#this is the first time ive worked without lines

[awrkive]

[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you. 

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, FEBRUARY 15TH | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started? 

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton. 

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are. 

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair. 

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread. 

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar. 

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes. 

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice. 

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.” 

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab. 

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.” 

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee. 

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent. 

Most especially when it comes to annoying you. 

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you. 

“Did you know that—” 

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god— 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—” 

“—we’re like parallel lines?” 

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay. 

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head. 

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.” 

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it. 

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive. 

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again. 

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing. 

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.” 

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.” 

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings. 

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute. 

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself. 

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks. 

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am. 

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle. 

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips. 

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back. 

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger. 

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar. 

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction. 

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile. 

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle. 

His day is already off to a good start.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2025. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and/or translating any of my works are not allowed.

[thesnarkyarthive]

Woe, ponie be upon ye

Marble Dough! My unicorn baker.

Though I've designed many ponies, they've always been my go-to for ponysona work.

I like the unicorns with beards and long tails it makes em look funky. I need to colour that Twilight Sparkle design I did...

[lorillee]

im really normal about them <- lie

[zannolin]

real talk i actually do put like. an unreasonable amount of effort into my textpost memes behind the scenes so it's actually really rewarding to get to share them thanks for putting up with my antics

[waywardsalt]

fuck it, unedited snippet from an early early post-ph scene i decided to write one night

[munch-mumbles]

ive been a little upset about it all night so i need to write out all the things that happened at work today and are bugging me so i can TRY to get it out of my head and actually RELAX bc i just keep pacing in circles around it instead of just accepting it and moving on

[chisungie]

.

[alchemiclee]

as a fellow introvert; we are social creatures. introverts who purposefully see no one for months on end are usually just in a cycle where its been so long since they’ve hung out that it’s too intimidating for them to do anymore. i 100% feel tired after hanging out with my friends but i DO also feel happy and refreshed! tl;dr - you’re super normal lol. try to reach out to a couple people just to chat this week <3

thanks for reaching out I really appreciate it❤️ but I have to rant a bit. I allow you to ignore it!

I wish to not be a social creature because going too long without having a friend to talk to or not having someone to talk with almost daily feels bad and it's so hard to have a friend when I need one D:

i've been reaching out to people for the last few weeks or so but they don't reach back. try playing games with people but they play with their other friends or dont feel like playing. invite people to hang out but they say maybe and never give an answer or don't respond.

I don't want to bother my closest friends in our group chat too much in our group chat but the chat is mostly me sending messages with no response and even couple times saying I need a friend when I was having bad days but they didn't want to chat and I dont want to force anyone to entertain my lonely depressed ass. (especially when all I really needed was to talk about the new star rail stuff to distract me but I don't think they've finished it yet so I don't want to spoil) they live together so they always have to socialize and probably make each other tired without needing to add me to it.

so i've also been trying to reach out to new people, like joining twitch chats again for the first time in years. but that never goes well and doesn't satisfy my social needs. too many people talking at once and being the new person no one cares about and all....getting to know a new is very exhausting. but it's so hard to just be able to skip all that getting to know each other stuff jump straight into talking about a thing we both like (in this case it's star rail and cosplay and maybe art) I don't have enough already-known people to reach out to and i'm too tired to do the small talk dance until it's appropriate to jump into special interest territory. being autistic is so exhausting. I with to be one of those rare autistics I sometimes hear about that have 0 interest in social interaction at all

so as you can see, i'm trying. so hard. to the point I'm exhausting myself. it's been too much work for no payoff and makes things feel worse when the outcome isn't what I need and its constant reaching with no one grabbing my hand back. so I keep making annoying tumblr posts about it. i'm so sorry to anyone that reads my nonsense 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this is a normal thing with me but it's usually kept to my other blog that's reserved for more serious posts like this but I tried posting here as a way to "reach out" and see if it invites any friendly friends or something but I don't think i'm doing it right...

(but I am going to a con tomorrow with someone I haven't talked to in like 2 years. but we don't have anything in common anymore so theres not much to talk about. he's the only person who responded to me after trying to reach out for like a month but I fear it will only exhaust me being around too many people and not help this gross need to have a deeper connecting socialization D:)

[beloveds-embrace]

OK IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE

so I keep seeing these ads for “pheromone perfume” pop up. the women in who advertise it say that it makes men go crazy, it smells amazing, they can’t get their bfs off of them whenever they put it on (and usually they put it on and then set up the camera and wait for their significant other to walk in the room and react to it)

and every time I see one of those ads, I think of designationless reader.

idk if that’s something they’d ever do, but I feel like it would be interesting for them to dab some of it on their wrists and behind their ears, as well as where their scent glands are and see how the guys react to it 🤭🤭

Anon i love you and I am smooching your brain so hard rn

The idea had been simmering in your mind for weeks, born from the endless pheromone perfume ads that flooded your late-night scrolling. People with bright smiles swore their perfumes were magic, capable of driving their partners wild with desire. But you weren’t like those people. You had no designation, no scent, no pheromones to speak of-

The ads made you feel like an outsider all over again. But they also left you wondering- what if there was a way to bridge that gap, just a little?

That’s how you found yourself at a specialized lab, the kind that catered to people willing to spend a small fortune for something deeply personal. It wasn’t easy. The process was invasive, awkward, and expensive. The technicians had taken a lot of samples of your body- skin oils, sweat, saliva- examining them under microscopes, running them through machines you didn’t understand, distilling your very essence into a single vial of concentrated potential.

When you walked out with the tiny glass bottle, your wallet was lighter, and your chest was tight with nerves.

What if this didn’t work?

What if it did?

Being scentless had always set you apart, a quiet absence in a world built on pheromones and instinct. You didn’t have the alluring pull of an omega’s sweetness or the steady, grounding weight of a beta’s calm. And you certainly didn’t have the commanding presence of an alpha’s dominance.

You were… nothing.

Not that your pack ever made you feel that way. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz treated you like you hung the moon, their affection constant and overwhelming. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, you wondered what it would be like if you could scent them. If you could mark them the way they marked you. If you could pull them closer without relying on their instincts to protect what was theirs.

You’d dabbed the finished product on experimentally: just behind your ears, at the base of your throat, and along the faint line of your collarbone. You added drops to your wrists and even a little over your faulty scent glands, though you weren’t sure why. It had no scent for you, and you were almost worried that they might have scammed you.

But their reactions convinced you otherwise.

The moment he walked into the common area, his steps faltered. His broad shoulders stiffened, and his blue eyes sharpened, narrowing as if sensing something just out of reach. He sniffed once, subtly at first, but then again, deeper, his nostrils flaring, and his hands flexed at his sides.

“Something’s… different.” He muttered, almost to himself, but his voice was low enough to send a shiver through you.

“Something wrong, Cap?” You asked innocently, feigning ignorance as Soap entered behind him.

Soap stopped in his tracks, bright demeanor dimming as his eyes zeroed in on you. His head tilted, his mouth parting slightly as he breathed in deeply. “Lass,” he murmured, soft and careful. “What are you wearin’?”

“Clothes? What else would I be wearing, Soap?” You replied, voice dry just enough to be convincing. You raised an eyebrow, then, and crossed your arms. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Gaz appeared next, his movements slower than usual as he approached. Dark eyes narrowed, his focus razor-sharp as his body tensed. He didn’t speak immediately; instead, he circled you slightly, his hands twitching like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know where to start.

Ghost entered last, his imposing frame cutting through the room’s tension like a blade. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask, didn’t even hesitate. He simply stopped in front of you, his chest rising and falling steadily as his head dipped slightly, his masked face inches from yours. His gloved hands found your waist, and a low growl rumbled in his chest as he inhaled deeply.

“What?” you asked again, blinking at them with wide eyes, your voice lilting with carefully curated confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Price stepped closer as well, his boots heavy against the floor as he studied you. “You smell… different, love.” He said, voice like the distant rumble of thunder.

“Different how?” you asked, biting back a smile.

Johnny couldn’t hold himself back from you any longer, his hands sliding over your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck. He let out a low hum, his warm breath skimming your skin. “Christ,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your throat, “you smell good. Like somethin’ I can’t quite place.”

Gaz knelt at your side, his hands wrapping around your wrists. He brought one up to his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin. “Sweet,” he murmured softly. “Warm, like you’ve been wrapped in sunlight.”

Ghost growled again, deeper this time, the sound vibrating through his chest as his gloved fingers tightened on your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his masked face against the other side of your neck, and the rumble in his throat sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sell the performance. “I didn’t do anything.”

But the pack wasn’t buying it.

Price’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face up. Piercing blue eyes searched yours. “You sure about that, love?” he asked, a low grumble that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

Soap pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his teeth grazing the skin lightly as his hands slid beneath your shirt. “Disnnae matter,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and something more primal, more hungry. “Whatever it is, it suits you.”

Gaz hummed in agreement, his lips trailing up the inside of your wrist to the sensitive skin of your palm. “Feels like it’s everywhere,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “Can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you, dove.”

Ghost was silent, but his actions spoke louder than words. He lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the edge of the table with a deliberate slowness that made your heart race. His hands found your thighs, his grip firm but gentle as he leaned in, his masked face pressing against your stomach. The low growl in his chest deepened, a possessive sound that sent a thrill through you.

They were relentless after that.

John claimed your lips, firm and demanding, his hands cupping the back of your neck as he tilted your head back. Soap followed, his kisses trailing along your jaw and down your throat, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that made you shiver.

Gaz and Simon kissed the inside of your thighs, their teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as theirs hands held you steady and open, all theirs.

“Perfect girl,” Simon groaned against the back of your thighs, thick fingers digging into your skin. “Ours. Whatever you’d done- you don’t need it. You’ll always be ours.”

Hours passed in a haze of touch and heat, their attention unyielding as they marked every inch of you as their own. They murmured about your scent between kisses, their words a mix of worship and devotion. You played your part perfectly, letting soft, breathless sounds escape your lips as you clung to them, your innocence a carefully crafted mask.

By the time they were done with you, your were very sure they had rubbed off all the perfume off your body, and covered you with their own scents.

When they finally pulled back, in the nest, their bodies heavy with satisfaction, Price cupped your cheek with gaze still burning with intensity. “You don’t need anything to make us want you,” he said, low but steady. He stared straight at you, so that you would not have any reasons to doubt his words. “You’re already perfect.”

You smiled, letting the words wash over you, but said nothing. Your secret was safe, for now.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

two of the transfems youre friends with have been talking to you about the clinic they got their bottom surgery done at. apparently its dirt cheap, and the surgeon - despite some oddities and, your friends admit, poor hygiene - is incredibly talented. theyre more than happy to give you her phone number when you ask, and while it sounds simultaneously incredibly sketchy and way too good to be true, at this point youre just so broke, desperate, and tired of gatekeepers that you're willing to give it a shot.

you call on a thursday afternoon, and the call is picked up on the fourth ring, when youre just gearing up to hear an answering machine. the voice on the other end sounds like a middle-aged woman with a smoking habit trying to sound like a cheery, bubbly young girl, and mostly succeeding. hiiiii! what can i do for you? she asks. you say er im looking for a surgical clinic is this the right number? she says mhm! thats me. you say okay, i just have a few questions. she says shoot. you say do you take patients who arent referred to you? she says nobody refers patients to me so yes. then she giggles. youve never heard somebody pull off a giggle in real life. you ask okay, so ive been looking for a place to get my metoidoplasty done, can you do that here? she says i dont know what that is give me like five seconds. then the line goes silent. you can hear her typing on a mechanical keyboard and humming to herself as she reads. youre now convinced that this is not in any way a legitimate medical institution.

youre about to hang up when she comes back on the line. OH you need a dick she says. sure i can do that! does tuesday afternoon work for you? i have that morning free too but i HATE getting up in the mornings so id rather not schedule it if i have to. you say tuesday afternoon is fine, how long should i expect the visit to be? she says i dont know like seven hours? you say seven hours? she says yeah give or take a few, every person is different so i dont know what itll be like until ive got your cunt opened up. honestly probably best to take the whole day off just in case it turns out to be a tough operation. you dont respond to that immediately. she says oh shoot should i not use the word cunt, is that too gendered? sorry. you say no its fine. you say i thought i was just going in for a consult? she says i mean yeah if youd rather. i dont mind doing same-day but some people like having more time to think about their options. do you have somewhere to be tuesday night or something? you say no its just... no tuesday afternoon should be fine. she says okay great!

she gives you her address. she says knock three times so i know its you and not my parole officer. parole officer you ask? she says im being good i promise but i still hate talking to him hes boring. you say if you dont mind me asking what were you imprisoned for? she says the ones i plead guilty to at the trial were a hundred and ninety-two counts of first-degree murder with a parahuman ability, two hundred and fifty-six counts of physical and emotional torture with a parahuman ability, five hundred and six counts of intentional infliction of emotional distress with a parahuman ability, four hundred ninety-eight counts of aggravated assault and battery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty five counts of domestic terrorism with a parahuman ability and two hundred and twelve counts without, three counts of arson, two hundred forty two counts of burglary with a parahuman ability, three hundred eight four counts of robbery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty seven counts of abduction with a parahuman ability, a hundred eighty six counts of human trafficking with a parahuman ability, three hundred ninety counts of destruction of public property with a parahuman ability, eighty counts of possession of a controlled substance, more than three thousand conspiracy and complicity charges in various felonies, eighteen violations of the Geneva Conventions, and the unauthorized practice of medicine. i plead not guilty to the larceny, sexual assault, contempt of court, corporate espionage, and identity theft charges and the prosecutor didnt really try to fight it since i had already earned seventy life sentences from the other stuff so im technically innocent of those.

you dont say anything to that.

after three seconds of silence she says sooooooooo i'll see you tuesday? you say tuesday, yeah. what was your name again? Riley, she says. Riley Grace Davis. you say thanks again and then hang up.

you debate constantly during the intervening days whether you should go on tuesday. youre grateful your friend group is so slutty; it means youve already seen with your own eyes that this surgery is real and not just a lure to murder you. still, you have some reservations, which you think is perfectly understandable.

you call one of your friends whos been there already. she picks up and you say if this is a joke its only sort of funny. she says if whats a joke? you say the clinic. you say you DID give me the actual number to the place where you actually had your bottom surgery done right? she says yeah, dont worry the surgeons so sweet. you say she admitted to doing two hundred murders when she was on the phone. she says i dont know anything about that but i trust her. you say if i end up dead, kidnapped, or mutilated, its your fault. she says dont worry about it.

tuesday comes. you never agreed to an exact time so you show up as early as you can and still have it be "afternoon" in your mind - 12:30. you climb the rusted fire escape to the third floor door and knock three times. the door is answered by a woman six feet tall in casual but very nice clothes with frizzy brown hair and an expression you cant read. you say er, riley? she says nope. another girl pushes past her, exasperated. she's maybe five foot two and her wavy blonde hair is worn down, with a red bow in it. she's wearing torn jeans - naturally torn, not the sort that you buy with holes in them that youve always hated but the kind that were once normal jeans and now have worn through much of the fabric on the knees. her tshirt is faded and has stains that you cant quite place on it, but youre pretty sure it was once Eidolon merchandise.

she says damnit amy let me answer the door next time. the taller woman, amy apparently, shrugs and steps aside to let you in riley claps her hands together once youre inside and the door is shut. introductions! she shouts. amy, this is, er... I never actually got your name? you tell them your name. she says right! hes one of my clients. and this is Amy, my sister. dont worry about her, shes just a little awkward. amy says can you PLEASE not introduce me as your sister. riley says make me. then she grabs amys shirt and pulls her down, standing on her tiptoes at the same time. they kiss in a very un-sisterly way. you clear your throat politely.

