#who as a matter of fact might have a different name

[tiramisumin]

a nonsense christmas

⋆⁺₊❅. pairing: kim minjae x f!reader

⋆⁺₊❅. word count: 4.25k

⋆⁺₊❅. content: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!!!, fluff, some humor, swearing, strangers to classmates/friends to lovers, more mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, junmin cameo, if u squint this fic and the sumin one are connected lolz, if u couldn’t tell i like writing about kissing, vaginal fingering, face riding haha, minjae has an oral fixation, protected sex (cowgirl position yeehaw), she fell first he fell harder type beat

synopsis: you could see yourself falling for kim minjae and sharing a future with him. and maybe this time next year, you’ll be standing right beside him at this same party.

୨ৎ she’s a little late.. but better late than never amirite!!! thank u @tmrwsuns for being my personal cheerleader the entire writing process i think i might’ve kms’d without u bff 🤍 pls reblog if u liked this!

The annual Kim Minjae Christmas Eve party is something you dread every year. 

Since your first attendance your freshman year of college, something eventful has always happened at that damn party. There was the time your best friend had to go to the ER because she drunkenly tripped, fell, and broke her nose. There was also the time they left, without you, and you had to Uber back to your apartment all alone at one in the morning. Your friends always dragged you to it, though, for tradition’s sake. Unlike the other parties they tried to force you to go to throughout the semester, you didn’t have the excuse of studying for this one. 

Besides, you think Kim Minjae himself might tear the world apart looking for you. 

You knew of him vaguely every year before this one, obviously. But you’d never actually met him at one of his infamous parties, or in person at all for that matter. However, this semester you wound up in the same production course. And, well, let’s just say you started to understand the hype…

Like when you sat next to each other during lecture a couple weeks into the semester, Minjae peeking over at the doodles you were doing over your notes. 

“Those are cute. Are they supposed to be butterflies?” 

You jumped in your seat, caught off guard by the low voice so close to your ear. Minjae grinned at you, sitting back upright. You nodded in response as to not disrupt your classmates who were actually paying attention to the professor. 

“I’m Minjae, by the way.”

Or when he remembered a comment you made in passing about missing a lecture for a concert you were going to with your friends. 

“Wait, why was my absence last week excused?” You muttered to yourself in confusion, eyes scanning the class roster to see the words ‘Excused Absence’ beside your name under last week’s attendance slot.

“I didn’t want you getting points taken off your grade just ‘cause you wanted to have fun,” Minjae answered with a smile that rivaled the stars. “I asked my mom if she could email a doctor’s note to the professor to get it excused for you.”

There were a lot of things that needed to be unpacked. One; he did all that for you? Two; his mom was a doctor? Three; were you dreaming right now??

“You didn’t have to do that…” You said bashfully, initialing under today’s slot. Minjae took the sheet from you when you were done so he could do the same.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged nonchalantly. 

The rest is kind of history. All it took was a couple smiles and you were cooked. In fact, cooked was an understatement. You would be competing against more than half of the girls at your school for his attention. While you had the advantage of being somewhat friends with him, that didn’t exactly mean he felt the same as you did.

“You worry too much.” 

Your best friend comes up behind you at your mirror, shaking your shoulders. You were currently getting ready for the party, pulling out all the stops. Every year, there’s been a different dress up theme. This year it’s famous holiday characters. Sexy Mrs. Claus anyone?

”There’s just a lot at stake here. My ego, my dignity, everything I’ve ever stood for.” You don’t pause as you say this, ensuring your makeup was absolutely perfect. All of which were true. Your pride would be smothered to bits if he rejects you. Any sense of self respect would fly straight out of the window. And you’d be a failure of a person for ignoring your own morals for him. 

“I know, but you’re stressing yourself out for no reason. I think it’s very obvious that he likes you, too, Y/N.” She tries to rationalize with you. You block her out, because no it is not. You can’t read him or what he’s feeling.

And maybe she was kind of right…

When you spot him, he’s dressed as a sexy Santa Claus. The rest of his friends are dressed as his reindeer, one of them even donning a bright red nose. The concept is actually really cute. Yourself as Mrs. Claus and your friend as Cindy Lou Who does not match at all. Not even just in terms of cohesivity. Usually the roles would be switched. You didn’t like to stand out much. 

“You look hot, go talk to him!” She whisper-yells in your ear, nudging you forward. 

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, fingers laced together behind your back as you nervously make your way across the room. He had just finished taking a shot with his friends when you approached, that sparkle in his pretty boba eyes twinkling even brighter upon seeing you. You have to admit he looks even better up close, the unbuttoned top of the Santa suit revealing a white cutoff t-shirt, doing very little to conceal his lean torso. 

You don’t miss the way he checks you out, dragging his gaze up and down your body. It has the room feeling a little warmer than it was a couple minutes ago. Your fingers stay behind your back, nerves evident by the time you reach him. “Hi.”

Minjae smiles cutely at your shyness, almost cooing at how adorable you are in spite of being dressed so scantily. “Hello, Mrs. Claus.”

“I should’ve known you’d pick the main character for your own party,” you say in reference to his outfit. “I didn’t really think about that when I was picking what I wanted to dress as.”

“Some might call that fate,” he grins something cheeky as he tucks some hair behind your ear. “Honestly, I think I’d be a little bummed out if you hadn’t unintentionally matched with me.”

You’re sure you look like a mess, every flirting comment driving you insane. Maybe he talks like this with all the girls he comes across. You wouldn’t be surprised, given the fact that everyone and their mom wants him. You’re not sure if he does it just to entertain people (or himself) and if he does, well, then you’re stupid. That’s why whatever happens tonight between you is such a big deal. Getting heartbroken by someone known for breaking hearts is more embarrassing than anything else.

You open your mouth to say something, but someone beats you to it, a pretty girl dressed like a sexy elf. “Minjae! There you are! I was beginning to think you stood me up at your own party.”

Minjae looks between her and you, giving you a small frown that you might not have noticed if you weren’t so perceptive. The girl latches onto his arm like a leech, eyeing you with something thick and full of disgust. (Or jealousy, you aren’t too sure, actually.)

“I know what this looks like, Y/N, but I—”

“Have fun at your party, Jae. I’ll see you later.” You interrupt him with a tight-lipped smile, bowing before heading back over to your friend. You feel so dumb. This is what you’d been trying to avoid this entire time. Now you have to do the walk of shame back to your friends.

Not only do you feel like one, but you probably look like a loser, too. Your best friend shakes her head at you when you come into view. You’re confused by her actions, because wouldn’t you think she would feel awful for you? As your personal confidant, she should be hugging you and supplying you with endless alcohol so you could get over this.

She grabs you by the shoulders the second you’re within arms’ reach, staring directly into your eyes. “We are not doing this right now.” 

“Doing what?”

“You’re not gonna stand around here at this party and act all mopey just because some random girl who thinks she has a shot with Minjae wedges her way in. You look too good for that. And besides, if you look over there, you’ll see that he doesn’t even care for her. He was excited to see you. Not her. Now, what you are gonna do is pick one of his friends to make him jealous and finally get him away from her.” She says, holding you firmly. 

“I don’t even know any of his friends like that, though.” You glance back to where they’re all gathered around the beer pong table. 

“I wouldn’t recommend Sumin, ‘cause he and his best friend are so in love with each other it’s kinda sickening. I don’t think they realize it though, so I don’t wanna mess with that. I know the rest of them are single,” she squints her eyes as she observes the nine boys. “Maybe Junmin. He’s really nice and he’s super close with Minjae, so he’s perfect for the job.”

“Why do you know so much about their friend group?” You ask curiously. She sounded so well-versed in the lore behind Kim Minjae and his friends. It was a little concerning, honestly. How much free time did she have to learn all of this information?

“Instagram and I are like this,” she crosses her index and middle fingers. “But enough about that. Are you down with the plan?”

You sigh. Were you really about to go through all this trouble for a guy? You guess so, since you nod before you even register that you’re doing it.

She manages to flag down Junmin just as he passes by. His antlers are slightly lopsided, telling you that he’s probably already tipsy. His cheeks are flushed, another indication of his intoxication. This guy had to be a lightweight or something. He smiles warmly at you both.

“What’s up, guys?” He asks, energy equivalent to that of a puppy being offered a treat.

“We have a proposition for you, Mr. Park.” Your best friend answers, to which Junmin just smiles and nods. 

“How can I be of service?”

“Okay, first things first; how does Minjae feel about Y/N?” She pats your shoulder, gesturing to you as if you weren’t an active member in the conversation. He looks at the two of you as if you’d both grown a second head.

“Do you really have to ask that? It’s kinda obvious that he’s obsessed with her.” Junmin snorts. “I’ve never seen him actually interested in someone the way he is with you. He talks about you every opportunity that he gets. You know that meme that’s like, ‘how can I make this about ‘blank’’? That’s Minjae with you.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your lips curl up. Okay, so maybe you did overreact when that girl came between you earlier. You didn’t let Minjae say anything and explain the situation either. She quickly fills him in on the plan she curated. Junmin is a little apprehensive at first, afraid of making his friend mad when he knows how he feels about you. But after some convincing, he agrees.

“What am I even supposed to do?” His hands stay inside of the pockets of the reindeer onesie he was wearing, scared of touching you, too.

”You don’t have to do much. Just stand by her and laugh at the things she says. If he sees you getting cozy, he’ll have no choice but to drop everything he’s doing and put a stop to it. At least, if he likes her as much as you say he does, that’ll be the case.” She shrugs, turning around to join in on the dance circle your other friends had started without another word.

Junmin sighs, and it’s clear that any and all signs of his inebriation have disappeared. This entire ordeal sobered him up pretty fast. You make the mistake of looking over at Minjae again, accidentally making eye contact. He narrows his eyes at you and Junmin, though nothing has happened yet and he’s merely standing beside you. You instinctively nudge his arm subtly.

The boy shakes his head and rolls his eyes playfully. “Of course he’s already jealous. That’s just like him.”

“You seem really close. How long have you been friends?” You ask to continue the small talk. This way, it won’t be completely awkward. He’s doing you a favor by playing along with your charade, you didn’t have to make it worse by being weird about it.

