#?? he can walk around in a bathrobe and look like this ????

[seagullcharmer]

i keep trying to figure out how to draw jade's ether lines and then remember he typically wears long sleeves so it doesn't matter

[malavera]

Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!

summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking

taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉

The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.

But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.

Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.

But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.

Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,

“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”

Fun right?

And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.

“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.

Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.

Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”

“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.

It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.

Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.

But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.

As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.

"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.

"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.

Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.

But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.

You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.

Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.

Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”

Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.

In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.

Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.

Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.

Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.

Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.

He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.

But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.

The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.

Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.

Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.

After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.

As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.

Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.

You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.

The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.

“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.

You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.

You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.

Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.

“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.

Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.

“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.

“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”

With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.

You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.

“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"

Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"

You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."

Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.

You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.

You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.

"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."

Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.

Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.

You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.

"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.

"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.

"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.

"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.

Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.

You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.

"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! if you love my writing feel free to check my other works here

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[crookedteethed]

HOW i slept with your father | r.c.

Pairing: (older)Bestfriend's Dad Rafe! x Fem!reader

Summary: In which you tell your best friend how you accidentally slept with her father...oops.

Warnings: 18+ Semi-smut (protected p in v) (smut showed through flashback), age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Rafe is in his early forties), cursing, ocs, unrealistic reactions?, hints at Rafe being a fuckboy, I also can't tell if Rafe preyed on reader (you decide for yourself)

A/N: This story is really just reader telling her best friend about her night with Rafe, lmk if you want an actual smutty fic with bestfriend dad Rafe (heart emoticon)

Word count: 1.6k

Part Two

"Maribella, I had sex with your Father."

There, you said it. Your guilty conscience has been cleared. Your mind has been restored, and you can stop thinking about how much of a terrible friend you are because you're really not. You told the truth.

It's like that old stupid proverb, something about the truth setting you free or you setting the truth free, something like that.

There had been a moment of silence. A moment in which Maribella had slowly turned around from her lowboy vanity, half of her face the color of rose red from the blush powder she'd been frantically beating on her cheeks--you two were going out tonight. 

In that moment of silence, you glanced at the ticking clock up on Maribella's wall. It was 8:50 pm, and the boys-- the ones you and Maribella met on the beach that evening, were supposed to pick you both up in thirty minutes. 

"Gross." Maribella mumbles, returning to her vanity mirror and continuing to powder her cheeks. "You aren't going to be my new stepmother now, are you?" She says. 

You looked at the framed photo on Marbella's vanity--the photo of a smallish Maribella with chubby cheeks and missing baby teeth sandwiched between a very young Mr. Cameron and Maribella's Late mother (She wasn't dead, just not in Maribella's life after the divorce). 

You think to yourself how much of a resemblance your friend shares with her father--the same cerulean-colored eyes and dusky blond hair--you remember thinking this that night in which you fucked Mr. Cameron. 

You remember having to close your eyes shut while his girthy length pile drove into you during missionary, but Rafe had insisted on keeping your eyes open, or he wouldn't have let you cum that time. "Eyes on me, baby." he said, lightly tapping your cheek.

"No, not if you don't want me to." you said.

Maribella hums.

"To make it even, you can sleep with my father." you suggested, which cause Maribella to scrunch up her face in her backwards reflection.

"Your father's gross and old." She says. "and besides, isn't he still with that women?"

"My mother? Yes."

You watch from your spot on Maribella's bed as she gets up from her vanity and enters her walk-in closet.

"At least I get the appeal with my father." She shouts from the other room.

Minutes later, Maribella emerges from her closet, no longer in her silk bathrobe but in a simple white slip dress. 

"How do I look?" she asks you.

"Cute." you tell her.

She hums again, being satisfied with your response. Then, Maribella goes back to her vanity to continue doing her makeup.

"So, tell me." She says. "Tell me how'd you fucked my dad."

You shrug. "It just happened one time." and many other times afterward.

"Y'know." Maribella turns around excitedly. "Out of all the women my dad has slept with, you're the first one I ever gotten to talk to about it, so what was he like?"

Now it was your turn to scrunch up your face in disgust. "Maribella, this is gross. I'm not going to tell you how your dad fucks in bed."

"No fair." she whines. "I tell you about all the guys I've slept with."

You raise your eyebrow, to be fair she had a point.

"Let's just pretend my dad isn't my dad or Mr. Cameron; he's just Rafe, some stupid boy you fucked; now tell me everything."

Rafe was just some stupid guy you had fucked, but he wasn't a boy; he was all man--which is what had you enamored by him--it was either that or he was the first guy actually to tend to the needs of being wanted that had you so enamored by him.

 Unlike other guys you had been with, Rafe was attentive and considerate, making sure to meet your needs and desires. That's what made him stand out and had you so enamored.

This is why you kept coming back.

It was the night of Maribella's 21st birthday party. In your retellings of the story, you failed to mention how Rafe had kept staring at you that night. Every time you encountered each other, his eyes would first wander to your lips and then linger on your breast--which was practically spilling out the top of your corset. And each time you labeled him "Mr. Cameron," he would insist on you calling him "Rafe" because you were no longer a child. 

And it was liberating that Rafe did not see you as a child anymore, now seeing you for who you are: an adult woman. 

You also failed to mention when you spotted Rafe and his then-date, some black-haired women equally his age, arguing on the upstairs deck of Tanny Hill.

You didn't tell Maribella that you overheard Rafe's date yell at him: "Don't call me the next time you're horny, call Mrs. Young Pussy instead." Before storming out.

You kept in how Rafe had called you Beautiful that night, you didn't keep in how much that made you blush, after Maribella had said "Gross."

You exaggerated how much you had drunk that night to make it seem like a blackout drunk story—was it 10 shots? 20? You've forgotten, you told Maribella.

You told Maribella how after you and Rafe carried a shit-fazed Maribella to her bedroom, Rafe told her you didn't have to go home as the rest of the guests did; you could stay.

"You're always welcomed to stay" His exact words.  

You also left out that moment in which you and Rafe shared in the kitchen sharing a bottle of wine, in which you confronted him about his date leaving mad, and in his exact words:

"Women my age are just so uptight."

And though you hadn't quite understood what he meant, you nodded anyway.

He then says: "I'm sure you can understand that, but in reverse, with men your age."

"Men my age are stupid and don't know what they want." you responded.

"That's a shame." Rafe had told you. "Because I know what I want."

And you knew it wasn't the weed you smoked earlier or the few sips of red wine you were having that altered your perception to make you think Rafe was getting closer to you; Rafe was getting closer to you. 

By the end of the conversation, Rafe was no longer on the opposite side of the kitchen island; he was now standing beside you, the skin of his elbow touching yours. 

Your breathing had become uneven as Rafe's gaze remained steadfastly locked with yours, but you deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, for this was your best friend's father.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to think of a way to break the silence. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look into the intense blue of Rafe's eyes.

You didn't tell Maribella when you told Rafe that you weren't uptight, which was a quip to his response about knowing what he wants. And then he kissed you.     

The kiss took both of you by surprise, but it was undeniable that there was a spark between you. As your lips met, time seemed to stand still, and in that moment, you knew that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"And then we had sex." you concluded to Maribella.

Sex would be an understatement, you fucked.

Rafe had placed pecks on every inch of your body as he carried you into his bedroom, a room that was always off-limits when you and Maribella used to play with each other growing up. 

You were too enamored by Rafe's bergamot scent and how he kept calling you beautiful with each peck to your flesh to examine his room and hypothesize why this room of all rooms was once off limits. 

You were too overwhelmed when you felt his large muscular hands tear your clothes off your body to notice the picture of Maribella sitting on Rafe's bed side table.

You were too overcome with lust and craving when Rafe requested that you retrieve a condom from his nightstand, where you intentionally dislodged the photograph of Maribella.

Out of sight out of mine.

As Rafe carefully rolled the condom down his reddening shaft, you feigned an air of eager anticipation, so much so that you almost missed when Rafe remarked:

"You have no idea how long I've been longing for this moment."

Right then, without a warning, Rafe plunged himself deep inside of you like no man has ever done before. 

Your eyes widened, and your mouth formed the shape of an 'o' as you felt his thick cock split your cunt open, kiss your cervix, and sheath deep inside your belly. 

You counted the number of times Rafe said your pussy was tight; it was a number of 10.

At this point, Maribella no longer sat at her vanity and was now sitting beside you on her bed. 

"Oh, lame." She says. "So it was just a drunken mistake, a one-night stand kind of thing?"

You hummed. This reminds you that you should cut things off with Rafe since Maribella knows now. 

Right then in the moment Maribella's phone dings.

"The boys are here." She says. "You ready?"

And as you and Maribella walked down the spiral staircase of Tanny Hill, your friend told you:

"Now that I think of it, I'm not that pissed that you slept with my dad; as I said, I get it: he's rich, and he's good-looking for his age; what other qualities do you need in a man?"

In which you hummed again.

"Now if this was a recurring thing, that's a whole other story--Oh! hi Daddy."

As you and Maribelle descended to the base of the stairs, you were greeted by Rafe.

Rafe looked at you first before greeting his daughter.

You made an effort to maintain eye contact with him, despite his patronizing gaze, resisting the temptation to steal glances at him in his form-fitting shirt that accentuated his muscular physique.

You focused on maintaining a calm and composed demeanor, refusing to let his condescension affect you. Instead, you redirected your attention to the conversation at hand.

"Where are you girls headed?" He asks, addressing no one in particular.

"We're going out," Maribella says, sensing the tension and tugging your wrist towards the door.

"Don't wait up for me; we'll be out all night," Maribella said, Rafe's eyes never leaving yours as you and Maribella exited the door.

The boys you'd met earlier—Steven and Conrad, you think their names were—were parked outside Tanny Hill, blasting some obnoxious music from their car speakers.

"Oh wait, I think I forgot something," you tell Maribella as you approach the car. 

You don't wait for Maribella's approval before jogging back inside her house, where her father awaited you behind the front door with a sly smirk on his lips.

"I knew you couldn't resist telling me a goodbye," he remarked, just as the two of you leaned in for a messy, passionate kiss.

Knowing you were pressed for time, you were the one to break the kiss. 

'Same time again tomorrow night?' he asks, his voice filled with a mix of hope and desire as he wipes away the remnants of your shared moment. 

"Same time." you reassured.

[w2sology]

i would love if you wrote a lil sum ab reader doing random couple trends on tiktok w bogg!!! luv ur writing always x

10/10, harry lewis.

summary: you try to do the 'rating my boyfriend throughout the day' trend with harry.

warnings: allusions to sex

notes: i love this trend but it makes me feel so single so i hate it.

you started off by recording you and harry when you two had just woken up, he was in the middle of one of his morning rants about the sizes of donuts and why they had to be agreeable to the price when you noticed the position you were in.

no matter how you and harry lay in bed, he always woke up slightly on top of you and eventually shifted until he lay fully on top of you. right then, his head was on your chest as his arms wrapped around you, one of his hands tracing random shapes on your waist, creeping underneath the night shirt you wore.

recording a small clip, you laughed at a comment harry made about being able to eat like a pig, before writing a caption on it.

4/10, forgets i'm smaller than him and uses me as his personal pillow in the mornings.

the next clip you recorded was after you had stepped out of the shower, towel and bathrobe on as you made your way to your vanity. preparing to start on your skincare and makeup for the day, you were interrupted by harry waltzing into the room with a cup of tea for you.

you decided not to bring up his allergy to knocking on doors before entering ("i've seen it all before, why do i have to knock?" he'd usually frown) but instead hold your hands to your heart as you awed aloud.

"you act like i don't usually do this, babe" he laughed at your reaction, kissing your lips as he set the mug down on the table.

"i mean you do, but still, it just warms my heart," you giggled that intoxicating giggle that harry loved so much, throwing your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his again.

10/10, brought me a morning tea 🥹🥹🥹

later on in the day, you lay on the couch with harry at your feet, your legs in his lap as he massaged your feet absentmindedly, considering his full attention was on the football match on the telly.

you should've known that when harry said he'd watch dubai bling with you, he's find a way to get out of it. and there he was, mumbling to himself as he watched chelsea fumble yet another attempt.

"fuck me, this is shit," he sighed, throwing his arms up and accidentally dropping them on your legs.

"hey," you frowned, moving your legs off of his lap. but before you could harry was grabbing them back to where they were.

"no, don't do that," he whispered softly, still watching the telly.

"harry," you groaned. "you said you'd watch tv with me, not this."

"i know, sweetheart, we can watch after it's finished, can't we?" he looked at you, fingers running up and down your slightly exposed leg.

"it's not the same though."

"you're right. what you want to watch is prerecorded and this is live," he smiled, quickly turning back to the tv and groaning aloud as a player received a yellow card.

pulling out your phone, you recorded a clip of harry with a frown on your face, stifling a laugh at how focused he looked.

2/10, chose football over me and also outsassed me.

later on in the day, harry wanted to get out for a bit of fresh air and he promised you ice cream from the new cafe that opened near you.

whilst you sported a hoodie of his over some leggings, harry stuck to the stereotype of the boyfriend that was never cold and wore a compression shirt paired with some nike shorts.

"i wish we had a dog to take on some of these walks with us," you sighed dramatically.

"don't push it, you know what happened to herb." harry shut you down quite quickly, reaching for your hand as you walked next to him.

you always found it adorable that no matter what setting you were in, harry would always find a way to make sure he was physically with you, mainly by holding your hand.

once you got your ice cream, harry walked ahead for you to open the door as you held the small tub. you knew what was coming, so you got out your phone to prepare to catch the moment on camera.

harry stayed ahead of you for a little longer, waiting for you to get your things together, scrolling on his phone as he did so. when he thought you were done, without looking back to check, he held his hand out for you to take, still walking ahead of you.

you couldn't help but squirm and awe on the inside at this seemingly nonchalant gesture as you took his hand, it was everything to you.

11/10, no explanation needed... just hand holding <333

back at home, harry was editing a video that he and the boys had filmed since it was his turn.

he had on his glasses and was sitting on top of the duvet of your bed, looking so... biteable. you couldn't help but want his attention.

when he put the laptop to the side for a bit you took this as your cue, rolling over from your side of the bed and straddling him, a leg on either side of his.

"you alright?" harry inquired, smiling at you with tired eyes. you nodded, a smile on your face as you inched closer and pressed kisses all over his face.

his hands gripped at your waist as you pressed your lips to his, groaning at contact a little. "y/n," he breathed out between kisses. "i have to finish... the video."

yet he made no attempt to detach himself from you.

pulling away, you looked at him with dopey eyes and a matching dopey smile.

"you're so pretty," you cooed, to which his cheeks warmed at.

"and you're not," he smirked, catching your lips with his before you could say something back. your hand tussled in his hair as you hummed into the kiss, never wanting it to end.

"okay wait, i really have to finish that video," harry sighed, pulling away with one last kiss to your lips. "i'm all yours after, i promise."

you nodded, sliding off of his body to cosy up next to him and watch as he edited some more, filming the last clip for your tiktok.

10/10, i'm so in love guys 😵‍💫

[dcxdpdabbles]

Dauntless Matchmaker Part 2

Danny knew that his strange new boss was rich. He figured that much out by the overly priced suit and the wad of cash, but when he followed him into an Uber, he never thought he would wind up at the Waynes.

Everyone knew who the Waynes were. Danny personally thought it was no exaggeration when people called Bruce Wayne the Prince of Gotham.

He thought it fit the lovable man far more than the title of White Knight. It wasn't that Bruce didn't do the most out of all the ultra-rich to help the city, but rather, it mirrored the Dark Knight too much.

Danny thinks Bruce Wayne and Batman were too different to be compared like that. At least Mr. Wayne is real.

"Welcome home, Master Damian." The butler said as soon as the two walked through the door. His intrigued eyes slowly glanced at Danny, causing the teenager to stand straighter. "And who might our guest be?"

"I believed he was here for Drake." The young boy- apparently named Damian, fibs. Danny is a little impressed that he can sound so uncaring about what is happening despite being the whole reason he is here.

Danny knows that his job is to fool the butler and act like he isn't very aware of Damian. He offers the man his best smile. "Yeah, I came to see Tom. "

The older gentleman raises a brow while Damian shoots him a look of utter venom. Danny fights the urge to cower underneath the boy's displeasure. That is one nasty scowl the boy had.

"I am afraid Master Tim, is currently unavailable in his room"

Aw, crude, he said the wrong name. "Um, I know he said he needed a few minutes to get ready, but I was allowed to go up to his room. I'm sorry, sir I'm a little nervous."

"I see," The other says carefully before sharing a look with Damian. There is a moment where the two just stare at each other, and after a few small hand signs- sign language, maybe?- the butler clears his throat.

"That's quite alright, young man. You may go to Master Tim's room. It's up the main stairway on the third level, fifth door on the right."

Danny practically ran to the stairs, throwing a quick "Thank you, sir!" as he scurried away from the Butler and his boss. The boy still looked greatly displeased with his performance.

He prays he gets better at it once he speaks with Tom-er Tim and gets their story straight. Curious, He glances around, taking in the tasteful night pictures of Gotham City and the scattered few statues.

His breath catches when he sees a large frame photo of a man lying on an old couch looking into the far distance, his smile curving with mischievous glee and the sunlight reflecting the blue of his eyes.

There is a background of an old library, but the sun streaming through the window drapes him with a glow that makes the other man seem otherworldly.

It feels like it should be a painting, but it is so clearly a photograph that Danny has half a mind to wonder if someone who looked like that could possibly be real.

"Wow." He breathes, stepping closer to the frame.

"Wow, yourself." A gruff voice suddenly says, making Danny jump. Whirling around, he finds a boy about his age leaning on the doorframe.

It takes Danny a moment to realize that he is the subject of the art he was just admiring. But while the teenager in the photo seemed like a visiting angel, draped gracefully put together the teenager before him is, in a slight word, a mess.

He was wearing an oversized, fluffy, red open bathrobe. He seemed to only bother to slip on some baggy sweatpants and one sock. His hair didn't seem to have been combed in days, and there were dreadful bags underneath his eyes.

Despite that, Danny felt his heart flutter slightly when he made eye contact with the other.

"Who are you?" The stranger asks, voice a soft mutter.

"Um...I'm looking for Tim?"

"You found him." There is a half smile, but it falls quickly as the boy's demeanor seems to grow sad. Welp, his boss did say he was recently heartbroken.

"Oh great! I was told by Damian to do this when I found you." He places his hand on the wall, knocking six times, pausing for a few seconds, then knocking four.

Tim's face flashes through emotions faster than Danny can understand before the other teens' eyes water. That's all the warning he gets just as Tim bursts into tears.

He has no idea what's happening, but Danny's protective core has him rushing forward to bring the sobbing boy into his arms. He fumbles for a few seconds, unsure if it's welcome, until Tim melts into him, sobbing softly into his chest.

"It's okay. Shh. Shhhh. It's alright, everything will be alright. Why don't we head to your room?"

"Okay," The other whimpers. Danny helps him to his room, trying his best to offer as much support as possible. He is just starting to wonder if he should offer to get him some water or something when Tim kicks the door close, and the tears are all gone.

"Alright, we managed to fool Alfred. He was watching from the stairway," Tim whispers, leaning in close to Danny's face. He gave the startled half-ghost a sneer. "Now, who are you, and why did Damian send you to be my fake boyfriend?"

"Wait, you guys have a code for fake dating? That's what that was?"

"That's not important. I want to know what your objective is."

Danny tells him everything that Damian has told him since finding him. It's only been a few hours since he was fired and since he was taken by Damian.

Tim took it all in without much emotion.

"So you're here as my pity date to get Alfred to leave me alone? And was the Demon Brat the one to hire you? A likely story."

"No, I swear everything I've said is true."

"Oh, and I bet Batman is going to come out of the closet, too," The other said, rolling his eyes.

Danny frowns. "Batman isn't real."

At once, Tim's entire body seemed to have frozen. He blinks slowly, almost as if he is delayed in the reaction. "What did you just say?"

"Batman isn't real," Danny repeats slower, suddenly afraid for Tim's mental health. Next thing he knows, Tim will say the tooth fairy is real.

"Yes, he is."

"No, that's what the government wants you to think so they can hunt him down."

Tim blicks even slower before a blush starts to climb along his cheekbones. He reaches up to play with the hair at the back of his neck. "If that's true, then what is Batman really?"

"A ghost," Danny says confidently and Tim's face grows even redder. It's....endearing.

"You're weird," Tim says, looking away. His gaze lands on a hanging mirror, seemingly taken aback by his reflection. "Oh, I haven't showered in a few days, have I? Do you mind?"

Danny shakes his head, smiling. "No, go ahead. "

Noehter notices the small boy who moves away from Tim's door. And if that boy happened to be pumping his fist into the air in celebration well, that's no one business but Damian's

[back2bluesidex]

Best Fucking Friends - JHS & PJM (18+)

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Pairing: Hoseok X fem!reader X Jimin

Theme: PWP, Smut, threesome (?) NSFW!!!

Wordcount: 2k+

Summary: Guess, your dumbass ex-boyfriend did the right thing for once by dumping you. Your best friends are more than happy to fuck you into oblivion.  

Warnings: Explicit sex, unprotected sex (it's a no no), throat fucking, tit play, oral (both party receiving), little bit of insecure reader, jimin is blonde (yeah, that's a warning). tell me if there's more.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: enjoy the flith.

It’s almost pathetic how you are standing at your best friends’ door, wearing a thin tshirt and a pair of sweatpants, hair disheveled, sticking to every direction because of the tantrum you threw earlier.

Two bottles of soju and a dozen beer cans dangling from your arms resting inside two black polyethene. Heavy indeed, but you can manage.

You jab at the doorbell again, way too impatient to get inside your comforting nest, in their comforting embrace, but you don’t know what’s taking them so long. 

After almost 3 minutes of keeping you outside, Jimin finally opens the door and his eyebrows shoot to reach his hairline. 

“Y/N? hey?” he speaks through his plump lips but you are way too angry and frustrated to give into his ethereal beauty. 

“What the fuck took you so long? It’s been a lifetime since I started ringing the bell!” you spat at him, shoving him aside as you welcome yourself inside their apartment. 

“Ah! We thought our neighbor was here again to complain about our overflowing trash.” Jimin follows you inside as he takes a look at the items you are placing one by one on their coffee table. 

“I thought you had a date with your dumbass boyfriend today?” Jimin places carefully and you ignore his question. 

“Where is Hobi?” grabbing a beer can, you jump on their plush couch. God! You love this couch more than your own. 

“Taking a shower but that’s not important! You just ignored my question. Is everything alright or not, Y/N?” Jimin’s expression turns serious as he comes and sits down beside you. You ignore him again, taking a big and loud gulp from the beer can. 

The bathroom door clicks open and your other best friend walks out… wearing only a bathrobe. 

Your eyes fall on Hoseok and you almost choke on the beer. 

The loose neck of the bathrobe hangs low on his sharp collarbones, water drips down from his wet jet black hair and drops on his chest, and gradually gets soaked in the fluffy material of the robe. 

You shamelessly check him out even when you know Jimin's basically sitting beside you and can see you thirsting over his roommate slash best friend. And if you are not wrong, you probably see Jimin smirking a bit. 

“Y/N?” Hobi exclaims as soon as he notices you sitting on the couch, “didn’t you have a date?” 

That’s it! You come to your best friends for some solace but all they have to talk about.. Is your date!

“Why the fuck do you guys have to talk about him? He dumped me! Do you guys hear what I am saying? He fucking dumped me!!” you scream at the top of your lungs. Your eyes turn blurry and before you close them you see Hoseok running to you. 

Within a moment, you find yourself being sandwiched between two warm bodies, one slightly wet and another way too soft. 

Before you know, you start crying, “that fucker said he doesn’t feel the same way for me anymore! He said he found someone else and thinks that she is the soulmate he was looking for! That nutjob!” 

Jimin rubs on your back saying, “it’s his loss, completely his loss.”

“I thought we could be something. I thought- he loves me! Fuck! I am a fool! Why would anyone fall for a cold, short-tempered, not-so-attractive 27 year old like me?” you shout again, voice already hoarse. 

“Stop talking nonsense.” Hoseok rolls you into a sharp rebuke, “since when you are so low on your confidence? Did you forget how many guys you had warped around your fingers back in our uni days? Nothing has changed since then. You are still very much attractive and you still have at least two guys all whipped for you.” 

Two guys? Wait! He isn’t referring to him and Jimin, is he?   

“Which two? Show me?” you reply, trying to sit straight on the couch. 

“Us” the hushed word comes out of Jimin’s lips. You whip your head to meet his eyes.

“What? What do you-” 

“You know what we mean, Y/N.” Hoseok says softly. You again turn your head to take the man in. your eyes bore into his darker ones and you realize your usual jolly Hobi is very much serious now. 

“Since when? And both of you? Wait! Don’t tell me you guys have fought over me or something?” Both of them break into laughter at this. 

“Not at all, darling. We aren’t highschool kids. We are grown up men and we know the pleasure of sharing.” Jimin speaks in a very sultry tone and that’s when you finally take a good look at the blonde man. 

Jimin has this gender-neutral charm that can rock anyone off their shoes. You will be lying if you say you are completely immune to those beautiful eyes, smooth blonde hair, perfect set of white teeth, that round juicy booty and especially those plump lips of his. Only you know how many times you imagined the taste of those pink muscles. 

However, that’s it. 

You didn’t think of taking your thoughts any further, especially when you have a big fat crush on your other best friend. 

You have always been on your knees for Hoseok since your university days. But you have always admitted the fact that he is way too good for you. So, you tkept your feelings bottled successfully. 

You might not be a giddy mess around him anymore but doesn't that mean you don’t feel weak for the man, especially when he is sitting right beside you, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and practically confessing that he has a crush on you too?

What the fuck? 

“Sharing? You guys wanna share me? h-how?” you shutter, being completely aware of what you are asking.

Hoseok looks at Jimin and gives him a knowing lopsided smile. 

