards. He says he can’t surf as much anymore because he’s fat, but he’s not fat at all. He probably just has to stop smoking on the escape stairs out the window. Our bathroom has a big window that’s all warped so you can’t see out of it, and a bottle of bubble bath me and my sister made ourselves. My favorite part of my apartment is the orange hammock daddy hangs up sometimes, and our beta fish named Tang. We used to have two other goldfish that we won in a game at our neighbor Alana’s birthday party, but Daddy put their bowl too close to Tangs and they got scared to death before we came back from our Mom’s houses just two weekends later. Tang was a gift from Andrea, who I think was his girlfriend. She’s a painter, she painted a beautiful woman on one of Daddy’s surf boards. We haven’t seen her in a while though, I don’t think they’re friends anymore. It’s Saturday morning and Daddy is asleep on his bed behind us, as we watch Sesame Street. My stuffed bear Rufus is currently in the time out chair for jumping on the couch, but Bob Schmitt and Lucy’s lovie are in our arms. When Daddy wakes up we’ll walk to the cafe next to Upper Playground and get chocolate croissants. Me and Lucy will play on the fire hydrant, and maybe Alana and her dad Jed will pass by and we’ll play together. We’ll go to Dolores park and listen to the music, meet doggies, ask to try people’s slack lines, and when we hear the ringing bells of ice cream carts, Daddy will give us five dollars to each get a powerpuff girl popsicle. We’ll walk home and stop by the corner store, and I’ll watch the F trollies pass our block, crowded with people as he buys a pack of Marlboro reds and two tootsie pops.

[nancypullen]

It Was a Good Day

Okay, you’ll have to wait for the pics of the park and the chicken soup recipe because I just got home from having a GRAND time at The Foundry, Denton’s center for all things artsy and creative.  Tonight they hosted a fundraiser for Empty Bowls, a group that raises money for food related charities.  Basically, I paid to paint a bowl, they will keep it and fire it in a kiln, then I’ll pick it up at the Caroline County Culinary Arts Center and receive a free pint of soup.  The culinary center also runs Shore Gourmet where anyone can pop in for amazing baked goods, soups, prepared meals that you take and reheat, and more.  We’ve had several meals from Shore Gourmet and they’re always fabulous. So I made my donation, painted my bowl, had good conversation and lots of laughs with a bunch of ladies I don’t know, and came home feeling happy.  Bonus, in a couple of weeks I get my bowl back and some yummy soup.  I’m going to start signing up for more classes at The Foundry and maybe make some friends. It’s such a fun place, and usually people who gather to make art together are good souls.  I mean, the young woman running the event played DEAN MARTIN for background music.  It was like the universe telling me I’d found my spot.  So, hooray for today! In other news, look at these cute stickers I printed.  I’m going to get serious about finding a home for my cards and earrings and whatever else I make.  I can’t just keep making stuff and storing it.  I decided to just own my split personality, I’m thinking I’ll need a matching floral banner if I ever do crafts fairs.

As I was sitting at my desk today admiring those stickers, my eyes fell on this ornament. I made one for my sister and one for myself.  The “Our Hour” is a nod to the roller skating variety show we staged on our carport as kids.  It’s a shame you missed it. Lots of music, jokes, and very slow spins on skates.

  After taking the tree down I hooked it on a drawer knob of my desk.  It makes me smile.  When the grandgirl was here she noticed it and was studying it pretty closely.  I said, “That’s Grancy and Aunt Cathi when we were little girls.”  She responded, deadpan, “I recognized your hair.”   I can’t get a break. She asked me once, “Has your hair always been fluffy?”  Now she’s seen the proof.

Want to hear something exciting?  I’m going to Easton tomorrow to choose the color for the kitchen cabinets!!!

I’m going to disappoint some people by saying that I’m sticking with a cream color.  I mean, look at these!

Right now I’m eyeballing Benjamin Moore’s Winter Wheat, Navajo White, and Gentle Cream.   Originally I’d thought I’d get light granite, but I’m loving these darker counter tops.  I had dark counters in Tennessee and I don’t hate ‘em. I’d love something that looks like soapstone.  At this point I’ll take what I can get, but I’m dreaming and scheming.   And speaking of dreaming and scheming, I’m starting to draw out some garden plans for spring. It’s closer than you think!  I’m devoting my garden spaces to flowers and herbs - that’s it.  I can buy everything from tomatoes to watermelons on every corner here, I’m exiting the tomato growing business.  Basil, dill, thyme, oregano, mint...that’ll be in my garden, for sure.  I’m hoping to plug in mostly perennials around the house - rudbeckia and that sort of thing. It’s Maryland’s state flower - surely it’ll do well.

I’m being paged to watch a new Dateline with the mister, so I’ll wrap this up.  I’ll leave you with a quick shot of the path I walk at Martinak.  Even in the winter, with bare trees, it’s lovely.

Alright, see ya’ tomorrow. I’ll bring the chicken soup.  I’ve got the photos (not great ones) so I’ll get those in order and post the recipe.  I make a pot of this nearly every week and Mickey loves it.  I know that’s a pretty low bar, because he’ll eat anything I put in front of him, but he does request that I make it. I hope that you’re cozy and content on this January evening. I’m already in my flannel jammies and under a blanket, it might even be a popcorn night. Walkin’ on the wild side. Sending out love and hugs. Stay safe, stay well, stay warm.

