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01zfan · 2 months

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anything 4 u | j. sc

brothers bestfriend!sungchan x fem. reader | 9k words

loosely inspired by “anything 4 u” by lany. this damn near killed me to write omfg.

contains: arguing, double standards, a little possessive? on both sides, sungchan and the reader are both a little mean. unprotected sex.

before you came into the world as shotaro’s little sister, sungchan was his bestfriend. they were friends before they could walk, gravitating towards one another even as crawling babies. sungchan was shotaro’s first sibling, crossing the threshold of being his bestfriend in such a short amount of time. shotaro was the closest thing sungchan would ever have to a sibling, he was the only child in his house.

“can you stop messing with her, sungchan?”

when you joined the mix, sungchan wasn’t on board. he discovered jealousy as a toddler, having to share shotaro’s attention with his new little sister. he didn’t understand what was so interesting about you, why shotaro wanted to spend all of his time watching you be an annoying baby instead of playing outside. sungchan would complain when his bestfriend would drop everything to go to you when you’d cry. sungchan would complain when they couldn’t play rough with you or that you couldn’t play video games. sungchan would go over to shotaro’s house only to find out he was going to be the plus one at your princess tea parties.

sungchan let his jealousy turn to teasing and he became the first and only person to get away with it. shotaro only watched your interactions and laugh, knowing you’d get him back tenfold. by the time both of you were preteens, you and sungchan had built a relationship that bordered bullying. you always made sure to come out on top, only having to tell shotaro that sungchan was bothering you so he could collect his friend.

when you two first became teens, sungchan found himself seeing you in a different light. the teasing had started to become forced on sungchan’s part in an effort to hide his emotions. he was able to convince himself that it was normal to feel that way about you from the proximity of being together and how familiar your personality was. but when sungchan was around you he forgot his words and only received your teases instead of dishing them out the way he used to.

by the time sungchan was about to go off to college, he had started to become protective of you. he tried to make his protectiveness logical, blaming it on the fact that he would be going to school away from his bestfriend, like he was compensating for the future knowing he’d be so far away from his friend. sungchan also blamed it on the fact that no one else seemed to notice you were always texting someone on your phone and you coming to the house late at night. sungchan was basically forced took to bare the burden of being your protector and to stop you from making bad decisions.

when you found out sungchan was no longer the immature boy who pulled your pigtails or stole your toys, you found yourself coming to him more. he was able to give you unbiased opinions, and you could tell him about the crushes or failed relationships that broke your hear. he was a familiar face in your life, one you didn’t mind spilling your heart out to. sungchan had found you a couple times crying your eyes out over something unimportant. sungchan followed the sound of your gentle sobs when you thought you were alone, slowly opening your door telling you everything was going to be okay. each time he was comforting and nonjudgemental, letting you get it all out before helping you find a solution.

the relationship you had with sungchan turned into something strange. you found yourself telling him things you could never tell shotaro or anyone you saw as a brotherly figure. at the same time sungchan didn’t feel like just a friend. there was something more when it came to sungchan, something you tried to ignore. you combated the turbulent emotions it by telling sungchan about all your newest romantic endeavors, hoping that it would make you only see him as a friend.

sungchan found out quickly he couldn’t be someone you came to in relation to boys. you had shown sungchan one too many photos of your direct messages, filled with non-deserving boys trying to get with you. the messages all began the same, all of them acting ignorant to the fact that you were shotaro’s sister, or that sungchan was always near you. too many of the faces and named were familiar, some of them even running in the same social circles as sungchan and shotaro. seeing the messages made his blood boil, causing him to accidentally tell shotaro something he wasn’t supposed to know about.

shotaro was surprisingly calm about the situation. sungchan saw his friend be the calmest he’s ever seen when it came to protecting you. shotaro only tilted his head slightly while asking extremely specific questions. sungchan answered calmly, suddenly embarrassed that he seemed more angry about you seeing guys than your overprotective brother was. when sungchan was done answering shotaro’s questions everything was back to normal. the two continued playing basketball like nothing had happened.

sungchan had almost forgotten what he told shotaro until you came home the next day. the two were playing a game when you stomped through the house screaming their names. sungchan was wide-eyed and shocked, but shotaro was completely calm as he continued to play.

“up here.” shotaro said casually.

sungchan could hear each stomp up the stairs. sungchan had stopped playing, only focused on shotaro’s closed door that he was sure you was going to break down soon.

you came through the door so fast the door hit the wall and recoiled back. shotaro only looked up after he killed sungchan’s character in the fighting game, looking at his door that slammed against the wall.

“mom is gonna kill you.” shotaro said evenly.

“i’m going to kill you!” your wild eyes locked on sungchan’s, and you brought a finger up to point at him. “then i’m going to kill you!” you yelled.

that’s when shotaro got upset and leapt to his friend’s defense. when shotaro stood up and started yelling back at you sungchan was frozen on the bed with his head on a swivel watching the screaming match in front of him. sungchan had no siblings, so he could never understand how you two were going at it so viciously or loudly. what sungchan understood was to keep his mouth shut as you two went at it. he knew better than to interject and become the new target both of you focused on.

so sungchan held his tongue, even when he knew shotaro was acting irrationally. he could tell you knew your brother was being ridiculous by the way you let out a deep breath and pinched the bridge of your nose. before you could argue back sungchan saw you give shotaro a simple smile and a head tilt. it was the same expression shotaro gave sungchan when digging for information about your date.

you said nothing else to shotaro or sungchan. you turned around and left, slamming your door behind you. sungchan looked around shotaro’s room to see his pictures on the wall shake. only a moment passed before shotaro went back to the game like nothing happened. sungchan had to act he didn’t just witness the most brutal screaming match he’s ever seen in his life. sungchan only continued playing on the game with his friend, subtlety trying to sneak looks to your closed bedroom door to see if you would come out.

“she’s going to act out like crazy now.” shotaro said.

sungchan had to pull his attention away from your door to his friend. shotaro tried to remain calm, but he could see his friend was visibly bothered. when the round of fighting was over, shotaro turned off the game and rubbed his temples from the stress.

“you know her top pick for college is the place you’re going to?” shotaro asked.

sungchan was the first one you told when you got accepted.

“i had no idea.” sungchan said, shaking his head.

“can you look out for her when she goes there? just until she finds a group of friends?” shotaro asks.

sungchan knew he should’ve said no. you already had friends and you were going to be an adult soon. sungchan had also promised himself that he would stop doting after you when he would leave for college. the distance would do him some good, maybe he’d finally be able to calm his heart when you came around. you were more than capable of making your own decisions, both sungchan and shotaro knew that. but when shotaro looked to sungchan and told him he’s the only person he could trust, sungchan couldn’t say no.

so when you came to campus a year after sungchan, he did what his friend asked him to. he looked out for you and kept tabs on you through mutual friends. sungchan even found himself at the frat parties you would be at on friday nights under the guise of seeing his friends. he wouldn’t drink, knowing that it would be him guiding you and your drunk friends back to the dorms. he had become your confidant, the incident from highschool long forgotten. you knew now sungchan was looking out for your best interest—the man you were going to see that night wasn’t a good person.

once sungchan found out he was in your good graces again he was wrapped around your finger. he followed you around campus, making sure you got to your classes before he even thought about going to his. he was there for you the moment you called for him, and he found himself taking you anywhere you asked. sungchan put his car to good use, taking you to the store or to pick up food for you. sungchan was able to find an excuse for doting on you, telling himself that it was because he had to look out for you after shotaro asked.

he only told your brother the good things. you were doing great in school, and you had found a good group of friends. sungchan never dared to tell shotaro that you went to parties in cropped shirts and even shorter skirts, that you were seeing boys, or that he was slowly developing feelings for you.

sungchan was determined to play the long game with you. he never made the first move, never even expected you to reciprocate his feelings. sungchan was happy to just be your guardian angel at the frat parties you frequented, or the person you could come to with your problems. sungchan saw himself as such a constant in your life that you didn’t notice his developing feelings. how were you supposed to know he was doting on you when you’ve been doted on your whole life?

it wasn’t until he laid on the floor of your dorm with you that he couldn’t take it anymore. you were in the middle of telling him about your most recent conquest, some random guy who was your partner for an upcoming project. sungchan sat up suddenly, not looking down at you laying next to him as he spoke.

“i don’t think it’s appropriate for you to tell me about the men you’re seeing anymore.” sungchan said.

you sat up too, not used to sungchan putting his foot down or him telling you no.

“why not?” you seemed to think for a second before your mind started filling in the gaps of sungchan’s silence. “did you talk to my brother?” you asked.

he defended himself quickly, shaking his head to show you he was being honest. you visibly calmed down before asking your question again.

“i mean i talk to your brother everyday, but not about who you’re seeing.” sungchan said.

sungchan pulled in a deep breath and let it out. he came clean then and there on the floor of your dorm room. he told you about how shotaro asked him to watch after you when you came to campus and how he enjoyed taking care of you a little too much.

before sungchan could confess his feelings, you did it first. you pulled sungchan in for a big kiss, throwing all of your body weight onto him. he caught you and held you, reciprocating your kisses and smiling when you pulled away. it was wordless your confession, everything communicated through smiles and shining eyes.

from that point on you and sungchan have been in a relationship. everything was the same as usual, except you didn’t go to parties as much and sungchan talked to shotaro a little less. sungchan found it extremely hard to talk to your brother about your life with you in the room. that’s why sungchan was on the phone with his bestfriend now, trying to smack away your teasing and persistent hands that messed with the buttons on his flannel.

“just say you’re busy.” you whisper.

you make sure to say it close enough to the speaker that forces sungchan to crane his body away from you.

“sorry taro i was watching a show. what did you say?” sungchan smiles when he talks to shotaro but turns away from his phone to give you a stern look.

you hold up your hands defensively like you’re doing nothing. when sungchan’s attention goes back to his phone you go back to messing with him, pulling at the end of his flannel and leaning in to kiss his neck.

“one second let me pause the show.” sungchan puts his hand over the speaker of his phone and looks at you. “stop it.” he commands.

sungchan’s eyes are large and indignant, trying to get you to listen to him. you try to take sungchan seriously for his sake but you can’t stop yourself from smiling. sungchan trying to boss you around is when you find him the funniest. your smile only grows when sungchan grips both of your wrists with one hand. even as he holds both of your wrists to keep you away from his body he doesn’t use much strength. it’s all for show, both of you know sungchan would crumble to you immediately if you asked. but you humor him, sitting patiently on his lap while he continues talking on the phone.

sungchan eyes you, still holding your wrists as he listens to shotaro.

“you need me to pick her up?” sungchan looks at you, trying hard to pretend like you’re not in the room.

“that fancy italian place? no i haven’t been.” sungchan looks at you again when you make a tiny ooh sound. “i don’t know if she’s been shotaro. how am i supposed to know that?” sungchan says.

“okay. we will meet you there at 6:30.” when sungchan sees you shake your head he stops shotaro mid sentence. “actually does 7:30—” sungchan checks your expression and when you give him a thumbs up he nods his head. “does 7:30 work instead?” he asks.

you still sit on sungchan’s lap, messing with the bottom of his flannel as he gets confirmation from shotaro.

“okay. see you then.”

when sungchan hangs up his phone you let your hands go underneath his shirt. he lets out a sigh of relief from being off the phone while you draw your breath in. sungchan is solid underneath your fingers, and so warm you find yourself wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

your chest is pressed against sungchan’s when he brings his arms around you too. he kisses the top of your forehead, letting a sigh slip from his lips again.

“we almost got caught.” sungchan says quietly.

“no we didn’t.” you say

you were the complete opposite to sungchan in regards to shotaro. sungchan didn’t know how you weren’t constantly panicking at the thought of shotaro finding out. sungchan knew shotaro well, and he knew that he did not play when it came to you. sungchan’s stomach dropped at the thought of shotaro finding out about the two of you. the betrayal and anger that would cross shotaro’s face winded sungchan. he couldn’t stop thinking about every single terrible outcome possible as the two of you got ready to meet shotaro for dinner. sungchan found himself not saying a word the entire car ride to the restaurant, mentally practicing how he was going to talk to you with your brother around. sungchan put his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for your hand, and he walked in front of you to stop his mind from subconsciously trailing close behind you.

when you and sungchan met shotaro in front of the restaurant, shotaro went to hug you first. whatever playful teasing was happening was lost on sungchan, he was too busy overthinking how close he might’ve been to you. he looked at your hand twitch in between the space of your two bodies. he casually moved, afraid that you were going to grab his hand in front of shotaro. he felt the side eye from you and the confused look on shotaro’s face before he brought sungchan in for a hug.

sungchan was so focused on trying to remain as neutral as possible that the night went by him in a blur. you filled in the silence or the awkward gaps in the conversation that were a result of sungchan not listening. he was grateful for your easygoing personality, but sungchan found himself tipping his head occasionally at you, surprised you weren’t nearly as effected as he was. you were the same version of yourself, no pauses in your words or shrugging your shoulders in confusion. the only reprieve sungchan got from conversation was when the food arrived.

“i hope you guys enjoy the food.” sungchan watched the waitress smile to you and shotaro, both of you nodding your heads the same way. when the waitress got to sungchan she put a hand on his shoulder and pointed at the food on his dish. sungchan’s eyes snapped up to hers as she pointed at the plate. “i put a little extra on your plate for you.” she said, smiling at sungchan.

before sungchan could say anything the waitress was gone. he was left with the with an extra serving of food on his plate with you and your brother staring at him. shotaro had a facetious smile on his face as he continued eating his food—you looked at sungchan with wide eyes and a straight face. he couldn’t stop his face from feeling hot, trying to play off the very obvious flirting.

“she must’ve seen how tall i am.” sungchan laughed nervously, trying to find a reason for the extra food.

“oh she must’ve.” you scoffed.

shotaro didn’t pick up on the nuance in your voice, how annoyed you sounded. he only laughed, focusing on the attention that sungchan was getting.

“you’re all red in the face.” shotaro teased.

“no i’m not.” sungchan said back.

sungchan felt like his face was on fire as he could see you progressively get more and more upset. sungchan silently wished for his friend to be quiet, to stop digging sungchan into a hole he couldn’t get out of. the more shotaro talked the more annoyed you became, by the time the waitress came back with the check you were clenching your jaw, wordlessly pushing food around on your plate with your fork. even when the conversation shifted to sungchan catching up with shotaro, you were completely silent. sungchan wordlessly took the initiative to fill in the gaps in the conversation with questions about shotaro’s studies, or how he was adjusting to being away from home. you barely contributed to the conversation, never reacting to sungchan’s quick glances to you when shotaro was occupied with his food.

you knew that sungchan could tell you were pissed off. the way he would shake his head profusely anytime shotaro brought up the waitress made you blood boil and when he stole quick glances you felt like rolling your eyes. you couldn’t stop thinking about the waitress and the way her eyes lingered, or how she gave sungchan nearly double his serving of food. everything was too obvious, right in sungchan’s face and he actively denied it. he was denying everything for your sake, but you had eyes of your own to see the scene laid out in front of you. you never considered yourself to be the possessive type—you never had to be. arguably the only positive effect of being spoiled was that you never had to greedy or clinging—you never had demand for something if it was handed to you without having to say a word.

but you had a mean streak when it came to sungchan. he knew it too. he knew that you never had something not go your way. he knew you always got what “rightfully” belonged to you and never settled for anything less. but here sungchan was, blushing and shaking his head bashfully while a waitress blatantly flirted with him in front of you. a voice in the back of your mind that you’ve never heard whispered to you that sungchan liked the attention. the thought made bile brew in your stomach and the anger almost pushed you to stab your fork through the plate in front of you.

“i think we should get the check.” sungchan looked at you pushing food across your plate, a majority of it was untouched. he could see your jaw clenching and he could feel your legs becoming restless underneath the table. “it’s getting kinda late. i have a class early in the morning.” sungchan says to shotaro.

sungchan almost feels bad seeing the confusion flash across shotaro’s face, but he knows it’s time to go. sungchan was unsure how much time he had left in this restaurant before the hole he accidentally dug himself into was too deep. shotaro understood, motioning for the check to the waitress. sungchan ducked his head when he felt her gaze on him. unfortunately for sungchan you saw it all, following the waitresses line of sight straight to the side of his head.

sungchan couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze while the check came. he focused solely on shotaro, head resting on top of his clasped hands as his own legs started becoming restless. when the waitress placed the check between shotaro and sungchan, sungchan failed at snatching the paper before shotaro could. his eyes glossed over the prices of the dishes, instead focusing on the tiny note written at the bottom. shotaro elbowed sungchan playfully, and sungchan tried to telepathically get shotaro to not say anything else.