riley breaks away and says right, yeah, sorry! i get distracted easy. youre here to get a dick right. you splutter a bit, both at the bluntness of the question and the fact that amy is still standing right there. riley follows your gaze. she says oh dont worry about her! sorry, i wouldve run her off earlier, i thought you wouldnt come by for another few hours. you say sorry. she says dont worry, its her fault. amy says you didnt tell me you had a client. riley says you didnt ASK. you clear your throat politely again. you say er yes, i did come in for metoidoplasty. she bites her lip and furrows her brow. she says metoido... oh right. well i dont really do that here but i can give you a dick. you say uh im not really interested in phalloplasty. she says whats phalloplasty? amy says its the construction of a penis, usually via tissue flap taken from another part of the body, often followed by the insertion of prosthetics to allow the constructed penis to achieve erection. riley says oh, huh. yeah i dont do that either. i can give you a dick though. she takes a second then puts on an exaggerated scowl. who would want that she asks? amy says lots of people prefer it to metoido for aesthetic reasons or because they dont think theyll be large enough for penetrative sex with metoido. riley says but it wouldnt feel like a dick! man, some surgeons are talentless hacks.

you clear your throat again. you say so if youre- riley says youre clearing your throat a lot, are you okay? you say im fine, its just- she says oh duh were being so rude! why are we all standing around here. come sit down in the living room, do you want anything to drink? she leads you into the living room. it has the unmistakable air of a room thats been cleaned recently, with vacuuming marks present in the carpet and the unmistakable scent of air freshener. the sofa that you're gestured to sit on is, by contrast, unbelievably filthy. stains of every sort are visible on it - some of them are obvious, like the patches of blood and vomit or the ring of a coffee mug. others take you a second to place, like the crusty streak along one cushion that you realize all at once is semen, or the sticky yellow parts that you hope to god are honey. some of them, like the muddy green handprint along one arm of the sofa or the deep black smudge along a seat, are completely foreign to you. you can smell it from several feet away.

amy notices your hesitancy. she says i keep telling her to throw that thing out. riley says and i keep telling HER that its a relic from earth bet! its an antique and itll be worth millions soon. it just needs a good deep cleaning. amy says what that sofa needs is a bullet, not a deep clean. you sit down. drink? riley asks. you say er what do you have? she says water, diet coke, vodka, coffee. no more beer though, SOMEBODY drank the last one. amy says you never said they were off limits! riley says they arent, im just teasing. you say waters fine. riley says aaaaaaaaaamyyyyyyy, could you pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase go get our guest a glass of water and me a diet coke? oh and can you grab the pill bottle on the second shelf of the spice cabinet. amy says sure, i'll be right back.

riley sits down next to you. she says sooooooo what do you want for your dick? you say sorry, if youre not doing phallo or metoido then what exactly are you offering? she says no offense but it would take like literally eight years to give you enough background info for you to understand my explanation, and i dont have that kind of time. im not getting any younger. except for when i am. she laughs louder than you thought a human could. you have no idea how to describe the sound of her laughter. she says just tell me about your dream dick and ill give it to you. trust me, im a doctor.

except that youre not, amy says, returning with glasses and pills in hand. she sets the water down in front of you and you immediately take large gulps, feeling very much lost right now. riley says am TOO, accepting the pill bottle and diet coke from amy. she frowns. why is it can diet coke, she asks? she says glass bottle is so much better. she says why did i even BUY can. amy says they are literally the same liquid, what do you mean its better. riley says theyre not the same, stop deluding yourself. amy says which of us is the REAL doctor? riley says both of us! the PRT finally issued me an equivalency. youre talking to doctor riley davis, MED. amy says oh really? congrats she says. riley beams. then she unscrews the lid of the unlabeled, dark brown glass bottle, grabs three pills, and pops them into her mouth.

what is that you ask. ectasy she says. you want some? you say no thanks. she says you sure? you say i probably shouldnt take drugs before an operation, what if it interacts with the anesthetic? riley says dont worry, i made my own anesthetic that has zero drug-drug interactions. amy says except with sudafed. riley says ok YEAH except with sudafed, how was i supposed to know? she glances at you. you dont take sudafed do you she asks. you say no. she says good. it was such a bitch cleaning the pus off the ceiling she says. you say huh? she says dont worry about it, you dont take sudafed. she says are you sure you dont want any ecstasy? i promise its pure. you say i dont want to get addicted. she says i can surgically remove the addiction pathway from your brain if that would help. amy says riley, no means no. riley says fine. do you want any ecstasy babe? she says no thanks. riley frowns. she says you guys are a bunch of squares. she pops a fourth one and starts chugging diet coke.

she slams the can down after drinking what must be half of it, wipes her mouth with her arm and grins. sorry, we keep getting distracted! she says. she says im getting into the start of a manic episode and that always makes me roll right over people in conversation. what do you want for your dick? you say um. i hadnt really thought about it. its not normally a choice beyond the type of surgery, you sort of just end up with whatever the doctors are able to make work? thats lame she says. why are normal doctors all so lame she says. ok, rude amy says. OBVIOUSLY im not talking about you babe riley says. and stop distracting me from my client! amy holds up her hands in mock surrender, an easy smile on her face.

you didnt bring a toy with you did you, riley asks. you say huh. she says sometimes people bring a toy that they want me to model it after and that makes everything a lot easier. you say no you didn't. you say i hadn't really thought about my preferences, can we go dealer's choice on this? amy pipes up. she says you REALLY dont want riley to go dealers choice. riley says shut up and get me another diet coke, i just finished this one. amy says yes princess. you honestly cant read whether it was meant to be mocking or endearing. riley turns back to you. ok, she says, lets start with basics. primate? canid? equine? suine? dolphin? i could give you a hyena pseudopenis but i dont know if that would be offensive. you say human is fine. she says please dont tell me you're gonna just be boring this whole time. you say define boring. she sighs deeply and starts massaging her temples. amy, having stepped into the room in time to hear the last bit of conversation, tousles rileys hair. she says sorry babe, customer's always right.

you work out the appearance of your soon-to-exist cock this way. riley asks questions about length, girth, hair, amount of semen generated, percentage growth when erect, and you try to give what you think are average answers every time. amy watches, bemused, the whole time. halfway through she leaves to get the bottle of vodka. she drinks five shots in fifteen minutes. you say i didnt think the human body had that much capacity for alcohol resistance. she says it doesnt. riley swats playfully at her arm.

eventually, riley grabs a set of crayons and a cocktail napkin. she says ok, i think we got it, scribbling furiously. she shows you a crayon drawing of a dick. this look good she asks? you squint at it. there are no measurements given and the medium does not allow you to make out any fine detail. you say yeah thats fine. amy tries and fails to hide a smile. riley chucks the napkin aside and rubs her hands together. boring parts done! she says. time to get messy she says. amy pours a sixth shot of vodka. she says dont forget the anesthetic first. riley rolls her eyes. she says OBVIOUSLY i didnt forget the anesthetic. she says ill be right back. as soon as she leaves the room, amy knocks back her shot. she turns to you. she says you mind if i stay and watch? she says i dont want to make you uncomfortable, but i like watching her work. shes cute when shes working. you say at this point youre not sure you would mind anything at all. you say at this point you dont think you would be fazed if she came back with a fully-formed dick wriggling around in her hand like a fish and sewed it onto me. she says dont tempt fate.

riley comes back with a black bag the size of her head, which she sets on the coffee table with a thunk. she points at you and says okay, clothes off. or pants off i guess. you can leave the shirt on. or take it off. i dont care. you take it off. she tells you to lie down and starts pulling things out of the bag. amy stands up from the sofa to give you the space to stretch out and sits on the coffee table instead, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on her knee.

riley pulls out a syringe from the bag, filled with pitch-black fluid. she says okay this will hurt for a second but only for a second. you say huh? she flips you over onto your belly and jabs the needle against your lower back, into your spinal column. it hurts like a bitch for all of two seconds and then you stop feeling anything at all in your lower body. you also cant move your legs, you realize. what just happened you ask, as she flips you onto your back again. she says i just killed all the cells in the nerves in your lower spine. she says its the easiest way to make sure none of the pain signals slip through, and she'll just replace them with living ones when she's done. you don't know how to respond to that.

she pulls more things out of the bag. a cartoonish array of different cutting implements come out. most of them are various sizes of medical scalpel, ring cutter, or saw, but you also see a pair of chunky pink safety scissors, a pizza cutter, a serrated bread knife, an x-acto, a drill with a comically long bit, a pair of wire cutters, gardening shears, and an awl. she says okay im gonna start operating so look away if you dont wanna see how your crotch looks while its being rearranged. especially if you think you might puke, i hate having to stop to clean up puke in the middle of surgery. you look away. you notice amy is watching transfixed.

for a couple of hours things go on like that. amy and riley make light conversation, with riley filling any silence by humming a wordless tune you dont know. the sounds and smells youre getting are enough to make you slightly sick; you continue not looking.

in the middle of hour two, riley stops. oh goddamnit, she says. what amy asks? riley says she forgot that shed need extra meat. amy says you started a surgery to give somebody a whole new organ and forgot youd need more tissue to do it? riley says shut up, im dumb. amy says no youre not babe. riley says ughhhhh now what. amy says just get his stem cells to grow the tissue you need. riley says nooooooo thatll take forever, and i have places to BE tomorrow, and if i stop putting pressure on him here hes going to bleed out through his cunt. you say wait, what? amy says well i dont know what you want me to do about this situation, i gave you my solution. riley says baaaaaaaaaaabe. amy says whaaaaaaaaaaaat. riley says i think we have some bacon in the fridge, will you pretty please with sprinkles on top go get it? amy says and what do i get in return? riley says a kiss. amy says id get that anyway. riley says my undying love and affection. amy says i have that already. riley says not making me angry at you so you can sleep under my roof without having to worry that ill turn your sweat glands into acid glands in the middle of the night. amy says that, plus i get to top tonight. riley says fiiiiiiiiine, just go get the bacon. amy gets up.

you say look uh i know you said not to question what youre doing but i kind of dont want a dick made of bacon, not to sound ungrateful. also did you say something about me bleeding out? riley says dont worry, if you bleed out ill put the blood back in, im a professional. you say thats not as reassuring as she thinks it is. riley says whos the doctor, mister? you say technically both of us. i have a phd in social sciences you say. she says wow, theyre just giving out doctorates for anything these days, huh? you say hey, rude. she says only teasing. you say anyway, uh, you didnt address the bacon dick thing? she says oh dont worry about it, my amys amazing, youll see.

amy comes back in with the package of bacon. do you need this in any particular shape she asks. riley says nah just give me a good amount of it. and make sure its spongy, so when he gets hard the blood can- amy cuts her off. she says dont worry, ive given you enough penises at this point that i think i know what penile tissue is like at this point. you say given her enough penises? what the hell does that mean? riley says hey, dont kinkshame! she sounds legitimately offended. you say sorry. amy pulls the bacon out of the package, holding it aloft in her left hand. you watch as the familiar look of a half-pound of bacon shifts and warps into a strange lump of fatty, spongy tissue of a waxy color. she hands it to riley. riley says thanks sis youre the best, love you! amy says no problem. riley says id kiss you if i wasnt elbow deep in this guys cunt right now. amy says kiss me after the surgerys done.

another two hours go by. the sounds of flesh being chopped, sawed, and stitched underscore riley and amys meaningless conversation about whether they HAVE to attend their acquaintance lisa's birthday party. riley says lisa probably wouldn't throw a birthday party if there wasn't some sort of scheme going on. amy agrees but says that doesnt indicate whether they should get involved with the scheme or not. you wonder dimly if you will ever feel your lower body again. you wonder if this is purgatory, an endless afternoon of lesbians bickering affectionately while one of them does surgery on you. you turn your head enough to look at the clock. its 5:26pm. where the fuck did the time go?

another hour passes. riley stands up. she is soaked up to her elbow in various bodily fluids - mostly blood, but youre not looking too closely. she says finally! she says just need to regrow your nerve cells now. you say is that going to take long? she says like twenty minutes maybe as she flips you over. you say ok. she jams a different needle into the same spot, injecting a strange yellow paste into your spine. she then flips you onto your back again. you feel brave enough to finally look at your crotch.

there is a completely normal human penis of average size there. you reach a hand down and touch it. you dont have any sensation in it yet since your nerves are all still dead, but it feels warm and soft under your hands. you smile, feeling tears come to your eyes. its over.

rileys talking. she says i followed your specifications except i had to cheat a bit on the nerves, you actually didnt have very many in your clit for whatever reason so your glans has maybe eight thousand fewer nerves than you wanted, sorry about that. she says i gave you balls in your scrotum for shape but since you said you didnt want kids they dont produce sperm. let me know if you want that changed she says. she says it should be fully functional in every respect, but if you notice any erectile dysfunction, incontinence, discoloration in urine or semen, priapism, or any other issue come back and we'll sort it out. if you notice it bleeding in ANY capacity, call me immediately. if im not answering call Amy, ill give you her number. if SHES not answering either then you can start seeing normal doctors, not that those idiots will know how to help you probably. if you want any changes to it call me and ill pencil you in to get it adjusted. get all that she asks. you nod. she says cool. she says itll be like $200, no rush if youre not able to pay right now. you say it might be a bit since youre still trying to pay interest on your student loan debt. wait, she says, they have student loans again? you nod. she says the world ended like thirty years ago, when did they set up student loans again? fuck, how much do you owe? you say a little under eighty thousand. she says jesus fuck, nevermind, its free. goddamn. you say thank you so much. she says yeah of course. do you want us to dress you or do you want to wait until you can move and do it yourself?

[manmuncher777]

HANDY MAN

Neighbour!nanami x reader

18+ SMUT - name calling, degradation, thirst, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, spanking.

- You offer nanami dinner as a thank you for all his help, but when the tension builds, dinner takes an unexpected turn..

A/n - my babies, I couldn’t be more thankful for all the love on my recent posts!!! Ive just hit 500 followers, I love that 500 of you lovely people took the time to follow me. So please take this offering as a thank you!! I hope you love it as much as I do, and please remember JJK/AOT REQS ARE OPEN!! Like seriously give me stuff to write before I tweak out

Nanami Kento was the perfect neighbor. The kind of man who never forgot to return a borrowed tool, who held the elevator door even if he was in a hurry, and who always offered a polite nod and quiet “good evening” when you crossed paths in the hallway. Reliable, considerate, and so steady it was almost maddening.

You’d noticed him the day you moved in—how could you not? Tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet authority that made your stomach do somersaults every time he so much as glanced your way. But he was polite to a fault, never lingering too long in conversation, never crossing the line between friendly and personal.

Until the day your radiator broke.

You’d knocked on his door hesitantly, clutching a screwdriver you had no idea how to use and praying he wouldn’t think you were an absolute idiot. He’d answered almost immediately, sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that looked like they could fix a lot more than just a radiator. You’d stumbled through your explanation, cheeks heating as you fumbled for the right words, but he’d only nodded, grabbed his toolbox, and followed you into your apartment without a second thought.

That was months ago. Since then, Nanami had become a quiet but consistent fixture in your life. A leaking faucet, a flickering lightbulb, a misaligned cabinet door—he handled them all with a calm efficiency that made you feel both grateful and hopelessly incompetent.

You’d offered to pay him, of course, but he’d waved it off with a dismissive hand. "It’s nothing," he’d said, his tone as smooth as his tie. "Just let me know if you need anything else."

And you had. Often.

You’d started baking for him as a way to say thank you. Cookies, muffins, the occasional pie—anything to feel like you were contributing something to the arrangement. He never complained, though you’d caught the ghost of a smile on his lips when you handed over a batch of freshly made banana bread last week.

Now, as you stood in your kitchen staring at the cursed garbage disposal that had decided to stop working, you couldn’t help but sigh. Your first instinct was to call the building maintenance, but the thought of a stranger rooting around in your sink made your skin crawl. You didn’t trust anyone else with your space—or, let’s face it, your dignity.

Your feet carried you to his front door almost automatically, and before you could overthink it, you knocked.

The door opened after a brief pause, and there he was, Nanami Kento in all his quiet, unflappable glory. He was dressed casually for once, a simple sweater that somehow still clung to his broad chest in a way that made your throat go dry. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his hand through it, and he had the faintest shadow of stubble along his jawline.

"Good evening," he greeted, his voice deep and even, like the kind of bass that you felt in your chest more than you heard with your ears. "Do you need help with something?"