“You wanna see how? Answer in yes or no.” Hoseok’s aura changes in a heartbeat and the sentence comes out less like a statement and more like an order. 

“Y-yes.” You shutter again.

“Good girl” Jimin whispers right behind your ear, “then you will do as we say, right?” 

“Yes” this time your voice comes out breathy. You already feel heat on your core even though the men haven’t even touched you yet. 

“You trust us, right?” Hoseok voices softly, as he tucks a stary strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah.” another lone word slips past your lips. 

“Let us take the charge then. And tell us to stop whenever you feel like. Okay?” Hoseok’s eyes flood with warmth and darkness at the same time and you don’t know how it is even possible. So you just nod in agreement. 

“Strip.” Jimin says firmly and your eyes go wide.

“W-what?” you ask for confirmation.

“You heard me.” He states. You have never seen Jimin this serious for the entire 8 years of knowing him. You take a look at Hoseok, who seems to be waiting for you to comply with Jimin’s order. 

So you do.

Standing up on your feet, you slip out of your tshirt first, then your pants, then your bra and lastly your underwear. Just when you are about to throw your underwear away, Jimin extends his hand towards you, clearly asking for the article. 

You place it on his palms, embarrassed of the tiny wet patch caused by your impromptu arousal. 

“Bunny, huh?” Jimin chuckles at the cartoon bunny printed on the front side of your panty. He caresses the material for a moment and then takes it to his nose and inhales sharply. You start leaking due to his actions. 

You are way too busy with Jimin that you don’t see Hoseok ravishing your naked form with his eyes. He is very impatient. Finally after 8 years he is about to get the chance to taste you but you are too busy to observe Jimin’s antics. So he tugs at your hand and gains your attention. 

“Lay down, angel, let me have a taste.” Hoseok’s voice dips down a few octaves lower causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

Jimin takes the hold of your upper body and leans it down on the backrest of the couch. Hoseok moves on his feet, sits down on his knees right between your legs. 

Parting your legs gently, he hums in satisfaction, “umm.. Wet already.” 

The way Hoseok eyes your cunt, makes you gush out more arousal. The slick drips down your core causing Hoseok’s mouth to water. 

On the other hand, Jimin starts placing small, wet kisses on your jawline. Even though his position is a bit awkward, that doesn’t seem to bother him. 

His kisses travel down to the south and reach to your cleavage. But before you could react to that you feel a wet muscle testing your slicked slit. You look down to find Hoseok staring straight at you while lapping up your juices rapidly from your cunt. 

Jimin has also started licking at your perked nipples, flicking and biting those to his heart’s content. 

Fuck! It’s too much. Having your tits and cunt eaten out at the same time? A pleasure you never thought you would experience, that too, by your very own best friends. 

Hoseok takes your clit into his mouth while stretching your wet heated hole with two of his fingers right when Jimin digs his fingers into one of your tit and bites your other nipple harshly. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck” you moan out a string of curses. Heads on the cloud, you feel euphoric. What in the world did you do in your past life to deserve this pleasure?

You start clenching around Hoseok’s fingers as he keeps on abusing your clit with his practiced tongue. He knows you are close.. You know it too.  

“Are you gonna cum, angel?” Hoseok whispers. His mouth and nose glistens with your arousal. You nod. 

A harsh slap lands on your wet tit. “Use your words, bunny.” Jimin commands. 

“Yes. yes gonna cum- ah! Fuck!” Hoseok cuts you off mid sentence by twisting his fingers and pressing down on your g-spot. 

And you cum unannounced, on Hoseok’s tongue. He sucks up every last bit of it.

“Look at her, hyung. She drenched you.” Jimin’s tone is sultry, lust drips from it. 

Hoseok chuckles darkly, “think of how much she would cum on our dicks, Jimin-ah!” 

You know they are teasing you and you would fight them usually but right now you are defenseless, in your post orgasm glory and you want them to keep going. 

“Fuck me please.” you murmur, pulling yourself out of your fucked up state, “fuck my cunt and mouth at the same time, please. Please!” you beg. 

They look at each other for a brief moment, coming to terms, Jimin says, “You sure you can take it?” 

“Yes! Yes I can.” your breath gets heavier with the anticipation of their cocks inside you one by one. 

You take one of both of their hands and place those on either of your tits. 

“Fuck me.. Please.” you beg, yet again. 

“Fuck, Y/N. you will be the end of us.” Hoseok bites his lips,as he squeezes your supple flesh, he continues, “On your fours, ass up, right now.”

You oblige. 

Jimin walks behind you and you know, he will be the one to fuck you first. Hoseok stands right in front of your face. He slips out of his bathrobe. His cock stands tall and proud. You start salivating at his sight. 

Talk about length and girth, he got it all. 

Craning your neck you take a look at Jimin. He, too, is naked now. And his cock is literally the most beautiful one you have ever seen. 

Hoseok places his hand on your chin, tilting your head back at him, he mutters, “are you ready, angel?”  

You reply saying yes. 

“Open both of your holes wide of us then.” he commands, you comply. 

Soon your throat and cunt fill with a pair of dicks belonging to you two hot best friends. And you can’t be happier. 

Guess, your dumbass ex-boyfriend did the right thing for once by dumping you. Your best friends are more than happy to fuck you into oblivion.   

[luna0713hunter]

If it’s okay, can I request “passionate kissing, pressed up against a wall” and “being caught kissing” with zoro?

Author's note : i answered three asks in one cause they were kinda similar!!hope you all enjoy it darlings!

"passionate kissing,pressed up against a wall"

"being caught kissing"

"neck kissing"

"first kiss"

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : kinda suggestive,nothing major!!!just heated kissing,just you guys being in love and Zoro finally making a move,reader is said to wear a dress

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

You visibly gape as you stare up at rows after rows of breathtaking dresses. Never,not even once in your whole life,had you seen so many gorgeous clothes all in one place.

And having a chance to try them on?!

You were living your dream!!!

So as soon as Nami was satisfied with her choice and left the room,you took her place;taking dress after dress with you behind the curtains to try them on.

But there was a small,tiny bit of a problem.

"you're going with that color?"

Zoro Roronoa who apparently,had nothing better to do except watching you try each dress on. And leaving unnecessary comments.

"why?"

"it doesnt go well with your skin color."

Just like that one.

You huff and stick your tongue at him.

"you dont get to give fashion advice when you're sitting there in a bathrobe!"

Zoro merely shrugs and goes back to drinking again.

You go back to try more dresses on,each one looking more stunning on your figure.

As you emerge from behind the screen,in a dress in your favorite color and feel awfully attractive, You spin around and look at yourself happily in the mirror while trying to fix your hair with your fingers. You're so busy trying to make your dress sit better around your curves,that you fail to notice someone moving behind you until you step back and bump into someone's chest.

Someone's steady,hard and toned chest.

You raise your eyes and look at the mirror and meet Zoro's,and let out a nervous chuckle.

"uh...am i in your way?"

"no," Zoro's face is awfully close to your ear as he talks;his voice making a shiver run down your spine, "I'm actually enjoying the view."

You gape again for the second time in the past hour,as your cheeks start to color and your skin heats.

Was Zoro actually flirting with you?!

"uh-ah,thanks?"

You watch as Zoro closes to you,until his chest is pressed flushed against your back and his hands rest on your hips. He smiles to you from the mirror and you hate that he looks so god damn stunning in those suits.

"Zoro?" You whisper when he leans down and presses his lips to your shoulder, then up to your neck

"you're driving me crazy with that dress."

And you let out an embarrassing squeak when he turns you around and pushes you up against the wall next to the mirror and rests one hand on your hip, as the other fists on the wall next to your head.

"sorry?!"

"are you though?"

Your eyes travel down to his lips,and unconsciously you wet your own. Not knowing how Zoro's eyes follow your every move with hungry eyes.

"and if I'm not?"

Zoro doesnt bother with answers;always a man of action than words,as he presses his lips firmly against yours.

You have no idea where this hunger is coming from,but you're not complaining. You return his feverish kiss with your own as you chase his lips whenever he pulls away;your arms wrapping around his shoulder to pull him closer. You feel like tonight,all your dreams might come true. Since you already achieved half of them.

Your very fucking first kiss with the man you had the biggest crush on since the moment you laid your eyes on him and became his crew mate happening just when you're in the most gorgeous dress in the whole world.

Zoro doesnt let you pull away,not even for a second. And apparently he's making it his life goal to kill you young right on the spot.

The two of you are so caught in your own world that you dont hear the door to the closet opening and someone walking in. At least not until you hear a loud gasp and a louder "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?"

You jump and pull away like he's burned you (he might as well with how hot your skin feels) and try hard to not scream when you see how Nami and Usopp are grinning at you two knowingly.

"guys!we were just-"

"i dont even wanna hear it," Nami stops you with a hand, "just came down here to tell you guys dinner is ready."

"and if you want a spare room, I'll ask Kaya to give you one!"

"not helping Usopp!"

You let out a loud groan and hide your face in your hands. Zoro rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around you so you could hide your face in his chest.

"ok,you two,get lost."

"yeah sure,lover boy."

And then they left,but not before Usopp letting out an embarrassing whistle and an unmanly giggle.

"so," when Zoro breaks the silence,you raise your head to meet his eyes, "do you wanna take Ussop up on that offer?"

And when you hit his chest and laugh, with your cheeks flushed but your heart full, you pull him toward the dinning room to finally eat.

But maybe...you could talk to Kaya in private later.

[keerysfreckles]

hiii!!!! lando and best friend reader and shes gotten into one of those sad days because shes thinking of how shes never dated anyone or had her first kiss or anything. and he offers to take her out on a date as friends and thats when he realizes hes in love with her (shes been in love with him this whole time). but they dont really say anything, but they just get increasingly more affectionate as best friends as the days go by. and everyone around them can see theyre so in love with each other - 🍒anon

loveless — LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, slight swearing

a/n: lando p5 in japan HE WAS SO CLOSE TO BEING ON PODIUM

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n loved her small apartment in monaco. she loved it so much in fact that she's convinced her best friend that she's fine staying in day after day.

however if you got to know y/n, you'd learn this is out of the ordinary for the girl. usually she'd be out partying with lando, or hanging around the other members of the f1 grid. not sulking in her bathrobe and pajamas for three days in a row.

on the fourth day she recieved multiple texts from her best friend, lando norris, asking if she wanted to go out for drinks with him and a couple of friends.

y/n groaned, after reading the messages more than once. she really didn't have the energy to go out. not since her almost date last week didn't go as planned.

she met a rather attractive uni student on tinder, and they talked for a few days to get to know each other. less than a week later they planned to have dinner at a nice monegasque restaurant.

long story short, said tinder date never showed up, and never texted y/n the next morning explaining himself.

before the 'date' y/n didn't really believe in love. so of course, this screwed up with her perception of it even more.

lando was informed about the date, and was happy for y/n. he knew her history of falling in love was bleak, and he just wanted to be happy for her. so seeing his best friend wrapped up in three colorful blankets in her messy bedroom put a damper in his mood.

"what did i tell you about laying in the dark?" lando's voice surprises y/n. she jumps, before pausing her netflix show on her laptop.

"lan? what are you doing here?" she sits up, her eyes adjusting to the light lando just turned on.

lando sits on the edge of the bed, moving the laptop away from y/n, causing her to sit up as well.

"well you never answered my texts about going out tonight, so i figured i'd come here. plus you gave me that apartment key years ago."

y/n sighs. she knows she doesn't have the energy to go out tonight. "do i have to?"

lando sends y/n a sympathetic look. "maybe it could get your mind off that douche who stood you up last week. he obviously missed out on getting to know a great girl."

y/n's heart warmed at lando's words. he always knew how to cheer her up after she fell down.

y/n lets out a groan and falls back onto her pillows, her blankets encasing her once again.

"what if i never fall in love?" y/n thinks out loud. "or never go on a proper date? or mever even have my first kiss?"

lando's eyebrows furrow, "you've never had your first kiss?"

y/n takes the opportunity to kick his thigh, "yes shitbird, you know this." she lets out a small chuckle as he groans from the attack.

lando recalls her words again, "wait you've never been on a date either?"

y/n shakes her head, "nope."

"so that's why you're so beat up about this one not working out. i get it now," lando stands and walks towards y/n's opened closet door.

y/n sits up again, "lando what are you doing? i told you i don't feel like going out tonight."

lando ignores her for a moment as he continues sifting through her closet. his eyes and hands stop on a light purple dress.

"you still have this?" he holds it at an angle so y/n can see from her bed.

she nods, "of course. i've never gotten rid of any birthday present from you."

lando silently takes it off the hanger and throws it on the bed, making y/n confused.

"you and i are going out tonight," lando says confidently. "i'm taking you on a proper date. i'll text pierre, charles and carlos that i'll go out with them some other time."

y/n stares at him dumbfounded. she can't believe lando is taking her out on a date.

"when you say a proper date, what exactly does that entail?" y/n wonders, now removing her blankets from her body.

lando starts looking through y/n's very impressive shoe collection. "a very nice drive to an expensive restaurant, possinly with a candle lit dinner. you and i enjoying the best monegasque food we can. and maybe end the date with a classic near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n's taken back by his words again. she can't believe what she's hearing.

lando places a pair of white heels beside the dress on the bed, and leans forward slightly. "i'll be waiting in your living room, okay?" and with that, he kisses her forehead. the motion's been done a million times, but this time however felt different for the both of them.

y/n stares at her now closed bedroom door, and chuckles in disbelief while picking up the dress. maybe this was the push she needed to get out there again. party with her friends, and maybe go on more dates.

so she did as lando told. she was quick to brush through her hair, and change into the dress and heels. she styled it with silver jewelry and made sure to grab her small handled clutch before leaving her room.

lando stands from the couch. "now i think you look much better in this, than being covered in blankets."

y/n blushes at his words.

"do you have an idea of where we're going?" she locks her apartment door behind her, before lando leads her down the stairs with his hand on her lower back.

—

lando was starstuck.

during the ride to the restaurant, all the way up until they got the bill. (of course being the gentleman he is, he paid.)

he could barely take his eyes off y/n. he saw them shimmer as she spoke about her new job starting this month. he noticed how excited she got when he parked outside her favorite fancier restaurant.

now he was holding her heels for her, after giving her his jacket once the midnight air hit her skin. they were walking along the streets of monaco, planning on doing a little wrap around the block to get back to lando's car.

as the duo was talking and walking, they're arms kept brushing against each others. y/n couldn't help but giggle almost everytime, thanks to the white wine slowly making it's way in her system from dinner.

lando thought it was the best sound in the world.

on the way back to y/n's apartment, lando contemplated resting his hand over her thigh. she sat towards him, angling her body, so in theory he easily could hold onto her leg. however he refrained, but his heartbeat sped up when he felt y/n grab his right hand. she played with his fingers, and ending up enclosing her hand in his. he hummed at the feeling.

"so, we've done almost everything on my list to get you to have a perfect date," lando speaks as the pair stops right in front of y/n's door.

"what are we missing?" y/n asks, forgetting what he had stated earlier in the evening.

lando smiles down at the girl, his pupils dilating. "in order for you to have a perfect date, we have to have a near-the-front-door kiss."

y/n instantly blushes. she's thought about kissing lando before, but never thought any of her daydreams would become a reality.

lando steps forward and places his unoccupied hand on her pink cheek. he runs his thumb over the skin, and notices her pupils becoming wider.

"so what do you say?" lando almost whispers, the rasp in his voice becoming evident.

y/n looks between his eyes, and can't come up with a complete sentence as her mind falls blank.

silently y/n stands on her tip toes and grabs lando's face between her hands. she brings him down to her to connect their lips.

his taste like chocolate, from the slice of cake he ordered for dessert. hers taste like sugar and cinnamon from the cocktail she had at the end of the night.

lando brings his other hand around to y/n's back. she can't help but smile against his lips at the feeling of his arm around her. in the hundreds of times she's pictured kissing her best friend, it never ended like this.

the two finally pulled away, both of their cheeks blushed and pupils wide.

they both let out a rather large breath, and in the span of three seconds, y/n's opening her apartment door with lando following right on her tail. before they can fully step inside, lando's lips meet hers again, and lando definitely plans on spending the night.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 | 𝐉.𝐖𝐘 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You started to think you were losing your mind. Where on earth is your underwear disappearing to? Your roommate wouldn't happen to know, right?

『Word count』 : 750

-> Genre: Smut. Roommate au.

Pairing: Bestfriend!Wooyoung x AFab!Reader

[Warnings] : Masturbation. Pantie fucking. Swearing. Pet names. Kisses. Light banter. Flirting.

Note: I'M BACCKKKKKKK!!! DID YALL MISS ME HEHE.

My darling @shinestarhwaa , the minute i saw your request, i was up all night thinking about it. I would have made this longer, but Idk why i didn't, honestly, haha. I hope you like it hehe.

Based on this request ♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Buy me a Ko-Fi ♡

This was the fifth pair in weeks that had gone missing. At first, you thought you might have been forgetting them at the laundromat in the basement of your apartment. But when you couldn’t find them there you started to believe only one thing. Standing in your silky robe with your hands on your hips, you head down the hall from the bathroom, going past your room towards your roommate. If anyone knew what might have happened it’ll be him. 

But little did you know, Wooyoung, your precious roommate was the one stealing them. It didn’t start like this at first. One time he did his laundry with your stuff and one of your pretty pink pairs of lacy panties got mixed up with his stuff. Tucked perfectly in his jeans. Out of sight. When he was putting his clothes away, he couldn’t help it, you were napping and he didn’t want to sneak into your room, fearing he’d wake you. 

So he did the natural thing. He was going to leave them on his counter and wait until you woke up. He was going to leave them on his counter…. He was going to wait. Wait for you to wake… How on earth can your panties be so soft? Are they silk? So warm, and they smell like your floral detergent. God, they're perfect. “Fuck…”

He was ashamed at first, rushing to pull his sweats down, awkwardly wrapping the garment around his aching cock. He had never came so hard in his life before feeling the sweet material around himself. It was messy, filthy. Sinful. He couldn’t help himself, as the days turned into weeks and one pair turned into five. He hid them under his bed, of course, not knowing what to do with the cum filled cloth. He couldn’t just put them in a wash, cause you do the washing nine out of ten. And he couldn’t possibly say all of these panties just happened to end up in his load. He was in too deep. So hiding them became the best option.

Then a knock at the door alerted him. He was right in the middle of pleasuring himself with your panties when you walked in and man the look on your face turned him pale. Pure shock was best to describe your features. Standing there in a bathrobe of all things, looking at him with utter disbelief. Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to hide away, and never return. Tucking his cock away in his sweats, his hand was tightly clutching the -your- panties. “I… I. uh. I can explain.”

“I was wondering where my panties went. What the fuck Youngie!?” You folded your arms across your chest, tapping your bare foot on the ground. “Do you have the rest of them??”

Wooyoung’s brain had successfully stopped working, just staring at you like a deer in headlights. In his mind, your friendship was over, but in yours, he needed to be punished. Sure it was weird but not the worst thing you’ve seen. And it probably doesn’t make it as bad since you have a huge crush on him. So right now, you wanted to play a game. Since he made you lose your mind, you wanted him to have just a taste. “Well? Why did you do it? I’ve been searching myself stupid for them.”

“Look, doll, I’m so sorry. It just happened and I couldn’t stop. I uh… god I’m a creep.” He was still seated in the middle of his bed, banging his head lightly on his headboard. You were silent for a moment, letting him sit in some guilt before you couldn’t hold back the smile. Starting to laugh. This caught Wooyoung’s attention so fast, letting him snap his neck in your direction.

“Oh lighten up Youngie.” You waltz over to him, leaning down so your face is inches away from his blushed one. “Just tell me so I don’t lose my mind over where they went.” he kissed his cheek before turning away and heading for the door.

Wooyoung didn’t move though, no, he sat with bulbous eyes watching you with a stopped heart. You gave him one more smile before saying. “Oh and next time you want to fuck your cock with something of mine. maybe try my pussy.”

And with that you left with a beaming smile, closing the door to leave Wooyoung with his short-circuited mind and aching hard cock.

—

Special Taglist: @wlv-asteria @isiloiale @imperfect0angel @sugarnspice630 @yeorisanaxox @maeleelee @uarmytess @mxnsxngie @shuporangporanglinossss @nopension @sanhwalvr @gypsythrift @hyukssunflower @dearinsaniiity

[puff0o0]

aaaaa!! König and pink reader 🩷🌟

☆ Hes so happy to be able to call you his own, you never fail to brighten his day with your smile or your style (holy shit that rhymed)

☆ If you wear makeup, he'll get you those hello kitty, hatsune miku, sailor moon or just star and heart themed ones!

☆ He bought you this strawberry themed blush, thinking you would like it, but the second you used the pallete the strawberries faded :(

☆ You still thanked him anyways (and eagerly begged him not to waste money on buying you another one..)

☆ He loves buying you lacey or frilly clothes! He also buys a lot of bows and pretty much any accessory you want

(you forced him to put you on a limit)

☆ If you're a civilian and you visit him, people around base- ESPECIALLY recruits- tend to be so surprised at how their cocky, stern, and intimidating colonel can turn so soft so fast

☆ König doesn't care how they see him with you, he's struck enough fear in them for them to know not to say a damn word about it

☆ His usual loud and intimidating voice when he orders people around is a little lowered so he isn't too loud around you

☆ Recruits love it when you visit because of this. They don't get yelled at as much and they don't have to worry about doing extra training if they mess up

☆ If you're a soldier yourself, people around base tend to be scared of you.

☆ So pink and bright, always nice and overall a sunshine, yet they saw you take out like 10 mean the other day and walk back like nothing happened??

☆ it doesn't help that when they look back at König to get his reaction all they see is a man in love

☆ If you're someone who adores plushies he gets you a lot of them. Don't look at one for too long in a store or else he'll buy it on spot.

☆ He's very, very observant

☆ He doesn't let any of his friends come over to his house. Why? Because you've completely pink-ified the house you two shared

(not that he minds but he won't ever admit that)

☆ You have so many pictures of him laying his head down on a plush, sound asleep because of how tired he was when he came home

(you made him some cookies and a nice cup of water)

☆ You also have so many pictures of him in a pink bathrobe. You begged for him to put it on just once (you never let him live it down)

[literaila]

house rules (roommate au)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else."

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, slight angst, mentions of tampons (terrifying), suggestive comments, absurdly long, alternate universe characters

a/n: to all of my frequent readers--i have never claimed to be sane :)

*

in the broad spectrum of things, opening the door in nothing but your bathrobe and a ridiculously bright orange clay mask is not the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. 

oh no, puking on your first ever date at seventeen definitely takes the cake. finding your seventh-grade friends bent over a table reading your diary--in which you wrote many explicit things about them, not to mention, yourself--might be even worse. riding your bike into the pond by your house in front of all of your--much older, much cooler--neighbors, even. picking up your coffee in your favorite cafe and spilling it, which was not only devastating but humiliating because you managed to spill your mocha on every other drink waiting there (effectively banning you from returning) still haunts your dreams. even walking down the street and trying to pretend like you didn't just trip over air in front of every single one of your peers still lingers in your mind, waiting for a moment of peace before it attacks.

you're used to the feeling of dread in your stomach and the nights spent thinking about all of these moments, like a scrapbook in your mind--just there to make your skin itch. 

but, it does get a little bit worse when you realize the man you've opened the door to is none other than a potential roommate; and when you remember that you forgot he was coming. 

or when you have to pull your robe tighter around your abdomen just to make sure that you don't give this man a show before you even shake his hand. 

"is this apartment 214?" he asks, looking right at you--and your legs, naturally--with a confused grin on his face, but grin nonetheless. 

so immediately you slam the door. 

you turn around, with wide eyes, face crackling from the movement, and check your phone frantically. yes, it is the 18th, and yes it is 11:32, which means he was supposed to be here over a half-an-hour ago. 

and also you've just slammed the door in his--satoru gojo, the only person who's even bothered to respond to your ad about an available room--face. 

oh, fuck. 

so you groan, refraining from knocking your head against the door just in case he can still hear, and open it again. a little bit less this time. 

"gojo?" you ask, voice rough and slightly irritated. 

"the one and only. i'm pretty sure this is the right apartment," he says, and you don't fail to notice his tone of voice as he continues, "but if it's not, then fate must've brought us together."

you narrow your eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice the specks of dust that ebb from your skin. "you're late." 

"and you're less than dressed." 

"i thought you stood me up." 

he snorts. "so you started an impromptu spa day? or was this supposed to be another perk of the apartment?" 

you glower, opening the door a bit more just so he can see the fury in your eyes. "i don't think someone who doesn't even text to cancel has any right to judge my self-care practices." 

"i didn't cancel. i'm here." 

"you're late." 

"so i've heard..." he drawls. 

you blink at him, and he blinks back--or at least, you're assuming. because he's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy outside. 

and he's aggressively taller than you. he might not even fit through the door. 

you don't look away, waiting for him to break. which he does because you're well-practiced in men of his standard. "so, are you going to let me in?" he asks. 

"are you going to apologize for being late?" 

"i'm sorry that i'm late," he says, immediately, with an air of fake sincerity. "i got stuck in traffic. i would've called, but my phone died." 

"really?" 

the smile reappears, as if from magic. "no, but did it make you want to let me in?" 

you glare even harder--which is tough, honestly--and begin to shut the door. until your plan is interrupted by a foot. "excuse you," you say, to this man, who you already hate. and his stupid chelsea boots.