“sungchan, she left her name and number on the receipt for you.” shotaro whispered to sungchan.

shotaro was amused by the sight, showing the paper to sungchan. before shotaro could show the receipt to you sungchan quickly snatched it from his hands. shotaro let out a small sound of surprise, raising his eyebrows comically when sungchan shook his head.

“she handed the receipt to you, so it must’ve been for you.” sungchan said quickly.

shotaro shook his head and you were so close to losing it you smiled and laughed to yourself briefly. never in your life would you have thought you’d be in this situation. you felt insane and sungchan quickly put his card in the folder to pay. he pulled out cash to tip instead, too afraid to take the pen to the paper.

“she was definitely flirting with you.” shotaro said when the waitress circled back around to collect the form of payment. “i mean look at how much food she gave you.” shotaro continues.

“it wasn’t very good though,” sungchan looks to you legs crossed in the seat, eyes wandering around the dining area apathetically. “right?” sungchan asks you.

you only shrug your shoulders, letting out a sigh as you scratch at your scalp. sungchan turns to your brother, not reacting to your extremely obvious annoyance. shotaro only focuses on sungchan, side-eyeing him when the waitress comes back. when sungchan sees you looking away he puts up his hands frantically motioning him to stop. when you look back to sungchan, shotaro gives him an extremely obvious wink. sungchan sighs and puts his reddening face in his hands.

“hope to see you guys again!” the waitress calls after the three of you while you walk to the door.

“you will!” shotaro says playfully.

sungchan continues to walk, speeding up to try to make it to the door of the restaurant before you can. before sungchan can open the door for you, another man beats him to it. the biggest smile you’ve had all day adorns your face, and your eyes do a quick look up and down of the man holding the door open as sungchan stands directly behind you.

“thank you.” you say.

your voice is saccharine, and your eyes invite the man to look you up and down the same way. the man doesn’t spare sungchan a glance as your face takes up the lens of his sunglasses.

“you’re welcome.” the man says back.

the moment is quick, flying past shotaro as he falls behind sungchan. however sungchan freezes in front of the door then and there, replaying the moment in his mind. the candied looks and the complete turn in your mood at the drop of a hat. the honeyed look the man got is nothing like the glares sungchan got all night, and the sweet demeanor is nothing like the closed off girl that stands in front of the restaurant looking back at sungchan in annoyance. shotaro bumps into sungchan, complaining about him stopping the flow of traffic. sungchan ignores his friend, letting the quick burst of jealousy fire off in his brain. it intensifies and mellows out at the same time as sungchan clenches his fists, following shotaro as he brings you in fro a hug.

sungchan can still see the unmistakable sour look on your face soften for the second time, your previously crossed arms open to hug shotaro back. the straps of your purse are still caught in your white knuckle grip, and you purposely avoid looking at sungchan as shotaro sways you back and forth. sungchan turns his head to face the night breeze, maybe the calm weather could calm him down.

“what are your plans for the rest of the night?” shotaro asks.

sungchan looks to you as you answer the question. he can see the gears in your mind turn, and he swears he can see the smallest smile flash across your face before your lips turn to a pout.

“i’m tired. i wanna to go back to campus.” you complain.

“what’s wrong?” shotaro stops in the middle of the parking lot, putting his hand to your forehead to check for your temperature. “are you feeling sick?”

sungchan has to remain benevolent, acting like he doesn’t feel your piercing gaze as look directly at him.

“i’m feeling very sick.” you put your hand over your stomach. “like i might throw up, actually.” you say.

shotaro is instantly worried, asking about food poisoning and asking you if anything tasted bad. sungchan looks at you making a scene in front of your brother, indirectly complaining about something sungchan couldn’t control. sungchan was able to be calm and levelheaded when it came to you, but sometimes your spoiled attitude cut through the patience. the way you looked to your brother with fake pain made sungchan scoff out loud.

“dramatic.” sungchan said under his breath.

you smiled to yourself when shotaro snapped his head to face sungchan.

“look who’s talking.” you sneer.

sungchan felt like he was a kid again, rolling his eyes and stomping his feet at shotaro babying you. maybe sungchan was jealous that he couldn’t be the one doting after you, holding your purse in one hand while checking your temperature with the other. but he put himself in the position of being only your brothers annoyed bestfriend, so he was going to act like it.

shotaro played his role well too, stopping the two of you before you could start bickering. shotaro looked between the two of you, stern as he told sungchan to take you back to campus. sungchan fake protested—all three of you knew it was just for show. sungchan only crossed his arms across his chest before nodding his head silently. shotaro smiled and pinched his sungchan’s cheek, talking about how good of a friend he is.

“i gotta start driving back now before it gets too late.” shotaro says.

he hugs both you and sungchan, hoping that you feel better after a long rest. sungchan has to convince shotaro you’ll be alright, going the extra step to say he’ll pick you up medicine from the store if you still feel sick. shotaro thanks his friend before pulling him in for another hug. you two walk shotaro to his car to send him off.

“drive safe.” you say to shotaro.

“text me when you get home!” sungchan tells shotaro before he shuts the door.

both you and sungchan wave shotaro off as he backs out of the parking spot. you continue to wave, even long after his car disappears down the road.

almost immediately, sungchan tries to put a cautious arm around you. you look up at sungchan with your meanest look, shrugging his hand off your body as you start walking towards his car.

you can hear sungchan sigh as he starts to follow behind you, still keeping a hand close to your back incase you stumble in your heels. you looked uncomfortable in them the whole night. if you would’ve let sungchan he would’ve gladly picked you up and carried you to the car. he still opens the door for you despite you trying to beat him to it, and you have to pull the seatbelt from sungchan’s hands to stop him from buckling you in.

when sungchan gets in the car and puts the key in the ignition, neither of you say a word. you hope that sungchan doesn’t speak before you have the chance to calm yourself down. you close your eyes, to try and muster up the last bit of understanding in your body to not snap at your boyfriend. when you close your eyes all you can see is the waitress, how she flirted with sungchan and he did nothing to stop it.

when sungchan doesn’t pull out of the parking spot you open your eyes. when you hear him pull his keys from the ignition you start to get irritated. when sungchan clears his throat, you practically have smoke coming from your ears.

“it’s not my fault a girl flirts with me.” sungchan says.

your eyes widen, indignation across your face.

“it actually is your fault.” you say.

now it’s sungchan’s turn to look upset, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you confused.

“what did you want me to do?” sungchan asks.

“maybe not pretend like you don’t notice? she was practically fucking you in front of me.” your voice starts bouncing off of the walls in the car.

sungchan’s eyes go wide and he laughs in shock, mouth open in amusement at your dramatics.

“you know you’re being ridiculous.” sungchan laughs.

hearing sungchan call you ridiculous makes the remaining bits of your patience crumble. before you know it you’re pointing an accusatory finger in sungchan’s face, your manicured nail almost poking his nose.

“you’re the one that won’t even tell my brother we’re dating!” you yell.

“he’s my bestfriend!” sungchan says, raising his hands in defense.

“but you’re my boyfriend!” you draw your hand back,fingers flat agaisnt your palm as you feel the car heating up. “what if i flirted with a waiter or went out with the guys shotaro has tried to hook me up with?”

you point is proven when sungchan has a visible reaction. he can’t help it, the way his eyes close and his mouth dips in disgust. he didn’t even realize he reacted until you pointed your whole hand at him.

“so that’s what’s ridiculous.” you say.

when sungchan says nothing back, your anger starts dipping. it turns into defeat, and the adrenaline leaving your body at such a fast rate causes you to you lean against your seat. you’re defeated, between the dinner and your unregulated emotions getting the best of you, you’re suddenly exhausted. you only lean your head against the window, staring outside as you feel the stone forming in your throat.

“just take me home, sungchan.” you say quietly.

he hears you clearly, putting his keys back in the ignition before silently pulling out of the parking lot.

the drive back home is silent. songs play from the speakers of sungchan’s car, many of them are songs that remind him of you. he feels sick seeing you upset, leaning your head against the window not saying a word to him. you won’t even look at him, your eyes trained on passing building and stoplights. sungchan almost wishes that you’d yell at him, that you would let it all out. but he only continues to drive, the hand that would usually be on your thigh grips the steering wheel hard.

the closer sungchan got to campus, the more he felt that sinking feeling in his stomach. his mind went to the worst possibilities—you calling it off or making him choose between you and shotaro. when sungchan pulled in his reserved parking spot, he felt like he was going to be sick himself.

sungchan didn’t know that the sick feeling in your stomach dissipated a long time ago. the migraine you got from your frustrations melted and traveled to your stomach, making your whole body feel warm. you didn’t know what to do with the jealousy and the possessiveness you felt for the first time tonight. when you noticed the empty spaces in the parking lot of students that went home for the break your mind started to wander. the feeling in your stomach turned to something that churned and pulled you towards sungchan when you noticed the deep tint of his windows.

sungchan was too busy turning the engine off, trying to figure out how to get you to speak to him. he turned his key, hand still on the ignition as he turned to you.

“and what about you,” sungchan looks over to you. “treating shotaro like an attack dog still after all these years.” he says.

sungchan watches you take in his words through one ear just for them to fall out of the other. you’re spoiled and can never admit when you’re wrong. it’s shotaro’s doing but sungchan is no better, your attitude comes from years of everyone around you giving you what you want. sungchan remains steadfast, refusing to back down to your irrational anger. but he doesn’t see the anger in your eyes when you look to him. he sees a playful glint, and he feels your eyes look him up and down. sungchan subconsciously straightens his posture, letting silence fill the car again.

you mess with the locks on sungchan’s door, slowly switching back and forth. the sound makes sungchan feel uneasy, how slow and constant it is as you very clearly think about something. he remains still in the drivers seat, trying to not falter. sungchan only lasts a second before looking back to you and clearing his throat.

“you’re really just not going to say anything?” sungchan asks.

sungchan feels the hair on the back of his neck raise when he sees the smile on your lips.

“get in the backseat.” you said from your spot.

sungchan remains still, looking to you in disbelief. at a time like this, in the middle of a fight in the student parking.

“we need to talk about this.” he says.

sungchan believes that he still has authority. he can be mean when he has to be. although sungchan’s sternness is fleeting he believes that he can channel it when necessary. but the way you look at him with glossy puppy eyes reminds him why you’re so so spoiled

“can’t we talk in the backseat?” you pout.

sungchan wasted no time, barely looking at the mostly empty parking lot surrounding him as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. he pulled on the backdoor handle twice impatiently, waiting for his car to automatically unlock.

when his car finally decided to listen, he clambered into the backseat, laying across the cushions like he has so many times before. when your relationship was new and your roommates were nosy, the only option you guys had was the backseat of his car. what was awkward at first turned to second nature, and then it became a rarity when sungchan got his own place. but now here he was, shirtless waiting for you in the backseat while you stayed in the front. sungchan looked to you, already feeling an ache in his pants from the anticipation and tension from the night.

“babe?” sungchan called out.

you moved in the front seat, causing the car to slightly shake. sungchan was filled to the brim with excitement, reaching for the button on his pants to push his jeans down. sungchan saw your pretty manicured hand—paid by him—reach to to the backseat. your panties hung by the end of your nail, dangling in the space by sungchan’s face. before they could fall to the floor he grabbed it a little too quickly, balling it up in his hand and bringing it to his face. although he couldn’t see you he could hear you scoff and say some degrading word that made him twitch in his pants.

sungchan wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was nasty when it came to you. he liked licking his cum off your body to clean you up. he liked pulling you up after you sucked on his dick and tasting himself on his lips. he liked making a mess of you when you were together, and he liked stealing your panties when you weren’t looking to hide them for himself. he liked smelling you after a long day after work, taking in big huffs of you as you bashfully hit his shoulders. he liked rutting his dick pathetically against your body. he liked doing those things because when he did it you’d look at him with that almost disgusted glint in your eye and call him a freak. he wore it like a badge of honor. he was a freak for you and you alone—your freak. so when he heard his title fall from your lips, all he could do was nod his head. you finally came into his view, body hunched as you made your way over the center console.

sungchan reached his hands out to help you, one hand still holding your balled up panties. you declined his help, sitting on the other side of the car.

“are you going to keep those for yourself?” you mocked.

sungchan nodded, realizing he couldn’t see the look in your eyes well enough. he stretched to turn on the light in the backseat, illuminating the space. he could see your foot propped on the seat while the other was planted on the floor. your legs being spread gave sungchan an almost clear view of your cunt, only obstructed by the fabric of your dress fell down between your legs. sungchan squeezed your panties in his hand while licking his lips.

“come over here princess.” sungchan said.

sungchan settled against the door and spread his legs, trying to look as inviting to you as possible. he even went the extra mile to throw in your nickname, one that he used to tease you with until you would raising your voice at him. you thought about it, eye raking down his body before you shook your head.

“i don’t think you deserve it.” you say simply.

you shrug, your hands starting at your knees working their way up. sungchan clenches his hands at his side, seeing you tease yourself the same way he always does. when you reach the ends of your dress you teasingly lift them up, giving sungchan a quick peak of you. when he reaches forward to touch your inner thigh you smack his hand. sungchan recoils, going back to leaning against the door.

“what’s gotten into you?” sungchan said.

you always had the habit of bossing sungchan around, it’s been there since you both were young. but more often than not the one time you were pliant in taking whatever sungchan wanted to give you in the bedroom. the two of you came to the agreement that sungchan was more than capable of taking care of the both of you, because his pleasure was dependent on yours. he liked seeing you get weak underneath him and he liked having to take you the rest of the way when your legs failed you while riding him.

but this was different.

you had told sungchan so many times breathlessly that you liked when he grabbed you, you liked seeing how you seemed to fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, even if your flesh spilled out between his fingers. sungchan has seen your eyes screw shut from pleasure at from touches that were light as a feather. so sungchan had no idea why you were denying yourself the pleasure of being touched by him. he was forced to watch you sit across from him as you lifted up the bottom of your dress. you subjected him to watching you slip a small finger into your cunt, forcing him to see and hear you whine from frustration when it wasn’t enough.

“i told you that you don’t deserve it.” you added another finger, and sungchan watched you try and bend your fingers the same way he did when he was inside of you. “you don’t even act like my boyfriend.” you pouted.

sungchan kept his hands tucked underneath his thighs, nails digging into his skin. he shook his head like an idiot when he saw your mind try to comprehend you weren’t getting what you wanted.

“i’m your boyfriend baby, i promise.” sungchan squeezed your balled up underwear in his hand as you unskillfully fingered yourself. “touch your clit too.” sungchan said, nearly drooling.

you snapped out of your haze when sungchan tried to give you orders, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes were immediately apologetic when he saw that you stopped fingering yourself completely, sliding out of your cunt with a shudder.

“i know how to masturbate, you fucking idiot.” you seethe.

sungchan nods quickly, biting his lip at your insult. the way your words cut through him with the airy tilt from stimulation has sungchan aching in his pants. he presses against the fabric of his underwear, he has to shift and move his jeans down his leg to allow for more space.

“i’m sorry baby. i just want to help.” he apologizes.

you go back to your show, smiling at your pliant boyfriend. the one who was so adamant about standing up for his wrong opinion was malleable before you, doing anything you wanted with just a simple look. all you had to do was press your finger to your clit and look to the button on sungchan’s jeans before he was hastily pushing them down of his legs. when you opens your legs a little wider he nearly tripped over himself to put hands on your body.

sungchan saw every part of you call to him—your chest that moved in tandem with your body, the dip of your hips that always allowed sungchan to have a perfect grip of you. even your eyes called to him, blown out with want and your cheeks begged to be touched. sungchan covered the expanse of your body in seconds, gasping and clutching at anything as you continued touching yourself. sungchan pressed wet kisses to your neck, trailing all the way up until he got to your ear. you loved when he did that, shivering with each kiss pressed to your skin.

“you’re mine right?” you whimpered.

sungchan pulled away to look you in your eyes. his hand tilted your chin and kept it in place when you tried to turn away. he saw your eyes almost gloss over when his hold on your face tightened.

“yes.” he said.

sungchan’s voice was no longer desperate, no longer apologetic or looking for approval as his other hand started trailing towards your cunt. you had taking your hand away from your core completely, one hand already holding the back of the driver seat for stability.