You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. "Uh, yeah. It’s the garbage disposal this time. I think I might have broken it."

He gave a slight chuckle—so slight you almost missed it—but there was no judgment in his gaze, only patience. "Let me grab my toolbox."

As he disappeared back into his apartment, you leaned against the doorframe and took a steadying breath. You’d grown used to his presence over the past few months, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still have the ability to set your pulse racing with a single look.

When he returned, toolbox in hand, he nodded toward your apartment. "Shall we?"

You stepped aside to let him in, watching as he made his way to your kitchen with the ease of someone who’d been there a hundred times before. You couldn’t help but notice the way his sweater stretched across his back as he bent over the sink, the muscles in his shoulders shifting under the fabric.

"You really don’t have to keep doing this," you said, leaning against the counter as he assessed the situation. "I feel bad always bothering you."

He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing slightly. "It’s no bother," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Besides, I’d rather help than have you try to fix it yourself and make it worse."

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "I’m not that bad."

He turned back to the sink, but you caught the faintest twitch of his lips. "Of course not," he said dryly, reaching into the disposal with a confidence that made you feel completely out of your league.

As he worked, you found yourself watching him—really watching him. The way his hands moved with precision, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his sleeves slid up just enough to reveal the corded strength of his forearms.

"Everything okay?" he asked, not looking up, but his voice carried a note of amusement that made your cheeks heat.

"Yeah, fine," you said quickly, tearing your eyes away and busying yourself with tidying the counter. But your mind was already racing, the domestic ease of the moment mixing with the low, steady tension that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was around

Cooking dinner has always been your escape, a way to unwind and lose yourself in the simple rhythm of chopping, stirring, and seasoning. Tonight’s meal smells divine—garlic, ginger, and soy sauce melding together in a sizzling pan of vegetables and noodles. You hum along to the low music playing from your speaker, entirely at ease as you finish plating the food.

But as you start washing up, the peaceful evening takes a turn.

The faucet groans, sputters, and then sprays a rogue jet of water that soaks your shirt. You jump back with a startled yelp, frantically twisting the knobs to no avail. Water drips steadily, mockingly, pooling around the base of the sink.

You let out a defeated sigh, leaning against the counter and glaring at the offending fixture. There’s only one solution—and only one person who comes to mind.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll to his name. Nanami Kento. The calm, reliable neighbor who’s been your go-to for everything from fixing a squeaky door to assembling your bookshelf. He’s the epitome of a gentleman, always courteous and collected, but beneath his polite demeanor is a man who’s effortlessly, almost devastatingly attractive.

Your thumb hovers over the call button for a moment. It’s late, and you hate to bother him again, but you know he won’t mind. Nanami never minds.

The phone barely rings twice before his deep, steady voice answers. “Hello?”

“Hi, Nanami,” you say, trying not to sound too frazzled. “I, uh… I hate to bother you, but my sink is leaking. It’s kind of a mess, and I have no idea what to do.”

There’s a soft sigh on the other end, one you can almost picture paired with the slight shake of his head. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, relief washing over you.

True to his word, there’s a knock at your door less than five minutes later. When you open it, you’re greeted by the sight of him: sleeves rolled up to his elbows, toolbox in hand, and an expression of calm determination on his face.

“Good evening,” he says simply, stepping inside with an easy confidence that immediately puts you at ease.

You lead him to the kitchen, gesturing sheepishly at the sink. “It’s, uh, doing that thing again. I tried turning the knobs, but…”

“I see.” Nanami sets his toolbox down, crouching beside the sink to inspect the damage. His large frame fills the small kitchen, and you can’t help but notice the way his broad shoulders flex beneath the fabric of his shirt as he moves.

You try not to stare, busying yourself with wiping down the already-clean counter. But your gaze keeps wandering—trailing over the defined line of his jaw, the way his golden hair falls slightly out of place as he leans closer to the pipes. His hands, large and strong, move with precise efficiency, wielding tools like an extension of himself.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says after a moment, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “It’s worse than last time. Did you notice the dripping earlier, or did it start all at once?”

“Oh, um…” You blink, trying to focus. “I think it started all at once. I mean, it wasn’t doing this earlier, and then suddenly—” You gesture vaguely at the mess. “It just happened.”

Nanami hums thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration as he works. The room is quiet except for the occasional clink of tools and the steady cadence of his voice as he explains what he’s doing.

“You’ve got a loose valve here,” he says, glancing up at you. “It’s a simple fix, but if it happens again, you might want to consider replacing the whole faucet.”

You nod, biting your lip as your eyes linger on the way his forearms flex with every turn of the wrench. He looks so composed, so effortlessly capable, that you can’t help but feel a little flustered.

“Thanks for coming over so quickly,” you say, hoping to fill the silence. “I feel like I’m always calling you for something.”

Nanami glances up again, his gaze steady and warm. “It’s no trouble. I’m happy to help.”

Your cheeks heat under his attention, and you quickly turn away, pretending to fuss with a towel. “Still, I really appreciate it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He doesn’t reply immediately, but you catch the faintest flicker of a smile as he turns back to the sink. “You’d manage,” he says after a moment. “But I’m glad I can make things easier for you.”

The casual intimacy of his words sends a flutter through your chest, and you busily tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pretending you didn’t notice. But you did notice. You always notice

The minutes stretch on as he continues working, and the longer he’s there, the harder it becomes to ignore the tension humming beneath the surface. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, every quiet exhale, and the way his presence seems to fill the entire room.

By the time he finishes, your nerves are wound tight, and you’re clutching the towel in your hands like a lifeline. Nanami straightens up, rolling his sleeves back down with a practiced motion before turning to face you.

“All done,” he announces, his voice calm and steady as always.

“Thank you,” you say quickly, stepping closer. “You’re a lifesaver. Really.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, brushing his hands off on a rag. “Just a simple fix.”

“Still,” you insist, unable to stop the words from spilling out. “I feel bad that you’re always helping me out. You should let me thank you properly sometime.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “There’s no need for that.”

“I mean it,” you say, a little more boldly this time. “Next time, at least stay for dinner or something. It’s the least I can do.”

For a moment, he’s silent, his gaze fixed on yours in a way that makes your heart race. Then, finally, he nods. “All right. I’ll hold you to that.”

His words hang in the air, heavier than they should be, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more lurking beneath his calm exterior. But before you can dwell on it, he picks up his toolbox and heads for the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the air.

As Nanami finishes cleaning up, wiping his hands on a towel with practiced efficiency, you catch yourself hesitating. The kitchen feels too quiet now, the weight of his presence filling the space even though he’s barely said a word. He’s so composed, so calm, and it’s that very quiet confidence that makes your heart race.

Before you can second-guess yourself, the words spill out. “You know… I made way too much dinner tonight. Would you like to stay and have some? As a thank you?”

Nanami pauses, his towel frozen mid-air. He looks at you, his honeyed gaze unreadable for a moment before it softens. “You’re sure?” he asks, his tone polite but warm, as if he’s already guessed your answer.

“Absolutely,” you insist, gesturing toward the plates on the counter. “It’s the least I can do. And besides…” You offer a sheepish smile. “It’d be nice to have some company.”

He doesn’t make you wait long for a reply. With a small nod, he sets the towel aside. “All right. I’d be happy to join you.”

You busy yourself plating the food, trying not to overthink the fact that Nanami Kento is about to sit down at your dining table. By the time you’ve poured two glasses of wine and taken a seat, the nerves in your chest have settled into a low, thrumming buzz.

He’s sitting across from you, shoulders broad and straight even as he relaxes slightly into the chair. The glow of the overhead light catches on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the subtle curve of his lips. You take a sip of wine, more to distract yourself than anything else.

“This smells wonderful,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is smooth, steady, with a quiet sincerity that makes you feel like the effort you put into cooking was worth it.

“Thanks,” you reply, fidgeting slightly with your fork. “It’s just a stir-fry, nothing fancy.”

He raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “Don’t undersell yourself. It looks like you put a lot of care into it.”

You can feel the blush creeping up your neck, and you quickly look down at your plate. “I just like to cook,” you mumble, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered you’ve become.

But, of course, he notices.

“You’re sweet,” he says after a moment, his tone light but deliberate. “Always going out of your way to take care of people. I’ve noticed that about you.”

Your hand freezes mid-cut, and you glance up at him, unsure how to respond. The way he’s looking at you—steady, direct, but not overwhelming—makes your heart skip a beat.

“Well,” you say, attempting to deflect, “it’s the least I can do for someone who’s always fixing things around here. You’re like my personal handyman.”

Nanami chuckles softly, the sound low and warm, and you’re struck by how rare it is to hear him laugh. “I don’t mind,” he says simply. “It’s… nice, actually. Knowing I can be useful.”

“Useful?” You tilt your head, genuinely surprised. “You’re not just useful, Nanami. You’re—” You pause, searching for the right words. “You’re dependable. It’s a rare quality these days.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a quiet pride that he doesn’t vocalize but doesn’t hide either. He takes a sip of wine, and for a moment, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the tension simmering just below the surface.

“Do you always blush this easily?” he asks suddenly, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Your fork clatters against your plate, and you quickly press a hand to your cheek, which, of course, only makes the blush worse. “I—I’m not blushing,” you stammer, even though it’s a blatant lie.

Nanami leans back slightly in his chair, his gaze unwavering as he studies you. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says, his voice low and steady. “It’s charming.”

The word charming rolls off his tongue with such ease that you’re left momentarily speechless. You take another sip of wine, hoping the alcohol will calm your nerves, but it only seems to amplify the way your heart pounds in your chest.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” you accuse softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them

He raises an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Doing what?”

“Making me flustered,” you reply, refusing to meet his gaze. “You’re teasing me.”

His smile deepens, though his tone remains as gentlemanly as ever. “Am I? I didn’t realize I had that effect on you.”

You let out a huff, half-exasperated and half-embarrassed, but you can’t deny the way your pulse quickens under his attention. He’s so steady, so sure of himself, and it only makes your own nerves feel all the more pronounced.

“You’re not used to being teased, are you?” he asks, his voice softening slightly, though the teasing glint in his eyes remains.

“Not like this,” you admit quietly, fidgeting with the stem of your wine glass.

Nanami doesn’t reply immediately, but the way he looks at you—calm, steady, and undeniably masculine—speaks volumes. There’s something in his gaze that makes you feel seen, like he’s not just looking at you but through you, peeling back the layers of your carefully constructed composure.

And the worst part? You don’t mind it.

The conversation drifts into safer territory after that, but the tension lingers, crackling quietly beneath the surface. By the time you both finish eating, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s sitting, of the faint warmth radiating from his presence, and of the way your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he walked through the door.

As you stand to clear the plates, Nanami reaches out, his hand brushing against yours for just a moment. It’s such a small gesture, but the electricity it sends shooting through your veins is anything but small.

“Let me help,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

You glance up at him, and for a moment, the world seems to shrink to just the two of you. His expression is calm, his gaze unwavering, but there’s a quiet intensity in his eyes that makes it impossible to look away.

“T-Thanks,” you manage to stammer, your cheeks flushing all over again as you hand him a plate.

And just like that, you realize that dinner was only the beginning.

The rhythmic sound of water running and dishes clinking fills the air, a domestic symphony that feels oddly intimate. Nanami stands close behind you, drying the plates and bowls you pass his way, his movements steady and methodical, just like everything else about him. He’s not in a hurry; he never is, and that unshakable calm only makes your pulse race more.

You try to focus on the task at hand—the dishes, the soap, the warm water—but it’s impossible with him standing so close. His presence is magnetic, his broad shoulders and quiet strength commanding every ounce of your attention. The occasional brush of his hand against yours when he takes a dish from you feels deliberate, calculated, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

The plate in your hands is spotless by now, but you keep scrubbing, needing something to keep your hands busy. You tell yourself it’s just habit, that you’re not doing this to avoid turning around and meeting those piercing eyes of his. But then, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“You know,” he says, his tone low and tinged with amusement, “if you scrub that plate any harder, you might actually wear it down to nothing.”

You freeze, heat rushing to your face as you realize how long you’ve been working on the same plate. “I was just… making sure it’s clean,” you mumble, quickly rinsing it and passing it to him without looking up.

Nanami takes it from you, his large hand brushing against yours for just a second longer than necessary. He doesn’t say anything at first, but when you finally glance over your shoulder, you catch the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“It’s clean enough,” he says gently, his tone teasing but not unkind. “Unless you’re trying to impress someone with your dishwashing skills.”

Your breath hitches, and you quickly turn back to the sink, grabbing another dish. “I’m not trying to impress anyone,” you reply, your voice higher than you’d like.

His chuckle is soft but rich, a sound that settles in your chest and makes your heart skip. “You’re a terrible liar,” he says simply, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You grip the next dish a little too tightly, the soap making it slick in your hands. It slips, clattering against the sink with a loud clang, and you wince. Before you can recover, Nanami leans in, his chest brushing against your back as he reaches past you to steady it.

“You’re tense,” he murmurs, his voice impossibly close now, warm and steady in your ear. “Relax. It’s just dishes.”

It’s just dishes. But nothing about this moment feels casual or ordinary. His breath fans across your skin, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how close he’s standing, how solid and warm he feels behind you.

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, though the words come out weaker than you intended.

“Are you?” he asks, his tone dipping lower, and there’s a quiet challenge in his voice that makes your knees feel unsteady.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of his gaze, and instantly regret it. His eyes are locked on you, sharp and focused, but there’s something else there too—something molten and heavy that makes your pulse flutter.

“You seem a little… distracted,” he continues, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Did I do something to make you nervous?”

Your grip on the next plate tightens, and you curse yourself silently. He’s teasing you, but not in a way that feels cruel. No, it’s worse—because it feels intentional, like he’s testing you, waiting to see how far he can push before you break.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, rinsing the plate with more force than necessary.

His chuckle is quieter this time, but no less devastating. “Of course not,” he says, his voice a velvet hum that sends shivers down your spine. “You’re perfectly calm. That’s why you’ve been scrubbing the same spot for the last minute.”

Your cheeks burn, and you drop the plate into the drying rack with a little more force than necessary. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you mutter, finally turning to face him.

Nanami doesn’t even try to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. He leans back slightly, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regards you with that maddeningly calm expression. “Maybe a little,” he admits, his voice light but laced with something heavier. “It’s… endearing.”

“Endearing?” you echo, your voice higher than you’d like.

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze steady as it sweeps over you. “The way you get flustered so easily,” he explains, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “It’s… refreshing.”

You swallow hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. There’s no hiding it now—he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and the worst part is, you don’t want him to stop.

Before you can respond, he steps closer, closing the small distance between you in a way that feels both casual and deliberate. You have to tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and the sheer size of him—the breadth of his shoulders, the quiet power in the way he moves—leaves you breathless.

“You’re not used to being teased, are you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, his eyes locked on yours.

“I—” Your voice catches, and you realize too late that you’ve stepped back, your hips pressing against the edge of the counter. There’s nowhere else to go, and Nanami is still so close, his presence consuming every bit of space around you.

He leans in, just enough for you to feel the faintest brush of his breath against your skin. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his tone dipping lower, “I’ll go easy on you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest, and you can’t tell if you’re more terrified or exhilarated. All you know is that you’re standing on the edge of something, and there’s no turning back now.

The air between you is thick and suffocating, charged with something neither of you have spoken aloud but both of you feel. You’re pinned by his gaze, unable to move, unable to breathe, as if the weight of his presence alone is enough to keep you still.

Then, without warning, Nanami moves.

It happens so fast you barely register it. His large hands grip your waist, firm and unyielding, and you let out a small gasp as he lifts you as though you weigh nothing at all. In a matter of seconds, you’re perched on the counter, your legs dangling, your pulse roaring in your ears.

“Nanami—” you start, but the words are cut off the moment he steps between your legs, his hands still holding you steady, his grip both commanding and careful.

He leans in close, his face inches from yours, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. But then his lips are on yours, and the world tilts on its axis.

“Kento. Call me Kento, please”

The kiss is nothing like you’d imagined—though you’d imagined it more times than you care to admit. It’s not rushed or frantic; it’s slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that pulls every ounce of air from your lungs and leaves you clinging to him for stability. His lips are soft but firm, moving against yours with a precision that makes your head spin.

