#How To Fill Your Wallet With Blood

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[stargirlygirl]

you smash zayne's car (on accident)

zayne x fem!reader

summary: coming home from a long day at work, you get into a minor car accident with your bf's audi

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, zayne being the best bf, 1.6k words

It happened in the blink of an eye. You were driving along the highway one moment, exhausted after a long day at the Association. Your music was blasting, and the other cars were well-behaved. Until suddenly, the car in front of you braked. Your tired brain didn’t react fast enough, and you skidded into them. The sickening crunch made you scream, your body jolting forward and back as your vehicle came to a stop.

You mumbled to yourself repeatedly, “Oh my God,” as you put the car in reverse and backed up a few inches. Slowly, you swerved to the resting bay on the side, the other car following suit. Your heart raced, and the blood rushed in your ears over the buzzing song. After grabbing your wallet, you exited Zayne’s now battered black Audi to check the hit.

And oh fuck—

The front panel was dislocated, the bonnet scrunched, and the headlights were scratched. The other driver came up beside you, a middle-aged man a few feet taller than you with a balding patch. Your hands trembled as you exchanged licenses and took photos of your damaged vehicles. You stumbled over your words, apologising before questioning why he had stopped so suddenly. A stray cat, he said. Bullshit. On this motorway? You don’t think so.

But it didn’t matter, you’ve got dash cam footage that will show if any ‘stray cat’ darted across the road. With a forced smile, you reassured him that you’d contact your insurance company tomorrow to lodge a claim.

Crouched down beside Zayne’s car, you had beaten the popped-off panel back into place beneath the headlights before driving off with a pit in your stomach. The ride home was filled with you chattering to yourself, trying to process what just happened and how you were going to explain it to your boyfriend.

“One day!” You shouted at yourself while pulling into the apartment’s underground parking. “He let you drive his car for one fucking day and you already smashed it?! Are you kidding me?!” You slumped over the wheel after parking, groaning to yourself about how reckless you were.

And now, you stand outside your shared apartment playing with your keys. They make a hell of a racket, but fiddling calms your nerves. Or at least, it attempts to.

Exhaling, you go to unlock the front door, but it swings open. In front of you stands your boyfriend, a microscopic frown on his face as he gazes down at you.

“Heyyy,” you laugh nervously. Internally, you’re groaning at yourself for already acting weird. He’s gonna know!

Zayne stares at you, analysing your dark under eyes paired with the frantic look you’re giving him. He steps aside and nods for you to come in. As you step past the threshold, you’re greeted with the wafting scent of jasmine.

He takes your handbag from you and helps you out of your coat, saying quietly, “Is everything okay?”

You nod far too enthusiastically, muttering, “Yes! Everything’s fine, really.”

He trails behind you to the bedroom as he comments, “You were standing outside for almost five minutes. I didn’t think you were going to come in.” You whip around, your shirt half-unbuttoned as you stare at him.

Oh, he definitely knows.

You watch with dread as he hangs your coat and sets your bag down almost robotically before coming back over to you.

Zayne unbuttons the rest of your shirt, not meeting your wild eyes as he reminds you, “You don’t have to tell me, but it usually helps to alleviate some of the burden by sharing it with others.” His chest ghosts yours as he pulls the sweaty blouse off your arms, leaving you in your bra. You cup his cheeks and tilt his gaze up to you. He stares at you with slightly wide eyes, caught off guard by your sudden touch.

You sigh, “Zayne… I’m sorry.” His cool hands wrap around your wrists and unleash rogue goosebumps across your skin as he waits for you to continue.

You mumble, “I accidentally rear-ended someone on the highway.” Your boyfriend blinks at you, processing your words.

You ramble, “It was an accident, I swear! He just stopped in the middle of the road! And so, yea I hit him. I’m really sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to!” He shakes his head, averting his gaze momentarily as he gets a grip on all this new information. His fingers tighten around your wrists for a moment before he tugs your arms down to your sides.

Finding your eyes once more, he asks clinically, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m fine! It’s just… your car—”

“Don’t worry about the car,” he huffs. Zayne squeezes your shoulders before rubbing up and down your upper arms.

He continues, “You’re sure you’re not hurt? Did you hit your head during the moment of impact?”

“No. I was just scared, that’s all,” you admit quietly. He exhales and brings you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your forehead.

He murmurs, “I’m sure you were. I should have warned you about the short acceleration times.”

You squish your face into his warm chest, mumbling into his white long-sleeve shirt, “It’s not your fault, baby. Please don’t blame yourself.” You sigh with relief as he pats your head, fingertips pressing lightly into your scalp as he runs his fingers through your locks.

You two embrace for what feels like an eternity, but even that isn’t enough time. All you want is to be surrounded by his heat and refreshing musk after such a challenging day (not to mention you’re on your period). He pulls back, his hands on your waist as he gazes down at you with affectionate eyes.

He says tenderly, “Why don’t you go have a shower while I assess the damage?” You nod and sigh as he pecks your lips.

“Don’t be gone too long, okay?” You pout as he grabs the doorknob.

Casting you a glance, he shakes his head slightly, “I won’t.” You huff as you hear the faint click of the front door and wrap your arms around your now cold chest before trudging into the bathroom.

After a nice, hot shower, you put on your favourite pyjama set and do your skincare routine. Once you’re feeling relaxed, you stroll into the living room.

On the couch is your boyfriend, flicking through his camera roll. Two mugs of steaming tea sit on the coffee table. He locks his phone upon feeling your weight dip next to him. Placing it down and grabbing the mugs, he hands you one and doesn’t let go until it’s firmly planted between your palms.

“It’s chamomile,” he murmurs. You hum as you blow the curling tendrils of steam away. As soon as you stop, they whip back into a whirlpool of opaque white.

Clearing his throat, your boyfriend utters, “The damage is mild.”

“Mild?!” You retort. “It’s awful! Did you see the bonnet?”

He nods, “Yes, I saw.” Setting his mug down, he wraps a muscular arm around your shoulders and draws you into his side.

He mumbles into your hair, “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You sip your tea, the bittersweet flavour warming your insides. Zayne unfolds the fluffy blanket you bought a few weeks ago and throws it across you two, helping you to get comfy.

You sigh as you lower the mug to your lap, “I just feel so bad like. You trusted me with your expensive ass car and I ruined it.” His fingertips draw swirling patterns across your clothed shoulder, up and over the ridge of your collarbone and down to the meat of your arm.

“It’s nothing we can’t fix. Leave it with me. I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow and lodge a claim,” he mutters. Softly, he continues, “You can spend tonight collecting your thoughts.” You nod while slurping your tea.

After finishing it, Zayne takes your mug from your toasty hands and puts it down on the coffee table. Instinctively, you cuddle his side and cling onto his torso like you’re a koala and he’s an eucalyptus branch. The day weighs heavily on your shoulders, and in the comfort of your lover’s arms, you let it go.

He doesn’t say anything as you begin sniffling and eventually cry into his chest. Composed as ever, he rubs your back and pulls the blanket up to your chin. He fetches you a tissue box and holds it as you blow your nose like a snotty five-year-old.

In the torrent of your emotional storm, Zayne remains steady. He anchors you back to the present with gentle reassurances and even gentler caresses. He holds your hands whenever you try to rub your eyes and instead wipes them for you. And he whisks you away to your bathroom, still wrapped in the blanket and his warmth, to brush your teeth before tucking you into bed and spooning with you.

The next morning, he informs Jenna that you’ll be having the day off; doctor’s orders. He then calls the insurance company and recites to them the story you sobbed out last night.

You wake up to breakfast in bed and a quick peck from Zayne before he heads off to the hospital. He cooked your favourite comfort meal, which makes you tear up as you blow him goodbye kisses.

And when you pick up the rental car a few days later, he insists on driving you everywhere. Because he’s a good boyfriend, not because he’s concerned about your driving skills at all. Seriously.

a/n: pls lmk if his characterisation is okay. i got into my first car accident yesterday and this how i wished it went down when i got home (i live with my parents😀).

[the-kr8tor]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red Hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Synopsis: Jason sees you unmoving on the floor, his worst fear almost brings him to the edge.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, lovestruck! Jason, CW food mentions, one suggestive joke, CW anxiety, CW blood and death mention, fluff!

A/N: I don't know if this trope has been done before for him but it's too perfect for Jason!

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Jason Todd Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*

Jason feels lighter as he pulls his bike towards the driveway, the shared driveway that he can't wait to shovel snow off of its pavement once winter comes. He can't even fathom that he wants to do such a thing when he doesn't even like winter, or shoveling snow for that matter. But the mundanity of the act has him feeling normal, feeling like he's just another person bringing takeout to a normal home with its very normal façade, a regular door and even more regular windows. It's a…good feeling, a warm one that brings him hope for whatever the future holds.

For once he doesn't feel like the red hood in the quiet street that's filled with equally normal houses with their normal families residing inside. For once he can just be Jason Todd, not a vigilante, not a gun for hire or anything in between. There's no blood coating the soles of his boots as he steps around the freshly poured concrete that you've etched yours and his initials into and inside a crudely drawn heart. “It's tradition,” you said with a shining smile. He smiles at the sight of it, remembering how much you giggled while you drew it on the wet concrete like you're etching his and your names on a tree.

The house isn't as grandiose as the Wayne Manor, but just like the manor, it's home to him.

Jason pats for his keys, noticing the lack of weapons on his person that he's so used to that it's second nature for him to check them. He has no weapons on him, except for a small knife you've given to him as an anniversary present that you said brings out his eyes as a joke. He always brings it wherever he goes. When some people would have their loved ones pictures in their wallet, Jason has this as a reminder of you. Whenever he's nervous or worried, he runs his thumb across the leather handle, letting the small notches in it ground him. The blade never pierced flesh nor will it ever be marred by blood since it's a reminder of you. On his driveway, he's just someone who's just bringing home takeout after hauling boxes upon boxes of things into the new home.

Bruce and his brothers helped with the big move at first, but with the bat signal raised up high in downtown Gotham, they had to go before Jason could even repay their help with greasy takeout. When he tried to come with, Dick stopped him with a strong hand on his shoulder, saying that he should let them take care of the situation. For once, he's happy to oblige. He smiles at the thought of not having that sense of urgency anymore. The weight inside his stomach slowly fades in time, it weighs like a boulder, pleading for him to don the suit and rush towards the signal with his guns. But as he looks up at the starry sky, the bat signal flickers out completely— another mission accomplished. If not then Oracle would've called him for backup as a last resort. Since his phone is as silent as the street that he now lives in, he exhales shakily, fists furling and unfurling out to rid him of that awfully familiar weight.

The people of Gotham are in safe hands while he's out here with you.

Grabbing the plastic bags of warm noodles and dimsum, he fishes out the ring of keys inside his pockets. As he walks quietly on the cobblestones, the doormat that you've chosen greets him at the door. It has the cliché ‘Welcome!’ sign on it, for once he likes clichés.

After a bout of reminiscing and smiling to himself like some love sick fool, he unlocks the door with a click. Silence hangs in the foyer, the queen sized mattress is still standing against the wall, waiting to be carried upstairs. He makes a mental note to haul it upstairs lest the two of you sleep on the floor tonight.

The scent of lavender wafts around him, for sure coming from a scented candle that's lit somewhere. The smell coincides with the scent of his old books that are temporarily placed on the dinner table while the pieces of his bookshelves are still in its box. A soft smile appears on his lips at the thought of you two struggling to put it together as he crosses the shared space with silent footsteps.

“Sweetheart, I'm home.” Jason calls out in the dimly lit home. He's met with the quiet ticking of the wall clock. The lack of lights makes his skin stand on edge, especially when you always had the old apartment lit back when you two still lived downtown. And you always reply back to him the second he enters the place, always quick with a first aid kit in hand or a peck or two.

“Hey, where are you?” He asks the air as he toes off his shoes, placing them neatly beside yours. “They didn't have the chicken you wanted but they did give us extra fortune cookies.” Still nothing on your end. “Babe?”

Honing in on the faint groans of the house, he concentrates, ears twitching and picking up nothing that could involve you. There's no light clacking of your footsteps, nor your voice as you mumble a song that's stuck in your head.

“You could be upstairs,” Jason tells himself to avoid the awful biting feeling. First he'll sweep the whole downstairs, an old habit. Looking towards the kitchen, he finds it eerily empty. Save for the warming kettle that looks like you left on the stove with the fire still on. Your mug and his own are sitting beside it, the tea bags are as dry as a bone inside the ceramic. The kettle shrieks just as he places the takeout on the counter, shutting the stove off, he has an awful feeling gnawing at his chest. Worry slithering from the back of his head down to the pit of his stomach.

Jason's hand doesn't tremble as he takes the knife from his pocket, brandishing the blade as he stalks his own home. Heart pounding in his chest, rattling his ribs and blood flowing in his ears. His mind draws the worst, your blood sticking to the new couch, ichor dripping all over the walls. Then a struggle, a lamp knocked down, glass shards everywhere— a gun to your head. And your screams, yelling for him before you're shut up for good.

He fights those thoughts as he enters the living room, boxes littered around while you're nowhere in sight. The grip he has on the knife tightens, the handle digging harshly into his palm.

Just as he rounds the corner, he sees your feet sticking out from behind the couch, laying on the carpeted floors— unmoving.

Eyes widening and frantic, heart plummeting down to his stomach, his worst nightmare comes to life. Jason stands there for a moment as if he doesn't trust his own eyes, frozen at the sight. Then he inhales, waking himself back to reality, walking closer until you're in his sight.

You're curled around a couch pillow, eyes closed, body relaxed. Looking like how he left you— an oversized shirt, and a pair of comfortable sweats. There's no drop of blood on you, but that doesn't always mean you're alright. Jason kneels, a shaking hand reaching to feel for your pulse. The second his index feels the light thump of your heartbeat, he exhales loudly in relief.

“Oh thank fuck.” He almost drops his whole body on you from the sheer relief. Tucking the knife back inside his pocket, you stir in your sleep. “Gave me a fucking scare.” Whispering, he grasps your bicep gently, not waking you up, but just to feel your warmth. Making sure that his cruel mind isn't playing tricks on him again.

“Mm-hmm.” Mumbling, and as if you're sensing his presence above you, you crack an eye open. Meeting with his bright emerald eyes that seem to light up in the dim room, relief swimming in the shining embers. “Hey,” your voice crackles with sleep. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.” Chuckling breathlessly, Jason carefully cleans the gunk from the corner of your eye. You feel how clammy his palm is against your cheek, hand gravitating towards his nape, nails scratching mindlessly at the scruff. “Was the floor more comfortable than the couch?”

Craning your neck towards the plump green couch, you scrunch your nose. “I didn't want to ruin it.”

“Babe, c’mon, why did we buy it then?” He pokes your cheek, and you grab his wrist, acting like you're about to bite it as he plays tug of war with you. “We're bound to ruin it anyway.” he winks, and you pause, flustered as you pull at his finger to take a gentle bite that has him laughing.

“It looks too perfect, and the floor is nice and cold.”

“I should adjust the thermostat then.” Before he could move away, you tug at his hand, wordlessly inviting him to rest on the floor beside you. With a fond smile, he obliges.

When he lies down with a groan, you immediately turn towards him, hand grasping at his collar to pull him closer. “There, you look like you need the rest.”

“Why?” His thumb traces the side of your face. “Do I look that tired?”

Shaking your head, you fight a yawn. “No, you look like you've seen a ghost, Jay. Are you okay?”

Sniffing, Jason cups your cheek, feeling your warmth ebb through his palms. “I just thought… nothing, it's stupid.”

Your brows furrow, concern prevalent on your face. “Your hand's cold, and you're breathing heavily. It's either our house is haunted or you carried the mattress up by yourself.” Palm placed on his chest, you feel his quick heartbeat that's slowly steadying under your touch. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just tell me what to do.” Voice shrinking, you pat his heart. “Do you want me to stay like this?”

Nudging your nose with his own, Jason closes his eyes, lashes fluttering as he breathes you in. You smell like his cologne and the lavender candles you lit. You're breathing, alive and holding him gently. “Please stay.” That's all he wants.

“Okay, I'll stay.” Whispering, you move closer, chest to chest, fingers moving strands of hair from his eyes. “And whatever it is, it's not stupid.”

Humming, his lips brush along the space between your brows, then he traces down to the bridge of your nose. Kissing you softly like a fallen flower petal grazing along your skin.

Smiling through his affectionate kisses, you brush his hair away from his eyes again, giggling when the strand falls back down on his eyelids. “You need a haircut.”

Eyes half lidded, green peeking through, the corner of his lips curls into a light smile. “Do you want to do it for me?”

“Me?” You gasp out, and he throws his leg over yours, embracing you as if his arm over your waist wasn't enough. “I might ruin your hair, Jay bird. I don't trust my hand eye coordination when it comes to scissors. Especially with your nice hair, I might end up giving you a mohawk.”

“I could rock a mohawk.” You grin at the thought. “Your coordination is fine, babe.” Blowing his bangs off his face for emphasis, he draws hearts around the plush of your bare hip. “You did hit me with an encyclopedia dead on.”

“That was one time!” Mouth agape and feigning offense, you lightly smack his chest, scars peeking above the hem of his shirt. Scars that you've lovingly traced with your lips and fingers. “I thought you were a burglar! And in my defense, it was dark out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, a palm cupping the back of your neck, placing affectionate pecks over the corner of your eye. “You got me good though, hit me right on my noggin.”

Laughing, you bite your lip at the memory. “I'm sorry, good thing you were wearing your helmet back then.”

“Yeah, good thing.” Keeping you close, his muscles relax even more, the fear that encapsulated him is just a dull ache in his stomach now.

Your knuckles brush along the curve of his jaw, the same worried look returns to your pretty face. “Jay—”

“I thought you got hurt.” Blurting it out, he frowns at the recent memory. “The house was dark and you left the kettle on. Then I saw you… and I—” inhaling, he gives you a strained smile. “I feel better now though, you don't have to worry too much.”

“Oh, Jason.” Lifting yourself up by your elbows, you gaze at him softly as he holds onto your waist like it's his lifeline. “I didn't mean to—”

“It's not your fault, that's just how my mind works I guess. Seriously, it's fine.”

Taking his hand, you place his palm right on your beating heart. “Worrying is part of my job, handsome.” You beam at him, staring fondly and leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I'm sorry for leaving the kettle on. I promise to not forget next time, and I promise to keep the place lit. And then whenever I take a nap, it'll be on our too perfect couch.” He sighs, eyes gazing up at you with reverence as he nods and pulls you down towards him. “I'll try to lessen your worries.”

“Thank you,” tugging you down, he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Arms wrapped around you like a cocoon. You rest on his chest, cheek pressed right on his heart as you rub reassuring circles all over his clavicle. “I don't mind you sleeping on the floor. Your poor back might feel it though.” You can feel his smile against your skin.

Moving a smidge away, you grin at him, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah, I might need a massage actually.”

“From me?” He raises his brows, a smirk playing on his lips. “I would but I don't trust my hand eye coordination.” Pinching your sides, he lets out a quiet laugh.

Giggling, you poke his cheek playfully. “You don't need that to give a massage though.”

“Maybe for shit massages.” The chorus of laughter echoing from the living room drenches the whole house in warmth. “Say please?”

You roll your eyes, moving down to press a brief yet saccharine kiss right on his smiling lips. “Please?”

“You really want that massage huh?” He pats your cheek, then his hand crawls to your nape, gently kneading. “Do you still want that massage even if I didn't get you your orange chicken?”

Tilting your head, you shake your head with a grin while squeezing his cheeks together. “I'd say that it's a good bargain.” You were on the floor for a second, then the next you're lifted up, legs wrapped around his hips as he carries you. “Jason!” Squeaking and grinning, you wrap your arms behind his head for leverage.

“What?” He asks innocently, mirroring your giddy smile as he brushes his lips against your cheek. “I'm going to give you that massage.” It's a ruse to get you off of the harsh floor, but you let him when his hold is much more comfortable than the floor.

“Better be a damn good massage then.” You say before you're dropped on the couch, bouncing gently as you stare up at him lovingly.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[loverwrites]

winner’s choice

dividers by @/saradika

pairing: cage fighter!logan howlett x reader

warnings: virgin reader, light hair pulling, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, smut 18+

This is me elaborating on this post.

“you just won’t give up, will you?”

logan’s hard to read as he sighs his words; still, you swallow your nerves and offer yourself once more.

“just want to congratulate the winner,” you smirk as you eye the fighter enjoying a dying cigar and his third drink of the night.

hopeful eyes search for his but he simply shakes his head. his dogtags jingle a soft song as he stands, digging into his pocket as he leaves his day’s earnings on the bar counter.

“don’t forget your coat, it’s cold out,” he grunts out as he makes his way out of the bar.

you response is quick as you reach for his arm to stop him, “can’t you warm me up?”

his muscles flex in your hold, but he’s quick to shake you off with a dry laugh, “don’t even know what you’re asking for. stay warm.”

with heat growing between your thighs you leave enough money to cover your share before running out the door. almost immediately you’re hit with the cold air and an empty parking lot.

your teeth bit at your lip as you watch the wolverine land punch after punch.

mesmerized, you take in his glistening skin. you watch every flex of his muscles as he circles his opponent in the cage.

the crowd shout cheers and curses when logan takes a hard punch to the jaw, but you know he’s just getting started.

with seething teeth, the wolverine throws the last punch. his opponent loses his balance as he falls against the cage before losing consciousness.

joining the loud cheers, you celebrate his nth win.

your joyful screams are drowned with the others as gamblers empty their wallets and fill yours.

you push through the drunk crowds as you reach his corner of the cage. looking up you see a bloody fist rise an inch of whiskey to his lips.

pressing your hand against the cage, your fingers reach for his body as you shamelessly ask, “can i buy you another?”

despite the loud crowd, you can hear his scoff.

standing on the pedestal, he stands taller than ever as he stares down at you. the lights behind him hide his face, but you know he’s has the same playful smile.