“you’re mine.” sungchan said.

he saw your head dumbly move up and down and your long eyelashes bat as you blinked away tears. your soft pretty hand from never working a day in your life went over sungchan’s large hand, slowly guiding him to your center. your plush lips almost mouthed please as sungchan just let his hand rest there, unmoving.

sungchan smiled in your face, reveling in the defeated look. all the anger was just a show, you were now desperate and nearly begging for what you wanted. this was nothing like the girl who had people submit to her like it was nothing.

“you really don’t know what to do when you don’t get what you want, huh?” sungchan cooed at you, tapping on your cheek as his other hand on your center didn’t move.

you nod your head before shaking it, hesitating before you see sungchan’s smile get bigger. he cups his hand around your head, and you pitch your hips forward slightly to get closer.

“you just get mad and hope for the best, don’t you?” sungchan asks.

you nod again, and you continue nodding until sungchan slips his iddle finger and ring finger into your heat. your eyes close and your hand goes to sungchan’s hand that still holds your face. he doesn’t stop pumping into your heat, looking down at your furrowed eyebrows and your wobbling legs. he slides in so easily, and he can see how pitiful you are so clearly from up here. sungchan taps your lip with his finger. you part your lips so sungchan can lick them, and you open wider so he can slip his tongue into your mouth. you whine instantly, bringing both hands to grip sungchan’s shoulders. you tilt your head to give him a better angle, even if it sacrifices your own comfort.

he picks up the pace of your fingers, just to feel how you fall behind his kisses. sungchan pulls away, purposely letting spit dribble from the corner of your lips.

“you’re so spoiled.” sungchan says amazed.

“it’s your fault. you always give me everything i want.” you say nearly breathless.

you have a small smile as you struggle to open your eyes. when you finally do, sungchan picks up the speed to wipe the knowing look off your face. you’re a mess all over again, mouth opening while pitiful high-pitched whimpers fall from your lips.

before you can tell sungchan you’re close he speaks first.

“i don’t think you deserve to cum.” he says mockingly.

instantly your eyes open, tears threatening to spill at the denial of something so sweet. sungchan only watches you in amusement, still trying to decide your fate.

“you want me to give it to you?” sungchan asks.

you nod, hands reaching down to pull at the elastic of his underwear. sungchan smiles, pulling away from you to free his dick from his pants. you pull your legs from the center console, tucking them underneath you while you wait for sungchan to give you what you want. with your underwear still balled in his hands he beckons to you, spreading out his naked body like he’s your new seat.

you close the small space quickly, pushing your face into sunghcna’s. it’s rushed, you miss a beat when he smiles against your lips at your desperation. he guides your hips to straddle his hips, and you put your hand against the fogging window as the other rests in the crook of his neck.

when you pull apart sungchan bunches your dress at your hips, exposing your lower half to him. he looks down before letting a glob of spit land on his heavy dick. it’s against his stomach, occasionally twitching upwards when you dig your nails into his skin. his hand goes to his dick, mixing the spit and precum down his shaft as lubrication. his other hand guides your hips forward until you hover above him. you pull in a gasp in anticipation.

“ready?” sungchan asks, smile on his lips.

before you can say yes, sungchan slides you down on his dick. he stretched you out, this new angle in the cramped space causes your body to seize before relaxing. sungchan hisses as he finishes sliding in. your head goes to the crook of his neck, whimpering at his pulsing dick buried deep in you. sungchan’s face is void of pity as he drags your body up to make you take him all again. you do nothing but whine and moan pitifully into sungchan’s neck, sucking on his skin to satisfy your oral fixation. sungchan takes your hand that presses against the window to pull it behind your back. lack of stability causing you to lean more into him, and takes away any attempt you could make at pulling yourself up from sungchan.

“you like it?” sungchan pulls your body up before bringing you down harder. “when i tell you that you belong to me?” sungchan whispers into your ear.

his voice is strained, holding back grunts from the way your walls squeeze around him and pull him in.

“i do.” you whine.

sungchan lets go of your hand but you keep it there, placing it on his thigh to try and hold your body up. sungchan thrusts up into you quickly at your suspended state, completely changing the pace he had set. you dig your nails into his flexed thigh as a result. he watches your chest bounce in the confines of your dress. part of him wants to rip it off of you, but a bigger part of him wants to keep you completely covered in case someone catches you two out here. sungchan refused to have too much of you exposed in public, seeing your body in all its naked glory was reserved for him and him alone.

“this pussy belongs to me.” sungchan presses his finger to your clit, and your body curls into him even further. you’re a whining mess, letting yes repeatedly fall from your lips when sungchan rubbing revolutions on your bundle of nerves. “you don't even treat her right.” he scoffs.

“please give it me sungchan.” youpull away from the crook of his neck to reveal your tear tracks, wet and shimmering down the sides of your face.

sungchan tried his best to remain mean. but seeing your glossy self-bitten lips and your wet face softened sungchan. he still snapped his hips up into you that caused your chest to jump and his car to shake, but he cooed at your pitiful face and kissed your salty tears before swiping them away with his thumb. he kissed your forehead and wrapped an arm around your back underneath your arm to bring your chest close to his.

“anything for you, baby.” he moaned quietly.

sungchan’s voice was gentle with you, but the change in the way he fucked you was not. suddenly the arm wrapped around your back pulled you up and he snaked his arm underneath your leg to hike it up. he lifted your body with small grunts to bring you down harshly, making you cry out loud. crescent moons were digging into sungchan’s skin and you could feel your nails bending from the pressure. the sound of your hips coming down on sungchan’s filled the car, mixed with moans he finally let slip from his lips. you were both getting high off of getting fucked, your walls clamped around his dick in a vice grip that had sungchan cursing your name. how could he not give you everything you wanted while you felt like this inside. you both looked down where you two met, watching sungchan disappear inside of you to hit deep in your stomach. he looked up at you, blowing a piece of hair from his line of sight.

“look at me.” sungchan grunted in between thrusts.

you listened immediately, eyes glazing over as you got close to your peak again.

“you’re gonna cum just for me?” sungchan asked.

you nodded, words fractured anytime you tried to speak.

“so close.” you stuttered.

“i can tell.” sungchan said knowingly.

“cum—” you stopped mid sentence to lean into sungchan’s chest. you looked up at him from your place on his chest and he looked down at you, eyes full of love as he watched you become more and more undown. your walls held him a little tighter when he tried lifting you. “cum inside. all yours.” you babbled.

that was all sungchan needed to hear. he pulled you down one last time, gridning his hips against yours to stimulate your clit. sungchan’s eyes looked everywhere, and felt your drool on his chest as you slapped his thigh. it was always a telltale sign for you, trying to relieve your tension. sungchan grabbed your hand to limit the movement and continued moving his hips.

you let out one final cry before arching your back against sungchan’s chest, and he held you in place. you squeezed around him over and over, milking his dick until he had no more left to give you. your wet walls still pulsed, so much that sungchan could feel his cum seeping out past his dick. you went completely limp against him, your loud cries turning into soft whimpers as your body started shaking. if sungchan touched you, you whined, and when he didn’t touch you you pressed your chest closer to his. it was a game sungchan didn’t want to win.

“i really always do give you what you want.” sungchan said.

it was a quiet revelation, one you had a long time ago back when you two were kids fighting over pointless things.

“yeah. you do.”

#requestz #seriez: anything 4 u #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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dexlexia · 1 year

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doting wife - enji x reader

pairing: Enji “Endeavor” Todoroki x Reader rating: 18+ summary: ”Enji,“ You said as you walked through the manor. It was summer and Enji wanted to put you something more traditional during these summer months. So you went through the halls of the manor in nothing bout a yukata decorated with flower and flames to signify who you belonged to. As if your round and active middle didn't give it away. tags: wife!reader, pregnant!reader, smut, rough sex, doggy style, pregnancy kink, breeding kink

”Enji,“ You said as you walked through the manor. It was summer and Enji wanted to put you in something more traditional during these summer months. So you went through the halls of the manor in nothing but a yukata decorated with flowers and flames to signify who you belonged to. As if your round and active middle didn't give it away.

You rubbed your lower back in annoyance, now in month six you were starting to feel the aches and pains of carrying a Todoroki child. You shuffled through the manor and peeked into rooms until you found your husband in the training room.

You were Enji Todoroki's first wife. Quirkless since birth but he didn't care. You would give him the children he desired. He once described your womb as a bare canvas so all the children you had would be more likely to develop a quirk like his than anything else. You took what he said as a compliment, you were giving Enji the family he always wanted. It was your job to be a doting wife and mother in the Todoroki home.

You peeked through the gap on the door and smiled when you saw him. At almost fifty, nothing really stopped him. He was still going strong, you knew for sure his swimmers were growing strong because it only took four months of marriage before you got a pink plus sign. You rubbed your swollen mound and felt a slight movement of your child. You gave a firm yet sweet pat before you opened the sliding doors of the room and went inside.

Enji was lifting weights in the center of the room, the weights, just from the size of them, were heavy. Something a woman like you wouldn't be able to lift, especially not in this state. Yes, there were women heroes, but some women were simply meant to be loving wives.

He looked up at you and put down the weights with a 'thud'. He was sweaty all over and even from a distance you could tell that his skin was hot. He looked at you like a prize, something he won. It didn't take much convincing from your family to let the much older, number one hero wed you. Even if you were wife number two, the amount of money that was left in the wake of him taking you away was more than enough to compensate.

He placed a large hand on your swollen middle, “How is he doing?” His voice was gruff, you remembered the first time you heard it in person, it aroused you in a way. He rubbed your bump and leaned down to kiss you. His wedding ring gleamed in the sunlight that came through the windows.

“He's doing well, a little achy on my hips but I'll survive. Everyone told me it wouldn't be easy, so I have to expect it.” You placed a hand on top of his and beamed up at him.

“Would you like for me to rub your back?” He asked, then reached behind you and put a hand on your lower back, he gently rubbed the skin as he guided you to a yoga mat near the corner of the room.

He loved when you wore outfits like the one he put you in today. He found modern maternity clothes too restrictive, this gave you freedom and movement as you moved through the manor. He helped you down onto the mat where you attempted to sit cross-legged but your belly got in the way.

Maybe he should've taken a wife so small, but to be fair most women were small compared to him. But he believed that you were strong enough to carry his protege. The child that would beat All Might, unlike his other children who failed him. He reached around to your front and undid your yukata. He pulled it down your shoulders until your entire back was exposed. Then he took off your bra, you had complained about how weighty they had become, and he assured you that it came with pregnancy, after all you had to feel a Todoroki. No small feat for anyone.

You sat there and felt the warmth of your husband's skin as he began to massage your sore back. You place your hands on your swollen mound and rub the area. You basked in the feeling of your husband. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and he wanted you to carry his children. He needed a strong, dedicated mother and wife. And in turn he'd make sure you never went without. Your role was to fill the manor and keep those mouths fed and happy.

And after all that's what you wanted in life. A dedicated wife to Endeavor, make sure his legacy lives on after he retires. Create and birth the next number one hero. The thought made you smile as you felt movement in your belly. You felt content, his strong hands worked your tired muscles. Eventually his hands traveled to where your hands were and he began to rub gently at your stretched skin. He felt the movement of his son inside of you and started to kiss your neck.

“We shouldn't.” You whimpered as your fingers locked with his. You made a small noise as his top teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck.

“There's no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” His voice was low. He gripped you hands tightly, “And a wife is always ready for her husband.” He added before he pulled his hands away from yours and began to take the rest of the yukata off your body. Soon you were just left in black maternity underwear that ended below the belly.

He tossed it to the side and began to massage your achy breasts. His calloused thumbs played with your hard nipples as you felt wetness grow between your legs, soaking your panties.

“You look amazing, my love.” He said. His lips grazed your ear, “As a proper woman should look.” His problem with his previous marriage was that he was too focused on quirks. What he wanted was a woman who idolized him like the sun. Someone younger, more traditional leaning. From there she'd raise great children, where one if not all will become great heroes.

The grip on your breasts made you roll your hips a little bit, your heart rate was quickening as you felt the wetness dampen your panties. You probably looked like a big beached whale with that belly, but Enji adored you. And you in turn gave over everything to him. He'd always take care of you, you had nothing to worry your little head about.

“What do you say, my love. Let me take care of you even more.” He leaned you forward and you got on your hands and knees with your ass facing him. He stroked your under belly from between your legs, feeling the movement of the strong son you'll be giving in a few months time.

You moaned when he wrist grazed your sex over your underwear as he pulled his hand away. You felt him take off the black underwear and with your help got it off your thighs. Enji pulled away for a moment before he returned with a yoga ball to give you something to rest against while he pounded into you.

You relaxed yourself but kept steady so as to not roll away. Soon his large fingers were spreading your pussy lips. You clenched in anticipation but relaxed when he inserted the tip. You made a sharp noise and he rubbed your hip as he guided his length into you.

“How's that, my love?” He asked.

“So good, Enji.” You whimpered as you felt the stretch of his cock inside of you. Soon his heavy length was seated inside of your sweet cunt. You were still tight like you were the first time you made love to him. Which was your first time ever with sex.

He started to move his hips quickly, your belly and breasts moved with every rough thrust. He loved his sex hard and fast, he loved watching his partners try to accommodate his size as quickly as possible. He liked when it hurt a little and their poor moans left their mouths as they tried to get him to slow down. When it came to sex, the first goal was procreation and after that it was a place to empty his balls after a tough day.

And he believed his wife should always be ready, and you usually were. Wanting nothing more than to make love to him while he drilled his cock inside of you. You moved your body in time with him, the hard thrusts against a thin yoga mat while your sweaty body clung to the rubber of the yoga ball.

Enji felt under you at your belly and rubbed the mound while using it as leverage to ram his cock inside of you. You voice pierced the air as he continued to fuck you. Your face laid pressed against the ball as he worked your body. You felt like such a sweet hole, a soft cunt for him to release his needs into. He grabbed your belly and groped it to feel what he put inside of you.

No other man will ever have a taste of your sweet sex. He was yours until you both died, you'll never want or need another man in your life. You would only belong to him for the rest of your days. You'd be the proud Todoroki mother he always craved. He could see you now with five, six, maybe seven kids. Enough to fill the empty home you both inhabit.

Your noises were so sweet, he could tell your mouth was hung open as you tried to get as much air as possible. You held on tightly to steady yourself against the wave of thrusts that Enji brought down on you. You swore he was hitting all the sweet spots, you'd like for him to slow down for the sake of the baby but once Enji got something in his head, you couldn't stop him.

"You're beautiful. My beautiful bred wife. With a cunt still as sweet as our wedding night." He groaned as he moved faster. The sounds of sex were louder in the room as he practically dominated you. The idea of you dominating was almost cute, you couldn't even tie your shoes now let alone be on top. You were better on your back or belly anyway. It gave Enji easy access to your sex.

“Thank you, Enji. I love you. I'm happy I married you every day. You make me a better woman every day.“ You lived in your idea of heaven as Enji thrusted away inside of you. You were happy with this life, when you saw your age going out in skimpy clothes you were happy for them, but you were more content with the round middle you sported and the cute traditional maternity clothes Enji picked out for you.

Your belly continued to sway with the movements, soon you placed a hand on your rounded middle and moaned into the rubber. You felt your cunt clench around his cock. The feeling of pleasure coursed through your boy as you felt on the edge of orgasm. You moaned loudly and arched your back and your belly brushed further up against the yoga ball.

“Beautiful. And all mine.“ He responded as he grabbed your ass. He gave a quick swat and groaned over how you tightened once more. The sex was loud and rough, the sensation left you on the edge of your seat.

”Please, Enji! AH!“ And with that you came around his cock, soaking it in your wetness.

”That's it. That's my love. So good.“ He groaned as he continued to thrust his hips. His cock painfully hard inside of you. He too was about to cum . His pace became disorganized as he thrusted hard into you. He grit his teeth and felt his skin run hot as he thrusted into you one last time and finished inside of you.

You moaned into the ball and the thrusting stopped. The obscene sound was made when he pulled his cock out of your abused cock. With a string of cum connecting the two of you. With careful hands Enji got you onto your ass once more onto the mat.

He rubbed your belly and gazed at you, his cock hung soft between his legs. You panted widely as you came down from your high. The feeling was addictive. You looked at the time on the wall clock and quickly got up.

”Where are you going?“ He asked.

”It's time to make dinner. I need to feed you after all!” And stark naked, you waddled out of the room to go back to the kitchen. The sight made him smile as he followed you with your clothes. It was a sight to behold, his happy pregnant wife on her way to make him dinner. What a life.