His hands shift, one sliding to the small of your back, pulling you closer, while the other cradles the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. The contrast between the strength of his grip and the tenderness of his touch is intoxicating, and you find yourself melting into him, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips. His eyes meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, but there’s a softness there too, a quiet restraint that makes your chest ache.

You swallow hard, your fingers still fisting his shirt as if letting go would send you tumbling into the abyss. “Kento, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish. His lips are on yours again, hungrier this time, and the sheer force of it leaves you breathless. His hands explore your waist, your hips, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

But even in his passion, there’s a control to him, a carefulness that speaks to his nature. He doesn’t rush or take more than you’re willing to give; he waits, letting you set the pace, letting you guide him.

Your hands slide up his chest, over the broad expanse of muscle that feels impossibly solid beneath your fingertips. You can feel the way his heart pounds beneath your palm, and the knowledge that you’re the cause of it sends a thrill through you.

When you finally break apart, both of you panting, your eyes meet again, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, almost bashful smile.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. “Me too,” you confess, your cheeks flushing with warmth.

His smile grows, and for a moment, you see a glimpse of something softer, something vulnerable in his expression. “Then let me do it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours once more.

And this time, when he kisses you, it feels like the start of something neither of you can stop

The dishes now forgotten about as Nanami presses himself between your legs, hands gripping your hips with a need. Your hands now making their way through his neat hair, pulling on the strands of gold, a few of them falling into his face. His lips pressed against yours so feverishly, this kiss was faster now, more passionate now as his hands travelled up your side, his touch burning through you skin.

Your deft fingers are toying with the hem of his shirt now, giving it a gentle tug, begging silently for him to remove it.

He breaks the kiss, and you worry you’ve taken it to far. But when you see that look on his face, his glistening lips and heaving chest you know you’re both thinking the same thing

“Do you want this?” he questions, his voice low and rough.

You couldn’t get your brain to function, too full of sinful thoughts to even produce a sentence. All you can do is nod as you stare hungrily at him, his slightly more disheveled look making him even more attractive.

“Use your words darling, I need to hear you say it.” He’s holding himself back, waiting for his chance. Trying to keep to his gentlemanly mentality, but as his eyes graze over you figure sat so prettily on that counter, he can feel it slipping.

“I want this, ken.” Your voice is hoarse from the intense kiss you just shared.

Ken.

Fuck.

God that sounded so good coming from you. He needed more

Next thing you know you feel the sharp bite of the cool wood of your kitchen table, Nanami had grabbed you, sitting you on the table as his mouth met yours again. He takes his shirt off throwing it somewhere in the room and fuck

Holy fucking fuck

You knew he was built, but oh my god.

He looked like something out of a romance novel, his tanned skin stretching beautifully over his muscles, tensing as he gripped on your body that was dwarfed by his. His forearms - the veins. His fucking abs and that delicious little trail of golden hair that started at his belly button. God you wanted to see where it went, but his trousers shielded it from view cruelly.

You could orgasm from just looking at him.

“Concentrate darling” he murmured against your lips, you could feel the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t your fault he was built like some kind of Greek god. You could only muster a moan in response. that gave him a chance to slip his tongue on your mouth.

He couldn’t believe he finally had you like this, all the times he had gone home after repairing something for you, imaging how he could bend you over that counter you were leaning against while you watched him work, imagining how you would look as he eased himself inside you. And now here you where whimpering into his kisses. Fuck he could hardly think straight. He was trying to be respectful, but it was hard when you were biting his lips after his kisses.

Your own shirt was soon to join his in being discarded somewhere in the room. His bare skin against yours felt fucking amazing, he pulled you close around him, one of his muscular arms wrapping around your back. Your tits pressed up sluttily against his chest and he could feel himself hardening at the sensation.

You made a mental note tot thank yourself for wearing a skirt this evening, giving nanami easy access to the skin underneath.

His huge hands trailed down to your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your legs spread so sweetly for his as he traced over the sensetive skin of your inner thighs, his hands teasing just like his tone as they refused to go any higher than the hem of your skirt. Just dancing at the end of the fabric.

You couldn’t stop yourself, your hand wrapping around his wrist as you pushed his hand up your skirt. He chuckled into the kiss as your eagerness.

With your legs spread so perfectly for him he was able to get a perfect view of your panties, he broke the kiss for a moment as he watched his hand bunch up the fabric of your skirt as it went further and further up your leg, stopping when he spotted the colour of your panties.

They so happened to be red, matching the beautiful floral lace material of your bra as well

Fucking hell

Of course you were wearing a matching set.

“Jesus christ sweetheart, anyone would think you’ve planned this.” He meant for his tone to be teasing, but with you silence and flushed face he knew there was some truth to this fact. God you were going to be the death of him, you were staring up at him like an angel, like you were the most innocent thing ever, but Nanami knew better.

“Shit- you did, didn’t you?” His hand was braver now, ghosting over your clothed pussy as he spoke, eyes never leaving your face. You gasped at the sensation, his touch was good, but not enough - you needed more

“Bet you’ve been breaking stuff around here huh?” Your hips bucking lightly, trying to meet his hand, to get him to apply a bit more pressure. He was lightly hovering over your clit now, he knew what he was doing to you.

“Ken-“ you went to beg him, but he cut you off. His hand pinning your hips to the table, stopping the pathetic humping.

“You naughty girl, messing around just to get me to come over.”

You were fucking gone at this point, your whole body must’ve been a shade of pink with how flustered he was making you. You never expected these sort of words to come out of his mouth, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

A sharp tug and you panties were gone, he fucking ripped them off you. You gasp as you stare at him pocketing the broken material.

“Such a dirty girl..” He trails off, entranced by the sight of your glistening cunt. His eyes were predatory, and you could see his resolve break.

His thick fingers swipe through the wetness of your folds and a echoing moan is ripped from you. He brings his fingers up, holding them in the dim light of the room as they glisten.

“So wet for your neighbour, sweetheart.” He smirks at you, fingers retreating to your begging cunt. delving through your slick folds as you can do nothing but take it, his hand still pinning any movement you attempt to make. The ease at which he was pinning you was an addition to your already fucked out brain.

His fingers quickly found your clit, drawing quick circles around the bundle or nerves. Your hands gripping at the tables edge, knuckles turning white as his movements never ceased.

His jaw tightening, god you were so fucking wet for him. Those gorgeous little whines that escaped you were noises he has only ever dreamed of. He knew he needed more immediately.

He didnt waste anytime before sinking his thick digits into you, relishing in the way your eyes shut and head dropped back, your teeth biting you lip despite the moan that sounded from you. You were wrapped so snug around him, he couldn’t stop from wondering how delicious it would feel as he slid each inch of his throbbing cock inside you.

His fingers reaching so much deeper than yours ever could, brushing against that spongey spot inside of you with each thrust, his palm pressed against you clit as he moved. You couldn’t help yourself. You reached for his muscular frame, pulling him into you as you clung into him. Your head hiding in his neck, crying out for him. Your nails digging into the muscles on his back

“F-fuck” You groaned out, you could hear the sounds you pussy was making as it greedily accepted Kento’s fingers.

“That’s it sweetheart, take it for me. Good girl” he whispers so reassuring, so sensual.

He’s only been fucking you on his fingers for a few minutes, but you could already feel your orgasm impending.

His fingers were like nothing you had ever felt before, better than any stupid toy you have bought, trying to imagine him while you were fucking yourself, better than any expensive vibrator.

“Ken-Please! Ah-‘ In that moment you didn’t know exactly what it was you were begging for, but you knew you just needed more. Your orgasm have never approached so strong before, your body tingling with excitement for the orgasm that was approaching. A smile on your fucked out face, a dry laugh interrupted by a moan. Fuck this was good.

Your manners never leaving you, even as you came on his fingers as he held you close, intense waves of pleasure wagging over your body as you shook. Even as your small frame trembled he didn’t stop, he wanted you to get the most out of how good you were feeling

“good girl” he kissed you head as your breathing started to slow, your chest heaving as you tried to suck in air. You can’t even remember the last time you had cum that hard - you don’t think you ever had.

Slowly pulling your head out of the crease of his neck, staring up at him with pure adoration in your eyes, it was enough for you to confess your love for him in that very moment. But it would be best to save that for later you thought.

“Im not finished with you yet love. Bend over this table and let me fix this leaking pussy of yours.” His voice was deep, laced with the lust that filled the air.

Without a second thought you comply, jumping down off the table, bending over. Soaked cunt on full display

Kento cursed himself mentally, it was going to be hard from holding himself back from splitting you in half. You were so good, too good. The way you listened so perfectly, and that look in your eyes after you came almost gave him a heart attack.

His warm hands tracing over the skin of your ass, kneading the plump skin between his hands. Relishing in the feeling of your perfectly soft skin. He couldn’t help and admire how perfect you looked for him.

You were practically quivering from excitement. You were so wet you were sure it was going to start leaking down your legs if ken didnt hurry up and fuck you. You let out a pathetic squeal as you heard the clinking of his belt as he finally freed himself

His throbbing cock standing tall as the rosy red tip leaked pre-cum, he didnt think he had ever been so hard before in his life. His cock begging to be shoved so deep inside of you it was making it hard for him to think straight.

You waited patiently as he lined himself up with your entrance, only to be disappointed to find he was just teasing you, he slowly drags himself through your wet fold, the stimulation wasn’t enough, but it still had you mewling for him like a bitch in heat.

Even nanami couldn’t take it much longer, watching your hips try and catch him, shuffling back in a silent beg for him to sheath himself inside you. Slowly, teasingly he slipped inside, only the first few inches. But I was enough to have you moaning out for him

“Fuck, More! Kentoooo.” You begged. It felt fucking amazing to finally have him inside, but you needed more and you weren’t feeling particularly patient about it. That delicious burn of the stretch of his girthy cock was only teasing you more. Your mind whirling with thoughts of him fucking you

Those thoughts soon silenced by a swift slap on your ass, leaving the skin blotting with shades of pink as you jolt forward at the sudden contact

“Oh? Where did your manners go pretty girl?” He smooths over the redden skin, admiring how good his handprint looked on your skin “or are you too full of cock to think?”

You’re whining underneath him now, who knew he could be so mean. You loved it. Your cock drunk brain only thinking about one thing as you tried to shimmy your hips back, forcing him further into you. Your hips stilled instantly when you recieved another slap to you ass.

“Shit! Sorry ken, please fuck me.” Much better kento thought to himself. You really needed it soon, your eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill

The golden haired man was generous enough to oblige you more polite request, slipping inside you welcoming cunt even further, balls pressing against your hips when hes finally fully inside you.

The moan that he let out was absolutely guttural, lord you felt even better than he could’ve ever imagined. He hadn’t even moved yet and you were squeezing the life out of him. And that little noise you made, he was going to be thinking about that for weeks. The way you moan so sweetly for him when he finally gives you what you want. That was something he wanted to hear every fucking day

“Good girl” praise had never sounded better than when it came from nanami, that one comment had you whole body on fire. Your tits pressed up against the hard wood of the table, hard nipples tingling against your skin.

Finally he started moving, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, before he picked up his pace, brutally thrusting himself inside your welcoming walls. It felt like he was even deeper than before, like you could feel him in your throat, not that you were complaining of course.

“So slutty for me, begging me to come over when we both knew this is what you wanted all along.” He was rambling to himself, but you were hanging on every word “Not that I care, you could break every - fuck- every piece of furniture in this house and I’d come and fix it. Just to see your face.”

God what a man, how could he be so teasing, so dirty one second. To then hit you with a sentence that had your legs and heart melting for him.

His hand gripping at your hip, while the other snuck up your back, grabbing your hair and tugging at it lightly, raising your head from the table.

He pressed himself deep into you, “you like that sweetheart huh? You like it when im sweet to you?” His movement pausing, ordering your to give him an answer

“Y-yes- Oh Fuckkkk- ken I love it” youre quivering against him once more, the sensations of your previous orgasm still lingering, intensifying ever move the man behind you was making. He seemed pleased with you answer as his hips resumed their merciless thrusting. His bulbous tip hitting that spongey part deep inside your cunt. The one that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, that familiar rising of another orgasm soon approaching

“Fuck you- haha- so perfect for me, so tight.” You were certain you might die if he kept talking to you like this, his rough voice travelling into your ears like honey. You could listen to him for hours.

“Wanted to f-fuck you for hours, but with the way your sweet little cunt is gripping me-“ hes cut off mid sentence to a deep groan. You little minx, you squeezed around him. A broken giggle leaving your lips before he fucked it away, replacing it with those moans he was so enjoying

“Fucking brat, should cum so deep in this pussy- Oh? Does my pretty girl like the sounds of that” that pathetic noise of your whimpers giving you away, shamelessly you nodded your head, you wanted nothing more than to have his cum leaking from your used hole.

You were surely going to be the death of him, so dirty. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, good because neither where you.

“Oh my- im gonna-“ You tried to get the words out, but you couldnt help but gasp as the pleasure of his cock stroking against your velvety walls

“Cum for me pretty girl.” He was fucking feral now, the noises coming for you pretty pussy, those squelches. You were fucking soaked, gripping him so tight. ”Fuck- need it, come on pretty”

It didn’t take much more than that, you were gushing all over him, juices overflowing around his cock. His eyes rolling back at the sight “Kento!” Was the only thing you could think to scream as you came.

Hips hips guiding you through the ride of your orgasm, not stopping even when your thighs were shaking. The grip he had on your hair tightening now as he chased his own orgasm. God he was amazing, almost too good. You couldn’t still yourself from the overstimulation. Squirming against him, mewling for mercy.

“I know baby, I know” he tried to soothe you, his balls tightening.

He came with a moan, your name more specifically. You had never heard anything better.

Hot spurts of cum coating your walls as his hips planted himself deep inside of your begging cunt.

You both stayed like that for a moment, his head drooping as he tried to compose himself, you panting against the table as your legs still shook.

When he was ready, he pulled out of you with a light gasp, helping you up as he carried you bridal style to your bedroom. Helping tuck you into bed after cleaning you both up

You both just lay there, basking in each other presence. His gentle kisses to your head and murmurs of sweet nothing lulled you off into one of the best sleeps of your life

You should’ve invited him over for dinner ages ago.

[syluslnd]

hiii ive been reading a bunch of your work for a while and i luv em ^^. can i ask if you could do a scenario where sylus discovers your s*lf-h*rm scars? if its too triggering you dont have to

sylus reaction to your self harm scars

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly feeling the weight of sleep slowly lift from your body.

Beside you Sylus lay quietly his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His presence was comforting and as you blinked your eyes open a soft sigh escaped your lips.

Without thinking you stretched out your arms letting your muscles wake up along with you. It was a lazy, comfortable movement, one you'd done countless times.

But this time, as you reached above your head, Sylus's gaze shifted. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating softened as he watched you. He always looked at you like that in the mornings-like he was seeing something precious, something fragile. Yet today, something was different.

As your arms stretched out the sleeves of your loose shirt slid back just for a moment revealing the faint but unmistakable lines on your wrists.

Sylus's gaze sharpened immediately. His usual calm, controlled demeanor faltered just for a second but that second was all it took for his heart to twist in his chest. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly and he stiffened beside you. His eyes flickered over the cuts-small, faint but unmistakably deliberate.

At first, his mind raced to a darker place.

Had someone hurt you? The thought was instant, primal, filling him with a flash of anger. But no-he knew that wasn't it. Sylus was nothing if not observant and as quickly as the thought came it was dismissed. This wasn't something someone else had done to you.

This was something you had done to yourself.

His stomach twisted an unfamiliar feeling of dread settling deep inside him. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what those marks meant and for the first time in a long time he felt... lost. Sylus was used to handling difficult situations, staying composed no matter what. But this? This was different.

He didn't know if he should say something. If he should bring it up. The air between you felt suddenly thick charged with something heavy and unspoken. You were still stretching lazily, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.