"look, i'm sorry. i'm trying to ease the tension--because honestly i wasn't expecting to get an eyeful this early in the morning, and you seem uncomfortable--" 

you slam the door against his foot again. 

gojo doesn't even wince. "and also, you're, like, the only person with a room in the middle of october. and i... could really use a place to put my bed. so, can i look around, at least? i'll keep my eyes closed every time i'm facing your direction. i can even give you my rent money today if it works out."  

something in his voice already implies that it will. 

and, well. despite your very short robe and your very dry face mask, he is the only person who's even inquired about the room. and you desperately need a roommate; someone to clean up with, someone to make coffee for, someone to argue about toilet paper direction with, and, most importantly, someone who has money and can keep you from getting evicted from the only place you've lived since high school. 

so you sigh. think about moving back home and suffering at the will of your parents. 

it takes about three seconds to say, "will you wait out here while i get dressed?" 

an eyebrow peeks out from behind the sunglasses, as white as his hair. "how long?" 

"ten minutes. maybe twenty." 

"do you have a chair?" he asks and moves his foot from the door. 

and so you close it without answering and rush to your room to find something that's still clean. 

there's nothing that you'll actually wear, but satoru gojo doesn't deserve your fresh appearance anyway. he can have day-old wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt you got when you were twelve. 

as slow as humanly possible, you remove the face mask, trying to keep your hair out of the way, and think about putting on makeup--which you probably would have done, had you remembered he was even coming--but decide not to. 

in reality, it only takes about seven minutes for you to look mostly presentable and get rid of the mugs you left cluttered around the dining room table. 

but you wait an extra four, just to mess with him. 

and then, eleven minutes later, you open the door again to the man leaning against the wall, playing what looks like candy crush on his phone. 

you attempt a fake smile. 

"hey," he says, with that same grin, "you have clothes." 

you drop your face. "i will close this." 

he isn't phased, just pockets his phone and leans in to look behind you at the entryway. 

you roll your eyes, but open the door anyway, and usher him in. he rubs his feet against your welcome mat and toys with a keychain you have hanging from a coat rack, then looks to you, like he's waiting for a tour. which, you guess, he is.

"there's only two rooms, one bath. it's not very big, so if you need a lot of space..." 

"i can manage," he says, and follows you as you walk into the kitchen. "did you decorate?" 

"um... sort of." 

"sort of?" 

"i, uh, had a roommate before and he bought most of the decorations before i moved in. but i've added a few things. i'm not picky about aesthetics." 

gojo hums. "why'd he move out?" 

"we were together and he cheated on me," you say, flatly, as you have been for the past month and a half. "and then told me i couldn't use his netflix account anymore after i broke up with him." 

gojo merely blinks and gestures toward the wall behind you. "so you didn't buy that dancing frog thing?" 

you turn around, rolling your eyes. "no. i forgot that was there." 

"okay, good, 'cause that's hideous." 

you snort, but nod your head and walk down the hallway. gojo's footsteps follow you as you open the door to his potential bedroom. "it's the bigger of the two," you tell him, "but the bathroom is next to mine." 

"did you change rooms?" 

"what?" 

"when your ex moved out. why take the smaller one?" 

"oh," you rub a finger against the wall, rubbing dust off of it. "it was his room before we got together. and then we shared my current room. this was his man... den?" you try, shaking your head. "gaming room? slaughterhouse?" 

gojo snorts. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing," he says, airy like he's teasing you. "just curious."

you step back so he can walk around, check the carpets for stains, or look for drywall you could've hidden a body behind. but he doesn't, only watches you as you furrow your brows. 

"you're not going to look around?" 

"it looks like the pictures." 

"yeah, but what if there are, like, bugs in the carpet? blood on the walls?" 

"are there bugs in the carpet?" he asks. "blood on the walls?" 

"not that i know of..." 

"great, then it's perfect," he says, and steps out of the room again, whistling as he goes. 

this time, you follow him, like he's the one giving the tour. 

he pauses at the door a couple of feet down. "this your room?" 

"yes." 

"can i see?" 

you scowl. "no. what do you mean 'it's perfect?'"

"i mean, i'd like to live here. it's nice. besides the frog." 

you lean against the wall, trying to inspect him for any mechanical parts. is this a ploy? some joke? "you've barely been here five minutes." 

"twenty with all the time i waited outside..." 

"you can't just take one look and say 'yup, this is good.'" 

"can't you?" he asks, challenging. 

"no." 

gojo's grin seems to widen, impossibly. "well, i'm not picky." 

and somehow you doubt that. 

but you don't get the chance to tell him that, or anything else, because he leans against the wall, still smiling at you, and asks, "so, are we roommates now?" 

"you haven't even seen the lease. or heard about the house rules." 

"house rules?" he repeats, dubiously. like you're making this up (which you are). 

"yes." 

"such as?" 

"no..." you pause, 'cause this is a fickle argument. something about his stupid smile makes you want to argue with him. or maybe it's the hair. or the sunglasses. "murdering anyone in the apartment." 

he laughs, unexpectedly, and sighs. "well, i guess i'll take my murdering someplace else." 

"and... you can't leave any utensils in the sink." 

"okay." 

"and i'm not cleaning up any beard shavings, or sharing my tampons with you, or any people you have over." 

"these are very extensive," he says, unserious. "anything else?" 

"i..." your brows furrow. "no hogging the bathroom. hot water is fickle. and you have to recycle." 

"it might be challenging, but we'll figure it out." 

"these are not negotiable." 

he only continues to smile at you. 

eventually, after staring back with a frown that feels slightly permanent for more than a minute, you sigh again. at least you won't have to worry about moving out. 

"fine. you still want to live here?" 

"mmhmm." 

"okay," and you stick your hand out for him to shake like this is a business transaction. 

and it seems that you'll be seeing a lot more of that grin in the future. 

*

living with satoru gojo is not... well, it's not hard. he's a normal enough roommate. 

he pays his rent on time and doesn't touch the coffee you make in the morning most days--coughing when he does. he man spreads on the couch and watches movies way too loud and doesn't hang his bag up at the door, preferring to, instead, set it on the counter like a maniac. he whistles when he walks, and wears his stupid sunglasses 80% of the time, and grins at you when you're irritated, and, honestly, he's not really half bad. 

he doesn't leave any huge messes for you to clean up (mostly because he doesn't use the kitchen or the dining table ever). he doesn't invite people over that keep you up all night (because he's gone most nights). and, actually, he keeps the bathroom quite clean (even if he takes up well more than half of the shower space with his weird face creams and deep conditioning treatments). 

but satoru gojo is hard. 

it's not what he does, but rather who he is. with his infuriating good looks--taking up most of the fair share for the rest of the population--and his subtle charm, which, if you didn't know who he was, might actually work on you, and his morning voice and his messy hair and just the way he lives. 

like breathing is just what he's supposed to be doing. like he doesn't need to worry about a thing because nothing should matter if he decides he doesn't want it to. 

so easygoing and naturally intuitive and far too exhausting for you. 

because, as a fatal flaw of your own, you love to mess with him. somedays you'll hope he shows up just so you have someone to fight with. just so you'll be irritated instead of stressed, frustrated instead of exhausted. 

it's kind of addicting, in a way. and masochistic, but you've never claimed to be completely sane. 

and honestly, gojo's just asking for it. 

after a mere month of living with his aura around, you come to expect his cockiness. you live to take him down a notch.

so when he's up this early in the morning, whistling like it's his god-given right, you scowl at him just as he enters the room. 

"woah," he says, sliding on a bar stool in front of you. "starting early this morning?" 

"you're banned from talking to me until noon." 

"is this about the ice cream i ate? cause there was only a little left..." 

"no it's--" you pause, frowning at him. "you ate my ice cream?" 

he lays his entire torso on the counter, pathetically. "i was dying, okay? low blood sugar was going to kill me, and i couldn't see anything else but that ice cream and it wasn't even very good anyway, so, really, i was saving you from having to endure the rest of it." 

"you ate my ice cream?" you repeat. 

"i'll buy you more. a better kind. and then you'll understand that i was doing you a favor." 

"i might kill you." 

"i thought we banned homicide from the apartment." 

"i was going to eat that," you whine, shoving his hands away from trying to grab your mug. 

he smiles, too bright for so early in the morning. "yesterday you told me sweets weren't an appropriate breakfast." 

you scoff. "yeah, cause that's all you eat. you need a green smoothie or something in the morning just to keep your heart beating for the rest of the day."

"my heart beats very well, thank you. wanna feel?" 

you roll your eyes and sigh into your mug. "i'll be expecting three pints of ice cream as an apology later tonight." 

gojo has already moved on, typing away on his phone, probably to some groupies he manipulated into loving him. "i can't. it's flip night at laurent's tonight, and suguru has already threatened me into coming." 

"why did you say laurent's like i'm supposed to know what you mean?" 

"laurent's," he repeats, looking at you.

you blink. 

"the bar?" he questions, like you're crazy. 

"okay, sorry, i don't exclusively hang out at bars filled with frat boys." 

"it's very sophisticated,” he corrects, his frat boy nature very obvious. “i mean, i frequent there." 

you laugh. 

"clearly you've never been." 

"i'm still expecting ice cream." 

he sits back in his chair. "i have class all day." 

"like you've never skipped a class." 

"encouraging ditching?" he asks, mock appalled. "what kind of roommate are you?" 

"the kind that doesn't steal her roommate's food. just get one of your servants to pick it up.”

gojo waves a hand at you, and that statement, apparently. and then he types another thing into his phone—to said servants you assume—and grins again. his face must’ve missed the feeling. "how about i buy you a drink instead? you can come with me tonight. meet my friends. maybe make some of your own." 

"haha," you cross your arms. "if they're as bad as you, then i'm good." 

"you'd probably love them. they also like to torment me, even though i'm pretty and perfectly nice to them." 

"i seriously doubt that." 

his eyes--oh, yes, this early in the morning he skips the sunglasses--sparkle like gems. "i have to play wingman for suguru, but it probably won't take long. you can mingle. meet someone. i think you could use a way to relieve some of that stress." 

"oh, you mean the stress that you cause?" 

gojo grins and you realize that you've fallen into his trap. "i'm willing to help out whenever you like," he says, deviously, "you just haven't asked yet, sweetheart." 

"nor ever will," you grind out.

gojo hums and taps his fingers against the countertop. the two of you stare at each other, grin matching scowl, and eventually, he loses the contest. "so, can i plan to steal you away from eternal solitude at six?" he asks.

and just because he's right--in his weird, satoru gojo way--you nod. it might be nice to get out of the house; and meet people other than the lost freshman at work. and because you know that gojo will continue to bother you about it otherwise. he’s a very difficult person.

as if proving it, he grins all pleased with himself, so you add, "but you're buying all of my drinks." before he can get too ahead of himself. 

*

it's not nearly loud enough in this bar. as soon as you walk in, you're sure of it. 

because even with a band up on the stage, singing about loving someone or money or drugs, you can still hear gojo as he flirts with every single living thing in his twenty-foot vicinity. 

he's got his grin on, styled his hair all fancy, and his clothes are signature in the way that you've probably seen him wear the same thing fifty times. maybe in a row. 

but the people in this bar don't care. no, they flirt back like they already know who satoru gojo is. and maybe they do. 

you don't really care, but you do have to drag him along so he can show you where you're supposed to sit and tell you the names of his friends before you get drunk enough to forget. 

it takes three minutes of trailing after gojo like a lost puppy to remember that you hate going out. that you hate everything about your so-called roommate and you should've shoved his invitation down the drain along with him. 

as if gojo can hear this thought, he peeks over his shoulder, smirking at you. "enjoying the view?" he asks, and you try to trip him by stepping on his heel. 

unfortunately, he only swings around, walking backward through the crowd like it's going to part for him. 

oh, wait. it does. 

you frown at him. 

"what? you don't like the music?" he pouts because that would personally offend him, of course. 

"where are we going? i think we've passed that table four times already." 

"i have to say hi," he says like this is obvious. "it's rude to just walk into some place without greeting everyone." 

"do you own this bar?" 

"what? no." 

"then find your friends so we can sit down," you grumble, trying not to lose him in the sea of people. it's unlikely that you've ever seen a bar this packed. more like a club, honestly, but you wouldn't put it past gojo to lie. 

eventually, he does lead you to a table, announcing, with a flourish. "don't worry, everyone, i'm here," while he bows--because of course he does. "and," he adds, "i brought a stowaway." 

you peek around his shoulder to meet three people, all staring at him with the same unamused expression. one, suguru--from the many photo albums and 'trips down memory lane' gojo has bombarded you with--gives you a little wave. the other two just continue to stare at gojo. 

"everyone, this is y/n, my favorite roommate. y/n, that one is suguru," he says, pointing towards him, "which you already know. the short one is shoko, and the blonde one is--" 

"nanami," you cut in, "hey." 

gojo frowns, looking between the two of you. "you know each other?" 

"we have analytics together," you answer, sliding in to sit across them, next to gojo, naturally. "i usually cheat off of his notes." 

"she gets me coffee," nanami adds, like this information is imperative. 

gojo grins again. "why didn't you say anything nanamin?" 

"because i didn't realize." 

"who else could i have been talking about? do you know several pretty girls named y/n? you a player?" 

nanami has a very familiar frown on his face, and is about to say something when suguru seems to kick gojo under the table. "satoru, i told you to stop referring to other people as 'players.'"

gojo merely rolls his eyes. "can't fight the truth," he says.

you almost smile. almost. but your eyes drift over to shoko, who sighs. "how'd you get stuck with this one?" she asks, not harsh, but not quite soft. 

"he promised me alcohol." 

she nods knowingly. 

speaking of, you turn towards him. "you and i both know there's only one reason i'm here." 

gojo flicks your forehead, but stands up. "i'll be right back," he says, "don't miss me too much." 

and you all watch as he walks away, conveniently stopping at least four times to talk to several different people. 

you groan. "he's not coming back is he?" 

"he will," suguru says, not quite reassuringly. "probably. in an hour or so." 

you cover your eyes with your hands and listen as the three of them laugh at you. 

*

it probably is an hour or two later that you see gojo again. 

you'd fallen into smooth conversation with his friends, talking about classes, and dancing, and the fact that you all shared a common enemy. it was easy enough, talking to them, like ripples in a pond. but surely if gojo had stuck around, it would've been more of a tsunami. you could see the appeal--at least for someone like your roommate. they all seemed responsible enough. 

but shoko, after a twenty-second lull in conversation, decided she was better off drinking at home, and nanami quickly agreed. watching them, compared to gojo, disappear into the crowd was a different experience. 

you bite your cheek unnervingly, wondering if it made you a bad roommate to want to let gojo suffer here alone and walk home by himself. 

suguru pats you on the shoulder when he stands up a moment later, brushing his pants. "i'll go find satoru," he says, softly. you feel that same irritation when you realize that gojo had probably lied to you about coming here for suguru. it was almost infinitely more times likely that suguru had come here for him. "do you want me to tell him you went home?" 

"how likely is it that he'll go home with someone else and it won't matter if i wait for him anyway?" 

the dark-haired man considers this with a sly grin on his face. "if i tell him you left, he'll find someone to cling to. but if you're here he'll go home with you. probably drunk, though." 

you run a hand through your hair, waving him off. "it's fine. i'll wait, then. but tell him that the homicide clause doesn't apply to outside the apartment." 

suguru laughs, not questioning this, and walks away. 

you sit there, toying with a glass someone had left behind, watching the people around you dance like it really was a club. with absolutely no one watching. not even god, evidently.

as usual, gojo lied--even though you hadn't really believed him when he said this place was sophisticated. the clear air of stale beer and vomit is enough to prove that.

you almost laugh bitterly, but then a mop of white hair appears in the chair next to you, and his grin is wider, larger than you'd remembered. 

how long had that taken? 

"hello hello, roomie," he sings, leaning close to you. he moves his chair, shuffling across the floor so that he's near enough to touch. "i heard you were threatening me again." 

"you could hear that over the sighs of your fan club?" 

gojo giggles, like he's in on the joke. his breath falls on your face. "i like it when you tell me you're going to murder me, you know." 

"of course you do. how much did you drink?" 

"it's not the quantity," he whispers, "it's the quality." 

"your friends told me you could get drunk off of hand sanitizer." 

gojo leans back, his long legs knocking against yours. "are they spreading those rumors again?"

you kick his foot away from yours but don't say anything. his eyes seem somehow wider right now, even behind his dark shades. almost like you could see them. 

you blink, and gojo does it back. his lashes fluttering just enough to tell.

it almost makes you smile. laugh a little bit at his innocence--especially right now, when he's clearly not himself--some more unperturbed version of who he normally is (if that's even possible). he probably wouldn't even remember if you did laugh at him. but you refrain anyway. 

gojo gasps suddenly. "oh! let's go to the store. you want ice cream, right?" his elbow slides onto the table as he rests his chin on a hand. 

you kick his foot again. "i wanted a drink," you correct, "but apparently you got distracted." 

"'s not my fault," he almost slurs, sadly. 

"are you ready to go home?" 

"i'm ready to leave. so we can get your ice cream. want to share a spoon?" his grin is unabashed. you could tell him that he is a vile, disgusting creature right now and he would probably agree. 

you don't, for whatever reason. 

"i don't think anywhere's open, and i don't want to drag you around while you're this drunk." 

he taps your thigh with a finger. "hey. i'll have you know that i am a very proficient walker." 

"oh, really?" 

"learned when i was a kid and everything." 

"wow, gojo, i'm very impressed," you deadpan, and look around. "do you need to say goodbye to suguru?" 

he frowns. then points to himself. "gojo," he repeats, and into the crowd, "suguru." 

like he's an actual toddler.

you shake your head and stand up, still looking. "can you text him?" 

"i guess," he mumbles, getting out his phone and almost dropping it. he frowns like this is deeply upsetting. 

so you grab it from him. "what's your passcode?" 

"one one one one." you look at him with a brow raised. "cause i'm number one," he answers, pridefully. 

you scoff, but look through his texts anyway, and tell suguru that you're taking him home--and never ever coming out with him again--and then hand it back to gojo. 

he smiles at you. you roll your eyes. 

then he grabs your hand, and begins to pull. "c'mon before they find us," he says, and it doesn't make any sense. 

but were you really expecting it to? 

*

perhaps the aftermath of drunk gojo is even more entertaining than the actual thing. 

shoko hadn't been kidding when she said he was the worst drunk--and even worse when hungover. 

how do you know this? oh, because you woke up at one in the afternoon--perfectly respectable for a saturday--and as soon as you dared to even open your door gojo was already groaning about the noise. so you slam it a little as you leave. 

there's a grunt, like a dying cat, and two minutes later he is walking into the kitchen with slits for eyes and cotton for hair. you're not sure what he's wearing--some video game shirt--but it's wrinkled enough to match your roommate's appearance. disheveled and slightly peeved, he's almost glaring at you--like he's capable of such a thing.

you try not to laugh. 

"where's the bacon?" he asks, almost slipping off of the counter as he leans on it. his hands rubbing at his eyes. 

"sorry?" 

"wheres the bacon?" he repeats, his voice a different register this morning. "i need emergency bacon." 

"so make some. there's a pan and probably a package in the fridge." 

he whines, falling against the counter again. his natural habitat. "i can't make it, i'm dying. you really want your terminally ill roommate to cook for himself?" 

"i want my overdramatic roommate to act like an adult for a change." 

he blows a raspberry, and his face is hidden beneath the tile of your table. you can only see his hair, which looks surprisingly soft for his state. 

"did you lose some pigment in your hair?" 

gojo snaps up, immediately, gasping. he pulls a strand so he can look at it, blinking rapidly. his panic quickly fades, and he blows the strand out of his eyes. "it's just dirty." 

"from what?" 

"i forgot to buy new bedsheets," he grumbles, once again hiding his face. 

"your bedsheets are dying your hair?" you ask, with a raised brow. 

"they're dirty," he repeats, rolling his eyes as he sits up. "i need to go to the store." 

"um..." you look at him as he slumps against his own body, feeling greatly concerned for his survival abilities. "you buy new bedsheets?" you confirm, "instead of washing them?" 

he waves a hand, blowing you, and your clearly audaious sentence away. "bacon," he says, flatly. 

you roll your eyes. "pan," you point, "stove." 

gojo looks like he might start crying.

and it might be his state or the fact that you don't think you've ever seen him like this--in the month you've known him--all lost and confused and a little bit ruffled at the edges. gojo's snark is usually in its top form when you see him in the morning. 

so, just this once, you grab a pan, and turn on the burner. 

"i'll be expecting payment for my time," you say, as you grab the bacon from the fridge. 

and maybe you get your first real smile from your roommate. 

*

you're lying on the couch reading a book when he appears, swarming like a fly. 

"hello, roommate," he says, uncharacteristically pleasant, and then he sits on your legs. you try to kick him, but it proves futile because apparently he's a giant, so you wiggle your way out from under him and sit up, frowning. 

"don't you have a room?" you ask. 

"i could ask you the same thing," gojo tries to tickle your feet, but you move them away before he can. your frown turns into more of a glare. "what?" he asks, "we can't hang out?" 

"no." 

gojo pouts. "but we're roommates," he says as if it's an explanation. like being roommates binds your souls and forever intertwines the two of you. 

"we are roommates because i had an extra room and you had money. that doesn't seem like thrilling grounds for friendship." 

"well, how about the fact that i let you use my hair dryer the other day?" he lays down on the other side of the couch, smirking at you. "that's a friendly thing to do." 

"that's the polite thing to do. i'm trying to train you. speaking of which..." you point towards the floor, "down boy." 

he takes off his sunglasses, throwing them on the coffee table--which probably explains the broken mug pieces you found in the trash the other day--and lays back with his arms behind his head. his eyes are closed. "i can't be trained." 

"clearly." 

you sigh and relax in your corner of the couch, picking up your book again. his presence lurks like a nightmare, but, you figure, eventually, he'll get bored. 

you just can't entertain him. it's like the advice you'd give to a kid being bullied: they only care about your reaction... 

as if proving your point, after twenty-seven seconds of silence, he opens one eye, peeking at you. "whatcha reading?" 

"a book." 

he plucks it right out of your hands, inspecting the cover. how he got across the couch in 0.2 seconds, you don't know. 

"what is this?" he asks, snickering a little. "word porn?" 

you take it back. "it's called romance, gojo. not that i'd expect you to be familiar with anything of the sort." 

he smirks, laying back down. "i have references if you need proof." 

you shake your head, flipping him off, and continue to scan the words on your page without retaining any information. 

seriously, his presence is impending doom itself. 

"it's okay," he whispers, "you don't need to be embarrassed. everyone craves intimacy." 

"i crave my fist on your face." 

he snorts. "that's not very friendly." 

you sigh, dropping the book again so you can look at him and his obnoxious eyes. "look, i'm tired, it's been a long week, and if you don't leave me alone i'll probably lock you outside." 

"probably?" 

"it's that or throwing you out the window." 

gojo laughs once again, but mimes zipping his mouth shut. you roll your eyes and open your book again. your feet are entwined, but you don't mock this--if only because you're sure that gojo will start an argument about it.

the quiet lasts for two minutes and then he turns on the tv. 

you groan and he laughs at you.

*

you're getting used to having him around, at least. and in turn, his friends. because they seem to be a package deal. 

after that night at the bar, gojo--apparently--feels much more comfortable having them over. trying to bake cookies with shoko or interrupting what's supposed to be a study session between the four of them. 

at least, you think, watching this happen, that you're not the only person forced to endure him. 

but it's kind of... nice to see him act like a normal person, for once. to get teased by someone other than you and pout like a begrudged younger brother. the person who invites his friends over for game night (getting aggressively angry every time he loses) isn't satoru gojo, the man whom everyone is drawn to. he isn't some drunk guy charming everyone around him or a roommate that you just happened upon. 

he's just another college student, laughing along with people who aren't nearly as bad as him. 

and, naturally, you find yourself intertwined with these 'hang-outs' because the apartment is small, and you don't want to be left out--no, you choose not to think about how pathetic it is that satoru gojo has more friends than you do, so please don't bring it up. 

and it's on this night when you're not playing uno with the four of them, but rather, watching behind all of their backs and trying to mess with gojo as much as possible. 

you pretend to be idly cleaning in the kitchen, when really you're standing behind him, mouthing to suguru what color he has whenever he's about to win. 

"hmm," the sly-mouthed man says this time, "green." 

shoko puts down a seven, and gojo groans again. "seriously?" he asks, but begins drawing cards. 

you try--and fail--not to giggle behind him. to which, of course, he turns around with an obvious glare in his eyes. "what are you doing?" 

the sink isn't on, and there are no dishes to be seen in the kitchen. nonetheless, you point uselessly to the roll of paper towels on the counter. "cleaning." 

"you're cleaning air?" 

"sorry, i didn't realize i was banned from loitering in my own home." 

he turns back around, looking at suguru for a moment, then back at you. it's very hard to keep the smile off of your face, especially when nanami looks like he's about to break and shoko is pretending to rifle through her cards again. 

how many times have you done this to him? oh, just a mere eight. 

to be fair, it would've ended a long time ago if gojo wasn't such a sore loser. 

he looks back and forth once more. then he frowns. "what are you doing?" 

"do you want me to go hide in my room, gojo?" you ask, trying to scowl. "because i will. i was just trying to be hospitable--" 

"nanamin," he interrupts. "go." 

so another round of cards is placed, and this time suguru plays normally, keeping his face straight to not draw any suspicion. you lean against the wall, enjoying yourself. 

(don't tell anyone, but this is the most fun you've had in a while). 

and then, after a couple of rounds go by, you finally clear your throat. gojo turns to glare at you through his sunglasses and says "go stand behind suguru if you're going to watch. i don't trust you." 

you raise your brows but do as he says. 

and when shoko has to draw the next time, you smile and tap a couple of times on your thigh. 

suguru does his best impression of gojo's grin, and says, "draw four," to shoko. 

she smiles back. turns to gojo. "draw four," she repeats. 

and he stares at the two of them, then the cards stacked on top of each other, and then to you, right across him. "what are you doing? i know you're doing something." 

"satoru, she's just watching--" 

"no, she's smiling." he looks back to you, "you're smiling. you don't do that unless i'm in pain." 

"so you just assume that you're losing cause i'm... what? drawing your cards for you? shuffling the stack so only you get the bad hands?" you cock a brow at him, willing yourself not to look at anyone else at the table. it would only end in disaster. 