#enji todoroki #endeavor fanfic #endeavor x reader #enji x reader #enji smut #endeavor smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #mha fanfiction #mha endeavor #mha smut #mha x you #mha #endeavor

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albatmobile · 3 months

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parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] [3] coming soon: [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hated people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun.

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you didn't really want there to be a fourth.

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents.

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her, “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” She nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds.

“Do you?”

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down, “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” you correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know of,” he trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” you repeat his words with an uninterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.”

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” you tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” he says your last name, obeying your correction.

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” you continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway, “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?”

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper.” Is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream.

Most of your material is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The few production videos you’ve done required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It’s a total hassle. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location.

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you.

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many possible chances for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time.

avid_reader began stream

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’

Private streams are a whole different ballgame.

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with, hell, the dude was pretty funny too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one.

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night.

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for.

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway, “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own.

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally pulling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully.

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better.

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something with he way he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist.

“Fuck,” you can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good.

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard.

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!”

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting, while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times.

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year, you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a ‘how are you.’

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now.”

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," you say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” he draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?”

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” you tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” you hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” you repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” he drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” you mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25, for fuck’s sake.

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” he jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” you say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again, “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At the open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms resort to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering emerald gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair.

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour-long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club. It’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight, it feels right.

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead, but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way.

Green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” you say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” he gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

"I-" you blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” he takes a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” you apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-" You start to ramble, but he gently cuts you off.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind,” you watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?”

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” you bite lightly at your lower lip.

“You do like public places, don’t you?”

You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” you agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” he offers lowly.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” he says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops, but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asks lowly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” you can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” he groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” you buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud ‘thump’ that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am.” Out of nowhere, a gruff voice startles the two of you. “Are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused.

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you.

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” he trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason lulls you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you, “Are you good with this?”

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself.” The words are out of your mouth before you can realize it.

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy, as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand.

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer. His lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” you whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that.” With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form, you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Fucking amazing,” you bite your lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans, “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” he groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” he teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust.

“A time or two,” you jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb.

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.”

He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never once leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?”

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” the other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” he mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-" Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes.

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation, “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits.”

“Fair enough,” he mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants.

Jason sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip.

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #dc x reader #x reader #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars

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the-possum-writes · 9 months

Note

You may have gotten a request like this already so please ignore it if you have!

I really enjoy your works so far and I'd like to request the nsfw alphabet with Marshall Lee if that's something you'd like to do! Gender neutral or afab anatomy if that's okay but I really don't mind if you keep it fully gender neutral!

I hope this request finds you well and happy! Thank you for your time to read this ask and for sharing your work, it's very enjoyable to read! (It also helps that I adore possums hehe)

[Marshall Lee NS/FW Alphabet]

Tags: NS/FW, mentions of voyeurism, hcs, dirty alphabet

A/n: Thanks for requesting! Ya'll eating good tonight-! This is for the AT version of Marshall, the F&C Marshall would probs have some differences without the whole vampire thing.

A = Aftercare

Marshall doesn't need sleep so he'll help you clean up asap and lay in bed with you so his low body temperature can help ya cool off, he would also sing you to sleep in compensation if he went too rough on you.

B = Body part

Regarding his partner's, he's fond of your chest. He doesn't breathe so he likes seeing it rise and fall whenever you're panting, and enjoys listening to your heartbeat during cuddle sessions.

As for his body, he likes every aspect of it but if he had to choose it would probably be his eyes. They're the first thing someone sees when he's lurking in the dark.

C= Cum

Slick like glue, and lacks any kind of odor or taste (I guess it's because he's a supernatural creature). He doesn't produce an exaggerated amount of cum in a single shot but he's determined enough to fill you up until it's sliding down your thigh, no matter how many rounds it takes.

D= Dirty Secret

Marshall snuck into your house once cause he wanted to gonna prank you by hiding your toothbrush and other stuff but he accidentally floated in on you in a private time and didn't leave until you finished. Nowadays he knocks before visiting you, but there are times where he touched himself to that memory.

E= Experience

Marshall has been around for thousand years, he knows his likes and dislikes regarding stuff done to him, and what he likes in a partner. He's confident in his performance as well, he has skill and learns fast, he knows that he'll find and exploit your weak points that'll have you sobbing in a good way.

F= Favourite Position

The dude can fly, he likes having you cowgirl (or reverse cowgirl) style while on mid air even though you've told him how dangerous it is.

G= Goofy

Though he gets heavily feral most of the time Marshall is a versatile man who can still crack a laugh even at the most heated times, if he's feeling playful and is on a full teasing rampage he'd use wordplay/puns that depend on the location you two are at.

H= Hair

Marshall is well trimmed but not fully shaved, his pubes are just as dark and wavy as his hair. However, sometimes he'd occasionally try to do funny patterns and would walk out of the bathroom bare ass naked and ask. "Does this look like a bat to you?"

I= Intimacy

Okay so we all know Marshall portrays himself as the residential bad boy and everyone buys it, but in reality he keeps his relationships at an arms length since he's lost people close to him. The guy craves intimacy and it's evident in the small affectionate gestures during sex like how he intertwineds his fingers in your hands, and after sex, he's got his legs tangled in yours, plays with your hair and rests his head on your beating chest.

J= Jack Off

In the early years of vampire hunting he couldn't allow himself a single moment of vulnerability even if his hormones were getting the best of him, but in current times in Aaa where he isn't always on guard he wanks it on occasion here and there when he's lacking company. Once he starts dating you he can't help but stoke himself in front of you when you touch yourself for him.

K= Kink

Pray/Predator play:

He loves playing the part so much. On a full moon he will give you a 10 minute headstart to let you run loose through the woods in that white transparent nightgown he likes so much (fits your role as the helpless victim) as he shape shifts into a wolf or a giant bat and hunts you down by the scent of your arousal alone.

Size difference:

Okay hear me out on this- The guy can shape shift, it would be impossible that he wouldn't develop a knack out of it (especially with the prey/predator thing) when he's near you. He gets a thrill out of it when he's in his bat form, slowly diving you down on his shaft until your thighs come in contact with his fur.

Blood kink:

At first he wasn't interested since he had enough fighting those bloodsuckers (and because it's an obvious thing for him to have). So everyday he fought the blood kink allegations but after years of denying it, its become a new curiosity. He doesn't need to drink the stuff to survive but there's something euphoric about yours that tastes better than any shade of crimson, he'd avoid your neck the first few times but would obtain it from you inner thigh, it's like biting into a lovely jelly donut.

Voyeurism:

It's rude to spy on others but Marshall is well known to watch over others regardless if they're aware of it or not, you'd learn it the hard way when he caught sight of you touching yourself in your private time. In recent times you purposely masturbate in front of him as he sits back in a comfy seat but only after kicking his ass for being a creep.

Exhibitionism: He doesn't mind taking things in a public space like a bathroom stall or just outside a party, he already has his initials marked all over Aaa so a quickie is just another way to mark his place as his.

Praise kink: can't get enough when hearing you say how much you love him, how good he feels inside you or the sensation of his mouth all over you.

L= Location

Anywhere, anytime. The only place he refuses to go is the Nightosphere cause his mom has eyes and ear everywhere and those pesky demons would rattle him out and before he know it his mom is asking for grandchildren.

M= Motivation

It takes so little to rile him up but the fastest way is when you're wearing on of his band shirts.

N= NO

Alright hot take. Although he jokes around with it sometimes; Marshall refuses to actually bite your neck with his fangs. Sure he'll nibble on your neck and bite your shoulder but his fangs never really pierce the skin of your jugular, it brings bad memories of his own forceful transformation and how it made him feel.

O= Oral

Appreciates anyone who's brave enough to let his teeth near their privates.

P= Pace

He goes rough and fast, he knows he gets too carried away but he forgets it right away when he sees you enjoy it as much as he does.

Q= Quickie

Doesn't mind them.

R= Risk

Definitely a risk taker. There's many ways to turn him on and he'd love to share them with you, his safe word is probably something like batshit or fries.

S= Stamia

Impecable. Unless you're a supernatural creature you can't match up with his subhuman self.

T= Toy

Marshall likes them both on himself and on his partner, he likes the dildo varities in particular (when he needs to prepare you for his bat form) and how crazy some designs can get.

U= Unfair

Ultimate tease, if you start taunting Marshall he's gonna return it in an instant. Doesn't care if you're out in public he'll get handsy with you as punishment, and dear glob have mercy on you in the bedroom cause he'd edge that bratty attitude out of you.

V= Volume

He isn't as vocal compared to you when he takes the lead, he would mostly let out an occasional hiss or groan intertwined with his dirty talk or teasing. Buuut, if he's the one on the receiving end he'll cry, whine and moan like a bish.

W= Wild Card

If it wasn't because of his vampire regeneration abilities he'd get dick piercings.

X= x-ray

A nice 9 inches long with a slight curve upwards, he's long but a bit on the slender side like most of his body, it's color is just as pale too but halfway it leads to a small dark gray tip.

Y= Yearning

High libido, watch out. Although he doesn't need to eat or sleep he can still feel lust and hunger which become stronger the longer his needs go unfulfilled.

Z= Zzz

He doesn't really sleep much nor does he get exhausted easily, if he's with a mortal partner he'd pretend to sleep just to keep you company or sing/ play a lullaby on his guitar for you.

#adventure time x reader #Marshall lee #marshall lee x reader #reader insert #nsft alphabet #I'll have to look up more positions cause I was completely dry on that part tbh lol

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pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid · 2 months

Text

A lil rant about my experience with this god forsaken fandom

I made this blog around 2020 when I was 13 years old. This was my first shot at a dedicated fandom blog and I was pretty excited for it, to make friends, draw fanart, post fun stuff and what not.

All fun right? Right, so tell me why was it that literal 20 years olds felt the need to harass me, a then 13 year old girl with a relatively small blog, for the dumbest reasons possible?

What did I do that subjected me to 2 and a half years worth constant daily threats and harassment? Hmm???

You wanna know my crime? Apparently I showed interest in an antagonist character, which is so awful that grown adults felt the need to bully me. And following those adults came young impressionable people my age, that joined the bandwagon of hate against me.

As if other fandoms don’t have people literally dedicating themselves to a villain, no one bats an eye to that. Why did this fandom have such an issue? I also apparently dared to criticise the main character for a few of his flaws. Such a horrible thing to do right? I need to be burnt at the stake for it right?

I didn’t follow the “fixed” standards of the fandom so I was to be sent de*th/r*pe threats daily?? For not following the “rules” I was to be ostracised?

No please someone explain…I’m but a dumb bitch, I don’t understand what I did so terribly wrong to deserve this? Did I start a war? Did I rip open someone’s plush? Did I bully someone for not having the same ideology as me?

No it was but the fandom itself that for some reason found it so fun to bully a 13 year old, send her de*th and r*pe threats all because of not being of pjo fandom standards…let’s go and bombard her with hate!!

Do you realise how fucking stupid…this all sounds? Do you realise how low this is? Was bullying a child so fun? So trendy at the time?

Then came the victim blaming- I laugh everytime I remember people saying I must have done something really bad to get such harassment, that it’s all for attention. What kid wants to get hate everyday of their life for 2 whole fucking years? Tell me?

You know wanna know what I did wrong? Fight back, call the hate anons out for their bigotry. I was vocal about it, that’s what I did wrong right? Stand my ground? People said to ignore it and I did. But I still got bullied daily even if I didn’t respond. What was all this for?

I can imagine people asking why I didn’t simply leave the fandom? Why the fuck should I? I enjoy the stories, I enjoy the characters, they were my escape from real life struggles. It was the bullying I didn’t enjoy. Everyday I’d log on to enjoy posts and a few minutes later when the bigots found out I was active I was sent an anonymous threat.

Many of my oldest friends had to reduce the amount they interacted with me in fear of receiving harassment themselves. The extent of this is bigotry is beyond my understanding.

I did not deserve this much suffering AND ALL FOR WHAT? A STUPID LITTLE REASON THAT HAS BARELY ANY WEIGHT TO IT. Do people even realise the extent of what happened is beyond me. And Idc if I sound selfish, I want a fucking apology from all those bigots. I want compensation for the 2 and a half years of abuse I endured alone. I just want this bigotry to end, which surprise surprise! Still continues to happen.

Why do I bring this up now that it’s all over you ask? I’ve actually brought it up once before, but it was swept under the rug, (My deepest appreciation to the very few people who supported me when I first talked about it) I’m just finally being more vocal, because this has stuck with me. For all those 4 years this has stuck with me. It doesn’t mean if it’s over for now that all the trauma doesn’t linger. It still affects me to this day.

In fact I’m still being stalked by one of the people who sent me hate anons. One of the hate anons was revealed to be one of my bestest friends, they had admitted this to me and had the nerve to beg me to still remain friends. They were also the person who groomed me. They have left the fandom scene and I’ve rid of them from my life but they still continue to stalk me.

What do I get from ranting about all this? A bit of solace, a bit of weight off my shoulders. But nearly not enough for me to actually fucking heal. I also want people to realise how bigoted some are and how horrible the mentality of “fixed fandom standards/ideologies” is and that we as a fandom need to fucking change. Heck I know this issues in every fandom. But can we at least start with ours for a change for once?

Along side all of this there’s also a lot of racism and trans/homophobia that still actively prevails. Just look at what Leah went through when her casting was announced. Did she deserve all of that?? “Not my annabeth” do you realise how horrible that is to say to a CHILD? She is Annabeth whether you like it or not. And you are very welcome to leave if you wish to stick to your stupid racist nonsense.

I bet there are many others who have probably suffered the same may it not be for the same reasons, but everyone of them deserve their apologies and compensation as well.

Idc if I’ll get hate for this. I said what I said. I’m just so done.

#trigger warning #tw hate #I was also informed I was being mocked in group chats and there were sick rumours about me.#i won’t give a fuck if I get harassed again cux this literally shows how low this fandom will get #there’s so many layers to this I haven’t even gone into detail on #but I just want atleast this off of my chest. I was shaking and short of breath as I wrote this #I wish to thank all my oldest moots and friends that stuck by me despite everything. I cannot express how thankful I am to you guys #love you all tons.#what do u mean by compensation? just an apology from the same people who hurt me. which is nearly impossible. but idc I want to find them #and confront them. I need to bring my 13 year old self justice for what she went through. I pushed her feelings aside when this was over #but she never healed. I’m hoping she gets a bit of peace for now.#pjo fandom #percy jackson fandom #fandom toxicity

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heartdaichi · 2 years

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I WILL SURVIVE … MAYBE (oikawa, suna, bokuto, sakusa)

dumbification + somnophlia + dubcon + fingering + degrading // 18+ content ahead. minors dni.

synopsis : NNN hcs — who does or doesn’t make it, and how long does it take them to give in?

OIKAWA — fails : 2 weeks.

“it’s no nut november, right?” oikawa asks slyly, pulling you onto his lap and securing his hands on your waist. “that basically means that as long as i don’t physically cum, i make it through, which means you owe me 20 dollars.”

“i’m not sure that’s how it works, tooru.”

“why not?” by this point, he’s pulling at the waistband of your shorts. “it’s no nut november, not no sex november.”

there was no point in arguing with him, and in a matter of seconds he had you pressed down into the couch, thrusting shallowly into your tight heat and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. the poor man was so riled up at the sight of your slacked jaw and tear brimmed eyes that he completely forgot about not cumming, filling your cunt with sticky ropes of white.

when you finally come to, the first thing you demand from oikawa is your money, plus extra to compensate for his big headed attitude.

SUNA — barely makes it

on november 30th at 11:59pm, rintarou suna is hard. this is the moment he’s been thinking about all month and he lays awake in bed, his hands pinned to his side as he struggles for the very last minute of no nut november.

on december 1st at midnight, suna is shaking you awake. “it’s december, doll,” he whispers in your ear, immediately shoving his hand into your panties. you moan groggily as he rubs at your clit, gently manoeuvring you onto your back. “you gonna give me my reward?”

“let me sleep, rin,” you gripe, weakly trying to shove him away. “ ‘m tired.”

suna doesn’t listen. he’s been waiting for this moment all month, and you don’t entirely seem to mind as he sinks into your wet folds, letting out a sigh of relief as he slowly starts to move.

later that morning, you wake up to a completely knocked out rintarou suna, and a pleasant surprise between your legs.

BOKUTO — fails : 5 hours.

“god, i missed this cunt,” bokuto groans into your ear, his hips slamming into yours and his hands bruising your waist as he drags you along his dick. “this no nut november thing was bullshit, babe, you know i was never gonna do it.”