Nancy

[st4rbwrry]

shortcake. eren yeager.

warnings . . . fem!reader, baker!eren, fluff, cute lil food fight, eren’s a house husband, soft sex, oral <f received>, tiny bits of spanking, black coded, pleasure!dom, domestic eren.

. . . mocha’s note; in honor of me hitting my 8k milestone. *clinks champagne glass*

. . . hey siri, play you by don toliver.

a sweet aroma of sugar and cake hits your nose when you walk into the rustic brick house you and your love owned. deep into an enchanted forest in italy, deciding to move here after your fifth anniversary. you just got back from your morning stroll, yellow sundress flowing with the wind as the woven brown basket in your arm swings lightly. you filled it with fruits from the nearby market. peaches were back in season so you picked a few of them. gathered lemons for lemonade. strawberries because they’re eren’s favorite. and granny smith apples for apple pie.

when you entire the kitchen to place your goodies in the fridge, also to follow the delicious scent, you’re shocked to see your husband shirtless other than an apron and sweats on his body, bowls and bowls filled with various ingredients ranging from flour, eggs, milk, cake mix, and strawberries. he’s whipping a fluffy white mixture in a bowl now as he whistled to himself.

“eren?”

when he turns, you snicker at the spots of flour on his face. one on his nose, and some on his cheek and chin. his pristine white teeth beaming as he sees his pretty girl, waving his wooden spoon at you.

“hiiiiii,” he smiles.

“good morning, honey. i leave for two hours and this is what happens?”

“okay, so boom,” his heavy feet strolls toward you, kissing your forehead before he’s walking around the kitchen island to his macbook. “i was watching all of these aesthetic pastry videos and shit on youtube, and i came across these korean street food clips and one of them were of strawberry shortcake’s i reallyyy wanted to make for you. so, yeah. i apologize for the mess.”

“i’m intrigued,” you giggle, giving him a kiss on the lips before focusing on the video that’s on loop on his laptop. “you’re so sweet. you wanted to do this for me?”

“mostly for you, yes. but some for me because i made myself hungry watching hours of footage.”

“so that’s what took you so long in the bathroom. you were watching while in the shower?” you raise your brow, smoothing your hands over his waistline, your cheek on his back as you hug him, his natural scent making you feel at home.

eren upturns his lips, raising a hand. “guilty.”

“well, how’s the progress so far?”

“uhhh,” he looks around, pouting. “it’s going. i’ve been measuring and prepping for about an hour.”

“do you mind if i help?” you bat your lashes. “i picked fresh strawberries we can use.”

“i meant to say you were out earlier than usual. how was your walk?”

“it was nice. the birds were singing to me this morning so that had me up. they opened this new bread shop around the corner so i got some ciabatta for dinner.”

“sounds fun. i was gonna ask for assistance once you came home. don’t think i can finish it on my own,” he frowns.

“awe, it’s okay. atleast you tried,” you pet his cheek. “can i have my apron? don’t wanna ruin my dress.”

“speaking of,” eren hums, turning you around by your waist after setting his bowl down, spanking your ass. you squeak. “wearing this out without me by your side? the squirrels could’ve saw. then what will we tell my mother?”

“that i’ve moved on and i’m living a better life with the one i’ve fallen for. that he owns an enchanted village of sticks and moss and promised me fresh nuts every morning,” you follow his joke before the two of you laugh.

“my nuts are grown from trees that reside by the waterfalls, so.”

“then maybe i’ll stay. don’t give the king a reason to take me.”

after a few more silly jokes, eren takes the apron off his body and slips it over your head, tying it tight to see your tits bulge up, smacking his bare arm before untying and making it more comfortable. since he made one hell of a mess, you decided to start over from scratch. japanese sponge strawberry shortcake was the actual recipe. didn’t take much to make but perfection is key when it comes to eren. you let him do something easier, like cutting up the strawberries while you made the batter and prepped the pans.

the oven was set, and in went the cake. while that baked, the two of you cleaned up the kitchen, talking about things you wanted to do, memories, work, or dreams you had. eren mentioned an erotic dream he had about his favorite actor which caused playful jealously to arise to a point where you threw a grape at him you retrieved from the fridge to snack on. eren retaliates by throwing an apple at you, thinking it was gentle until it hit your boob and you were whining about the pain. eren gasping and holding his hand to his mouth, coming toward you with frantic ‘i’m sorry, i’m sorry’s’.

you get back at him by tossing a pinch of flour in his face, bopping his nose with your finger before running away with screams as he chased you. you tried to dodge him every time he crossed the counter, screeching when he catches you with one arm by your waist and carry’s you like you’re a fish on a hook, spanking your ass as punishment after sitting on the floor. you slap him away as he attacks your neck with kisses and chuckles, sitting on his lap and slowly making out with him, spluttering from the taste of flour and cleaning his face off with your apron.

by then the cakes are ready, and eren takes them out while you leap onto the counter while swinging your feet, chewing at your nails as you study the muscles on his back and arms. the black sweats he wears hanging lower than earlier, showcasing his deeply cut v-line. that blissful trail of pubic hair sticking out a little. he kept himself well trimmed.