“I’ve known him since we were freshmen in high school,” he shifts his weight onto one foot. “Which is a little bit longer than everyone else, but not too long either.”

“Junmin, that’s eight years. That is a long time.” You laugh at him, pointing out the fact that his attempt at being nonchalant slightly failed. He scratches the back of his neck with a chuckle. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You reach out and hold onto his arm carefully. “Thank you, by the way, for doing this for me. You didn’t have to. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves his hand in front of his face. “It was no problem. In a way I’m doing this for Minjae, too. He has the tendency to put his own happiness aside if he doesn’t think he deserves it.”

Your mouth resembles an upside down crescent moon as he tells you this. “What do you mean?”

“He thinks that you’re too good for him. You know how everyone calls him a heartbreaker and how everyone says he can’t commit. That’s why he hasn’t made a move. He doesn’t want to disappoint you and he thinks you deserve better than someone with that kind of reputation.” Junmin mirrors your expression for a moment, and you can see how much he cares for his friend. It’s heartwarming actually.

Before you can respond, he’s covering the back of your hand with his own and glancing behind you to indicate that Minjae was coming. The raven haired male stands between you, scanning the scene for anything that would stand out to him. You’re sure there’s hearts in your eyes as you stare at him, even with the fake beard on his face. 

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Minjae comments after a bit of silence, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“We don’t,” your hand falls to your side. “Not well, at least. But we’re friends now, right Junmin?” 

“Yeah, we are,” he turns to his friend with a smile. “I’ll catch you later, Y/N, it was nice meeting you.”

As soon as Junmin is out of ear shot, Minjae is turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. You peer at him innocently, but you know he’s caught you red handed. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” You act coy, messing with the fluffy hem of your skirt. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek and he glances away from you with a small laugh. 

“You’re really something special, you know that, Y/N?” His voice is only loud enough that the two of you can hear what he says, but nobody else. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.”

Minjae doesn’t hesitate to lean into you, pressing his lips to yours softly. It’s perfect, the most perfect kiss in the whole world despite the fact that he’s wearing a fake beard. It tickles your face as he tilts his head. Your lips tingle everywhere that comes into contact with his, sparks running through your veins like electrical currents. Now that you’re certain that you’re on the same page, you want so much more than just this. You need him, all of him. 

But then you realize where you are. Your cheeks warm up impossibly hot, your nose cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. Minjae can’t help but laugh at how cute you are. Truly, he hit the jackpot with you. You checked just about every box on his list, the missing puzzle piece he had been looking for all along. 

Had he written a Christmas list this year, like he’d done so many times as a kid, you’d be right at the top. 

“Should we go upstairs?” He whispers into your ear. You nod frantically, desperate to be alone with him for the first time, well, ever. He takes your hand into his and guides you through the house and up the stairs. The hallway is long and it feels like forever has passed by the time you make it into his room. 

There’s posters of different bands on the walls, a keyboard and a guitar in one corner, and a desk with a laptop and a smaller mixing board in the other. The room is neat, but not too neat, and somehow exactly what you’d imagine Kim Minjae’s room to look like. You take it in all at once, allowing him to pull you onto his lap on his bed, a knee on either side of his thighs. He’s since ditched the beard. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever go for a guy like me.” He confesses, hands on your hips. His thumbs rub circles into your exposed midriff. You cup his face with a pout on your lips. 

“Why do you say that?”

“I was told I’m not really your type,” he frowns, but then his mouth is attaching to your lower stomach. “That you usually don’t go for guys who break girls’ hearts.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers creep beneath your skirt, tugging at the thin material of your lacy panties. “S-Sometimes, I make e-exceptions.”

You feel rather than see the curve of his smile, gasping when he drags your underwear down your legs. Your head is spinning and you’re overwhelmed by everything going on in the best way possible. Minjae’s hand disappears under your skirt again, his fingers teasing where you need him most. A whine escapes you when his thumb massages your clit, slowly and agonizingly. Your grip moves from his face to his shoulders, nails digging into the material of his Santa suit. 

His index and middle fingers don’t waste time slipping inside of you, forcing a louder moan out of you. The position the two of you are in makes it easier for him to curl them, brushing along that sensitive spot deep in your pussy. He keeps at it, alternating between calculated pumps into your cunt and showing attention to your already sensitive clit. 

“You’re so warm around my fingers, angel,” he mumbles into your skin, mouth still connected to your abdomen. “I bet you taste so sweet, too.”

You whine once more, riding his fingers like your life depended on it. It’s not enough, however. It’s not enough to satiate the hunger and the desire burning behind your chest. You needed to become one being with him. He pauses, looking up at you with eyes resembling pools of tar, unbridled affection swimming in them. 

“What is it?” You ask breathlessly, lips subconsciously pouting at him. 

“Can you…” He trails off, looking for the words. “Can you ride my face?”

You gawk at him, not at all expecting that to come out of his mouth. It’s not that you were this pure virgin who’s never done anything before, but Minjae was more experienced than you in multiple departments. And that happened to be one of them. You’ve never sat on anyone’s face before, and you’re sure it shows because he coos at you. 

“I’ve never… You know…” Your bashfulness has him growing harder beneath you and he can’t stop the groan he lets out after. 

“That’s okay, I’ll be your first,” he reassures you, rubbing up and down your sides comfortingly. “And hopefully your last.”

You smile widely, leaning down to kiss him. There’s more than lust translated into the way you slot your lips with his. You could see yourself falling in love with Kim Minjae and sharing a future with him. A future where you go out on dinner dates and he picks you up at your apartment, staring at you in awe when you get all dolled up for him. One where you take late night drives just because you want to, his arm outstretched across the center console to hold your hand. And maybe this time next year, you’ll be standing right beside him at this same party. Maybe you’ll wake up on Christmas morning to a kiss on the forehead and a tree filled with gifts for each other. 

Minjae lays with his head on the pillows after he shrugs off the jacket of his Santa suit while you shimmy out of your skirt, pulling you up so you’re straddling his face. His arms hook around your thighs just as you unzip your top and discard it somewhere behind you. 

“Just relax, angel,” he leaves a kiss on your inner thigh. “Hold onto the headboard if you need to.”

You do as he says, shutting your eyes when you feel his breath on your pussy. First, he kisses your clit experimentally. The moan that comes out of you encourages him to continue, his tongue kitten licking the expanse of it. It doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm, the blunt edges of his nails pressing into your thighs. 

Your forehead falls to the headboard, sounds you’ve never made before bursting from your chest. You try to watch him between your legs, but the pleasure is so overwhelming you can’t keep your eyes open. His nose bumps your clit repeatedly, and somehow that’s what has you nearing your end. 

Minjae releases one of your thighs, his thumb applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves as he fucks you open on his tongue. Loud is an understatement to describe your volume. You’re thankful that there’s an entire party going on downstairs, because despite being so shy earlier, there’s nothing shy about you right now. And he’s eating it up. 

“I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he stops, pushing down his pants and his underwear. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

“Minjae… I don’t think I can last any longer.” You whine, your cunt contracting around nothing. He kisses it one more time before sitting up and helping you back into his lap. He reaches into the drawer of his bedside table, grabbing a condom and quickly unwrapping it so he could slip it on. The time between riding his face and hovering over his dick is a blur, your whole self delirious from how good everything feels. 

“There, there, angel,” he murmurs into your collarbone as you sink onto his cock, both of you moaning at the contact. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

He knows you’re tired, so he does all the work for you. His grip stays on your hips, fucking up into you with desperation. He was already stiff and throbbing with need just from eating you out. You’re both searching for sweet release, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders, then his arms, then tangling in his hair. 

His mouth latches onto one of your breasts, and you’re starting to think he has an oral fixation, the orifice always connected to some part of your body or another. Your fingers stay in his hair, attempting to bounce on his dick and meet him halfway. You’re exhausted, though, and it barely does anything to help Minjae, who’s doing everything. 

You were so close when he decided to change positions, so it didn’t take a lot to get you back to that point. Your pussy tightens around him, and he knows that your orgasm is near. He swipes his ring and middle fingers on your clit, the added stimulation finally bringing you to the edge of bliss. It feels like you’re on cloud nine, the fatigue evaporating from your bones. 

Minjae is right there with you, gritting his teeth so he can take care of you first. “Where— shit— where do you want me, angel?”

“Inside,” your voice is hoarse and seeping with sleepiness. “Cum inside me, Jae.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice, finishing into the condom with a low groan. You rock in his lap to ride out both of your highs, until eventually he slides out of you and you collapse into his chest. Minjae laughs, pulling back the covers on his bed so you could be warm and comfortable. 

“Y/N?” He whispers softly, in case you might’ve already fallen asleep. You hum in response, stirring so you could look up at him. He thinks he could fall in love with you. “I just want you to know that I mean it when I say things are different with you. I wanna see where this road takes us.”

“I believe you,” you smile, something so pretty like the star on top of his Christmas tree and so cozy like a mug of hot cocoa. “And I want that, too. My feelings for you are kinda scary, Kim Minjae.”

“I could say the same about mine for you.” His expression is the spitting image of one of your dreams. You were in this exact scenario, except instead of confessing to each other for the first time, you had been together for years and this was just a typical morning ritual for you. 

“Just promise me one thing?” You trace random things into his abdomen, blinking up at him. 

“Anything.” He nods, recognizing the seriousness in your gaze. 

“Don’t break my heart.” The way you ask him this, looking at him like he personally painted sunsets, he would burn bridges for you. 

“I wasn’t ever planning on it.”

© 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏.

[lieran03]

Favorite Hunter

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

Caleb heard that his little sister, his favorite Hunter, was in hospital. Yet, when he was with her, he can't deny his feeling of more than a brother to her

Genre: fluff Pairing: Caleb x fem!reader [usage Ayzen as the name] Words: 2.2k Warning: Caleb and the reader aren't blood-related, this is NOT incest Originally posted on AO3: HERE!

I have a writing commission, you can check it here if you're interested! Info is HERE~ [even just a repost is fine, help a girl out!]