Sylus stared at your wrists for another beat before you lowered your arms back down, your shirt falling back into place, hiding the evidence of whatever had been going on beneath the surface. You turned toward him with a sleepy smile, your eyes half-lidded with lingering drowsiness.

"Morning" you mumbled softly, unaware of the way his gaze had hardened, how his expression had tightened for just a split second before he smoothed it over with a casual smirk.

"Morning, sweetie" he replied his voice even though there was a slight edge to it that hadn't been there before. He reached out brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, though his mind was anything but calm.

He didn't bring it up immediately. For the next few minutes he tried to act like nothing had changed like he hadn't seen what he just saw. But it was eating away at him gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Sylus wasn't one to ignore things, and certainly not when it came to you. He was always so good at teasing you pushing your buttons just enough to make you blush but this... this was different. This wasn't something he could tease away.

As you lay there beside him your head resting on his chest he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to your wrists hidden beneath the fabric now but the image of those cuts was burned into his mind. His hand resting on your arm felt the weight of every line every mark that told a story he wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Sweetie" he began, his voice unusually soft but there was a tension beneath it. You shifted slightly, tilting your head up to look at him noticing the way his brow was furrowed his usual calm expression giving way to something more serious.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice still groggy from sleep.

For a moment Sylus hesitated something uncharacteristic for him. He wasn't the type to dance around things but this felt... delicate. Like if he said the wrong thing everything might crack.

"I..." He trailed off, his hand brushing lightly over your arm, his fingers tracing the edge of your sleeve. "I noticed something. On your wrists."

Your heart skipped a beat your body tensing immediately. You knew what he was talking about and suddenly the lazy morning felt far too suffocating. The room, once warm and comfortable, now felt like a trap.

Sylus watched the way your expression shifted, how your eyes darted away from his, how your breathing grew just a little more uneven. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to stay calm, though every instinct inside him was screaming to ask, to demand answers.

"I'm not stupid, kitten" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Those aren't accidents, are they?"

You felt your throat tighten the weight of his words pressing down on you. The cuts— something you had tried so hard to keep hidden to push away-were now laid bare and Sylus, with his sharp eyes and relentless persistence, wasn't going to let this go.

"No” you whispered barely audible your voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. "They're not."

Sylus closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

When he opened them again his gaze was steady, though there was something darker behind it. "Why?" he asked, the word heavy with emotion. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

You bit your lip, tears already welling in your eyes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know..." you started, but it felt hollow, like an excuse. You knew exactly why. "It just... it helps. When everything gets too much, it's like... it's the only thing I can control."

Sylus's expression faltered his usual confidence cracking as he processed your words. He had never seen you like this-so vulnerable,so lost. You, the person who was always so bright, so full of life. The one who always smiled, always laughed, even when he teased you relentlessly.

He felt guilt settle deep in his chest. Had he missed this? Had he been so caught up in his own world, in his work, that he hadn't noticed how much you were struggling? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of helplessness he rarely felt.

"You should've told me" he said, his voice low but there was an edge of frustration in it.

Not at you but at himself. "I should've been paying more attention. I should've known something was wrong."

You shook your head quickly the tears finally spilling over as you sat up wrapping your arms around yourself as if to protect yourself from his piercing gaze. "It's not your fault, Sylus” you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want you to know. I didn't want to be a burden."

His eyes flashed with anger-again not at you but at the situation. "A burden?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "You think you're a burden to me?"

You flinched slightly at his words, and he immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. He reached out, his hand resting on your arm again, this time more gently.

"You're not a burden" he said, his voice softening. "Not to me. You never could be."

You looked down at your hands, your heart heavy with guilt and shame. "I just didn't know how to tell you. It's... it's hard. It's hard to explain why I do it and I didn't want to make you worry."

Sylus exhaled slowly, his hand moving to cup your cheek tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I’m already worried, sweetie" he said quietly. "and I wish you would've told me sooner. I hate that you've been going through this alone."

The tenderness in his voice broke something inside you and you couldn't hold back the sob that escaped your lips. You collapsed into his arms burying your face in his chest as the weight of everything you'd been holding in finally came crashing down.

Sylus wrapped his arms around you holding you tightly against him his chin resting on top of your head. "I'm here now" he murmured his voice steady though you could hear the pain behind it. "We'll get through this together. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe-just maybe-you didn't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.

[mssalo]

safety - Part: Il

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Breaking and entering, Scent kink, Voyeurism, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Male masturbation, Joel, still, needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

9k. enjoy.

Part I Part III Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel found out she was working at the supply store by accident.

He hadn’t planned on seeing her again. After that first encounter, he convinced himself he’d walk away.

She wasn’t his problem.

He couldn’t get wrapped up in someone like her—someone who had no idea how dangerous the world really was.

But then, on one of his routine stops for supplies, he spotted her behind the counter.

She hadn’t seen him

At first, he’d assumed she was just a customer again, passing through, but when she’d ducked behind the register, pulling out receipts, it hit him.

She worked there now.

She hadn’t told him that before, hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and yet here she was, talking to customers, rearranging gear, moving around the store like it was something she’d been doing forever.

And for some reason, that made something inside him tighten.

She was here all the time. Regular hours, regular shifts.

Easy to find.

That should’ve made him feel nothing. But it didn’t.

That’s so fuckin’ dangerous.

From that point on, whenever he stopped by the store, he made sure to keep his distance.

He’d walk in, grab what he needed, and leave before she noticed him.

There was something about seeing her there—watching her smile and chat with customers—that unnerved him in a way he couldn’t explain.

She didn’t fit in with the world he knew.

She was too soft, too bright. She belonged somewhere safe, not in a place like this.

Yet, he found himself coming back.

Over and over.

Each time, he told himself it was the last time.

That he’d stop, that he didn’t need to see her again.

But every time he came back, she was there—talking to someone, laughing at some joke, her voice floating through the air like a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

Joel tried to ignore it.

Tried to ignore her.

But she was like a goddamn magnet, pulling him back in without even realizing it.

And then, one day, she spotted him.

“Joel!” she called, her voice bright and cheerful, as if they were old friends.

He froze, his hand tightening around the bag of supplies he’d grabbed.

He’d been so close to slipping out unnoticed, but now she was looking at him, smiling that same smile that made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn and meet her gaze.

She was standing behind the counter, hands resting on the edge, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him.

These damn pretty eyes.

“I didn’t know you came here so often,” she said, her tone playful.

“What’s bringing you back this time?”

Joel grunted, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Needed more supplies. That’s all.”

She didn’t seem to notice the coldness in his voice, just kept smiling at him like he hadn’t been avoiding her for days.

“You always seem so prepared,” she said with a small laugh. “I bet you could survive out there for weeks with all the stuff you buy.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. Survive? 

She had no idea what that meant.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flicking to the side as if she wasn’t sure what to say next.

But then she turned back to him, her expression softening again.

“You know, I’ve been learning more about the gear here,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “I could help you with recommendations if you ever need it.”

Joel stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Why was she still talking to him? Why was she being so damn nice?

“I’m good,” he said, his voice gruff.

But she didn’t stop.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with curiosity. “You sure? I’ve been reading up on it a lot. Could probably surprise you with what I know.”

You shouldn’t trust me, Joel thought, his mind racing. 

Why are you still smiling at me?

He grunted again, shifting on his feet, his gaze flicking to the door.

He needed to leave. Now.

“Well,” she said, that same smile tugging at her lips, “if you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m here most days now.”

Too much information. 

Joel’s gut clenched. She shouldn’t be telling him this—telling anyone this. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to be so open, so trusting?

“You shouldn’t tell people that,” Joel muttered, his voice harsher than he meant. “Not safe.”

Her brows furrowed, her smile slipping for the first time. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt the weight of her confusion settle on him, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Tellin’ strangers where you work. When you work. Ain’t smart.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Oh... I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

Of course, you didn’t. 

Joel’s mind reeled, his frustration bubbling just below the surface.

You don’t know how to think like that. You don’t know what the world can do to people like you.

But before he could say anything else, she smiled again, though this time it was smaller, a bit softer.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, her voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to—well, I guess I’m just not used to thinking like that.”

Yeah. I can tell.

But instead of saying that, Joel just nodded, his jaw still tight. He needed to leave, needed to stop this before he got in too deep.

Here’s a darker, more intense version of that passage:

“See you around,” she called after him as he turned to leave.

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t.

His throat was tight, his chest heavy. But as he pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cool air, something made him look back.

She was still watching him. Smiling. Soft. So damn innocent.

That look in her eyes—so full of trust—twisted something deep inside him.

She doesn’t know better.

His boots hit the pavement harder than necessary as he made his way to the truck.

Every step felt heavy, like the weight of his thoughts was dragging him down. His hand found the door handle, but he couldn’t make himself move.

Couldn’t shake the way her scent still clung to him, sweet and soft, like she was still standing right next to him.

Joel gritted his teeth, staring down at the truck door, but all he could see was her face.

Her wide, bright eyes, that shy smile, the way she just… trusted.

Trusted him. She shouldn’t.

His body felt hot, the tension coiling low in his gut, his muscles tight.

Too tight.

And then he felt it again—his cock, straining against his jeans, hard and throbbing, a deep, almost painful ache that made his breath catch in his throat.

Fuck.

It hit him like a freight train, sudden and unwanted. His mind raced, trying to push the thought of her away, but the harder he tried, the worse it got.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the heat in his body rising as the memory of her soft voice echoed in his mind.

That innocent, clumsy laugh. The way she fumbled with the gear. The blush on her cheeks.

Joel’s grip tightened on the door handle, his knuckles turning white.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He hadn’t felt this in years. This need. This raw, primal hunger gnawing at him.

His body betrayed him, his cock throbbing harder, almost painfully, as if it knew something he didn’t.

But it was because of her.

The realization, again, made his chest tighten, his breath coming in rough, uneven bursts.

He slammed the door shut, leaning his forehead against the cool metal, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

No. Not her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but her image was burned into his mind—her body, her smell, the softness in her eyes.

His cock twitched again, the pressure building, his jeans too tight, the pulse unbearable.

She was so sweet. So oblivious.

And here he was, standing in the parking lot like a goddamn animal, throbbing with need for something he knew he shouldn’t want.

But the thought of her lingered. The way she looked up at him like he was something to be trusted. Something safe.

Joel forced himself into the truck, gripping the wheel so tight he thought it might break.

His heart pounded in his chest, the tension making every breath feel like fire.

He needed to forget her. Get her out of his head.

But his body told him otherwise.

The throbbing between his legs refused to be ignored. His jaw clenched, muscles tight with frustration as the thoughts swirled, dark and unwanted.

He hadn’t felt like this in years. Not since before everything went to hell.

And now? Now this girl—this soft, sweet girl—had him unraveling.

Joel’s head thudded against the back of the seat, his pulse still racing. This wasn’t going to end well.

Not for him.

And definitely not for her.

· · ────

The following days were a blur of uncomfortable tension.

Joel tried to stay away.

He told himself not to go back to the store, not to linger around her.

He even went out on longer drives, tried to immerse himself in the things that usually kept his mind quiet.

But it didn’t work. Not anymore.

She was lodged in his thoughts, a constant, nagging presence that he couldn’t shake.

No matter how hard he tried to forget her, she always managed to crawl back in.

Her face, her voice, the way she smiled up at him like he wasn’t something to fear.

It gnawed at him, a reminder of everything he’d left behind.

A week passed before Joel saw her again.

This time, it was different. He wasn’t just there for supplies or to catch a glimpse of her. No, this time, he watched her more carefully.

Observing.

He kept his distance at first, lingering near the back of the store, eyes flicking toward her every few minutes as she worked.

She hummed to herself again, that same soft tune he’d heard the first time they met.

It wasn’t loud, barely audible under the sound of the store, but he caught it.

And it made something tighten inside him.

For a man who lived in shadows, always on alert, this brightness—this innocence—felt foreign. Her having no need to be quiet so she won’t be seen.

Wrong.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching her.

She smiled as she spoke to a customer, her eyes lighting up as she handed them their change.

She was so goddamn open, so trusting. And that terrified him.

He told himself it was because she didn’t know better. She didn’t know what kind of world she lived in.

She hadn’t seen the things he’d seen, hadn’t done the things he’d done.

That was why he watched her so closely now.

He was protecting her. Keeping her safe.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

The next day, she found him again, her voice soft but cheerful as she spoke up. “You’re back! Need anything else?”

Joel stared at her for a moment, his chest tightening at how easily she smiled at him. “Just… lookin’.”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Well, if you ever need recommendations, I’m your girl.”

He tried to brush it off, tried to keep his voice steady, his eyes focused anywhere but on her.

But when she started talking about her weekend plans, everything shifted.

“I’m actually heading out for a solo trip this weekend,” she said, her voice filled with excitement.

“Found this beautiful spot just outside of town. Gonna do some camping, get away from everything for a bit.”

Joel’s blood ran cold.

Camping? Alone?

His jaw clenched as he stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said.

A girl like her? Out in the wilderness by herself?

The world wasn’t safe, and she was too naive to see that. She didn’t understand the dangers lurking just beyond the treeline.

“Where?” His voice was rough, demanding.

The softness from earlier was gone, replaced by the cold, hard edge that usually kept people at a distance.

She blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Uh… it’s just a little spot out past the ridge. Really pretty.”

Joel felt his chest tighten.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he said, his voice dark, laced with warning. “It’s not safe.”

She blinked, clearly confused by his sudden shift. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice now. “I’ve done this before.”

“No, you won’t,” Joel growled, stepping closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “You have no idea what’s out there.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, brows furrowed. “I—”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower, more threatening.

His paranoia was slipping through now, his need to protect her—to control the situation—overwhelming him. “You’re not prepared for what’s out there.”

There was a long pause, the tension thick between them. She opened her mouth to speak, but Joel wasn’t done.

“If you’re set on goin’,” he said, his tone calmer now, but still dark, “I know a better place. Secluded. Safe.”

His mind was spinning with the need to protect her, to make sure she was under his watch. “It’s past the ridge. You won’t find it on a map, but it’s perfect for campin’.”

That was his land. His very own property, tucked away from prying eyes, isolated and quiet. His land. Where he could keep an eye on her.

Her eyes brightened again, the tension between them easing just slightly. “Really? That sounds amazing! I’d love to check it out.”

Trusting so easily.

Joel nodded slowly, watching her carefully.

“I’ll give you the coordinates,” he said, his voice rough, his gaze still locked on hers. “Just… be careful.”

She smiled again, oblivious to the darkness brewing behind his eyes. “Thank you, Joel. I appreciate it.”

There's that damn blush again.

Joel nodded again, but his mind was already elsewhere.

She didn’t belong out there alone. And now, after hearing her plans, Joel knew what he had to do.

She wouldn’t be alone.

If she wouldn’t protect herself, then he would

· · ────

It happened by accident, really.

Joel had been driving through town, running his usual errands—another routine day where he tried to keep his mind occupied with anything but her.

It was something he’d been forcing himself to do for the past few days, convincing himself that the tension in his chest would ease if he just avoided her, if he didn’t let himself linger in her orbit for too long.

But fate had other plans.

As he turned down a quiet street on the edge of town, his eyes caught movement.

A figure stepped out of a small, unassuming house, barely noticeable in the corner of his eye.

Joel wasn’t even sure why he slowed down at first. He told himself it was out of habit, that old soldier instinct to assess everything in his surroundings. But the moment he saw her, all rational thought slipped away.

It was her.

She stood there, fumbling with her keys and a couple of grocery bags, her hair falling loose around her shoulders in soft waves.

Joel’s foot hovered over the brake for just a second too long as he watched her struggle to balance the bags and unlock the door.

Her face was flushed, lips moving as she muttered something to herself—a frustrated little quirk of her mouth that made his chest tighten.

There was something different about seeing her like this.

Here, in her space.

Not at the store, not somewhere public. But here—outside her home.

He felt a knot of something unfamiliar, something deep and possessive curl in his stomach.

She didn’t notice him at all. She was too busy juggling her things, her focus entirely on the door in front of her.

Joel’s gaze swept over her as he slowly rolled by, his truck moving at a crawl now.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though a part of him knew he should’ve kept driving.