“you could’ve at least held out a day,” you choke, head buried into the pillow. “you’re acting like you lasted a week.”

“5 hours is like a week to me,” he retorts, snaking his arm round your tummy and rubbing at your clit. bokuto almost whines at the feeling of your gummy walls clenching around him, your juices oozing out and creating a translucent ring of white around the base of his cock. “you gotta admit, you missed me too.”

you roll your eyes: half out of pleasure and half out of pure sarcasm.

SAKUSA — makes it (much to your annoyance)

you honestly thought sakusa wouldn’t make it. you thought he would break on the third week and finally take you against a wall or over a counter but he didn’t, and you were starting to get restless.

you tried. you really had, but no amount of short shorts or braless t-shirts could rile him up enough to actually fuck you. even when you got on your knees in front of him and begged him to fuck you like the nasty slut you were, sakusa did not budge. at all.

instead, he used it to turn the tables on you.

“this is what you wanted so badly, right?” sakusa’s voice is low in your ear as he coaxes another orgasm out of you, his fingers buried knuckle deep in your poor little cunt. “you beg me to fuck you for weeks on end but can’t even take my fingers? pathetic.”

“omi … want your cock so bad,” you whine, eyelids flickering as his thumb rubs at your clit. “please…”

“no can do, love,” he says, clearly unaffected by your begging. “you said the whole of november, didn’t you?”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #hq oikawa #oikawa x reader #hq suna #suna x reader #hq bokuto #bokuto x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa x reader #ʚɞ locked + loaded.#no nut november #ʚɞ haikyuu !!

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mjjune · 1 year

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How To Have a Good Beta Reading Experience (or: what I've learned from 3 years of beta reading)

So lately I've been having a lot of discussions about beta reading with my discord groups so I thought I would write it out here and also share some resources I've used over the years.

This is mostly by and for writers, however readers can learn from this post as well!

DISCLAIMER: I'm by no means a writing expert, but I have been either beta reading others' books, or having my own stories beta read consistently since 2020. THIS IS ALL PERSONAL EXPERIENCE/OPINION. Others may agree or disagree ❤️

Here are the main points I'm going to talk about in this post, and I'll do it under the cut to save your dash space:

Understanding Alpha vs. Beta Readers

Choosing Readers

Being Clear About Feedback

Swapping / Compensation

The Importance of Writing Community/Groups

Websites/Resources for Finding Beta Readers

1. Understanding Alphas vs. Betas

So this is extremely important and for me, this may be the difference between me finishing your book or not. Many times, especially from new writers who had never had anyone read their work before, had extremely rough drafts that were barely coherent and were NOT beta ready, but asked me to beta read. I am not a person who can look past extensive grammar errors, nor am I the kind of person who will sit and fix all your grammar line-by-line for you.

Alpha Readers - for first/second drafts

Beta Readers - for polished drafts

It is ok for alpha reads to be unpolished and have grammar issues, and it's even ok if they have plot issues, continuity errors, etc. Because alpha readers are there for that purpose: to be the first eyes on your story and help you find and fix those issues.

The issue I have had over and over, though, is people asking for a beta reader when what they really needed was an alpha. I went in expecting a polished draft and got someone's Draft 0. In some cases, I got 100k drafts where the writer obviously had no idea how to format dialogue grammar and every single dialogue was wrong. Obviously this made me slow and in many cases, unable to finish.

Alpha readers will go in expecting it to be unpolished, and will be prepared to look past grammar/stylistic errors in order to focus on the big picture issues (plot holes, character consistency, pacing/engagement issues, etc). A Beta may be too frustrated by an unpolished draft to finish it or provide the feedback you're looking for. If you have been experiencing a lot of betas backing out and not finishing your work, you might consider this as a possible reason why.

I would also recommend, if you have never had anyone read your work before, even if you have had multiple drafts, it might be safest to ask for alphas rather than betas.

A quick way to see if your work is beta ready (again, personal experience): Pick up a published book from the shelf in your genre. Does your book read similarly? Does your formatting & grammar look the same? Bonus: read it out loud! If reading the published book out loud is significantly easier than reading yours out loud, you're probably in the alpha stage.

TL;DR: Understand your draft and which level of reader your draft is ready for. Know the difference between polished and unpolished, and be upfront about it.

2. Choosing Alphas/Betas

You may not like it but: Just because someone is your friend, real life or online, does not mean they will make a good reader for you.

#1 MOST IMPORTANT: GET READERS WHO LIKE & REGULARLY READ YOUR GENRE!

I cannot stress this enough. As someone who writes vampire content, I cannot begin to express to you the amount of useless comments I got from readers who had clearly never read a vampire book in their life.

You need someone who is familiar with your genre and you likes your synopsis/blurb.

Caveat: that said, I did find a few great betas who had never read vampire content before and gave awesome feedback. However, these readers knew and admitted they knew nothing about the paranormal genre, and because of that did not make any comments on worldbuilding, instead sticking to plot and character development only. Some readers can't make this separation.

Another thing I would recommend, especially if you are swapping or the beta reader is also a writer/on writeblr, I would recommend reading their writing before having them beta read. If you read their excerpts and see that it's really unpolished or a style that's vastly different than yours, that might change whether you want them to read for you.

In my most recent beta round, I used a google form to do a quick survey to see who was interested in beta reading. This worked really well for me and I would recommend it! You can also use this to make all potential readers agree to not share/distribute/plagiarize your work, so you have it in writing just in case someone were to try something.

This was also a great way to see which genres they usually read and how many times they have beta read in the past!

TL;DR: Get readers who LIKE your genre. Read their writing and see how they write. Use an online signup form to narrow down.

3. Be Clear About The Type of Feedback You Want

This is perhaps the second most important thing when you get readers. Many readers will shy away from reading your work if you have nothing in mind for them to look out for. Also, being clear about this shows that you 1) know it isn't perfect and needs work and 2) you have insight into what the issues already are.

For Alphas, these traits are what I have found to be the most helpful:

Immediate inline reactions - particularly emotional engagement and pointing out lines that resonated with them

NO grammar/stylistic comments (unless incomprehensible)

Questioning of worldbuilding, character decisions, and character development - particularly if confusing or unclear

Comments on action sequences & their readability

Comments on believability of the plot points/progression

For Betas, these are what have been most helpful to me:

Comments on grammar, especially if repetitive

Stylistic comments, particularly for over-used words or noticeably repetitive sentence structures

Comments on pacing

Comments on plot initiation point and buildup/execution of the climax

Not questioning my worldbuilding/plot and trusting that what I have written is intentional. Only pointing out areas that have on-page evidence of inconsistencies.

Everything above is simply personal preference. You might find other comments to be better for alphas/betas. However, being upfront about which comments you want or don't want can drastically change which people want to read for you!

Some readers are obsessed with in-depth inline grammar/style comments, some aren't at all. Some writers LOVE these in-depth grammar comments, and some don't. Being clear about what you want is the best way to make sure you and your readers are compatible for the stage of editing you're at.

4. Swapping / Compensation

So this one I might have a bit of an unpopular opinion, but I wanted to cover it because so many people talk about it on here and other sites.

Again, based on my personal experience, swapping and compensation does not mean you're going to get better feedback or have a better experience or relationship with readers.

For the record, for everyone who beta reads for me—and finishes—I always offer to read theirs, even if it's a genre I don't like.

Personally, I have never tried compensation (re: money) for beta readers. However, there are a few issues I've come across with swapping:

Mine was beta ready and theirs was unpolished first draft

Our types of feedback didn't align

Our genre preferences didn't align

Their feedback was nowhere near as high quality or constructive as mine

In these cases, one or both of us burnt out on reading the others' work, and then we'd both bail. Especially with #4, it was very disheartening for me to spend hours finding their plot holes, helping them come up with ways to fix them, for them to then write 1 paragraph about what they thought of my story that was extremely surface level. To me, that wasn't even a swap, and was practically worthless. There was even one who got sensitive about the feedback I was providing (which was a queer sensitivity read) and then left almost identical comments on my story, which weren't even relevant. It was like revenge-commenting.

All this to say: I have had positive experiences with swaps. My alpha for twtr was a swap and I really enjoy her work and she enjoys mine, and we will probably continue to swap forever.

This goes back to #2 above: be picky & choose your readers well. Your story is your baby, and it deserves to be critiqued by people who value you and your story, and want to help you make it the best possible version of itself.

To summarize, I have had two good swapping experiences. I have had 10+ good uncompensated betas—with an offer for me to read their stuff when it's ready. Do with that what you will.

5. Writing Community / Groups

On to a more positive note! I have had the best experience here on writeblr, and this is coming from someone who has tried multiple other communities (which I discuss in the last section below). Having my own discord server from tumblr, joining a few other writers' discord servers, has completely changed the game regarding finding consistent betas, more resources, and just having an overall much more positive time writing and editing.

Writeblr keeps me grounded, keeps me hopeful, and even if I share something that doesn't get tons of notes, it's so nice to have interaction. It's so nice to give and get back, consistently.

I do want to emphasize the importance of giving to get back. If no one is liking/interacting with your excerpts, tag/ask games, etc. then that's probably because you're not interacting with them! It's very important to show interest in other people's work!!

I'm not saying you need to jump onto everyone's taglists for all their wips, but join the ones that genuinely interest you the most. Play in ask/tag games consistently. Follow writers back who follow you (if they post things you're interested in, ofc).

I have the same amount of followers as the people I follow right now, and I think that goes to show that people reciprocate here on writeblr! It's a lovely community and don't be afraid to reach out ❤️

I have found almost ALL my recent betas from my tumblr and discord groups. They have been lovely so far and I would highly recommend building up community here if you are interested in finding betas.

6. Websites/Resources for Finding Betas

Alright, last section. Thanks for bearing with me. I'm going to go through the sites I have used, and why I still use them, or why I dropped them.

Scribophile

So, for starters, this is one I don't use anymore. This was the site I first used when I had a polished draft in 2020 and had no idea how to get feedback. Essentially, they have a point-system. The more comments you make, the more points you get, and then when you have 3 points, you can post a chapter. It continues in a cycle.

Pros: Personally, I think the site helped me a lot in realizing what a bad critique looks like (which is helpful!) and also helped me learn which comments/feedback types work for me, and which don't. I don't regret my time there by any means, and I found one life-long friend and beta reader there I wouldn't trade for the world. It also allows you to post/remove your story and the readers don't have direct access to it—meaning if they want to download/steal/plagiarize, they'd have to copy and paste or screenshot chapter by chapter. It's a little safety precaution.

Cons: It's not the best place to get constructive feedback. The issue with their system is it encourages quantity over quality in critiques. Because of that, you'll get strangers rewriting your entire chapter in their own style so they get 2-3 points for one critique, but... was any of it actually helpful to you? Maybe, maybe not. It's also random, so you can't control who comments on your stuff, and they might just comment to get points even if they hate your genre. I also don't think it's fair to have to do 3-5 chapter critiques in order to save up enough points to post ONE chapter of your own. And if you want to post your story for full beta reads and control who reads it and who doesn't, you have to subscribe monthly.

So I keep an eye on it occasionally to look through their forums on writing, agents, publishing, etc. But most of the forums gets nasty, because there are a lot of really pretentious writers who think they know all the rules. If you join small groups (e.g. sub-groups based on diversity, etc) they tend to have better and more meaningful discussions.

Personally, I would never use it for beta/alpha/feedback ever again. This is the site where most of my bad swaps came from. But you might find it useful! So I thought I would share it.

Nanowrimo Forums

This is another one I don't use anymore, but might consider reusing in the future. The biggest issue I have with nanowrimo is that a lot, and I mean A LOT, of these participants are first-time writers and have no concept of what polished vs. unpolished even means. I did find two really good swaps there (actually the only two good full swaps I've had) but those were very hard to find.

There is also the issue that a good chunk of them only write during November, not year round. So for finding consistent, year-long partners, this is not the best option. I'm a member of 2 discords that have all fallen silent as soon as Nano actually ended.

Also, in my experience, asking questions about anything related to "controversial" topics (especially trans and minority ethnic groups) becomes toxic very quick, which is unfortunate. There are even a few moderators who seem to be contributing to the toxic/immature discussions rather than fixing them/shutting them down, which is the main reason I stopped using it.

However, it's a GREAT place to get free, simple covers! Their artisan section is fantastic and there are a lot of people there willing to make basic covers/banners for you for free.

BetaBooks

I've only been using this one about a month so far, but I'm really liking it. It's set up that you can invite betas to your story specifically, or you can look through a beta reader library, read their profiles, and invite them to see if they're interested.

This is essentially an alternative to Scribophile. It allows you to post your story online and find betas and become a beta.

Why I like it better than Scribophile: it's not a point-based system, meaning it's uncompensated so the readers have nothing to gain other than enjoying/helping your story. There's no hard feelings if someone bails. It allows you to see all comments in one place (which Scrib can't do). (And with discount codes found through google, it's cheaper, too. Message me if you need help with this 👀)

It also is all online, easily removable, so readers would have to copy/paste or screenshot chapter-by-chapter to steal it. So again, just a little safety net that makes me feel better.

Writeblr

Yep, that's right. Right here. Actually right here on tumblr has been where I have found the most beta readers and in the shortest time. I talked about this in the section before so I won't regurgitate. But there's a reason why this community is so long-lasting. It really is the best one out there I've found.

TL;DR / IN CONCLUSION:

Know where your book is in terms of reader-readiness. Know the difference between alphas/betas and polished/unpolished. Know the types of feedback that work for you and specifically request it when recruiting betas.

Interact with a community. Give interaction in order to receive, and don't expect people to reblog/like your content if you don't reach out first. Join small, niche writing community discords. Find like-minded writers.

Decide to swap or not, but this won't make or break you.

There are many writing communities out there designed to help you not only find betas, to provide beta-reading feedback forms and commentary. Try them out and see what works best for you.

And above all, thank Writeblr for being such a lovely community ❤️

#writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #writerblr #writer community #writing community #novel writing #beta readers #fantasy writing #wtwcommunity #mj posts #mj mumbles #mj talks about beta reading #100 #300 #500

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runabout-river · 6 months

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It has happened now, a JJK artist on Twitter is in critical condition after being shelled by the Israeli Army in Gaza while sheltering inside a school. Reportedly, she lost an eye.

The screenshot is from a friend who barely manages to keep in contact with Noury with a family member's phone. This of course is Israel's tactic to cut communication from Gaza. The world isn't supposed to see the genocide and at least the amount of reports and eye witness accounts have dropped since because most people simply can't communicate their suffering to the world anymore.

This is the picture Noury drew before Israel decided to finally cleanse the Gaza Strip like it always wanted thanks to an exaggerated death count of a provoked military response, undisclosed shelling by the IOF of their own citizens and lies of 40 beheaded babies.

The caption of this piece of art reads "Please don't take my sunshine away," a response to chapter 236 and Gojo Satoru's apparent death.

Think back to that time. A favorite character of yours dies in a manga and you either draw or look at drawings of him to deal with that. Then a war starts that had been brewing for 75 years because Jewish Extremists and Supremacist with the backing from the war hungry US want you dead.

You know what I thought this entire time? That it's statistically unlikely that the one JJK artist from Gaza that I follow will be a victim in this war. There are 2.2 million people in Gaza but there's only one Noury, so what's the chance that something is going to happen to her?

What an absurd thought that turned out to be. I've been writing and raging on Tumblr about the genocide again and again and I know the severity of it, I know the numbers. I've seen the pictures and videos of dead children with their faces, not their heads, turned over like the pages of a book.

But most of that, the sheer enormity and the scale of it, was still abstract in my mind. Now, outside of the dry and clinical fact of it, the human element made me realize in my heart and mind that this is a genocide.

1 person among 2.2 million getting harmed isn't a statistical probability of 0.00001 percent. It's 100% because everyone is the target. Every Palestinian in Gaza is targeted with deprivation, hunger, thirst, illnesses and bombs. That is ethnic cleansing. That is the threat of genocide.

And the US, the UK and the EU, they're all complicit in this genocide and because I'm from Germany I'm also explicitly saying that Olaf Scholz, Marco Buschmann and Nancy Faeser are also complicit in this new holocaust.

Hopefully Noury will recover and hopefully she and her family and everyone else in Gaza will be able to go back to their homes. Homes btw, that per international law, Israel is supposed to replace or compensate for after destroying them.