“they have to cool off before we put the icing on it.”

he stands in front of you, studying you as you play with the bowl of whipped cream, scooping some up with your finger before tasting it. “mhmmm. taste this.”

you scoop another and put your finger in his mouth, eren nodding, smacking his lips. “tastes like you.”

you play with it more, being childish almost as you say ‘oops’ every time you put some on your face. a dash on your lips, one on your cheek, and another on your neck. eren shakes his head at you, hands on your flattened thighs. eren’s focused on your face, emerald eyes flickering to the line of cream sitting on your cheek. your body temperature rises the closer he gets, his wide palms caressing your thighs, sliding up further as his thumbs massaged your soft flesh. you’re whimpering when his long tongue slithers out his mouth to collect the cream on your face, hot breath fanning your skin, clit pulsating as you hear a guttural moan from him. he sucks on his bottom lip before pressing his lips to yours, sharing the vanilla delicacy. it’s chaste, unfortunately, eren pulling his lips away. a noise you make has him gnawing at his lips like candy, making them redder.

“what’s that whine for, ‘uh?” he breathes, hands trailing higher underneath your flour coated apron and yellow sundress. it’s hanging loosely on your body, your dress engulfing your curves and hiking off your ass almost. a few chestnut locs drift over his eyes that are giving you that one fucking look that drives you crazy. the one where his eyes are gone, half shut, dark, and glaring down at you like you’re a meal he’s ready to devour. you squirm in place, wanting to be connected to him. it’s silent as long fingers slide underneath and in between your thighs. there’s a sudden raise of a brow on his face along with a condescending gasp.

“baby!” he exclaims, wide eyed. “what’s this? no panties? you walked around like this all morning?”

a whimper you let out makes the man in front of you hum with approval, your body jerking once his thumb catches your clit, sluice in your own mess with his teasing. he clearly appreciates it with the way he kisses your forehead. rubbing circles slowly to relieve the ache that built up, scooting on the counter to make him press harder. he’s being too gentle. eren cups the side of your face in one of his hands, keeping your focus on him. the print in his sweats now poking at your knee, rushing with blood.

“i like when you’re greedy like this, as if i don’t fuck you every day,” his voice is groggy. it’s getting to him now. neck turning red. the earring in his left ear sparkles when the sunlight hits his face from the gleaming bay window, fixing his posture and dragging you near the edge of the counter so he can lock his arms under your thighs. “acting deprived. tenacious. you’re so—tempting.”

then, he’s lowering to his knees, hot mouth encasing the flesh of your thighs with wet kisses and gentle sucks, trailing up to your leaking pussy. your legs can’t help themselves as they buck and raise, your feet sitting on his bare shoulders as your back arches and your nails drag through his scalp.

“clit’s swollen as fuck,” eren releases a guttural moan that has you trembling, his pillow lips sheltering your clit after his tongue lays flat on it, kissing you and savoring your taste.

you’re not exactly sure what it is. if it’s just him, if there’s an aphrodisiac in the air—but you’re outrageously horny. so badly it’s making your clit that’s being ravaged by his tongue extra sensitive. your hands slap flat on the counter top, lifting your hips to hump his face, irises turning white as they scroll back. eren groans into your pussy, opening and closing his mouth quicker, bouncing his head with your every move. slurping and drooling so much that saliva trails down your ass.

“god, baby,” eren grunts. you squeak when eren hastily stands back to his feet, pinning your knees to your breast and making you fold your arms underneath the curve of them to keep them put. he lowers his head to spit sloppily, taking his ring and middle finger to fuck you with, thrusting slow and kissing at your puffy clit salaciously.

sensitive. you’re so goddamn sensitive that eren’s actually surprised that you cum so fast, screaming into your knees that quake as you gush on his fingers and he licks you up real good. doesn’t stop. never questions your release. and it makes matters worse when you release your legs to try and crawl away only to have him ball your apron and dress up in his fist to keep you fomented to his starving mouth. chin doused in your slick, face buried deeper now.

“ere—waitt, baby,” a whine drags from you, pushing at his head to stop him. it’s like he’s deaf; pretends he doesn’t hear you at all. instead, continues to suck on you until you’re sitting in a puddle of mixed waters.

“baby, stop!” your stomach hurts as you squeal and laugh cutely, giving him one more shove before he lets you go with a lewd squelch echoing. he doesn’t even look at you, just enjoying his time, french kissing your thighs yet again. so in love with them. so in love with you.

“swear i’m ‘bout to cum,” he swallows, pulling you to sit back up, your blown pupils watching as he tugs his sweats down to sit under his thick cock that slaps on your leg. he’s drunk off you already, usually getting really quiet when he’s off the edge. adamant and greedy.

it’s all about your pleasure first, that’s all he cares about. but when you get him this fucking pent up? he wants nothing more than for your pussy to make him cum. there’s something so fucking primal to see you in ecstasy. to see you cum, to see your eyes scroll or watch you squirm and claw at his flesh till he’s got red marks all over him. and to be the one causing it? it’s so—sublime. it’s his favorite part being your high.

your feet are planted on the island so you’re squatted in a sort, eren patting the head of his cock on your cute clit gently before adjusting his hips in the right angle to slip inside. once you have a grip on it, eren grabs your waist and shuffles forward. you keen and lift your ass to pull him in more.