Caleb didn’t know how to respond or how to act once he heard the news. Once he let his grandma go to the elderly house, Caleb told his favorite little sister, his only little sister, to put his number as an emergency contact. Therefore, whenever something bad happens—not like Caleb wanted things like that to befall her—he would be the first person to hear the news. Caleb didn’t think that the news he wished to never hear would come this fast. Just after he finishes his mission, he gets a call from Akso Hospital, saying that his little sister is currently there, being treated, and hasn’t woken up since the night before.

From one side, Caleb knows perfectly that his sister is strong enough that there’s nothing to worry about. Being treated in the hospital didn’t mean the end for her. But his rationality was taken with worry when he thought about the fact she hadn’t woken up since she was brought. Was there something with her? Or did she push herself too much? Maybe, there was another reason for it, something like the girl was in critical condition that put her in that situation. The more Caleb thinks, the wilder his mind goes.

It took all day for Caleb to finish his work. The moment he got an okay to go out, Caleb rushed to Akso Hospital, wishing for the best for his little sister. Either she was awake, or she was in a stable condition. Caleb was scared, part of himself was scared to see his little sister to be awakened alone. He should have been there, he should have stayed by her side when she needed him the most. The thought of her waking alone was undeniably his fear. Caleb now wishes for the girl to still be asleep, the best option for him.

“She’s awake once, but it didn’t take too long for her to go back to sleep. She has a fever, quite high. A trauma to her head and some bruises and scratches around her hands. But that’s all.”

“Thank you for looking after her while I can’t be here.” Caleb’s voice was low, it was even hard for the nurse to hear it. As a reply, the nurse who takes care of the strong hunter gives a small smile before leaving him, reminding Caleb about the visiting hour. “I’m sorry it took a long time for me to get here,” Caleb said, brushing his hand to the girl’s hair.

Looking at the furrowed brown, Caleb couldn’t help himself from feeling more guilty. If he was there when she woke up, would the result be different? Trying not to think too much, Caleb’s other hand brushed across her forehead, trying to ease any of the stress his little sister felt. There was undoubtedly affection from his touch, showing how much he cared for the girl. Not only as his little sister but much more than that. Caleb wonders if the girl would notice his feelings through his act.

“Caleb …?” A hoarse voice called out, snapping Caleb from his daydream. “It’s cold ….”

“Good morning, Pipsqueak,” Caleb replied, giving a low chuckle to ease the tension between them. "Do you want me to tell the nurse to add the blanket for you?”

“No,” she answered, trying her best to open her eyes and stare into Caleb’s. His purple eyes were always able to catch her captive as nothing else mattered but him. “Why are you here? Aren’t you busy?”

“How come I be busy when My Pipsqueak was this sick?” Caleb ruffled the girl’s hair, trying to act nonchalant about his words. He might want her to notice his feelings, a feeling more than a brother for her, but what if she has nothing like that toward him? He would only ruin their relationship.

“So you come because of me.” It’s not hard for Caleb to notice the dejected tone from the girl, making him once again ruffle her bangs. “Caleb!”

With his usual smirk, Caleb started to say, “Why are you worrying about that now? When I was sick before, you even tried your best to cut apples for me even though you were barely able to hold the big knife! Or when you run through the field just to give me an umbrella. Unfortunately, both of us became drenched since your umbrella was so small. Your hair is wet and you look ….”

“Ah, stop it, stop it!” Though she felt a bit dizzy, the girl tried her best to sit straight and cover Caleb’s lips with both of her hands. “It’s embarrassing to remember, so please stop.”

“Okay, I will,” Caleb responded with a light laugh, watching the flushed face of his little sister. Even if it’s not because she was embarrassed, there’s a high possibility the reason was her fever, she still looks cute from Caleb’s point of view. “You need to stay here for a few days. I didn’t tell grandma about your condition.”

“It’s better for her to not hear anything.” Feeling weak, the girl decided to lie down again, pulling the blanket under her chin. “I didn’t want to worry her. Zayne said that the fever came from the trauma on my head. It won’t affect anything. My heart was in good condition too. Even Captain said I could go back to work next Monday.”

“That fast?”

Caleb blinks a few times, trying to comprehend the girl’s words. Next Monday was only a few days away, indicating that she wouldn’t have a full week of rest. Worry etched on Caleb’s face, reminding the fact she was sick and the reason he was there. The girl couldn’t help herself from feeling guilty, she knows how much Caleb cares for her and only wants the best for her. if she pushed herself too much, Caleb would be the one in trouble, just like right now.

Instead of reassurance that Caleb needed and wanted, the girl only gave vague replies. Saying sorry to Caleb, saying sorry the second time for being a burden to him, saying sorry the third time for taking up his time, and saying sorry for the fourth time for being weak. Before she could say her fifth sorry, Caleb already flicked her forehead, inching closer to her face so his forehead touched her. It was quite an intimate position, but Caleb knew perfectly that his little hunter wouldn’t think something strange.

“Why do you keep saying sorry? It was my own decision to be here, by your side. Do you need to say sorry so much for my own choice?”

“Caleb ….” The girl, once again, could only stare into Caleb’s eyes, drowning in his deep stares. “I'm sorry … ah, thank you!”

Noticing the shyness from the girl, Caleb took a step back before ruffling her bangs again, something he likes to do as a teasing and as a way to show his affection. Before he could retract his hand to his side, he was thinking about feeding her an apple, the girl already took his hand, holding his wrist tight with her hot hand. Her fever was not a joke, showing how much she needed to rest. The pleading look from her makes Caleb weak, both in his heart and his knees.

“What is it, Ayzen?” Instead of his usual pet name, Caleb couldn’t help himself from calling her name.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m only away to cut you some apple. One apple a day to keep the doctor away, right?”

“Don’t,” the girl demands. “I want you to be here. You said that you came for me, right? Then, won’t you hear your little sister’s plea?”

His little sister.

Caleb wonders when he will be able to get rid of that title. He was sick of that title, he wanted the girl in front of him to be more than his little sister. Instead of responding to his mind, Caleb gives a smile to Ayzen before he intertwines his fingers with her, the one that she held on his wrist. Both of their hand were hot, one from the fever, and the other from the raging feeling inside of him. Caleb’s other hand was stroking her cheek, trying to make sure he was there.

The slow stroke slowly lulled her to sleep. Yet, before that happened, Ayzen’s eyes were wide open, showing horror. It didn’t take long before Caleb shushed her, stroking her cheeks even at an urgent speed. He wished that his warmth could remind her that she was with him, and not in any of her nightmares. Her grip on Caleb’s finger became tight, not wanting to let him go just yet. Caleb’s thumb stroked the back of her hand, giving the reassurance she needed.

“Caleb, you promise … that you won’t leave me, right?”

“Of course. When you wake up, I’ll be here. If you want, I can take a day off just to be with you.”

“You will … but you have your work.”

“How many times do you think I skipped school before just so I can take care of you when you’re sick? After all, you’re my favorite Hunter.” Caleb’s hand stopped stroking Ayzen’s face, sharing his calming warmth with her. “To be with you is more important. I don’t want something bad to happen to you. I promise to Grandma too, that I will protect you and be with you whenever you need.”

“Would you lay beside me?”

Ayzen’s words made Caleb bewildered. It’s not like it was the first time for them to sleep together in one bed. Growing up means different, at least for Caleb. He could no longer feel nothing when he hugged his little sister from behind. His pretend little sister. For Caleb, the one he hugged was not a little kid he used to protect, it was a woman he started to realize he loved with his whole heart. Just thinking about it almost made Caleb confess to her, his true feelings for her.

Caleb bit back his words, giving a low smile before teasing the girl about how she was still childish as usual. Instead of an angry reply, Ayzen said that it was okay since she was sick. What if Caleb took advantage of this moment? The moment that thought came, Caleb shook his head, chuckling to himself before getting into the bed, hugging Ayzen, and putting her head on his arm to rest, getting it close to his chest. How much Caleb loves to do this to her.

“You’re warm for me who are cold.”

“You should have just asked for more blankets. Visiting hours would end soon.”

“But you’re warmer,” Ayzen whined, hugging Caleb tighter before burying her face in his chest. “Being able to hug you gives me some sort of encouragement and strength. It feels like my fever was long gone now.”

“Don’t jinx it, Pipsqueak.” Caleb chuckles once again before he plays with her hair, trying to lull her to sleep. “I’m here now, I will protect you. So, go to sleep and rest.”

With a sleepy tone, Ayzen talks again, “Caleb … why do you say I’m your favorite Hunter? Is it because I’m your little sister? Or because you only know me as Hunter?”

It took a few minutes for Caleb to give an answer. Even he didn’t know how to say it without dropping hints about his feelings towards her. Kissing the top of her head, Caleb tries to be more gentle than ever. Even his voice, the way he talked, he didn’t want to alert the half-asleep hunter in his arms. Slowly, he started to explain the reason behind him calling his little sister his favorite hunter. It’s not because she was the only one he knew, it was not because she was his little sister.

“No reason,” Caleb said, still playing with Ayzen’s hair to make her sleep faster. “Even when I know other Hunters, even when I see someone who proudly introduced as the best Hunters, you’re still the best, my favorite, in my eyes. There’s no reason needed.”

“You’re … silly.”

“I’m your silly, Pipsqueak,” Caleb whispered, his voice driving the girl deeper to sleep. The hands that were holding onto his clothes tightly slowly became loose, telling Caleb how she was ready to go to the dreamland. “I know how hard you work, I know how hard you wish to be a Hunter, I saw your strength, and everything else that no one can ever see. That reason alone was the only thing why you’re my favorite Hunter.”

Caleb’s words faded into the dreamland Ayzen was now in. In Caleb’s arm, she knows that she’s safe. In his arms, she knows that she will be okay, everything around her will be okay too. While still stroking her hair, Caleb heard the nurse reminding him that the visiting hour had ended. With a begging face, mumbling to the nurse, Caleb asked for him to accompany Ayzen while she was asleep. In that kind of position, there’s no way for him to be able to get out without waking her up.

“Just don’t forget to remind her to rest much,” the nurse said before leaving the two of them.

Another smile can be seen on Caleb’s face when the girl nuzzled closer to his chest. “Because I like you, Pipsqueak. You’re my favorite Hunter because I like you. Are you satisfied with my answer, Ayzen?”