Of course you don't need to compensate for anything if no one is there anymore, either because they're dead or they moved to another country involuntaryily.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #free palestine #israel #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #genocide #germany #deutschland

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ggomos-maribat · 10 months

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7 | in which Marinette gets a new career: making Lex Luthor's life an absolute hell

Part 7 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Sometimes, Bruce gave Marinette additional work that was stipulated nowhere in their contract.

Scratch that, he gave her a lot of work that wasn't part of the contract. Marinette wouldn't complain, obviously, since she was paid extra but occasionally, the additional chores became troublesome.

Nonetheless, there was also extra work that she absolutely enjoyed doing. The type of work that she would've done even if she wasn't compensated. Hell, she'd pay Bruce just to accomplish the task. One such assignment was set for the WE gala.

That night, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the director, and her boss was the star of the show.

She was clad in a modest dress for the big night: gray, calf-length, minimal accessories, pointed heels. The most important part of her outfit, however, was the earpiece discreetly disguised with her hairpin, which put her in a direct line with Bruce.

She peered through the glass windows of the venue, seeing the gala in its grandeur. Fashionably late. That's what they called it. It worked when one wanted to draw attention, because with nearly everyone already present, a metaphorical spotlight would drop down from the sky.

She pressed a button on her earpiece, tucking her tablet close to her chest. "All ready to go, Mr. Wayne."

And of course, since he was Bruce Wayne, he delivered. Heads turned and skirts swished as he made his splendid entrance, just at the right level of 'fashionably late', Brucie-style. He grinned his shiniest grin and immediately greeted the elite guests of the gala he hosted.

Marinette slipped into the threshold herself. "May I remind you not to act too drunk tonight, you're too old for that and it's just going to look sleazy."

"Of course, Marinette, thank you." He replied just as stealthily. "I trust you'll take care of the rest?"

Her lip curled upwards. "Oh, I intend to."

She took her position near the grand staircase, halfway blending in with the shadows. That amount of stealth would rival Alfred's or even Cassandra's. She just had to play another face in the crowd, someone barely noteworthy.

Then, she'll enjoy the show from her earpiece.

Target spotted. There was Lex Luthor in all his Mr. Clean glory, hanging out with other guests dressed fancily by the banquet table. At first, Marinette was quite surprised he accepted the invitation to a Wayne gala. But then she thought that Luthor would probably push his pride aside just to keep up appearances.

But it was amusing to see that a few of the people crowded around him left to flock to Bruce Wayne.

Her gaze turned towards her boss. He was dressed a bit differently than his usual gala outfit: a flashy golden suit with black markings on the fabric. They commissioned the design from M.D.C., but lent the production to WE's clothing department. Seeing the suit play its role proved that it truly helped Bruce steal the show.

Marinette waited until Luthor was closer to the table. Then she headed straight to it, swiping a mini fruit tart for herself to cover up the nimbleness of her fingers. Poor clueless Luthor, she thought when she successfully retreated back to the staircase.

The effects didn't take too long to see. As soon as Luthor moved to walk with the person he was chatting with, the tablecloth followed him, and so did the rest of the plates, utensils, bowls, and the gorgeous wine tower. The crash was like music to Marinettte's ears as heads turned and Luthor stared gobsmacked at the mess he'd accidentally caused.

The mess he undeniably caused, since the part of the tablecloth was still pinched between his belt and slacks.

The silence was deliciously deafening.

Until one jovial voice cut through.

"Lexie!" Bruce gently pushed past the group swarming around him. "Are you alright?"

Luthor's mouth opened. And closed again. Opened. Closed. "I didn't—how did . . ."

"My my, have you drunk too much wine?" Bruce's gaze swept over the ruined table which the staff were trying to clean up. "You've got to be a little careful, Lex."

Whispers rampaged within the crowd.

Luthor, seemingly trying to hold onto his composure, forced out a laugh. "That's funny, I barely drank tonight."

Bruce nodded sympathetically. "They say your tolerance does go down with old age. If you're feeling dizzy, you can rest upstairs—"

"No!" Luthor suddenly yelled. But immediately after, he cleared his throat and said in a softer tone, "No, thank you. Bruce. I'm feeling okay. I apologize for the mess I caused; I'll make sure to compensate for everything."

Marinette was nearly proud of the faux but extremely convincing smile that Bruce put on. "Very well. How about I help you get a new suit? It seems that some of the wine has stained yours."

***

Tim wasn't in the gala (he was both extremely sleep-deprived and unwilling to go), so Marinette took the liberty of sharing a video of Luthor's incident to him, which he would probably be sending to the family group chat. She conversed with the young CEO for a while, receiving praises on her skills as she waited for her target to come back.

It didn't take long for Luthor to return, all cleaned up like nothing happened. Although there were considerably fewer people who wanted to be near him. It was funny, to Marinette, how Luthor seemed to avoid the table as well.

Unfortunately for you, that doesn't make you safe. Unbeknownst to the general public, the gala venue was extremely dynamic since it was designed to cater almost any event. There were panels and advanced machinery controlling parts of the area, including the elevated stage that doubled as a gallery for the charity's exhibit.

The one who had guest access to the control was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She just had to be patient. Luthor moved around a lot, likely because he didn't want to be caught off guard. He had stepped up onto the stage following an exec who was proud to show the gallery. At the time they came down, Marinette pressed a button on her tablet to make the steps move.

With a smack, Luthor's face met the polished floor.

Dramatic gasps echoed around. Faces of concern, some of indifference, others mocking. Like the hero he was, Bruce rushed to Luthor's side to offer a helping hand.

Luthor looked just about to slap his hand away, but he accepted it with a firm grip instead with an overly forced grin.

"Maybe you should lie down after all, Lexie," Bruce pouted. "You can't even walk straight."

The other man laughed a little too loudly. "No need to make it a big deal. It was just an accident."

Bruce clapped him on the back. "No need to be shy around me, hm? Tell me when you need to get some rest."

Whoa, that blood vessel is ready to pop on his head, Marinette observed when Luthor broke away from Bruce and stalked towards the drinks table near her in irritation. He poured out a drink for himself—

"Lexie, why did you run off? You should stay with me, you might cause another accident!" Bruce cried out.

Luthor whirled around. "That—that's a tempting offer, but I shouldn't trouble you," he said through gritted teeth.

"You look really red. I think you should step away from the wine . . ."

"I barely had a sip!"

Luthor turned back around to pick up his glass but it was gone. Meanwhile, Marinette brought the glass to her lips, savoring the expensive wine. She unintentionally locked eyes with Luthor, who looked like he realized who stole his drink. No one will ever believe you if you try to tell them, Marinette inwardly said. Giving him her most feral smile, she downed the drink in one go.

"That!" Luthor jabbed a finger in her direction. "Bruce! Isn't that your assistant?! She's the one causing trouble for me the whole night!"

"My assistant? Lexie, you must be seeing things! I gave her the night off—why would I need my assistant at a gala?"

At the moment Luthor forced him to look, Marinette had already slipped away somewhere else as if she'd vanished.

***

To other people who didn't know of Bruce's alter ego, it would be a mystery why he never had bodyguards with him. But to those in the know (exempli gratia, Marinette) it made sense, since Bruce had to slip in and out in times of emergencies and can defend himself pretty well. Marinette also had prior knowledge that Bruce sometimes let himself be captured to comply with the act. This kind of situation was one Marinette never wished to witness.

They were heading to a hotel for an investor and partnership meeting. Only Marinette, Bruce and the driver were in the limousine when the vehicle grinded to a halt. Peering towards the driver's seat, Marinette saw that the driver had slumped on top of the wheel.

"What the . . ."

The door was pulled open, and masked men armed with guns started pointing at them and telling them to get down. A couple pulled Bruce out of the limo, throwing him down on the pavement to be restrained.

"A kidnapping!" Airheaded 'Brucie' was on display, almost marveling at the situation they were in. "Haven't had those in a while. Careful now, don't be rough with my assistant."

Marinette stared at her boss in disbelief.

Is he . . . is he serious right now?!

Bruce was barely fighting back. No, he didn't fight back at all. You could've taken them all out and told me to keep quiet! Are we seriously doing this right now?! Are you secretly a masochist? Kwamis, we are going to be late for that meeting!

Marinette shut her mouth as she was also pulled out. The men were about to throw a gagged and bound Bruce into their (totally not suspicious) white van. We can't afford to miss this event, it's important for WE!

First, she disarmed them, kicking and knocking off the guns in their hands. One by one they fought back at her but she broke bones and pulled muscles flawlessly, not letting them land a single hit on her. Finally, she rounded them up in a neat circle with their own ropes and zip ties before dabbing the sweat on her forehead. Some of the men were unconscious, some were just disoriented.

Bruce was gawking at her. "Was that in your resumé?"

Marinette put her hands on her hips. "I didn't think it was relevant for the position. I took martial arts lessons in case . . . you know . . . I needed to kick an akuma's ass back in Paris."

"Oh."

"What were you even thinking, Mr. Wayne?" She glowered. "I know you also had self defense lessons—you could've fought back!"

"But—"

"Don't tell me you did it on purpose!"

Bruce quickly avoided her gaze. "I know how to stall the kidnappers until the vigilantes arrive for rescue."

"So you just sit still and do nothing?" Marinette scolded. "Mr. Wayne, who will sign my paychecks if something happens to you?"

"I'm used to it."

She gave him an unimpressed look. We're going to be late for the meeting anyway. Not to mention I'd have to get him a new suit and send his current one for drycleaning.

"Fine. You pride yourself now as a professional captive?" She smiled humorlessly. "Give me one good reason not to sacrifice you to these kidnappers right now."

"Wait, no—"

Marinette didn't even wait. She ushered her boss into the kidnappers' van and practically skipped towards the astounded masked men to free them. Albeit confused and still disoriented, the kidnappers took Bruce away and Marinette bade them goodbye while waving.

***

Of course, Marinette wasn't going to just leave Bruce like that. She still had her paycheck to worry about after all. After calling an ambulance for the driver, she drove the limousine herself and raced through the streets of Gotham, following Bruce's location through her tablet.

She arrived in a typical warehouse near the docks, as expected from amateur kidnappers. It was getting dark, but she allowed herself to enjoy the sunset for a little while. From her guesses, the rest of the family members would've already been alerted of his situation, so she took her place beside the building's door.

Lo and behold, it was Batman who arrived. Dick-Batman.

"Wait," she said when he passed by her.

. . . And she pretended not to notice him leaping back in shock.

"Huh?" Dick-Batman sputtered out. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous—"

"Don't rescue him yet."

"What? Why?"

Marinette examined her fingernails casually. "He's enjoying playing damsel in distress right now while learning a very important lesson. Give it around five to ten minutes."

"Uhh, okay?"

Dick-Batman just leaned on the wall beside her in an awkward stance, trying to inconspicuously talk through his comms.

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale

@agentxx92

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Note

hi love :) idk if you’d be comfortable with this, and it’s totally okay if not ! i was just thinking about something where the reader is pregnant and jj is all protective over her, comforts her when sad, gets her the things shes craving, stuff like that ! can’t wait for your next post <3

warnings; fluff, talks of pregnancy

pairing; dadtobe!jj x pregnant!fem!reader

notes; i am 1,000 percent comfortable with this, and i secretly always hoped i’d get a request like this cause it’s dad jj what’s not to love. in fact, send in as many as possible before requests close. hope you enjoy this little blurb i put together.

Your bare seven month pregnant belly is prominently showing past the linen sheets. It’s round and plump and everything JJ could’ve dreamt it would’ve been. So much so, he finds you an intense amount more attractive pregnant. Just something about you carrying his child made his mind do cartwheels and numerous tricks, and he’s reminded every time he sees the silky stretch of your stomach. Drove him absolutely senile.

Occasionally he’ll walk by you, taking in the bump forgetting that it’s there— only to fall weak in the knees all over again. ‘Shit, yeah she’s definitely pregnant still.’ Thoughts similar to those encapsulate his mind in a manner of just hopelessly desiring for the moment to come.

Ready to give the little being, all of the excess love he had to spare— the love he never got as a child.

He’s sauntering exhaustedly about the bedroom searching for his work pants, he was anyway. Now, he can’t help but bore gawkingly at his pregnant girlfriend. Hair every which way, dribble of drool leaving from your parted mouth, sun peeking through the blinds accentuating every angle. There he stood in nothing but his boxers still thinking you were as alluring as could be.

He’s snapped from his staring trance, upon tripping not even recalling that he’d begun prancing around again because he’s relishing in sheer elation. And there they were— the Goddamn work pants. And there you were stirring from sleep, a thud as echoing as that could not be unheard. Scrambling from the floor, briefly like it never happened.

‘Shit,’ it stings past his lips, silently cursing himself. His main concern is if he’s caused you and the baby to wake up. If he’s interrupted your oh so sweet slumber, or if somehow his fall would make the baby fall too. You weren’t sure where JJ studied baby logic from, but it’s pushed him into a insanity state of overprotectiveness. Not annoying though— any instinct of a true father that worries for the health or his baby and his lover more than his own.

It’s then that he’s hovering over you, one fist digging desperately into the sultry mattress by your resting head. The other, rubbing soothing circles over your cheek bone at the glint in your eye. He merely wishes to crawl back into bed, and rot there with you for eternity.

“How’d you fall this time?”

Your sleep ridden voice encapsulates his slouching over figure, and his grin is toothy sharing gaze with you. Pleased that you were the one baring his child, along with taking note that he needed to stop being so fucking clumsy.

“Damn work pants, baby.”

“Why aren’t you at work yet, J?”

“Couldn’t find em’.”

JJ has excess time to spare before work, though what you don’t know won’t hurt you. His coddling intentions are tenfold this morning, he subsequently couldn’t compensate for going to work today— not when you look like this, and not when he has his little angel to console every waking minute. You are loss for words at your dopey boyfriend.

JJ lowers himself, towards your lips. His sinewy muscles bulging in intricacy as his weight is held in one arm, large hand now cupping your cheek with everlasting touch. He’s about to butter you up, like a freshly toasted golden brown piece of bread with the creamiest butter to exist.

His lips coat yours slowly, humming into it with remedy. Aiming for it to be sloppy, and as lovingly-long as could be. You kiss back— hands finding the tufts of hair at the back of his neck in sovereignty. It’s powerful, useful, but it’s not enough to get JJ through the day.

“Was thinkin’-“ Kiss.

“About …” Kiss.

“Stayin’ home today …” Kiss.

Every one just as breathless as the last.

“You can’t, JJ.”

Nevertheless, he’s just as careless mouth leaving your lips empty only to travel in a downward spiral. Your collar bone, your chest, and your stomach. Leaving a trail of heavenly kisses, paying extra careful attention to the belly that’s beneath his lips. Three extra pecks are given— representing an ‘I love you’.

“I’ll just pick up an extra shift tomorrow, baby.”

“But we still have to buy-“

“Shh. Leave the worrying to me, okay?”

You grin back at him sleepily and wholeheartedly, rubbing your palm over the tainted skin of your better. A grumble or two settling in, the baby having your appetite unquenchable.

So full of love you can barely take it.

“I want waffles … with those little chocolate chips! F-from the bakery down the road!”

“As many as you want, pretty girl … whatever you want.”

He could be diagnosed with being lovesick, hovering over you again as if you were bound to shatter.

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 11 months

Text

Demon!Eddie part 4

Premise

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

# hype's demon!Eddie fic

Because, see, that is usually what it boils down to. If you do not count the teenagers and college kids who do it out of sheer curiosity or a test of courage, people who summon a demon are usually pretty damn desperate. You don’t bargain with the creatures of hell for shits and giggles. He’s seen all sorts in his time on the job. The people who have lost loved ones and would do anything to speak to them, to see their face one more time. Those who are being eaten alive by some fatal illness and just want to live for a few more years, just long enough to see their kids grow up or make sure their spouse is taken care of. Those are the harder cases, because even after all those years, their anguish still makes something deep inside of him stir, something that he should have killed and buried long ago.

But somehow, he doubts that Richard and Charlotte Harrington are like that.

He’s proven correct only a second later, when Richard takes a deep breath and speaks.

“My company is struggling with the economic crisis. Stocks are failing, our customers are running away, and … and we will lose everything.” One of his hands finally lets go of the old tome to sweep their surroundings in an all-encompassing gesture. The expensive furniture, the shiny floors and finishings, the lamp-lit patio. “I can’t let that happen.”

Of fucking course he can’t. God forbid he lose his bigass mansion and pool, the shiny car that's sure to be parked in the pristine driveway outside.