“ah, ah,” eren lightly taps your cheek with two fingers, kissing his teeth. “let it sink in.”

bellowing cries ripple in the air as eren fully fills you, the two of you whimpering in sync as he pulls back before pushing forward, picking up the pace just a bit. he’s hissing with his brows furrowed as he continues to yank you close as he thrusts. eren let’s go momentarily to cup your face in his hands, resting his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on as tears build up in your eyes. you’re hiccuping, panting hard and unable to process why he’s so fucking good at making you feel this way.

“is that good, baby?” eren traces your lips with his saliva coated thumb before slicking his tongue over them, rolling his waist and hitting fairly quicker. wanting to maintain a gentle pace.

“yessss,” you sniffle, doe eyes staring up at him like he’s an angel on earth. melting in his touch like butter. feeling small and submissive in his care.

“focus, baby,” his raspy voice whispers, your hands clutching onto his wrists while he caresses your face. “hold your breath. mhm. breathe when you’re cummin’.”

both of your lips are parted, eren slamming his cock into your dripping pussy when he’s nearing his high, face scrunched up with gruff ‘uh unh’s’ leaving him. you do as he says with your breath control, eren knowing that when you hold it your orgasm strikes you like lightning. an exasperated gasp deluges loudly from your whiny mouth, all those noises running straight to eren’s cock, vincinal to cum. you’re crying so much it’s uncontrollable.

“f-fuckk,” air catches in your throat which makes you choke, eren reflexively taking your throat in his hand before bringing to forward to lick and kiss at the side of your neck, loosing strength in your limbs. then, you cum. to eren’s fucking grace, nails clawing at his flexing ass and broad backside. “why you fuckin’ me like this?”

the slurred question instantly makes eren grab the back of your neck to pull you in to his chest, locking his forearm under your right thigh to lift you easily off the counter to fuck his cum into you, stepping back so all of your weight is in his hands. pounding messily as you leak down to his balls and milk him for all he’s got, eren huffing in your neck and telling you ‘cause i love you’ as his answer.

and it warms your heart, but also makes you moan because you know that he’s only yours to keep. that you’re the only one receiving this treatment. you loved him too.

“did so good, baby,” he kisses your cheek, still holding you. “let’s run you a bath.”

“the cake,” you pout, pawing at his shoulders to cling on to your barely there conscious.

“we’ll decorate it after. need to get your mind back together.”

© 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

[shibaraki]

UNCONVENTIONAL LOVE AFFAIR ┊ SEIJOH FOUR

synopsis: the relationship you and your four best friends shared had always been looked upon with scrutiny. after a reunion and a little bit of liquid courage, you realise the suspicion wasn’t all that unfounded.

tags: AFAB FEM reader x seijoh 4 (Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki Takahiro), best friends to lovers, M/M and F/M action (we all fucking each other, it do be gay folks), oral sex (m!receiving & f!receiving), fingering (vaginal), 69 position, dry humping, group sex (fivesome), vaginal penetration, masturbation, handjobs, alcohol (they’re only slightly tipsy), protected sex, after care, fluff and smut, polygamous vibes (nothing about this screams casual lol), affectionate petnames (baby, pretty girl, good girl, angel)

wc: 5k

It's been a long time since the five of you have been together in one place. Naturally you'd seen all four of them on separate occasions, sometimes meeting up with Issei and Takahiro for a meal, or visiting Hajime and Tooru when they were home for the new year. But this weekend you were all finally in the same country, same prefecture, same bar, for the first time in years, and you could feel something inside you become whole again.

Truthfully you hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed it; the light hearted banter and the laughter, how loving and playful and handsy you all were with each other. The friendship you shared with these boys was something you'd be hard pressed to find anywhere else. It was special, and you savoured every moment you had with them.

The night itself had been fun, a large majority of it spent catching each other up on things you’d already said through text, talking so much you’d barely even touched your drinks. You hardly wanted it to end, your heart aching at the thought of having to part with them again.

“Fucker gets prettier every time I see him,” Hajime mutters offhandedly, drink held loosely in his hand, staring off in the direction that Oikawa had walked to order another drink, having finally finished his first. You grin, feeling a little predacious.

“And your biceps get bigger every time I see you,” you reply, arms crossed over the table surface and leaning closer so he can hear you over the distant music, “you don’t see me complaining”.

His eyes meet yours heavily, the pull of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he flexes the arm holding up his glass. A little tipsy and unashamedly he asks, “want to feel ‘em?”

“You’re an idiot,” you snort. He laughs along with you, the years and distance haven’t changed your friendship at all. It’s every bit as easy as it used to be.

“That a no?”

“You know it isn’t,” you grumble, scooting around the booth and sidling up against him, resting your cheek against his thick shoulder and wrapping your hand around his bicep. At least attempting to, the muscle too dense and built for you to encircle with one hand.

“Hey, I want to feel Hajime up too!”

You hear a distinct and recognisable whine of complaint. Oikawa appears back at the head of the table with a new cocktail in his hand, bottom lip shining and jutted into a pout that you’ve seen many times before it no longer works on you.

Maybe if Iwaizumi was still a teenage boy he would’ve spluttered in embarrassment and told Tooru to get lost, but now he wordlessly offers his other arm to his best friend and the brunette lights up.

“Man, you three got friendly while we were gone, huh?” Hanamaki grins, throwing himself back against the cushions of the booth, Issei joining him with four new drinks between his large hands. You let your stare linger on them for a moment, maybe a little too aroused by the rings adorning his fingers. A drink slides in front of you and you catch Issei’s knowing gaze. Caught.