“spending all your prize money on me?”

“is a drink too much?”

your eyes dip below his belt, it’s only for a second, but he catches it.

“how bout a helping hand?”

your eyes follow him as he steps out of the cage. standing in the light, you see a large bruise decorating his jaw and your fingers twitch to ease his pain.

“a hand?”

“or mouth?”

blood pumping from adrenaline travels to his cock as he looks into your eyes.

“winner’s choice,” you wink.

they are filled with lust but he sees through your act.

he sees the way your leg bounces nervously when you flirt with in at the bar.

his ears pick up on your shaky breath as you offer yourself to him once more.

testing his theory, healing knuckles brush your cheek, shocking you both. you swear, his touch has your skin tingling as his hand travels to the back of your neck. he pulls you close causing you to fall onto his chest and your hands land on his bare chest to maintain your balance.

freezing under his touch, all confidence seems to vanish from your body and a smirk appears on his face. he lets his eyes fall to your parted lips and wastes no time pressing a soft kiss on them.

barely pulling away, his lips slightly brush against yours as he whispers his next words, “maybe next time.”

after that kiss, your efforts at getting your hand in his pants double.

you sit closer to him at the bar, brushing your knee against his as you sip on your drink. throughout the night you make it your mission to turn your body to face him, slotting your knee between his.

his eyes pick up the way you scoot yourself closer to him, your knee rubbing against his inner thigh.

“you’re playing a dangerous game.”

his words bring a smile to your face, “doesn’t seem like you mind.”

his eyes follow yours as you hint at his stiff cock.

the outline of his cock has your mouth watering as it fights against the dark denim. the head of his cock rests against his thigh, the tip sits closer to your knee when you scoot yourself even closer.

“i can help with that.”

the words leave your mouth before you can think of the consequences.

the battle logan fights in his head is evident, his hand stopping yours when it begin to slide up his thigh. he starts to shake his head, fails to say no, instead he whispers, “come on.”

your heart pounds with excitement as you let him pull you to the empty restroom.

with your back against the locked door, his hands cradle your neck, pulling you into a rough kiss.

your head spins when he kisses you, the kiss is nothing like your last one.

the kiss is messy. his tongue peeks out to lick your bottom lip, a silent command to let him in.

inexperienced and lost, you keep your mouth shut, instead you thread your fingers through his hair and tug.

the groan that escapes his lips has you tugging against, this time harder.

“you have no idea what you do to me.”

the confession has you pulling away, your lips shining with his spit and your eyes wide.

“really?” your eyebrows raised to your forehead, questioning if the man sporting the biggest hard on is actually attracted to you.

he only chuckles before pulling you into another kiss. his lips part, waiting for your tongue, but he’s only met with your lips once more. your lips kiss his teeth.

he should have known right then and there, it’s clear you lack experience.

embarrassment floods your veins but he pays it no mind. he mumbles a soft, “open up.”

instead of oversharing, you listen.

his lower lip slots between yours, licking your upper lip before he deepens the kiss. he slips his tongue inside and gently licks yours. he tastes like cigars and whiskey, the combination making you lightheaded.

fingers tangled in his hair fall to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, letting him take control.

the hands that cradle your face tilt your head to the right, handling you so he can suck your tongue into his mouth.

its a weird sensation, one that has you whining and pressing your body against his.

his knees pushes itself between your thighs, urging you to grind on his thigh. warm between your legs you grind harder against his thigh, desperate to ease the ache that been growing inside you for weeks.

a hand holding your face drops to your waist. sneakily, his hand slips in your butt pocket, squeezing your flesh through the denim, pushing you harder against him. it’s a playful squeeze which causes you to gasp against his mouth.

“you all talk?”

theres a smirk on his face when he pulls away. your eyes still shut, brows twisted as the pleasure begins to take over. your lips shine with the combination of spit and still waiting for his next kiss.

it takes a moment for you to recover. shaking your head ‘no’ you fall to your knees before he can mutter another teasing word.

swallowing down your nerves, you stare at the bulge in front of you. undoing his pants you’re immediately met with a trial of hair sitting above his cock. logan helps you by pushing down his jeans and suddenly your face to face with his cock.

his cock sinks from its own heavy weight, but you’re quick to catch him. wrapping a warm hand around his cock, squeezing softly.

pressing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock, humming at his salty taste. mimicking his kisses from earlier you stick out your tongue and lick, wetting his cock further, easing the tip into your warm mouth.

“that’s it,” his head tilts back, “so good.”

the praise goes straight between your thighs and you flutter your eyes closed. heavy weight of him presses onto your tongue as you slide your mouth up his cock.

curling your hand around the length your mouth can’t reach, you attempt to set a slow pace. it’s miscalculated and awkward, almost as if you’re trying to tease him.

he whispers encouraging words when you do manage to set a pace, but it’s quickly lost when you pull off to suck in a deep breath.

“can you help me?”

eyes fall to your teary ones. logan stares at your helpless look, lips swollen and shiny with your spit. his cock wet with your drool, twitches in front of your warm mouth.

he doesn’t say a word, instead he steps closer to you. losing your balance on your knees, your ass lands on your heels, before your head can hit the wall, logan squeezes his hand behind you.

trapped between the wall and his body, you have no where to go. with no room to move you’re forced to stare up at the grinning man.

“open up,” he mumbles the same orders, smearing the tip of his cock on your lips.

widening your mouth logan wastes no time slapping his cock on your tongue. he lets out a soft sigh when you wrap your lips around him, sucking around his leaking tip.

mastering what you failed to do, logan sets a steady pace, thrusting into your mouth and giving you a second to breath between every other thrust.

the hand behind your head scratches your scalp reminding you the wall is keeping you in your place. wetting his cock, you suppress a giggle when curly hairs tickle your nose.

curses fall past his lips when he hits the back of your throat, groaning when you swallow around his cock. the feeling of your throat closing has him leaning on the wall, “that’s it, so good for me.”

eager to please him you swallow again, ignoring fuzzy feeling in your head and your desperate need to breathe.

blinking the tears out of your eyes, you stare up at logan, moaning when you see him.

a broken moan escapes his lips, brows tight and furrowed in concentration. his eyes roll back, balls tightening and threatening to spill into your mouth.

he warns you.

a loud groan fills the room, but that only makes you work harder.

your nails dig into his thighs, pushing his hips close to your face. ignoring the painful ache in your jaw, the urge to pull off and get a second to breath, you watch as the man you’ve been hunting is finally falling off the edge.

“fuck.”

his thrusts stutter as he spills into your mouth. he comes down your throat and you hum at the taste. it’s interesting.

stronger than the salty taste that lingered on your lips from his teasing taps. it’s manly and a lot, making you panic to swallow everything.

he manages to regain his bearing when as he steps back, giving you space to ease the grow pain in your knees.

“you okay?”

he helps you stand with shaky knees.

with a sore jaw, you mouth a silent ‘yes’ before you clear your scratchy throat with a cough.

“was that okay?”

instead of answering, logan pulls you in for a kiss. barely giving you time to recover, he reaches down your jeans, popping the button.

your hand catches his wrist before he can go any further, “wait.”

he hums in response, trailing his lips down your neck, “what is it?”

“i’ve never done this before.”

Logan Howlett Masterlist

please reblog! comment! show some love!!!❤️

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ First Ultrasound

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluffff, emotional reader and emotional LI, this is just cute, i also don’t know a thing about pregnancy so this is like not fully accurate

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Your first ultrasound

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your fingers are laced with Rafayel’s as he guides you gently through the private clinic entrance, your other hand resting protectively over your tummy beneath your lacey designer dress. You’d picked it specifically for today, wanting to look soft and glowing, even though Raf would say you always do.

He hasn’t let go of your hand since you left the estate. Not in the car. Not in the elevator. Not in the waiting room. And not now, as you walk into the dimly lit ultrasound room together.

He’s dressed simply today, slacks, a loose soft knit top, But his eyes, those eerie, beautiful blue-pink eyes, are focused entirely on you with a mixture of reverence and silent anxiety.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he murmurs, helping you onto the plush, private clinic bed with practiced ease, kissing your cheek, then your wrist. “Tell me if you feel uncomfortable. I’ll kill someone.”

You giggle softly, but he’s serious.

The sonographer enters with a kind smile, but Rafayel doesn’t look at her, not really. His full attention is on you, and when your dress is gently lifted to expose your lower belly, he immediately pulls a soft cashmere throw from his bag to drape over your thighs. “She gets cold easily,” he says protectively.

And when the gel touches your skin and the wand is pressed down, you suddenly freeze, heart racing.

He sees it. Instantly.

His hand strokes your hair. “Shhh. I’m right here, princess. Don’t be scared. You’re so brave already, carrying our baby. Just breathe.”

Then, a faint, irregular thumping fills the room.

The sonographer smiles. “There it is. One healthy heartbeat.”

You both go silent.

Rafayel’s fingers tighten around yours.

His lips part just slightly, pink eyes wide in awe as he stares at the monitor showing a tiny flickering form. “That’s…” His voice breaks softly, and he clears it, blinking a few times too quickly. “That’s ours?”

You nod tearfully. “That’s our baby.”

And then he leans in, pressing the softest kiss to your temple, then to your hand, then to your belly, whispering so only you can hear,

“I’ll love you forever. Both of you.”

When the screen shows a clearer image, the sonographer offers to print it, and Rafayel immediately says yes. Not one, not two, but ten copies. One for every place he could possibly want to hide it, his wallet, your jewelry box, his studio drawer, your nightstand, the inside of his coat pocket.

You tease him for it, but his only response is to kiss your tummy and say, “How could I not want the first photo of our baby everywhere I go?”

As you leave the room, you feel a soft weight settle on your shoulders. His favorite shawl, draped carefully over you.

“My muse,” he whispers. “My wife. The mother of my baby. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

And as you walk out with him, his arm firmly around you, ultrasound photo in hand, you realize just how badly he’s already fallen for the tiny little heartbeat you’re carrying inside you.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne is calm. Collected. Silent.

But you can feel how tightly he’s holding your hand.

The waiting room is luxurious, of course. He would never let you go to a regular clinic, no, this is one of the best OB-GYN suites in the city, one he personally vetted down to the flooring material and the blood pressure cuffs. But right now, he’s not Surgeon Zayne.

He’s just your husband. Sitting beside you. Thumb brushing the back of your hand. Not saying much, but watching everything.

“You nervous?” you ask gently, leaning against his shoulder.

His hazel green eyes flick to yours. He hesitates, then gives a small nod. “A little.” Then, quieter: “I’m used to fixing hearts. Not watching my own grow in someone else’s body.”

You stare at him. “Zaynie… that was poetic.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his black hair. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

You giggle. But it calms you both a little.

Soon, you’re called in, and Zayne’s back to helping you sit up, smoothing your hair, adjusting your gown for you before the doctor even has the chance to enter. He’s quiet again as the machine hums to life and gel is pressed to your belly, his body perfectly still beside you.

Until it happens.

That sound.

That fast, flickering little heartbeat.

His hand flinches in yours. And his eyes, God, his eyes.

Hazel green, wide with something fragile and unfamiliar.

“…That’s ours?” he says hoarsely.

The screen shows the tiniest silhouette. Barely the size of a lime. But unmistakably alive.

The doctor confirms it, perfect heartbeat, right where it should be. You look at Zayne. And for once… he doesn’t look away.

He swallows hard. And then, reaches toward the screen, as if his fingers might touch what’s on it. “That’s…” He stops. Can’t find the words. You squeeze his hand for him.

“That’s our baby.”

He blinks. Stares down at your belly, still exposed and glistening with gel. Then leans down and presses a kiss, gentle, reverent, right beside your navel. His voice is low, meant only for you and the baby.

“I’ve never let a patient go without a heartbeat. And I never will. Not this one. Not mine.”

You tear up.

“Zayne…”

But he’s already wiping it for you. Thumb beneath your eye. His face unreadable, except for the way he’s trembling just slightly.

You leave with the photo in your hand, his arm looped tightly around you, as if any distance between you and him or the baby is unacceptable now.

He drives one-handed, the other palm resting securely on your thigh. “You’re not lifting a finger for the rest of this pregnancy,” he murmurs. “No chores. No stress. No meetings. You just rest, and I’ll do everything else.”

“I already don’t lift a finger,” you tease.

He smirks. “Then let’s make it official.”

And at home, the first thing he does is tuck the printed ultrasound photo into a leather-bound folder in his personal safe, right next to your wedding photo.

His most irreplaceable things.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

He fell asleep in the ultrasound waiting room.

Curled beside you, head resting against your shoulder, silver hair soft against your neck, long lashes fluttering faintly as he dozed with your pink quilted bag in his lap. He was trying to stay awake for you, he really was, but he’s Xavier.

Sleepy. Soft. Sweet. Yours.

And when the nurse calls your name, his head lifts slowly, blearily, until he realizes what this appointment is.

Then he blinks at you.

“…The baby?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “We’re going to see them.”

Suddenly, he’s fully awake.

—

He walks into the room with you, eyes scanning everything, walls, wires, machine. You can feel his energy shift. Alert. A little tense. You know why. He’s not used to situations he can’t control. But the moment you lie back on the padded bed, he’s right at your side again.

Long fingers lace through yours.

You look up and smile. “You okay?”

He nods. Hesitates. Then whispers, “I think my chest hurts.”

You blink. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at the screen. “Maybe I love you too much.”

You nearly cry right then and there.

—

Then the wand is pressed to your belly. The screen lights up.

And you both hear it.

That tiny, galloping flutter of a heartbeat.

Xavier’s whole body stills.

He stares at the screen, wide-eyed and almost dazed, lips slightly parted. “That’s… in you?” he whispers.

You laugh through your tears. “Yes, baby. That’s our baby.”

His hand trembles in yours.

Then suddenly, he crouches beside the bed, arms around your waist, forehead pressing gently to the side of your belly. You feel him breathe in. Like he’s grounding himself. Like this is real now.

“I’ve never been scared of anything,” he murmurs, eyes closed.

“But I think I’d burn every star in this universe if it meant protecting the two of you.”

The technician offers a print of the image, and Xavier takes it in both hands like it’s fragile starlight. He stares at it in silence for a long, long time.

Later, at home, he sets it beside your bed. And then beside the bathtub. And then inside the book he was reading. And finally folds one into his wallet. Just so your baby is always close.

And that night, when you’re cuddled in bed, he falls asleep murmuring to your belly—

“You can hear me, right? It’s Daddy. Stay safe in there, okay? Mama needs you. I do too.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’re not surprised the ultrasound clinic has been shut down for the hour.

Sylus doesn’t do public.

The receptionist was pale when she handed you a handmade welcome basket and personally escorted you into the luxury suite, stammering through how honored they were to serve you. You didn’t have the heart to tell her this was a standard checkup.

Sylus had already handled everything.

Your smug, unbothered husband sits beside you with one leg crossed over the other, red eyes half-lidded, one hand resting possessively on your thigh. He’s in an all-black suit, no tie, silver hair slicked back like he’s at a board meeting.

But you can feel the tension.

He’s pretending to be bored.

But his fingers keep twitching against your dress.

“You’re nervous,” you whisper.

He scoffs lightly. “Of course I am. You’re carrying the most valuable thing I’ve ever created.”

You blink at him. “Sy—”

He cuts you off with a sharp glance, lips twitching. “I meant my child. But go ahead and blush, pretty girl.”

You do.

—

Once the scan begins, he straightens instantly. All sarcasm gone. The moment the heartbeat comes through, fast, strong, fluttering, his expression drops completely.

Cold, calculating Sylus goes silent.

His red eyes fixate on the screen.

“…Is that real?” he mutters, suddenly sounding almost human.

The technician confirms. Healthy, steady, right on track.

His jaw flexes. Then he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, fingers pressed together as he stares at the monitor.

“That’s my child,” he says slowly. “That’s mine. Growing inside you.”

Then his voice lowers, softer than you’ve ever heard it:

“I didn’t think… I’d feel anything like this.”

He swallows. And then does something that shocks even you.

He kneels.

Right there beside the bed, in his thousand-dollar suit, palms on your hips as he lowers his head and presses a kiss to your belly. Reverent. Serious. Emotional.

“I will buy you empires,” he whispers. “But this, ” he looks up at you, red eyes burning, “you gave me the only thing I couldn’t buy. You gave me legacy.”

You don’t speak. You can’t. You’re crying too hard.

—

Later, when the technician hands you the printout, Sylus barely lets you touch it. He takes it himself and immediately messages his assistant to have it gold-embossed, framed, and placed in his private weapons room, next to the N109 zone map that he built his empire on.

And that night, when you’re curled in silk sheets, he pulls you close and lays a possessive hand over your belly.

“I don’t care how spoiled this baby is. You’re not lifting a finger for the next nine months. All that matters now,” he murmurs against your neck, “is that you’re both safe. And mine.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You don’t walk into the hospital.

Caleb carries you.

Not because you’re too tired to walk. Not because you asked him to.

Because you yawned once in the car, and he immediately decided the elevator, the tiled floor, the entire sterile hallway was unfit for your feet.

“My wife doesn’t touch public surfaces,” he mutters under his breath, cradling you in his strong arms like you’re the most delicate creature alive. “Not when she’s carrying something this important.”

You pout. “Caleb… I’m pregnant, not dying.”

“I know,” he replies coolly, “which is exactly why I’m making sure you don’t.”

—

The ultrasound room is private, of course, Skyhaven exclusive, locked down, guarded by two silent officers in full black gear. Caleb arranged it personally, reviewed every staff member’s file, and installed extra biometric scanners on the doors.

The technician doesn’t even try to look you in the eye. She’s visibly terrified of your husband.

But Caleb’s only focus is you.

His hand is gentle as he adjusts your dress. His voice is soft as he tucks a pillow behind your head. His eyes never leave your face, even when the machine starts, even when the screen flickers to life.

And then,

The heartbeat.

Fast. Tiny. Rhythmic.

You gasp. The sound punches you straight in the chest.

Caleb goes completely still.

You turn your head, and you see it, his eyes are red. Shining.

“That’s our baby,” you whisper.

He nods slowly. “That’s my family.”

You’re not sure when he let go of his cold colonel expression. But now, he’s just a man. A husband. A soon-to-be dad.

One hand cups your cheek. The other rests over your belly. You feel his thumb trembling.

He murmurs, so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “I protected you my whole life. But this, this is more than I ever thought I’d deserve.”

You whisper back, “You deserve all of it. Me. This baby. Everything.”

He kisses you hard, like he’s anchoring himself. And when the technician offers the photo, Caleb takes it with both hands like it’s sacred.

He stares at it the entire drive home.

Not speaking. Not blinking.

Just holding it in his lap, his free hand gripping yours.

—

That night, when he’s tucked you into bed with two duvets, five pillows, and one “just-in-case” plush heating pad he bought you last week, he crawls in beside you and wraps himself around your back protectively.

“Sleep,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ve got you. I always have, pips.”

[thedensworld]

Thicker Than Blood | K. Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: Non-biological parents au!, angst

Summary: It was an impulsive decision to take the kid home, but who knows it will bloom the flower in your family

Warning: mention of child abuse, PTSD, abusive act.

You held your breath when you saw the bruises on her small body, a wave of unease settling heavily in your chest. Mingyu’s grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenching as he glared at the sight before him. "How dare him!" The thought burned hot in his mind. The doctor’s sharp gaze shifted between the two of you, eyes filled with suspicion.

“We need an explanation before we proceed with the examination, Mr. Kim,” the doctor said firmly, his tone unwavering. His eyes lingered on the bruises that marred the child’s delicate skin. It was a sight that would send any parent into a frenzy of worry, but the doctor's eyes held doubt.

The nurse moved swiftly, taking little Jia’s hand and guiding her toward the play corner. The child followed obediently, her curious gaze flicking back to the two of you. Her innocence made the sight of those bruises even more painful.

Mingyu exhaled slowly, adjusting his posture in the chair. His fingers tapped against his knee in slow, deliberate motions. “It’s a complicated story,” he admitted, his voice low but steady.

Mingyu had received news that his mother’s youngest brother had passed away. The man had always been a thorn in the family’s side — loud, reckless, and perpetually jobless. He drank from morning till night, draining not only his wallet but also the patience of everyone around him. Even after their grandmother’s passing, he remained a source of endless frustration, often bothering Mingyu's mother with his demands. So, when the news of his death arrived, Mingyu had felt an unexpected sense of relief.

But that relief didn’t last.

When you and Mingyu arrived at the funeral house, the air was thick with incense and murmured prayers. Relatives filled the room, most of them offering shallow condolences for a man none of them seemed to truly grieve. Mingyu hadn’t expected anything more — until whispers reached his ears.

“Did you see her? She’s so young. Poor thing.”

“Didn’t even know he had a kid.”

“Where’s the mother? How could she just leave her like this?”

His gaze followed theirs until it landed on a little girl standing off to the side. Her clothes were slightly wrinkled, her hair tied up in a loose, messy ponytail. She was clutching a stuffed rabbit that looked like it had seen better days. Her wide, observant eyes darted around the room like she was looking for something — or someone.

“Is the mother here?” Mingyu had asked, turning to one of the older relatives.

The older woman clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Ran off ages ago. No one's seen her since.”

She was raised by your uncle alone — or so they said. But knowing the kind of man your uncle was, Mingyu found it hard to believe. A man who spent his days drowning in alcohol, stumbling through life with no sense of responsibility, hardly seemed like someone capable of raising a child. Even the way he died — struck by a car while drunkenly crossing the road — spoke volumes about the reckless life he led.

So, when Mingyu first heard about the girl, doubt immediately took root in his mind. Did he really raise her? Or was she just another person he neglected? The questions lingered in his head, heavy and unsettling.

But then he saw her with his own eyes.

Her clothes were tattered and clung to her like old rags. Dirt smudged her cheeks and arms, leaving faint streaks across her skin. Her hair was long — far too long — wild and unkempt, hanging in tangled strands down her back. She didn't look up when people spoke to her. She didn't reach out for comfort. She just stood there, silent and still, like a forgotten doll abandoned in the corner of a crowded room.