“The good old money, fame and fortune package,” he nods sagely. “You got it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Really?” asks Charlotte. Her face is weary and she is slowly starting to inch around her armchair. Like an animal considering whether or not to take a bait. “You can do that? Just like that?”

He shrugs, unimpressed, makes a show of inspecting the rings on his fingers for specks of dirt.

“Sure can. I was hoping for something more creative, in all honesty, but who am I to judge your hearts’ deepest desires, eh? I’ll set you up with more riches than you can spend in this lifetime, no problemo. If the compensation is right, that is …”

When he looks up, their eyes are shining with barely concealed greed, just like he knew they would. Humans are so dull, really. Tempt them with a shiny treat and they'll be falling over their own feet in their haste to stumble into their own doom.

"Of course," Richard says. "I'm a businessman, I don't expect to get things for free. What amount would you-"

"I'm not after your money, you silly man." His smile is wide and feral and the hollow where his heart should be thrums with delight at the flash of fear in their eyes. "No, I trade in commodities far more precious than that."

Richard's brow twitches impatiently.

"Well then," he growls. "What do you want?"

Part 5

#steddie #steddie brainrot #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic #my writing #demon!eddie munson #hype's demon!eddie fic

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beefrobeefcal · 8 months

Note

you are dieter’s new personal chef and you’re supposed to be responsible for making sure he eats fairly well just to maintain his current weight while he shoots a movie… but you can’t help how much you like it when you make him something particularly indulgent and he melts at the taste of your food, spewing compliments left and right and a couple of flirts here and there too 🤭

To Nonnie Love Beefro

A LONG TIME COMING, BUT HE'S HERE NONNIE! And I hope he lives up to the hype.

I-just-want-to-thank-you-sweet-baby-for-getting-me-through regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Dieter One Shot

Please welcome Dieter Bravo to Beefro's Bistro!

a 'Dieter Bravo & Cookie' One Shot: Contract Conundrum

Pairing: Dieter Bravox F!Reader

Summary: You're hired to get Dieter ready for a heavyweight role.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 4,274

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), talk of eating, belly praise, self esteem, weight gain, mention of porn, loads of dirty talk, table top sex

Author's Notes: FINALLY! I know.. I KNOW. Between sinus infections depression and house guests, Dieter took the brunt of my willy-nilly gumption. I'm sorry, my babies... I hope he lives up to the hype and you're left sated.

Major thanks to @neverwheremoonchild for beta-ing the hell out of this for me, and to @theywhowriteandknowthings + @rebel-held for being champions!

--------<3----------

Generally, when you are hired for a new job as a private chef, it’s to help your client lose weight or introduce a new lifestyle – like veganism – to their household. But this was new; Dieter Bravo needed to gain weight for a role, and you were the one hired to help him do it.

Before you had even been introduced to him, you were handed an NDA by his manager along with the contract and the job requirements. Outlined in both were the meal plans, expectations, conduct, and specifically the amount he had to gain and time frame in which you had to help his achieve this. You sat across from his manager, Dan, while you read through the documents.

“If you have any questions…”, Dan started, voice pleasant but sounding like he really didn’t want you to ask him anything.

You looked up from the paperwork and nodded politely, then your eyes went back down. You noted under Requirements, it stated that you would be living on site with Dieter, and you would not be compensated for any adult activities you chose to engage in, nor would you receive any additional compensation for anything produced because of them. You had a good idea what that meant and any confusion as to why it was written in your contract evaporated when you remembered who you would be working for.

Dieter Bravo had a reputation based on rumours, and this contract just confirmed them all to be true. You smiled to yourself as you finished reading the documents. You picked up the pen and signed your future for the next year on the last page.

*****

You had a finite time to get Dieter heavier, and he was making it difficult. You were just over a week in, and his picky eating habits were hampering your efforts to do your job. He’d told you he liked fancy food, but everything that you made him had come back to the kitchen barely touched, and he’d refused, like a spoiled child, to tell you what he actually wanted.

According to his assistant, Frank, Dieter took this movie role for a paycheque and sighed the contract before being told he’d have to gain weight for it. His vanity had come into play, but the amount he would have to pay to get out of the contract was ridiculously high. After tantrums and screaming matches with Dan, his manager, Dieter finally agreed to do the role, but he wanted a private chef.

“He swore me to secrecy.”, Frank whispered to you in the kitchen. He took a look at the door then turned back to you. “Don’t tell him you heard this from me, but he’s a classic stoner… grilled cheese, burgers, pizza… y’know?”

You gave Frank a grin and motioned your lips being sealed. “I heard nothing. You were never here. I just happened to take a chance and hit the jackpot.”

That evening, Dieter wandered down to the kitchen to rebuke whatever five-star dining experience you’d conjured up.

“Hello, Mr. Bravo. Dinner will be served in just a few minutes.”, you said, looking up and smiling at him.

“Evening, Cookie....” He gave a half-hearted smile back as he went to the dining room and plunked down at the table. His grey t-shirt and black sweatpants had seen better days, and he fished a joint out of one of his pockets, lighting it up and taking a few drags.

You walked in, pushing a cart with a personal pepperoni pizza and garlic bread sticks on it.

“What in the fuck?!”, Dieter coughed as he blew out the smoke, his eyes wide.

“I’m… sorry, Mr. Bravo?”, you asked, placing the food onto the table.

“What… what’s this?!” , he asked, waving his hands at the pizza. “Cookie, where’s the… th-the fancy shit?!”

“Do you not want pizza, sir?” You were playing dumb and thankfully he was too flabbergasted to notice.

“Of course, I want fucking pizza!”, he yelled angrily. “That’s not the fucking point!”

He stared at you, chest and shoulders heaving with his deep breaths. You stared right back, beginning to question if taking Frank’s advice was a good idea… or even if it was good advice.

He slowly brought the joint back to his mouth and took a puff, holding your stare. You waited for him to throw you out of the house or berate you. Instead, he blew the smoke out of his nose and said in a sinister growl, “This better be the best goddamned pizza I’ve ever had.”

Apparently, it was the best goddamned pizza because he ate the entire thing. You attributed his appetite that night to the amount of weed he had in his system.

*****

This became the new routine: each night, you would make another one of his favourites for dinner and he would behave appallingly, then eat the whole thing. You were amused by his show each night, and he really wasn’t rude or mean to you, he was just loud with a lot of swearing, that was followed by him cleaning his plate.

It didn’t take long for this routine to start to make an impact on him. While he wore loose fitting clothing, after a few months of him indulging in your cooking, the softer jawline under his scruffy beard and the belly that would pop out firm under his shirt on occasion told you that you were doing your job well.

Over the next few weeks, he seemed to become more appreciative of the effort you put into the food you made. Dieter would often come into the kitchen while you were prepping for the meal and watch, commenting on how you were creating art for him to consume and how that was the perfect metaphor for a capitalistic society. While you appreciated his enthusiasm, you could not help but roll your eyes when he went on rants, waving his arms around, yelling about how life is fleeting, and art is forever or some other bullshit. Despite this, it was endearing how passionate he was, even if you had no idea what he was talking about.

As you spent more time with him, however, he started to make little passes at you that you would ignore and take in good humor, playing innocent to his flirting. It wasn’t anything serious or off putting at first; he would comment on how nice your outfit was or asking what you were doing after you were done your shift with an eyebrow wiggle. As of late, though, the harmless flirting and compliments started to become a little more aggressive. He was far more overt with his eyes washing over you and his hands finding their way to touch you, and he would ask you to sit with him while he ate. He eventually started asking you what you would do if he didn’t finish his dinner or if he was good and ate it all up, what reward he would get. It was definitely weird to begin with, but you came to accept it as part of working for eccentric artist who paid you very, very well.

You weren’t one to dip your pen in the company ink and breaking that rule for none other than Dieter Bravo seemed a little too cliché for you.

*****

“What’s on the menu?”, he called out from down the hallway as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Spaghetti and meatballs, Mr. Bravo.”, you responded casually, not looking up from the pasta sauce you stirred on the stove top.

“Gonna be enough?”, he asked with his hands in his pockets, watching you from over his sunglasses with a wide grin.

Looking up, you gave him a questioning look. “Mr. Bravo?”

His face looked over you as his tongue darted out quickly. He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “You heard me, Cookie.”

You hummed with a slight eye roll and nodded, then went back to the pot on the stove. This was obviously not the reaction he wanted because he came around the kitchen counter and stood next to you, his shoulder bumping yours.

“You ready to feed me?”, Dieter stated in a low, almost sultry voice, bringing his hand up to your lower back.

“Dinner will be ready soon, Mr. Bravo.”, you nodded again, trying to ignore his tone and touch, eyes down on the pot of pasta sauce you were stirring.

He huffed a laugh and moved behind you, nudging his nose against your neck, his hands gently holding your shoulder.

You shrugged his hands off you and turned around. You were not in the mood for him being so overt.

“Mr. Bravo – behave!”, you snapped, pointing the mixing spoon from the sauce at him.

Dieter grinned at you, his eyes scanning over your body.

“If I behave, do I get a reward, Cookie?”, he crooned with a flicker in his eyes.

You stared at him, trying to find words to tell him off, but the lookhe gave you had you feeling weak in the knees. You clenched your jaw – and thighs – and turned back to the stove top.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, Mr. Bravo.” Your voice cracked, unintentionally letting him know he’d broken through the first layer.

*****

Prior to Dieter finding you in the kitchen, he’d been upstairs in his room, looking at porn and lazily stroking himself. Despite the debauchery on his laptop, his mind wandered to you downstairs. He thought about you often, enjoying the way you squirmed and flushed when he teased you and how you politely listened to his ramblings about ‘true art’ and the way your eyes would drift over his body, landing on his now fuller middle. He smiled to himself and looked down at his bare stomach. His smile fell a bit, noting that his decadence was really starting to show, and a pang of insecurity washed over him. He’d seen the recent papshots of himself, round belly protruding as he left a restaurant completely stuffed along with the heading ‘Dad-Bod Bravo Almost Unrecognizable!’ along with the numerous comments that he’d come to expect, critiquing his physique to cruelly mocking him. His dick went limp at the thought of it all.

He turned off the grainy video of a 65+ orgy that was on his screen and searched for those papshots again. If he wasn’t going to get off, he was going to punish himself. He clicked on the link to a gossip site and sighed, scrolling and rereading the comments until one made him almost choke on his own spit.

‘DIETER BABY YOU EATIN WELL. LOVE THIS FOR YOU.’

His eyes went wide, reading and rereading the comment, looking for any sign that this was a joke. He clicked on the comment, opening up the thread of responses, all of them being along the same line.

‘i want to feed him while we cockwarm’

‘CANT EVEN AT HOW FUCKIN GOOD HE LOOKS LIKE THIS’

‘Is it wrong to admit that seeing bravo with a big belly has awoken something in me?’

‘HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK HE HAD TO PACK AWAY TO GET HERE? COS HE DIDNT LOOK LIKE THIS A FEW MONTHS AGO. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK BB DIETER.’

He stared at his screen, shocked. The final comment made his dick at once stand at attention:

‘who’s the lucky bitch getting to stuff our husband’s tummy? think they know how fucking blessed they are?’

*****

Dieter sat at the dining room table and watched as you plated the spaghetti for him with a wry grin, giving you a wink when you looked at him. Frank, his assistant, had warned that Dieter was a kinky bastard who liked to set up scenarios in his head then execute them with most being none the wiser until it was too late. When you asked him to elaborate, he just gave a sympathetic shrug and said, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

You were pretty sure you were seeing it now. Fuck.

“Sit with me, Cookie?”, he cooed with his head tilted.

You shook your head. “I need to clean up, Mr. Bravo.”

He pouted. “Please? I’ll be good…”

You sighed and moved to sit down in the chair across from him.

“Closer.” His tone was low. “Please.”

You sighed and pulled out the chair next to him; as soon as you sat down, he reached for the leg of the chair and pulled it right next to him, your legs touching.

The heat that had been building up under your skin all evening felt like it was going to burst as the hand that pulled your chair was now on your thigh, fingers softly touching and gently lifting your skirt higher. His nose nuzzled your ear as he mouthed kisses to your neck.

“So soft, Cookie… maybe you have a treat for me if I’m a good boy… if I fit every fucking bit of this in my gut, you’ll let me eat you raw…”

Every nerve ending in your body screamed at once, and the goosebumps that erupted made your skin feel electric under his lips. Despite this, you still tried to move away from him, not wanting to cross that line. You stood up and stood with your chair between you and him.

He didn’t stop you. And when you looked back at him, he didn’t look disappointed - he looked… encouraged?!?

“Cookie… nothing is sexier than consent.”, he growled with a lupine grin, picking up his fork. “But I don’t think you really wanna stop… just want a different position, huh baby?”

He twirled the fork in his pasta and stabbed the meatball, then shoved the whole forkful into his mouth. With wide eyes, you watched him; your mouth went dry as you tried to swallow, and your panties got wet as you crushed your thighs together.

As a chef, one of the great joys was seeing people enjoy your work, but this was on a wholly different level. Dieter was commanding you with just his intense gaze to watch him devour the meal you prepared him, and you couldn’t look away. You were now fully engaged in his scenario, yet you weren’t tethered or being held in place – it was just the magnetic pull of him eating your food that kept you in place. Bite after bite, he held eye contact and the only sounds he made were the occasional hum of appreciation and his quiet chewing.

He finished his plate and held it up towards you, a wry smile and a dark gaze on his face.

“More, please, Cookie.”

You nodded and stepped towards him, moving the chair between you out of the way. You took the plate from him, and his hand ghosted around your wrist, testing the waters with you again, but you didn’t pull away this time. Your eyes locked onto his and he gave you a ridiculously innocent and sweet smile before his hand slid up your skirt and he kneaded your ass cheek.

“Mr. Br-Bravo!”, you breathed out.

He was being so gentle, so soft; it was breaking your resolve.

“Oh Cookie… fuck…”, he groaned as he placed wet, hot open mouth kisses on your neck and jaw. “Dieter, baby… call me, Dieter.”

He moved the hand that was under your skirt to your wrist again and he pulled you down, placing your hand to his stomach.

“Feel that, Cookie?” His voice was soft, almost like he was praising you. “Making me fat...”

All you could do was nod, feeling the heat blooming in your cunt. You knew any sounds you tried to make would only come out as a whimper or a whine. You palmed his chubby middle and sucked in a breath, closing your eyes.

“Yeah, baby... I know what you want, I see you watching me...”, he grinned, his voice keeping that low register. Your eyes shot open, and you tried to pull your hand away, but he held it firm. “No shame in it, Cookie... everyone should do what they’re good at...”

He suddenly pulled you down further by the wrist into a surprisingly gentle kiss. He pulled back and looked at you.

“I wanna eat you raw... get on the table.”

You stared down at him, knowing the moment you got on the table, legs open for him, there would be no going back.

You shook your head, and his raised eyebrow in response threatened the tantrum he was willing to throw, that he’d become so famous for when he didn’t get his way. You weren't going to let him win this... at least not yet.

The voice that came out of your mouth even surprised you. “You need to finish your dinner. No dessert until then.”

A giant grin that ripped across his face. “Kinky Cookie... bad girl... I like it.”

*****

By the time every bite of spaghetti and meatballs were safely tucked away in Dieter’s overstuffed belly, he’d removed his shirt and pants, only sitting in his boxer shorts and his green housecoat. Every hiccough made his tummy condense and he would wince. He held it gently and let out a whine that turned into a burp.

“Good work, Mr. Bravo.”, you cooed, kneeling beside him as you gently cupped and palmed his belly, feeling the light layer of fat stretched thin over the immense amount of food jammed in it. “Did so well for me.”

He leaned back, eyes glazed and mouth open, panting. He gazed down at you and a small smile tugged at the left side of his mouth.

“Get on... get on the fucking table.”, he grunted as he sat up.

You thought about defying him, making him work harder for you, but before you could voice it, he, with great effort, pulled himself up and stood to his full height above you. His hand cupped your jaw and pulled, telling you to stand up, and as you did, he turned you so your back faced the table.

“I cleaned my plate, Cookie.”, his tone was gentle yet dark and he never broke eye contact with you. “I deserve a treat, right?... my dessert... right?”

You realized this situation was not in any way shape or form in your hands. Dieter, despite him wanting you to egg him on, encourage him to eat, was seizing back control, taking what he wanted, what he felt he deserved. You nodded dumbly at him, eyes wide as your breathing shuttered.

He nodded back, like he would have if he were scolding a child.

“So, you’re gonna get on the table, right, Cookie?”