“Are we finally acknowledging how obscene Iwaizumi’s arms are?” Makki drawls, reaching for his own drink, shaking his wrist out as he does to reposition the watch locked around his forearm.

“Actually we were talking about how pretty Tooru is,” you say with faux nonchalance, dutifully ignoring Hajime’s quick glare. Issei notices and bites back a laugh of his own. Oikawa’s face pinkens and he tilts his head toward the two of you coyly, “you think I’m pretty?”

“We already know you’re pretty, we’ve been subjected to it our whole lives,” Makki groans in protest. “Everyone wanted to fuck you, let someone else have a turn!”

Oikawa latches onto the admission tightly, teeth bared as he grins. “Everyone?” He lilts, eyes narrowing and his expression smug like he thinks he’s won the argument but Takahiro huffs, completely unperturbed and confesses loud and clear:

“Yes, everyone”. The us included goes unsaid.

You watch on as Tooru’s expression morphs into surprise, suddenly becoming very interested in his hands and unable to make eye contact. Issei finally lets himself chuckle unrestrained.

“The great Oikawa Tooru rendered speechless by jobless Hanamaki Takahiro—”

You press your face further into Hajime’s bicep to hide your amusement, feeling him shake with laughter as Makki interrupts Matsukawa with the swipe of his hand in offense.

“Well, it wasn’t just me,” Oikawa cuts in and clears his throat, spinning his cocktail glass in the puddle of condensation that had formed beneath it. He glances at you, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip and leaving a shine behind it.

“It was you, too,” he clarifies. Under their rapt attention the booth feels much smaller, and the heat simmering under your skin can no longer be entirely blamed on the alcohol, especially not as they all murmur in unanimously in agreement.

“I remember the first and second years following you around like a puppy,” Makki muses to the group, an endeared smile on his face as he recalls the memory, “even Kentaro. Remember when he got hit in the face by a serve because he was staring at you?”

“The only puppies I remember following me are you four,” you deflect hastily, swallowing the saliva pooling beneath your tongue, “you shitheads never left me alone”.

“That's cause if we did someone would come snatch you away from us,” Tooru chimes playfully, stretching his hand out to poke the swell of your cheek. You hope he can't feel how hot it is.

“So you all just wanted me to yourselves, is that it?” you reply in jest, but something far hungrier settles behind Oikawa’s eyes, as if you were cornered prey.

“Why do you think we scared away all your little boyfriends?” Hajime adds, though he has the decency to appear somewhat embarrassed about it, gaze flickering between the glasses settled infront of him.

“None of ‘em were good enough for you”.

“Oh, but you all were?” they collectively seem to restrain a smirk at the incredulity in your voice, pitched and flustered by the onslaught of attention.

“Of course,” Takahiro sighs theatrically, leaning his upper body across the table surface towards you, “I would treat you right”.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, cocking his head in a mocking manner. “And who’s paying for her dinner? Your mother’s pocket money?”

“Fuck you, Oikawa!”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The tension does not settle, but it no longer feels suffocating, eased by their familiar banter. Again, for what may be the hundredth time that evening, your stomach is tight with laughter. The knowledge that they all want you gradually settles into your thoughts, clicking into place as you accept it.

“Maybe you’re not entirely wrong,” you confess aloud after another short sip of your sake, warm and fond, "no one makes me happier than you four idiots. I’m surprised it wasn’t obvious”.

“People spread all sorts of rumours about the five of us back in high school”.

“Like what?” Hajime asks lowly, but as you turn to answer him Matsukawa's voice cuts into the conversation.

“They all thought we were fucking each other”.

The silence that then descends upon the booth isn’t awkward or uncomfortable, rather it’s heavy, magnetic. Anticipatory. It only worsens as it stretches, nobody bothering to speak up in denial.

While the rumour may have had no truth to it, you couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t thought about it.

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed..." Hanamaki eventually mutters with his gaze pointedly averted to the ceiling. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, silently agreeing with the sentiment, an outlandish suggestion waiting on the tip of your tongue.

Between the five of you, it was clear you were thinking the same thing.

“Are we genuinely all considering this?” Issei asks dubiously.

“Isn’t it kind of unbalanced?” Hajime grimaces, his gaze falling to where you're seated beside him, “and it’s an uneven number—”

“Hajime, are you seriously thinking about the logistics of our possible fivesome right now?” Oikawa grins, pink cheeked and tipsy, “you’re so cute”.

“Speaking of logistics,” Makki interrupts with arms stretched up over his head with a satisfying click, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal his soft stomach, “who the hell has a bed big enough for all of us?”

You still. That’s where you would come in. It wasn't often that you spoiled yourself, but your bed was your favourite place, emperor sized and taking up most of the room — weighted and heated blankets galore. It could probably fit four men over six foot tall.

Probably.

“My place might work?”

That's how you find yourself sitting anxiously in the middle of your bed, the familiar covers thick and comfortable beneath your knees. The mattress dips, then you feel the heat of another body close behind you, following you toward the headboard.

Getting here had been a quick affair, money thrown onto the table and an uber already waiting. But now you're restless and waiting, the boys busy arguing under their breath about who should go where. Impatient, you pull your shirt over your head and cast it aside, taking note of the suspicious silence that befell the room, and reach to unhook the clasp of your bra. Practiced and easy, the straps slip into the crook of your arms and the cups fall forward, revealing your breasts.