Mingyu’s heart twisted at the sight. How long had she been living like this?

"She smells like cigarettes," you whispered to Mingyu as Jia was seated near you. The faint but distinct scent lingered in the air, sharp and unsettling. Mingyu's eyes flickered toward the girl, his brows knitting together. He noticed it too.

Was my uncle really raising her alone?

The thought echoed in his mind, each repetition hitting harder than the last. Did he smoke around her too? His jaw tightened, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The image of a little girl surrounded by secondhand smoke while her father drank himself numb was enough to make his stomach churn.

Meanwhile, the room buzzed with low murmurs as the family discussed who would take care of Jia now. The adults sat in a loose circle, voices laced with uncertainty and half-hearted sympathy. The phrases were all too familiar — "It’s not the right time for us." "We’ve got too much on our plate already." "Maybe she could stay with someone else." Even Mingyu’s own mother was subtly searching for reasons to excuse herself from the responsibility.

No one said it outright, but it was clear. No one wanted her.

Mingyu leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving Jia. She sat next to you, her small hands playing with the hem of her oversized shirt. You had crouched beside her, your voice soft as you tried to draw her into conversation. She didn’t speak, but she responded with small gestures — a nod, a glance, a hesitant tug on your sleeve. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She’s not ignoring you, Mingyu thought. She’s just scared.

On the drive home, the air in the car was quiet, except for the soft hum of the engine. You stared out the window, your eyes distant, lost in thought. Then, after a moment, you spoke.

“When my parents passed away, I had to take care of myself,” you said, your voice calm but heavy with meaning.

Mingyu glanced at you, his eyes shifting from the road to your face. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was listening. He always listened when it mattered.

"I have older siblings," you continued, "but they had their own families to think about. So, at the end of the day, it was just me." Your gaze remained on the window, watching the world blur past.

"I had to keep going. Finish school. Work part-time jobs. Take care of the house." Your voice grew quieter, almost like you were speaking to yourself now.

Mingyu’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He knew you were strong, but hearing it laid out like this made him realize just how much you’d carried on your own.

You turned to him then, offering a small, tired smile. "But I was 18," you said, your eyes soft but firm. Then you glanced forward, gaze hardening. "Jia is only 5." Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the weight of those words filled the car like a thunderclap.

Silence followed. It wasn’t awkward or tense — it was the kind of silence that made room for realization.

Mingyu’s eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror. For a moment, his gaze was distant, locked on something only he could see. Then, without warning, he turned the wheel sharply, pulling into a U-turn on the empty street.

“Wait, what are you—?” you started, gripping the seat as the car shifted direction.

But Mingyu didn’t answer. His focus was sharp, his jaw set with quiet determination. His silence said more than words ever could.

He drove back to the funeral house, his hands steady on the wheel, his heart moving faster than his mind could catch up. When he arrived, he barely turned off the engine before stepping out. You watched him jog toward the house, his long strides urgent but purposeful.

Moments later, he returned — and in his arms was Jia.

She clung to him like she’d always belonged there, her small hands gripping his jacket as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Her wild hair brushed against his neck, and for once, she looked less like a forgotten child and more like someone being held.

Mingyu opened the car door and sat her in the back seat, buckling her in with careful, deliberate movements. When he finally slid back into the driver’s seat, he glanced at you. His eyes were calm but certain, like he’d already made up his mind long before you’d even spoken.

“Let’s take care of her,” he said, his voice steady, as if it were the most natural decision in the world.

The examination results were difficult to hear, though not entirely unexpected. Jia was malnourished, significantly shorter and underweight for a child her age. Her verbal communication was delayed, and the doctor suggested it might be the result of prolonged trauma. His words hung in the air like a heavy weight neither you nor Mingyu could shake off.

“You should consider seeing a child behaviorist,” the doctor recommended, glancing between the two of you. “It would help to better understand her psychological condition and ensure she gets the support she needs.”

Mingyu nodded, his expression unreadable but his grip on your hand was firm. You felt his resolve in that silent squeeze.

On the drive home, Jia sat quietly in the back seat. Her head leaned against the window, her eyes following the blur of passing buildings, cars, and trees. She didn’t speak, didn’t hum, didn’t ask questions the way most five-year-olds did. The only sound was the gentle hum of the engine.

You stopped by a supermarket on the way home to pick up essentials — clothes, children’s toiletries, snacks, and other necessities. It felt surreal, walking down the aisles and filling the cart with items meant for a child you’d only just met. You exchanged glances with Mingyu every now and then, wordlessly checking if you were doing this right. His eyes held the same unspoken question.

The two of you had only gotten married earlier this year. Conversations about children had always been distant, hypothetical musings — “If we have kids someday, maybe they’ll have your eyes.” Or, “When we have kids, we’ll have to childproof everything.” Idle thoughts that didn’t demand any real action. But now, it wasn’t a thought or a dream. It was reality.

You were raising a child. A five-year-old. A child who wasn’t biologically yours.

The weight of it settled on your shoulders as you loaded the shopping bags into the trunk. Mingyu’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes soft with quiet reassurance. He didn't say anything, but he didn’t need to. His presence was enough.

At home, the air felt still but not uncomfortable. While you unpacked the shopping bags, Mingyu moved to the kitchen to prepare a small meal for Jia, just in case she hadn’t eaten that day. You glanced toward the living room where she sat on the couch, her tiny feet barely touching the edge, her hands resting on her lap. She was looking down at her fingers, fidgeting with them like she was trying to keep herself busy.

You were about to call her for dinner when her voice — small, soft, and fragile like a thread on the verge of snapping — broke the quiet.

“My dad is dead?”

The words hit you like a sudden gust of cold wind, sharp and unyielding. Your breath caught in your chest, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Mingyu froze too, turning his head from the stove to watch you. His gaze was alert but gentle, like he was ready to step in if you needed him to.

Slowly, you walked over to Jia, crouching down in front of her until you were at her eye level. Her eyes met yours, wide and searching for something you weren’t sure you could give her. The weight of her question settled in the space between you.

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice as steady as you could make it. “Your dad is gone.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she was trying to hold back tears.

“But…” you continued, tilting your head toward Mingyu, “that man right there?” You pointed at him, and her gaze followed your finger. “He’s your dad now.”

Mingyu glanced at you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. But then his expression softened, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. He turned off the stove and walked over, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before kneeling beside you.

“And me,” you said, tapping your chest with a gentle smile. “I’m your mom.”

Jia’s eyes flickered between the two of you, her fingers still fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Her lips parted just slightly as if to speak, but she hesitated. Then, after a long pause, she muttered, “Mom…” The word was so soft it was almost inaudible, but you heard it.

It was enough to make your chest ache.

You nodded, your eyes warm with quiet encouragement. You opened your arms slowly, offering her a hug, hoping she’d lean into it. “Come here, sweetheart,” you said softly.

But she didn’t move. She stayed still, her eyes watching you carefully, as if trying to figure out if it was safe. Her fingers kept twisting and untwisting the fabric of her shirt.

Your heart ached, but you nodded in understanding, lowering your arms slowly. “It’s okay,” you said with a gentle smile. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

Mingyu reached out and lightly patted her head, his touch gentle but firm, like he was reminding her she wasn’t alone. She glanced up at him, her gaze lingering just a little longer this time.

"Jia's going to be okay here," you said firmly, your voice filled with certainty. You didn’t say it just for her — you said it for yourself too. "With mom and dad, you’ll be safe. We promise."

Jia blinked slowly, her gaze still cautious but a little less distant. She didn’t say anything, but this time, when Mingyu ruffled her hair again, she didn’t flinch.

It was a start. And sometimes, a start was all you needed.

The first week was an emotional whirlwind. Both of you had to rearrange your entire lives. Remote work became the only option when you quickly realized that daycare wasn’t a suitable choice for Jia — not with everything she’d been through. It wasn’t just about leaving her in someone else’s care. It was about trust. And Jia had already learned, far too young, that adults couldn’t always be trusted.

The visit to the child behaviorist was the hardest part. Sitting in that small, sterile office, you listened as the specialist laid out the results with a calm but empathetic tone.

“For a five-year-old, Jia is showing clear signs of depression,” the behaviorist explained, their gaze shifting gently between you and Mingyu. “Her speech delay, difficulty making decisions, and avoidance of communication — these are all symptoms of the environment she grew up in.”

You sat in stunned silence, gripping Mingyu’s hand tightly. His thumb rubbed slow, steady circles against your palm, but you could feel the tension in his grip. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the floor, his breathing slow and deliberate — the only sign that he was trying to control the anger brewing inside him.

“Children her age should be exploring, talking, asking questions,” the behaviorist continued. “But it sounds like she spent most of her time in survival mode.”

That phrase stuck with you. Survival mode. For five years, Jia had lived like that. And now, at only five years old, she was already exhausted.

At home, the puzzle pieces started coming together. She flinched every time someone reached toward her too quickly. Her whole body would tense, her eyes darting toward the source of the movement like she was bracing for impact. It didn’t matter if it was you, Mingyu, or even a harmless gesture like placing a blanket over her shoulders. She always reacted the same way.

It broke you.

She hated cigarette boxes. The sight of them made her shrink into herself, her small frame folding inward like she was trying to disappear. She’d stare at them with wide, fearful eyes, refusing to move until they were out of sight. It didn’t take long to figure out why.

The soju bottles had a similar effect. Once, while you and Mingyu were clearing out the kitchen cabinets, a soju bottle slipped from the top shelf and clattered loudly on the counter. Jia had been in the living room playing with a puzzle, but at the sound of glass clinking, she froze. Her little hands stopped mid-movement, her face going pale as her eyes locked on the bottle.

Her breathing grew shallow. Her eyes darted to the front door like she was ready to bolt.

“Jia, it’s okay,” you said softly, stepping toward her slowly, hands raised so she could see them. "It’s just a bottle. No one’s going to hurt you."

But she didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

Mingyu moved faster than you. He was already at her side, kneeling down, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “Look at me, Jia,” he said gently, his deep voice unusually soft. His eyes stayed locked on hers, never once looking at the bottle. “That’s just a bottle, nothing else. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Her gaze flickered to him, her tiny chest rising and falling rapidly. Slowly, she shifted her focus from the bottle to his face. He smiled at her, a warm, reassuring smile that didn’t rush her to respond.

“See? No one’s mad. No one’s angry,” he continued, his voice like a steady heartbeat. "You're safe, okay? Safe."

It took time, but eventually, her breathing steadied. She looked at the bottle once more, then slowly looked away, her hands curling into fists on her lap.

Later that night, while you were tucking her into bed, Mingyu stood by the door with his arms crossed, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

“She’s terrified of cigarettes, terrified of soju, and she flinches every time she’s touched,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp as broken glass. His eyes stayed on Jia, his gaze softening only for her. But his next words were filled with quiet, seething rage. “That man won’t rest in peace for what he did to her.”

You glanced at him, your heart heavy with shared anger and grief. “She’ll need therapy,” you said softly, smoothing a hand over Jia’s blanket. She had already fallen asleep, her small face finally at ease after a long, difficult day. “We’ll do everything we can.”

Mingyu's eyes flicked toward you, his gaze steady but fierce. “Everything,” he echoed firmly, like a vow.

And from the way he looked at Jia, you knew he meant it.

*

Mingyu's mother visited after the first month, her arrival stirring a mix of nerves and anticipation. But as she sat in the living room, her eyes naturally found Jia, who was on the floor, carefully stacking her colorful blocks with the kind of quiet concentration only children could master.

There was a noticeable difference in her. Jia was no longer the withdrawn, fearful girl she had been when she first came into your home. She felt safer now — it showed in the way she moved freely around you and Mingyu, no longer flinching at sudden movements. Her small giggles echoed through the house like sunlight spilling through cracks, and every laugh she let out sent butterflies fluttering in your chest.

She was still shy, especially around adults, but she had started to show an interest in making friends her age. You saw it with your own eyes during her first day at daycare a week ago. She had stood quietly for a while, watching the other kids play, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. Then, with hesitant but determined steps, she approached a little girl nearby. You watched as she extended her small hand for a handshake. Her lips moved softly, and though you couldn’t hear her, you knew she was introducing herself. The sight had made your heart swell with pride, and you couldn't wait to tell Mingyu.

“She introduced herself,” you had shared with him later that night. “She actually walked up to another kid and said her name. Can you believe that?”

Mingyu had smiled so wide his eyes disappeared. “She’s brave,” he said, his voice filled with pride. "Our brave little girl."

But now, the air in the house felt different. Mingyu’s mother sipped her tea slowly, her gaze shifting between you, Mingyu, and the little girl quietly playing in the corner. She set her cup down, her eyes sharp but cautious.

“Are the two of you sure about legally adopting her?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed.

Mingyu, who had been stirring his tea with absent-minded patience, finally put his spoon down. He placed a cup of tea in front of his mother before sitting beside you on the couch, his posture straight but not stiff.

"Yes, mother," he said firmly. "We have to take action since no one else will." His tone was steady, each word deliberate.

"That’s a big decision," she said, her fingers lacing together on her lap. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tilted her head. "Have you really thought it through?"

Mingyu nodded. "We have. We talked about it, thought it over for weeks. We’ve even discussed finances, education, and everything else we might face in the future.” His hand slid beneath the table, finding yours. His fingers interlocked with yours, and each time he was about to speak, his grip would tighten. It was subtle but clear — he was asking you to let him handle it. This was his mother, after all, and he knew her best.

“But she’s not blood-related,” his mother said, her gaze flickering toward Jia for a brief moment before settling back on Mingyu. Her eyes grew colder, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “Her mother was a prostitute.”

Silence filled the room like heavy fog.

Mingyu let out a slow, controlled sigh, his jaw flexing for a brief second before he leaned forward, his eyes locked on his mother.

“Mom, that doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice sharp but calm. “She’s five. Five. Her mother’s choices have nothing to do with her.” His eyes narrowed, his voice firm but respectful. “And let’s not forget that your brother — your brother — didn’t take care of her either. He left her hungry, bruised, and scared for years. You think I should do the same?”

His mother blinked, visibly taken aback. Her fingers fidgeted on the table, tapping lightly against the wood. She glanced at Jia, who was still playing quietly, blissfully unaware of the conversation. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“We could send her to a foster home,” she muttered, her eyes fixed on the tea in front of her.

Mingyu let out a short, bitter laugh, tilting his head back as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the weight of her words settle in the room. Slowly, he picked up his tea and took a slow sip, his eyes watching his mother from over the rim of the cup.

He didn’t have to say anything for her to know what he was thinking. The silence said it all.

After a long pause, he set the cup down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were sharper now, his voice low but firm. “Mom, listen to me carefully,” he said, and for the first time, she looked directly at him. "Jia isn’t some responsibility we’re trying to avoid. She’s family. Family isn’t just blood — it’s the people who love you, protect you, and make sure you’re safe.” He glanced at you briefly before looking back at his mother. “That little girl has lived through things a child her age should never have to experience. So, no, we’re not sending her to a foster home. We’re her home now.”

You glanced at Mingyu, pride swelling in your chest. His hand still gripped yours tightly, anchoring the both of you.

“I know you’re worried for us,” you added, your voice softer than his but no less firm. "I know you’re thinking about how hard this will be, and you’re right. It’s going to be hard. But we’ve already spent a month with her, and you’ve seen it yourself. She’s growing, changing, and finally learning to feel safe.” Your gaze softened as you looked at his mother. “If things get difficult, we’ll ask for help. From you, from family, from friends. But we’re not giving up on her. Not now. Not ever.”

Mingyu's mother didn’t speak immediately. Her eyes flickered to Jia once more, watching as she carefully balanced a red block on top of a blue one, her tongue peeking out as she focused. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if the tower of blocks was the most important thing in the world.

"She’s a sweet girl,” his mother finally said, her voice softer now. Her eyes lingered on Jia for a moment longer before turning back to you and Mingyu. "But sweet doesn’t mean easy.”

Mingyu nodded, his gaze unwavering. "We know."

For a moment, no one said anything. His mother picked up her cup, taking another slow sip of tea. Her eyes remained thoughtful as she gazed down at the cup, her fingers no longer tapping nervously.

“You’ll call me if you need help?” she asked, her tone lighter this time, less sharp.

“Of course,” Mingyu said, his lips curving into a small smile. "But only if you're ready to see her as family too."

She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no real fight in her gaze this time. Instead, she sighed, setting the teacup back on the table with a quiet clink.

“Fine,” she muttered, folding her arms. “But if she calls me grandma one day, I’ll hold you responsible.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with a knowing grin. “Deal.”

You watched as his mother shook her head, hiding a small, reluctant smile behind her hand. Her gaze wandered to Jia one more time, her eyes just a little softer than before.

The day the adoption papers were approved felt surreal, like a weight you didn’t realize you’d been carrying had finally lifted. It was official now — Jia was no longer just the little girl you were caring for. She was Kim Jia, legally and irrevocably your daughter. You and Mingyu were her parents in every sense of the word.

The moment you received the confirmation call, Mingyu pulled you into a tight hug, his grin so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes. "She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and pride. "Officially, legally, and forever ours."

That night, you celebrated quietly with a small cake at home. Jia sat between you and Mingyu at the kitchen table, her wide eyes focused on the flickering candle. You guided her small hands to clasp them together, showing her how to make a wish.

"Close your eyes and think of something you really want," you said softly, watching her from the side. She squeezed her eyes shut, her brows furrowed in concentration. After a few seconds, she looked up at you with a small nod, ready to blow out the candle. Her breath was small but determined, the tiny flame vanishing with a single huff.

“What did you wish for, sweetie?” Mingyu asked, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes warm and curious.

Jia glanced at him, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Secret,” she muttered with a small, mischievous smile.

You and Mingyu exchanged a glance before bursting into soft laughter. It was moments like these that reminded you just how far she’d come.

Since starting regular speech therapy sessions, Jia's speech had blossomed. Her words were still short and simple, but they were hers — words she chose for herself, not ones prompted or forced from her.

Her quiet voice had become your favorite sound in the world. She wasn't as talkative or curious as other five-year-olds, but she didn’t have to be. Each word she spoke felt like a little victory.

“Jia, do you want pancakes or eggs for breakfast?” you’d ask in the mornings.

“Eggs,” she’d say, her tiny voice as soft as a breeze.

“Scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled,” she’d reply, her eyes peeking at you shyly before focusing on her plate.

Every time she spoke, you and Mingyu shared a glance, silently celebrating her growth. It wasn’t just her voice that had changed. She was learning to make choices, to have preferences, and to express them out loud. It was something that once seemed so far away, but here she was, making it feel so natural.

But not all questions were as simple as what to have for breakfast.

One evening, as you were folding laundry in the living room, Jia sat on the carpet nearby, brushing her doll’s hair with careful strokes. Her eyes stayed on the doll’s face as she spoke, her voice quieter than usual but clear enough for you to hear.

“Why are you and Daddy my parents?” she asked, not looking up from her doll. Her small fingers smoothed the doll’s tangled strands with slow, gentle patience.

The question stopped you mid-fold, the shirt in your hands suddenly feeling heavier than it should. You glanced at Mingyu, who was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. He froze too, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

He set his phone aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. You could see him thinking, carefully picking his words before he spoke.

“Because you needed us,” he said softly, his voice gentle but firm. “And we needed you.”

Jia’s hands paused on the doll’s hair. She glanced up at him, her eyes round and thoughtful. "Needed me?" she repeated slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue.

Mingyu smiled, nodding. "Yup. We didn’t know it at first, but the moment we met you, we realized it." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes steady and sincere as he gazed at her. “Families aren’t just about who you’re born to. Sometimes, families are made by love, not blood.”

You sat down on the carpet beside Jia, placing a hand on her back, rubbing slow circles. “We chose you, Jia,” you said softly. “We saw you, and we decided we wanted to be your parents. And we’re really, really happy we did.”

Her little brows scrunched together, her lips pursed as if she were processing everything at once. Her eyes moved from you to Mingyu, then back to her doll. She resumed brushing its hair, her strokes slower than before.

"Other kids have one mommy, one daddy," she muttered. "I had no mommy... then two?"

Her words hit like a punch straight to your heart. You glanced at Mingyu, and he was already looking at you, his eyes filled with that quiet understanding only the two of you shared.

“That’s true,” you replied, keeping your voice soft but steady. “Some kids have one mom and one dad. Some have two moms. Some have two dads. And some kids, like you, have a mommy and daddy who chose them.” You reached for her hand, gently holding it in yours. “It’s not about how many you start with, sweetie. It’s about how many people love you.”

Her fingers curled around yours, tiny but warm. She didn't look up, still focused on the doll in her lap. Her grip on your hand was firm, though, like she understood something deeper than what her five-year-old mind could fully put into words.

“Did you choose Daddy too?” she asked suddenly, peeking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

This time, it was Mingyu who choked on a laugh. “She did,” he answered before you could. “She picked me, and I got lucky.” He reached over to ruffle her hair, and for once, she didn’t flinch. She giggled, pushing his hand away with an exaggerated pout.

“No, no,” she said, her cheeks puffed out in mock annoyance. But her smile betrayed her.

"Yup," you said, grinning as you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I picked him because I knew he’d be a good dad one day.”

Jia tilted her head up at him, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Is Daddy good?” she asked, her lips curling into a tiny, mischievous smile.

“The best,” you whispered loud enough for Mingyu to hear, giving him a teasing glance.

“Darn right, I am,” he said with a dramatic huff, crossing his arms. “Don’t forget it, little one.”

Her giggle burst out like a bell, bright and clear, and just like that, the air felt lighter again. Moments like this — these little, precious, fleeting moments — reminded you why everything had been worth it.

Later that night, as you tucked Jia into bed, she stared at the ceiling, her eyes far away in thought. You leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, Jia," you whispered, pulling her blanket up to her shoulders.

Her eyes shifted to you, and just as you were about to stand, she reached out, gripping the sleeve of your shirt.