"i--" gojo runs a hand through his hair. then he sighs and begins drawing his eight cards. 

and several rounds later--with gojo losing once again--you've begun moving around the table like you're inspecting each player. gojo doesn't let you look at his cards though. 

and it takes a while before he notices anything. particularly after suguru wins for the third time in a row. 

he looks at everyone--brows pulled together, irritated eyes hiding behind his sunglasses, and his cheeks are flushed from how frustrated he is--and as soon as you start laughing at his face, everyone else does too. suguru throws his cards down and shakes his head. nanami shuffles the deck while trying to keep his laugh muffled--but it's there. and shoko is outwardly laughing at him, pointing at gojo and then at you. 

"are you guys stealing the cards?" he asks, almost disbelieving, his voice so childlike that you start laughing even harder. "look at the deck! it's half the size that it was." 

and then he's standing up and inspecting you, sticking his hands up your sleeves and finding dozens of cards hiding there, falling onto the floor. 

gojo gasps in outrage, but it doesn't even matter to you. 

everyone else is clutching their stomachs and gojo begins to pout. "you're all traitors," he's saying, and "how long have you been doing that?" and you almost can't breathe-- 

so yeah. you don't really mind these kinds of nights. and you don't complain about the messes gojo and his friends leave behind. 

*

you shouldn't have given suguru your number. this much is obvious. 

but, to be fair, you weren't exactly thinking when you were talking to him about a self-help book you'd picked up, and he was mentioning a podcast, and then he was taking your phone and putting himself in it--which, in itself, should not be dangerous--telling you that he'd send you a link and that you should let him know if you liked it, and that was that. 

and really, there shouldn't be any repercussions to this. suguru is your sort of friend, and sort of friends can text on occasion. 

except for the fact that he's also satoru gojo's friend. so when you wake up at ten--silently thanking yourself for taking a day off before a week of back-to-back classes and work--he's already texted you, and it's obvious that you failed somewhere in life. 

maybe when you accidentally invited a demon into your house and allowed him to stay. 

from suguru :p : 

hey satoru is supposed to be in class right now and he won't answer me 

can you please kick him awake? 

but maybe it wasn't a mistake. because at least you have a good excuse to give gojo a bruise. 

so you creep down the hall, reluctantly knocking on his door even though it ruins the element of surprise (you're not a monster) and listening as there's no response. 

gojo must be asleep. or dead. honestly, you might've killed him in your sleep--wouldn't be the first time. 

so you peek the door open, realizing now that you haven't been in his room since he moved in, and watch as a figure slithers under the covers almost before you notice. gojo is completely covered except for the foot he's left hanging off of the side of the bed. 

"get up," you tell him, looking around at the sparse decorations he's put up. there are books, candy wrappers, and socks all over the floor, but it's not the messiest room you've ever seen. which is slightly surprising, considering all that you know about gojo. 

he whines from under the cover, turning so you get a view of exposed skin on his back. "sleeping," he says as if you might believe him. 

so you creep over trash and textbooks and pull the blanket right off of him. 

gojo is already looking at you, pouting. his hair is in his eyes and his mouth is puffy--probably from kissing his pillow in his sleep. "what if i was naked under here?" he asks you, very seriously. "i don't let just anyone see that, you know?" 

"you're wearing the same silk pajamas you wear every night." 

he tries to pull the blanket away from you, his fingers peeling yours away. he huffs. "it's the principle. you don't just wake a man up from slumber." 

you snort. "did you travel a century in your sleep?" 

"yes, now go away." and then he falls back into the blankets, his words muffled. 

"you have class, your highness. i've been sent to fetch you." 

one eye appears from under the blanket. "how do you know my schedule?" 

"telepathy. now get up." 

"i can't," gojo fake coughs. "i'm sick." 

"suguru said you'd say that." 

he groans, turning over and muffling a few explicit words that sound like a curse upon his best friend. 

you poke his back. "did you sleep through your alarm?" 

he doesn't answer. his body has gone limp like you might not notice that he's there if he stays still for long enough. so you pull his hair, turning his head towards you. "you're not usually this whiny in the morning," you tell him. 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

you hum, pretending to consider it. "i think it's the hair. i find it pretentious." 

"i could sue you. discrimination is very serious. i've got a good lawyer, too."

"i'll sue back for mental damages." 

he laughs, and wiggles from your grasp. 

you sigh and finally sit down at the edge of his bed, observing the lollipops he's left lying on his bedside table. gojo's bones seem to crack as he sits up with you, moaning the whole way. 

you're silently observing him--with his slightly red eyes and heinous mouth. you're not used to seeing him like this in the morning; usually, he's chipper and annoying. when he walks into the kitchen in the morning you half expect him to start singing. 

but this gojo is tired. he rubs at his eyes. "did suguru text you?" 

"yup." 

"he's a terrible friend." 

you nudge him, almost like an agreement. "why aren't you in class?" 

"what's even the point of going? it's not like i get a reward."

"i think the reward is graduating, but you might have to fact-check that one." 

he nudges you back and then takes your hand. his fingertips are soft as they trace the tendons and veins he can see on your skin. his hands are softer than you'd have expected. his eyes are wary as they look towards the floor, his mouth twisting in displeasure. but he doesn't stop touching you, he does so idly that you almost don't notice. "i have an a in the class," he tells you, "and i already know most of the material so why would i go to every lecture?" 

maybe it's the way he says it; so sure and nonchalant, in his typical over-dramatic fashion. maybe it's just that he's never mentioned any of his classes to you, or the fact that he's taking any. maybe he's just crazy--that's the most likely option--but you're suddenly curious. 

"what class is it?" 

"theoretical physics." 

you whistle, shaking your head. "and you already know most of it?" 

gojo drops your hand and looks at you. his eyes are wide. maybe he's just realized that he's been talking to you this whole time. "when i was a kid my, uh, my dad had a bunch of textbooks in his office that i used to read through every time i got in trouble," he grins, "which was a lot." 

"i can imagine." 

"well, it turns out you can only read something so many times before it becomes ingrained in your brain." 

you pull at his bedsheet. "do you have a test today, or something?" 

"no, suguru just thinks i'm lazy." 

you laugh, because he is. gojo rolls his eyes at you so you don't say it. you're a little bit surprised, actually. you knew that gojo wasn't stupid (or at least, you might've known) but there's something about the proof of it. like you can't just read right through him. like maybe there's still more to learn about your roommate and maybe there always has been. 

or maybe you're just tired, and he's always had the strange ability to draw irrationality out of you. and also he's an idiot.

"i just..." he starts and his smile fades, but only a little bit. he keeps a layer on while he peels a layer off. "i mean, i like the class. math is cool. but i just don't feel like it today, you know?" 

and there's something about his voice as he says it. steady and true, as always, but softer. but compeltely honest. 

and you've heard him complain about a million things, like every time you and suguru talk about something he doesn't understand or when the door isn't unlocked when he gets home, or when you won't add his one shirt to your laundry. you've heard every whine and every groan come from his lips. 

but he's not complaining about this. just confiding. 

and there's such a drastic difference that it takes you a moment to respond. 

but you do eventually. "yeah, i know," you tell him and rest a hand on his thigh to squeeze. 

and the way that gojo looks at you after--like you might just be saying it to make him feel better--is perplexing. his eyes are blue and maybe you've just noticed this--just started to realize that you're actually sitting with him like a normal person. and that he actually looks grateful. 

you shake your head, willing yourself to look away, because maybe there is something sort of magnetic about your roommate. and it feels impossible to only have noticed this now. to realize how warm he is next to you, and how your muscles tense up when he shifts. gojo is looking at you, and it might be the first time.

so you stand up, flicking his chin. "i'll tell suguru that you're puking your guts up." 

"really?" 

"yup. but next time you sleep through a class i'm going to wake you up by pouring ice water on your face." 

he grins. "cruel." 

"and i'll record it." 

you step over candy wrappers and dirty socks as you leave his room, and as soon as the door is closed you sigh in relief. you're probably better off never opening that door again.

*

it's a ridiculously cold night when he shows up. 

you're sitting at the front desk in the library, pretending to study for a mid-term, and trying to smile at the fifth lost library card you've heard about tonight. you got this job at the beginning of the year, and it pays horribly. but at least you can sit around and study, most weekends it's quiet enough to take a nap, and no one tends to bother you when you're drooling all over the reception desk. 

most weekends, that is, because as soon as he walks in through the door--letting in air so brisk that it has the potential to kill you--it gets significantly louder. 

because satoru gojo is not affected by trivial things such as snow, or blizzards, or the fact that the library is supposed to close in less than ten minutes... 

still, you don't really notice him--a rare circumstance that you will question later that night--until he's right next to you, breathing in your ear. 

"slacking on the clock?" he asks, and just for a moment, you almost disembowel him with the pen you're holding in your hand. 

but then you grunt, used to this sort of intrusion from your roommate, and push his head away. "how did you find me?" you ask him, because, honestly, this job is just an escape from his neverending antics at your house (no, it doesn't matter that you got the job before you knew that such an annoying person could possibly exist). 

"i microchipped you in your sleep," gojo says, smoothly, sitting in the chair right next to yours, swiveling around. "i thought i told you about that?" 

you blatantly look at the clock and ignore him. "you know that the library closes in seven minutes?" 

"...and?" 

"so go torment someone else," you answer, standing up with a stack of fileable papers, "i'm busy until eight." 

"i'll help," gojo says, eager as always, and takes half of your stack. "where to?" 

it is from two months of experience that you know he will not leave you alone. even if you chew off his fingernails and keep them to make into necklaces, gojo will follow you around as long as you make it clear you don't want him to. 

so you walk towards the copying room, smiling at all of the sleep-deprived students you pass by and rolling your eyes when gojo does the same. 

"how did you even find the library?" 

gojo walks like he has absolutely no equilibrium; knocking into you every couple of steps, and then falling in the other direction. it must be a consequence of all of his strenuous leaning. 

so he bumps into you as he replies, "tracker," like it's obvious. 

you snort. "no, seriously. i didn't think you knew that libraries existed. aren't you allergic to reading?" 

"hey!" he tries to trip you. "i'll have you know that i am very studious. top of my class." 

"that's why you pay suguru to write your papers for you, right?" 

gojo makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "he doesn't write them," he grumbles. "well, not all of them." 

you snort and open a door for him to follow through.

"my study group meets here on wednesdays," gojo answers, finally. 

"you're a part of a study group?" 

"where do you think i go all of the time?" 

you briefly consider this, setting the papers down. "cemeteries to mourn all of the people you've annoyed to death, probably. or your girlfriend's house." you shrug.

gojo sets his stack on top of yours, diligently lining them up. "i don't do that every night," he drawls, rolling his eyes. and then he winks at you. "and i don't have a girlfriend. thanks for asking." 

you mess up his stack and turn away from him. "sorry, i meant girlfriends as in plural. girlfriends." 

"nope, again." 

gojo follows closely behind you as you begin to lock up all of the spare rooms, turning off lights and looking for any lost items. "commitment issues?" you ask, fake sympathy clouding your voice. 

"sweetheart, if you want me, then just say that. you don't need to pretend to worry about anyone else." his cockiness is infuriating, but you don't even bother to scold him for it. you turn towards him with sharp eyes.

"do i seem worried to you?" 

"no, but you're a bad actor," gojo hums, fingertips grazing along your skin as he inspects your face. "denial is serious. you might want to see a doctor." 

"you would know," you answer, glaring and pulling away from him. the two of you walk as people begin to trek out of the library, no longer held captive by the idea of studying. 

gojo is much too close, as usual, his sweater brushing against yours. 

"how'd you even know i was here?" you ask him, after a minute of silence. 

"please," he answers, grinning down at you. "i got a PI as soon as you gave me my key." 

you squint. "did you actually?" 

he laughs. "no. you told shoko, and shoko told me..." 

you nod, clearing the desk of your things, tossing your bag at gojo for him to carry. "so why are you here?" 

he clears his throat, unplugging the cord to your computer and wrapping it around his hand. "i was walking by, and i thought i'd see if you wanted to come with me for drinks after your shift."

"drinks?" you repeat, taking the cord from his hands. 

"flip night." 

you groan. "i am never participating in that again after what happened last time." 

"it wasn't that bad." 

"i had to drag you home and you almost threw up in my hair." 

gojo smiles. "consider yourself lucky." 

you push him out of the way and put your coat on. then you turn off the lights and push in all of the chairs, gojo not helping at all. "i didn't even get my drink," you remind him. 

"okay, so let me make it up to you."

and his voice is a bit different. still arrogant, naturally, still smiling and easy--but maybe he means it? maybe beneath his, frankly, soft exterior, he feels bad for getting drunk before you could? maybe he's not actually a complete monster? 

you laugh that thought away as soon as it comes.

you sigh. "are your friends going to be there?" 

"yes, our friends are. they suggested i invite you." 

you sigh--again, because the air is quite thin when gojo is around--and consider it. for just four seconds. but eventually, you shake your head. "i can't," you tell him, looping your arm around his so you can drag him out of the building. 

"why not?" 

"i'm tired, and i still need to study for a test on monday..." 

"do it in the morning." 

you give him a blank look. "i won't want to study if i'm hungover." 

"then don't study." 

you let go of his arm, shivering from the cold. gojo, of course, is not wearing a jacket, or even a little bit bothered by the air. "you're a terrible influence." 

he grins. "i get it from you." 

you shake your head, keeping the smile off of your face. "maybe some other time? when it's not freezing, and i don't have a big test?" 

gojo looks like he wants to argue with you some more--which he usually does--but eventually, his grin ebbs into something simple and he nods. "okay, but you have to come next time i ask." 

"no. what if i'm sick, or something?" you definitely would not put it past him to ask you as a method of torture. 

"that's what alcohol is for." he sticks out his hand, too big and too sly. 

but you relent, shaking with him, and rolling your eyes.

"okay, gojo. have fun. do not wake me up when you get home." 

and you turn to walk away, but his hand catches your wrist. "what are you doing?" he asks, brow furrowed. 

"...going home?" 

he lets go of you and flicks your forehead. "you're not walking back by yourself," he says, like it's a crime. "c'mon." 

and he falls into pace with you, even with his longer legs and fervent energy. 

"this is stupid--" you start to complain, but gojo reaches for the strap of your bag, sliding it off of your shoulder. he then slings it on his own, and pulls you in a bit closer by the hem of your jacket. 

he doesn't say anything, just shoves your hand in his pocket, and whistles as he walks you home. 

*

its a couple of weeks later when you're standing at the door again, trying not to open it more than necessary. 

but, really, how wide is too wide? will a half-opened door signal any longing? will he think that you want him back if you open it more than three inches to pass him his box of stuff that he'd left behind and take your key back? 

how do you navigate the trade-off of a frog statue that will probably haunt your dreams till the end of time? 

"key," you say, without any pleasantries, not bothering to even really look at him. 

even though he looks just the same, your ex. still the lying cheater you'd almost fallen in love with. 

is it wrong to miss his netflix password more than him? 

"thanks," he says, and you've probably been standing there with him for thirty seconds when a head appears on your shoulder. 

white hair gets in your eyes, and you try to push gojo away, but he's already intruded on this exchange and you know he's not going to leave. 

"go away," you tell him, not very softly. 

"hello," gojo holds his hand out over your shoulder, because, again, he is ridiculously tall. "i'm--" 

"key," you say again, swatting his hand away. 

your ex looks at your new roommate--with all of his charm and irritating sunglasses and perfectly shaped teeth--with obvious disdain. you want to push both of them out the door and live here by yourself forever, but unfortunately, living prices disagree. 

so you grab the key from his hand, give him a bland smile, and slam the door with gojo's fingers still in between. 

he pulls them back just in time, still almost on top of you, and smiles when you turn around with a scowl. "a friend of yours?" he asks, slyly. he's about as subtle as a third-grader.

"no." 

he messes with your hair idly, pretending to fix it. "i noticed an obvious absence where our dancing frog used to be." 

"i told you, that's not mine." 

"so you gave it away?" 

you cross your arms. he is far too close to you. "you told me it was hideous." 

"it was," he nods, vehemently, and you know his eyes are grinning at you behind those dark shades. "but now there's an empty spot on that shelf." 

"we can put your tongue there when i cut it out," you give him an innocent smile and walk past him to sit on the couch. your pocket burns with the key you put there, metal like an obvious stain on your skin. 

it's not that you care about him anymore, really. you don't, not even when you lay alone at night and think about him. it's more that... he doesn't think about you. he didn't, and he wouldn't have, even if you were still together. 

is it wrong to be wanted by someone whose opinion is worth about as much to you as a penny you could or could not pick up on the street? should you crave being cared about by someone as awful as him?

you want to throw his key in bleach. maybe take a dip yourself.

gojo follows you, throwing himself down on the couch, and brushing you as he does so. he is very used to this kind of proximity, and the annoyed look you give him. "so that was your ex?" 

"yes." 

there's a brief pause, and a nice person might leave it like that. might try to console you, tell you better off. but satoru gojo is not nice, and he probably never has been. "really?" he asks. then clicks his tongue. 

you interrupt whatever obnoxious statement is supposed to follow: "if you're about to say that there are a lot of more eligible bachelors, including yourself, then i'm going to say that you should probably make a zillow account." 

gojo pinches your thigh. "i would never say something like that." 

you look at him, just barely able to make out the shape of his eyes when he's this close. "you told me that last week when i was complaining about dating apps." 

"well, it was true then." 

you roll your eyes. 

"i wasn't going to say that anyway." 

you hum, relaxing into the hold his legs begin to have on yours. despite his abrupt and terrible personality, gojo is very warm. and he's already intruded into so much of your space--your home, your head--that it almost feels normal. 

with his thighs pushing against yours and his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck. 

you should slap him away, but you don't. 

the last person you cuddled with was the same man who gave you the greasy key in your pocket. 

you look at gojo with inquisitive eyes. "really? no bad pickup line? you were going to say something meaningful?" 

"would've blown your mind, but you interrupted..." he teases, and pulls on a strand of baby hair. 

"whatever will i do now?" 

his hand falls from your neck, and if you weren't as comfortable as you are currently, you might think about what he's doing. 

like the fact that you haven't even questioned this, or his following you around, or the fact that he knew you needed someone to pull you away from that door. 

you don't think about that, but maybe you should. 

still, his hand wraps around your shoulder, and you slump against him without question. 

"i was..." his voice is softer, calmer than you've maybe ever heard it. it should jolt you away from him. it should do anything but keep you planted on the couch right next to him. "i was just going to say that i'm glad he's an idiot." 

"getting turned on by my pain?" 

he laughs. "no, but, i mean, your pain my gain." 

you don't even notice it when he slips off his glasses, his fingers curling around your forearm. 

"where else would i find a roommate that threatens me with bodily harm?" he asks, right in your ear. 

it's true enough, you guess. and at least for a moment, you don't want to rip off his arms. 

and gojo mutters something that sounds like "stupid," but you aren't listening.

*

gojo has called in your agreement; that is the only reason you're sitting at the bar, watching him dance around with shoko--purposefully stepping on her toes--and sipping on some drink he ordered for you.

it's terribly sweet and reminds you of lotion but you drink it anyway. it's not like you bought it, and you're sure that gojo wont buy you anything else until finish it. plus it's giving you a light buzz, just enough to feel comfortable sitting there, and not like you want to run away.

it's not as busy as it was last time, the music slightly quieter, the air in the room less stiff. gojo seems less energized tonight--considering that he hasn't abandoned any of you to talk to the houseplant in the corner--even with the dancing. 

which he is terrible at. it's like watching an eight-month-old learn how to stand. or a man trying to impress absolutely no one. his limbs move like they aren't even attached to his body.

"is he drunk?" you're asking suguru and nanami--who have been sitting there longer than you have. "i didn't see him order anything." 

nanami laughs and suguru ruffles your hair. "that's satoru completely sober." 

"...are you sure?" 

"yeah, he doesn't usually drink. even that," he nods to your drink which you're sipping with a wince, "is too bitter for him." 

you raise a brow, watching shoko frown at him, and then nudge him away. "he drank last time i came, though?" 

suguru nods, looking away like he knows something you don't and nanami snorts.

"what?" 

"he was nervous last time," nanami answers. he's got less than a smile on, but it's better than the frowns you've observed sitting next to him in class. 

your brow furrows. "about what?" 

suguru is about to answer, nudging nanami not very subtly, when the very topic of conversation pops up, bumping into you as he squeezes himself in between you and suguru. his presence is an interruption in itself, but he's smiling like he always does, acting like he's been there the whole time. 

you might've pushed him away a week or two ago. now you just sigh and move a little so he can fit.

"did you miss me, sweetheart?" he asks you, leaning against suguru. "don't worry, i'll dance with you next."

"no, and i don't dance." 

gojo rolls his eyes. "everyone dances." 

you look pointedly between him and the group of people dancing in the middle of the room. an image of him almost tripping over shoko makes you smile. "well some people shouldn't." 

suguru laughs and gojo grins even wider at you--his hair is slightly sweaty and his eyes are peering at you over the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. "let's test that theory," he says, taking a step back. his tone is nothing less than suggestive. and his fingers wiggle towards you, beckoning for you to follow.

there's a twinge in your stomach and you adjust in your seat, frowning at him. "i told you that i don't dance." 

"well, i do. and you owe me for last time." 

you balk. "owe you for what? making sure you didn't get murdered on the street?" 

gojo pouts, his face so unserious and completely genuine at the same time. "you made me dance all alone. you didn't even come watch." 

"you left me--" 

"just one dance?" he asks, leaning in towards you. his eyes are sparkling. "i'll get you another drink." 

"you'll get me that anyway." 

"i'll let you pick it this time." 

"that's usually expected, you know?" 

he ignores that, "c'mon," he pleads, "you know that you want to." 

"i don't know that, actually." 

and then someone coughs behind gojo and you realize that your friends have been listening to this entire interaction and that you'd completely forgotten they were there. how long has he been standing like that? just two inches away from your face? 

"just go, y/n," shoko says, "put the rest of us out of our misery. i've been listening to him whine all night." 

"hey--" gojo turns, his voice defensive. 

but you take another sip of your drink, sighing as you stand up. "fine," you tell him, rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a smile. "one dance, and you can't ask me for anything else tonight." 

his teeth are like rows of knives. sharp and inviting. "okay." 

he holds his hand out for you again, and you take it, feeling that strange pull in the pit of your stomach. 

it's probably just the alcohol, though. 

*

you don't know how long you've been dancing with gojo. 

it started with one dance where he didn't do anything except twirl you around and sway with you, like he'd accepted the fact that you weren't exactly light on your feet, singing along to the music in your ear, making snide remarks about where you'd placed your hands. moving them like pieces on a chess board.

his breath was hot on your ear. condensation on a glass. 

and then you'd gradually moved to letting him lead you, after who knows how many songs, following his steps and not apologizing when your foot slammed against his, or when you bumped shoulders with him, probably creating marks on your skin. 

and then his hands were on your hips, his chin resting against your shoulder, and it felt almost nice to be dancing with him. almost relaxing to forget momentarily about where you were and who you were with. it shouldn't surprise you that you're comfortable with him, but it does. there's no worry about the way you're looking at him or if anyone is watching the two of you--but then again, you might be slightly drunk. 

gojo hasn't commented on how long the two of you have been dancing, and evidently, you've let the alcohol sway you into staying for more than just another song. 

so now, with his lips on your ear, you're almost smiling into him. your heart is fast, and the adrenaline rush you're experiencing is a pleasant thing; if someone ripped out your heart right you wouldn't even notice.

"see?" gojo says, his voice just a murmur with all of the music swimming in your ears. "you're not so bad." 

it sounds like something else to you.

"you won't be saying that in the morning," you tell him, stepping on his toes, but he doesn't pull back or move too quickly. if you thought rationally about his movements you might notice that everything he's doing is slow; like you're an animal he's trying not to scare. 

"i'm used to it," he pulls back a little bit. "shoko does that too." 

"'cause you deserve it." 

he laughs and leans in, so you follow him. 

are you just swaying now? or is he leading you in something more complex? a dance you've never heard of, or a simple in and out? 

you don't know, and you really don't care. 

after a moment, you sigh. "i've never danced with anyone before," you whisper to him, almost like not saying the words at all. it might be a lie, you're not quite sure. 

your words are just thoughts now with no sort of intervention between your brain and your mouth. intoxication fills your lungs. 

"really?" 

"mhm," you hum, "no one's ever asked me." 

"i don't believe you," his voice might be teasing, or serious, or he might be barking at you.

you laugh anyway. gojo's hands are firm against your skin. he feels kind of hazy, like a dream. so you laugh again. 

"you okay?" 

"i think i might be a little drunk." 

he snorts, his breath short. "really? i didn't think you'd be a lightweight." 

"you're a lightweight." 

"yeah, but you already knew that. i only drink when we come here, anyway. nanami doesn't like having to drag me home." 

"you're heavy," you agree, looking up at him. you can see his eyelashes from under his glasses. you can see his tongue as he moves it, and the tip of his nose. you can almost feel it when he swallows.

"sorry," he teases. his face looks different under these lights. it looks different when you're looking at him this close. 

"you're kinda pretty," the words fall from your mouth as you think them, and you grin. "huh." 

it shouldn't be an odd realization, but it is. his skin is almost translucent, and his mouth is sinful. his eyes are wide and bright and satoru gojo could be a sculpture if he wasn't a man.

gojo looks down at you, his brows raised. "you just noticed?" 

"i don't look at you a lot." 

"oh, please," he shakes his head. "i've caught you staring." 

"i only stare when i'm worried that you're a robot planted by aliens or something. you say weird things." 

he laughs, and his hands squeeze your waist. he could stab you in the back right now and it wouldn't even matter. you're not even worried about it. he could flirt with you all night and you don't think you'd quite mind.

you giggle at the thought, heart beating fast with every breath that comes from him. 

"what?" 