“Fuck,” a chorus of rough voices, all of them thick with want and all of it for you. The sheets shift, and then a large tan hand is pressing you down into the pillows.

“What’re you doing?”

“What I want,” Issei hums, kneeling between your legs to lean toward your exposed chest, eyes looking to you for permission. You nod sharply, and the corner of his lips quirk up at your eagerness.

“Just go with it, and don’t think so much,” he mutters offhandedly over his shoulder to the others before taking your nipple into his mouth. You inhale sharply, spine bowing to press into the touch.

“Shit, okay,” Hajime grunts, approaching the bed. With more tenderness that necessary, he turns your face with both hands cradling your cheeks and kisses you. Hesitant at first, his lips are gentle and reassuring, growing fervent as you respond with enthusiasm. He licks into your mouth, tongue languidly circling your own, a hand slipping down the side of your throat so his thumb can brush over your pulse. It’s unbearably fast.

Another warm body falls to the right of yours, ears pricking to the recognisable sound of tongues and teeth meeting. A familiar ache of arousal pulses between your legs at the sound of Tooru’s distinct whimper, plucked skilfully from the back of his throat. You feel pulled in every direction, overwhelmed, struggling to focus your attention on Hajime as Issei's hand begins to massage firm circles into your inner thigh. Your breath hitches as it slides closer to your pussy.

Hajime notices and pulls away from you momentarily, a string of spit hanging between the two of you, peering over to where you suspect Oikawa is laid. You swallow thickly as his eyes glaze over, struck by the sight, and you find yourself wanting to look too.

You empathise with his reaction, throbbing as you take in the image of Oikawa pinned under Hanamaki, engaged in a wet kiss as their hips roll in synchrony. It's an awful push and pull, aroused yet find yourself frustrated, wanting to touch them, touch all of them, and not being able to.

Takahiro catches your stare in his peripheral through half lidded eyes and smirks knowingly, stretching himself across Tooru to get to you. Unexpectedly, his arm passes over you, hand cupping the back of Hajime’s neck and pulling him down until the three of your mouths meet in the middle. It’s hot, clumsy and wet, your jaw falling slack as Issei strokes his fingers across your pussy. Hiro exhales a laugh at your whine.

"Keep touchin' her like that".

Warm hands roam the length of your body, barely cognisant of who they might belong to, startled by a hot breath against your clothed pussy. You turn away from the kiss to collect yourself and find you’re nose to nose with Tooru, flushed a beautiful red and watching you unblinkingly, like he’s scared he might miss something. You tilt your chin forward to kiss him, too, because it hardly seems fair that you haven’t yet. Gently sucking his lower lip between your teeth, you taste a faint hint of strawberry from his flavoured chapstick and feel yourself smile. It’s sweet, like him, and his lips are devastatingly soft. Pillowy, plump in a way that makes you want to take a bite out of them.

There's the hard press of a cock against your hip, accompanied by a choked moan that you’re sure belongs to Hajime. There's the rough murmur of Takahiro's name, followed by a quiet breath of laughter from between your legs. Issei begins to pull down your underwear from beneath your skirt, nuzzling his mouth into the plush of your thigh and leaving behind a path of kisses to the inside of your knee.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasps, throwing your pants to the other side of the bed, reverent as he parts your legs. His exclamation draws the attention of Hanamaki, who immediately leans back to catch a glimpse of your pussy.

“She’s so wet already,” he murmurs, and Issei hums in agreement, thumbs sliding back down your thighs to gently pull your lips apart. Takahiro reaches down, his long nimble fingers stroking through your folds, collecting your slick and pausing over your clit to massage tight circles against you.

“You’re all still too dressed right now,” you whine in complaint, keenly aware of your vulnerability being the only one in the room without clothes on. They’re all hasty to appease you, movements endearingly clumsy as they tug the material of their shirts and pants off, kicking them off the side of your bed and barely giving you time to consider the mess they’re making.

Oikawa remains at your side, pawing at you, nails leaving small crescent moon indents along your hips and waist, kneading his fingers into the meat of your ass like he's mapping out your body for himself. For those few moments you guiltily forget that the others are with you, and you’re drawn into a bubble in which only you and Tooru exist, his fingers careful as they outline your cunt and slowly press into you.

Brows drawn and jaw slack, body curling into the touch, open mouths pressed together and panting. Blindly you search his body, fist circling his cock in return, thumb swiping through the pre-cum leaking from his slit. With bangs stuck to his forehead and cheeks doused in pink, Oikawa swipes his tongue lazily along the middle of yours, spit falling from the corner of his mouth. Around you the mattress rests uneven, dipped beneath the wait of the three men looming over you, fucking their hands as Tooru fucks you on his fingers. It's voyeuristic, salacious, and dirtier than anything you've ever done.

“God,” Hajime growls, rough hand curling under your knee and folding it against your chest to broaden their view. Heat shoots through you, an imposing and familiar tightening in your lower stomach, your grip on his cock tightening instinctively while Oikawa moans wanton into the crook of your neck.

Right there. His touch curls upwards towards your belly, and you fight weakly against Hajime’s hold to press your thighs together, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as you near your peak.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper, back arching and rolling weakly into the thrusts of his fingers. There is a moment of suspension before you feel yourself tipping over the edge, hips canting up and the muscles of your legs seizing, an embarrassing cry catching in your throat.