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 8

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Word count: 3316

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

Everyone in camp is on high alert and doing their best to pack up everything as fast as possible. No matter how much you keep yourself busy by putting as much on your plate as you can, you're still unable to shake off the concern you feel for Arthur.

It's nibbling at you, feeding on your anxiety and you catch yourself listening for the familiar sound of hooves approach or looking out for a flash of black from his hat between the trees. Something dawns on you then.

I could leave during this commotion.

Not a single person would notice and you'd even bet money on that. A strange mix of guilt and betrayal spreads in your chest for just considering that option though and you shake your head. This is bad. Really bad.

-

"I'm just worried that it might get to you.", Francis comments and you wave it off.

"What? Are you worried that I might find out how amazing of an outlaw I am?", you tease with your lips curled up into a smirk.

The red head shakes his head in both amused disbelief and frustration. "No, but think about it. You will live with these people, possibly even befriend them. Leaving them behind could proof to be difficult."

His words make sense, but you're not too concerned about it. Arthur Morgan is the only person you have to build up an at least decent relationship with and besides, you highly doubt that you'll manage to properly befriend anyone there.

They're all criminals and you're not. These are two different worlds.

-

I'm a criminal like them now.

It doesn't happen everytime, but every now and then when you close your eyes you see the faces of the two men you killed. One a contorted mask in terror and shock from above and the other a cruel, bloody pool from below.

It's haunting to say the least.

"Arthur! Have you been followed?", you hear Dutch call out and you quickly turn on your heels to get a better look at the man who you've been so worried about this entire time.

His clothes are dirty and he's panting heavily, but you can't see any injuries on him. Not even a speck of blood on his shirt or pants. That's a good sign.

Unfortunately he's not staying for long, because Dutch almost immediately sends him away with Charles to check out a potential spot to set up a new camp. Someone pushes you harshly from behind and you let out a startled yelp.

"Move it! We ain't got time!" Miss Grimshaw's scolding puts you right back to work and you completely forget about the fact that your departure is long overdue.

---

The spot Arthur and Charles have found for the gang is directly by a river and close to a town called Rhodes. You remember reading the name in the journal and recall two families living nearby.

If your memory can be trusted then they're supposed to have some serious feud or so. It would be smart not to get too involved, but you never know with Dutch.

Together with Sean, Karen and Lenny you sit at a table and listen to the Irishman boast about that one trainjob back in New Hanover, the one where you helped steal the oil wagon. How many times has he talked about that now?

"And then that gobshite hit me on the head, but that didn't faze me at all!", he proudly exclaims while puffing out his chest a bit and you fight back an eye roll.

Even Karen who is usually glued to his lips seems a bit indifferent towards the tale. Lenny on the other hand looks quite troubled as if something is weighing heavily on his mind.

"Sean! How about you stop fucking around and instead lend me a hand!", Bill yells over the entire camp and earns himself an annoyed grunt from the red head.

"If you'll excuse me. I have important business to attend to." With these words Sean leaves the table and you shake your head once he turns away.

"I wonder how often he will talk about that.", you comment and get a rather hasty nod from Karen.

Shortly after she gets up from her seat as well. It's her turn to stand guard at the edge of camp. So now it's just you and Lenny and you decide to investigate what's been bothering him so much.

"You okay?", you ask and furrow your eyebrows in concern. The young man let's out an aggravated sigh and scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't know. Sean keeps bragging about all the money he brings in and I guess I feel like I'm not contributing enough.", he hesitantly admits and you place your hand on his shoulder.

As you two lock eyes, you give him a soft squeeze. "Don't take everything he says so seriously. You've heard what Arthur said about the train job."

The outlaw wouldn't shut up about how much Sean was overwhelmed with the task of checking the baggage wagon. He still mentions it regularly, because it gets such a rise out of the Irishman.

"You're right, but I still feel so...I don't know."

You pull your hand away and give him a reassuring smile. "Don't see this as a competition. Everyone knows how much you're doing for the gang."

"Maybe, but it would still be nice to have something to show to the others, you know?", he says and you nod.

Of course you know. That's the whole reason why you decided to learn how to steal from people. Now that you think of it you should maybe also focus on bringing some money in again.

The few dollar bills from that one guy from Valentine definitely aren't enough. Sure, you helped with the oil wagon, but got yourself kidnapped right afterwards and you feel like that overshadowed your accomplishment with how much effort they had to put into your rescue.

"How about we head into Rhodes and talk to the people? To look for a lead, I mean.", you suggest and Lenny's lips curl up into a wide grin.

"Sounds good!"

Together you ride on his horse towards the nearby town and he hitches it outside the post office. There you split up and he heads deeper into Rhodes while you decide to pay the saloon a visit.

With your newly acquired experience in scamming people, you slip into your charm and head straight to the bar to order a drink. As you still try to decide which role to play as and the bartender pours you a whisky, you overhear a conversation at the table next to you.

"They're gonna send me out to Saint Denis to drive this bank coach.", a man says in an almost hushed voice and you throw a quick look in his direction. Two men are sitting across from each other and slightly bend over the table.

How very secretive.

Casually you sip at your drink and pretend to admire the many different bottles behind the bar counter while you focus all your attention to the conversation. If there's anything you've learned so far then it's that bank coaches are a promising steal.

"But you won't drive alone right?", the other man asks.

"Of course not, you moron. Yes, this shithole is a backwater place, but that thing will be loaded with money. Only a fool would make this a one-man job."

You linger a bit longer at the bar with the hope of finding out the exact number of guards that will be assigned to this coach. They might even spill when and where the coach will pass.

Perhaps you should stroll over and make yourself acquainted with them? There is a chance that the guy will even tell you all that himself if you get him drunk enough.

In one go, you finish the glass infront of you and brush your fingers over the right pocket of your coat. The light bulge of the Schofield inside gives you a sense of comfort, especially now that you've gotten so much better at shooting.

And especially now that you're a bit less scared of using it against a person as well. Quickly you fix up your appearance a little and confidently saunter over to the table.

"Hey, boys.", you say in a sultry voice and curl up your lips into the sweetest smile you can muster up.

Both of them give you their attention pretty much immediately and you tilt your head in innocent curiosity. "Do you mind if I join you for a drink or two?"

"No, ma'am! N-not at all!", the coach driver says and hastily pulls out a chair for you.

Now let's get to work.

---

By the time you're done faking your interested, getting both men absolutely hammered and squeezing them of every last drop of information, the sun is beginning to set. These guys would probably sell out their own mother over a few drinks and attention from a pretty lady.

The sunlight from outside is drowning the interior of the saloon in a warm, orange hue and you feel your eyelids growing heavy from both providing entertainment and drinking.

Much to your relief you see, in the corner of your eye, Lenny push open the front door and you wave at him. His face lights up the moment his eyes fall on you which is a vast contrast to the two men you're still sitting with.

As they notice you lock eyes with the young man, their features darken as if they've just received bad news.

"Who is this boy?", one of them mumbles irritated and you stand up from your chair.

Even though you have made sure not to drink too much to keep a clear mind, the alcohol still gets to you. You should have definitely eaten something before heading into town, but alas.

"He is my ride home. Now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me."

Just as you're about to walk away, one of the men grabs you by the wrist and gives you a sickening grin, one you've seen before not too long ago. Mental images of the O'Driscoll boys who have abducted you flash before your inner eye and you feel something strange boil up inside your chest.

"Aw you can't just leave like that, miss.", he says in a feigned nice tone and his eyes roam over your figure.

The wide grin on his face reveals a set of yellow, crooked teeth and the stench of alcohol hits you in the face like a freight train. You give your hand a light tug, but his grip on you is tight. He isn't intending to let you go so easily.

He says something else, but you're unable to hear what it is. The blood rushing through your ears drowns it out completely and it's as if someone has put a veil over your head.

Your body is on autopilot and with your free hand you fish out the Schofield from your pocket and point the other end of the barrel right at his forehead. His eyes go wide in shock and he quickly lifts his hands up, letting you go in the process.

"I was just jokin', miss.", you hear him say, but it sounds like he's talking to you from another room. His voice is so far away.

That's also when you feel Lenny's hand gently tugging at your arm and you blink a couple times after you snap out of the weird trance. Everyone in the saloon has their head turned in your direction and they're all staring you down.

Some of the faces reveal fear and others carry an unspoken warning with them. Without saying another word you lower the revolver and let Lenny drag you out of the building in the direction of his horse.

"It's a bit early to make enemies, wouldn't you agree?", he says and you brush your hair out of your face.

"I'm sorry.", you mumble and he give you a quick look which you can't quite decipher.

"What was that just now?", he asks and you shake your head.

Indeed, what was that? You're not sure if you can quite explain it yourself. "No idea."

Thankfully he doesn't question you any further and you ride back to camp in awkward silence. After a while you clear your throat.

"So got any interesting leads?" Your attempt to lighten up the mood is pathetic, but he doesn't comment on it.

"Some feller told me about this place, Shady Belle. Apparently there are some good weapons and money."

You nod. "Worth stealing."

"My thoughts exactly.", he answers as you two reach the camp. "I just need to figure out who I could bring with me. I was thinkin' about Arthur maybe."

That's a good choice and the two of them get along so well with each other. When you found out about the bank coach you were also playing with the thought of bringing Arthur on board as well, but you're not sure if he'd want you there.

It still seems like he doesn't quite trust you with big jobs just yet. Especially not after the whole ordeal with the O'Driscolls. While Lenny hitches the horse you tell him about your own findings and he gives you an impressed look.

"That's a good lead, actually.", he admits and you throw your hands in the air.

"Thank you! I just have to figure out what to do next." It's no secret and no surprise to anyone that you lack the knowledge or experience regarding robberies like this.

Or well, robberies in general and you desperately want to change that.

Why? I will be leaving soon anyways. I should have left already.

But it doesn't hurt to extend the stay a bit. Right?

I might have saved Arthur from tuberculosis, but that could have changed the timeline and now something else could kill him.

Exactly. You're only staying here for now to make sure that nothing else happens to him. That's a good reason and you're doing a good thing.

Lenny rips you out of your inner monolog. "If you need help you can always come to me. I might not have been long in this business, but I know a thing or two."