"you're not a bad roommate, you know?" you ask him, but maybe you're asking yourself.

"i'm not?" 

"no. you're actually... kinda considerate. my old roommate--my ex--he never wanted to go anywhere with me. he wouldn't have asked me to dance." 

"why not?" 

"i think he thought i was stuck up. or embarassing. or not worth it," you breathe, almost airly, the words are true but they don't matter to you. not like this, pressed up against him. "i don't know." 

gojo's brow furrows. "how?" 

your brows furrow. "how what?" 

"how could he think you're not worth it?" he repeats, and you laugh back. because it's a joke.

"you'd have to ask him." 

"i don't think i'll ever be talking to him," he answers, voice rough. "it wouldn't be good for either of us. and i don't trust people with such terrible taste." 

you giggle at the thought of the frog sculpture, the disgusted look on gojo's face. you can almost see through him.

"you shouldn't," you answer, not even thinking.  

there's a moment where the room is quiet, everyone inhaling at the same time, and then exhaling. you feel like you fit here, somehow. like everything is moving at just the right place. this silence is a comforting feeling, the bubbles bursting in your stomach reiterating it. 

"hey," gojo says, interrupting that feeling. 

"what?" 

"you're a good roommate, too. you're not stuck up. or embarassing." 

"i'm not?" 

he smiles at you. "well, you're a little mean." 

you smile back. "only to you, satoru." 

his face drops, but you don't notice. you lean against his chest again, your eyes fluttering shut. if you were focused enough, you could feel his heartbeat. but you don't. and you don't watch as he swallows. as his voice falters, for only a single second.

but you do look at him when he says, "my friends like you." 

"they do?" 

he laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up on his face. "wasn't it obvious?" 

you shake your head. you're not sure how long you've been standing with him, or if it even matters. you're not even sure if you're still in the bar, or your bed, being covered with your blanket, tucked in by gentle hands. 

how long has it been now? 

"i like you too," gojo whispers, "just so you know." 

and you could be at home, with your roommate. you could be right next to him. it doesn't matter, because you only whisper, "good," and then it's all gone. 

*

when you wake up the next morning, gojo is already laughing at you. 

your headache is a curse. your mind is in shambles. and your body aches with the manipulation of only one person. 

you hate your roommate and his terrible taste in drinks and that he doesn't even say anything when you slump against the counter, not even bothering to make fun of you or complain about how terrible you are when you're drunk. 

he just smiles easily, ruffling your hair.  

and when he starts to cook some bacon in the pan, you don't say anything, but you go and stand next to him, letting him hold you up. 

there are no words. only the popping of oil in a pan. 

and that feeling, of course. because it wasn't the alcohol. 

*

so maybe satoru gojo is your friend. you will not admit this to anyone aloud, but you concede a little bit in your head, because it's a fragile place there, and you're a terrible liar. 

and so maybe you hang out with him sometimes. 

it's not just the game nights or study sessions anymore. you sit on the couch and play with your phone and he sits down next to you. he'll rub your feet, or massage your legs and you let him. 

only because he's kinda good at it, of course. 

and sometimes you'll turn on a movie and he'll appear out of nowhere, complaining about whatever you picked, but laying down nonetheless. and after several minutes he'll move closer to you, resting his head on your thigh. and you might play with his hair, but only because it's unreasonably soft. 

and some mornings when you wake up and make yourself breakfast, not even trying to be quiet, you'll make a little extra. but it's not for him, it's just a coincidence. 

and he stops by the library on his way home from suguru's, or some girl's house, and the two of you will walk home together, talking about class, or the weather, or whatever gojo wants. you let him do this, because it's usually dark outside, and you don't like walking home alone. 

and if he barges into your room sometimes--obviously not knocking--you only complain a little bit. and then you let him lay in your bed and mess with your things. 

but only because it's the easier option, of course. 

and you've missed the feeling of having someone near. and satoru gojo is easy to be around. 

*

"gojo," you gasp, as soon as the door opens in your face. and then you scowl. "don't you knock?" 

he pushes you so he can move past, raising a brow at you. "i live here." his hands are empty, and he's not wearing a coat again. just a weird button-up probably more expensive than your share of the rent. how he's survived over two decades, you're not sure. 

your brows furrow at him. "well, you could give some warning if you're going to kick open the door. what if you broke my nose?" 

"well, why were you standing right in front of the door when i kicked it?" gojo mimics, flicking you away, then looking down to your hands where your wallet and keys are piled up. "you going somewhere?" 

"to the store." 

"it's eleven." 

"why thank you for that update, gojo. i really appreciate it," and then you move beside him to open the door. 

but gojo grabs your hand, making sure to roll his eyes at you where you can see it, and pulls you away so he can step in front of the door. "what could you need from the store right now?" 

"i need stuff." 

he crosses his arms, uncharacteristically stern. "like what?" 

"stuff. girl stuff. you wouldn't get it." 

he gasps, mouth dropping. "oh no, did i steal too many of your tampons again?" 

"first of all, that's against the apartment rules, so you better hope not. second of all, please move," you glare at him. "i need to hurry." 

"you can't leave right now." 

"i believe there's such a thing as free will..." you try and push him away, but he doesn't budge. "and you're not the boss of me." 

"it's too late for you to walk to the store. go tomorrow." 

you cross your arms. "when have i ever listened to you?" you ask him, feeling that familiar irritation crawl up your skin. 

but then gojo is pulling your arms apart and resting them at your sides and saying "stop that," as a gentle chide. and that irritation molds. you push his hands away. 

you want to push his hands off of the edge of the earth just so that he'll never touch you again.

"seriously, gojo, i need to go. they close at midnight." 

"you can't walk to the store by yourself in the dark." 

"i can do whatever i want." 

"then i'm locking you in your room until tomorrow. you're grounded." 

you poke his shoulder. you can't decide if he's serious or not. his voice is always teasing, and you can't see enough of his eyes. and you can't trust a single thing he says. "when did you become so overbearing?" you ask him, trying not to grind your teeth. 

"when i realized how weak you are." 

"weak?" you balk at him. "i'm not weak. please retract that sentence before i accidentally punch you." 

"you can't even push me away from the door. i'll take my chances with your fists." 

"that's because you're irritating me," you tell him, as you try to do it again. "anger distracts me." 

he laughs at you, leaning even further against the door. 

"gojo," you whine, trying to pinch him away instead. "stop being an ass. just get out of the way." 

he holds a hand to his chest, offended. "i am showing concern about your safety," he claims, shaking his head at you. 

"you are ruining my mood." 

"oh, good." 

you scowl. "move. right now." 

"that was very intimidating," he grins at you, "but maybe try again." 

you groan and try to stab him with your key, which he pushes away, still smiling, still completely the worst. 

"i--" you sigh, "i don't like you very much." 

he snorts. 

then you pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. "please, gojo. i'll be back in fifteen minutes." 

"what is that?" 

you frown. "what?" 

"what's wrong with your face?" 

you throw your arms up, shaking your head. then you mutter another thing about hating him under your breath and finally turn away. you set your keys and your wallet on the counter, pouting as you sit down on the couch. 

gojo is there a moment later, laughing at you. "was that supposed to be convincing?" 

"don't talk to me. ever again." 

you shake your head, fed up with him and everything about this living situation. how are you locked in your apartment right now?

gojo tilts his head back, and then pauses for a moment.  

"then how am i supposed to ask if you want to come with me to the store?" he asks, nonchalantly. "i need some stuff." 

and you should be angry at him--you should probably break one of his fingers or cut his hair off in his sleep. you should tell him that you hate his company and that if he ever tells you what to do again-- 

but instead, you jump up from the couch, smiling at him. "let's go," you say, quickly, before you change your mind. 

and you don't get to see it when gojo smiles back at you, softly. 

*

"hey," he whispers, "you shouldn't sleep here." 

gojo is shaking your shoulder gently, his breath on your face, his voice soft--even in the haze of disrupted sleep. there's a warm feeling in your belly as he speaks to you, an unknowing smile on your face.

"hmm?" you answer, trying to remember who you are and why you're here. who he is.

"it's almost midnight. what are you doing on the couch?" gojo is helping you sit up. his hands are ridiculously warm, and you don't think about how nice they feel on the bare skin of your back. 

"gojo?" 

he laughs. "the one and only. c'mon, i'll tuck you in." 

"did you just get home?" you must still be sleeping, because his hands are so soft right now. and his voice is so quiet--like the creaking of an old house. 

"yeah. are you going to get up?" he's kneeling in front of you, and his face is bare. you almost want to laugh at how bright his hair is even in the dark. 

"where were you?" 

he shakes his head, smiling up at you, and moves from the floor. "c'mon, sit up," he beckons, trying to get you to move your head from its place. you wince. eventually, he gives up and your heart almost disappears when he picks you up, tapping your legs so that you'll wrap them around his waist. 

you do it, but only because you don't want to fall. 

"why are you so tall?" you complain as he carries you to your room, feeling much more awake when you're this high in the air. 

gojo snorts. "i'll take that as a thank you," he whispers in your ear and sets you on your bed. then he sits on the edge and takes your socks off, pulling the covers out from under you. his movements are slow as he covers every inch of skin he can see, his breath the only sound between the two of you. 

it's colder when his hands move, and he looks at you for a moment as if trying to make sure he's satisfied with his job. 

"are you going to make fun of me for this in the morning?" 

gojo grins, squeezing your leg as he stands up. "probably. but only a little." 

"okay," you yawn, blinking as he backs up towards the door. 

"night, sweetheart," he whispers to you, and then a flash of hair is all you see before your door is closed and you drift back to sleep. 

and in the morning you wake up and can't remember how you got in bed. gojo doesn't say a thing. 

*

satoru gojo can say so much without saying a single thing. 

when he burst into your room--surprising you because you hadn't realized he was home--throwing himself on your bed and mumbling something about hating his life, you didn't say a word. 

and he'd sat there for ten minutes while you typed out a paper on your laptop, glancing over to him every couple of minutes, slightly worried because he hadn't moved an inch. 

you've seen a lot of his moods recently. you've seen him excited about some movie you didn't understand, exhausted after a long day of classes, angry when suguru and you leave him out of a joke. but most of that, you assume, is just him being himself. every feeling he has is probably seven times larger than the average person's.

but now that he's groaning into your bed, you can tell, just from the way his body deflates, that there's something wrong. you could see it when he walked in the room, and felt it because he'd told you he was getting dinner with his parents tonight. 

but if you know one thing about him, it's that he won't talk about it if you ask. 

because after a couple of weeks of spending more and more time with him, you'd quickly realized that you didn't actually know much about his life. he doesn't tell any stories about his childhood, or high school years--minus the ones that he tried to suffocate suguru for letting slip. he doesn't mention his parents much, and when he does, it's nothing but the bare minimum. he mentions classes so offhandedly that you hadn't even known how extensive his studies were until suguru was teasing him about an award he'd gotten a couple of years ago. 

he could talk to you for hours on end, but he wouldn't say anything. 

so after realizing this, you'd resorted to asking suguru about it.

that night, gojo was asleep on the floor between your feet. his hand was under his head, and he was snoring loud enough for you to notice. you'd sat down to watch a movie with him after he'd claimed that you and suguru were losers for being tired at this hour and that he was the youngest of you all. 

suguru only smiled a little bit at your question.

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else," he'd said softly, into the warm air of your apartment. "even with me, and i've known him since we were kids. his family..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

you'd frowned. "what?" 

"he's always been too much for them, in a way. i mean, you know, he is too much most of the time. but he does all of it purposefully; the arrogance, the bravado. i don't know... i think he just wants to control whatever image everyone has of him. to the extent that his personality is based on pushing people away, just so he can figure out who's actually going to stick around." 

you'd watched him then, with his fluttering eyelashes--his sunglasses lying on the ground next to him--and his bright hair. the gentle movement of his lips as he dreamt. he was softer like this, less forceful, less of a burden, and more of a boy.

and beautiful, of course, but that's an offhanded thought you wouldn't acknowledge.

"so, he doesn't talk to you about--" the words felt wrong, and you almost felt guilty for talking about him like this, with his best friend. but still. "--important stuff?" 

"he talks to me about a lot of things. but, no, not really. i get a long-winded rant sometimes, but not often." 

"then how are you supposed to know anything about him?"

suguru smiled at you, looking between you and gojo like there was a secret he didn't want to tell. he sighed. "satoru doesn't really tell me any of the important stuff because we've known each other for so long. i understand how his family is because i've watched him deal with them. i can guess how he's feeling based on his expression. but for people he hasn't known as long, like you, getting to know him is like i-spy." 

suguru didn’t need to elaborate. you got it.

like trying to find little hints of him hidden between all of the mess. you'd snorted and agreed. 

and it feels even more true now, with him cowering in your blankets. but still, you say nothing. 

you get it, to a certain degree. vulnerability was one of the feelings you liked to push away; secrets were only supposed to be coveted by you. getting close to people was a dangerous thing, risky in its own way. 

but, thinking that gojo doesn't trust you--couldn't trust you... it's more irritating than it should be. and maybe that's just because you're arrogant, and think yourself to be trustworthy. or maybe it's because you trust him, in your own unique way, even with all of his too much and extremeness. 

you don't say that to him though, just like he doesn't say anything to you. 

"hey," you push him with a foot. "are you drooling on my comforter?" 

there's a moment of silence, then gojo rolls over. "not a lot." 

you roll your eyes at him and type another sentence--a collection of words that have nothing to do with the actual essay you're writing, naturally--waiting for him to say something else. 

and, predictably, he does. "why aren't you paying attention to me?" 

"i'm busy, gojo." 

"no, you're not." 

"i am doing homework." 

he looks up at you. his sunglasses are somewhere on your floor. "well, then you're definitely not busy," he grins. 

you swat away a hand that tries to steal your computer. 

"aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" you ask him, trying to seem like you don't care about the answer. 

he sighs again. "canceled." 

"why?" 

"my dad had a meeting or something." 

"oh." 

you let the silence wade for a minute or two, trying to be discreet when you watch his face for any signs of discontent. but gojo just has his eyes closed. his hands above his head. 

eventually, you nudge him again. "did you eat anything?" 

he shakes his head. 

"do you want me to make you something?" 

an eye opens. he turns over and rests his head on his hands, squinting at you. "are you being nice to me?" 

"not intentionally." 

he snorts, poking you, almost in awe. "you are." 

"i'm just trying to make sure you don't die, okay? who knows what you've eaten today." 

he crawls up your bed, sitting right next to you so he can rest his head on your shoulder. and you should push him off, but you don't. "it's okay. i'm not very hungry." 

"that's not what i asked." 

gojo laughs against you, his hair brushing against your neck. 

you shouldn't say anything more. you shouldn't even entertain him and his antics, and you shouldn't even care (but you do. for some, stupid, infuriating reason). 

so you look at him, and your voice is soft when you ask, "you okay?" to him, hoping that it doesn't seem too intrusive. wishing that you didn't actually care if he was or not.

gojo's eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you get that feeling again. 

that feeling in your stomach that makes you want to jump away from him. that makes your hands want to shake, and your voice fade. that feeling that you know--too well, too much--but can't get rid of. 

like an itch you're not really supposed to scratch. 

gojo swallows. "yeah," he answers, with no grin, no conceit. "i'm okay." 

and it shouldn't feel like a relief to hear, but it does. you nod, look away, and go back to your computer. back to your actual life, which shouldn't have any satoru gojo in it. 

but a minute later he adds: "i'd be better if you made me dinner, though." 

and you pull on his hair a little. you try to pretend like his smile doesn't fill you with butterflies. 

*

this shouldn't be happening. 

it's the only reasonable thought running through your brain at the moment. the only echo you can discern, the only words you can make out in the jumble of anxiety and horror running through your mind. 

he should not be this close. 

gojo had only picked you up from work once again, his easy smile meeting yours as soon as he walked through the door--you'd been waiting, wondering when he was going to show up. 

at seven-thirty he was there, letting in the cold air and sitting in the seat next to yours, complaining about the fact that you had a job that diverted your attention away from him while you rolled your eyes. 

he sat there for the half an hour remaining in your shift, distracting you. 

two months ago you would've kicked him out. would've called some make-believe security. 

but you just listened while he talked to you about space theories that didn't make any sense. 

and then he'd grabbed your bag for you, turning off the lights before you could, pushing in chairs while you organized the reception desk. 

and his hand grabbed yours before you thought to notice--swinging along while the two of you began the walk home. 

and halfway there, gojo stopped, looking up at something. "hey," he'd poked you. "look at the stars." 

you'd done it, begrudgingly, squinting. "i can count, like, three." 

"there's at least five." 

"why did you stop me to do this? it's cold." 

"because they look nice," he argues, looking down at you. "you have no eye for beauty." 

and, really, you might've agreed with him. you might've pushed him away from you and told him to hurry up and you might've not cared at all. 

but you could see his eyes, just a little bit, behind his sunglasses. and his smile was alabaster, and that feeling--that gasping for breath, trying to hold on to anything feeling--was there again. 

and it was poking you. like a push in some direction. like a laugh telling you that you were too afraid to do anything. 

you were looking at him. right at his face and the only thing you wanted to say was that he was wrong. 

he was wrong because at least you knew that he looked beautiful. 

but those words wouldn't leave your lips--that thought couldn't leave your head--so you were only staring at him. wishing that you'd never let him into your apartment and that he hadn't started becoming a person to you. 

it wasn't fair like this. 

"what?" he whispered, his smile dropping, like he could tell there was something wrong with you. like he knew you that well. 

if he'd kept on smiling, you wouldn't have done it. you wouldn't have pushed up on your toes and leaned into him, and you wouldn't have kissed him like you did. 

like you're doing. 

and it would've been fine because you never would've started this knowing that it would eventually have to stop. 

and even though it takes him less than a second to kiss you back--his lips molding to yours like an automatic reaction--you know that you shouldn't be doing this. 

that you can't be doing this. not with him. not like this. 

so when gojo's hands move to your waist, his breath even in your mouth, you push at his chest. and you want to run away. 

"i'm--" you swallow, trying not to taste him, the bubblegum flavor of him, and almost flinch away. "i'm sorry." 

gojo's mouth is frozen from where he stands two feet away. his hands are in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. "you..." 

and you've never heard him speechless before. just the idea of it makes you blurt out whatever comes to mind. "i shouldn't have done that," you tell him, and, "i didn't mean to--i don't--" you shake your head. "sorry. i'm sorry. can we forget about this? can we get home because i'm really cold?" 

"you kissed me," gojo says, so simply. 

the words are another blow to your heart. you were hoping that he wouldn't have noticed. 

and wince and watch him, his face as it shifts, moving with each thought in his head. 

"gojo, i'm really--" 

"no," he interrupts, taking a step towards you. 

"what?" 

"that's not my name." 

you frown. "yes it is?" 

he shakes his head. "no, it's satoru. you've said it before, you know. you should keep saying it." 

"when have i said it?" you ask, momentarily blinded by how he demands this. who is he to demand anything? 

"when you were drunk." 

you scoff. "i'm not just going to call you by your first name cause you want me to," you tell him, "who do you think i am?" 

and then satoru laughs, shaking his head at you, his grin full-force on his face. "are you serious? you kissed me and now you don't want to call me by my first name?" 

you freeze. "i said i was sorry about that," you say, weakly. 

you feel like who you've always felt around him. not as easy, not as cool, never as smooth. you feel like a child caught doing something they're not supposed to. you want to run away from him, but he knows where you live. 

"you're sorry?" 

"i didn't mean to." 

he quirks a brow. "you didn't mean to?" 

"it was an accident?" 

he takes another step closer. "it was an accident?" 

"are you just going to keep repeating everything i say?" you ask, voice hard. this must be a dream. 

satoru shakes his head at you. "no, but i have a question." 

"...okay." 

"if i try to kiss you right now, are you going to try and murder me? i know that we're away from the apartment right now, but it would really ruin the mood." 

you stare at him. 

it must be answer enough because he steps forward and he kisses you again. but this time, it feels less mechanical. his lips are soft and smooth as they push against yours--and he pushes like he's demanding something from you. like he knows more about what you can give than you do. 

and he grins against you like he's doing everything exactly right. 

but when satoru pulls back, your eyes stay shut. you try and banish the feeling in your stomach from your body, but it doesn't respond to idle threats. 

"we shouldn't do this," you whisper to him. you don't open your eyes. you don't want to see his face and fall victim to another one of his schemes. 

"why not?" 

"the last time i kissed one of my roommates..." you imply, hoping that you don't have to tell him that you're scared. 

"oh, right," he brushes some hair from your face. he has not moved an inch away from you. "i forgot that you're experienced." 

"wasn't it obvious?" 

he laughs, and then nudges your cheek with a finger. "look at me." 

you shake your head. 

"c'mon, just a little." 

his voice is so soft. satoru is whispering like it's just for you. and you've never heard him like this and you don't think you want to see him. 

"please, sweetheart?" he asks, one last time, and you have to. if only to put yourself out of your own misery. "good. now listen--" 

"don't tell me what to do." 

he rolls his eyes. "listen," he repeats. "i know you don't like me very much. and i know that you only keep me around for my rent money and my pretty face--" 

you kinda want to hit him. 

"--but i've wanted to kiss you for weeks. and i'm not good at the..." he swallows, blinking just briefly. "all of the telling stuff, but i want to be. with you. for you." 

you're not sure if that's the end, or if it's the beginning. your eyes are stuck on his smile, and you're not listening to anything he said. 

he's very close right now. so accessible. and it's just another reason to want to push him away. 

satoru clears his throat, nudging your head with his nose. "and i'm tired of shoko and suguru calling me a coward, so it'd be great if you'd mention that you kissed me first." 

your brows furrow. "you told shoko and suguru?" 

"i didn't say anything," he almost swears. "they tricked me into admitting it." 

"when?" 

"...the day after i introduced you to them." 

you pull away to observe his face. "really?" 

he groans. "stop looking at me like that," he says, "it's mean." 

you almost smile at him again. then close your eyes. "okay."

"havent you listened to anything i've said to you?" he asks, rhetorically. "i flirt with you every day." 

"you flirt with everything." 

"mmm, true," he leans his chin against your head, breathing you in. "now that i've poured my heart out for you, can we go home? it's cold out here, and i'd rather make out on our couch than that bench over there." 

"who said anything about making out?" 

"please," he wraps an arm around your shoulder, and smiles down at you--with all of the typical swagger--and maybe this time you let him. 

*

[97linelover]

Lights, camera & Action - Kim Mingyu

You were currently getting the cake ready for Mingyu’s return when your phone vibrated. At first, you tried to ignore it. But as it continued to buzz, you answered, “Hi?”

You didn’t check the caller ID. “Hi baby, just wanted to let you know that I’m 5 minutes away,” his raspy voice spoke through the phone.

“Alright love, I can’t wait,” you said with the brightest smile into the phone. “Love you,” you added before ending the call.

You dusted the chocolate nut cake with powdered sugar and then washed the dishes. The sound of Mingyu’s footsteps growing closer made you all giddy.

“Hey baby,” he said with his deep, velvety voice as you turned around, grinning brightly. “Gyu,” you said, practically jumping into his arms.

“God, I missed you,” he said while holding you close, kissing your head. You looked up at him, “One week in Tokyo and then one week in Paris. How was it?” You walked into the kitchen, and Mingyu groaned at the sight of the cake.

“You made my favorite,” he said, his mouth practically watering.

“Yes, you mentioned you were craving something sweet, so I decided to bake a cake,” you said as he kissed you softly. “You know what I really meant with something sweet, my love?” he whispered into your ear while placing soft kisses there.

A small whimper escaped your lips as he gently backed you up until you bumped against the table.

“No cake?” you asked innocently, and he smirked.

“No, baby, I was craving your sweet little pussy,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

He lifted you onto the table, your baby blue summer dress rising to expose your white slip. Mingyu quickly got on his knees and pulled the white fabric aside, eagerly devouring you. His mouth made you cry out his name, and the way he hovered over you, his body pounding into you, made it all you could think about.

“I missed you, fuck,” he groaned as he moved perfectly, hitting every spot he needed to.

“Missed you too, Gyu, so much,” you moaned, feeling the familiar sensation approaching. “Gonna come, Gyu,” you said breathlessly.

“Yes, baby, cream my cock,” his hand wandered to your neck, squeezing slightly.

“Oh God,” you felt yourself tipping over the edge as your entire body shook, Mingyu moving even faster, chasing his own release.

You knew he was close from the way his abs were flexed, his neck vein popping out, and his focused expression. One thing was for sure, Mingyu looked like a Greek god while fucking you, his tan skin glistening with sweat, dark strands of hair falling into his face.

“Fill me up, Gyu,” you moaned, clinging to his arms. His brown eyes found yours, and he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was lazy and slightly sloppy, and soon you felt him fill you up. He kissed your lips again, grinning.

“Well, indeed,” you giggled. “Fuck.”

He pulled out and hastily grabbed a towel to clean you up. You were slightly sore and hissed. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, kissing your thigh. You softly pushed him away.

“Let’s shower,” you said, taking off your dress. Mingyu followed you, and you both enjoyed a quick shower. Mingyu pouted, saying he was hungry.

“Should we order some pasta?” you suggested, and Mingyu agreed. “We can watch the new Inside Out movie,” he said. “There were huge posters everywhere in France.”

“Oh yes, I wanted to watch it last week,” you said happily while tying a knot around your bathrobe.

When the food arrived, Mingyu was quieter than usual, lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Gyu?” you asked, taking some pizza bread.

“I signed a new collab in Paris,” he admitted, and your eyes widened. “Which one?”

“Calvin Klein asked me to be their new ambassador,” he said shyly.

“Calvin Klein? Mingyu, that’s huge!” you said, smiling proudly. He nodded. “It sure is. I have my first official shoot next week, so I need to work out some more.”

“You work out enough, baby. Don’t stress yourself,” you said honestly. He sighed. “But it’s CK; they will all look at my body,” he pouted.