"Mommy," she said, her voice so soft it could have been a breath.

"Yes, baby?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours. Then she whispered, “Thank you for choosing me.”

Your heart squeezed so tightly you thought it might stop. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. Instead, you cupped her cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing against her soft skin.

“Thank you for letting us,” you replied, your voice shaking just a little.

She nodded, her eyes slowly fluttering closed as she relaxed into the pillow. You stayed for a while, watching her breathe, letting the quiet peace of the room settle around you.

When you finally stepped out of her room, Mingyu was waiting in the hallway, his arms folded as he leaned against the wall. He tilted his head toward you, raising a brow.

“She call you ‘Mommy’ just now?” he asked, his voice quiet with awe.

You nodded, wiping at the corner of your eye. “Yeah. She did.”

Mingyu let out a breathy laugh, covering his face with his hands. “Man,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I think that just broke me.”

You stepped into his arms, letting him pull you into a hug. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you a little tighter than usual.

"Kim Jia," he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with warmth and certainty. "Our little girl."

[yan-randomfandom]

Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

[theamberparadise]

ik u dont take requests but PLEASSEE more ben

BEN DROWNED THIRSTS

part 2! includes three NSFW mini fics/drabbles. read at your own risk.

TWs; f00d pl4y, g4gging, ch0k1ng, hair pulling, b00t w0rsh1p, use of b1tch, sl*t, etc., t3nt4cl3 h3nt41, ben sending p0rn of you to his friends, blood, mentions of murder, d3gr4d4t10n

A/N; this isnt my fault its yours you asked for this deal with the consequences this is not my burden this is yours get away get away get away

Giving BEN a sloppy titjob after he gives you five hundred dollars for your next tattoo.

It's all a transactional favor. Something that doesn't involve too much fuss-- only a tit for a tat.

Literally. A tit. For a tat.

See, you had just surfed the entire internet for a good tramp stamp to add to your collection. It was cute! A simple heart with a bit of cybersigilism winging the shape.

You were about to trudge out the door and into a nice tattoo shop in the city, before realizing that you only had three hundred dollars left in your wallet. The artist you had consulted told you it would be six hundred for the complex design.

You scoffed. How can your design be "complex"?

Anyhow, you found yourself talking to the one person with guaranteed money outside his dorm. And to your surprise-- BEN offered five hundred dollars instead of three.

"Here's the catch, girlie," his eyebrow arched up cheekily. "See, I want a little favor. Could you do that for me?"

His stupid little smirk had you fuming. But, you really wanted this tattoo! Besides, how big of a favor can this really be?

That favor ended up with you, on your knees, with your mascara dripping down like a cursed waterfall, bobbing your head up and down BEN's twitching tip.

Meanwhile, your tits were bouncing up and down from the middle of his dick to the base, your nipples occasionally being nestled in thin blond pubes.

He was on his gaming chair, like always, one hand on the mouse and the other guiding your head.

"You don't think your poor little tattoo appointment would mind if you were a tad bit late would they?" his voice was barely drowning out the lewd moans coming from whatever ridiculous hentai porn he was watching. Your hands were pushing the sides of your tits against his cock, kneading his veins through the mounds of flesh.

Unholy sounds of your constant gags and choking filled the room alongside the filthy underground animated porn he had on this computer.

And it doesn't help when his room reeks of smoked marijuana and... lube?

You could only respond with a desperate hum while he pushed you deeper, his oddly pearly white teeth flashing at you.

"Yeah, they wouldn't," he muttered like he were praising a dog-- which you were sure you were acting like one right now-- given by how much slobber you had coated his cock in.

He inches his foot a little more forward, raising his boot up so the hard rubber at the very edge of the shoe wedges inside your sobbing cunt, a part of your clit throbbing at the leather.

You can feel your hips grind a lot more faster, gaining more motion for your head to bob up and down his cock deeper and faster than before.

You moan around his dick like a whore, your pretty eyes rolling back just for a moment before returning to the dazed expression you had ever since you landed a lick under his shaft.

"Feel good, pixie?" you could only slightly nod at him. "Yeah?" he chided, rutting his hips up and down inside your mouth, earning a loud gag.

"Fuck, that's hot. Give me more, that's it, little bitch," you feel so much more of your honey drip down his boot, part of the shoelaces were tribbing at your clit.

With a swift motion, BEN threw his head back slightly before landing a spot of his spit on your tits.

Only a partial view of his face was visible to you, your sight blocked by the under of his table.

You could only flinch before he brought his other hand down to massage his spit deeper into your skin, dragging the sticky slick to your nipples, circling the hardened nub.

As a silent protest, you bring your head up just enough to suck him as hard as you can, your cheeks vacuuming against his oh-so-pretty dick. Your tongue swirls so deliciously against his cute tip, and you dont move an inch-- disgustingly filthy sounds of your lips dragging up ever so slowly with traction only got you wetter than you already are.

"All this just for five hundred dollars, babe?" he chuckles. "That's just a pound of cocaine," he goes back to forcefully bobbing your head, multiple gasps and choking muffled by his cock. BEN throws his head back, his eyes rolling momentarily before suddenly landing another glob of his spit on you once again, his boot shooting up your cunt-- almost like he was threatening to shove it in.

Your hand travelled down to your neglected clit, circling the poor nub while you bob your head faster, feeling the red top of his shaft twitching inside your mouth, your tits still massaging the lower half.

Being as mischievous as he is, you can't help but to sway your breasts, a smirk crawling up your full mouth while you feel his dick twitch and prop up even more.

BEN shivered. A flicker of his code flashing in the silhouette of him before he looks back down at you again.

"Fuck yeah, bitch, just like that--" he moaned, so pretty, like he was born to be in a high quality porno.

His boot riled up just a little more, giving you leverage to deepthroat his cock while your tits get sweatier and sweatier, acting like lube.

Soon, yours and his body was shaking, aching for release.

The knot in both of your stomachs formed like tension from hell, and soon, a bittersweet grainy liquid hit the back of your throat, causing your head to instinctively pull your head back.

But BEN didn't let you.

Instead, he pushed you down further, forcing the rest of his cock down your abused throat, his free hand harshly pushing one of your tits further against the side of what's left of his dick.

You were sobbing.

Eventually, you felt your own knot untie itself, and filthy squirt came flushing out of your system, drenching the leather boot and the rug below you.

"Good bitch, good little bitch," he panted, letting your head go. He bit his lip at the sight of you.

Hair disheveled, makeup ruined, cheeks flushed.

"That's my lovely little pixie-slut, right there."

A faint sting brands your lower back, the newly tattooed tramp stamp you wanted was imprinted for anyone at all to see.

Your phone was in your hand, and on the screen, is a recent conversation you had just finished texting.

On the contact name, read BEN. Beneath it, a series of pictures.

The first two of which you sent, was one picture of your cute little tramp stamp, and the other...

A clearer, more carefully taken picture of the side of your thigh. In cursive letters printed on by fresh ink, spelled a B, then an E, then an N.

A chime from your phone interrupts your zone-out. You click on the pending picture:

An embarrassingly detailed photo of you-- on your knees, spit-covered tits out, cunt exposed with your panties in the background, and a couple of hundred-dollar bills showered on you.

"Hey, nice tattoo," Clockwork chirped, patting the back of the couch as she passed by.

"Thanks... worked hard for it."

BEN feels offended when his friends try to hit you up on your phone, attempting at sexting you behind your boyfriend's back. You tell him that it's no problem and that you would block them immediately-- but he has other plans. He pushes you into his favorite tentacle hentai porn, planning on keeping you there until you wished it was him fucking you.

You tried to reason with him, you really did!

So you don't understand why it was you he took his jealousy out on.

You were face-first on the mattress, arms too tired to prop yourself up as BEN plowed into you, his surprisingly strong arms pulling your hips towards his.

Your sweet spot was surely bruised at the shameful pace he was going, you don't even get time to breathe before he thrusts again. Your hair-- everything was a mess.

His phone was attached to one of his selfie sticks, adjusted just right so the camera can see most of your body with your cunt being the main focal point.

"Ben-- Benny, baby, please--" your babbling was cut short by a harsh slap on the ass. "Shut the fuck up and take it," he hissed. "You fucking wanted this." His pace was even faster-- harder now.

"If you didn't then you would have blocked them at the very first second they send you a message." he growled. You've never seen him this terrifying-- BEN was always laid back, charming. But now, you had to choose your own words wisely, as it determines his own twisted little punishment for you.

"B-but," you babbled. "I thought-- ngh! I thought it was about-- Ben! Business... I never t-thought-- ah! that this was their intention all along-- please!"

"Business?" he sneered "Business? That? Business?" he slapped you once again, with more anger than the one before. "Jeff, Toby, EJ... Were they business?" you sob and whine, shaking your pretty little head.

The screen of his phone was facing you, showcasing your trembling figure under BEN's, the reflection mocking you like a clown.

"I-- I thought they had good inte-intentions! Ben, please, baby please, slow down, just a bit please--"

"Good intentions? They're fucking murderers for fuck's sake!" you sob into the sheets, makeup smearing the soft cotton. "Why in the ever living fuck would you assume they have good intentions?" he snarls.

"W-well..." you take a sharp inhale before choking out, "Jeff compliments me sometimes, ungh-- and Toby- he gives me the good coffee pods and-- Ben! Jack watches my back every mission--" with the little strength you have left, you try to rise up on your elbows. "They're n-not so bad when you think ab-about i--"

"That's fucking it," suddenly, BEN dragged you by the hair and hauled you in front of his TV, before snapping his fingers to cast an unfamiliar scene you have never watched before. He props your weak body up before pushing you inside the screen, watching as you gasp at the contact of animated tentacles wrapping around your body like vice.

You scream for his name-- pleading and begging for him to drag you out. But through the transparent window, only him setting up the selfie stick with his phone still attached and recording is what you see.

You couldn't help but cry a little harder when you see him jerking his beautiful leaking cock right in front of you, watching you get ruined by something that isn't him.

The tendrils were slimy, slimy, slimy. Every squelch made you grimace and squirm, shivering at every contact of slick from the creature.

The animated monster behind you wasted no time, exploring every crevice of your body despite your cries, and soon enough, you were being bred by the sinfully-delicious tentacles until you pumped full of nothing but cum.

"B-beeen," you mewled. "Wan'... Wan' yer cock..." your face was side first onto the ground. "Pleash.. I'll be.. I'll be a goo' gurhl... mnnn..."

BEN could only snicker in unfair victory before he cooed, "Y'ready to come out, baby? Ready to take my cock again?"

He felt his heart warm and his cock throb painfully at the sight of you nodding tiredly, spent and desperate for him. And him only.

The smell of soft sex filled the room as BEN scrolled through his feed when a number of notifs flooded his phone. He smiled, his heart thumping against your pretty little head, his arm wrapping itself tighter around your sleeping body.

He knew what this was about.

With a press of his thumb, a display of a video he sent three hours ago-- with footage of you being ruined by him in the bed and by the creature in his TV appeared, as well as an array of angry messages in a single Discord channel.

2:21 AM

j3ff_tequila06: well fuck you too elf

toebytobb34: Are you serious?

JackNyras_: You could have just told us to back off, you know.

Having filthy, dirty shameless sex with BEN in a run down 7-eleven after murdering the poor cashier. He has your dirt-caked body bent over the greasy, oil smeared counter, licking candy and energy drinks off of your skin. And if you think the scene wouldn't get any more shameful, he gains control of the CCTV monitors and points all the cameras on you.

"Oh, fuck, Ben!" you cried out. Your mind felt like it was melting in the best way.

Your body was on the counter, bare tits pressed with your nipples hardening against the cold steel. Your head was pulled back harshly, every follicle giving you an addicting tingle every time BEN's angry tip bruised your sweet spot buried within your womb.

Every thrust felt like heaven. And the addition of the artificial sticky sugar that he poured onto your skin being licked off by the pads of his tongue felt like the feathers of angels cradling you like a saint.

And by the way BEN was talking to you? You might as well think you're a disgrace to the world.

"Look how slutty you you fucking look," BEN wedges your chin between his hand, an aching pain pulsing through your jaw has he forcefully props it up with his free hand. Your face was now on full display to the CCTV camera overlooking the counter.

The monitors behind the bar of wood was surrounded by cameras for the (now dead) cashier to see, who, was unfortunately, now brutally murdered on the floor.

You whined at the sight of your pretty little fucked up face being seen clearly inside the scratchy monitor screens that enveloped you and BEN's figures. He hooks four of his fingers inside the lower half of your mouth while his other hand still pulls on your hair.

You gag at his digits, eyeliner and gloss long gone while you spewed out muffled wanton cries.

You feel BEN press the side of his face next to yours, a sharpness from his canines almost piercing your wet cheeks.

"So fuckin' pretty, beautiful girl," he teases. "Y'like bein' exposed like this? Bein' treated like a fuckin' pretty little snack?" he chuckles in those awful stingy glitches. You nod, sobbing frantically.

He lets his fingers out of your jaw, reaching to the side and flicking open a bottle of chocolate syrup you guys clearly didn't pay for, but the thought merely passed by your head for just a moment when the sticky liquid drizzles over your sore ass-- abused and aching from the constant spanking from a punishment you didn't deserve but begged so desperately for.

You moaned when you felt the warm fluid spray side to side, covering your hips as if he didn't smear your tits with whipped cream just before this.

His pace was relentless. You feel his hand coat the rest of your ass with the chocolate before giving it another spank, earning a gasp and a poor, broken cry from you.

"P-pleas-e!" you didn't even know what you were begging for.

BEN could not be any more smug as he drew a heart in the sweet syrup before leaning in once again. "Please what, pretty girl? Come on, you can speak, I know you can." he slumps down and tongued the curve of your cute ass, collecting the sugar on his tongue before humming in approval.

The angry snapping of his hip was stopped so suddenly it earned him a loud whine from you, babbling something about keep on going and a bunch of please Ben, please baby please.

His eyes can only darken even more before sending a bundle of wires your way, wrapping themselves around your ankles and wrists, with a thick and heavy wire lifting you up, flipping you to face him, and setting you down on the counter. The sight of the cashier's blood was spilling beyond the counter, making a disturbing puddle of death.

Squealing, your ass met the warm steel of the counter with a soft thump, grimacing at the feeling of sitting on Hershey brand syrup, before being met by BEN's soft lips.

You moaned into the kiss, closing your eyes as your tongue swirled deliciously with his. He chuckles darkly into the kiss, feeling your desperation of cumming that he denied for three hours or so.

You were harshly pulled away by the same wires that flipped you that were now rounding themselves up on your wrists, holding your body up off the counter by just an inch. You squirmed and struggled against them, only to be met by BEN's fingertips rubbing at your clit to ease you.

"Shh, don't fight it, mama." he cooed. "I've got so much more planned for you..." he entered his two fingers, smirking while he leaned in close.

"Can't wait to see you fall apart for me," with his free hand, BEN reaches below you, snagging a new can of whipped cream before he pops the top open. "Make you my good little slut." with a press of his index finger, he aimed the nozzle right at your hole, his fingers leaving momentarily to give way for the light puffs of sweet.

"Ben," you whined. The feeling of the creamy cloud filling up at the entrance of your abused hole, squirming around while lines of whipped cream framed your puffy lips.

With a swift motion, BEN used his two fingers to shove the cold cream inside, reveling in your sweet gasps and tiny-fucked out moans before he lines his tip up at your now-filled up entrance.

Without warning, he rams his pretty cock inside your hole, with your slick and the whipped cream acting as lube, his perfectly lands on your G-spot.

You shrieked.

Your body jolts up like a newly-revved up engine ready to work, shaking-- no, trembling while the piping hot coil in your stomach finally released.

BEN threw his head back with eyes closed, groaning the tight flesh his cock was so kindly blessed with, sending loads of his warm cum inside you.

Breathing heavy, he pulled out, watching the cream and milky white cum mix together like sin, before dipping his two fingers inside, swiping both the sickly-sweet cream and his cum.

He brings his fingers up to your trembling mouth. BEN smiled at the sight of your tongue lolling out, ready to recieve his gift. Your eyes were his favorite part, all fucked-out and hazy like clouds of sex.

BEN rubs his white fingers up and down your open tongue, moaning in sync with you while you kitten-licked his fingers clean, humming softly at the taste.

A silence surrounds the both of you while he let your arms down, those of which were flailing around his neck and embracing him.

"Y'know what?" he mutters, caressing your back while massaging your spine with his fingertips. "You'd look sexy as a waffle."

The comment brings a giggle from your lips. "Really?" he nods. "What would you top me with?" BEN freezes for a moment, before his smirk returns to his mouth.

"Whipped cream, obviously..." his eyes traveled down further. "And maybe... a bit of raspberries," he shot down and started blowing on the side of your belly, making you yelp and trying to push his head off.

-----

[thanksbutno98]

Jail

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price ends up in jail after protecting a loved one.

Warnings: Sexual themes, violence, blood, fighting, not edited.

——————

“Date night, date night, date night.” You chanted over and over.

John was chuckling and following you close behind while puffing on a cigar. The way your ass moved in that little black dress made John very thankful for date night. You were two glasses of wine in and John knew another drink would mean he was getting lucky tonight, if he wasn’t already.

You wore a black fitted velvet dress that came to mid thigh. It was long sleeved and had a square neckline. You paired it with silver jewelry and your black red bottom heels. You knew your ass and tits looked amazing in this dress by the way John kept groping you every chance he had. Your hair was loosely pulled back and framed your face elegantly while you did natural makeup.

John dressed much simpler in his black slacks and white button down. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and top two buttons undone. John had on his silver watch and shiny black loafers. You thought he looked so handsome with his beared neatly trimmed and his fresh haircut. And he smelled nicer than he looked with his oaky cologne and beard oil.

Life had slowed down with your children out of the house besides your youngest daughter. Jj had just gotten home from his latest deployment while Evelyn was in medical school. Lily was just finishing up school and was accepted into a culinary program. John consistently made sweet comments that you were able to hold on to your figure when you had a daughter who baked so much. He on the other hand was combatting weight gain and breaking even some days due to Lily’s exquisite desserts. John wasn’t losing by much and held on to his muscular frame but had developed a softer stomach instead of his toned abs that were now hidden beneath the thin layer of fat.

Tonight you two decided since your youngest, Lily, was old enough to be home alone you’d go out. That meant dinner and drinks. Dinner was fantastic and John didn’t even look at the bill because you two definitely spent more than you should have. Now, you two were on your way to some swanky pub for drinks down the street.

Opening the door for you, you gave John a kiss while he grabbed a handful of your ass. After flicking his cigar to the ground he walked into the pub that seemed to be for a much younger demographic. There were some people your age who were enjoying themselves. The bar was upscale and had to be way too expensive for university students.

Walking in, the bar was located on the right side and stretched for about half way of the long room. The stool cushions were beige leather while the legs were a red wood that matched the shiny bar. The glass cabinets behind the bar were stocked with expensive alcohol with fairy lights twinkling behind them. To the left were half moon booths that stretched the same length of the room that the bar did. The upholstery matched the bar stools and the round tables were shiny red wood. In the back were more round tables with chairs filled with nicely dressed university students.

“How do kids this young afford a place like this.” You whispered to John as he lead you to the bar, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Mummy and daddy have fat wallets.” John joked sarcastically, then laid a kiss to your temple.

You knew John’s distain for spoiled rich kids. It truly rubbed him the wrong way to deal with anyone who had all their accomplishments handed to them. Before you could respond a familiar voice interrupted you two.

“Aren’t you two a little old to be out this late?” Your eldest daughter Evelyn smiled mischievously at you and John.

John’s entire demeanor changed seeing his eldest daughter. He went from the suave flirt he was when alone with you and shifted right back into being a father.

“Guess we’re the ones with fat wallets.” You joked, which had John chuckling.

Evelyn looked so much like you but as she grew into a young woman started to look like no one else but herself. She had her long brown hair pulled back into a white hair clip that allowed her full bangs to frame her face. As usual she wore a rosy Smokey eye with winged eyeliner and a soft pastel pink lipstick. She was dressed in black tights and a grey skirt that came just above mid thigh. Her faded green jumper was loose and showed off her white turtleneck underneath. It was paired nicely with the gold jewelry set she had been gifted by you and John when she started medical school. Your dad, Evelyn’s grandfather, liked to tell you both that you had that girl nextdoor kind of beauty that your mother had.

“Mum, you look right fit in that. Can I borrow it sometime?” Evelyn admired your dress and was gaping like a trout at how good you looked.

She was accustom to seeing you barefoot, in leggings and t-shirts with your hair tied back and a broom in one hand. You took keeping the house clean seriously and the hard work that went into that left you wanting to be comfortable in how you dressed. Evelyn admired that about you because she struggled to keep her one room flat clean and she didn’t know how you managed the entire house with only the help of her father and Lily. You use to get the whole family to help clean and it only took a couple of hours. Now with two men down it had to take a full day.

“You think?” You looked down at the outfit you were once self conscious about and blushed at the compliment.

“Yeah! God, hope I age like you. Bet no one here would guess you’re my mum, more like sister. A Jennifer Aniston, Ava Mendes, Halle Berry, Michelle Yeoh, kind of aging-so jealous!” Evelyn continued, making you giggle lightly at all the compliments. You knew she meant it too because she wasn’t usually a kiss ass to you.

“Oh stop it-“ Evelyn cut in before you could swat her compliments away.

“Sandra Bullock! She’s also aging phenomenally.” The fact Evelyn was now going on about celebrities she thought were aging beautifully was having you cackling laughing.

“Jamie Lee Curtis.” You added.

“Viola Davis!” She half shouted.

“Salma Hayek.” John said while wagging his eyebrows and appreciated the approving nods he received from you and Evelyn.

Evelyn and you continued to name beautiful actresses that you thought were aging like fine wine. It wasn’t lost on you that the actresses John named were some of the sexiest women alive. That was until your daughter brought her attention to John and gave him a judgmental look. You thought she was about to tear him down because of the actresses he was choosing to name. She could be protective when her father was being insensitive.