His joke earns him a laugh from you and you give his shoulder a friendly pat. "Thank you. I'll remember that."

With that you part your ways and you make your way closer to the river. There's a log you can sit down on and you sweep the sand off it before you take the seat. You replay the events from the saloon in your mind as you stare out towards the almost still water.

You still can't explained what might have happened there. Perhaps it was your survival instinct that kicked in? Possibly.

A sigh escapes your throat and you feel someone rest down right next to you. Arthur holds out a cup of coffee and you murmur a quick 'thank you' before taking it.

Not everyone in 1899 seems to know of hygiene and you obviously didn't expect for people to smell like roses when you traveled back here, but there's something about Arthur's scent that you really like.

It's not like he takes a bath everyday, but he doesn't smell bad at all. Whenever he's near you, an aroma that reminds you of the forest after heavy rain fills your nose with an undertone of cigarette smoke.

Is it weird that you know exactly how to describe his scent like that? No, you're just a very perceptive person. That's all.

"I like this place. If I ever decide to look for land to own myself I should send you and Charles to search for it. The sight of you two could even give me a nice discount.", you break the silence and he let's out a cackle.

"Will we get compensation for our hard work?", he asks with an eyebrow raised in amusement and you pretend to think.

You tap your finger against your chin in a thoughtful manner. "I'll let you live in the barn. If the land comes with a barn, that is."

"How mighty kind of you."

Your lips curls up into a sly smirk. "I'm nothing, but kind, Mr. Morgan."

He throws his head back and let's out a hearty laugh. "I believe that you're spending too much time with Mrs. Adler to be saying that. I fear the woman might be rubbing off on you."

The conversation goes on with him telling you about his shopping trip with Sadie and you regret not joining them. Sure, you had fun with Lenny too and you love spending time with the boy, but you would have preferred pretty much anything else over the company of the two drunken morons from the saloon.

"It sounds like you did good with defendin' yourself.", the outlaw says and you simply shrug.

"I don't know. I feel bad, considering Dutch told us not to cause any trouble here.", you answer which he waves off in a matter of fact way.

"I'd rather you go threaten folk than gettin' snatched away again. Besides, how much worse can it get than a shoppin' trip with Sadie?"

That's true. You might have held a man at gunpoint today, but Sadie was still the one who fired. The thought gives you some comfort and you nudge Arthur's shoulder playfully with yours. "Thanks. I feel much better now."

"Always a pleasure."

You sit there in silence for a while and finish the coffee. "Got any plans for tomorrow?", you ask and try to mask the anticipation in your voice.

All that is on your agenda tomorrow is doing chores around the camp and you don't particularly feel excited about it. Not after having such a fun day out in the field with Lenny.

"Dutch wants me to find out more about this Gray family so looks like I'll pay 'em a visit.", he answers and your eyes fall on the empty cup you're holding.

You swirl around the little bit of leftover coffee. "Can I come with you?"

Arthur seems to think for a moment before nodding. "Sure, why not?"

His response makes your eyes go slightly wide in surprise and he give you a puzzled look for that. "What?"

"It's uh nothing. I just didn't expect for you to say yes so easily.", you answer. It's true. Last time with the oil wagon you had to come up with a step by step plan to convince him.

"I'll just do some talkin'. Nothin' dangerous and I guess it would look a whole less suspicious if I got a lady with me."

That makes sense. The outlaw has something rather threatening about him with his broad shoulders and the constant frown that seems to be glued onto his face. A smile begins to form on your lips.

"Perfect then! Will we dress up? Pretend to be someone else? Oh, do you want me to work on background stories for us?"

The more questions leave you the less excited he looks and he raises both hands to stop you from continuing.

"None of that please. I'll come up with a plan tomorrow mornin' and you just...try to keep ya head. Don't want another woman shootin' up the place again."

Yes, that sounds good. The last thing you want to do is make him believe that he can't let you join during his jobs ever again. You want to proof that you can handle yourself just fine and then hopefully Dutch will start sending you out too.

That bank coach might just be the prime opportunity to show that. Only thing missing is a helping hand and you got just the right person in mind.

Taglist: @shackspossum

[pirateprincessjess]

To address a few things:

First: The fact that the creator of the series was 15 doesn’t mean we can’t criticize the series or call it out for being harmful. (Just don’t be a dick to the kid. Obviously)

Second: It doesn’t matter that “Names are explicitly never used”. Haruo Nakajima has been referred to as “the man in the suit” for decades.

The fact that the analogue horror “man in the suit” is unnamed feels worse to me. The person who made the series could have used a fake name for “the man in the suit” to avoid confusion with the real actor but instead he chose not to.

Are you really going to say that a series called “the man in the suit” about a man who played Godzilla in 12 real movies isn’t about the irl person who played Godzilla in those 12 same movies, and is known as “The Man in the Suit? You can not in good faith argue that the series isn’t about Nakajima. Especially since the series never gives its main character a different name.

It doesn’t matter that the creator didn’t intend to fool anyone. He told a fake story about a real person, and people saw parts of it out of context and believed it.

Imagine if I started a fake documentary series called “The man who played a Jedi” and proceeded to fabricate a bunch of documents and images detailing how “the man who played Luke Skywalker” believed he was actually a space wizard and hurt a ton of people.

A casual observer who saw those documents might think that Mark Hamil actually hurt someone when he was filming Star Wars.

The kid who made “Man in the Suit” created fake documents and told a fake story about the guy who played Godzilla. Misinformation spreads like wildfire on the internet. This is why it is wildly irresponsible to make a series like “The Man in the Suit”.

wtf is the man in the suit arg??

Man in the suit is an analogue horror series about the man who wore the Godzilla suit. In the series the titular “man in the suit” goes insane and hurts a lot of people.

I personally hate this series because the “man in the suit” was a real person named Haruo Nakajima, and Nakajima did not go insane and hurt people. I can’t help but feel that it’s gross and weird to make up stories like this about him.

The Man in the Suit series is presented in the form of documents and photos (as is pretty standard for analogue horror). Unfortunately this has caused some confusion because the series uses a mix of real Godzilla set photos and edited/fabricated pictures.

If you google Haruo Nakajima google gives you this as one of the “people also ask” results.

This shows up in between real information about the man, and could easily fool someone who doesn’t look to closely. To someone with decent media literacy skills, this is obviously fake, but not everyone has those skills.

It might be easy for you to look at that google result and say “yeah that’s bullshit”, but people have already been spreading the lie that Haruo Nakajima went crazy in the suit.

Stuff like this spreads mostly by word of mouth. If a friend tells you that the guy who played Godzilla went insane and bit someone then a lot of people wouldn’t even fact check that. Even if you did fact check it, then you would see this first.

Google’s shitty AI has been fooled by an analogue horror series, and is helping spread this misinformation.

Haruos Nakajima is a personal hero of mine, and I’m really sad that this awful misinformation is spreading about him. The “Man in the Suit” series is wildly irresponsible at best, and down right cruel at worst.

[driedlillies]

Yeah Orochimaru’s commitment of more and more unethical experimentation was definitely influenced by his increasing distrust and isolation from the rest of the village and any community which tsunade and jiraiya both contributed to but. There was one more person who was abandoned by the latter. Minato Namikaze. Would have happened if Orochimaru latched onto this small child who in the middle of war lost his teacher because he decided to train some random kids he found on the battlefield (and will later abandon just like him)? Like we know Minato likes experimenting too, he both created and improved some pretty impressive jutsus, how would Orochimaru influence him? How would Orochimaru BE influenced by him? At this point, where he is not yet completely isolated, he did not join Danzo, — who, that’s another matter, definitely encouraged the human experimentation part — and didn’t start to stray on the dark path?

Anyway sensei Orochimaru and student Minato who save each other from their canon fates

[pantestudines]

having a "former gifted kid" type mental spiral

[protobrieile]

ooooooo i am feeling particularly riled up about marginalized community infighting today

[arolesbianism]

Funn oddity, both Ellie and Travaldo have the last name Jones. Idk if they're siblings or if it's just a coincidence, but a fun thing nonetheless

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[frosnpls]

i think listening to a mitski song ive never heard before on a hot night at 11pm was a good idea. i am definitely not thinking about some very complex emotions and trauma i have been holding on to for two years right now

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….” 

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way. 

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.” 

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had. 

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

[sunderwight]

Been thinking about the potential of a Luo Binghe transmigration fic where he has a similar experience to Shen Yuan's -- meaning, he transmigrates into a story that didn't originally have a "Luo Binghe", but rather a different character with a similar name, and Bingmei himself still has his canonical personality and broad strokes modern version of his backstory (i.e. abandoned, adopted, orphaned, struggling with the foster system, etc), whereas the character he transmigrates into has a different background and personality.

So, concept: Luo Binghe transmigrates into Su Binghe, the spoiled prince of the demon realms, son of Tianlang Jun and Su Xiyan and scum villain of the novel he read.

In said novel, Su Binghe was driven by a perpetual lack of satisfaction with things. He had almost everything handed to him on a silver platter, but none of it seemed to actually matter to him. His parents were powerful and loving, but also extremely busy and somewhat distant. His sibling relationships were soured by the fact that they were all basically raised separately by different groups of servants and expected to compete with one another for the supreme throne of the demon realms one day. The servants who raised him also had only limited authority over him, thanks to his rank, so he was encouraged to be self-centered and tyrannical from an early age because behaving that way helped him get whatever he wanted. Yet he felt ultimately purposeless and lonely, lacking any actual friends or companions.

Shen Yuan, the main character, was the third son of a wealthy noble house and was stolen by demons during a raid on his family's properties. He was rescued by Tianlang Jun's people, who officially disapprove of attacks on humans (special cases like Huan Hua Palace being an exception), but not before the rest of his family was killed or else sold off into less friendly territories. Shen Yuan himself was subsequently taken on as a ward of the emperor, as a sort of apology for the whole deal, and inserted into the somewhat younger Su Binghe's household as a companion and tutor to try and curb the prince's loneliness. The empress also took Shen Yuan on as a personal disciple, as the only person able to teach him human-style cultivation.