But the pull was too strong.

There was a softness about her here that felt even more pronounced.

Her home, small and tucked away from the busier streets, suited her in a way that he hadn’t expected. It was unassuming, private, but open in a way that made Joel feel… unsettled.

Like she was too exposed, too vulnerable, and too easy to find. Too easy for someone to hurt.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the thought crossed his mind.

She had no idea how dangerous the world really was. How quickly things could go wrong.

He drove past, the truck moving with painful slowness, his eyes flicking from the road to her again and again.

She didn’t see him. Not once. And for some reason, that bothered him more than it should have.

She hadn’t locked the door when she finally went inside.

Of course, she hadn’t.

Joel’s chest tightened with frustration, his jaw clenching as he drove farther down the road, turning the corner and pulling to a stop just out of sight.

Now that he knew where she lived, something shifted. He couldn’t just drive away and forget about it. No, she was here, alone, with no sense of the dangers that could easily find her.

He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his problem.

But that’s not how it felt anymore.

· · ────

It wasn’t until later that night, as he lay in bed, that the dream came.

It wasn’t like the usual ones—flashes of war, the men he’d fought alongside, the sounds of gunfire and the stink of blood.

This one was different and it hit harder than anything he’d experienced in years.

He dreamt of her.

Of her in that house. And something, someone, breaking in.

It was chaos.

She was screaming, fighting to get free, and all he could do was watch, powerless, as she disappeared into the shadows.

He woke up drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins.

For a moment, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been real—that she was in danger and he hadn’t been there to stop it.

His hand instinctively reached for the knife he kept near the bed, fingers gripping the handle like it was his lifeline.

His breath came in heavy bursts, his body rigid with the need to protect, to act.

He could still hear her screams, still see her face twisted in fear.

She wasn’t safe.

And it wasn’t just a dream. Joel knew then, in that moment, that he couldn’t let this go.

He couldn’t just stand by and hope for the best.

It was only a matter of time, before something bad would happen to her.

He had to make sure she was okay, had to make sure nothing like that ever happened to her.

And if that meant going out of his way to keep an eye on her, then so be it.

· · ────

The next day, he drove by her house again.

And the day after that.

Each time, he told himself it was just a precaution, just a way to make sure she wasn’t in any real danger.

He didn’t get too close, didn’t let himself be seen.

But every time he saw her, the tension in his chest loosened just a little, knowing she was still there, still safe.

He found out more about her routines—when she left for work, when she came back.

He watched as she went about her day, completely unaware of the eyes that followed her every move.

She wasn’t like the rest of the world—hardened and scarred by violence.

She was soft, untouched by the darkness that clung to everything Joel had known.

And that’s why she needed him.

· · ────

The more he watched her, the more he realized how easy it would be for something to go wrong.

A stranger could approach her on her walks, someone could break into her house, anything could happen.

And if he wasn’t there to stop it… she would be defenseless.

That feeling from the dream—the panic, the helplessness—still clung to him, gnawing at his gut like a festering wound.

He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t convince himself to turn around and go home.

That’s why he had started breaking into her house.

Naturally.

At first, it was just to make sure everything was secure.

He would check the locks, make sure the windows were latched, make sure there were no signs of forced entry.

But the more he let himself in, the more his reasons shifted.

He started checking her camping gear, making sure everything was in place.

Joel crouched down, fingers brushing over the rough material as he unzipped the bag.

His hands moved through her belongings with the same careful touch, checking each item she’d packed.

He frowned when he noticed some of the essentials missing.

No proper emergency gear. Not enough food. Definitely not enough water.

She wasn’t ready.

His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and concern.

She had no idea what she was walking into.

The wild didn’t care how innocent or sweet you were—it tore people apart.

And she was so damn trusting, so clueless about the danger that lurked everywhere.

Joel zipped the bag back up and stood, a plan already forming in his mind.

She couldn’t go out there alone, not without the proper gear. Not without protection.

He’d make sure she had what she needed.

He’d leave it for her—quietly, subtly.

She didn’t need to know he was the one watching over her.

She didn’t need to know just how deep his involvement went.

His feet led him down the hall, toward the room at the end—the door slightly ajar, a soft, warm glow spilling from inside.

Joel’s breath hitched as he stepped further inside, his boots nearly silent on the hardwood floor.

It was small, simple, but unmistakably hers.

A bed with a soft quilted cover, a small nightstand with a book left open, and clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry as his eyes roamed over the space.

He moved slowly, carefully, his eyes scanning the room like he was surveying a battlefield.

Everything was neat, untouched, just as he’d expected.

But as he stood there, something twisted in his chest. He wasn’t just here to check on her safety.

Something else caught his attention.

Her underwear.

At first, it was an accident. He wasn’t looking for it, but when he stumbled upon it—soft, lacy, and used—he couldn’t stop himself.

His hands reached for it before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric.

His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that.

But the scent—her scent—was intoxicating, wrapping around him like a drug. His mind flashed with images of her wearing it, of her undressing, her skin soft and bare beneath his touch.

Joel’s grip tightened on the fabric, his body reacting in ways he hadn’t felt in years. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight, the throbbing between his legs impossible to ignore. He was so hard.

This wasn’t just about keeping her safe anymore. It was about something deeper, something darker.

He brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of her wash over him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his mind filling with thoughts he had no right to think.

He hadn’t let himself feel something like this —this raw, uncontrollable hunger—but now, standing in her bedroom, holding something so private, so close to her, it hit him like a wave.

Joel inhaled deeply, the scent wrapping around him like a haze, flooding his senses. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing deepened, and the scent clung to him, almost suffocating him in the best way possible.

The sweetness, mixed with something so personal, made his heart pound harder in his chest, heat rising in his body.

She had no idea.

No idea what she did to him.

How that softness, that scent, chipped away at the walls he build.

His fingers tightened around the fabric as he held it closer, the warmth of her scent flooding his senses.

His mind was clouded with images—images of her.

She shouldn’t be this trusting.

He imagined her standing there, blushing, lips parting slightly, her soft voice spilling from them, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind.

She was just too easy to picture—too easy to want.

too sweet.

Too soft. Too innocent for someone like him.

Joel’s grip tightened as he let his mind spiral deeper into the images of her—blushing, trembling, staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that would soon be filled with something else.

His fingers tightened around the fabric, his body responding in ways he couldn’t deny any longer.

He fought to steady his breathing, to push the dark thoughts from his mind, but they were there, lurking just beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tried.

He shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want her. 

He wasn’t just imagining her anymore—he was feeling her, smelling her, letting her invade his mind and body in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his breathing rough as he tried to regain control.

But the more he let the fabric linger in his hands, the more he realized—he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to let go.

Joel stayed like that, frozen in the moment, inhaling deeply, the used fabric of her underwear still clutched in his hands as he lost himself in the dark, possessive thoughts swirling in his mind.

He knew it wouldn’t be the last time. He couldn’t stop now.

The pull was too strong, too overwhelming.

Without even thinking, he raised the fabric closer, his lips hovering just above it.

His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, aching rhythm, the temptation crawling under his skin.

He hesitated for just a moment, knowing how wrong this was, how far he was crossing a line.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Nothing could stop him now.

Joel’s breath hitched, and his lips brushed against the soft material, barely making contact at first.

He could feel the warmth, the faint trace of her cunt, lingering on the fabric, and it sent a wave of heat rushing through him.

His grip tightened.

The softness pressed against his mouth, and for a split second, he let his tongue flicker out, tasting her sweet pussy, just barely.

It was subtle, a hint of something forbidden, but it sent a jolt straight through him.

He felt himself tense, his body reacting in ways he could no longer control, the line between protection and obsession blurring even more.

He wanted more.

Before he could let his tongue get another lick, Joel heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

That did certainly stop him.

His body stiffened, and in a heartbeat, all the dark, twisted satisfaction evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

His mind raced, his fingers trembling as he fumbled to put everything back exactly where it had been.

Not now. Not like this.

He moved swiftly but silently, making sure every trace of him disappeared. Every drawer closed, every fabric in place. He couldn’t leave any sign that he had been there.

His heart pounded against his ribcage as he slipped out of the bedroom, his movements precise, calculated.

Years of training kept his body moving even when his mind teetered on panic.

The soft sound of her footsteps reached his ears as she moved further into the house.

She was talking to herself again, that light, carefree tune that only made him more desperate to get out unnoticed.

She had no idea.

No idea that he had been so close, no idea of the thoughts that ran through his head while he held her soaked panties in his hands.

Joel paused at the back door, his body pressed against the frame as he caught a glimpse of her through the crack in the doorway.

She was still oblivious, setting her bag down, humming softly to herself. She hadn’t noticed anything. Not the disturbance in the air, not the faint scent of him that still lingered in the room.

So innocent. So trusting.

Must be nice.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes darkening as he observed her, standing there in the home she thought was safe.

He could still smell her on him, the faint scent clinging to his mustache, the lingering effect making his pulse quicken once more.

But he couldn’t stay.

Not now.

With one last glance, Joel slipped out of the house, his movements quick and silent.

He disappeared into the shadows just as she turned toward the hallway, completely unaware of how close he had been—how close he still was.

· · ────

Joel slipped into his truck with the stealth of a man used to evading detection, his heart still hammering in his chest as he turned the key in the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life, but his mind was elsewhere. 

The drive home felt longer than usual, each passing second a blur of adrenaline and frustration.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white, his breathing uneven.

He could still smell her, the faint scent lingering on his clothes, on his skin. It was maddening.

He tried to shake it off, tried to ignore the throbbing ache that had been building since he smelled her sweet little cunt, but it wouldn’t go away.

When he finally pulled up to his house, Joel barely remembered the drive at all.

He parked the truck haphazardly, the door slamming shut behind him as he made his way inside.

His boots hit the wooden floor with heavy thuds, and before he knew it, he was leaning back against the wall in his living room, his breath still coming in shallow bursts.

His breath was ragged, the ache in his body refusing to subside.

The scent of her cunt—still clinging to his beard, his hands—seeped into his skin, a constant reminder of what she had stirred deep inside him.

He hadn’t felt like this in years, hadn’t allowed himself to. But now, there was no going back.

His cock throbbed painfully, straining against his jeans, and for the first time in so long, he couldn’t ignore it.

The need was unbearable, clawing at him, demanding release. He leaned back against the wall, chest heaving, every breath filled with the sweetness of her scent.

It was still there, on him, as if she hadn’t left.

His hand hovered over the bulge in his jeans, fingers twitching, as if fighting the urge to touch.

But the memory of her—the feel of her, the scent of her—was overwhelming.

He couldn’t stop now. He didn’t want to.

With a low growl, he gave in, his hand pressing against his cock, the pressure sending a shiver up his spine.

His jaw clenched as he slowly dragged his palm over the length, the throbbing only growing more intense. The sensation was too much, too sharp after years of nothing.

He hadn’t touched himself like this in so long, and the intensity of it almost knocked the breath out of him.

His cock twitched, hard and aching in his hand, the weight of it heavy as he gripped it tighter.

His breath hitched as he finally pulled it free, the cool air hitting his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat that was coursing through his veins. fuck.

He stroked himself slowly at first, his rough palm sliding over the swollen, leaking head, the friction making him groan.

He thought he’d never feel this was again.

His mind was a haze of her—her softness, her innocence, the way she had smiled at him, so trusting, so sweet.

She didn’t know what she was doing to him. She couldn’t know.

But he did.

His pace quickened, each stroke more desperate, more insistent. The scent of her was driving him insane.

Sweet like her.

He licked his lips, trying to get some of that sweet, sweet taste back he had earlier.

His cock throbbed in his hand, hard and slick as he pumped it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Her face flashed in his mind again—those wide, innocent eyes, the way she had blushed when she looked at him.

She had no idea.

No idea how badly he wanted her, how much he needed her.

Joel’s grip tightened, his strokes rougher now, his hips jerking up into his hand as he chased that release, the pressure building fast.

His cock was pulsing in his hand, slick and hard, aching with the need for something he couldn’t name.

Something only she could give him.

His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving as he pumped his cock faster, harder.

The tension coiled tight in his gut, every muscle in his body straining as the need for release consumed him.

He could almost taste her, the memory of her scent still filling his lungs, making his head swim.

With a rough, guttural growl, Joel’s body tensed, his vision going white as the tension finally snapped.

His cock jerked in his hand, the release hitting him like a storm, fierce and unforgiving.

He groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking as he spilled over his hand, the warmth spreading through him like fire. He hadn’t cum that much in years.

It wouldn’t stop coming out of him.

…well, this was new.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his breath coming in ragged, heavy gasps, his hand still wrapped around his now-softening cock.

The pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving behind a dark satisfaction that settled deep in his bones.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Because her scent was still there.

Her softness still lingered in his mind, wrapped around him like a shroud, and Joel knew—this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Joel’s mind flickered back to the map, to the spot he’d given her—the spot on his land.

He could see it clear as day, tucked away, isolated, surrounded by woods.

Tomorrow, she’d be out there, alone, completely unaware of what could happen.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

The world was dangerous, filled with things she couldn’t even begin to understand.

But he did.

His pulse quickened, that dark, familiar feeling tightening around his chest.

He’d keep her safe. He’d make sure nothing happened to her—not on his watch.

No one else knew the dangers lurking in the shadows like he did. She had no idea, no clue what she was walking into.

But he’d be there.

Watching.

And if anything—or anyone—tried to hurt her, they’d have to go through him first.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’d seen too much, lost too much.

But not her. Not this time.

Tomorrow, he’d make sure she was safe… even if she didn’t know it.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well… somebody needs therapy (me and him both)

I have no tag list for this (I’m old and will probably fail starting one) but if you comment on here I’ll remind you if there’s a new chapter!!

Deal?

xoxo

[simplygojo]

ok ive followed you for awhile and i love your writing youre so talented! if youre open to it i wanted to request something. basically my idea was like (aged up) you nobara, yuji, megumi, maki, toge are friends and you play a spicy truth or dare game... basically it ends with crushes confessing their feelings and spicy preferences/kinks and stuff. i was thinking yuji x reader or megumi x reader but anything works. i totally get if you think this is weird and dont want to do it so no worries! - anon <3

Drink, Dare, and Desire

Authors Note: I loved this request!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I really hope you like this and hope it was something along the lines of what you were looking for! 

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Adult/Megumi Fushiguro x f/reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings : 18+ Content, (mild) SMUT! Alcohol Use!

The night was alive with the hum of the city just outside the dorm windows. You, along with Nobara, Yuji, Megumi, Maki, and Toge, were sprawled across the room, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout dinner and a mostly drained bottle of sake scattered between you.

It wasn’t often that you all found time to hang out like this. Between training and missions, these moments of downtime were precious—and apparently, very unpredictable.

“Alright, alright, who’s next for a drink?” Nobara chirped, swirling the sake bottle in her hand, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy.

Yuji stretched lazily, a wide grin on his face as he glanced around. “Why stop at drinking when we could make it interesting?”

It took less than a second for Nobara to catch on. “Ooh, what are you suggesting?”

Maki, sitting back with her arms folded, raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem opposed. Meanwhile, Toge, his quiet demeanor in stark contrast to the energy around him, gave a casual shrug. It was rare to see him so relaxed, which probably had something to do with the sake flowing freely.

“Truth or dare,” Yuji declared, rubbing his hands together like he was about to unveil some grand plan.

A soft groan escaped Megumi, who had been sitting quietly beside you, a slight frown on his face as he watched the chaotic energy unfold. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, though you could sense a slight interest beneath his usual stoic demeanor.

You snorted, nudging him lightly. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Fushiguro.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward for a second before settling back into his familiar expression. But even as he tried to seem unaffected, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Truth or dare games had a way of revealing more than they were meant to, and maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for exactly that.

Nobara wasted no time, slapping the floor in excitement. “Okay! Yuji, since it was your idea, you go first. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Yuji responded instantly, leaning back on his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Nobara’s grin widened, and you knew from that look she had something ridiculous in mind. “I dare you… to chug your drink, then kiss someone in the circle.”