You got up and approached him. “I swear to God, Mingyu, you’re perfect. Your body is so freaking hot, and I know how insane your pictures will look.”

He leaned back, his bare chest on full display. “You think so?” he asked, looking unsure. You nodded. “You’re a dream come true,” you said, opening your bathrobe and letting it fall to the floor. “And I just can’t get enough of you.”

“God, baby,” he groaned. “I think this should be the best workout,” he smirked, kissing your neck.

As the shooting day came, you decided to surprise Mingyu on set. You typed in the address, and your iPhone guided you through the empty neighborhood. Mingyu had told you it was kind of like a warehouse.

You called Sumi, his manager, who walked out of the steel door, waving you in. “Y/N! It’s cold; come inside!” she said with the biggest smile.

You hurried inside. “I took the train today,” you said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, Gyu told us you were stubborn this morning,” she said playfully. You laughed. “He was in a rush, so I didn’t want to keep him behind.”

“Perfect! He’s already shooting the first look. There are three more,” Sumi said, and you nodded while listening. “Does he know?” she asked.

You shook your head. “No, I got off work earlier!” you smiled.

“He will be happy,” she said, smiling. You saw the lights of the camera flashing. “Yes, like that. Now grab the shirt, flirt with the camera,” the photographer instructed.

You saw Mingyu standing there, dressed in jeans and no shirt. Your mouth fell agape. Shirtless?

You watched every move he made, fascinated by his professionalism. The way he moved his arms, how he lured the camera in with his eyes, and how he bit his lip while stroking down his abs.

Mingyu looked up, and his eyes found yours, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Okay, and we are done!” the photographer yelled. Jungkook ran towards you, lifting you up while twirling you around. “My baby!” he said, kissing your lips softly.

“Mingyu, hurry. Next outfit!” a petite girl said. “You can go into the changing room, and then we will help you once you’re dressed.”

“Come on, you can help me change,” Mingyu said, smirking. You gasped, “Gyu, not here.” He laughed.

You followed him into the small dressing room, where a pair of boxer shorts and jeans lay. “Will you be wearing a shirt?” you asked, confused.

“Yeah, a jeans jacket,” Mingyu chuckled.

“Mmm,” you muttered, feeling slightly possessive.

Mingyu didn’t have time to think about your mood and quickly changed. You watched him with curious eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked, his shy smile as he turned towards you.

“You look sexy,” you said honestly, kissing him softly.

A knock interrupted you. “We’ll finish later,” he whispered in your ear.

You watched as he stood there, looking at the pictures with a hint of red on his cheeks. Was he blushing?

“Baby, come here,” he said, and you shyly walked over. “Are those good?” he asked, showing you some of the photos. You looked over them and pointed out one where he flexed his arms above his head. “This one is really good!”

Mingyu grinned, pulling you closer. “You have an eye for this,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “But what do you think? Should we frame this one for our room?”

You laughed, “Only if you sign it.” Mingyu chuckled and kissed your temple, “Deal.”

The rest of the shoot went smoothly, and every time you caught Mingyu’s gaze, he would send a wink your way, making your heart flutter. You couldn’t wait to have him all to yourself again.

As the shoot wrapped up, Mingyu thanked the team with his signature charm, giving everyone around him a smile that could light up the entire room. You watched him interact with the crew, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest. He was so natural, so confident—yet the way he kept glancing at you showed that, no matter how many people admired him, his attention was always on you.

After he changed out of the last outfit, Mingyu walked over to you, his hand slipping naturally into yours. “Ready to go, my love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied, squeezing his hand. As you two walked out of the building, the cool evening air greeted you, making you shiver slightly. Mingyu noticed immediately and pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

The car ride back home was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft music playing on the radio. Every now and then, Mingyu would glance over at you, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he drove. The city lights flickered by, creating a soft glow that danced across his features.

When you finally arrived home, Mingyu turned off the car and looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know,” he started, his voice teasing, “I still owe you a little ‘thank you’ for surprising me today.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending not to know what he meant. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on thanking me, Mr. Calvin Klein ambassador?”

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you slowly, taking his time as if savoring every second. “I think you’ll like it,” he whispered against your lips before pulling back and hopping out of the car, quickly moving around to open your door. His chivalry never failed to make you smile.

As soon as you stepped inside your apartment, Mingyu’s hands were on you, pulling you close as he kicked the door shut behind him. His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, his hands roaming your back, pulling you flush against him.

“You know,” he murmured between kisses, “seeing you there today… watching me… it drove me crazy.” His voice was deep, laced with desire.

You smiled against his lips. “Is that so?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair. “Then I guess I should surprise you more often.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through you as he picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “You’re welcome to surprise me anytime,” he said, carrying you towards the bedroom.

Once inside, Mingyu gently laid you down on the bed, his eyes darkening with need. He took his time undressing you, his fingers lingering on every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory.

When he finally joined you, the air between you was electric, filled with unspoken promises. His touch was gentle at first, reverent, as if he was worshipping every part of you. But as the night went on, the need between you both grew stronger, more urgent.

Mingyu made love to you with a fervor that left you breathless, every kiss, every touch, driving you both closer to the edge. And when you finally reached that point of no return, it felt like the world disappeared around you, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

Afterward, you lay in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled together, hearts still racing. Mingyu’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his breathing steadying as he held you close.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispered into the quiet of the room, his voice full of emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. “And I’m lucky to have you, Gyu. I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved. But more than that, I’m just happy that you’re mine.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly. “Always yours,” he promised, his words a vow.

[honeekyuu]

take the edge off. [suna rintarou x f!reader] chapter five.

>>You struggle with your weight and body image, but Suna extensively and thoroughly undoes all the damage done by other guys.

or

You haven't gotten laid in over a year, and your best friend takes it upon himself to fix that for you.<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist.

a/n: welcome to the last installment of this fic!!!! i hope you all enjoyed the fic <3 and i will CERTAINLY be writing for sunarin again, as he is in fact my entire world :')

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Where are you going-”

“You have to leave-”

“Y/n, come back -”

“My plans are all ruined!” 

You slide around the bar in the kitchen, barely managing to evade Suna’s grasp. He smacks his hands down on the counter, laughing as he watches you slip and slide across the tile, just out of reach.

“Why are you running!” He yells through his laughter. You just scowl at him.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this, Rin – I had a plan!” You gesture at yourself in exasperation. “I look stupid!”

“I’m a fan, personally,” He says, beaming at you. You make to escape, but he matches you, trapping you behind the bar. You stomp a foot.

“I had everything figured out! I was gonna dress up real pretty and surprise you – I look like someone’s grandmother-”

“Maybe I’m into sexy grandmothers-” He cuts off, barking out a laugh when you cut him a glare.

“I’m leaving you.”

“ Don’t even- ” He reaches across the counter for you, giving up and chasing you through the kitchen when you jump away. “- joke about that, you fuck -”

You scream, making a beeline through the living room and down the hall. You slide into the bathroom, reaching for the door and trying to throw it shut, but Suna just slams a hand on it and pushes his way into the room, trapping you. You scream helplessly, flailing when he catches you around the waist and lifts you off your feet.

“My beautiful lingerie! All of my plans!”

When he laughs in your ear, warm and close, your resolution cracks, and you slump in his arms. He hums, pleased, when you wrap your arms and legs around him and cling tight.

“Did you go out and buy lingerie, baby?”

“Yes.” You scowl, letting him walk you over to the sink to set you down on the edge.

“And you wanted to surprise me with it?”

“Yes,” You say, leaning away to glare up at him. “And now I’m gonna return it all. Jerk.”

“What’s this attitude for, huh?” He clicks his teeth at you, shaking his head with a grin. “You must have really missed me.”

You melt a little when he leans in close, his green eyes flicking between yours and then down to your mouth.

“Right?”

You warm and nod quietly, unable to tear your eyes away. 

“ Right. ”

His lips are wonderfully familiar on yours.

You sigh, cupping his face with both hands and breathing him in. When he sets his hands on your waist, his grip is tight, seeking. He pulls you flush to his chest, tilting his head and slotting himself perfectly against you.

“ Missed you ,” He whispers, nipping lightly at your bottom lip. The cold of his lip ring steals a bit of your breath away.

“ I missed you, too, ” You breathe, sliding your hands down his chest to curl under the hem of his t-shirt. And then you pull away with a grimace. “But you are incredibly airport-dirty.”

He lifts a brow, pushing the palms of his hands against your bare thighs and under your bathrobe. You shiver, and he scans you with a knowing smile. “And you’re so incredibly clean?”

“Of course I am,” You argue, barely holding out. “Don’t you see my stupid outfit? I’m bed-ready.”

“Bed-ready,” He repeats with a nod and a smile that causes molten heat to pool just under your navel. “Can I make you more bed-ready?”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his shirt and pulling it clean over his head. “That was corny.” Your voice shakes, betraying how nervous he makes you, after all this time.

Suna says nothing, just leaning down and pushing his lips hard against yours.

You really did miss him.

“Take this off,��� He says, pulling the knot on your robe free and shoving it off of your shoulders. You shed it without a single ounce of resistance, simply too desperate to be close to him.

The cold air makes you shudder, your old camisole and pajama shorts not nearly enough coverage for the air-conditioned apartment. Suna pulls back, scanning you. And then he sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling with a pained smile.

“ This is torture ,” He breathes, and his gaze is heated when he meets your eyes again. “You’re torture.”

“You chose me.” You give him a shallow shrug. “You deal with the consequences.”

He grins easily, backing away to turn the shower on. “With pleasure.” He nods at your clothes before reaching for his belt. “Off.”

With only a bit of hesitation, you pull your cami over your head and toss it on the floor. Suna watches with great attention as you hop off the sink and drop your shorts slowly. When you look back, he’s made no move to undress himself, hands stilled on his belt as his gaze locks on the length of your legs, teeth tugging harshly on his lip ring.

“Distracted?” You tease, stepping free of your clothes and reaching for him. He blinks, swallowing hard as you tug on his belt loops.

“I genuinely can’t remember what I was just doing.”

You giggle to yourself, the clink of his belt echoing in the bathroom as you undo his jeans. “Don’t worry,” You breathe, shivering when his cold hands land on the heated skin of your waist. “I remember enough for both of us.”

His jeans and boxers fall to his ankles, and his head falls back when you wrap your hand very carefully around his cock, already half-hard.

“ Fuck, I missed you,” He groans, head leaned on the wall.

You lean up, pressing your lips to his throat and smiling when a quiet moan falls past his lips.

“ Get in the shower, Rintarou ,” You whisper, stroking him once before stepping away from him.

He shudders and stares up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to regain his bearings.

“Yes, ma’am,” He mumbles, stepping shakily into the glass booth. You follow after, grinning smugly up at him. 

“I think I like when you listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Noted, asshole.”

You giggle together, the moment gentle under the water.

You wash his hair in silence, only sputtering playfully when soap gets in your mouth and laughing into his ear when he drags you close and shoves his shampoo-covered head into your face.

Suna Rintarou makes it as far as combing conditioner through his hair before he stops trying to keep his hands to himself.

You’re scrubbing your body when you feel his fingers dancing across the underside of your breasts.

“Can I help you?” You ask, depositing your loofa back on its hook.

He says nothing, gaze simply tracking the line of soap that falls between your breasts. His eyes flick to yours, green and heated, and it warms something dangerous in you.

He presses you back harshly against the tile, mouth urgent on yours, and you blame the week of  distance for how easily you give in to him.

“Rin,” You whisper, relishing the taste of him after so long apart.

He shivers at the way his name rolls off your tongue, pressed against his.

“ Missed you ,” He mumbles, nudging your thighs apart with his knee. You whimper when he wraps his fingers around the back of your leg, lifting it so he can drag it around his hip. He traps you against the wall, rolling his tongue across yours and moaning in time with you when his cock brushes against your folds.

“ Please, Rin, ” You swallow, latching your fingers into his hair and holding him close.

The sigh he breathes into your mouth when the head of his cock slips past your entrance is depraved, desperate. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he bottoms out, his hips pressed tight against yours.

Quiet envelops you, only your shared, ragged breaths heard under the rush of water. Suna drops his forehead to your shoulder, and you cling to him, fingers tight in his hair. 

“ I love you ,” He murmurs against your throat, sucking the air clean from your lungs.

“I love you, too,” You croak, gasping when he pulls away to press his forehead to yours and draws his hips back. He snaps them forward, and your stomach lurches with pleasure. “Oh, my God, Rin-”

“I love you.” He’s relentless, surging his hips against yours and slamming you back against the wall. You barely manage to hold his gaze, every nerve ending in your body drawn to him. “I think I’ve been in love with you an embarrassingly long time.” 

You swallow a whimper, digging your nails into his back and watching when he shivers. “I love you, Rintarou. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He laughs breathily, eyes searching you. “Promise?”

“‘m not goin’ anywhere, Rin.” Your voice takes on a whiny edge, needy and wanton. “I’ve been yours a long, long time.” 

You keep his eyes on yours, your meaning trapped in the sliver of space between your lips.

That you’ve been his longer than he’d realized. Longer than you’d realized.

That the start of this thing between you had never been the start at all, but the end of something that had been building for longer than either of you had thought.

Suna’s eyes drop to your lips as he sucks in a breath, the next drag of his hips drawing a quiet moan out of you, his mouth brushing against yours as he whispers-

“ Move in with me .”

Your eyes fly open, and the laugh that rips from your throat is full of surprise.

“ What? ” 

His eyes glint with excitement, and he rails his cock into you, pinning your hips to the wall.

“You heard me.”

You throw your head against the wall, laughing gleefully. “You’re fucking insane, Suna Rintarou.”

“Come on, Y/n-” He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, cock twitching inside you. “You basically already live here-”

“That’s different-”

“How?” He pants over you, his breath growing shallow and his pace becoming irregular. “What’s so different?”

“You really want to have this conversation right now-”

He grips your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers, and you fall for him that much more.

“I already have you,” He breathes, eyes glazing over briefly when he drives his cock into you. “I have your clothes in my closet-”

You shudder at the force he’s using, the coil in your navel forming urgently and all at once.

“-I have your shit all over my apartment -”

You think of everything you have here – your paperwork on his dining table, your groceries in his fridge – and realize he’s right.

“-I have you in my bed every night, Y/n,” He gasps when you clench around him, your name coming out in a desperate groan. “I want you here. I want you everywhere. I told you.” 

“ Rin ,” You cry, pulling him close and burying your face in his neck. “Rin, I-”

“Move in with me. Let’s make it official.” He breathes it into your ear, shaky and vulnerable, and you’re dragged to the very edge of oblivion. His hands slide up your spine, drawing you up into him as he whispers against your skin. 

“ Come for me, baby .” 

Oblivion feels a lot like Suna Rintarou.

When you finally come down, minutes later, the shower’s starting to run cold. Suna’s forehead rests against yours, breath mingling in ragged gasps in the space between you. You realize when his shoulders sag with relief that he’d come soon after you had, warm and familiar inside you.

You reach up, cupping his face and bringing him in for a kiss. He smiles against you.

“ Is that a yes? ” He murmurs into your mouth, breathing out a laugh when you nip at his lip ring.

Suna Rintarou has always made everything so easy.

“I suppose it is,” You beam up at him. “I guess I can start using my old rent money to buy more lingerie.”

His smile feels like home.

“Oh, yes,” He nods, reaching back blindly to shut the water off. “Yes, I think I like this idea.”

“Wait-” You laugh, letting him drag you out of the shower. “We’re not done showering-”

He hoists you up with little issue, carrying you down the hall to the bedroom. 

“We’re gonna need another one in a few hours, anyway.”

It becomes quite apparent over the course of the night that Suna likes the lingerie you picked out for him very much . 

–

A week later, you and Osamu close the shop for the entire day in order to set up for Haru’s party. The boy in question tries very hard to help with the organization, but you lock him out just as he’s arriving. He stands at the door like a creep while the two of you and Mayuri run around putting up streamers and decorating tables.

Finally, it’s Osamu who has the bright idea to send Mayuri out there with him.

“Just keep him busy, I’m beggin’ here,” The twin says, ushering the girl out the back entrance so that Haru doesn’t try to elbow his way in through the front. She flushes, and you’re quick to meet Osamu’s eyes, the two of you nothing more than a couple of nosy aunties at heart.

You watch as Mayuri appears behind Haru and awkwardly beckons him out to the street, but it’s Haru’s nervous blush that has you and Osamu scheming about how to get them to admit their feelings almost an hour after they’re gone.

“We could always just lock them in the storage room,” He suggests eventually, and you laugh while unloading bottles of champagne at a table by the window.

“I’m pretty sure that’s considered employer harassment, Samu.”

“Damn.” He shakes his head. “These labor laws are gonna keep them from their happy ending, I swear.”

You cackle, moving to the storage room to find the boxes of champagne flutes he’d ordered. “We should leave them be. They’ll figure it out in their own time.”

“ Ew- ” He calls from the other side of the wall. “ What have you done with my scheming Y/n?”

“She found love and companionship?” You try, digging through packages absentmindedly.

“ Ew! ” 

“Now, now, Samu – be nice or I’ll tell Y/n all of the disgusting, lovesick things you’ve ever said about Yachi. ”

You perk up, Suna’s voice drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

He’s standing at the front door, fending off Osamu’s attack of streamer rolls and party cups.

“Rin,” You breathe, flushing warmly. 

He winks, immediately hit in the side of the head by a rolled up tablecloth. Osamu laughs, reaching for more projectiles while evading the swing Suna’s aimed at him.

“What are you even doing here? Don’t you have a job?”

“I took the afternoon off to help you fucks set up for the party, but instead I find myself being attacked-” He catches Osamu around the neck, and the two almost knock over a few tables on their way to the ground.

You type out a quick text before moving to stack champagne flutes calmly on the other side of the room.

[1:35 PM]

You : our boyfriends are brawling in the store and ruining all the decor

Hitoka : on it

It’s mere moments before the bell above the door is jingling, a tiny blonde there with one hand on her hip and a fiery look in her eye.

“Miya Osamu.”

Osamu rolls off of Suna with the speed of a former athlete, standing at attention. “Hi, babe.” He smiles breathlessly, reaching up to fix his clothes and hair. 

Yachi smiles dangerously back at him. “Are you letting Y/n do all the work for the party?”

He swallows, shaking his head. Suna stands lazily behind him, snickering.

“ Someone’s obedient. ”

You call out from the table without turning back, a smile tugging at your lips as you stack flutes. “Rintarou-”

He’s at your side in an instant. “Hello, my sweet, lovely, perfect girlfriend. How can I help?”

You hand him a pack of tablecloths without a single word, and he rushes off to work. Yachi has Osamu doing the same on the other side of the shop, and you join her at the door with a side hug.

“Thanks for the backup,” You shoot her a stage-whisper, and she giggles back.

“I like being in charge of tall men. They’re afraid of us.”

The boys each groan in despair but continue to decorate nonetheless.

–

The shop is ready a few hours later, catered food set out along the wall and the cafe tables converted into standing cocktail tables. You and Osamu man your individual bars, thankful for the bartending elective you’d taken together in college.

The Black Jackals all pile through the door together, bringing with them some of their own friends. Their manager and coach come, too, smiling at the tasteful MSBY merchandise hanging around the shop.

Under yours and Osamu’s constant updates, Mayuri ensures she and Haru are the last through the door, everyone cheering and clapping for the new MSBY hire as he blushes a deep scarlet. Mayuri starts to move away from him so that the floor is all his, but Haru’s quick to latch onto her hand, dragging her back to him with a shy flick of his eyes to hers.

You meet Osamu’s eyes across the room, and he just nods in approval. Suna materializes behind the bar with you, one hand on your waist.

“He’s really growing up.”

You smile at the pair, watching Haru pull Mayuri around the room with him while he greets people. You remember the day he interviewed for you, freshly 18 and a nervous bounce in his knee. He’s not all that different now. “He’s still a kid, though, don’t you think?”

“Aren’t we all?”

You hum fondly, attention caught by the flash of orange that’s bounding up to the bar.

“Hey, Heartbreaker,” Hinata says, smiling sweetly down at you and leaning across the counter for a hug.

“Shou,” You greet him, squeezing him before pulling back. “Want something to drink?”

“Well,” He laughs. “I was going to ask for a cocktail, but I think I’ll just pour myself some champagne over there.” He gestures back toward the table you’d set up earlier. You blink, confused, and the ginger is glancing with amusement over your shoulder.

You look back, finding Suna leaning conspicuously against the wall and scrolling on his phone. He glances suspiciously at you and then at Hinata, clearly trying not to seem like a possessive boyfriend.

You laugh, rolling your eyes and turning back to your friend. “He’s a grown man, Shou – I promise he’ll be fine.” You take his order and get to making his drink, Hinata walking up and down the bar with you to make conversation.

“Are you upset that we’re stealing Haru from you?”

“Why? You got another part-timer I can hire?”

“Well, uh – I do know someone moving here soon to finish up school.” His flush is bright like his hair, and it gives you pause.

“ Who ?” You ask, a smile tugging at your lips knowingly.

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You know who. There’s a team that wants him, but the coach wants him to get his degree first.”

You furrow a brow. “I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

He nods, taking the drink from you with a smile. “It’s rare, but it happens sometimes. He’s not too happy about it, but…”

“But…” Your smile is back. “I’m guessing his choice of school had a little something to do with one of the current Black Jackals?”

Hinata sips nervously from his drink. “Somethin’ like that.”

You nod, wiping down the bar with feigned disinterest. “And I’m guessing he wouldn’t mind a part-time job across from their home gym?”

The ginger swallows, staring down into his cup as he murmurs again. “ Somethin’ like that .”

You beam at him. “Send him our application.”

He wanders off not long after that, mumbling ‘ Later, Heartbreaker ’ as he goes.

Suna’s at your side instantly. “What was that about?”

You nudge him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “That, my sweet, jealous boy-” You grin when he scowls. “-was about Kageyama Tobio.”

Realization dawns on him, and he breathes out a sigh. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” You laugh. “ Oh . Dumbass.”

He flushes in that way you love so much and gestures across the room to where the twins are bickering at the other bar. “I feel that I am suddenly needed in that general area…”

“Oh, I’m sure,” You laugh, full of endearment as you watch him go.

Your moment of peace lasts about three minutes, interrupted by a flushed, excited Haru.

“Hey, Boss!” He beams at you, only a little shy when you level him with a fond smile.

“Hi, Haru. Enjoying the party?” Your eyes flick to the death grip he still has on Mayuri, their fingers interlocked now. He doesn’t notice, but she does, her ears burning a bright red. You just smile knowingly and turn back to the oblivious boy between you.

“This is completely insane, Boss – The entire team is here! The manager and coach, too! And a bunch of random people who keep saying hi to me!”

You laugh brightly, making them both a cocktail of your choice and watching as they sip at it with enjoyment. “Welcome to the inner circle, Haru.” You cut a glance to the girl at his side. “You know, everyone gets a plus-one…”

Mayuri warms, and Haru sees it now, but only because she’s starting to slip her hand out of his shyly. He turns to her, holding tight and bringing her back.

“You heard her,” He says, looking Mayuri straight in the eye. She stares up at him, caught off guard, and you turn away, giving them a moment while you wipe some clean glasses dry. 

When you turn back, they’re gone again, hands clasped more naturally between them. You shake your head, grinning to yourself while you wash a few more dishes. 

“That was pretty sweet of you.” 

You glance up at the voice, finding an unfamiliar man on the other end of it. He smiles down at you, handsome in a classy way.

“Aw, it’s nothing,” You smile, waving him off. “They’ve been dancing around each other a while – driving me and my co-owner insane.” 

The man laughs, picking up the makeshift cocktail menus you and Osamu had created for the event. He scans it, humming. “Can I get…” He laughs. “Isn’t it supposed to be called a ‘ Sex on the Beach ’?”

You grin, grabbing bottles for the shop’s spinoff – Sex on the Boardwalk – with very little explanation.

“That one was Atsumu’s idea, unfortunately. It’s got about three more types of alcohol than usual.”

The guy nods understandingly. “I’ve only talked to him a few times, but that seems about right.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“Oh, I’m a friend of Bokuto’s,” He says, shrugging. “He saw me struggling at the gym and decided to take me under his wing.”

You glance at the mountain that is Bokuto Koutarou and nod simply. “I would expect nothing less of him.” You see the look he’s giving you, one of intrigue, so you explain. “I grew up with Atsumu and his brother – my co-owner.”

He hums, thanking you as you slide the drink to him. He winces on the first sip. “That’s painful.”

You point at the glass. “Finish that and you won’t remember having sex on a boardwalk, either.”

His laugh is full, warm.

It’s only when he meets your eyes that you realize there’s an odd glint in them. One you’re not used to seeing so genuinely from someone who’s not Suna.

“So, uh…” He starts, taking another sip. “I hope it’s not too forward, but I was wondering-”

Oh.

“-ou’re single…? Or…” 

You blink, surprised. “Oh.”

He blinks back. “Oh?”

“Oh-” You laugh. “Sorry, shit. You caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting that.”

You’re not sure if you should be laughing at the irony of Suna not hovering behind you for the singular time that he really should be, or if you should be cursing Bokuto for continuing to invite random people to these events.

The guy smiles in disbelief. “I’m sure you get it all the time.”

You stare. “Not… really, no?”

“Really?” He furrows a brow. “You’re beautiful.” 

You smile, warm. “Thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

He hears the meaning in what you don’t say – that you don’t flirt back. “Ah, I see-”

“Yeah, that’s-” You look across the room to Suna, finding that he’s already watching you. His eyes are dark, and you realize belatedly that it had taken too long for you to notice this man’s advances.

You give him a look that you hope conveys your innocence and continue to point him out. “That’s my boyfriend right there.”

He follows your gaze, and you watch the glower Suna’s giving you pass over to this poor, unsuspecting man.

“Oh-” He says, laughing nervously. “Damn. I was kinda hoping it wasn’t the scariest guy in the room.”