This worked about as well as anyone expected, which was to say that the spoiled prince treated his weakling human tutor like his own personal chew toy, blowing hot and cold, manipulating and mistreating, jealously resenting Shen Yuan's attention from his mother while also taking every opportunity to insert himself into the additional lessons as well.

Eventually the situation came to a head, with Shen Yuan lashing back after being pushed to the limits, and Su Binghe using the "attack" as an excuse to exile him in the midst of hostile demon territory. Thus began the protagonist's power-up montage segment, where he was forced to fight and survive, leveling up his skills until he came across Xiu Ya.

Xiu Ya was a legendary sword that had been wielded by an equally legendary human cultivator, an actual secret ancestor of Shen Yuan's, long ago. It was sealed away by a past Heavenly Demon emperor, after its wielder managed to use it to successfully kill one of their kind (a difficult feat). By sealing the blade deep within the demonic realms, the past emperors had assured themselves that no human cultivator would successfully venture so deep into their territories nor uncover its hiding place, and so they mostly warded it against other demons (who might want to return it to the humans in order to sabotage the Heavenly Demons). Thus, Shen Yuan successfully liberated the blade, and after winning a harrowing battle against an ancient evil (boss fight!) with it, he ascended to godhood.

But, even the heavens weren't merciful in this story, and Shen Yuan was tasked with using Xiu Ya to end the threat of the Heavenly Demon race once and for all before he could claim his rightful place among them. If he failed, his soul would be forfeit and Xiu Ya would shatter, eternally condemning the mortal plane to the tyranny of demonic rule.

Luo Binghe absolutely loved the character of Shen Yuan, even though his story was kind of trash, and he did not want to transmigrate into Su Binghe, especially not with a mandate hanging over his head that he had to one day cast his favorite protagonist out into the wilds, and then let him kill Binghe in order to fulfill a mandate from the heavens!

Featuring:

-Modern day culinary student Bingmei, absolutely revolutionizing food prep in the demon realms and desperately wishing he could change the genre to one of those slice-of-life cozy escapist novels instead.

-Bingmei being actually a thousand times sneakier and more self-aware than his predecessor, taking Su Binghe's absolutely pathetic attempts at politics and making it work for him instead (between the foster care system and the food service industry, Bingmei takes no prisoners).

-Su Binghe originally had a sprawling harem by the time Shen Yuan reunited with him. Luo Binghe wants nothing to do with it, so he has to just keep on dodging his parents attempts to set him up in political matches.

-Some of Shen Yuan's original household and family actually did survive, so Luo Binghe dedicates himself to rescuing the rest of them to try and farm points with the protagonist. This results in him retrieving Shen Yuan's brother, Shen Jiu (asshole rat bastard feral cat of a guy, Luo Binghe almost wishes he'd failed), Shen Yuan's personal companions the Liu siblings (terrible decision, Shen Yuan's always waxing poetically about how beautiful they are), Shen Yuan's younger sister Yingying (annoying but nice), Shen Jiu's situationship Yue Qi (there is something deeply wrong with that guy), and the son of the family's head servant, Shang Qinghua (weird rodent man, somehow has evil advisor vibes despite also looking sort of like the designated non-threatening one in an idol group).

-Bingmei identifies Mobei Jun as a fellow transmigrator pretty early on, when he absently whistles the notification sound for a smart phone and Mobei reaches for his pocket. Mobei Jun's approach to transmigrating is basically to say and do as little as possible. Bingmei subsequently doesn't find out that he is in fact the author of the original book until some time after the main plot has passed.

-Despite not wanting to, Bingmei is fully prepared to die in order to secure Shen Yuan's eventual destiny as a god. He only hopes he might go out cleanly and with more sympathy than the original goods got. Imagine his horror when Shen Yuan decides he's going to fight the gods instead of wiping out the Heavenly Demons.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny's Strange Gifts to the Bats

So you know how it's common knowledge to not accept any gifts from the Fae? Well, even if the batfam knows about it - I mean, they've dealt with a lot of otherworldly stuff, besides, you shouldn't take things from strangers no matter if they are Fae or not - they might not always abide by it. Unknowingly.

The trick is that you never know if it's a gift or not when you're dealing with the fair folk.

So things start appearing in the Wayne manor. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. A book left on the table in the library, a vintage teacup in the kitchen drawer, a cat toy with some real bird feathers. No one pays them much attention. After all, when you live in a family this big, you don't really keep track of who brings home what.

The book was probably left by Jason. The teacup is most likely Alfred's new addition. The cat toy is totally Damian's. It's not the first time and surely not the last when one or another member of the flock brought something to the manor. The book is put on the shelf, the teacup is now Steph's favorite, and Alfred the cat really likes those feathers.

And then, one day, they all get down for breakfast. Damian is the first to appear, with Alfred the cat in his hands, then comes Dick, who stayed in the manor for the weekends, and Steph, who was here for the movie night and decided going home was too much work. Tim comes to the table with a tablet that is quickly put away the moment Alfred starts serving food. Bruce and Duke come the last, taking their seats, and it is almost like a signal for everyone to start eating. After all, everyone is here now. It is peaceful and quiet, a rare but not unwelcome occurrence that Bruce greatly appreciates.

That is, until a few minutes later, Damian appears in the doorway.

"Good morning," he greets, and everyone at the table freezes.

And then does a double take.

Damian is in the doorway.

Damian is also sitting in his seat, eating waffles, the only one who did not stop when the other Damian appeared.

There are two of them.

Damian-sitting-at-the-table looks up to Damian-standing-in-the-doorway and smiles. His face is stuffed with waffles.

"Goov movning, bvothev," he greets back, and before anyone else can react, Damian-in-the-doorway clicks his tongue.

"You are in my seat. Move."

"I don't see your name on it, therefore it is not yours," argues the other one, not moving from his place. Yet now, when everyone can see his eyes, they finally notice the difference. The one sitting at the table has blue eyes.

Tim all but jumps up from his seat, slamming his hands on the tabletop:

"You-" he nearly chokes on his words, when blie-eyed Damian looks at him, and then at everyone at the table with a confused frown.

"But I thought you liked the vintage films for your camera that I got you? And those four-leaved clovers?" He asks, looking almost hurt. The normal, green-eyed Damian looks thoroughly disappointed:

"Have you been accepting my brother's gifts, Drake? You're lucky they were not courtship gifts."

"Court-" Tim sputters in the middle of the word, looking between the two.

Bruce lets out a long, absolutely resigned sigh. Was it too much to ask for just one, single normal morning?..

Long story short, Danny, being a fae and also just generally a little shit, kept leaving gifts for Bats all over the manor, and they all unknowingly accepted them one way or another, so now Danny has the power to ask for something in return. He chooses to just come to the manor and dump the fact that he is going to live here on them at breakfast. Technically, he just ended the long line of gifts by giving the last one, himself.

| <-prev | next-> |

[timotheechalametsrealgf]

BNHA BOYS REACTING TO YOU PUTING THEM ON YOUR HEAR ME OUT CAKE

feat: K. Bakugou , S. Todoroki , I. Midoriya, N.Monoma , S. Hitoshi

author note!: I haven’t seen this idea being done before so here is my take!

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

Katsuki spends at least 30 minutes on tiktok before going to sleep, so he definitely knows what a “hear me out cake” is.

Initially he laughed when he saw you holding a mini version of a Monoma on a stick “Of course only they would find him attractive” he rolled his eyes as you were explaining your thoughts to a disgusted Mina.

After the pinknets turn, you placed another figure down on the cake. This time it was one of UA top students, Katsuki Bakugou!

At that moment he felt betrayed, bamboozled and might i say offended.

“Why would i be here, i am conveniently attractive!” he shouted at himself. Did you really just assume that him being good looking is a quirky and unique idea!

He immediately called you. The minute you answered, he didn’t even give you time to question the sudden phone call, as he demanded you to take down the video. He then proceeded to yell at you for the next 20 minutes about how “selfish you were for thinking that only you found him attractive, or how he was not a “hear me out”. He then took another 10 minutes explaining how his good looks were a FACT and trying to prove his point by telling you than he benches twice your weight and so on.

At the end of the night you were forced if not HARASSED to take down the tiktok.

SHOTO TODOROKI

Shoto has no idea what a “hear me out cake” is. I doubt he would even have TikTok, so naturally he only found out about the video through Izuku’s fyp. So while the poor boy was scrolling through the app and watching the TikTok you made with Momo, Shoto was watching as well through his friends shoulder. At first he was much disinterested as he couldn’t quite understand why miniatures of his classmates were being placed on a cake by you and Momo.

His interest only piqued when you presented a mini version of him. “what does that mean?” he asked Midoriya who jumped not expected from his friend to have been watching this whole time. The shorter boy tried to explain the concept of “hear me out” but it was to no vail.

Todoroki just assumed that you thought he was ugly. So for the rest of the day he tried to move on, ignoring the sad feeling that shadowed him. His whole life people would praise him for his looks, but the one person whose opinion actually mattered to him…thought he was ugly?

Fortunately Deku was quick with explaining to you the whole situation and you didn’t waist time to confront Shoto.

His sad feelings had automatically vanished when you enlightened him that he wasn’t actually considered a “hear me out” since most people were akin to his looks, you just wanted to point out a different perspective of why you thought of him as attractive, not just because of his facial features.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

Deku was mindlessly scrolling through TikTok when he fell upon a video of you and Ochaco doing the viral “hear me out cake”trend.

The boy was watching the video with much interest, him adding on to your explanations as well. For example when you added Tigress from Kung Fu Panda and you were quick to justify that she had an attractive aura,he also pointed out on her assertiveness.

Non the less, it was safe to say that when his name fell out of your mouth as a picture of him appeared on your hand he was a blushing mess.

Sure he was aware that his shy personality could be an ick for some people, but hearing from you that he was really underrated and that you found him very cute made him malfunction.

For the next few days he couldn’t look at you without blushing. He couldn’t even speak to you without messing up a word or two, but he was more than glad to find out that you were inspired by him. That’s why be wanted to be a hero! To motivate others to try their best, even when the odds are against them.

NEITO MONOMA

Ok let’s be real, Monoma definitely enjoys brain rot and he spends a lot of time on the app. He is always up to date with trends and new slang, so he is definitely aware of what a “hear me out cake is”.