The room fell into a momentary hush, all eyes darting toward Yuji as his grin faltered for just a second before he leaned forward and grabbed his drink.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the remainder of his sake, slamming the cup down with a triumphant look on his face. Without hesitation, he leaned over to Toge, planting a dramatic kiss on his cheek.

Toge raised a brow, his face impassive as always, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Salmon,” he said, giving Yuji a light shove, which only made everyone burst out laughing.

Maki shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Weak.”

“You’re just mad you weren’t the one kissed,” Yuji teased, wiping the corner of his mouth with a grin.

“Dream on, idiot,” Maki shot back, but the playful tension between them was undeniable.

Toge, ever the quiet observer, pointed to you next, his expression calm as he said, “Tuna mayo?”

“Truth,” you answered, deciding to take it easy for now. You could already feel a warmth spreading through you, the sake making everything seem a little hazier, a little more relaxed.

Yuji leaned forward with an eager expression. “Who do you think is the most attractive here?”

A collective groan followed the question, though there was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. You felt the weight of their stares, especially Megumi’s, whose gaze seemed to pierce through you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Megumi,” you finally said, the word tumbling out softly, almost shyly.

The room erupted in laughter and teasing remarks, but all you could focus on was the subtle way Megumi’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting away as a faint flush rose to his cheeks.

“Wow, no hesitation,” Nobara teased, nudging Megumi’s arm with her elbow. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Megumi grumbled something under his breath, but his usual stoic front was beginning to crack, a small, rare smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, alright, moving on,” you said quickly, trying to divert the attention. “Nobara, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she replied instantly, crossing her arms over her chest with a look that screamed ‘challenge me.’

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before smirking. “I dare you to tell us one of your kinks.”

Nobara’s eyes widened slightly, her confident facade faltering for just a second before she burst into laughter. “Oh, come on! Alright, fine.” She leaned back, her cheeks flushed—though whether it was from the alcohol or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “I like it rough—like really rough.”

The room collectively gasped before bursting into a mixture of laughter and wide-eyed stares. Yuji let out a loud “What?!” while Maki just shrugged with a look that said, Not surprised.

“That’s way too much information,” Yuji groaned, covering his face with his hands while Nobara smacked him on the back.

“What, too much for you, Yuji?” Nobara teased, clearly enjoying the moment. “Maybe I’ll dial it back next time.”

Toge snickered quietly, glancing at Yuji, whose face was flushed for an entirely different reason now.

—

The game continued, each round more daring and revealing. Maki, always calm and collected, had admitted that she preferred someone who could challenge her both physically and ‘test her limits.’

Toge, while still being mostly silent, revealed through hand gestures and a few simple words that he liked to be taken control of and bossed around—makes sense given his cursed speech ability.

Yuji, with his usual lack of filter, shared a little too much about his curiosity in trying anything—and he meant everything—at least once, leaving Nobara shaking her head and everyone else laughing.

By the time it was Megumi’s turn again, the air in the room felt charged, the stakes higher now that almost everyone had bared more than just their emotions.

Maki’s sharp gaze landed on Megumi, and you could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Alright, Fushiguro, truth or dare?”

He looked almost bored, but you could tell he was being careful. “Dare.”

A slow, almost wicked grin spread across Maki’s face. “I dare you to kiss y/n.”

Your heart nearly stopped. The laughter and chatter from the others faded into the background as you locked eyes with Megumi. His expression didn’t change, but you noticed how his eyes darkened slightly, like he was weighing his options.

The whole room seemed to still, waiting for his next move.

Without breaking eye contact, Megumi stood up, moving toward you with a calmness that belied the tension swirling around him. Every step he took seemed deliberate, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as the distance between you closed.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol in the air. His voice was low when he spoke, meant only for your ears. “Are you okay with this?”

You could barely nod, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started soft, almost teasing.

But when you responded, pressing into him, the kiss deepened, the intensity building between you until all the nerves and tension melted away. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.

When he finally pulled away, the room erupted in cheers and teasing catcalls, but you could hardly focus on any of it.

The only thing you could think about was the way Megumi’s hand lingered on your waist, his eyes still locked on yours as though you were the only person in the room.

“Wow,” Yuji finally broke the silence, clapping his hands together. “That was intense.”

“Way to go, Fushiguro,” Nobara added, winking at you with a knowing smile.

Megumi, still quiet, returned to his spot beside you, but this time, his body language was different.

There was no more guarded front, no more distance. Instead, his knee brushed against yours, his arm resting just a little too close to be accidental.

The game had peeled back some of his usual stoicism, and now there was something deeper lurking beneath his calm exterior—something you could feel humming in the space between you. 

You dared to glance over at him, only to find his eyes already on you, their dark intensity sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. He didn't look away, didn't even try to hide the fact that he was watching you.

Your breath hitched slightly, the sudden weight of his gaze pressing down on you, making your pulse quicken. It was like he was trying to read you, see past the casual facade you were putting up for the others.

But his eyes weren’t just curious—they were hungry, filled with a desire you weren’t sure you were ready to face head-on, but that also thrilled you in ways you hadn’t expected.

The others were too caught up in their laughter to notice the way the air crackled between you and Megumi, but you were hyper-aware of every single movement he made. Even the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand rested dangerously close to your thigh, sent sparks through you.

You swallowed, trying to shake off the way your skin prickled with awareness, but it was impossible. The more you tried to ignore him, the more your body seemed to betray you, the warmth in your stomach spreading lower with every lingering glance he threw your way.

Then, as if on cue, Megumi stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'm getting another bottle," he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges, like he was holding back more than just his words.

You weren’t prepared for what came next. As he rose, his hand grazed your thigh—a light, seemingly casual touch, but it set every nerve in your body on fire. 

His fingers lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and when you looked up, his eyes met yours again, darker now, filled with an unspoken promise. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you blurred—Nobara’s laughter, Yuji’s teasing, Maki’s quips—all of it fading into the background. 

All you could focus on was the heat of Megumi’s touch, the way it had seared through you, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation—you wanted him, bad.

The room felt too small, too hot, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you and him. It was nothing, really—a simple touch, a brush of fingers—but it felt like everything.

Like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the tension that crackled between you both.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath. But even as he walked away, you could still feel him. It was like his presence clung to you, the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin even in his absence.

When Megumi returned with another bottle of sake, his calm facade was back in place, but you weren’t fooled. There was a subtle shift in the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked to you as he sat back down, this time even closer than before. 

His thigh brushed against yours, just barely, but it was enough to send another rush of heat pooling in your stomach.

You could feel him now, not just his physical presence, but the storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of every inch of your body—how close you were sitting, the way your legs almost touched, the heat radiating off him.

It felt like every breath you took was somehow synced with his, the air between you buzzing with a tension that neither of you acknowledged out loud but was impossible to ignore.

Nobara was saying something, but you barely registered the words. Your focus had narrowed, zeroing in on the way Megumi’s fingers brushed against the rim of his glass, the way his jaw clenched slightly when he looked at you, like he was holding something back. 

The tension was suffocating, but in the best possible way, like it was wrapping around you, pulling you both into a world where nothing else mattered.

You shifted again, but this time it felt deliberate. The tiniest of movements, your knee brushing against his, the fabric of his pants against your skin. 

It was innocent enough on the surface, but the way his eyes darkened in response told you everything you needed to know. The tension between you had been building for too long, simmering just beneath the surface, and now, it felt like it was reaching a boiling point.

When he looked at you again, his gaze was heated, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. You couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened, your heart thudding in your chest. 

You wanted him to break first, to give in to whatever this was that had been hanging between you for so long.

—

The night was winding down, but the weight of everything that had been said—and left unsaid—hung heavily in the air. The others had drifted off to their rooms, their laughter fading into the background as the dorm grew quieter.

It was just you and Megumi now, the soft glow of the lamplight casting long shadows across the room, highlighting the distance between you that was rapidly shrinking with every passing second.

Megumi stood close, his usual stoic expression softer now, more vulnerable than you had ever seen. His fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. His eyes flickered, like he was searching for the right words but couldn’t quite find them.

"You’re staying, right?" His voice was quiet, hesitant, the rough edge of his usual demeanor replaced with something rawer, something real.

You nodded, heart pounding. "Yeah. I’m staying."

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, the unspoken tension between you two finally rising to the surface after simmering for so long.

You could feel the magnetic pull between you, an invisible thread tugging you closer, binding you in this shared moment of vulnerability and desire. 

Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s resolve seemed to snap. His lips were on yours again, more urgent this time, as if the dam holding back everything he’d been feeling for so long had finally burst.

His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid to let go.

This kiss was different from the one earlier, more intense, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither of you had fully realized until now.

It was as if all the time spent pretending, all the looks, the touches, the quiet moments shared between you, had led to this. 

You let out a long-awaited moan into his mouth as your lips moved hungrily in sync, as if releasing all the tension you’d been sitting in all night.

The fire between you was no longer just a flicker—it had ignited into something all-consuming, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer, desperate to erase any remaining space between you. 

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like you had been waiting for this moment your entire life. The heat between you was overwhelming, your mind hazy with the sheer closeness of him.

Megumi’s hands roamed your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, his fingers rough and warm as they explored the sensitive skin beneath.

His touch was deliberate, slow, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of your body that he could claim. 

Each pass of his fingertips was electric, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, igniting a fire deep inside you that you could no longer contain.

The moment his skin touched yours, it was like a spark had been lit, an intense awareness coursing through your body. 

His hands slid up the curve of your waist, pausing just beneath your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your chest with an aching slowness that sent shivers racing down your spine.

The contact was subtle, but the heat from his touch seared into you, making your breath hitch and your pulse race.

Your senses were on overdrive—every small stroke of his fingers, the way his nails lightly grazed your skin, sent a rush of heat pooling in your core.

The alcohol had dulled your inhibitions, making you hyper-aware of every inch of him against you, but it was more than that. 

The intimacy, the raw connection you shared with him, was overwhelming, heightening the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you.

You could feel it in every brush of his skin against yours, every soft exhale of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at your soft skin.

The tension built with every passing second, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. 

His hands moved higher, his touch growing bolder, more possessive, and it was almost unbearable—the way you ached for more, for him to go further, to close the distance that still remained between you.

Your body trembled beneath his touch, anticipation coursing through your veins as you leaned into him, needing him closer, needing more of him.

Your soft gasp filled the space between you as Megumi’s lips pressed against the side of your neck, trailing a slow, deliberate path down your skin. His breath was warm, ragged, and every exhale sent a wave of heat coursing through you. 

He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, the warmth of his lips and the scrape of his teeth drawing another shiver from you. It was maddening—the way he took his time, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses that left your body trembling with need.

His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, and the sensation of his mouth on your skin made you feel like you were unraveling, your body responding to him with a mind of its own. 

Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your thoughts muddled by the intoxicating combination of alcohol, desire, and the closeness of his body against yours.

You could feel his breath falter, his own restraint slipping as his lips moved against your skin, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. He kissed lower, his lips trailing along your collarbone, leaving a path of warmth and want in their wake. 

Your heart raced, your body thrumming with the need for more, for him to touch you everywhere, to finally give in to the desire that had been building between you for what felt like forever.

As his hands tightened around your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, you knew that you weren’t the only one losing control.

Megumi’s breath came faster, more ragged, his kisses turning hungrier, more desperate, as though he was just as consumed by this moment as you were. 

The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other, the heat of your bodies and the tension that had been simmering between you for far too long finally breaking free.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. His hands still held you close, refusing to let go, and when his eyes met yours again, they were dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough and low, filled with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I’ve wanted this for so long... wanted you."

Your heart fluttered at his confession, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. You had always known there was something between you and Megumi, but hearing it from him, feeling it in the way he touched you, made it all feel so much more real.

"I’ve wanted you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. He didn’t need words to understand—he could feel it in the way you clung to him, the way your body fit perfectly against his.

He captured your lips again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every second of it. The kiss was languid, filled with all the emotions you had both been too afraid to admit until now. His hands traced up your back, drawing you impossibly closer, his fingers tangled in your hair as the kiss grew more passionate.

The world outside faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and need. Time seemed to stretch, the only sound in the room the soft gasps and sighs as you both gave in to the moment, to the desire that had been building between you for so long.

Whatever unspoken boundaries had existed between you and Megumi before this night had shattered, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but your shared desire and the heat of the moment to guide you.

There was no turning back now.

[nouvxllev]

Request!!

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Jenna and R are like on ldr cuz of her work, after mooonthhss, J surprises R by going back home early to her. J gets so worried cuz R isn't in the house, and she can't contact her. R gets home wasted, J confronts her, R breaks down, rambling about how she just misses Jenna, not knowing it is actually Jenna who she was speaking to... she mistakes her to be Emma..😭🙏🏻

unbearable uncertainty

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: request! ^^

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: slight angst? maybe? bittersweet??

a/n: wrote tara carpenter smut then dipped. oh my god, i truly apologize for going on an unknowingly and unbearable hiatus from writing. but on the bright side, i met someone whos truly so special and i cherish the most on here :] thank you for the request and im sorry if ive been holding it back for months!

(ps. ive forgotten how to write entirely, please be patient with me)

Long goodbyes were never easy.

How could Jenna ever forget the last piece of comfort she felt in your arms as you held her for the final time before she boarded the plane? The warmth and security she found when you whispered "I love you" was something she couldn't find elsewhere.

You hugged her so tightly, Jenna felt as if you were trying to fold her into your very being.

You always did that, always have.

But you held her a little longer. Closer, tighter. As if it'll be the last time Jenna falls in love with you. It felt too surreal when she heard your voice started breaking in tears like there was a cloud over your heart Jenna used to bring life in.

She tried to memorize every detail of your face, every line and shadow, every crease and every feature like you were a past lover she's been searching for, she wanted to hold onto each imperfection and perfection as if capturing this moment in her heart could somehow lessen the pain of parting.

When you reached out, gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek, and she leaned into your touch, savoring the warmth that would soon be gone. It was a gesture so tender, so full of love, that it made her heart ache even more.

Would she have done something differently? Perhaps tell you she got it all wrong, tell the producers and chosen to live in peace with you and frolic in some field of flowers like a coming of age movie.

No, she could only swallow the lump in her throat and urge her heart to stop grieving for something that wasn't even dead but merely distant.

Vermont proved to be a cold comfort, like winter for a thousand nights without somebody to hold on, stark contrast to the warmth she'd known for all these months.

The first night was the hardest—cruel, even. As she unpacked her bags in the apartment paid for b the producers, it was a far cry from the home you had shared. Despite its charm for space, it felt emptier than it should've been. A shell.

Jenna remembers lying awake that night, unable to find solace even in the darkness. Each thought weighed heavier than the last, fearing you would grow to resent the fame she would have declined in a heartbeat if given the choice, that loving her had become more of a chore than a joy.

The frequent overseas flights and constant altering of time zones only added to the strain, affecting even how her heart would beat. Conversations became shorter while days grew longer, and only letters and distant updates from you brought reassurance. She missed the moments of quiet intimacy, the laughter shared, and the smile she could reach up and kiss, the comfort of knowing she was always there for you.

It was a constant routine of staring at the ceiling, desperate to imagine your arounds around her and your warm breath against the neck. The loneliness was a crushing weight, far more realistic than a mere idea it was. Unbearable.

She found herself wanting for the familiar warmth and solace that only your presence could provide her. She would watch herself listening for your voice, remembering how you would tell her if she's been overworking, half-expecting to hear your laughter or even a slight tone or maybe even the sound of your footsteps.

She always found small ways to feel connected to you.

The letters you sent were her lifeline. She would read them over and over as if it were new ink, tracing the words with her fingers that carried your thoughts and reassurances, imagining your voice speaking them. Each letter was a piece of you, a reminder that you were thinking of her, missing her just as much.

The voice calls were both a blessing and a curse.

Hearing your voice brought her comfort, but it also made the distance between you feel even more unbearable. She would stay up late into the night, talking to you, laughing with you, sharing her day and listening to yours. But when the call ended, silence would descend, and the emptiness would return with a vengeance. She would lie in bed, clutching the pillow, trying to replay the sound of your voice.