“That’s it pretty girl,” Hajime’s voice murmurs from above you. A gentle movement across your cheeks to brush your hair from your face, your leg released from his hold as you’re being turned onto your side, Tooru's fingers sliding carefully out of your pussy.

Hajime shapes his body around yours from behind, caging you against his chest, his cock sliding easily through your wet folds. “Is this ok? Can I fuck you?” he asks, trembling like a man restrained, waiting diligently for your consent. With that you reach over your shoulder to thread through his hair, cupping the back of his neck in reassurance.

You nod.

“We should use condoms,” he stammers at the last second, desperately trying to remain responsible, biting his cheek when his cock catches on your entrance. You’d almost forgotten about using them yourself. Issei is the closest so you point toward your bedside table, the box sitting in the pull out drawer.

Once he has rolled the condom on, Hajime reaches down to guide his cock between your legs. You stretch readily around him as he sheaths himself inside of you, grunts muffled against your shoulder and hips slow, soft pecks left at the nape of your neck.

Tooru scoots closer to your front in a bid for your attention, sandwiching you between their firm bodies and slotting your lips together in a desperate kiss. His is hand now fisted around his own cock, stroking himself languidly and twisting his wrist as you still recover from your first orgasm. Still wanting to make him feel good, your fingers cascade down his lean chest to his nipples, and his hips jerk upwards when you pinch them.

“Hiro? ‘Sei?” You mumble against Tooru's mouth, worried about their absence, wanting to make sure everyone was okay and still with you. Wanting them to feel wanted.

“We’re here baby,” Issei reassures you warmly from somewhere in the room, then moving around the mattress to seat himself behind Tooru's head by the bedframe. While Hajime fucks into you with long, purposeful strokes, Hanamaki busies himself by lapping messily at your clit, completely unperturbed by the passing of Iwaizumi’s cock, his other hand resting idly on Oikawa’s calf.

Issei spreads his thighs and positions himself over you and Tooru, knees sinking into the pillows by the headboard. His cock hangs heavy and twitching with impatience, so you tilt your chin up from the kiss to welcome him into your mouth.

“That’s it baby,” he groans, the tip hitting the back of your throat. You clench unceremoniously at the praise and Hajme hisses, his thrusts quickening and chasing the sensation. Overwhelmed, your other hand flies to tightly grip Takahiro's hair in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself and he groans, fingers digging into the smooth skin of Tooru’s leg as he eventually comes up for air. He's a mess, chin and cheeks slick with spit.

A thumb soon replaces his tongue on your clit and Hiro turns his attention to groping at Oikawa’s defined glutes, fingers inconspicuously disappearing behind the curve of his ass, cock red and throbbing against the pale freckled skin of his thigh. You stare with hunger, debauched and lost in your attempt to suck Issei’s cock, as Makki leans his head up toward Issei to silently ask for a kiss.

The room fills with hot pants, the sharp slap of skin and a cacophony of groans. You’re completely encaged from all sides, the large built bodies of your friends weighted and unrelenting. There’s an air of desperation between the five of you that’s hard to ignore, clearly influencing each other’s actions, frantic and wanting. Oikawa’s breathing hitches, a feeble whimper tumbling from his lips, brows creased and his fist speeding up around his cock. He’s close, you realise.

Your childhood best friend is about to cum all over you while the other is fucking you from behind.

“Figures he’d be pretty even when he cums,” Hajime rasps, bucking into you at the sound, forcing your mouth further down Issei’s cock. You gag helplessly around him and Tooru laughs, the sound cut off by a sharp intake of breath, his entire body seizing as he cums against the soft skin of your stomach.

Issei pays you a small mercy then, shifting his hips away, thick cock leaving your mouth drenched in spit. In that same moment, Tooru recovers and takes a hold of Hajime’s chin, pulling him over your shoulder into a lewd open mouthed kiss. It tips Hajime over the edge, has him driving his cock into your pussy without thought, the crude slapping of skin reverberating in your ears as Hiro tries to synchronize the speed of his thumb over your clit with each thrusts.

When Hajime cums his entire body quakes, cursing tumbling into Oikawa’s mouth as his feet kick out across the covers.

Your orgasm washes over you much more abruptly than the first. You feel yourself bearing down around Hajime’s softening cock, vision flashing black as your eyes squeeze shut. “Haji-” you gasp, his name caught in your throat, sore and wrecked. A hand threads through your hair as you ride it out, another pair of lips to your ear whispering sweet nothings, an arm around your waist caressing the small of your back. You’d never felt more held than in this moment.

“How many times do you think you can cum?” Oikawa wonders aloud, nosing affectionately against your temple, “it’d be fun to find out”.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you groan feebly, wincing at the sensation of Hajime pulling out of you, littering kisses of apology along the curve of your shoulder before moving to get off the bed and dispose of the condom.

Takahiro is quick to claim the vacant spot, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “I wanna know too,” he grins mirthfully. Issei remains seated at the headboard, languidly stroking his cock with eyes settled on you.

“Think you can take one more?” Hiro asks, his question genuine, an air of concern about it. They’re worried about pushing your limits. It’s sweet, but it’s not necessary.

“How do you want me?” is your soft response, determined to see this through, to satiate their curiosity. Issei finally moves at that, lifting himself off the pillows and making his way to the foot of the bed.