Now, Neito also believes that out of all UA students, he definitely is one of the most attractive, if not THE most!

So rest assured that when he saw you pulling out that miniature version of him and heard you say “im suprised i haven’t seen anyone else point out his looks, he is sooo pretty” he quickly fled to the comments.

He was spamming insults like crazy. Mostly attacking your spacial awareness. “labeling me as a hear me out is crazy”, “get a reality check”, “how could you do this” What offended him more was the audacity to put him on the same cake as Bakugou Katsuki.

To him, it was like you had broken an unspoken rule. So he did what any sane person would do. He made his own version of a “hear me out cake” where he pulled out a bunch of pictures of you,only you.

Kendo who thought they were filming a normal tiktok covered her mouth in astonishment not even bothering to present her picks. “My pick is Y/n because im probably the only person who likes them” he began “another unique pick of mine is Y/n, who only I find attractive” “ and here we have someone new, someone fresh: y/n ladys and gentlemen!, who unfortunately only i recognize the beauty of”

HITOSHI SHINSO

Shinso isn’t really chronically online but i’m sure he has passed by the “hear me out cake” trend. So when he saw you pulling him out of your pocket he quickly understood what you were referring to.

Surprisingly, he was glad to see a person thinking of his quirk as interesting and full of potential. He smiled softly when you said “i could only dream of having a quirk as strong as his”.

It also didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you talked about his looks. How you referred to his eye bags as attractive and his purple hair as astonishingly beautiful. He even allowed himself to chuckle when you noted on his liking of cats, even calling him a “cat dad”.

After the video ended with a few more additions in the cake he found himself searching for your socials and pressing that “message” button.

With a bit of hesitation he texted you something along the lines of “So you like my hair huh?” but it only took him a minute to regret his decision, cringing with himself. He tried to delete the message but you were already typing back.

[215-luv]

HQ AS YOUR TYPICAL HIGHSCHOOL BOYS WHO HAS A CRUSH ON YOU

KAGEYAMA: a shy guy who needs the mental support of the whole volleyball team just so he could initiate a conversation with you. whenever you’re in the same room as him he just suddenly finds himself all stiff and unable to function properly. the amount of times where he catches glimpses of you is hilarious because he couldn’t speak a damn word to you no matter how much he wants to.

OIKAWA: to him, there’s something romantic about surprising you by leaving gifts on your desk and locker and there isn’t one day where he forgets to do that, no matter what the occasion is. during huge events such as Christmas, valentines day, you name it — he has everything planned out just for you. he’s actually good at being romantic and he knows that to himself. he’s spoiled you so much and he’s just at the peak of having a crush on you, what more if he’s in a relationship with you.

USHIJIMA: he’s the definition of actions over words. ushijima doesn’t talk much, but his intentions reflect clearly through his actions. one day, he offers to carry your things for you. another day, he offers you his sweater because he hears you complaining how cold the weather is — and that nearly scared the shit out of you because you’re literally at the other end of the classroom?? whenever you’re walking through the stairs, he’ll offer you his hand for support. if he notices your discomfort in a big crowd, he’ll use his body to support you incase someone might bump onto you while using his arm to support your lower back.

HINATA: he’ll always greet you with a ‘good morning y/n! :D’ or a ‘hi y/n! what a lovely morning, is it? how are you doing!’ with a smile on his face every morning before class starts and it goes the same when it’s time to go home ‘cause he always makes sure to see you at the beginning and at the end of his day. he’s so sweet because although he couldn’t bring you home due to volleyball practice, he’ll tell you, ‘have a safe trip home y/n!’ or ‘i’ll see you tomorrow y/n! make sure to send me a text when you’re home, kay!’

TSUKISHIMA: he still sends snappy remarks to you, but the difference between the way he is to others compared to you is detectable. very. so much so that everytime tsukki interacts with you, kageyama looks at him as if he’s possessed. his feelings for you comes out in a different way, but the soft glint from the way he gazes at you reflects his true intentions — because at one point he hears you complaining how you’re having a hard time at a certain subject, and suddenly he drops a whole ass notebook infront of you, all containing his notes of the lesson. he raises an eyebrow at the confused look you’re giving him, “why are you looking at me like that? we don’t want you failing with your empty head, don’t we?” he says with a snicker,,, and a slight blush on his cheeks.

KUROO: he doesn’t hide the fact that he has a crush on you. it doesn’t surprise you with the fact that he’s already leaning against the door frame of your classroom after classes has ended. he also isn’t shy with the fact that he’s sending you winks from across the cafeteria or hallways (he knows you like it). passing by him through the school hallway, at that short moment, he sends you a glance, a cheshire smile on his face as he greets you with a ‘hey pretty’ before passing by you as if he didn’t do shit at all.

AKAASHI: he’s so attentive when it comes to you. he’ll open doors for you and let you enter or leave the room first before he does. everyone is actually close to having no clue whether he has a crush on you or not ‘cause he’s naturally polite in general —but the thing is, his gaze on you is so loving??? it’s not the kind of look he’s ever given to anyone at all & i’m pretty sure the volleyball team has caught up with his intentions towards you. it doesn’t take long until they’re being ridiculously loud at teasing akaashi about it especially when they keep catching him looking at you with that gaze again.

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

◦⭐︎・love lost

Ekko x reader

Summary: once a Firelight and Ekko's partner, you are now a mercenary, dragging yourself through jobs to make enough money to pay for food. After one too many drinks, you take a job you can't handle, and get hurt. It's no shocker who comes to your rescue.

Set at undefined time, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: gore (not too bad but be mindful), swearing, mentions of death/welcoming death. 3.2 K words (oops), not proofread as always

A/N: icl guys this is one of the longer fics I've written, and definitely the angstiest one. Again, for my best friend, @sahxrii (go check out her recs, they're SO good) who I do everything for, lets be honest.

You have always prided yourself for knowing your limits; stopping when you need to stop, being reasonable about your own abilities. This has kept you out of quite a lot of trouble- avoiding fights you could not have won, not provoking people who were clearly able to whoop your ass. 

This, however, is very different, and not a common occurrence. 

First of all, you might be a little drunk- you’ve just had to numb the sting of your day with a drink, just a small one, in a tiny grimy bar run by a tall man with bright orange skin. Second of all, you’re running on two hours of sleep and painkillers (the painkillers are slowly wearing off, to make matters worse). 

And lastly, you’re in a really bad fucking mood. 

So, when your handler slides you a note with a name and address written in ugly red letters, you think fuck it, and take the job. You should’ve known this was stupid- you should’ve done what the sober, not exhausted version of yourself would have done. But instead, you accept with a bleary nod, because, to be frank, all you want at that moment is to break something. 

So you take the note, drain your drink, and leave the bar, shrugging on your worn coat. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz beneath your skin, your knuckles tingling softly in anticipation. You had never been this excited about violence when you were younger- in fact, people might have described you as gentle, even. But now, with all the things you have witnessed, all the people you’ve lost, hitting people brought a kind of release you could find nowhere else. 

Besides, there’s no one who remembers you as that gentle person left, anyway, so who are you disappointing? Yourself? You chuckle drily into the cold air, thick with gas. 

You stop in front of the building, your hands tucked into your pockets. It is big, red, and ugly (like the ink the name had been written in, you thought), bright colourful light shining from the broken windows. A Zaunite haunt, typical for a wannabe drug lord- the kind of man you were often hired to beat up or kill. You kick into the dirt at your feet, take a deep breath. You have hardly sobered up on the walk here, so your vision is still somewhat blurry, everything swimming around you like you’re underwater. 

Broken memories of swimming in an underground lake with him flitter through your mind, and you dismiss them, muttering a curse between your teeth. You roll your shoulders and make your way inside, striding in like you own the goddamn place. 

“You can’t be here,” a goon dressed all in black calls from the top of badly painted stairs. You look at him, an ugly grin splitting your face. 

“Kick me out, then,” you say, your heart already beginning to beat a little faster. 

Before you know, goons are coming at you from the sides, cracking their knuckles. The twat at the top of the stairs sneers down at you, his teeth oily and black. 

“You don’t wanna do this,” a woman on your left growls. She’s twice as big as you, her arms covered in bright red, winding tattoos. 

“I think I do,” you answer, raising your hands, which are already curled into fists. 

She lunges first, and you catch her with a right hook in the jaw. She hardly falters, but you drive your knee into her stomach. Now, she stumbles, and you leap up, narrowly avoiding an attack from another goon. You grab goon number one- the woman- and smash your forehead into her face. Her nose explodes, red and white flying all over you as she falls backwards. You spin and grab the nearest object- a stool- and bring it smack into the second goon’s middle. He collapses, and you walk over to him, drop the stool on his head. He stops moving. 

You turn to the giant of a woman, who is standing and looking at you with pure, unadulterated hatred. Her face is broken into bits, blood and spit dribbling down her chin. “Come on, then,” you say, cracking your already sore knuckles. 

She throws herself at you, twice as angry as before. You dodge, but she catches you in the shoulder. Excruciating pain shoots through you, and you realise too late that she has wicked little claw-like contraptions on her fingers. She comes at you again, slashing wildly. You jump out of the way, once again catching a claw in the face. It slices open your left cheek; pain explodes all through the area, but you grin. A challenge- you’ve always liked that. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a child’s voice screams at you to stop, to leave, to give up. The goon from the top of the stairs is gone. You falter when you notice this- he must be warning his boss, who is your target. You double your efforts, lunging at the woman. You manage to punch her in the stomach, but your second hit, aimed at her throat, is knocked out of the way as she drives her claws into your wrist. You scream, not really in pain but in sheer shock at the sharp metal slivers protruding from your skin. 

“Should’ve left,” she sneers into your face. You spit into the bloody mess that was her nose and wrench your arm back, kicking her, hard, in the sternum. She stumbled backwards and you pull your weapon- a machete, sheathed against your back- out, spinning it around. She assesses you for a moment, with what you realise now are robotic eyes. 

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

You are not fighting a person, you’re fighting a robot. Or something that’s half half- the blood spilling from her face gives you the idea that she might be made of flesh and bones, but those eyes- you’ve seen them before. She’s assessing your fight patterns, and she’s going to win. 