So it was a huge, pain-in-the-ass problem for her, the amount of calls and thousands of sleepless nights with her arms wrapped around a pillow instead of the love of her life was a step away from insanity. It seemed dramatic, but can you blame a girl!? Love always had a way of making seem things insignificant in comparison.

Another grueling month without the love of your life? She couldn't and wouldn't even bear it, you would have to finally cut the two parts of her brain in half and throw away the other one to endure that kind of torture.

So what started as a joke with her finger hovering over the "book flight" button while on the phone with you turned out to be, surprise surprise, not even close to a silly little joke.

She clicked it impulsively, without a second thought or even a first one.

Her heart raced faster than ever with the thought of seeing you again. Feeling your arms around her, hearing you laugh, smile, and talk was all the motivation she needed. It was like a recurring dream you’d betray another day for to live in.

And here she is now, at your place, luggage in hand in the dead of night, looking like she fled the country, with that familiar airport scent still clinging to her clothes and hair. She smelled like whatever hit-terminal coffee it was that day and recycled air.

Jenna's been muttering to herself all evening, "Pick up, pick up, pick up, oh my God, who leaves their house unlocked!?"

Her phone, balanced on her shoulder, was one slip away from hitting the ground, and she was one missed call away from losing it. She imagine the look on your face when you saw her standing there, unannounced yet so desperately wanted, not like wanting to send out a search party for you!

It was voicemail after voicemail, a ring before a cruel tone that mocked her for seconds, the unknowing certainty that something had happened to you.

You’ve been M.I.A ever since she arrived, and the last text she received from you was a breezy, "I’m going out tonight with co-workers" followed by a thousand kisses. The gesture was sweet, but it’s not helping now that it’s 12 fucking a.m. and you’re nowhere to be found.

She paced back and forth in your living room, the anxiety gnawing at her insides and the sharp pain from her palm to her heart had never been so severe.

Every creak of the floorboards made her thoughts race, hoping it was you finally coming home. The silence of the house was deafening, broken only by her thoughts replaying your voice. She glanced at the clock on the wall that displayed digits she seriously did not want to see.

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she saw you with her own eyes, until she could touch you and confirm that you were truly safe.

Her hands immediately went back to her phone, wondering if your co-workers would even answer a distress actress concerned about her girlfriend if there was a high and 100% chance they were wasted with you. Obviously, each call went straight to voicemail.

Why is being sent on delivered the most humiliating ever!?

"Fuck," Jenna cursed under her breath, her head lowered in defeat as she stared at the countless of messages she sent to your friends, co-workers, shit even your family!

The only thought going through her head is "thank you for birthing Emma Myers."

emma

just said goodbye shes round the corner

sent one attachment

going back to her place

Even light couldn't travel as fast compared to how quickly Jenna reacted when that attachment processed in her brain. It was a photo of you (thank fuck), looking a bit tipsy, sure, maybe knocked in the head, but you were unharmed, waving goodbye to Emma.

The wave of relief that washed over Jenna felt like an overall baptism—a splash of water to commemorate coming back to a harsher reality than she didn't expect, but reality nonetheless.

She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but she shoved the thought aside. Her focus was on you, and getting to you as fast as possible.

If you weren't going to come back home sooner or later, she'd come to you. Geared up and mentally preparing everything to combat the cold weather, plants of how she would take care of you, and a surprise. Aka, her.

Is what she would've followed through if she didn’t hear the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

The sound was so abrupt. Too sudden and swift it nearly made her jump out of her skin unlike any scare people tried on her.

Her heart pounded as she turned towards the door, hoping, begging, and nearly willing the universe to grant her at least one moment of sanity. She watched the door creak open, and there you were—alive. You stumbled in, eyes bleary but safe, and Jenna felt the tension drain from her body as if it had never been there.

"Y/n—!" Jenna's sudden movement was a blur, barely having time to embrace yourself before she collided with you, the force of her embrace nearly knocking out the ragged breath you had left.

You could've noticed the slight tremble in her frame, heart pounding against your chest, and a hand clinging onto your shirt that pulled you closer if you weren't drunk.

“Daaamn, girl, you walk faast! I swear we dropped you at your street?? Why are you in—shit—in my house??” Your voice slurred and you stumbled as if the very act required more effort than you could muster, mind sluggish and your sense dulled, voice thick and unsteady.

You were undeniably and completely fucked. To say the least.

Drunk, Intoxicated. Mentally impaired. Right, how could Jenna even forget that?

You barely managed to step inside when your legs gave out, sending you tumbling to the floor.

The world tilted and spun around you as if you were a sun blinded by its own solar system. Your vision blurred and you struggled to make sense of the swirling images and a familiar blobby brunette girl in your home.

To no surprise, Jenna was at your side in an instant, crouching down with her face filled with concern as she looked you over, her arms reaching out to steady you. "Y/n… Why on earth do you have a huge straight bump on your forehead?"

"I…" you mumbled, blinking up at her. Her face looked like one of those spiky and blobbed images you see through a rain-streaked window. "I was—I was watching one of those 'how to be a good girlfriend in an LDR relationship' videos on the way home. And—and well, there was a pole."

Jenna's expression shifted, concern to curiosity. "What… What? What do you mean? Why? Why are you searching those—"

You felt like your chest was closing in on you, your throat mimicked those of a barren wasteland, and embarrassment washed over you like a tidal wave. You wanted to shrug it off, to laugh and tell her you were just curious, that it was nothing. But you couldn't.

"Because!" you burst out, voice trembling as you looked away from her eyes, "How else am I supposed to believe that I'm good enough when Jenna's halfway across the world? When every time she touches me, it's like she thinks I'm everything you've ever wished for in a star, and I—"

You faltered, your breath catching, the words threatened to slip away from you, but the emotions, doubt and fear—they had been building up for too long. You couldn’t stop now, even if you wanted to.

"I don't deserve it, I'm not enough for her. There's something more that i should be doing, something more I could be, because how can I be enough when she's there and I'm here? I can't hold her, I can't comfort her when she's stressed, I cant show her how much I care every day like I want to. How am I supposed to truly feel that I'm doing fine and she's feeling loved? Every time she tells me that I'm enough, I try to believe her, but—but there's this voice in my head that keeps saying, 'What if she's just saying it? What if one day, she realized she was wrong? That I'm not great, that she's just loving a version of me she created in her head, that she finds a fatal flaw in me that keeps her away from loving me? What if I'm not who she thought I was?"

You can't speak anymore, but your mouth persists in words like a machine. Your eyes already welled up, you bit your lip to stop it from trembling and forming a frown.

"I want to be perfect for her. I want her to feel like she's never missing anything from me or feel like she's falling short from the love she gives me and I give her. But I don't know how to do that. I don't know anything. So I watch those stupid videos to hope I'll find a way to be enough, to finally feel like I am. But no matter what I do, it feels like it'll never be. How can I be it when I'm not with her? How can I be enough from so far away?"

Tears blurred your vision as you tried to reach out, "I just miss her, Emma. I just miss her so damn much. I thought I could handle it, you know? That I could be strong, that I could keep it together until the next time I saw her. But it's been too long, I keep feeling like I'm falling apart. That my relationship is falling apart for her. I thought maybe if I just stepped back, she'd find what she needed without me getting in the way."

"I try to keep things feeling normal. I try to tell myself that the distance is temporary, that we’re strong enough to make it through, but what if we’re not? What if the longer this goes on, the more we rip apart? I don’t want to lose her, but I feel like I’m losing pieces of us every day."

"I'm scared, Emma," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared that one day, she'll take all her words back, she'll realize it's not enough. That every text she sends me is in complete dread, that she's just staying for the hell of it. That she finds a better relationship than what we have now."

Your gaze was locked on the floor, but Jenna's eyes were on you, wide and creased with confusion. The words you've thrown at her just echoed in her mind, looping relentlessly until they became the only thing she could hear along with the race of her heart thudding so loudly. She had been silent the whole time, listening to you pour out your fears, insecurities, on how much you've missed her.

She shouldn't have. She wasn't Emma.

Jenna's eyes flickered to you, your eyes was stuck on the floor, your shoulders slumped as if you were carrying the weight of the world. And in that moment, despite the ache in her chest, all she wanted was to hold you. It's the only thing that felt natural for her.

She closed the gap between you two, close enough that her knees brushed yours, and slowly enough as if she were afraid that you might pull away. The contact felt like a connection, barely there, yet it grounded you and your worries. It felt familiar.

Jenna's breath as she looked at you, her eyes searching your face for any sign that you were uncomfortable, that you were still here with her.

Without a word, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around you at last. Her touch was tentative, she was unsure you wanted her there, but as her hand rested on your back, she felt the subtle rise and fall of your breathing. You were relaxed in her arms, you became yourself underneath her hands. She pulled you in closer like she was trying to shield you from the weight of whatever thought you had put on yourself.

"Y/n," she spoke, you knew that voice. it wasn't distant or abstract, it was real, present, and undeniably her. You knew this. The fact that you didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. In fact, the moment her presence reached you, it was as if a piece of you had been anchored to the ground again.

You knew her.

The warmth of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as you let yourself pull in her, it was familiar, comforting. You hadn't even realized how tightly you've been holding onto your fears and worries. But now, with her, they're no longe the loud and consuming force they had been before.

"Jenna?" you whispered, your voice was barely audible, trembling as it left your lips and hope it gets through with her.

It was the first time you had said her name aloud in her presence. You could feel her heartbeat against her chest, the steady rhythm that took both of you off. You pulled away from her embrace, looking at her as if you saw a ghost.

"I'm back home," she whispered back, her voice soft like it never changed.

Her words settled into your bones, offering a comfort that you didn't realize you've been craving so desperately. And for the first time in what felt like a long time, you allowed yourself to believe them. She wasn’t just saying it—she meant it. Jenna was here, she wasn’t going to leave.

You didn’t care what she had to say; it felt impolite, selfish even, but all you wanted was to crash into her arms like you had before. You were no longer standing at a distance. You didn’t think, you didn’t hesitate, you just moved.

With a sudden rush, you wrapped your arms around her as if she were the only lifeline you had in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control.

You clung to her as you murmured her name over and over again as if it was a prayer the heavens needed to hear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt and every part of you was aware of her. How her body felt against yours, the way she held you felt like a promise saying she wouldn't let you go in her life.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, your voice shaking as you pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, your tears blurring your vision. "I'm sorry for everything. For doubting you, for pushing you away when you clearly didn't want to.

"You’re finally here," you murmured, as you looked up at her, "You’re back with me."

Jenna's grip around you tightened, and you could feel her smile that always made you float in the air, even though you couldn't see it. "I missed you," she said softly, "I was so worried about you and I kept thinking about all the things we used to do together. I missed the way you laugh, the way you always know how to make me feel better. I just wanted to hear your voice again, to feel close to you. Don't worry about falling short, I'm already standing on a mountain of love that you've given me."

It was her, she was the same Jenna you've always loved. How she held you in your arms, how she kissed you after apologizing countless of times, how she feels in your arms, how she moves, how she laughs, how she makes you feel like you're safe and secured. Uncertainty washed away from you.

[heartmix]

Beard Burn - John Price

Pairing: John Price x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning: allude to s*x, going commando, beard burn (as you can tell by the title)

A/N: originally a jamie benn fic but captain john price 🥰

Masterlist / cod masterlist

Your favorite physical features of John's was hands down his beard. He took a lot of pride into keeping it looking good, often taking hours to line it up and trim it. Often you reminded the captain of how much you loved it and how handsome it made him look. His beard was one of the things you first noticed about him. To say it was an obsession on how much you loved it wouldn't be that far fetched. 

It was a blessing and a curse. As much as you admired it, his beard tended not to be so nice on your skin. During make out sessions or another intimate activity your skin would hate you and get all read and itchy. John noticed the redness afterwards but didn't bother too much since there wasn't much complaining on your end. No way were you going to complain about it.

"Why are you walking like that?" Brandy, your best friend asked as you made your way to the backyard.

You and price decided to hold a little barbecue to celebrate the boys coming back from a four month long mission. He always took care of his team and made sure that they took the time off of work to actually relax. This was one of the ways he could make sure they are doing just that.

"Um, beard burn." a quick mumble was let out as you straighten your pose seeing as she noticed something was up. It wasn't the first time you had to deal with it, but it was the first time you had to play host with it still fresh. 

"You nasty people, someone was excited to be coming home." She teased to which you rolled your eyes at. It was honestly no secret that John couldn't keep his hands off of you especially when he came back from deployment. Your best friend being the only person who knew the dirty details, courtesy of her barging into your house one morning.

"It's fresh from this morning and burns like hell."

"Then why are you wearing jeans? You ain't letting any airflow." She was saying what you already knew. Normally in a situation like this you would go commando and wear the silkiest shorts you own but it didn't feel appropriate for the occasion. 

"This was the first thing i found. The only laundry ive been able to wash is John's and thats not an easy task."

"Come on lets go find something more comfortable, we have time before the rest of your guest come." 

"You going to change lovie?" John asked seemingly hearing what Brandy said as he started up the grill. 

"Yeah, want to change into something more comfortable." You smiled up at him to which he returned. If only he knew the real reason why you were going to change. 

"Don't be long." He said leaning down to place a kiss on your lips.

"Let go of her you leach. Don't burn my steak." Brandy's voice broke your kiss making you both laugh before she was pulling you back in the house. 

Navigating through the mess that was your closest you managed to find a clean dress that was tossed all the way in the back. A simple blue sundress that looked modest enough for the night. Thankfully there was no wind and you were able to go commando without the risk of a Marilyn Monroe moment. 

By the time you and Brandy reached downstairs everyone seemed to be here already. A few of your friends were in the house while Price and his boys were out by the grill in the backyard. Looks like you took longer to change then you would have liked. 

"Go play host while i get us some drinks." Brandy said nudging you to your living room as she headed off to the kitchen. 

As you made your way throughout the house greeting people you couldn't help, but be glad at the suggestion to change. Relieve came immediately when you stepped outside to the crisp fall air. The pain wasn't fully gone but it wasn't as irritating as it was when wearing jeans. A smile graced your face while you made your way up to the boys.

"Theres the Missus!" Exclaimed Gaz making everyone look up at you.

"Looking beautiful as always." Soap smiled making you giggle at the compliments. 

"Thank you, you boys enjoying yourselves?"

"Making sure your husband doesn't burn the food." Ghost spoke up earning an eye roll from John. 

"You look beautiful lovie." John said as he pulled you beside him placing a kiss on your lips.

The rest of the night went on great. Much to Ghost and Brandy's doubt John didn't burn the food. Everyone enjoyed themselves which was all worth the last minute planning. As you both settled into bed John was wondering what made you decide to wear a dress. Sure maybe Brandy somehow convinced you, but it was unlikely you would stop your hosting duties just to go and change. 

"You looked comfortable tonight." John hummed as he came out of the shower seeing you in a night gown all ready to go to bed.

"Yeah I was. Cold air felt nice tonight." 

"No other reason?" He asked settling in bed next to you. 

"I kind of got uncomfortable from the activities this morning." Shyly you admitted making a smirk appear on your husbands face. 

"Was I too rough?"

"No not that, um your beard." John was now confused. What did his beard have anything to do with your comfortableness? "Beard burn." You clarified seeing his confused expression. Might as well rip off the bandage while were here.

"You have beard burn from me eating you out?"

"Yeah, Was burning at bit earlier, but got better when i was wearing just the dress."

"So you're telling me you weren't wearing anything under that little thing all night?" The smirk was back up on his face as his big hands slowly moved up and down your bare leg. 

"Just because i said it's better now doesn't mean that i want a repeat of this morning." You playfully slapped his hand away but it had no affect, his hand was back on you. 

"I'll shave." He said with all seriousness in his tone. John was going to do anything to make you happy and feel good. If the beard had to go so be it. 

"Don't you dare John Price." You scolded seeing how serious he was being. As much pain as the hair on his face caused you there was no way in hell you were parting with it just for a night of sex. 

"It's cock blocking me!" With all seriousness in his tone which you couldn't help but laugh at. 

"Well your cock blocker is what turns me on so it stays. You can go one night without sex old man."