“Tough luck on that one,” You grin sheepishly. “Maybe if you finish that drink, you won’t remember this moment.”

He throws back half of the drink good-naturedly and then joins your laughter. “Well, please excuse any overstep I might have made. And please tell him not to beat me up.”

“You’re fine,” You wave him off. “It was good to meet you.”

“You, too,” He smiles politely, and then he nods carefully at Suna, who’s starting to make his way over. “He’s a real lucky guy.”

You warm. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

Suna’s in the newly emptied spot before you’re done speaking, his eyes burning holes into the man’s back.

“Hi, my sweet, jealous boy.”

Suna’s eyes are sharp when they find yours.

“Was that also about Kageyama Tobio?”

You throw your head back, laughing, and lean toward him with a grin.

“Would you believe me if I said I had absolutely no idea he was flirting until it was too late?”

He watches you for a moment before sighing, dropping his head with a groan.

“Yes, of course I would. I already knew that.”

You beam up at him. “He said you were a very lucky man, Suna Rintarou.”

His eyes glint with something wicked when he looks at you. “Yeah? Want me to show him how lucky?”

You roll your eyes, leaning away to make him a drink, and Suna watches you for a moment.

“He wasn’t rude or anything, right?”

You glance at him with lifted brows. “Not at all, why?”

“Just checking.” He looks away, and you see him meeting Atsumu and Osamu’s eyes across the room. He nods once, and the twins relax, each returning to their respective partners.

You watch with amazement. “Have you three always been that way?”

“You don’t notice much, do you?”

You suppose you don’t.

–

The next day, you linger outside Suna’s shop nervously, holding a bag of Thai food. You tug nervously at the hem of your dress, adjusting it over and over again while you stand there. 

Suna had bought it for you while on his trip –  a deep green thing that’s silky and snug against your body. It complements his eyes, the color. And, although this is technically your first date with him, this dress is not for the date between the two of you. There’s another one tonight, the triple date organized with all your friends.

Still, you want to look good for Suna on your first date. You want him to think you’re pretty in the dress that he bought you. But as you stand there in it, staring at yourself in the reflection of the window, you still can’t decide if you love how it looks on you – because it’s objectively beautiful and suits you well – or if you hate how it looks, because it’s something you’ve never had the confidence to wear before.

You shift back and forth a few more times, staring at your reflection and tugging at the silk. After a moment, your phone buzzes in your clutch.

[12:54 PM]

Sunarin : you gonna keep standing out there, scaredycat?

Sunarin : or are you gonna let me see you properly

You look at the window in a panic, seeing through it for the first time and realizing that Suna’s perched on the edge of the reception desk, watching you with a fond smile. You swallow, storing your phone away and approaching the shop. You push through the door, the jingle of the bell echoing in the silence around you.

Suna had closed out the shop, giving his artists a paid day off on the condition that they’ll stay far away from the place the whole day. As you walk in, you realize why.

He’d cut all the overhead lights, bathing the room in darkness, and had lit just a few candles around his own station. There’s a table near the client’s chair, two glasses set up next to a chilled bottle of white wine.

Suna’s still seated on the reception desk, dressed in classy black slacks with a black button down tucked into them, sleeves rolled past his elbows. His tattoos, piercings, and that little bracelet of yours all stand out on his skin.

“Hi,” You breathe, wobbling once in your heels as you make your way to him.

“Hi, beautiful.” His eyes trail down the length of your dress, twinkling with amazement. “You look…” 

You smooth out the silk again nervously. “Is it okay?”

“Okay…?” He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

You warm, holding out the bag of food. “I’m a little scared we’re gonna get food on our clothes.”

He grins, setting it on the desk. “Luckily, you have a boyfriend who thinks of everything.”

“Do I?” You joke, looking around. “Is he here with us?”

Suna just takes your hand, leading you to his office. There are a couple pairs of sweats and some t-shirts on his couch, things that you know he wouldn’t mind getting dirty. You stare down at them, impressed. And then you look down at yourself.

“I won’t lie to you – I’m not sure I’ll be able to get this back on if I take it off right now.”

He just rolls his eyes and helps you undress, hanging the dress carefully behind the door before following suit. You kick off the heels and pull on his spare clothes, careful not to mess up your hair or makeup. 

Suna looks at you just as he had when you’d walked in.

“What?” You laugh, eyeing him.

“Nothing,” He starts, shaking his head. “Just wondering how you’re still the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, shut up,” You roll your eyes with a giddy smile. “Are you gonna tattoo me or not?”

That catches his attention, and he throws his own shirt on haphazardly before dragging you out to his station. You settle in while he grabs the food and brings it back, setting it up and dropping a container of food down into your lap.

“I thought it would be good if you watched me do mine first, so you know what to expect,” He starts, taking a seat and wheeling to his cart of ink and needles. “But that means you’re on lunch duty.”

“Is that right?” You laugh, uncapping the plate in your lap and preparing a spoonful of curry for him. “Better get started then. I’ve got my job down perfectly.” You spoon it into his mouth, but a bit falls to his knee. He just glares up at you while you eye him sheepishly. 

“Yeah. Real perfect.”

You laugh, settling in to watch him do what he does every day.

You eat quietly while he lays the stencil of the Inarizaki fox over a blank spot on his inner wrist. It’s a very simple line tattoo – he hadn’t wanted to do anything complicated for your first, so it’s very much just a small sketch of a fox, similar to the one he’d done on that napkin at the convention.

“Shouldn’t take more than an hour each,” He mumbles, peering at the stencil in the reflection of a nearby mirror, making sure it’s lined up where he wants it. “Should also hurt less, since there’s no shading or extended time under the needle.”

You nod, feeding him carefully as he draws his tools out and gets to work.

It’s amazing, watching him get lost in his own art.

He’d always been good at it, always talented. But you’d only really witnessed a handful of times when he would bow his head and refuse to come up for air, too focused on what he’s doing to speak more than a few words. He glances up every few moments, but only to look at the mirror, only to check his own work.

He’s done with his own tattoo in just over 20 minutes. 

You stare down at the ink, freshly etched and surrounded by a thin layer of red, the irritation in his skin minimal after years of practice.

“How’s that?” He asks, staring down at it directly and then again in the mirror.

“That’s so cool,” You whisper, leaning toward it. “You just created that from nothing.” When he doesn’t respond, you glance up, finding a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. “You created something that’ll be on your skin forever.”

He smiles down at you, genuine and small. “I s’pose so.” He looks you over, looks at the twinkle in your eye. “Still wanna do this?”

You laugh, nodding. “Of course I do. I want you to create something for me, too.”

He rolls his eyes, cheeks warm, and leans forward to plant a kiss on your head as he stands to clean up. “Let’s finish eating first.”

You watch him wrap his tattoo carefully, a small square of plastic taped meticulously around his wrist. And then he settles back next to you, sighing as you feed him. He reaches for the two wine glasses, pouring small portions. 

“Just a little. ‘s not good to drink before getting tattooed.”

You nod, only taking a few sips before setting it down. “Have you wanted to tattoo me a long time?”

He smiles, breathing out a laugh as he eats. “Since college.”

“Really? You never told me.”

He shrugs. “Figured if you wanted one, you’d come to me.”

You smile teasingly. “What if I’d gone to someone else?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “You would never. That’s against the rules.”

You laugh, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I’d never thought about getting one before you brought it up.” You prod carefully at his lip ring and the multitude of ear piercings. “I’ve never thought about getting any of this done.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” You shrug. “I always thought those were things that would look bad on me. Because they only look good on pretty people.”

He lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah-” You gesture to him. “-I always had the evidence right next to me.”

“I think you’d look great with piercings,” He argues. “You’d look really hot with a nose piercing.” He straightens and claps his hands. “Let me pierce you.”

You laugh, pushing him away. “Maybe for our second date-” You level him with a stern look when he starts to get excited. “ Maybe , Rintarou.”

“Alright, alright,” He sighs, giving in. And then he looks you over, glancing behind him at the second stencil. “Shall we?”

A shock of nerves runs through you, but you’re more excited than anything else. Excited to have Suna’s art on your body, proud that everyone will see it.

“I’m ready.”

He cleans up lunch while you examine your body, trying to decide where to get it.

“And I can’t get it on my wrist, too?”

“ No ,” He calls from the back. “ It’ll hurt too much. ”

“But you got it on your wrist!”

“ One of us has twenty-two tattoos, my love, and it’s not you. ”

“Hm,” You respond stubbornly, examining other places. “What about here?” You ask when he returns. You point at your left forearm, just under your elbow.

Suna hums, weighing the decision. “I suppose that’s not the worst spot.”

You beam up at him. “I’ve decided.”

“I think it’s me who decided.”

“ We’ve decided.”

Suna just laughs, settling down into the chair with the stencil. “Okay, baby – we decided. Hold out your arm.”

You watch him work, careful and quiet like he’d been with his own. He lays the stencil flat, spreading the little fox drawing over your forearm before pulling away so you can see. You investigate the little purple sketch, loving how it looks on you already.

“Perfect,” You breathe, smiling lovingly down at him. He grins back before turning to his station. He sets up a needle, testing it quickly before turning back to you. 

“It’s gonna hurt, so just tell me when you want to take a break, okay? Breaks are completely normal.”

“You didn’t take any breaks,” You argue.

“Do you want to count my tattoos, babe?” He smiles innocently when you scowl at him, and then he bows his head low, eyes serious.

It’s not the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, but you ask for a break after five minutes. You sigh when the buzz of the needle quiets.

“That was pretty good – look how much I got done.” 

You stare down at the half-done fox on your arm, seeing that he’d gotten a large portion of the outside drawn. There’s significantly more red skin than he’d had, but you know he’ll just obnoxiously start counting his many tattoos if you point it out.

“Feelin’ alright?” He asks, gauging your pain levels by the pinch of your brows. You nod, staring down at the half-purple fox. That tinge of excitement is back – the one that’s ready to show the world how much of a mark Suna Rintarou has left on your life.

“I’m ready to start again.”

Suna smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before bowing his head again.

You end up taking just one more break, ten minutes later, and then – before you realize it – he’s pressing cold plastic against your arm, wrapping the tattoo with care.

“Not so bad, huh?” He asks, taping it down gently. You lift your arm to your face, examining the black ink in your skin. 

You beam up at him, overwhelmed by the permanence of it. “It’s so pretty.”

Suna blinks down at you, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will you do more?”

He laughs, nodding. “Of course I will. I’ll do anything you want.”

You pass a finger over the plastic, noting that it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. When you glance up at him again, you take him in properly – this man with his striking piercings and countless tattoos, years of dedication to his work present on his own body.

Present on your body, now, too.

You look him over, suddenly entranced by him. 

“Anything?”

He narrows his eyes, looking you over with suspicion. “...Yes?”

You glance toward the shop windows, deciding that they’re simply too close. You stand from the chair, taking him by the hand and leading him to his office.

It’s only when you shut the door that he speaks again.

“Why do I get the feeling that this has nothing to do with the tattoo?”

You walk him to the couch and promptly shove at his chest, watching him fall to the cushion with a light ‘ oof ’.

“It has everything to do with the tattoo.”

And then you drop to your knees in front of him.

Suna’s eyes go wide, and he sits up a bit straighter. “Y/n-”

“Can I thank you? For the tattoo?” You spread your fingers out over his thighs, sliding them carefully toward his hips.

He swallows, watching the path you take. “Would this be a really bad time to tell you that this was one of my college fantasies, too…?”

You stop short, staring up at him with parted lips. “Really?”

“I had a very active imagination in college.”

You laugh in disbelief, the sound growing into something much larger as you lean your head on his knee. “You’re insane-”

“Is the moment gone? Have I lost my chance?” He’s clearly joking, but you can hear the slight disappointment in his tone, so you shake your head.

“Never.” You hook your fingers into his waistband. “Now take these off before I lose my nerve.”

“ Yes, ma’am ,” He breathes, lifting his hips. You smile up at him.

“So obedient lately.”

“I’ve always been obedient – you’re just oblivious.” He laughs nervously, but you hear the truth in it once more. That he’d always been beside you, always been yours – just as you’d always been his.

You only get his sweats down to his knees, losing your patience. 

Sitting up, you take his cock in your hand, stroking gently while Suna lets his head fall back against the couch.

“ Shit ,” He breathes, laughing quietly. “I’m never gonna get used to this.”

“Good,” You laugh, leaning forward and licking a slow stripe up the shaft. “I like you like this.” You take the head of it into your mouth, sucking carefully. Suna moans loudly, tangling his fingers in your hair and gripping tight at the back of your head.

You bring him close to the edge just like that, taking him slowly to the back of your throat before pulling off, your hands stroking the rest of him with ease. He twitches and groans under you, the muscles in his arm straining as he holds the back of your head. Your name falls from his lips repeatedly, a breathy whisper for some and a needy moan for others.

Finally, he tightens his hold on your hair and pulls you off of him with a shaky groan. You blink up at him, teary-eyed, and give him a noise of confusion. He heaves out a sigh, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I don’t wanna come in your mouth,” He breathes heavily, eyes screwed shut. “I’ll mess up your makeup.”

You smile fondly up at him, already feeling your mascara smear on your cheeks. “I think it’s a little late for that, baby.”

He peers down at you, a choked laugh in his throat when he sees the state of you. “Still. I don’t wanna make it worse.”

You give him a shy grin, already crafting a better way to do this.

“That’s alright,” You say, rising just long enough to shed your sweats and underwear. He watches your panties slide down your thighs with rapt interest. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, still distracted. “So do I, suddenly.”

When you clamber into his lap, straddling both sides of his thighs, he groans quietly. His hands find your waist, guiding you carefully to him. He lets his fingers find their way back into your hair, tangled and drawing you in for a kiss as you’re sinking down onto him.

“ Fuck, ” He murmurs into your mouth, rocking his hips back and forth. You shiver at the feeling but put your hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I got it,” You whisper when he blinks up at you in confusion. It turns to surprise in an instant, and his eyes track your expression. 

“You sure?”

You’ve been in this position before, countless times. You’ve occupied his lap more than you’re probably comfortable with, but you’d never once taken control here. You’d always left it in his eager hands, burying your face in his neck and letting him do as he pleased. You’d never been ready to ride him, not really – you’d been worried about too much.

Yet here you are, not a single question lingering in your eyes.

You just smile down at him, nodding as you lift up onto your knees. Suna’s eyelashes flutter when you do.

“Yeah, Rin,” You breathe, sinking back down onto him. A needy whine falls past his lips, his hold on your waist tightening. You beam, overwhelmed with satisfaction that you’re the one to make him like this.

“ I got it .” 

Suna Rintarou doesn’t last long like this, you realize.

His hands shake on your skin, fingers dancing from your waist to your thighs and back without reserve. His eyes are locked tight on yours, lips parted as broken moans build in his throat. His chest heaves with every drop of your thighs back onto his, and your name pushes from his mouth into yours with every desperate kiss.

“ Y/n, I’m -” He breathes after only a few minutes, fingertips digging into your thighs. “ I’m gonna -”

You drop your mouth to his throat, sucking lightly and panting a response into his ear.

“ Thank you for the tattoo, Rin. ”

Suna’s groan echoes off the walls of his office, arms curled tight around you as his back arches up into yours. You feel him twitch and spill into you, and you follow soon after, whining into the crook of his neck as the world goes white.

His fingers are combing gently through your hair and his mouth is pressing careful kisses into your skin when you come back to him. 

“ Hi, beautiful ,” He murmurs against your shoulder, and you lift your head slowly to look down at him.

“Was that okay?” You ask, breathless. He just grins back, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“That was-” He shakes his head, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes while he laughs. “That was the most intense orgasm of my entire life.”

“Really?” You giggle, shifting slightly on top of him and smiling when he tenses.

“I don’t even think I have words to describe what that was like.”

“Good,” You say, leaning down to kiss him. But his hands tighten around you when you move to lean away.

“What time is it?” He asks.

You furrow a brow, straining to glance at the clock on the wall. “3:30.”

“And what time is dinner?”

You turn to look at him with suspicion. “6. Why ?”

He just shoots you a wicked grin. “No reason.”

He’s climbing between your legs before you can even realize he’d flipped you onto your back.

–

When you arrive at the restaurant a few hours later – an upscale spot that Atsumu and Sakusa frequent – your reapplied makeup is still setting and your skin is still warm from making extensive use of Suna’s office couch.

He leads you by the waist into the restaurant, holding you close while the hostess leads you to a private room in the back. Both twins and their partners are already there, making your arrival of 6:03 PM so much more suspicious than it should.

“First date went well, I take it?” Atsumu asks immediately, and you take the seat next to him with a subtle glare.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think he’s talking about your tattoos!” Yachi exclaims, pointing with wonder to the plastic wrapped around both of your arms.

You breathe a laugh, nodding and showing the art to Osamu and Sakusa. Atsumu just sips at his wine, mumbling under his breath.

“Your skin’s glowing, babe. New bronzer?”

You nudge him hard, smiling shyly when Suna catches your eye across the table. He’s talking quietly with Osamu, pointing at different items on the menu, but his eyes stay on yours.

You look away, smiling to yourself, and find both Sakusa and Atsumu staring at you with knowing eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” You grumble, flipping pages in the menu.

The dinner passes with no more mention of it, the six of you enjoying good food and good wine while you talk about upcoming games and different life events.

“So, uhm-” Suna clears his throat finally, tapping a finger almost nervously on the side of his glass. “I have a slight announcement.”

You blink at him, confused. He hadn’t mentioned making any announcements to you.

Atsumu claps obnoxiously. “You’re proposing!”

Your stomach flips dangerously, and you meet Suna’s eyes across the table.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

Your nerves flutter at the implication.

“And when I do propose,” He argues, pointing between Atsumu and his brother. “It’ll be nowhere near the two of you.”

Osamu gives him an irritating wink while Atsumu whines about trustworthiness, but they both sober quickly when Suna clears his throat again.

“Well, we talked about this already- you and me-” He meets your eyes before letting them fall again to his lap. “But I thought it’d be good to uh…”

He reaches into his pocket, extracting a small box. You know now not to expect a ring box – though the thought of eventually getting one makes your heart swell with love – but you don’t expect it to be a flat, rectangular thing.

He passes it across the table to you, and you take it with slightly trembling fingers. 

“We talked about…” You have a feeling you know what this is now, but the weight of the moment makes it almost feel like more than it had before. It feels real, like there’s no room for doubt or concern left anywhere in what you have with him.

Here, at a table full of all your closest friends – at a table with the twins, who had been with you since the very beginning – Suna Rintarou makes it official.

There’s a key inside, attached to a key ring with a charm in the shape of a cup of coffee.

You meet Suna’s eyes, your own prickling slightly with tears.

Yachi smacks Osamu on the shoulder a few times. “Oh, I love this-”

Atsumu leans back toward Sakusa, whispering annoyingly. “ You’re next, fucker. ”

“Rin,” You say, smiling brightly at him. He sighs in relief, rubbing at his brow.

“Is that a yes?”

You laugh. “I already said yes last time.”

“I know but,” He laughs sheepishly to himself. “That wasn’t exactly, uh… a clear-headed agreement.”

You laugh loudly, Osamu’s noise of disgust and Atsumu’s cheerful ‘ Woo! ’ echoing through the room. Yachi comes around the table to tackle you in a tight hug, and Sakusa pours drinks for the group to celebrate.

These people here now – celebrating this milestone of your relationship with Suna Rintarou – are the same who help carry your boxes through the door of his apartment two months from now. The same who stand at your wedding, two years from now (Atsumu stubbornly in a bridesmaid’s dress and Osamu just beside Suna – brothers chosen, not born). The same who bicker quietly outside your hospital room, not too many years after that – Sakusa just inside, crying softly into his sleeve as he stares down at a baby boy named Kiyoomi, a baby boy that has positively no clue he’s about to be raised by six of the most unruly humans to ever meet.

By two parents who, once upon a time, were nothing more than a boy and a girl walking silently to school together.

[atzaurora]

╰┈➤ sᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] s𝗍ᥱᥲmᥡ sᥱrᥱᥒі𝗍ᥡ

❥ 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓: Yunho

➤ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: fem!reader x yunho

➤ 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: imagine (smut)

➤ 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑: dating

.ᐟ.ᐟ𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.ᐟ.ᐟ: 18+/smut/suggestive content, MDNI!!! handjob, bathtub sex, m receiving, oral sex, a bit of tongue play

➤ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: inspiration || Taking a bath with Yunho and you end up giving him a hand job in the bathtub...

➤ 𝒘/𝒄: 622

➤ 𝒂/𝒏: I got the idea to write this fanfic based on the audio so go listen to that if you want!! enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]!

[𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here!

about me, my writings, request rules [𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆]!

The water surface formed inviting bubbles, the light dimly lit and the air smelling like fresh roses. The perfect bath for your taste.

Yunho walked into the bathroom behind you, only a towel wrapped around his waist. He slung his arms around your body, kissing your cheek from behind.

"Come on, baby," he spoke softly, spinning you around so you were facing him. His eyes wandered down your body, his hands following and undoing the knot of your bathrobe.

The fabric slipped down, pooling around your feet. He smiled, kissing your neck gently. Your hands roamed over his abs, reaching the towel and wrapping it off.

He began kissing you deeper, more passionately, both of your bodies pressed against one another. You noticed him becoming hard with every passing second. "Let's get in the bath, love." You murmured between kisses.

He agreed, helping you inside, seating you between his legs. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his tip slightly grazing your lower back.

You leaned your back against him and he stroked your hair while pressing soft kisses against your jaw. "You look beautiful," he whispers into your ear. Your face pulls itself into a small smile, turning your head around to kiss him on the lips.

Yunho kisses you back, his hands resting on your neck, pulling you as close to his face as possible. You shift your body around so you're facing him fully and groan as his hands grip your ass.

"Y/N~," he groans into the kiss when he feels your finger wandering over his torso. "Mhm, what is it baby?," you ask, knowing exactly that he was getting turned on.

"Ugh— please, babe..." He flashes you a pleading look and you chuckled softly. "Need me so badly, huh? Fine, lean back." You push his body back by his shoulders, your fingers wrapping around his member, pumping your fist up and down.

Yunho threw his head back, moaning in pleasure and digging his fingers into your thigh. "Enjoying it, love?" You look into his eyes and his only response was another grunt.

You stopped your movements, raising an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Yunho, you can do better. Tell me how much you like my pretty fingers wrapped around your cock," you urged him, not continuing to jerk him off till he said it out loud.

"Fuck— Yes, I like it so much, love it. I— ugh, please, love, I need your hands so bad," he whimpered, pressing a kiss on top of your hand. With a satisfied look on your face you began moving your hand again.

Immediately he rolled his eyes back, his hands gripping your thigh like his life depended on it. You jerked him off faster and harder, using both of your hands for his long dick.

His voice was raspy whenever he groaned sweet nothings into your ear, praising you on how good your handjob was. You leaned over without stopping your hands and smashed your lips on his own. He pulled you further into him, groaning against your lips when your fist moved faster.

"Ahh~ I'm close, I'm close," he blabbered, his cock twitching in your grip. You smirked, leaning down and licking his tip with your tongue. He moaned, this simple action bringing him over the edge.

His liquid leaked out, squirting on your tongue and cheek before mixing with the water surrounding the two of you.

"God, Y/N, you're so good," he praised you yet again, kissing you and tasting himself off your tongue.

You continued kissing him more until you pulled back again. "Let's enjoy this bath a little more, the water will get cold." You leaned against him once more, resting your head against his chest.

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXI

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: It seems like you are walking toward your happy ending. I really liked this chapter, it was smoothing to write. I hope you will enjoyed it as well. Just pure fluff and... cute intimity.

“ No, don’t go yet…”

You were laying on your bed as Alastor was preparing to leave. He was sitting on your bed, your back toward you, thinking you were sleeping. You sat up, hugging from behind, kissing his cheek. The sun was barely up, he could stay a little longer with you, couldn’t he? You placed your chin against his shoulder, smiling tiredly at him as he turned his gaze toward you with a fond gaze. 

It’s been a few days since you killed Larry. Alastor had talked about it on the radio which made a big buzz. He had a way of talking about it, narrating in a way that everyone was calling the radio station to talk with Alastor and ask him questions. No one was thinking he was the killer, he was always saying someone from the police told him the information. Of course, it didn’t please the officers on the case, but Alastor was beginning to be untouchable. Yesterday, he had dinner with the Mayor, Alyzée’s father, and from what he told you, it went well. You knew he was hiding something because he seemed happier than usual.

“ I need to leave earlier today.” He kissed your nose but he let you tug him back into bed. You smiled as you laid on his body, resting your head near his neck. You could still see some hickeys and bite marks on his skin which pleased you greatly. You hummed when you felt his arms wrapped around you, caressing your naked back. You could almost fall back asleep but you did not want to waste those precious moments with Alastor.

“ I can’t wait to be married and wake up everyday with you by my side…” you smiled, nuzzling against his neck. You heard him chuckled, brushing your hair with his fingers. 

“ You won’t have to wait anymore…” 

You lifted your head up but he kissed you softly on your lips. You closed your eyes as he gently turned you over on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him, breaking contact for two seconds before diving once more on each other's lips. You giggled against his lips as you felt his hands tickle you slightly. He kissed you with a big smile on his face as you began to trashed underneath him.

“ Hush, we wouldn’t want your parents to wake up, right?”

You chuckled as you held his hand with yours. Your parents didn’t know Alastor would sneak into your home so you could have your usual sleepover. Sometimes you would just gossip about what was going on in town. Some other time you would just lay in the bed, reading a book while Alastor was working on his note for his next broadcast. Of course, sometimes you would tease him, or he would tease you building on tension but you never did anything more than preliminary in your own house. 

You would sometimes, like right now, sleep naked next to Alastor, he always liked seeing you like this. Sometimes it wasn’t even sexual, he would just appreciate your beauty which always flustered you. When he was feeling good enough, he would sleep shirtless but it wasn’t often. You never were mad at him for that, you would cuddle happily next to him.