You duck out of the way of another attack, but she manages to graze your neck with her claws. You slash wildly with your machete, to no avail- she avoids each blow easily, and the ones that do hit, she ignores happily. 

Finally, one of your attacks hits- you aim the blow upwards, and the machete carves straight through her face. Blood, huge quantities of the stuff, gushes all over you, bone shattering under the power of your blow. You yank the machete out, momentarily stunned as she stumbles to her knees, eyes fizzing out. 

“Fuck,” you pant, stumbling backwards, “fuck you.” 

Your victory is short lived. More goons are coming down the stairs, armed to the teeth. You raise your weapon, ready to fight them all if it kills you, when you feel something strange. Your shirt has been sliced open- cold hair breezes around your stomach. You look down, and are somewhat horrified to find blood; your own blood. 

All at once, you feel nausea hit. You stumble to your knees, gasping for air. She got you- you feel the pain shooting through now. She managed to sink her dirty claws into your stomach as if you were made of mist and gas. 

Everything flickers in front of you as the last few days finally hit. You’re in so much pain, it’s almost incredible- had you been an author, you would have liked to write about this one day. It’s like your insides have been ripped out (they kind of have, you suppose) and set on fire, stomped on, pissed on- you almost laugh at the thought as your head hits the ground. 

You can’t remember when you fell. 

Your vision goes dark, flickering in and out. You see the goons approach you, pick you up unceremoniously. You are outside your body, floating somewhere beyond, watching through your eyes as they drag you outside. It is raining- you wish you could feel the raindrops on your face, one last time. 

You laughed, holding out a hand. It had been a while since you had experienced rain- in the Firelights hideout, you are protected by the huge leaves of the tree; and the Firelights hideout has everything (and everyone) you could wish for, so why would you ever go outside? 

But, after hearing you sigh softly and murmur something about the only thing you miss about your old home being the rain, Ekko made it his mission to bring it back. As soon as it rained again, he took you by the arm, promising a wonderful surprise. He offered to blindfold you, but you kindly refused when you saw that he intended to take you up the tree. You had climbed together, him guiding you gently upwards; and as you’d ascended, you had heard a beautiful, soft patter; a sound that made your heart beat speed up and your throat close. Finally, you had reached the top, and he had lifted the leaves to reveal a little area above the canopy, partly shielded from the rain with a makeshift structure made of leaves and cloth. 

Now, you sat in this structure, your side flush against his, a hand held out to the pouring rain.  

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, looking at you. 

“Do I like it?” You cried, almost incredulous. “Yes, Ekko, I love it!” You turned to him, grinning so widely it almost hurt. “Thank you,” you added after a moment. “Thank you so much, Ekko.” He smiled too, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him, and Gods knew you’d never been happier. 

You’re lying in an alleyway. It’s like you can physically feel the blood leaking from you, your life draining from the gash in your stomach and the holes in your arm. The goons have left, convinced you are dead- why didn’t they check your pulse, stupid bastards? 

It has stopped raining, but you’re soaked to the bone, lying there in the dark. Someone has stolen your jacket and your machete. 

You groaned as you lifted the jacket up to the light. A bright fabric, the colour of the sunset, now stained with dark greenish grey goo. You should have known that wearing your favourite jacket down into the mines was a stupid idea, but you’d done it anyway. 

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping the jacket into a heap on the floor. You wondered briefly if it was salvageable, but deep down knew it wasn’t. You’d have to find a new one, which would be nowhere near as nice. 

Someone knocked on your door, and a soft voice spoke your name. 

“Come in,” you called, still staring sadly at your jacket. 

Ekko stepped inside, his presence like warm sunlight. Despite the grief caused by the ruined jacket, you smile, turning to him instantly relaxing as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I hear your jacket got ruined,” he said softly. 

“Yeah,” you muttered in response. “Upsetting.” He laughed. “I have something for you.” You pulled away, moving your hands to his biceps and looking at him. “What, Ekko?” You already knew what he was going to show you, but it warmed your heart all the same. 

“It’s not exactly the same colour,” he said apologetically, “but-“ 

You put a hand over his mouth, beaming. “I don’t care,” you said. 

He smiled back at you, releasing you to pull something out of his bag. It was neatly folded, but he held it out to you. You shook it out, and found a jacket, almost identical to the one that you had just ruined; it was a slightly lighter shade of orange, and the pattern on the back was a tree instead of the flowers you’d had on your last one. 

“You’re insane,” you said, in awe. You put the jacket on- it was a little too big, but who gave a shit? It was your jacket, gifted to you by your boy. 

You blink back into consciousness, and almost screamed. The pain coursing through you is like nothing you’d ever imagined; like being electrocuted and burned and drowned all at the same time. Despite the gaping hole in you, you want to curl up, to shield yourself from the wet and cold and pain. 

“Please,” you whimper into the ground, “please, no.” 

It’s not that you don’t want to die. In fact, you welcome death- you see it as a release more than anything else, from the bullshit life you lead. But dying here, like this- 

You start to cry, and you gag and retch as tears spill mercilessly. 

You are about to give in- you have given in- when a bright light seems to fill your vision. It is green and orange and yellow and pink and warm and fills everything around you. For a moment you think you’ve died, and this is some kind deity welcoming you into the next life, whispering I forgive you don’t worry as it carries you away. But no, the truth is much harsher than that. 

A face hovers into your field of vision, and warm hands tug your shirt upwards. You want to protest, but your throat is dry from all the retching and sobbing you’ve been doing. A cloth presses down into the wound in your stomach and you howl, eyes rolling back in your head as the pain grabs you by the throat and fucking throttles you. 

“Stop,” you manage to whimper. “Why- why are you doing this?” Your voice is hoarse, you’re crying again as you try to shut out the pain. 

You hear shouting- words like help and home and quick- and black out again. 

When you come to, you are no longer lying wet and dying in an alleyway miles from home (where even is home anymore? It’s just you, and that orange jacket, which you don’t even have anymore). 

Your surroundings slowly swim into focus (swimming, your brain sings, swimming in an underwater cave, hands on your waist, kisses all over). You are lying down, mercifully dry and warm. Pain pumps through you in waves, mostly coming from your wrist and your stomach. You wonder, again, if this is some afterlife- if so, it is far less cruel than your parents described. 

But then, you turn your head, and pain sears through you. 

But that is not what makes you cry. 

He lifts his head instantly as he hears your quiet sobs, and he’s at your side, a hand carefully gripping yours (he’s avoiding the bloody bandage wrapped around your wrist, you realise), the other gently brushing soft fingers over your bruised face. “It’s okay,” he says, even though you think he doesn’t mean it. It’s not okay- you ran away, got yourself beat up, almost killed, and he’s had to rescue you. Of course it’s not okay.

“Ekko,” you whimper. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, stroking your hair away from his face. Instinctively, you curl away, wanting to hide your injury from him. He shakes his head, his eyes brimming with tears (or maybe you’re delusional, because who would cry over you?) 

“I-“ Your words are lost in a pathetic sob, and you turn your face away from him. 

“Don’t,” he says. A pause. “How are you feeling?” 

You croak out what should’ve been fuck but instead comes out as a bad imitation . You would’ve laughed, in any other situation. 

“What happened?” His voice is so soft, so kind, it makes you want to rip your eyeballs out and stuff them into your ears. 

You shake your head. You don’t want him to know what you’ve been up to since you left the Firelights. 

He lets go of your hand, and for a moment you think he’s leaving you. It wouldn’t surprise you, to be honest. But no, he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he leans over, inspects the bandages wrapped around your midsection. Your mind instantly flashes to him prodding it, digging his fingers into your wound and calling you names. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“You’re an idiot,” he says finally, still glaring at your bandaged stomach. 

“Excuse me?” That is the first full statement you manage to force past your shredded throat. 

“You’re an idiot,” he repeats with just as much gusto. “I mean, how could you just go and do this?” He gestures at your injuries. 

“I didn’t-“ 

“What, think? Yeah, I can tell.” His face is partly obscured, so you can’t tell what face he’s making. 

“I-“ 

“You’re so stupid. I mean, did you really think you could survive taking on all of the goons in that building?” He snorts to himself. “At least tell me the pay was worth it.” 

You’re somewhat incredulous. All the time you’ve known Ekko, he’s never been this outright mean to you. 

“What-“ you sputter, unable to find the words. 

“Did you not think for a moment that you might get killed?” He puts extra emphasis on the word killed, and it’s like a punch in the gut. When he turns his gaze onto you, you think you’d prefer to have the goons rip you apart than see him look at you like this ever again. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say through a fresh tightening in your throat. Your eyes sting and you’re about to turn away when you see his expression. 

He’s smiling. 

“What?” You almost choke out. “What is it?” 

His smile is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s the sunlight, shining through the leaves of the tree; it’s the rain gently pattering on the roof of your childhood home. It’s the smell of old books and wood. 

It’s so painfully home. 

Your eyes sting, and you turn your face away from him, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. He still smiles at you like that, after everything you’ve done. 

He takes your hand again, his other beginning to gently trace patterns on the bandage on your stomach. It’s such a soft, kind gesture. He used to do that, you remember with a pang, when you two would lie in bed together: draw little patterns on your back with his fingers, when he thought you were asleep. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and for the first time, you wholeheartedly believe him. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, because those are the only words your throat will allow out. “I am.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. He hesitates, then leans forwards, kissing your forehead gently. “Just…” he trails off, his gaze now focused back on your bruised face. “Don’t do that again.” 

You promise him. Not with words, but with the feeling in your chest, the loosening of your lungs and throat as you watch him watch you. You promise him with the way your knuckles have stopped aching for more skin to break, with the way your eyes water again. 

You promise him with all that you have, because that is the least you can do for him. 

“I love you,” you mumble, almost sheepishly. 

“I love you too,” he answers; there is no hesitation, no layered but only if… behind the words. He says it back with the same confidence he gives orders, the words more of a declaration than softly spoken pretty things. 

“I’m sorry,” you add, after a few moments of just watching him breathe. 

“I love you,” is his answer. 

You shut your eyes, and he squeezes your hand.