“And then there’s you, dad. Dressed like a store mannequin. . . Lucky man, with mum being so hot. If you two were single you’d never be able to score her now. Still don’t know how you did in the first place.” She continued and gave John’s outfit a once over and seemed to be unimpressed.

“How about you play nice and I’ll pay for you and your friend’s drinks.” John gave her a hug that she returned.

“No, they’re all a bunch of rich pricks. Just pay for mine and Archie’s.” With a big cheesy smile Evelyn moved to hug you while John nodded with a chuckle and flagged down the bartender.

“I’ll have a pear martini-“ You paused and looked to John.

“Whiskey, neat. Keep it open and put whatever she gets on my tab.” John nodded toward Evelyn and handed over his credit card. He then scanned the room until he saw Archie chatting with a group of friends.

Archie had grown into a handsome young man. No longer that scrawny little boy, Archie stood a little taller than John. Archie left behind the dorky attitude and haircut. It was swapped for a smart looking cropped cut and quiet confidence. He had also made it a habit to hit the gym so he was no longer all limbs but now had an athletic build to him. The two things that never changed were his freckles and thick rimmed rectangular glasses he’d always worn. The lenses were so thick it made it obvious he was blind as a bat without them.

“And him.” John pointed to the unsuspecting young man that remained his daughter’s best friend after all these years.

“He’s paying for some girls-“

“I’ll take care of it.” With that the bartender went on his way to make your drinks.

John had no reservation paying for Archie’s drinks and whichever young lady he was attempting to court. John saw Archie like a son and often gave him the fatherly advice Archie craved. It truly felt at times that you had four children instead of three. This had helped you and John make peace with never having a fourth child like you wanted. Because Archie was enough and fit in with you all seamlessly.

“So how’s studying.” You asked Evelyn who was happy to ignore her friends to chat with you.

Evelyn could become so immersed in her life that she would forget to check in or stop by. She was a person who gave herself to whatever life she was living. When at home, school seemed to be a distant thought and when at school or with friends, it was easy for her to forget about family.

“I would be studying now, if Archie hadn’t dragged me out to have fun.” With a shrug Evelyn took a sip of her mysterious dark drink.

The ice clinked against the glass as she brought it to her lips and took the smallest sip. After a moment you realized it was a dark and stormy and smiled how her alcoholic preferences had improved. She use to drink sweet wines that would leave most feeling sick the next day.

“Drinking that slow, I assume you want to study when you get back?” You asked which had her nodding as if she’d been caught doing something naughty.

It made you think back to when she was little and would give you that same charmingly sweet look. You were the same way at this age, putting your studies above all else; including fun. It made you happy you met John after you were established in your career or you might not have given him the time of day.

“Don’t tell Archie. He’s been on my case about ‘enjoying my twenties.’” Evelyn mocked Archie’s voice and used air quotes.

“You’ve turned out just like your mum.” John chuckled.

“Good, means I’m smart. Now I just have to figure out where I’ll be doing my special training. Archie’s already figured that out so I need to catch up.” Evelyn sighed heavily.

She never liked when someone else had things figured out before her. It was seen as the beginning stages of failure which she refused to ever let happen. Failing was not an option and much like John, Evelyn would fight tooth and nail for the things she wanted. You on the other hand made everything look easy and Evelyn was convinced you never once struggled academically.

“Could I buy you a drink?” A young man a few years older than your daughter approached the group.

He was tall, dark, and handsome. Dressed in dark blue jeans, a burnt orange sweater with a collard shirt underneath. You looked at Evelyn to see how she was about to handle being hit on. Wagging your eyebrows at her to signal the boy was cute. John on the other hand was unamused.

“I’m not interested, but-“

“Oh sorry, love. I was talking to-“ The man motioned to you.

Evelyn scoffed while you laughed audibly in this strangers face and then clamped your hand over your mouth for being so rude. Your reaction looked as if you shoved him with how he physically leaned away. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get hit on by men your own age when out like this but someone close to your son’s age was rare.

“Piss off.” John started to deeply chuckle until he was full on laughing at this man who couldn’t be any older than Jj.

“Sorry-“

“Oh my god! Don’t hit on my mum!” Evelyn loudly exclaimed making people around look over at you.

The man quickly ducked his head and walked away clearly embarrassed. Evelyn was now laughing because she had only done that to embarrass the man.

“That was-“ you spaced out for a second at how utterly ridiculous you found that. It was flattering but still, you would prefer things like that to not happen.

“Look who’s still got it! You’re a lucky man dad.” Evelyn hyped you up.

The three of you carried on and chatted about Evelyn’s studies and when she would come home next. Finding out Jj was coming home tomorrow was enough for Evelyn to agree to come back with you and John after this drink. Then you would take her to her flat and she’d pack a bag and stay the night.

“What are you drinking?” Another stranger came up but this time it was clear he was approaching Evelyn.

He was closer to John’s age which threw you off and immediately had John on guard. The middle aged man was slightly shorter than your husband. He had shaggy black hair that was greying and stubble across his chiseled face. You thought he almost looked like John Snow with how good looking he was.

“I’m not interested. Thanks though.” Evelyn barely looked his way and continued to talk to you about Lily.

“Oh c’mon it’s one drink.” The stranger insisted.

You felt John stiffen beside you at the pushy nature of what he saw as an average looking man. The gentle hold John had on your hip slipped away and bawled into a fist now resting on the bar. It was infuriating enough for John to witness you be approached by a pushy man but when it was his daughter; John became irate.

“Nope, thanks.” Evelyn waved him off.

“Oi, another of what she’s having, on me.” The man called to the bartender.

He waved his hand around Evelyn’s drink, you were focused on her eye roll while John was staring daggers at the man. John tried to step forward but you stoped him by tugging on his belt loop and pushing him back with one hand on his chest. With a sweet smile and big doe eyes that John loved you tried to distract him. Your effort was futile as John would never stand around while anyone made his daughter uncomfortable.

“I said-“ Evelyn was about to confront the man when she felt the hulking presence of her father. It was as if a looming shadow was cast over her and this stranger, causing them both to shrink under it.

“Leave her be. Or I’ll shove that drink, glass and all, so far up your ass you’ll taste it.” John practically growled.

Throwing his hands up in defeat and giving John an annoyed scoff the man stopped. John’s presence was enough to scare off most men and you were thankful it didn’t need to go past John threatening the man. But the man continued to cast dirty looks Evelyn’s way, like she had spat in his face when rejecting him.

“Just waiting for the drink I ordered. Stupid bitch.” He mumbled the last part.

You grabbed John before he could start throwing punches. It was hushed but you were begging him to stop and let it go. That those were just words and nothing truly happened. Evelyn was waving her hand at her father to calm down, annoyed he couldn’t control his temper. It was her biggest gripe with him and she had been complaining about it since she was a child.

“Hope it chokes you.” Evelyn spoke in a sugary sweet way that flustered the man. His nostrils flared and he couldn’t find a good enough retort.

Evelyn’s response calmed John down somewhat along with your quiet pleas for him to not loose his temper. That Evelyn was grown enough to handle herself and she didn’t need John to intervene. John listened to you and felt proud at his daughter’s smart mouth being used toward anyone but you and him. The man stalked off to his friends and went about his evening.

Finally your drinks arrived and Evelyn turned her back to the guy. You and her shared a wide eyed look at John’s reaction. He was radiating aggression that was suffocating. Trying to calm him down, you rubbed his toned back and whispered about how good looking he was. You told him how nice it was going to be to have a full house tomorrow. Everything would be fine and you’d laugh about this in an hour.

“Gross.” Evelyn muttered to you and you both broke out in giggles like school girls.

Evelyn went to take another sip of her drink but stopped when John’s hand was quickly placed over top of it. Turning to look at him John had his gaze set off to the side at the crowd of people.

“What?” Evelyn said defensively. She immediately thought John was saying she was drinking too much.

“Don’t drink that. The ice isn’t floating.” John was off before Evelyn could ask any more questions.

Slack jawed she watched John walk off. His broad shoulders were squared and he looked like he determined to do whatever caught his attention. John’s quick departure made your stomach drop. It was instant how you knew what he meant.

“Fuck.” You whispered.

“What’s going on?” Evelyn looked at you who seemed to understand what her father was saying.

“Your dad’s about to get himself arrested. Give me that.” You quickly took her drink and saw John was right.

Waving over the bartender he nodded to you. This was not how you wanted to spend your date night. Glancing over your shoulder you watched John push through the crowd of people and make his way to the center most booth. There was a group of men John’s age drinking beers and loudly laughing and talking.

“Um- this drinks spiked. Can you pull the security tapes and keep it back there in case-“ before you could finish, shouting broke out.

You didn’t bother looking. It was obvious to you what John was doing, but not to Evelyn who shrieked. Evelyn watched as John grabbed the man who had hit on her. He took him by the shoulders and yanked him out of the booth. To Evelyn’s horror her father dragged the man across the floor toward the door. The man’s friends jumped on John to try and stop him.

John kicked them off with ease and instead of taking this outside, he decided he’d do what he had planned in the bar. With the fury of a thousand men, John started swinging at the man who had somehow staggered in to his feet to try and get away. John was beating the snot out of the guy who had just hit on his daughter and then drugged her drink.

“What do you mean it’s spiked!?” Evelyn was looking between you and her father who had tackled the man to the floor, straddled the guy and threw punch after punch.

People were trying to pull John off but it was no use. John was glued to this guy and ready to pummel him into a pulp. It was his goal to leave this man a bloody mess on the sticky bar floor.

“When ice doesn’t float what does that mean about the liquid?” You looked at Evelyn who stared back absolutely flabbergasted by your question.

“Mum, this isn’t the time for one of your science lessons!” She snapped.

Pointing to her father you glanced over at John now trying to get the crowd of men off of him. They had dragged John off and a few people were helping the other man back to his feet.

“What does it mean?” You asked again calmly and waved off your husband. You couldn’t stop him and no part of you wanted to get involved in his violent tirade.

“Oh my god, you’re just as insane as him! It means the ice’s density is greater than the liquid.” In her frantic state Evelyn kept pushing her bangs back just for them to fall into her face again.

“Was it greater when you first got it?” You asked expectantly.

A man’s shriek caught your attention and you turned to see John chasing after the man who was trying to make a break for the door. John got ahold of him by the collar of his shirt and had him in a headlock a second later. He was trying to choke the guy out. Once again John was yanked off of the man who then tried to hobble toward the door. John dusted himself off, faked that he had calmed down, then once people let go of him was back to charging at the man.

“No- oh fuck. Dad’s gonna kill him!” Evelyn gasped.

“What the hell are you two even saying?” The bartender looked at both of you like you were crazy people.

You found it somewhat comical he didn’t seem concerned with the fight that had broken out. But John was currently being dragged off the guy by security, who were not messing around. They were having trouble keeping a hold of him. John had a firm grip on the guys hair and due to this he was being dragged along with John toward the exit. At one point John got his hands on the someone’s shoe and chucked it at a one of the bouncers and clocked him in the face.

“The ice isn’t floating.” You pointed at the ice sitting at the bottom of the drink.

Ignoring John was easier than fretting over him. He wouldn’t listen to you even if you screamed your head off. There was no use getting yourself worked up. John was going to be John and there was no changing that.

“It was floating earlier, it doesn’t just sink on its own. Means someone put something in it. For example, a roofie would do this or a huge amount of alcohol but we know that’s not possible.” You gestured to the full glass.

“Oh.” Evelyn stared at her drink blankly.

“Oh god! Mum the police are here.” Evelyn had her fingers in her hair and tugged at the roots.

“It’s fine- uhhh. We’ll bail him out, don’t worry.” You waved your hand for Evelyn to stay put but she grabbed you before you ran off.

“How are you not mad at him?” She half shrieked at you. You were her mother who hated violence and got on her, John and Jj’s case for fighting since she could remember.

“No way was I going to be able to convince him to not go after the guy. Plus anyone who tries to roofie a girl has it coming. You just happen to be our little girl so it feels a little better your father’s the one to beat the shit out of the guy.” With a shrug you turned and quickly made your way outside. You had to do that little run because you were in heels but you made it there after pushing through the crowd that had formed.

“You’re both crazy.” Evelyn’s said to herself.

Pushing through the crowd you collided with the door and burst through it. The cool night air tingled your warm skin. It completely sobered you up to see police hanging around. Putting on your sweetest smile you were prepared to do anything to get them to stop handcuffing John. John was standing calmly with his hands behind his back and being patted down.

“Do you have to arrest him? The guy tried to roofie our daughter.” You smiled sweetly as you exited the pub.

It was now your goal to do anything in your power to get John out of trouble, like you had done countless times. A small smirk broke out across John’s face seeing you act all sweet and innocent. It was one of your tactics to distract men and it almost always worked, to John’s dismay. He knew it would be hard to ignore your subtle flirting when you were dressed like the little mix John saw you as.

“Ma’am he beat the man unconscious. Yes, we have to arrest him.” The officer motioned to the man lying on the side walk and bleeding from his face. He was out cold with another officer attending to him.

“He’s military-“ You tried to explain hoping that could get John off the hook.

You batted your eyes which distracted both John and the young officer. It was impossible for John to ignore how pretty you looked when worried for him. The officer faltered for a second and then snapped out of whatever spell you had cast on him when your husband spoke.

“It’s okay, darling.” With a charming, satisfied smirk John gave you a wink.

You never thought he could look so handsome with handcuffs on and a black eye beginning to form. The sleeve of his shirt was torn at the shoulder slightly and the white fabric was smattered in beer and dirt. You and John held a searing hot gaze as he was moved to be put in the back of the cop car.

“Wait! Can I just give him a hug?” You asked before John was loaded into the back. You didn’t wait for a response and made your way toward John.

The one cop who seemed to be in charge found this amusing and nodded to the younger to let you. You gave John a hug around the middle and then a kiss to the lips. Smoothing down the front of his dirty dress shirt your slipped your hand in his back pocket and took out his cigar. John’s face split into a wide toothy grin as you offered it to him and he happily took it between his teeth. Letting out a breathy giggle you lit the cigar for John and left him with one last kiss to the cheek before keeping his lighter.

“So I doesn’t get stolen.” You returned the wink from a moment ago.

The two of you continued to stare deeply into one another’s eyes, absolutely captivated by the other. John found you to be the most divine woman to walk this earth. With your sweet flirty smile and big bright eyes, he was falling in love all over again.

John got into the back of the police car and to you it seemed like neither officer truly wanted to bring him in. They were looking between you two as if you were love sick teens. Only you and John had been married for so long and had built a life together. That kind of awe and wonder of young love never truly left but could come out in moments of adoration like tonight.

“Would’ve done the same thing ma’am. Come and collect him once everything with your daughter is settled. We’ll process him quickly.” The officer patted your back lightly and then went on his way.

“Thank you.” You smiled and went to go back inside.

“God, your parents are so in love.” Evelyn’s friend Isabel sighed in a day dream like state. They were watching the exchange from the window.

“I want someone to love me like that.” Archie drunkenly pointed at you.

“Don’t we all.” Evelyn sighed in mock annoyance.

——————

“My wife here yet?” John called from where he sat in the holding cell.

John had been there for over an hour just twiddling his thumbs. It was him and one other man who was piss drunk, Charlie. The older man who looked down on his luck was sitting on the floor in their corner and babbling on and on about god knows what.

John had realized once he was being processed his watch was gone. It made him laugh to himself that you had slipped it off of him when you grabbed his cigar. You had been practicing slight of hand since the your kids were little. Clearly you were good enough to be able to get John’s watch without him or the officers around noticing.

John was trying to distract himself as he waited for you to bail him out. He was thinking about stopping and getting something sweet on the way home or asking you to make him something. That was when a police officer came in with another man to join John and Charlie. John lit up like it was Christmas morning.

It was the man who drugged Evelyn’s drink.

“What a treat.” John smiled devilishly.

You were standing at the front of the precinct having just bailed your husband out. You kept getting glances from passing male officers that had you regretting your outfit. Tugging at the hem of the dress you wiggled it down a bit and awkwardly waved to an officer who was staring at you longer than you liked.

“So you just bring him out and I wait here?” You asked the man at the desk who sighed loudly.

This was the last thing he felt like explaining, you were certain of that. He seemed completely uninterested and like he would rather be anywhere else. Then he stared at your cleavage and then looked back up at your eyes before answering.

“Where else would you wait for him?” The officer asked condescendingly.

The rude tone had you straightening up and ready to tell him exactly where he could go. You opened your mouth with an insult on the tip of your tongue but you were interrupted.

“AHH~” You perked up at the sound of a man’s high pitched shriek from down the hall behind the desk. The shouting didn’t stop and it sounded like a horror movie scene where someone was screaming and begging for their life.

“BREAK IT UP!” There was more shouting after that and you watched as two more officer went jogging down the hall and took a right to the holding cell out of view.

A few minutes later you watched your husband appear at the end of the hall. He was being escorted by two officers who looked angry while John seemed rather proud of himself. John had the hugest smirk plastered across his face and perked up even more when he caught sight of you. That charming energy came flooding back to John making you feel giddy.

“Take him.” One of the officers shoved John in your direction.

“And if you pull shit like that again you’ll get sued into oblivion!” The officer warned John by putting his finger in your husbands face like he was a petulant child. John put his hands up pretending to be innocent and you could tell by the smug look plastered across his face he felt he had done nothing wrong.

“What’d you do?” You asked as John took your hand and walked toward the door.

He had no intention of waiting around. John wanted to go home and take his beautiful wife to bed after a much needed shower. Then something sweet would be needed before bed and he could call tonight a successful date night.

“Idiot put that prick in the same cell as me. Oh, and nice job getting my watch.” John snickered as he held the door for you.

“I don’t want to know what you did to him. . . But it was probably cruel and over the top. And thanks.” You scoffed while squeezing John’s hand and leading him toward your car.

“You know me so well.” With that said John scooped you up causing you to squeal in delight.

He carried you bridal style over to the car after whispering all the naughty things he was planning to do to you when you got home. Kicking your legs you kissed his neck and egged John on to tell you more. By the time you were getting into the passenger seat John’s calloused hand was under your skirt and groping your ass.

John practically had his tongue down your throat while you made out in the passenger seat with him leaning over you. Your skin felt hot and a warm feeling was flooding your knickers. It was intoxicating having his hand under your skirt and thumb rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves that made you go cross eyed. Finally you pushed him off and told him to take you home so you could have your way with him. You didn’t need to get a talking to for making out in the car park of the police station.

John happily obliged and buckled you up so he could pinch your bottom one last time. The ride home was spent humming along to music and stealing glances that lasted a few seconds too long. Finally, after one long look from John where his icy eyes roamed your body you had enough. Holding on to your desire wasn’t possible, waiting to get home wasn’t an option. You needed him now.

“You should pull over.” You smiled mischievously.

“Hm?” John looked over to you and then his gorgeous blue eyes went wide.

He watched as you slid your pretty red panties off and tossed them in his lap. The two of you were on the same page. As much as rolling around in the sheets was what you wanted, a quickie was what you needed. Then round two could commence as soon as you two got in the shower together.

“Pull over.” You purred.

“Yes ma’am.”

——————

Hours had passed since Evelyn watched her dad get taken away in handcuffs and you told her to take a cab to the house. As soon as she was in said cab, Evelyn was calling Jj to let him know what happened. Jj was cackling and rushing home to see the aftermath.

“Where the hell are they?” Lily was hanging around the kitchen with Evelyn and Jj waiting for you and their father to come home.

Everyone rushed home to hear more about it and get on their father’s case for going to jail. Lily had gone to a friend’s without telling you or John and felt lucky that Jj called and told her everyone was heading home. Only it was taking you a lot longer to get home than the kids originally thought.

To their surprise their grandfathers car pulled up the driveway and out stepped you and John. You looked humiliated and John was trying to hide his smirk while your dad scolded him. It was loud enough Jj, Evelyn, and Lily could hear him shouting but not able to make out what he was saying.

“Why’s papa mad at dad?” Jj scratched his head.

Seeing your dad a few inches from John’s face and tearing him a new one was not how you expected date night to end. The fiery rage in his eyes was directed at you a moment later and you instantly felt like a little kid again. Shrinking under his disapproving eyes you wished the ground would open up and swallow you.

“Jesus, he’s laying into them.” Evelyn was watching you and John with your heads cast down.

You were tapping your bare feet while John had his lips pursed to keep himself from laughing. After a breath you didn’t give your dad a chance to keep going and made your way to the door with your heels in hand. John was right behind you and high tailing it inside.

“What took you so long?” Evelyn asked when you came through the door.

Everyone was looking at you, confused how you became visibly flustered by the question. Forcing a smile you shook your head and opened your mouth. It took you a moment to speak, your mind clearly wandering to something.

“Oh, nothing.” You looked and sounded guilty.

“Nothing.” John nodded in agreement. He seemed a lot more held together than you.

It was obvious to Jj that something happened by how his father was crowding your space and standing a little closer than he usually did. In fact John was practically breathing down your neck as you two shuffled into the kitchen. The siblings were sharing looks while you poured a glass of water and John started the kettle.

Your dad could still be seen on the patio. He was staring out into the yard with his back to the house. All your children had seen him do this before when he was particularly mad at you. It was how he gathered himself before he started screaming his head off.

“Nothing happened?” Jj asked you since he knew he wouldn’t be able to read his father.

“Yup.” You nodded and avoided eye contact.

“They’re liars-“ coming into the house your father was like a tornado ready to tear everything apart.

“Dad!” Your voice was high pitched, a silent plea for him to stop talking.

“Got arrested for humping like teenagers in the back of their car.” Your dad barked at you.

John finally broke and started laughing uncontrollably. He had to hold on to the sink to keep himself steady. This did not amuse your father and he was gearing up to turn on John next. Getting a call from his grown daughter who needed to be bailed out along with her husband sent your dad into a tail spin. He spent the entire ride from the police station shouting at you and berating John.