“Hiro, c’mere,” Issei says with a slight air of authority, and you notice that he’s holding another condom packet between his fingers. Takahiro glares petulantly but complies, shuffling to the end of the bed as he’s told to. Issei then directs him to lie on his back with his head pointed toward the end of the mattress rather than the headboard.

“Now you,” he signals with the nod of his head, a gentle smile resting on his lips that's betrayed by the predacious glimmer in his eyes. Tooru helps you up and you crawl over to them on all fours, ignoring Hanamaki’s playful whistle.

“Sit on his face with your back to me and suck his cock, can y’do that for me?”

You huff at the instructions, covering for the fact that his condescending tone shoots right through your body, pussy already aching. Hiro has no complaints, eagerly lifting his upper half off the sheets to meet you with his tongue before you’ve even taken a seat, and you whine at the sensitivity.

Leaning forward onto your forearms you take Takahiro's cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, tense as it passes teasingly over his frenulum. You’re rewarded with a rough groan against your pussy, the sound vibrating sweetly against your clit.

“That’s it angel,” Tooru praises, laid on his front watching you take Takahiro down your throat, gagging around him as you feel the tip of Issei's cock slide through your folds. As he presses into you he takes two handfuls of your ass, rocking you back down onto his length, the weight of your body pressing Hanamaki into the sheets.

Any concerns of suffocating him are quickly placated, Hanamaki's hips jolting upwards in pleasure as he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit, tilting his head back further to lap at the underside of Issei's cock.

He's a little bigger than Hajime. The stretch is apparent, a gentle sting but not uncomfortable. It’s as if your entire body is alight, reactive to the smallest touch, accompanied by the weightless swoop in your stomach. Each pass of Hiro’s tongue draws you closer to the edge, body winding tighter around the drag of Issei’s cock, his fingers bruising against your hips.

“Not gonna last long,” Issei pants, the words strained. Hanamaki murmurs in agreement, and you feel him throbbing heavily on the flat of your tongue. You’re holding yourself up with shear determination alone, arms trembling and threatening to give way, when a hand enters your field of vision.

“I’ll help you out, ‘kay?” Tooru smirks, clasping around the lower half of Hiro’s length. With a particularly powerful thrust from Issei, you let yourself collapse against Hiro’s thigh, watching as he fucks Oikawa's fist. You hear his uncharacteristic growl, cock pulsing as he begins to cum, spilling over onto his navel.

With Issei still holding your hips up the change in position has his cock repeatedly kissing your sweet spot. Hiro is quick to collect himself, tensing his tongue and flicking it rapidly over your clit, the pace continuing even through his own orgasm.

You're left squirming with your thighs clamped either side of his head. “Fuck, I’m already—” the warning is interrupted by your own drawn out moan, back arching up obscenely and an unforgiving grip on the sheets. Your third orgasm ripples through you, intense and unending, the pleasure ebbing through you in its aftershocks. A string of disjointed curses fall from Matsukawa's mouth with a final jerk of his hips, pulling you firmly against his pelvis, keeping his cock nestled inside you as he cums. He continues to undulate his hips even as he softens, and you cry weakly at how raw you feel.

You feel yourself clench around the emptiness as he eventually slides himself out of your pussy, begging him to stay. Gathering the little strength you have left, you roll yourself off of Takahiro's stomach, snorting at his dramatic inhale of breath. If you still had feeling in your arms you'd swat at him.

Issei bows to press a kiss to your cheek, leaving a hushed murmur of 'good girl' before going to dispose of the condom, Hanamaki following him into the bathroom soon after. Hajime appears at the edge of the bed in his boxers with a pint glass of water and a damp rag in his grasp. He hands the cloth to Tooru and he uses it to wipe down your stomach, apologising quietly for the mess he made, completely lacking in sincerity judging by the pleased grin on his face. Indulging yourself, you allow Hajime to tilt your chin up and help you with taking a drink, the cool liquid like balm against the rawness of your throat. He clicks his tongue.

“We got too carried away,” he murmurs, the guilt clear in his tone.

“I’m fine, Haji,” you reply. The rasp to your voice doesn’t help to convince him, but the tension in his shoulders bleeds out at the knowledge that you weren't upset.

“Post-coital cuddles are in order!” Takahiro calls out as he returns from the bathroom, still naked as the day he was born, cock soft and swaying between his thighs. Tooru glares in his direction, completely affronted.

“I never want to hear you say that again,” he grimaces. Hajime snorts in amusement, kneeling back on the bed and wrapping a strong arm around your stomach, lifting you against his chest much like he had before and sinking into the pillows resting by the headboard. You turn to tuck your face into his collar,

“Make room for us,” Hiro complains, pressing himself up against your side and latching around your middle. Issei joins without comment while Hajime extends an arm to Tooru in invitation, which he accepts with enthusiasm.

They all make sure to have a hand on some part of you, Issei rubbing your back and Hajime affectionally playing with your hair. Sleep is calling to you, but there’s the lingering of anxiety of everything left unsaid, of all the lines you'd crossed.

As if he can sense your anxiety, Oikawa squashes his cheek comically against Hajime's bicep, looking every bit exhausted as you feel. "We should do that all the time," he mumbles.

You grin, happiness and satisfaction seeping into your bones, surrounded by the men you care for the most. “Yeah,” you slur, eyes falling shut, “we should…”