“ Can I take a shower with you then?” you caressed his cheek, smiling as you looked at him tilting his head against your hand. You didn’t want to force him, you knew he liked his space so you always asked if he was okay with you being here. You didn’t think you ever heard him saying no to you…

“ Of course.” He kissed the palm of your hand before standing up, tugging you against him as he saw you shivering because of the cold. He took your bathrobes before you walked into the bathroom. You quickly turned on the water, waiting for it to get hotter. You turned your head toward Alastor who began to undress himself. You didn’t know why but you flushed and looked away.

Now that you think about it, you have never really seen Alastor naked. He always had his pants on.. You  walked under the showerhead, closing your eyes, trying to calm yourself. You didn’t why, you felt giddy. You tilted your head backward as you felt the hot water on your body before smiling as you felt his arms around your waist. 

You turned your head toward him and chuckled as his hair was beginning to get wet, the curls beginning to appear. You took a bottle of shampoo and softly massage Alastor’s head, beaming as you saw him close his eyes, his body relaxing.  You played with his hair, trying to make horns with the bubbles. 

“ Are you having fun?” he teased you, opening one eye to stare at you.

You nodded with a happy grin, before he spinned you around, taking the bottle from your hand and began to wash your hair. You sighed in bliss as you felt his skillful fingers moving against the roots of your hair. You smiled, you felt like melting. You were feeling so good… You opened one eye when you felt him play with the bubbles on your head. You looked in the mirror in front of the shower and quietly laughed as you saw the bubbles horns on your head.

“ Don’t we look amazing?” you laughed.

“ Always.” he kissed your forehead with a soft smile.

You looked at his hands as he gently cleaned your body. Of course, it was Alastor, so he couldn’t help but pinched your skin from time to time, making you yelp. You watched as his hands moved on your legs, your belly, your arms.. You shivered, it was so intimate you could almost feel yourself tearing up. You turned toward him, with a shy smile.

“ Can I do the same?” 

He looked at you, staying silent for almost a whole minute before nodding. You took some soop before gently cleaning his body. You began with his shoulder, moving around his scars, sometimes kissing them before putting soop on it. You smiled when you realized that not even once, Alastor’s body tensed. He was just watching you curiously. At the end, you couldn’t help but kiss him quickly on the lips.

You both had grown so much.

You both washed up before stepping out of the bathtub. You yelp as Alastor trapped you with his arms, kissing your cheek before tousling your hair with a towel. You laughed as you tried to run away but you couldn’t escape Alastor’s arms.

He kissed you, surely to make you shut up. You bit his lips, chuckling before he let you go. You stood in front of the mirror and began to brush your hair. You watched as Alastor was drying his curly hair. He took one curl in his finger with a grimace.

You chuckled before motioning to come closer. He walked toward you and you began to brush his wet hair back. You let one curly hair in front of his forehead, smiling at him. He rolled his eyes at you but you couldn’t help but notice the fond smile on his lips.

Were your married days going to be like this?

You walked out of the bathroom once you finished with Alastor’s hair. He was beginning to dress up as you sat in front of your vanity. It was still early in the morning, but you were now awake, so why not drop by at Alice’s ? 

“ Have you seen my watch, dearest?”

You looked around as you tried to put your hair in a ponytail. You stood up, searching for the watch. Most of the time, Alastor would put it on your nightstand before going to bed. You looked behind the furniture and smiled when you saw the watch. You would have to clean behind it… You made a movement with your hand, and the watch flew toward you. You smirked before turning to Alastor who was looking at you with an amused smirk.

“ Are you enjoying yourself?” He taunted you.

You nodded before telekinized the watch toward his face. You frowned when his shadow caught it before handing it to Alastor, smiling mockingly at you. You stuck your tongue to the shadow who rushed toward you, touching your ankle, with a  big smile. You turned your head, ignoring it but yelped when you felt it pinch your leg. You looked at it before sighing and smiled at it. His grin became hideous once more before going back to Alastor.

“ Not fast enough, dear.” he mocked you before going in front of the mirror to rearrange his tie. You followed him, hugging him from behind and watched as both of your eyes were red, now going back to their usual color.

“ I’ll surprise you.. Be careful.” you pouted.

“ You always surprise me.” He smirked at you before turning around. “ I shall come back tonight with a surprise. Be nice.” He kissed the top of your head.

You looked at him, curiously. A surprise? You bit your lips, you shall play nice for now. No questions would be asked, after all you would have all the answers tonight, right? He leaned toward you, kissing your lips with a hand on your waist. You sighed in bliss as he stepped back, winking at you before leaving by the window. You walked toward the window and watched him as he bowed to you before leaving.

You rolled your eyes with a dumb smile. You didn’t know what to do with yourself when you were feeling this happy. You walked downstairs, relieved to see your mother leaving her room, half-asleep.

“ Oh, sweetie. You’re up early, aren’t you?” she yawned while tying her night robe. You hugged her with a big teasing smile.

“ Or you are up late?” you avoided her tap with a laugh. You made breakfast while talking with your mother. She was praising you, saying you looked more beautiful each day. You blushed a little but had a happy smile on your lips. You were almost 22 years old, you were an adult, ready to be married in three months with Alastor, did happiness make people prettier?

You stayed with your mother until noon when the telephone rang. You stood up from the sofa and took the call.

“ Yes?”

“ Come to my home, now. It’s urgent.”

You looked at the telephone as Alice hung up on you. You felt fear enter your body. Did somebody find clues about your hobbies? You said goodbye to your mother before dashing toward Alice’s house. 

Once you made it, you knocked on the door, greeted the butler and ran toward the living room where Alice was pacing while biting her nail. You walked toward her and took her by the shoulder, trying to control your rising panic.

“ What?” you shouted, breathing hard.

“ You need to sit down!” She pushed you on the couch with a big smile. She sat next to you, giving you a glass of wine. “ Alastor went to dinner with Alyzée’s father, right? Of course, you knew that, but did you know what they talked about?” she was practically bouncing on the sofa. “ Alyzée told me Alastor asked for your marriage to be done before the three months! You don’t have to wait three months to be married!  Alyzée’s father accepted!” she shook you by the shoulders.

You were going to be married… You didn’t have to wait while fearing John might find something on you. You stared at Alice, the wine moving with the force she had while shaking your shoulders.

“ And furthermore ! She didn’t really understand all of it but John is called off the case because he entered Alastor’s domain without a warrant!” She screamed, delighted.

Alastor blamed John for the beartrap to the mayor. John was not on the case anymore. You were free to be married.

You didn’t know you could scream with such joy without Alastor present but you stood up, took Alice’s hands in yours and began to jump around the room. You were getting married! You were getting married! 

You took your glass of wine and drank it with a big smile. You were finally free from Alastor’s father’s disappearance looming on you. You both were screaming like teenage girls. The butler came in with a subtle smile when he saw you both screeching in joy. He put another bottle of wine next to the full one, he must expect you to drink to the happy new.

“ Oh my gosh, Alice..! This.. Finally, I’m..!” you tried your best to calm yourself down. Was that the surprise Alastor had for you tonight? You bit your lips, bouncing on the sofa.  You wanted to see him badly. You took a look at Alice’s radio, well, if you couldn’t see him, maybe hearing him would appease you.

You turned on the radio and smiled widely as you heard the voice of your soon to be husband. You sat next to Alice, beginning to talk about where the reception should be.  You were wondering where your honeymoon would be. You wanted to go somewhere where it was hot, you couldn’t stand winter any longer.

You both jerked your head toward the radio as noise could be heard.

“ Alastor, you bastard!” you heard from the radio. It seemed like they were a big commotion. It sounded like John’s voice…?

“ Well, ladies and gentlemen, please, welcome John Felleur, an officer from the police of New Orleans. Let the lad take place.” you heard Alastor amused voice, not even bothered that his emission has been disturbed by John. “ Well, what can I do for you, officer ?”

“ I have been taken away from the case because of you! You knew I would find dirt on you.” you heard John shout. You heard Alice swear before hearing the crowd making an “ Oouh.” sounds. It seemed like Alastor wasn’t bothered at all by John's statement.

“ Oh yes. You must have heard it, folks, but my father has gone missing. The one on the case was no one but the successful John Felleur. The man has been on my back since then, slavery is abolished you know?” you heard the audience’s laugh. You turned your head toward Alice who was smirking at the radio. You chuckled, she liked drama.

“ Because I know you have something to do with it. Just like last week’s fire, I’m sure I saw you there. You, fucker, have been manipulating everyone around you and now you wished to get married? You even took her away while I could be–”

“ Ooh.. Is John insecure, pursuing allure? Fitting between my father’s case and the hotel’s one, is nothing working?”

“ You–!”

“ Every day, he’s got a new failure!”

“ You’re looking at justice! He is the one behind all of it!”

“ Is John as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support? He’d be powerless without his family’s name. And here’s the sugar on the cream. He asked my fiancée to be his wife.”

“ Hold on!”

“ She said no, and now he’s pissy, that’s the tea!” Alastor’s laughter echoed into the living room as Alice and you clapped while laughing. As always, Alastor had a way with words that could destroy anyone.

“ Alastor !” you heard John shout. “ I’m not weak. You can’t kill me!”

“ I’ll make you wish I would, my dear friend.” Alastor laughed.

“ I don’t bend to no one.” he spat.

“ Be careful, what doesn’t bend usually breaks.” Alastor hummed. “ Well, folks. I shall leave you, as you can see, I’ll need to have a little chat with our rude friend.  It will be fun.” he chuckled before you heard his coworker’s voice through the radio.

“ Oh, John is done for!” Alice laughed, raising her glass in the air. “ Even his family won’t be able to do anything to save him.” 

You smirked as you drank from your glass. As expected from Alastor, he was a killer, no matter how, he would destroy his victims, leaving nothing left. As Alice stood up, saying she needed to go to the bathroom, you closed your eyes. 

You desperately wanted to be close to Alastor right now. You bit your lips, perhaps…?

You relaxed your body, rooting your feet on the ground.

Papa Legba.

Yes, little lady?

Can I have a spirit which could… Do like Alastor’s shadow? I just want him to feel me near him.

Mhn.. I could send your soul, making your body like you were in a trance.

Would he feel me?

Yes. Just like you can feel his shadow, I don’t think you will be able to touch human being though. 

Then, please, let’s do it.

Of course, don’t forget the rooster.

You felt like you were being slowly pulled out from your body. You looked around, you were floating in the air with a red thread connecting you to your body. You looked at your finger where there was a thread barely visible, you almost didn’t see it. It looked red too but it was going away from your body. Was it showing you where was Alastor?

You followed the thread, flying above New Orleans. It was strange, it was like everything was a dream. You floated through the wall and smiled when you saw Alastor talking with two policemen and John. Only Alastor’s voice was clear, you couldn’t really understand the other voice. You came closer and tried to take Alastor’s hand with yours but your hand passed through him.

You looked at him as he turned his eyes toward you. Was he aware you were here? He looked at his hand then to the policemen. 

Dang it.

You looked down and smiled when you saw his shadow waving at you. You waved at it and tried to ask him if it could help you showing your presence to Alastor. You didn't know why but you couldn't use your voice. The shadow stared at you, tilting its head.

You sighed before watching as Alastor went back to his office. You followed him and looked around, it was the first time you saw his workplace. He sat on his chair and sighed.

“ Those fuckers…” he passed his hands on his face before looking at his notes. You looked at the desk with so many notes. Nothing changed from your youngest years. You smiled softly as you walked around and without noticing it you brushed a sheet of paper that felt on the ground. You looked at it, Alastor was reading notes, not caring about his surroundings.

You smirked.

You walked toward him and threw the notes away.

Alastor jerked up, standing from his chair as he looked at his notes being spread in the air before falling to the ground. He looked at his shadow which was laughing at him.

Come on Alastor, concentre!

You took some of his note and began to fold it, writing your name with it. You smiled widely before turning to Alastor, his eyes red. He came closer and read what the notes were saying.

“ Darling?”

You clapped your hands together before floating around his head. It was funny being the one in control, you understood why Alastor liked it so much. You took the note, writing with the paper a ‘yes’. You watched as Alastor’s body relaxed before sitting back on his chair.

“ This is really impressive.” he smirked, clapping while looking around him before staring in your direction. Was he able to see you now? You moved closer toward you, your hand close to his cheek. “ Your hand is next to my face right? Your energy has always been warm…” he sighed with a soft smile. “ Why are you here, dearest? Have you heard our dear John coming to my show? What a performance, right?” he laughed as you grinned next to him.

You took a sheet of paper and waved it enthusiastically. He grinned at the piece of paper before crossing his arm on his chest.

“ But you didn’t just come here for that, right? You must have gone to Alice, who told you what my dinner with Alyzée’s father was about.” he smirked as you waved once again the paper. You moved the paper everywhere, showing your joy. “ Of course, she did. Well, it seems like the cat is out of the bag now. I, indeed, asked the mayor to marry us as soon as possible and then they could go back to the case.”

You moved your paper, trying to ask why he accepted them to continue the case.

“ You must wonder why? Because, my dear, it would be suspicious of me to call off the investigation. I just said to the mayor I wanted to get married to the woman of my life, I didn’t want my father’s disappearance to be a burden for our family. He accepted easily.” He smirked. “ I’ve been friends with his daughter for years now, and he seemed to like my radio podcast. I didn’t want to mingle with politics but if it can help us…” He stood up from his chair, walking toward you.

You were beginning to feel lightheaded. 

“ Darling, you should go back. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll come to you so we can talk about the wedding ceremony…” he took the paper from you with a soft smile. You peck his lips, hoping he felt it before being tugged back toward your body with the speed of light.

You gasped as you opened your eyes, clenching your heart. You were gasping for air, like you didn’t breathe all the time you were away from your body. You touched your nose as you felt blood coming out of it. You weren’t surprised, you didn't give an offering at Papa Legba before doing this, you needed to quickly give him something.

“ Well, I’m ready to party all night, we should begin to find an outfit for the night- Holy hells, what happened to you?” you heard Alice run toward you. You smiled at her, finding an excuse that Alice didn’t believe in. “ Do I need to bring you home?”

You thought for a second before nodding. She gave you a tissue so your nose bleed didn’t dirty your dress.

“ Unless you are used to blood on your clothes~?” she teased you and you answered her with a wink. You both walked toward your home and you were surprised to see Marie talking with your parents. You smiled at them while going into your bedroom with Alice.  You talked all afternoon and before you knew it you could hear Alastor’s voice downstairs.

You quickly went into the lobby where Alastor was shaking your father’s hand. You smiled at him before running toward him, hugging his body against you. You nuzzled against his torso even when your father asked you to not be too close to Alastor, you still weren’t married.

“ Well, I came here to give you some happy news. I talked with the mayor, he is ready to hold our wedding in two weeks.”

You gasped before you were tugged into your mother’s arms who seemed so happy for you. You both talked about how your father’s work on Alastor’s father’s disappearance wasn’t supposed to hold back your wedding. You looked at your father as he frowned.

“ What about your father?”

“ I won’t lie, my main focus is marrying your daughter. Isn’t it selfish of me to make her wait more than she already did ?” he tilted his head toward your father with his usual smile. You looked at your father who nodded with an hesitant smile. He slapped Alastor on the shoulder, making your fiancée flinch, wishing happiness to your wedding. 

Alice rolled her eyes at Alastor as he walked toward you. He smiled at her while tugging you softly against him once your parents weren’t here anymore.

“ Look at the big boy with his big mouth talking about a big project.” She mocked him.

“ At least, I have a big project.” He smirked but looked at you innocently when you tapped his shoulder, frowning. You knew they didn’t really like each other like you would want them to, but you didn’t like when Alastor was joking about Alice’s incapacity to marry the one she wanted.

“ At least, she has my back.” Alice smirked at Alastor.

“Because if she wouldn’t, who would burden themselves with you?”

You sighed as they kept spitting at each other, but you couldn’t help smiling. You were feeling good.

After an hour or two, you both walked Alice home. She hugged you one last time before leaving you. You tugged Alastor toward the park where you met Papa Legba. You walked with Alastor, smiling happily.

“ Where should our honeymoon be?” you turned toward Alastor.

“ Mhn… Somewhere near the ocean maybe? I’ve never been there.” he smiled at you. You bit your lips, you still didn't know how to swim. “ If you are afraid of drowning, do not be afraid my dear, I’ll be by your side.” He kissed the back of your hand. You smiled softly at him.

“ I did want to go somewhere warm.” 

You smiled as you kept walking in the park, talking about your wedding. You couldn’t wait to wear your dress, you wanted to see Alastor’s reaction.

“ Who should we invite ?” 

“ Well, Alice will be the maid of honor,” you smiled as he rolled his eyes,” My family will come, so I shall invite Alyzée and some other friends but not too many.”

“ Mhn.. I guess I need to bring some people too. Well, I guess Mimzy could come, maybe Victor, if he isn’t too noisy about it.” He thought out loud. “ I don’t have any family left but my mother, which is enough.”

You smiled softly as you watched him look at the sky.

“ On our honeymoon, I think I will be able to do the spell.” he looked at you with a fond smile. “ I can’t wait.”

You grasped his face and kissed him fiercely. You took a step back before he could kiss back, jumping on the grass with a big grin. Your happy ending was so close! You let yourself fall on the grass, humming a song.

“ What do we need for.. the ritual?”

“ Well, we need another powerful spirit.” He sat next to you, taking away the leaves from your hair. “ I will try to invoke him this weekend.”

“ Can I be there?” You looked at him.

“ Well, I can’t say no to you.” He kissed your forehead with a smirk. “ We’ll need enough offerings…”

“ Now that you mention it, I need to give him an offering..”

“ Yes, what happened back then?”

“ My soul left my body,” you said proudly, “ so I could come see you.”

“ It was really impressive,” he said, looking at you with pride. You chuckled as you explained to Alastor how you managed to do that and that his shadow was being able to see you when you were in that state. “ I see… Don’t do it somewhere when you aren’t safe. I don’t know what could happen if you were to be forced out of your trance.”

You nodded with a soft smile, he was always thinking about your security. You sat up, kissing his cheek. You placed your head against his shoulder, looking at the rising moon in the sky. This weekend, you would summon the last spirit you needed for the spell to take place, and the weekend after, you would be wed to Alastor. 

You couldn’t wait.

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[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

If you’re still doing these asks, do you mind maybe adding a part 5 to Passion for Fashion?

I would love to see how Danny and Red Robin’s impromptu date goes and Constantine’s reaction to all this.

And poor Killer Croc is so confused and uncomfortable around the twins, oh and not to forget Dan’s inner turmoil over losing a love interest because his body no longer matches his mental and spiritual age😂

I’d also love to see the reactions of the rest of the Batfam to Tim going on a date and their reaction to Dan’s flirting with Croc.

Your request came in after I had already written most of Part 5, but I hope I can include most of what you asked for in it and make it up with another Part of the Au for you.

Danny strutted down the runway, fighting to keep his gaze straight ahead as various flashes from cameras went off.

He mentally went through his checklist of proper catwalk tips that he watched the other day—or, more accurately, Dan forced him to watch from some free video website—ensuring his hands were relaxed, long strides were made, and his shoulders were firm but not stiff.

This was the contest's second round, with Tim Drake proposing the "Gotham Aesthetic" as the theme and challenge. Apparently, the teenage CEO spent most of his childhood taking photos of the city and wanted others to appreciate the architecture of the aged town.

There was no kidnapping attempt this time, and the contest was back on schedule. However, there was a delay because some of the models had dropped out after they were nearly sold (Dan called them cowards, but Danny personally thought they were wise to do so). Hence, fashion designers had to scramble for someone new or forfeit their position in the contest, allowing some eliminated to take their place.

It took nearly four weeks to confirm that the same designers were staying but would need to remake or adjust their outfits. Thankfully, Wayne Amature Fashion Show was more than willing to offer them time.

Dan had already made Danny's outfit but figured he would remake it anyway. Once completed, new designs were crafted, adjusted, and flung into an idea box. He created so many it was as if Dan were a man possessed (Pun intended).

Danny needed to figure out how much fabric he was going through, but sometimes, he had to remind the other to sleep, eat, and shower. It seemed the other kept forgetting he was human now and needed to do these things for his health and Danny's poor nose.

Dan also seemed obsessed with exploring new parts of Gotham just to take pictures of buildings to get "inspiration." Danny went with him as he had nothing better to do, and the pair made an unlikely duo.

Both got stares in the streets—Danny for strutting around Gotham wearing some of Dan's regretted challenge outfits in an effort to learn to catwalk in them and Dan for dressing as close to the homeless as he could. For all that Dan could make amazing pieces of fashion, the man only filled his own closet with mismatched joggers and pajamas.

Danny had to force him back to change at one point since Dan had intended to walk around in a bathrobe- with shorts and stained short sleeves underneath it. He drew the line on bathrobes.

It was so embarrassing to be gawked at all the time that Danny could not help but wish Dan would try just a little. This was somewhat worse than when he was alone because at least then he knew it was just how stupid and awkward he looked in the outfits.

Now, he just felt subconscious about trying too hard compared to Dan.

"Relax, kid," The other scoffed, snapping a picture of the Brown Bridge. "By the time you're my age, you honestly stop caring about what other people think, so long as you like how you look."

"Can't you at least comb your hair?"

"I forgot how to do that."

Danny snaps his head in his direction, blinking owlishly "What?"

Dan shrugs. "My hair was fire for a literal decade, brat. How was I supposed to comb it?"

"Oh," Danny supposes, that makes sense. After all, Dan was more ghost than human at that point, driven mad by his grief and a colossal monster. He sort of forgot that. "Do you want me to show you how?"

"Ew. No. Too much work. Humans are so high maintenance." Dan rolled his eyes and shifted his tone into a mocking one. Comb your hair, change your clothes, take a bath."

"You smell like shit, Dan."

"You look like shit!"

"We have the same face!"

"It's better on me!"

Their public arguments also attract lots of stares. Danny would feel embarrassed by them if he wasn't so busy bickering with Dan as they moved about.

Ultimately, Dan had made his outfits formal steampunk during the break. Danny wished he had stayed with the Dark Academia idea because he felt he was walking around in a costume instead of clothes.

Dan told him that it felt too basic to go with Dark Academia since, now that he saw more of Gotham, he thought it better represent the city as a whole instead of the elites of Gotham. Danny debated with him until he agreed to make two of the four outfits- meant to represent all four seasons of Gotham's beauty or something stupid like that- to be dark academia.

Danny nears the end of the runway, stopping right before the judges to strike his pose. His eyes never leave the center decorative flower in the far back, but he makes sure to slowly turn his head as if he is gazing at the crowd.

There are gasps as he pulls off his tophat in a twirl to hide the way he presses the button on his hip. At once, his pants and sleeves light up in the gentle glow of the Brown Bridge's famous historic lampost show. It's no brighter than his ghost glow, but it makes him look like a vision, especially when he puts the hat back on with a mysterious curl of his lips.

Danny practiced that move for weeks—even when it made him cringe—and he is happy to have pulled it off successfully as he twists around and struts away. The Brown Bridge only lights its lanterns in the winter, so this hits a true Gotham native here for the seasonal challenge portion.

With his superhearing, he manages to catch Tim Drake-Wayne's dreamy sigh. Danny fights the urge to fist bump. If they impressed the special judge so much, then they just guaranteed their spot in the next round.

Each round meant they were closer to completing the mission. Since it's been practically impossible to find Batman—even when the man was running around dressed like a giant bat—this was their best bet.

Once he's backstage, he rushes to Dan's area, already ripping off most of his outfit for the last piece. Spring dark academia vaguely reminded him of rich school uniforms, but at least they didn't have ridiculous amounts of belts and metal on them.

Dan already has the outfit set out and quickly helps him change. He adjusts the vest and collar for Danny, glancing angrily at the model walking up the line. "Come on, we only have a few minutes before the last two models finish their walk for the Winter portion."

Danny nods, throwing on the gargoyle ear cuffs, only to pause when he sees a strange card on Dan's station. He pushes aside the black rings to grab a tiny green card with a giant question mark. "What's this?"

"Some guy saw my work and wanted to commission him a suit. Apparently, he was tired of how no one could style the question marks." Dan answered, distracted while reapplying some powder to Danny's face.

"A question mark? Why?"

"It's his gimmick or something. I didn't bother to ask for too many details. He will be going to our house soon to get his measurements done," Dan says, twisting Danny's face with his chin to make sure everything looks good. Danny lets him, blindly slipping on his rings and bracelets. "Thought it be a fun little side project."

"How did he hear about you?"

"You remember how you took those boxes of clothes to the job search office to give to people? Apparently, one of his employees' younger brothers borrowed a suit for his prom, and he thought the photos were nice." Dan shrugs. Then he glances in alarm at the stage hand who signals for them. "Never mind that. It's almost our turn again. Get out there!"

Danny scurries away, but not before he sees a beautiful redhead woman in green- was that leaves and vines???- stride over to Dan as the clone puts away his makeup.

She gestures with a business card, and Dan blinks as she talks once before he eagerly takes out his design journal. She must be a performer asking Dan for a new forest design or something.

Danny wonders why Gotham has so many people with oddly specific gimmicks.

He turns his head away to stride back into the catwalk, head held high as he does so. Danny makes the mistake of locking eyes with one of the judges- Tim Drake-Wayne is gawking at him like the people of the street do- and he snaps his gaze away, fighting to keep his composure.

He thinks he does well since Team Fenton snatches first place in this round. Drake-Wayne catches him at the after-party, praising his final outfit so much that Danny offers to give it to him, knowing Dan wouldn't mind.

Drake-Wayne goes red, early agreeing, but since they are so different in size—the CEO's waist is slightly leaner but with far more muscular forearms—Danny tells him to come by his house that weekend to have Dan resize it for him.

It should be fine since the Question Mark man and Leaf Lady will also be there that day for their own measurements.