“OH MY GOD!” Evelyn shrieked.

“That’s disgusting!” Jj threw his hands up, looking at you as if you lost your mind.

“Woah. . . WAIT! Mum you got arrested!?” Lily went from unimpressed to shocked.

This was not how your children saw you or John. Yes, they knew you two were flirty with each other. It was hard to ignore the passing glances and how you both playfully patted the other on the bum. But doing something like hooking up in the back of your car was unimaginable to them.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You were burning with embarrassment.

John’s uncontrollable laughter wasn’t helping you deal with the looks of disgust your two oldest had etched across their faces. Lily on the other hand didn’t seem interested in the conversation.

“We sit back there!” Jj practically yelled.

“And you’ve napped in our bed. What’s the difference?” John was just catching his breath.

His comment had Jj looking mortified and then John’s laughter kicked back up again at bursting his son’s bubble.

“Don’t let her fool you she’s been arrested before.” Your dad laughed loudly.

This was it, his punishment. It would be to air out your dirty laundry. You were an adult now, he couldn’t exactly ground you but maybe embarrassing you would keep you from acting so foolish again.

“Dad!” You hissed.

“WHAT!?” Your children shouted in your direction.

“Darling, why’ve you never told me about your criminal history?” John was belly laughing, unable to catch his breath and now leaning over the counter in his fit of hysterics. He knew everything about you, he was only teasing.

“You two can never get mad at us for anything, ever again.” Evelyn told you both.

“That’s not all!” Your dad was grinning like an idiot, looking proud of himself.

“I’ll kick your ass if you say another word!” You half shouted at your dad.

“Kick my ass?” He looked amused by the threat.

“Well. No. I’ll have John do it.” Meekly you pointed to John with your thumb.

Your dad and John shared a look. John shrugged and jokingly put his fists up. This had your dad chuckling deeply and shaking his head.

“Fine, but your mums no saint.” Your dad told your children who burst into endless questions.

“I know.” John grinned devilishly at you.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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[pipwritesoccasionally]

two little lines

toji x reader

in which you find out that you're pregnant and fear toji's reaction.

because of pregnancy this is technically an AFAB!reader, but I did my best to keep it gender neutral. though I did use the pet name "doll" (sorry it feels so toji), and I don't exactly know if it's gender neutral.

despite this technically being AFAB, if you're AMAB and want to read I am not here to yuck your yum.

wc: 1551

look at me mixing it up with a toji fic after three straight nanami fics!

parts: 2 3 4 5

______________________________________________________________

two little lines. all it took to seemingly destroy your entire life was two little lines on a pregnancy test. 

sure, it had been two months since your last period, and sure, you were in a long-term relationship, so pregnancy was something that was technically plausible. however, you just couldn’t fathom how you had been so careless. i mean, having two kids was enough, but a third? 

no, your husband was definitely going to leave you, and the thought of it made your heart clench. 

‘fuck,’ you thought, vision blurring. ‘everything is just going to end because of two stupid fucking pink lines?’ 

you’re lucky toji was off on some other random bounty hunt, giving you time to hide the test before going to pick megumi and tsumiki up from school. the floorboards creak as you run to the kitchen, throwing the test in the box with your favorite snacks, knowing toji would never look inside it.  

silence fills the house, creating a sharp juxtaposition with the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. there has to be some way to calm down before going to get your stepkids. you tried everything you could think of, from splashing cold water on your face to walking around to holding an ice cube in your hand, until eventually you got to a point where you felt like you could pretend. 

keys, wallet and stress in hand, you got in the car and headed to their elementary school. the kids were there, standing on the curb, and you waved as you approached. there seemed to be an argument before tsumiki opened the passenger-side door, megumi grumbling as he slid into the backseat. 

“how was school?” you asked, and the kids scrambled to talk about what they learned, from the different types of clouds to their times-tables. 

“it was super fun and the teacher said that we have a new project coming up about the types of clouds! we get to make diaramas of them and it sounds really fun!” tsumiki exclaims, the smile evident in her voice. 

“that does sound fun! you’ll have to tell your dad all about it when he gets home,” you feel your brows furrow at the mention of toji, but you quickly resume your role of the happy guardian so as not to cause any problems. 

the house comes into view minutes later, and megumi runs inside. you turn to get out before tsumiki sighs softly. 

“wait,” she says, and you turn to her. “is something wrong?” 

‘curse her for being so observant,’ you think, but you shake your head quickly. 

“nothing for you to worry about, just worried about your father, as always,” which technically is not a lie, just not fully the truth. 

“oh, well you know that he’ll be okay! he’ll be back and then he’ll stomp around the house talking about those ‘damn sorcerers’-” tsumiki deepens her voice to imitate her father, but you stop her. 

“hey! watch your language!” she opens the door and runs inside, laughing the whole way, and you smile softly. you really do love those kids, even if they aren’t yours by blood. 

the house is cold when you enter, and you make your way towards the thermostat. however, before you can even turn the temperature up, a sour taste climbs up your throat. you feel sweat drench your brow, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re going to throw up. 

you run up the stairs, throwing yourself in front of the toilet to empty your stomach. footsteps pad up the stairs, and you feel a little hand rubbing against your back. 

“(y/n)? are you sure you’re okay?” tsumiki’s soft voice brought tears to your eyes, more running down your cheeks as you retched. it took a minute or two to get everything out of your system before you sit back on your heels. 

“sorry, i guess i’m a little sick. we should have some microwavable meals in the fridge, do you think you could make some food for you and megumi?” she nods, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

‘he’s going to find out soon,’ you worry, brushing your teeth to rid the awful taste from your mouth. ‘i guess i should get some rest so i don’t have to face him when he comes home.’ 

you sink into your shared bed, blankets reaching out to hug your body, and you drift off to sleep. 

the bed sinks, pulling you out of your slumber. you begin to turn to face your husband before you’re reminded of the events from earlier. your pulse is rapid, and you think about pretending that you’re still asleep before toji speaks. 

“hey doll. ‘miki said that you weren’t feeling well earlier. you’re not hurt, are you? i can handle whoever it is for you.” you smile at the softness he only displays for you, but how can you explain that the person causing you stress is none other than him?

“i’m okay. it’s probably food poisoning or something. you did cook dinner last night,” he frowns, groaning lowly. 

“i’m not that bad. the brats said it was fine enough,” you laugh at him, burrowing into the blankets. your husband slides his shirt over his head, revealing his broad shoulders riddled with muscles and scars. mindlessly, you reach out to caress him softly, and he slides into bed beside you. while normally you’d ask to lay on his chest, you’re worried being that close would make him aware of your irregular pulse. 

“goodnight babe,” you say, curling back into yourself and closing your eyes, knowing that if you look at him now his confusion would cause the truth to tumble out. 

“night doll,” he hesitates, weight settling in on the other side of the bed. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you wake up to a quiet house, something that sets you off immediately. two elementary school aged kids does not bode well for a quiet house, and so you sit up, reaching to your right to find toji’s side of the bed cold to the touch. 

‘okay, something’s up.’ 

you walk down the stairs to the kitchen, calling out for the kids, only to see that their shoes aren’t by the door. toji’s in the kitchen, looking through the fridge. 

“hey babe, where are the kids?” you normally get them off to school, but it seems that maybe you’d slept in late. 

“they’re at school,” he says shortly, taking you aback. 

“okay. sorry i slept in, i must have been really tire-” you stop when you step into the kitchen, seeing your positive pregnancy test on the counter. the whole world freezes, and you can feel everything crashing down. 

“oh that? yeah, it was weird. i tried to bring your favorite snack to you in bed when the box was making a weird sound. found that at the bottom.” he gestures haphazardly, cracking the dam holding the next wave of your anxiety back. 

“it’s a friend’s-”

“don’t bullshit me. were you even going to tell me?” his voice is low, eyes piercing. 

“toji-” 

“were. you. going. to. tell me.” he enunciates. 

“i didn’t know how! i mean seriously, you have two kids to worry about, the last thing you need is a fucking baby! i get it, it’s over. i’ll go get my shit,” tears are running down your cheeks as you tear out your heart with your bare hands. you turn to leave, making your way upstairs, when a hand grabs your wrist softly. 

“wait–doll. fuck.” he turns you to face him. “you don’t have to leave.” 

“of course i fucking do. should probably go now before the kids get back. i don’t want them involved.” you take another step, but his grip remains firm. 

“i said you don’t have to leave. the brat’s mine too.” 

“wait. you want to keep it?” he looks to the side, rubbing his other hand against his neck. 

“of course i fucking do,” he mirrors, and your eyes widen. 

“you mean…you’re not mad?” 

“i’m mad you didn’t tell me, not about the brat.” your eyes water, and before you know it you’re sobbing into his chest. 

“what is this all about? you really have such a low opinion of me to think i’d kick you out?” his voice rumbles through his chest against your ear. 

“you’re just so busy, and i thought…i thought that you would be mad,” you sob even harder, not knowing where the emotions end and hormones begin. 

“so what? i’d just kick you to the curb?” 

“i mean, you have two kids already…maybe a third would be too much.” he starts to chuckle, causing you to pull away from him. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“that you seriously thought i’d kick you out. i don’t break promises, doll, and marriage is just a big promise. besides, you’d probably get custody of the brats. they like you more than me.” 

you run your hands over your face before reaching out to play with his hair. 

“you’re really not mad?” you repeat, and he rolls his eyes.

“no dumbass. besides, i can’t let any other men see how hot you are carrying my kid.” you snort, circling your arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

“love you, toji.” 

“love you too, doll.” he says, your lips meeting.

[riniworld]

partners in crime

yandere!mafia member!oc x bartender!fem!reader

warnings|| alcohol, stalking, blood, guns/gunshot, stabbing, death/killing, mention of drugs/drug dealing, mention of addiction, violence, panic attack symptoms described

references|| you, pretty, she/her.

a/n|| i swear this is the last oc I'll create, the family is whole now.

the place reck of the smell of alcohol, and wood, it's a small simple bar you own, not flashy or for partying, people usually come here to just drink their sorrow away in a calm place, you made sure there's no fights happening in here, so it was pretty peaceful.

like usual, the few people who knew about this place came, mumbles and whispers filled the place, it was a perfect night, not too cold not too warm, or so you thought it was perfect...

a loud roaring of a motorcycle stopped at your door, you sigh as you knew exactly whos here to disturb the night. the door swinged open loudly, making everyone look at the entrance startled, expect you, who were familiar with his behavior.

veto entered the place with a smug smirk, not buying any mind to the people or the disturb he's causing, he looked exactly who he is, with a leather jacket and pants, all black, a typical mafia member.

he sit on one of the stools in front of you. done with him you pour him a drink in frustration, he took it and drank a small sip "what's with all the sulking, pretty?" he said with this teasing tone of his, "my face turn like this when i see someone extremely annoying." you said as you got back to working, which was just cleaning the glasses that people finished.

a few months back, veto stumbled upon this place, he heard that it served quite the good drinks, beside it's hidden from the people so it's a good hiding spot, but with his behavior he caused a problem that escalated into a fight, and it made you kick him out. taking this as a challenge, veto continued to come here and got kicked out quite alot of times, he quickly got a liking to the bold bartender, you, and he rarely liked someone, or cared about one, beside his boss, orson, who took him under his wing at 16, saving him from being homeless and starving to death.

but he doesn't think it's a simple liking anymore, he knows he's a jealous man, he get jealous from his boss partner and how he can't get as much attention from him because of this, but with you it's different, he feel a really strong anger when someone talks to you, even if it was just ordering a drink, he made at least three of whom flirted with you a target to the mafia, making their life miserable, sometimes if he's free he'll follow you home just because he genuinely feel scared you'll talk to someone on your way, and ironically all of this strange behavior he gained is making him scared as well, he can't even focus on his job while thinking about you.

"what are you staring at?" he got pulled out of his thoughts when you spoke, and his smirk returned "what? feeling shy?" he said and poured himself another glass. you roll your eyes "what, you never learned that staring is rude?" you mimic his tone.

he shrug "people look at what catch the eye, or at beautiful painting." at the last line he looked at you from head to toe. you can't lie that sometimes his flirting get to you. you scoff as you have no comeback, which only made him chuckle.

suddenly his phone rang, as soon as he took it out of his pocket his eyes widen "oh shit" he mumble "i completely forgot about the meeting." and quickly stood up, "see you soon pretty." he leaned down and kissed your hand, "my boss is calling" he told you that like he owe you an explanation to why he's going.

that night while you were wiping the floor, you found a wallet on the ground where veto was seated, it must have fallen when he got his phone out, you pick it up and open it, there was his id and credit card in it, how can someone not notice when he's missing something this important?

you remember he told you onetime about a place he work in while he was rambling about himself, would you really go to give it back? he'll eventually come here again, but sometimes it takes him weeks to come again, with a groan you decided that its better to return it, what will you lose anyway, and he might actually need it.

so the next day you did exactly that, the place was a really...flashy casino, not their main base, but one of the many places they do work in, he told you he spend most of his time there as he is the 'boss' of this section, you clunch on your bag strap and get in, inside it was mostly dark, with the colourful colors lightening the place, if someone was here long enough they wouldn't know it's day outside, and quite busy as well, you're surprised that it can be this busy during the day.

you walk around, looking for a staff you can ask, you saw a man approaching you, from his clothes he looks like he's a staff member, he must have saw you're lost.

"can i help you?"

"ah..is it possible that i can meet veto?" you asked.

he got tacken aback by your request "the boss?" he asked "what's your relationship with him?"

"i have something of his that i want to return." he looked skeptical when you said that "I'll inform him." he said and asked for you to wait around until he go tell him.

veto was playing cards with some high ranking people in his office when the staff knocked on the door, and he gave permission for him to enter.

"boss, there's a woman that wants to see you."

veto looked uninterested as he continued to throw cards "who?"

"i don't know, she said that she has something of yours."

that got his interest, he excused himself and went behind the staff that was leading him to where you are, when he catched your form a few feet away he stopped suddenly, eyes widening. he cursed under his breath.

"you can go now." he ordered the staff and they complied, he quickly went to you, you looked like a lost cat, looking around while holding onto your bag, what got you in a place like this?

he grabbed your arm suddenly, startled you let out a yelp as he immediately dragged you to a secluded area, he pushed you against a wall and looked at you frowning "what are you doing here?!" he whisper-yelled at you.

"why are you angry?" you asked confused "you forgot your wallet at the bar." you duck your head down looking in your bag, when you found it you gave it to him, he looked at it in your hand stunned "you came here just to give this back?" he looked back up at you as he took his wallet from you.

"i thought you might need it."

he sighed "pretty, I'm a mafia, i wouldn't need what in here that much, you could have waited until i came to you myself...but anyway i appreciate it,and don't come here again."

"why?"

"here isn't like in your bar, these people are filthy and you don't know what they might do."

"i run a bar I'm familiar with these things" you say as a matter of fact.

veto let out a breath in frustration and paced a little back "you know what? let's just get you back home." you didn't get to reply before he's pushing you in the direction of the door.

"hey, wait!" your struggle went on deaf ears as he put in a car and closed the door, you saw him talking to one of the security on the casino door, they nod and get in the car you're in, you look at them confused then back at veto who just wave at you goodbye before the car start moving.

veto watch the car go, when it was out of the view he got inside, as he walked back to his office he looked down at his wallet and smiled fondly.

you've never regreted anything that much in your life, veto didn't let you live it down, whenever he came again he'll ramble about how you came a long way "just for him".

you were tidying the place up, everyone has gone back home, despite veto who refused to go or even help, he kept himself sat in his spot, emptying bottle after the another, and not looking the slightest tipsy at all!

flipping the last chair on its table, you walk to veto and snatch the glass from his hands "you'll kill yourself with all this drinking, if you have high tolerance that doesn't mean your liver can handle it." you scolded him, while washing the glass and throwing the half filled bottle in the trash.

"don't be kill joy, pretty." he said in a whiny tone, but soon smiled stpuidly and leaned on the bar counter "or just say you care about me that much."

"if by care you mean i don't want someone to die because of my drinks, then...say whatever.." you mumble the last words as your phone start ringing, you scowl as the screen and hit decline.

veto raised his eyebrows in skepticism "who called?". you take a rag and start wiping the bar counter" nobody." you said nonchalantly.

"that 'nobody' has called three times in the past three hours, and you didn't pick any call from them, so it's either a scammer or someone annoying."

you sigh, there's no avoiding him is there? "my ex." you answered.

his eyes got wide open and he lift himself off the table in alert "your ex?, what does he want calling you?" he eyed your phone, tempting to take it and look at the caller.

"don't give him any mind, he's just a bastard."

veto let out a breath through his nose to calm himself down, he looked away from your phone and back at you "he must have done something really bad to get called like that." he tried to joke "did he cheat?"

you look at him with a questioning smirk as you put the rag in its place and sit in front of him "aren't you asking so much?"

he shrug "just making a conversation." he leaned back on his hand, keeping eye contact with you, for a few minutes you two kept looking at eachother eyes with a smile, if anyone saw you they'll say you were flirting internally.

you catch on what you were doing, and look away, clearing your throat "he..i found out he was a drug dealer so i dumped him."

"without reporting him to the police?"

"if i report every bad person who visit my bar then I'll lose half my customers, and you'd be in jail already. i just got myself out of a disaster, he was toxic anyway." you stand up to gather your things, and put on your coat. "I'll head home, either you do too, or you'll have the closing duty." you said with a hint of a laugh.

veto got up as well "hell no, i don't even like doing my duties." he walked behind you as you took your keys from the hanger "how did you not get catched yet?" you said as you opened the door, when you turned your head forward you stopped suddenly, which made veto bump in you.

"why did you-" he paused when he saw you looking concerned at a man standing a bit far ahead from the bar door.

you press your lips together and turned back to lock the door "see you later." you murmured to veto mindlessly and started walking in your house direction.

veto kept eyeing the man whos eyes didn't leave your form as you get further that he even forgot offering to drive you home.

skeptical, veto got on his motorcycle, the moment he looked away from the man to turn his motorcycle on, he started running to catch up to you, when veto looked back up there was no one, but he had that uneasy feeling in his chest so he decided to go behind you, ensuring that you arrive home safely.

by the time he catched up, he saw you arguing with the same man from before, not wasting any second he ran as fast as he can, and in a blink of an eye he was already on the man holding him by the collar.

"what do you want from her?!" veto said angrily, tightening his hold on him, now looking at him closely, he looked like an addict, dark circle under his eyes with, disheveled hair and red eyes, veto almost pity him.

"who even are you!?" your ex yelled in a gruff voice.

"I'll be your death, if you come near her again." he pushed him away and walked to you, grab your arm "let's go." he commanded not giving you space to say anything back.

as veto dragged you away, you look back and catched your ex getting a knife out of his pocket, he lunged forward in your direction quickly stabbing veto before you can utter a word.

veto clutched his side with a grunt and you catched him as he stumble. your ex took a few steps away, he looked as shocked as you, the knife in his hand still dripping blood.

veto fell on his knee, leaning onto you, his eyes still focused on your ex who tried to run, but veto gathered all of his strength to get his gun out and shot him, you let out a short scream at the sound of the bullet firing, and you look in horror at your ex's body falling to the ground, as if in sync, veto passed out next.

you don't know what you'll do, your hands are shaking as you wrap veto's wound with a scarf you had in your purse, you can't stop looking at your ex's body, but everytime you did you got more panicked, tears stinging your eyes as it was getting harder and harder to breath.

you wish someone would pass through here and help you, but at the same time you don't, the idea is scary as much as it is relieving, the hell you're thinking? you should get veto to your house quickly and treat him.

you tried to open your purse, but the zipper kept slipping because your hands were stained in blood.....stained in blood like you were a part of all of this, like a sign to play with your brain. you shook your head and wiped your hands on your clothes then opened your purse, you take your phone out dialing 911 asking for an ambulance, you gave the adress and quickly hung up. your bar was closer than your house so you pick veto up, the adrenaline rushing in you making it easier to hold him and take him to your bar.

veto woke up because of a sharp pain in his side, he let out a groan before opening his eyes, as he regain his consciousness he felt a pair of hands around him, looking down he saw your wrapping a bandage around his abdomen.

"am i in heaven?" he asked with a weak smile.

you look back at him and smile in retrun, then returned your gaze back at his wound "if you die you won't go to heaven."

"then it must be such a good dream, to see you touching me bare."

you press slightly on his wound, earning a muffled grunt "it's not a dream either."

"it would be if you say that you like my body, right now." he laughs breathly, then looked at you, he noticed how you're trying to hide the tremble in your lips, or how clumsy you're moving your hands, his expression softened slightly, he had never intended on getting you involved in these things.

"where are we?" he asked

"the backroom of my bar." you finished wrapping his wound and covered him with a blanket "you should rest." as you said that you quickly left, leaving him alone in the room.

well, at least you two got closer in a way.

[kammieeeee]

❥ - the price of pride

xo kitty

pairing ↠ minho moon x fem!reader

genre ↠ slight angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn

↠ in which, after paying for your lunch as a favor, minho asks you to kiss him in front of everyone in the cafeteria

Minho always had that cocky grin. It was his signature, really. It made your blood boil every single time. And the fact that he flaunted it around like he owned the entire school? Well, that was just the cherry on top of the hellish sundae you had to endure every day.

You didn’t know what it was about Minho that got under your skin so much. Maybe it was the way he strutted through the halls like he was God’s gift to humanity. Maybe it was the way his voice could be heard over any other, no matter how crowded the hallways were. Maybe it was that one too many times you had tried to focus on your work, only to have him smirk at you from across the room, or shove his way into the seat next to yours in class just to mess with you.

Whatever it was, the feeling was mutual. You hated him, and he made sure you knew it.

But you never thought he’d actually do something... nice for you.

The cafeteria was packed as usual. The smell of greasy fries and overcooked chicken filled the air, and students were scattered across the long rows of tables. You grabbed your usual—chicken sandwich, fries, iced tea—and made your way to the register, head down, hoping to avoid the usual social circus that always surrounded the most popular kids in school, namely Minho and his crew.

You swiped your card, the routine motion something you could almost do with your eyes closed, but then the machine beeped.

“Transaction Declined.”

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment, and you glanced at the cashier, who looked at you with an apologetic smile. "Uh, is there another card you want to try?" she asked, glancing nervously over her shoulder as the line behind you grew longer.

Your heart sank. You checked your purse and wallet, hoping to find something, anything that could save you from the impending humiliation. But nothing. Just your student ID and a few crumpled receipts. Your face flushed with heat.

“I—uh—” you mumbled, trying to hide your panic. “I’m sorry, I’ll just… I’ll get out of the way.”

“You sure about that?” came a voice behind you, smooth and taunting. Of course. It was Minho, sauntering up like he owned the place, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. “I think you owe the cashier, don’t you?”

“Shut up, Minho,” you muttered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You couldn’t even look him in the eye. Your frustration was growing by the second, but you also felt a little helpless. How could you get out of this without being the subject of everyone’s gossip?

“You know,” Minho said with an exaggerated sigh, pulling out his wallet. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.” He slid some cash onto the counter with a flourish and winked at you.

“You—what?” You blinked, too stunned to even be properly mad. “Why would you pay for me? What’s your angle?”

Minho grinned, but this time, it wasn’t quite as smug. “No angle. Just doing a good deed. But don’t get too excited. You owe me.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of favor are we talking about here?”

He leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost playful tone. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be collecting soon enough.” And with that, he turned, leaving you standing at the register with your food in hand, heart racing with a combination of confusion and irritation.

You thought, maybe, just maybe, that Minho had been messing around. But it was the next day, in the middle of the courtyard at K.I.S.S., when he strolled up to you, that you realized he wasn’t joking.

You and your besties, Q and Kitty, were sitting on the steps by the lockers, talking about the ridiculousness of your calculus homework when Minho appeared. Of course, his usual swagger was on full display as he leaned against the railing, arms crossed, eyes fixed directly on you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said, as if you weren’t sitting there trying to avoid his existence.

You blinked, clearly annoyed but too tired to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “What do you want, Minho?”

He tilted his head, his smirk only growing. “Remember that favor I told you about?”

Kitty, who had been sipping her iced coffee, nearly choked. “What favor?” she asked, glancing from you to Minho, confusion evident on her face.

Minho, unbothered, shot her a look before focusing entirely on you. “Yesterday. You owe me. I paid for your lunch. Now it’s time to pay up.”

Q raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “Wait, you paid for her lunch?” She shot you a knowing glance. “You hate him. Why would you even—”

“I don’t know. He’s got some kind of power over me, okay?” you grumbled, already over the conversation. “What do you want, Minho?”

Minho grinned, clearly enjoying every moment of your discomfort. He straightened up, stretching lazily. “It’s simple. I want a kiss.”

Your heart stopped, your breath catching in your throat. “What?”

Kitty spluttered. “Wait, what?! A kiss?!”

Minho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “That’s right. You kiss me. In front of everyone. Right here, right now. And then we’re square.”

“Are you insane?” you snapped, standing up abruptly. “I’m not doing that. What kind of payment is that?”

“Oh, it’s the perfect payment,” Minho replied, his tone dripping with self-assurance. “You’re just scared because of what people will think. I get it.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. “But hey, it’s just a kiss. What’s the big deal?”

Your mouth went dry, and for a moment, you just stood there. Your mind raced. You could see Q and Kitty in the corner of your vision, both with their jaws hanging open, but you couldn’t process it. Minho had already gone too far, and you had a choice to make: give him what he wanted or let him ruin your reputation.

Before you could even respond, Minho’s gaze hardened. “You’re not going to back out of this, are you?”

Something snapped in you. You didn’t know if it was pride or desperation, but you stepped forward, determined to end it on your terms. “Fine. You want your damn kiss? You’ll get it.”

You kissed him.

It was quick—way too quick for you to even gather your thoughts—but there it was. Your lips were pressed against his, and the world seemed to go still. The soft pressure of his lips was too much and too little all at once. Before you could even pull away, the school courtyard erupted into chaos.

The next day was worse than you could have imagined. You walked through the school halls, feeling the weight of everyone staring at you. You could hear snippets of hushed conversation, whispers drifting in your direction. The rumors were flying, faster than you could blink.

“Did you hear? (Y/N) kissed Minho!”

“Yeah, it was all over the courtyard. In front of everyone. He totally owns her now.”

“Wait, didn’t they hate each other before?”

Your face was burning with embarrassment, but there was nothing you could do. You tried to avoid looking anyone in the eye as you walked to your first class, hoping the day would just be over already.

It was then that you bumped into Q and Kitty, both looking utterly shell-shocked.

“(Y/N),” Q began, her voice coming out in a breathless rush. “What the hell was that? You just kissed him? What is happening?”

“I don’t even know anymore!” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. And the worst part? He’s loving every second of it!”

Kitty’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But... but why? Why would you kiss him?”

You sighed heavily. “He—he threatened to tell everyone I didn’t pay him back for his lunch if I didn’t kiss him.”

“That dick,” Q muttered, rolling her eyes. “I swear, he’s a walking disaster. Now the whole school thinks you two are a thing.”

“That’s the least of my problems,” you muttered under your breath. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”

Kitty clutched her chest, her voice filled with genuine concern. “(Y/N), I can’t believe you actually did that. Minho, of all people? Ugh, I’m having a heart attack just thinking about it.”

And then, as if to add fuel to the fire, Minho walked past the three of you, glancing over his shoulder with that stupid, cocky grin plastered on his face. “Thanks for the kiss, sweetheart,” he said casually. “You’re the talk of the school.”

You shot him a glare. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Minho just shrugged, that damned smirk never leaving his face. “Oh, I’ll milk this for as long as I can.”

-----

That evening, you collapsed into bed, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t escape the feeling of all the rumors and the weight of everyone’s eyes on you.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the screen to see a message from Q:

“Okay, real talk, you’re a legend for kissing him. But you owe me a drink for that shenanigan tomorrow. Seriously, I need to hear how you managed to survive the rumors 😂”

You smiled weakly, but the tension in your chest didn’t ease. You were in deep now, and Minho wasn’t going to let you forget it.

As you replied to Q’s message, you felt a strange sense of inevitability. Minho had you right where he wanted you, and somehow, you were going to have to figure out how to get out of this without losing all your dignity in the process. But one thing was for sure—this was just the beginning.

The days following your kiss with Minho felt like a never-ending cycle of mortification. Every class, every hallway, every interaction seemed to carry the weight of the rumors. Your reputation had gone from “average student” to “Minho’s new target.” Every conversation you had, whether with friends or classmates, was clouded by it.

The worst part? You hadn’t expected Minho to milk this so much.

----

The next day in biology class, you could feel the eyes on you. People barely bothered to whisper anymore. They just stared. Minho, sitting three rows ahead of you, was an absolute menace. He would shoot you little glances over his shoulder, his lips curling into that smug, infuriating grin. It was as if he knew exactly how uncomfortable you were, and he was relishing in it.

To make matters worse, during class, he raised his hand. “Hey, Mrs. Lee, could I go over the board for a moment? I think we missed something in the last section.” He didn’t wait for permission before grabbing a marker and heading up to the whiteboard, turning back to face the class.

He paused dramatically, eyes scanning over the room. Everyone was silent, waiting for him to continue. Then, his gaze flicked directly to you, and his voice came out in a smooth, teasing tone.

“Oh, and by the way, (Y/N), the kiss? Totally worth it.”

The room erupted into stifled laughter, some students coughing to hide their amusement. Your stomach dropped, and your face turned redder than it already had been. How could he just say that, so nonchalantly?

You clenched your fists under the desk, but before you could say anything, Mrs. Lee’s voice cut through the chaos. “Minho, focus on the lesson, please.”

He didn’t even acknowledge her. Instead, he continued to look right at you, all but daring you to react.

After class, you met up with Q and Kitty near the lockers. Both of them were seething. Kitty, her usual cool and collected demeanor gone, was pacing back and forth with a furious look on her face.

“Okay, this is beyond ridiculous,” she huffed. “You know Minho’s doing this on purpose, right?”

“No shit, Kitty,” you muttered. “What do you think I’ve been dealing with for the past 48 hours? I’m just—” You stopped mid-sentence, realizing how defeated you sounded. You hated that Minho had reduced you to this anxious mess.

“You know what?” Q said suddenly, her voice low and almost dangerous. “You need to talk to him. Like, seriously. This is getting out of hand. You’re better than this, (Y/N). Don’t let him walk all over you.”

“I don’t think talking to him is going to do anything,” you replied, rubbing your temples. “He’s probably enjoying this way too much.”

“Well, it’s not about whether he enjoys it or not,” Kitty chimed in, her voice soft but firm. “You need to take back control. If you let him keep doing this, it’ll never stop.”

It was the first time someone had actually made you think about it that way. You realized they were right. You couldn’t keep letting Minho drag you through this. You had to confront him.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to him. But you both better have my back.”

“Always,” Q said with a smirk. “Now go show that cocky bastard who’s boss.”

It was the next lunch period, and you could feel the tension thick in the air as you made your way down the crowded hallway, heading straight for Minho, who was surrounded by his usual group of friends. Your heart pounded in your chest as you neared him, your footsteps echoing louder than normal in the silence that seemed to surround you.

Minho, of course, saw you coming. He straightened up, his usual cocky smirk forming as he leaned against the lockers, arms folded.

“You know, (Y/N), you really should learn to enjoy the attention,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Seems like everyone’s just waiting to see what happens next.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Cut it out, Minho,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve had enough of you parading me around like some kind of joke.”

Minho’s smirk faltered for just a moment, but then he shrugged, his expression regaining its usual arrogant charm. “Oh? So now you’re done playing the game?”

“I didn’t play the game, Minho,” you shot back, stepping closer. “You took something that was supposed to be between us—a moment of stupidity—and turned it into a spectacle. Everyone’s talking about it, and I’m sick of being the punchline. So, you can either keep acting like a jerk, or you can actually be the person you pretended to be for a second when you paid for my lunch.”

For the first time in days, you saw a flicker of something other than arrogance in his eyes. It wasn’t guilt—more like an understanding that he had pushed you too far.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he said quietly, his tone dropping a notch. “I was just messing with you.”

“Yeah, well, you succeeded,” you snapped. “But don’t think you can keep doing this to me. You don’t get to make me your entertainment every time you’re bored. You owe me an apology.”

Minho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at you with something close to regret in his eyes. “Alright, alright. I get it. You want me to stop acting like an idiot. Fine. But you know, you could’ve just said no to the kiss instead of making such a big deal about it.”

You glared at him, not giving in. “It’s not about the kiss. It’s about how you’ve been treating me. If you can’t respect that, then don’t even bother talking to me.”

He stayed quiet for a beat, his expression serious for the first time in a while. “You’re right,” he finally muttered. “I’ve been a dick. I’ll lay off. But you are still gonna owe me.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is you apologizing?”

“Yeah, well, it’s the best I’ve got right now.”

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze on your back, but for once, it didn’t feel like an invasion. You had stood up for yourself. Maybe things with Minho weren’t going to change overnight, but this was a start.

-----

The next few days passed without the constant stares and whispers. Minho actually kept his distance—surprisingly, he seemed to respect the boundaries you’d set. You still exchanged a few tense words here and there, but it wasn’t nearly as awful as before.

By the end of the week, you were standing near the cafeteria when Minho approached, but this time, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I meant what I said,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “I—uh, thanks, I guess. Apology accepted.”

Minho gave a small nod, and for once, there was no smug grin on his face. Just a genuine acknowledgment that he had gone too far.

It wasn’t exactly a fairy tale ending, but it was a step in the right direction. Maybe Minho wasn’t the worst guy in the world. And maybe, just maybe, things could get better between you two. But for now, you were okay with keeping things civil.

For once, your pride wasn’t so much about winning—it was about setting things right.

And you had done that.

[jesuistrestriste]

swallow me whole; eater!art x eater!reader

was originally going to post this on my sideblog where i first was thinking about this fic but changed my mind

@t1ts-4-donaldson @grimsonandclover more bones and all au? (check out their au pieces!)

cw (18+) : switch!art donaldson, switch!reader, gore, *cannibalism, death, messy + cathartic intimacy, handjob, fingering, angst, crying/dacryphilia (heed the warnings)

to you and art, consuming flesh is like breathing.

natural, comfortable, instinctual.

it's now become easy to ravenously tear open a dead body in the woods and shovel the insides into your mouth, as easy as tearing open a mailed package from your ma. it's easy to let the metallic tang of blood coat your chin and lips and stick to the undersides of your blunt fingernails before you lick yourself clean—like an alley cat. it's easy to suck the marrow from the bones of someone who probably had a life. maybe even a great one.

it's just easy.

physically, that is.

but because consuming your guys' meal of choice comes with an unfathomable amount of cognitive dissonance and all-consuming guilt, eating people is a luxury. a treat.

the both of you regularly settle for regular foods. dry waffles and bitter orange juice and bad coffee from diners that will accept the little cash that the two of you manage to collect from the pockets and wallets of victims. it's better than nothing, the both of you suppose, better than wasting away.

after meeting on the road months ago, you and art have found a way to live somewhat comfortably. trekking from county to county with stolen cars or by foot, roaming aimlessly like reanimated corpses (which is ironic, considering). no mission, no goal, just two dumb kids in love who desperately want to cling to each other for as long as possible. a vow made to keep each other safe, and to keep the urge contained.

while the journey to nowhere is usually warm and beautiful, it quickly becomes gruesome and bone-splitting as soon as the true hunger can no longer be ignored. the smell, god, the smell..

for those who aren't eaters, the wave of desire that floods through when a scent is picked up can be likened to the feeling you’d get in your body if you ran for miles and miles in the sun and suddenly stumbled upon a glass of cool water.

it's unnerving how irresistible it is.

it’s like a rabid dog caught in your chest; snarling, spitting, biting through the metal fencing that protects a plump hare on the other side.

the hunger blows your and art's pupils wide and swirls in heady waves through your heads. you can almost smell the thrum of the person's pulse under their skin, the flexing of their muscles, the stretching of their tendons. you can almost smell the way they’ll taste.

this night’s hunger is no different.

the two of you had been getting ready to squat in a seemingly-abandoned home, when the both of you sniffed the air and caught sight of a young man. probably in his early to mid twenties. dirty white tee shirt, dark brown hair, heavy jeans, leather boots.

all it took was a bit of flirting for the guy to follow you and art to the home, guided under the premise of giving and receiving pleasure before it got dark out. you had looked away when the worst part was happening—it was art’s turn to do the deed this time around anyway. he could handle it on his own.

as soon as the man was gone, limp and lifeless, the two of you stripped him bare. then you both got undressed as well to salvage your clothing. and then you feasted.

now you and him have the man laid across the wooden floor in the empty living room of the rotten house. a horrific, naked mess while you two devour him.

the room is filled with wet squelching and the moans of finally satisfying an innate craving. you and your boyfriend suddenly aren’t the lovers you’d been hours before, now having been transformed into beasts that happily swallow down the remains of another human.

when you pause and sit upright to chew, breathing heavily through your nose, you get a good look at the man’s face. the sunset’s light pouring through dusty curtains to bathe his features in orange. he has freckles. you swallow, reaching up and dragging the tip of your index finger down the length of his nose, over the small bump in it. red follows in the wake of your touch and paints his skin.

“don’t do that,” art murmurs around a sticky mouthful, “that’s s’fucking morbid.”

you shift your gaze.

“isn’t this already morbid? i just want to look at him.”

he shakes his head. he sniffles and blinks back the wetness that glosses his eyes, pulling another handful from the body and cradling it to his lips.

art cries sometimes when you and him feed.

sometimes you cry too.

you look back down to the face of the person whose life you stole for your own benefit, and you lick the remnants of his demise from your thumb.

i’m sorry, you think.

then art really does start to lose it.

his blonde curls stick to his forehead with the summer heat, his shoulders hitching and his face crumpling as heavy tears spill down his cheeks and over the blood matted to his mouth. he sits upright for a moment, only to then bury his face in the crook of his elbow and sob into it. you frown. you reach up and run your fingers through his hair and watch as the crimson coats his strands.

“i love you..” you whisper shakily, “don’t feel bad.”

which is an unfair thing to say.

you two should feel bad—should feel worse.

in fact, the two of you should probably have been brutally punished by some justified force of nature by now, but you haven’t. not yet.

maybe there’s divinity in corrupt consumption.

art chokes on his cries and sits upright again to look to your face. his blues are brighter than ever.

“we can’t keep doing this.. i-i can’t live like this. we’re bad people. you know that, right? we’re fucking monsters—“

he doesn’t mean it.

you lean in and pull him into your arms. your touch envelops him but he can’t do anything except shatter harder. you’re comforting him, holding him, over the husk of your meal. a carcass now. you try not to think about how the man below might have once been held in this way. you think about the reality that you might’ve stolen him from someone he loved as much as you love art. maybe you really are bad people.

but you shove the thought down quick enough to stop its infestation, and then you tell the blonde in front of you the only thing that makes your chest stop tightening.

“we can’t always help it.. we’re only animals.”

the words from your lips spread through art’s brain like a painful toxin. he clings to you harder, and then he’s stumbling to his feet and pulling you up with him. he smushes his lips to yours in an attempt to fuse with you wholly, his teeth clinking against your own as his tongue slips over your lip. you know he tastes more than just you.

he tugs you desperately to him, gathering your limbs in his and pushing you down onto the rotting wood flooring a handful of feet away from the mess and the man and the absence of morality. perhaps a futile attempt at distancing himself from it all.

his naked body slides atop yours and he moans into your neck, salty tears still coating his cheeks as he paws at your chest. “i’m sorry,” he whimpers, “i.. i’m scared.. i’m scared, and i’m gross, and i’m tired..”

and then he starts to rub his crotch against yours. his length already swelling with arousal as he tries his very best to ignore the prickly feeling of disgust that almost always fills his body after he’s eaten. it’s weird and he knows it, but sometimes sex helps him forget.. you help him forget.

you slide a hand down between your bodies and wrap your fingers around his cock, starting to pump it wetly. his hips immediately jerk down and he bites over a soft part of your neck. just enough to leave a mark, not enough to taste you properly, almost enough to trigger his instincts. it’s wrong to eat a fellow eater, he knows that. he would never. the both of you settle for lapping up each other’s sweat and come and spit on cool nights when being close to one another is the only thing that makes sense.

art’s touch follows, his low whine muffled in your body as he drags his palm down your stomach and then against your aching parts. he rubs quick and sloppy circles over your swollen bud, pinching it softly afterwards to roll between his digits. your back shoots up into an arch at the feeling, your spine peeling up from the splintering floor. he’s panting now into your shoulder, his length already throbbing. precum pearls at his tip, webs between your fingers.

“aah,” he squirms on top of you, “please don’t stop.. don’t stop—touch me—touch me, please, i can’t—“

you know he’s trying not to let it, but his sadness is still oozing out of him like thick molasses. it’s a wonder he doesn’t drown in it and take you down with him. sometimes, he asks you to remind him that he’s still good. it’s obvious that if you don’t reassure him, he’ll fall apart.. and putting him back together is no easy feat. he gets quiet, reclusive. he gets a bit lost.

you stroke him faster, gasping as he brings you to the brink. his touch drags up and rubs the spot just under your bead of nerves, and you can feel his muscles begin to tighten above you. the sound of the crickets outside and the rustling of the tall, overgrown grass is drowned out by your guys’ heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your bodies.

“can i have you forever like this?”

his words are desperate. they gnaw at your ribs and snap at your veins. he’s begging for you to keep him and home him, scared that one day you’ll look at him and forget why the hunger brought you together.

you nod into his frame, nip the shell of his ear, and use your free arm to keep him close. the orgasm bristling in your gut like a stoked flame is all that you can focus on now. it’s hot and grotesque, something that reminds you of the first time you ever truly ate. it almost makes you feel sick, and yet it almost makes you feel more alive. this is what art does to you.

he holds you and distracts you and consoles you with pleasure beyond anything else you’ve ever felt. and then it all bursts—

your thighs squeeze around his waist, your walls pulsating with every wave of release that starts to flood out of you. you’re relentlessly rubbed through it; he prolongs it with the frantic motions of his touch and the way he grinds his pelvis against your own. drool pools in his mouth and he has to swallow it down before he can manage a strangled cry that mixes with yours. his climax is overwhelming.

“i’m cumming,” you whimper, tipping your head back, only to feel his other open palm meet it before it hits the ground.

“me too.. cumming so hard, so much, aangh..!”

the two of you shake like there are separate earthquakes held inside you, the tremors beginning to sync up as you both work each other to the very ends of your frayed ropes. his milky fluid covers your hips and abdomen in the color of fresh cream, and then he’s hiccuping as your moving thumb runs a spike of oversensitivity down to his toes.

“nn—oh, ’m done, it’s too much now.. just let me take care of you.. please..”

you let your hand slip off, coated in art all over, and you can’t help but yelp softly as he continues to swipe the pads of his fingers over your clit. a second climax rips through you before you can even draw in a proper breath. the only thing you can see is white-hot sparks dancing around your vision. he plays with you until you’re boneless, aside from the occasional jerk of your hips.

“i’ve got you,” he groans, kissing your warm cheek.

and then he says something that doesn’t surprise you.

“i love you.”

all breathy and beautiful. something so sincere that you have no doubt about it’s legitimacy. it’ll be you two until the rest of the world rots away into nothing. as long as there is a desire to eat, there is a need to love each other.

you don’t know a more beautiful, crushing truth than him. it’s all him.

your lungs are burning and your body is spent, but he has you.

oh, he has you.

“i love you too.”

[clovdgyu]

#rafayel x m!reader #smut #rafayel, my baby i love you

#breeding kink, creampie, blood play, serial killer rafayel, bondage, blindfolds, overstimulation, dubcon, mentions of blood, serial killer rafayel (cause why not?), tonguefucking, spitroasting, choking, belly bulge, lying rafayel, marking, mentions of rape, mentions of fag and faggot use of derogatory words #babysitting a house? should be easy, but it all turned into the worst case scenario when you found yourself cornered by the masked serial killer

house-sitting will be easy, they said. it will be fun, they said. but this wasn't even fun to begin with. sure, it seems like an easy job to do but it was boring as hell so you decided to invite some friends...except they were all busy. finding yourself in a 'lonely' predicament, you grabbed the remote and decided to maybe watch some tv, instead.

"this just in, a masked serial killer is on the loose, knocking doors on random people's houses before killing them. the masked killer escaped from prison and the cops are tracking the guy currently, wanting to 'catch the murderer as soon as possible," the broadcaster said as she looked sternly at the camera, indirectly telling the viewers to be careful.

you let out a stifled laugh and pointed at the tv as if judging it. "who would be so fucking stupid to open their doors to a random stranger?" you stated and switched channels, deciding to watch some documentary to keep yourself entertained. getting hungry, you decided that you needed some pizza to fill your stomach.

the documentary you just watched was boring you out to hell, it was just talking about nature and how it was wonderful. you never even dared to go out and explore so why--

*knock knock*

your eyes turned to look at the door then back at your growling, smiling to yourself. "well, that was fast," you thought to yourself as you grabbed your wallet and headed towards the door with a small skip. you hummed a small tune as you looked through your wallet for the exact amount (and a tip for being so fast) so the pizza delivery guy didn't have to bother giving you change.

another knock was heard before you shouted a 'coming'. you stopped right at the door and held onto the doorknob, hearing your own tummy rumble. without hesitation, you opened the door while you were still rummaging through your wallet and sighed, seeping air through your gritted teeth, realizing you can't give the man a tip. "ah, jeez. i'm sorry, man but it seems i'm a little short on money..."

your voice trailed off as you looked up from your wallet and saw an unfamiliar man standing in front of you. you tilted your head and scratched your neck. the man was wearing an orange jumpsuit...and what seemed like a mask? "what the hell? who are...?"

this just in, a masked serial killer is on the loose, knocking doors on random people's houses before killing them. as you looked at the man in front of you, all the blood in your body was drained out of you, hands trembling as you 'subtly' grabbed the door knob and tried to close the door...but you were already doomed. "fuck! help me! oh my god, please!" you screamed.

your voice echoed throughout the whole house as you ran towards your kitchen to grab a knife for self defense. you looked back, pointing the knife in front of you as you took in large breaths. "shit, i should've thought of that news before opening the door."

you took cautious steps as you gulped, not wanting to alert the serial killer who was inside your house. you made a run to your bedroom and locked yourself there, deciding to call 911. but when you were just about, a knife was pointed towards your neck. is this really how i am going to die? "p-please don't kill me. i'll do anything, please! i won't even tell anyone. i-i will help you escape."

"alright. you're in for a ride, bitch."

----------

"mmph!" a muffle grunt originated from your lips as the masked man drove his dick deeper into your throat, his purple tousled hair hiding his perfectly irresistible eyes as he looked down at your state, tear-filled eyes and red cheeks, saliva dripping down from your lips as you deepthroated the man.

he groaned, akin to a pleasurable one as he gripped onto your (h/c) locks, biting his lip as he thrusted into your mouth. at first, it was slow thrusts but gradually increased in speed. "you're not gonna making me fucking cum with a sloppy blowjob, bitch."

you looked up at the male and glared at him, your mouth fully stuffed with his cock. a deep chuckle was heard from the male before he thrusted his entire length inside your mouth, making your eyes twitch as you held onto his thighs.

the other male threw his head back as he buried your nose into his trimmed pubes then looked down at you, he could see how much you were struggling but he could care less. this was for his own benefit anyway, not yours. "goddamn, you took it like a champ, huh?"

he removed his cock from your mouth and stares as you coughed out, holding onto your chest as you glared at the other male. "i told you to take it easy, cunt! i'm no expert in sucking dicks."

the male tilted his head and scoffed. "really? you strike me as one though. little sissy boy who loves to get his ass filled with semen, loves to swallow a man's cum. you probably climax as they finish inside your ass, don't you?" he teased as slapped your cheek with his saliva-coated dick.

"i'm not fucking gay! get that inside your fucking brain," you stated, his brows, now, furrowed before he lifts you up and looks dead straight into your eyes, scaring you. "wh-what?"

he smirked. "you're forgetting who is actually capable of killing who here, aren't you? you're getting so damn feisty over a joke," he stated before pulling out a razor blade from his vest then traced a curved line on your cheek,making you squirm.

seeing the crimson red liquid drip out of your cheek, he let out a manical chuckle before lapping on your blood. "you're so fucking tasty, so delicious for me. you're making me so fucking hard again, bitch. strip yourself, get on the bed, and on your knees."

although hesitant, you did as he instructed and gulped. "wh-what are you planning to do? are you really gonna kill me?" you asked him, but you received no response from the other male except the sound of his footsteps drawing nearer.

you waited for what was gonna happen next, only to be surprised when you felt something wet lick on your hole. "ah! what the hell are you doing! get away from there!" you shouted, looking back at him before you suddenly felt his tongue delve deep inside you. "oh my god! stop—ah—it! you motherfucker! ugh, mmh."

despite your protests, it was clear as day that you were getting turned on just by judging the raging erection you donned as the man ate you out like a five-star course meal. "mm, fuck. so tasty," he mumbled to himself before plunging his tongue deeper into your hole.

"ng—ah~! w-wait! stop, oh my—fuck!" you cursed out, burying your head down on the pillow to muffle the sinful sounds that exited your mouth, indirectly shoving your ass onto the purple-haired male's face who just chuckled deeply while you gripped onto the sheets beneath you tightly, knuckles turning white.

you didn't know exactly why, but his tongue in your ass was making you feel so good. it was indescribable, the feeling of his wet, slimy tongue sliding in you and fucking your ass made you feel so incredible. "such a delectable ass," he muttered as took a hold of your cheeks and buried his face further into your ass to get his tongue more access.

why did it feel like his tongue was so long? it was fucking you so deep that you could feel your climax approaching. no, wait, you weren't gonna get off solely on someone eating you out, were you? you weren't even gay to begin with...but how was it that you were feeling ecstatic just by him fucking his tongue into your ass.

eyes rolled back and toes curled, you tried to hold back your moans by stifling your mouth using the pillow underneath you. the male behind you didn't mind though, he was so busy eating out your ass that he could care less about you hiding your moans.

and as if it wasn't enough, he tapped a finger on your hole making you flinch as you looked behind you with a confused state. "what the hell are you gonna do, bastard?" you asked him as he stopped eating you out and stared into your eyes then smirked before he inserted it inside you while his tongue was inside you.

a grunt left your lips as you reached back and tried to push his head away from you. "oh god. stop, you fucking bastard! get--ah--away from me, cunt! oh god, oh fuck! i-it feels so fucking weird," you cursed out as you gripped onto his purple locks and buried your face down on your pillow to stifle your moans. "y-you have to stop, b-bastard!" you whined out, akin to a moan.

the other male just enjoyed how you tried to hide your pleasured sounds as he tonguefucked and fingered your ass all at the same time. he licked a stripe onto your ass before delving his tongue back inside your ass, making you moan as you went putty in his hold. fuck, this is the best ass i've ever eaten.

you could feel that the other male was looking for a certain spot inside you as he fingered your ass. "oh my god! g-get your finger out of my ass, you prick! listen to me you fucking--AH!" you let out a pitched moan as the other male pressed onto a certain spot inside your ass that made you feel good. "what the fuck was that? that felt so weir--no, don't! shit, fuck, stop pressing onto it you goddamn killer! stop, fuckfuckfuck, i'm cumming!"

with a particular loud moan you threw your head back and spurts of cum emitted from your cock as you quivered on your bed, eyes rolled to the back of your head as you gripped onto your sheets. "hngh, ah! fuuuck~" you moaned out, still quivering as you came onto your sheets.

the other male smirked before he removed his tongue and finger out of you, making you clench on nothing as you huffed out. thinking he was already done, you tried to close your eyes but the other male had other plans as he pulled your hair and lifted your face to face him. "don't faint on me, slut. i still haven't cum yet."

your tear-filled eyes just looked at him, all strength inside you lost before you looked away at him. you tried to push him away but now that you got a closer look of his face, he just looked so ethereal. how is a handsome male like him a well-known serial killer when he could've used it for a good use?

but that didn't tether your reason as you went back to pushing him away. "aw, do you like this kind of kinky shit? d'ya like it when there's a little bit of force put into action? want me to rape your fucking ass until it takes the shape of my cock? huh, bitch?"

"n-no, get away from me, f-fag!" you shouted, the other male smiling maniacally before he neared his lips onto your ears.

he chuckled deeply, "you know what's coming next, right? i'm gonna fuck your little, tight ass and make it mine for the taking, gonna mark my territory. c'mon, say 'rafayel, i want you to pound my ass and to use your cock to make a mess out of me'. say it, say it!" he demanded, eyes growing bigger to intimidate you.

he's named rafayel, huh? you thought and you shook your head as you tried to push him away, but you stopped when a knife was suddenly pointed towards your neck. "i thought you weren't gonna k-kill me? wh-where's the deal, bitch? didn't you have fun already?"

rafayel threw his head back to laugh quite boisterously before pressing the knife deeper into your neck. "fun? i barely had my own 'fun' since you're being a pressy bitch! i've noticed how you've been annoying me quite a lot so maybe killing you--"

"wait, wait! o-okay, i'll say it," you told him, tears dripping from your eyes once again as you closed your eyes hard in contemplation, sniffing before opening your eyes again and looked into his eyes. "i want you to pound my ass and to use your cock to make a mess out of me."

"ah tut tut, you forgot my name, slut. you can't be forgetting that, that's the most important part. i want you to say that again, but this time while presenting yourself to me, spread your ass cheeks and show me that slutty hole," he told you. with your life on the line you nodded.

you watched as rafayel moved away from you to watch you, but he must've guessed that you escaping slipped from his mind since the moment he removed his hold on you, you made a run towards the door. unfortunately for you, the purple-haired male was fast enough to catch you, trapping you in his arms with your left cheek pressed against the hard wood. "where d'ya think you're going, bitch?"

"please, please. just let me go. i-i don't want this, i'll do anything but this," you pleaded, tears dripping from your eyes as you clasped your hands together. the nervousness and fear in your veins was enough to make you a sobbing mess, hiccuping word after word.

rafayel raised a brow before he chuckled deeply then smirked, scoffing. "i think you're prepped enough, doll. now hold still," he said, heeding no attention to your pleas. confused, you gulped and continued to sob quietly. the male behind you took a hold of your arms and held them tightly behind your back.

you were about to protest and ask what he was doing, but was shocked when the man suddenly tapped his erect cock on your hole. "you fucking bastard! get that thing away from my ass, that won't ever fit inside me! let me go, please," you pleaded yet again as more tears left your eyes.

"i was able to make you cum, now this should be mutual if you want to call this a good deal. and the only way to make this a good deal is for you to make me cum, and i can only cum if you let me fuck this tight ass," he stated, using his free hand to slap your ass before squeezing it.

knowing there was no way out, you calmed yourself down and looked at him in your peripheral view. "at least wear a condom, bastard," you stated through gritted teeth but only received an 'i did' before he aligned the tip of his cock onto your entrance.

he snickered, "i won't make any promises, but what i do know is that i'll probably be fucking this tight ass until the sun rises," he stated before he eased himself into you, his nose scrunching at how incredibly tight you were. "shit, doll. you're gonna snap my dick off with how tight you are. relax, it'll feel good that way."

an open-mouthed gasp exited from your mouth as you scratched your arm using your nails. "agh! i-it hurts! get it out of me, prick!" you shouted at him but only received a lick to your neck. unknowingly, you let out a breathy moan as you tried to relax your body. "r-rafayel, pull it out."

and as if a switch has been turned on inside the mentioned male's body, he thrusted his whole length inside you, managing to hit your prostate dead-on. you both moaned in unison at how incredibly good the two of you felt. although it was a painful stretch, you couldn't deny the fact that his dick made you feel good. "calling out my name like that, slut. my weakness," he said.

the hand that was holding your arms together was gone before his muscular arms was inserted under your pits, he then hooked his arms over your shoulders and pushed himself even deeper inside you, making you see stars. the loud moan that exited your lips wasn't left unnoticed by the other male. "mhm, what's this? is my cock making you feel so good, bitch?"

you looked at him through your lidded eyes, breathing deeply as your body felt like jelly because of his cock. "f-fuck you. i'm n-not feeling good 'cause of your dick, cunt!" you shouted at him, but seeing you resist your own pleasure and how you kept up that facade turned him on even more. now all he wants was to see you fucked dumb until you can't think of anything but his huge burly cock.

"haha, fuck! you're gonna be the death of me, doll," he whispered to your ear before he began to slowly fuck your hole. "i may be cruel, but at least i know how to start a good fuck. slow and steady to get them used to it, the reason those prison bitches moan my name every night."

his words fell on deaf ears as you gulped, trying to keep your mind in the right state of mind. you couldn't lie but admit that this gentle motion was making you feel good, that it got your stomach in a twist. you could feel your climax coming back again. "gh..! mmh, stop that. you're always hitting me there."

rafayel raised brow before he stopped then continued, rubbing his cock on a certain part inside of your ass. the way his heavy cock pressed onto your prostate made you moan as you writhed against his arms, your hands now on his biceps.. "quit denying it, cunt. i know i'm making you feel so good."

"no way! agh, stop! s-stop, oh fu--shit! stop, i'm gonna fucking cum, noo!" you shouted as you threw your head back. when you did, rafayel turned your head to look at him then planted his lips onto yours. that action alone made you cum yet again as you scratched the purple-haired male's biceps with a moan, muffled by his lips against yours.

the other male removed his lips from your as he used his right hand to force you to look at him. "see? i've already made you cum twice, and untouched at that. why are you still denying the fact that i really am making you feel so good?" he stated, looking straight into your eyes. "you're literally like a bitch in heat."

hearing no words from you, he continued to fuck your ass languidly with same speed. you whined, "ra...st.."

the male smirked, before nearing his ears towards your lips to hear you even more clearly. "what is it, whore? i can't hear you because of how loud i'm fucking your ass."

"rafayel, faster. please, i can't hold this anymore," you pleaded to him, now fully succumbing to the pleasure as you stared right at him through your half-lidded eyes. the taller male huffed before he pulled his cock out until it was only the tip before slamming it back inside your hole, making you scream in pleasure.

rafayel took that as an opportunity to initiate a kiss, plunging his long tongue inside your mouth, exploring your wet cavern. you closed your eyes, moans swallowed by the other male's who continued to thrust his hips at a normal pace. he pulled your face closer towards him as he fucks you hard.

he loved the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs, bouncing hard that it jiggles. the other male removed his lips from yours before he pulled his cock out of you then carried you towards your bed, making you gasp. with a grunt, you landed on the soft mattress before rafayel got on top of you, caging you in between his arms, looking down at you.

"you're so fucking delicious, i probably won't be able to stop," he stated as he grabbed his cock and lined it with your hole. he grabbed your legs by the pit and placed it on his shoulders, practically bending you in two as he leaned towards you. "we won't stop until i've had my own fill."

you nodded at him, about to say something when he suddenly plunged his whole cock inside you again. you accidentally bit your tongue as you gripped your sheets, shaking out of pleasure as you came on both your stomachs. "c-cumming~! oh my god. i'm cumming again."

a crazed chuckle exited rafayel's lips before he attacked your neck with hickeys. he began to thrust so deep inside you that even when you just came, overstimulating you. "damn, no one can really beat sluts who cum easily. such a huge turn-on," he muttered before he increased his pace and fucked you deeply.

your hands made its way towards the other male's broad back as you scratched them out of pleasure, making the male groan as he buried his face to your neck, pressing kisses and placing hickeys. "w-wait, not too fast. i just came," you stated, albeit weakly as you moved your hands towards his hair, tilting your neck to give him more access.

he paid no mind to whatever you just said and focused only on his own pleasure. "goddamit, such a tight little fucking ass. you're gonna make me bust a huge load, bitch. d'ya want that? want me to bust a load inside of you? want me to fill you up with my seeds?" he stated as he removed his face from your neck to look at you.

"wh-what? but you said you wore a condom, you bastard!" you shouted and began to push him off of you, trying to push him away as you gritted your teeth in anger. "pull out, motherfucker! don't you fucking dare cum inside me!"

he only snickered as he continued to fuck your ass, now even faster as he chased his own high. you writhed in pleasure as the strength that was once in you vanished, now gripping onto the sheets as you threw your head back in pleasure. "what? you scared i'll get you pregnant, whore? i mean, i could try. i'm gonna cum inside your ass until you get pregnant with my babies."

you whined beneath him, wanting to complain but the pleasure was overwhelming you and was clouding your sense of reason. your mind was now solely focused on his cock that was driving deeper inside you, hitting your prostate with every thrust.

rafayel then pulled back, now kneeling as he brushed his hair back, giving you a perfect view of his well-built physique. "look at that? i can see my cock inside you," he pointed out as he pressed on the obvious bulge on your stomach which made you whine as you gripped the sheets tighter. "guess making you pregnant wouldn't be so much of a problem now, huh? when i'm already buried so deep inside you."

all he received was a mewl from you before he continued to thrust his hips into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own high, nose scrunched up in concentration as he held your waist tightly, too tight that it might bruise the day after.

"w-wait..too fast...! slow down, ah~" you managed to utter out in between your breathy moans but he paid you no mind as he focused on getting himself off. "this is—ah—weird, this feels weird! oh—ah, fuck! rafayel, i'm about to cum! w-wait, ngh!" you stated, reaching towards the other male's v-line to try and get him to slow down but all he did was use both his hands to hold onto your wrists, oulling you closer to him with each thrust.

rafayel grunted as he threw his head back, fucking you even deeper and faster, so inhuman that you couldn't help but moan partocularly loud. "that's right, bitch. let the whole neighbohood know who's making you feel so good," he said before holding both your wrists in one hand while he used the other one to press on your neck, choking you.

gargled gasps and moans left your lips as you looked at the other male who was biting his lip, a smirk etched on his face as he pressed harder. you threw your head back, tongue rolled out of your lips as you let yourself succumb to the pleasure. "you're such—ah—a goddamn masochist, arencha? getting off on me choking you, hm?"

you shook your head but it was already obvious that your kind was muddled with the overwhelming pleasure you were receiving from how deep he plowed your ass with his thick cock. "sho..shoo goodd," you muttered out. rafayel removed his hands from your neck before he held onto your waist once again, using you like a fleshlight as he fucked himself deeper.

he grunted, "good fucking shit! i'm about to cum too, slut. i'm gonna fucking cum inside you. want me to? beg for it, beg for it, you whore!" rafayel shouted as his thrust grew even faster, your body practically bouncing as he did.

"c-cum! i want your cum inside me, rafayel! please make me pregnant with your babies!" you shouted out as you held onto his forceps. no more words were exchanged as the other male chased his own, breathy moans leaving his lips as he did. "fuck, i'm cumming!"

with a loud moan, your toes curled in pleasure, eyes rolled back as you came. but it was so unusual, as if you peed yourself. wait, you squirted? how was that possible? rafayel didn't know the explanation but the sight alone and how you clenched on his cock tightly was enough to release his load inside your hole. "cumming, i'm cumming inside your, bitch. fuckfuckfuck!"

spurts of cum was released inside you and you could feel how warm it was. you loved the feeling of his warm cum inside you, how his load was too much that some spilled out of your ass. you were just about to close your eyes when rafayel tapped your cheeks lightly. "huh?"

"don't think that it's over after just one round, slut. we're far from being done."

the next day, rafayel woke up to an empty bed. "ah hir, that was the best fuck i've eve had in a while," he muttered to himself as he got up from the bed to get his things. it was already 4 in the morning when he decided to rest. maybe it was the best decision to not have killed you, but where were you?

finally back in his jumpsuit, he exited the door and was surprised when a gun was pointed to him. "get down, hands up! we finally have you now, prisoner 0306," the cop in front of him shouted, several other cops filling in the whole area.

rafayel's blue-pink eyes roamed to look for you, finally spotting you in a corner with your head down, a phone in hand. the male scoffed as he complied to the cops, swearing to himself that he will be back. one cop grabbed a handcuff and used it to bind his hands together, rafayel chuckling deeply as he looked at you with those same maniacal eyes. "don't think this is over yet, slut. when i get back, you're fucking dead meat."

a female cop, who was beside you, noticed how you trembled in fear. she smiled at you assuringly and patted your back. "don't worry, honey. he won't ever escape anymore. you'll be fine. now we'll be on our way."

you nodded, sighing once you heard your front door click, indicating that they were finally gone. it was a whole night of torture (pleasure) but he was finally gone and you don't have to suffer anymore.

you slowly moved towards the couch and opened the tv to watch something to ease your nerves, but what showed you made you even more tense. "breaking news, the police car that had the infamous fugitive, prisoner 0305, seemed to have been hijacked. the cops inside have been injured and—"

the tv's voice was cut off when you heard the door burst open, making you tear up as you looked back slowly. and as you expected, there he was, blood painted his whole face as he looked at you with crazed eyes. he entered your abode and locked it, making you gulp as you slowly retreated. "p-please don't hurt me."

"going through all that trouble? i suppose i can commend you for that but it really hurt me, sweetie," he stated, before lunging towards you, grabbing the chloroform-filled hanky inside his pocket and placed it on your nose. you struggled against him but the chemical made you feel weak and numb as you closed your eyes, fainting. "now, you'll be with me forever, bitch."

he carried you bridal style before using the taxi he got (he killed the driver first, obviously) and placed you on the passenger seat. he entered the driver's seat and locked the doors before driving off to an isolated part in town.

[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

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