He backed you against it, his belly being the last bit of force to shove you backwards. Once you were on the table, he gave you a dark, lupine grin as he grabbed your hips and shoved you further up and leaned down between your legs. He shoved your shirt up and pressed wet, sloppy kisses on your exposed middle, humming in delight. His hands moved to your thighs and pushed your skirt up to the waist, then he pulled your underwear down and moving to get them off you before he pulled them to his nose, took a deep breath, and tossed them across the dining room.

His eyes zeroed in on your core as he dipped his index and middle finger int your folds, smiling.

“So, fucking wet, Cookie... you get off on it, don’t you... this why you’re a chef, baby?... making people fat and round on your food gets you worked up?”

You whined and writhed on the table in response, and he let out a low chuckle, circling his middle finger around your throbbing clit.

“Come on, Cookie... tell me how much you like it... tell me what goes through that fucking beautiful head of yours when you see me get bigger... fill out... pant and moan as I try to swallow down every bite you put in front of me...”

He replaced his middle finger with his thumb and pumped two fingers into your cunt, beginning an agonizingly slow pace. You whined, hearing the sloppy wet noises he was pulling out of your sopping core.

“You like that, huh?... stuffing me stupid, then leaving me each night with a raging boner... leaving me to fuck my hand or anything else I can fit my dick in... but it’s getting harder, Cookie... this gut is getting in the way of everything...”

He watched you as your legs shook. He could feel your walls flutter, and he smiled, knowing he had you right where he wanted.

“Making it so hard... but you want that, don’t you?... want me to need you... want you to feed me... want you to fuck me...”

He began to pump harder, and you cried out arching your back. He was working up a sweat, between working you over and his belly trying to digest the ridiculous amount of food he had in it. Dieter pulled his fingers from your core and sat down in the chair, gripped your thighs and dove in. He sucked your clit hard, and you screeched out, hands going into his messy curls. He shoved his tongue into your weeping, twitching hole and his nose pressed your clit perfectly, sending you screaming into your orgasm, and he happily lapped at your spend.

He worked you over as you started to come down, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved back to your swollen and sensitive nub, and he pushed the two fingers back into you repeatedly. He wasn’t letting you go now that he had you, and he hummed in response to every whine, cry, and moan that left your mouth.

“Mr... Mr. Bravo...Dieter!... Please... I-I can’t!...”, you cried out, your body writhing and shaking.

He shook his head vigorously between your legs, grunting ‘uh-uh’ back to you and continuing his assault on your quivering cunt.

The noise his work pulled out of you as you came again was deep and animalistic, and he gave your clit one last, hard suck before he pulled back and stood up. In one swift movement, he pulled his boxer shorts down and pumped his cock, then pushed it into you, letting out a long, low moan as he did. He gripped your hips, and you wrapped your legs around him as best you could.

Goddamnit, he was big. Your eyes rolled into the back of yoiur head as he seated himself in you deep.

“Move ... please move, Dieter... fuck... so big... have to move... need you to... ”, you whined, tilting your hips to encourage him.

He started to set his pace, each pump pushing a squeak or moan out of you.

“Jesus titty fucking Christ... yeah, Cookie... soft as shit pussy sucking me right in... fuck you for holding out on me... fuck you, Cookie, for carrying around this tight little pussy and not telling me...”

The sound of your wet cunt being impaled repeatedly by Dieter’s thick cock was obscene, but the filth coming from his mouth was even more so.

“Lucky little bitch… getting to stuff me… feed me… make me fat…”, he grunted through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good… you like being fucked by a fat guy, Cookie?... you did this, baby… you did this to me… the fucking envy of every god damned kinky fuck out there… yeah, you are a fucking lucky bitch…”

“Fuck you, Dieter… fuck you and your big fucking cock… and your fucking ap-appetite!... you eat so good, too… fuck… oh fuck…yes… just like that… yes… uhhhgod… yes, Dieter… keep going…”

Your tight walls fluttered and clenched on his cock, and he groaned and grunted.

“Yeah , so close, baby… oh fuck… come on my dick, Cookie… be a good little bitch and fucking come on my dick… wanna feel you cream on me… then I’m gonna – Fuck!... then I’m gonna fill this pussy… it’s fucking mine… come on… lemme have it… lemme have it, Cookie baby…”

The white-hot bolt of energy traveled down your spine and exploded in your core, sending you screaming and arching your back off the table. Dieter held you firm as he pounded you through your orgasm.

“That’s fucking right!... yeah, baby… yeah… fuck… fuck fuck fuck fuck… Cookie… gonna come in you-your pussy… you’re mine… you’re fucking mine… yeah… yeah… yeah!”

With a final grunt, his hips pushed hard into you as he came hard. His hand moved from your hip and came down beside your face as he panted, his forehead resting on your chin.

Both of you were quiet, minus the sounds of your heavy breathing filling the air.

“Fuck you and your fucking pussy… god damnit, Cookie…”, he breathed, and you smiled.

“Fuck you and your monster cock, Bravo.”, you huffed back with a laugh.

Silence filled the room again until Dieter slipped his softening cock from you, and you let out a small whine. He smiled and chuckled.

“Don’t leave… come upstairs.”, he said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your collar bone.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with his big, pleadling brown ones looking up at you.

“Are you a post-coital snuggler, Mr. Bravo?”, you asked teasingly, smiling.

“Yeah… yeah, I am…” He looked down and grinned bashfully, nodding.

He brought his gaze back up at you, a soft and warm look on his face. He leaned in close, lips almost touching as his bely pressed you into the table.

“Yeah… plus I wanna see your tits and be comfortable in bed.”

--------<3---------

thank you @toxicanonymity for the moodboard!

TAG LIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #you ask beefro answers #you ask beefro answers #beefro's bistro #chubby!dieter bravo #chubby dieter #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x female reader #weight gain fiction #beefro is thankful #🥩#👌🥩💜

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lilac-5ky · 10 months

Text

Roommates from Hell, pt.7 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 7: Stockholm Syndrome

A/N: Sorry for disappearing, y'all! Hope this lengthy chapter compensates for my absence.

You were early.

You knew that, not because you’d been checking the time every two stops—doubting your being on the correct railway line even as the voice in the speakers called out Inokashira Park—but because it was still bright when you got off the train platform.

Normally, you were good with those things—time. Having juggled both school and multiple shifts across Tokyo at some point in your life meant you knew exactly how long it took to get from one district to the other, and under no circumstances did Shibuya to Kichijoji amount to three hours worth of travel time. You could’ve left home half an hour earlier and made it in time, but all sense of normality died the moment you agreed to go out with Toji.

It was 3:37 p.m., and you were indeed early. Two hours and twenty-three minutes early.

You’d gone out with him hundreds of times. As friends, as family—as people who dealt their meals and loneliness evenly, yet never as anything beyond that. You didn’t know what a date entailed—or rather, you pretended not to, because the possibilities made your head spin.

This was just an ordinary hangout, and that was why you’d opted for the unimpressive combination of your overworn jeans and cardigan, in spite of casting every article of clothing out of your closet and onto the floor.

The yellow ribbon in your hair—that was hope.

You were meeting at the park’s east entrance, which coincided with the railway’s west exit. The only thing you’d agreed upon was the time and place. Everything else was entirely up to him.

The tracks ended where the grass blades began, out-of-bloom hydrangeas paving the path toward Inokashira Park’s infamous pond. In the winter, the park looked like a shadow of its former self. Desolate and bleak, as opposed to the final spring you visited with your father.

The fragrance of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms he’d help you reach atop his shoulders lingered ever so vividly in the air, along with the essence of humidity that clung to your skin after every ride on those enormous swan boats. But with the trees stripped bare and the waters stilled by the cold, your memories had also lost their vibrancy.

You felt no joy reminiscing about the past. It was more like an old wound you scratched open to test the pain, except the blood was all dried up. You’d mourned your father before he’d even passed and before your sister finalized the news a week ago. This was just killing time.

You had two hours to waste and were already considering phoning Toji to reschedule. He didn’t have much to do during the day. If he wasn’t at the diner, then he typically loitered around one gambling den or another. Unless he was caught up in one of those shady businesses that earned him entire briefcases full of cash. To think the day would come when you’d be dating a hitman—

—only you weren’t dating. Because this wasn’t a date.

Your plans were put on hold as an elderly woman shoved about a dozen shopping bags inside the public phone booth you’d been eyeing, and you decided not to wait around for it to be freed.

Two hours isn’t all that horrible.

A class of children returning from a field trip to the park’s aquarium passed you by, some of the kids clutching onto different types of marine life plush toys. You walked away from the procession. You weren’t keen on showing jealousy over the little girl with the cute turtle-shaped backpack, and thus you detoured to a quieter path away from all the jeers and cheers. You checked the time again. One hour and fifty-five minutes left. God.

The park’s visitors dwindled the further you strayed from the main attractions, until it was just you and a man who had his back turned all the while he stared off into the unknown. A man whose broad shoulders and discreet slouch seemed more familiar the longer you studied him, and when his jade eyes fell on yours, you reached an epiphany. This was a date.

“You’re early.” You gasped softly, your lips expelling a white cloud of heat.

His gaze hardened below his arched eyebrows—a mix of unfeigned surprise and borderline annoyance as he processed you from head to toe.

You regretted not going the extra mile. Toji wasn’t dressed to the nines either, but his choppy strands were somewhat combed, and the forest green of his sweater brought out his eyes. Even his usual sweatpants were replaced by a fitting pair of black jeans, and at that point, your palms began to sweat because Toji was an objectively good-looking man, and when he took care of himself, he was a real head-turner, while you were just… you.

“You’re the one who’s late.” He shifted the blame without second thought, tempting you to dig your beeper out of your pocket to prove your innocence, but you spared him the embarrassment. After all, he made no comments about your blushing cheeks or shuffling feet either.

One minute and countless beats of awkward silence later, Toji tugged himself from the wooden spikes that ringed the pond’s perimeter and moved closer, his attention instantly drawn to your ribbon’s loose ends.

“Your hair—”

“Looks weird?” You cut him off.

He shook off his scowl, the rough pads of his fingers making light contact with your skin as he flipped the string over your shoulder. “Nah. Just…” and it was no exaggeration to say you were hanging on his lips up until he grabbed you by the hand and dragged you forward—his calling you cute an uncertain figment of your imagination.

Trapped in a never-ending daze of billboard signs and city lights that faded past the passenger’s window, you miserably failed to make out your whereabouts. It’d been a while since you left Tokyo behind, and your last clue was your entering National Route 127 about an hour ago. You were well into Chiba prefecture—home to Japan’s biggest fishing industry, Disney-themed parks, and, of course, peanuts.

As for where in Chiba exactly, your best bet was connecting the passing exit signs in the hope of them helping paint the bigger picture. Kisarazu to Kimitsu. Kimitsu to Futtsu. Futtsu to Kyonan.

Since that final sign that read “15 kilometers to Minamiboso,” you’d gone off the map, and the closer you came to approaching the sparsely planted minka houses on the mountain side of the highway, the further your destination seemed. You didn’t expect this to be a kidnap in the literal sense, but while Toji hadn’t taken your ability to speak or look away, he still refused to let you in on his plans.

He drove quietly, his vision tunneling to the open road while his hand occasionally ironed out the knots of muscle around his neck. His mouth opened solely for his yawns, whose sheer number and frequency would’ve been concerning if Toji wasn’t the one behind the wheel. You trusted he wouldn’t kill you both off. He wasn’t the double-suicide type.

After your seventh unsuccessful attempt at prying out information, you brought out the big guns.

“What’s this?” Toji glanced at the 1000-yen bill you discreetly placed on his lap, his lips twitching into a slight smile. “Little low for ransom, don’tcha think?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just tell me where we’re going and why it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” He pocketed the bill. “Wouldn’t be a kidnap if I told ya, would it?”

You leaned against the window, bandages soaking up moisture from where you mindlessly drew figures in the fog. You’d think he’d be less frustrating to deal with now that he’d gotten what he wanted, but he’d instead turned shrewder. He didn’t even let you contact your sister or drop off Kenzo’s waffle cones. The two were left alone at your empty apartment, probably thinking you’d migrated to the North Pole for ice, when in reality you were off playing budget Thelma and Louise.

Maybe he really was trying to kill you—speed toward the next cliff and throw you both into the depths of Tokyo Bay, where you’d spent a comfortable eternity sleeping side by side with the fish.

You were spelling the words Save Me when Toji spoke again, this time on his own accord.

“Someplace we can continue where we left off.” You could hear the smirk rolling off his tongue.

Someplace we can continue where we left off, you mentally repeated. Someplace we can continue where we left off. Someplace we can—oh.

You quickly smudged your cry for help with your shoulder and fell back on your seat, cheeks as red as beets. If he wanted to take things to a love hotel, he should’ve just said so. It wouldn’t have taken much to persuade you to hit one in Roppongi. No need to waste all this gas and worry everyone sick.

Come to think of it, the phone hadn’t rung once since the beginning of your little country escapade—not from a call, and not from a text either. You were positive he hadn’t turned your phone off when he confiscated it, and his was still on him.

That crafty witch. Her lack of concern just about confirmed your suspicions. Your sister wasn’t searching for you because everything was moving according to plan.

“Can I at least make a call?” You batted your eyelashes and smiled at him with your eyes, watching his wariness dissolve instantaneously as his glance shifted to a stare. Men.

“A call, huh?” Relying on his inhumane reflexes, Toji lowered a hand from the wheel to your knee, rubbing his way higher up your thigh.

The part of you that wasn’t used to letting him touch you so freely almost flinched, but ignoring it was starting to become easier. You enjoyed the way his palm cupped your flesh. You liked how supple your skin seemed between his fingers, and you loved how firm his grasp felt—bold and reassuring. It took your mind off your question and his attention off the road as a honk from a passing truck forced you to recoil away from each other.

The unprompted filth that poured between the two rolled-down windows colored both your ears. He was the one in the wrong here. It was his fault that the car zigzagged into the fast lane, and while he wasn’t going to let it spiral out of control, the other driver didn’t necessarily know that.

Once he was done spitting nails, he turned back to you, impatience burning in his eyes to the point where you wouldn’t be surprised if he cut your destination short and pulled over to the nearest rest area for a breather.

“Can’t focus when ya gimme that look.” Toji huffed.

“What look?”

“Like you’re begging me to fuck you on the highway.” He answered with the same ease with which one would talk about the weather.

“Toji!” A red deeper than the one on your ears spread to your face.

He licked his lips together and tipped closer to your seat, audaciously asking, “What?”

You didn’t have a reason good enough to push him away anymore—at least not one that related to how you felt about him. Hiding behind your finger was useless when all your cards were laid out on the table. He counted on you staying still for his lips to brush over yours—a mere tingle of electricity before you remembered you were in a moving vehicle and swatted his face away.

“Eyes on the road.” You whipped out a smile, lest he misunderstand, but it was too late. Toji was already looking at you as if you’d committed an unimaginable sin; a frown riveted to his face even as his focus resumed on the highway.

“Just lost your phone rights.”

“Seriously? Cause I’m watching out for our safety?”

“You heard me.” He grumbled. “Now shut it.”

“Well, forgive me for not being up for a second near-death experience less than 24 hours after the first one.” You said as you fixed your shirt over your knees and coiled closer to the window.

His knuckles grew white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, a deep exhale flaring his nostrils. Be it out of guilt or regret, he didn’t talk back, but you weren’t willing to call a truce just yet.

“You know, none of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t run off on your own last night. Or if you’d asked me whether I wanted to be stuck in a vehicle with your grumpy ass for hours. Putting up with you at home is enough as it is.”

The blinker flashed as he turned left to the next exit, whose name you didn’t catch until a second sign at the intersection welcomed you to Tomiyama. You weren’t even sure if that was your actual destination or if he pulled off the highway on a whim, and you knew next to nothing about the area other than hearing it mentioned in some politician’s speech about recreation.

The car slowed down behind a navy blue sedan, with Toji drumming his fingers against the wheel while waiting for the lights to turn green. You took the chance to look outside, unable to figure out a damn thing in the dark. There were trees on both sides of the road, but you couldn’t tell what kind of trees. There were more cars parked by the sidewalk, but you couldn’t determine their color, let alone their brand. There was a large body of water up ahead, but you could only make out the faint sway of the riptide under the moonlight, a light breeze teasing the pungent scent of the sea.

“Didn’t seem you were putting up with me last night.” Toji interrupted. “Or when ya sucked my face in the middle of the street.”

“Hey!”

“Not that I hated either.”

He didn’t sound half as mad as he seemed, and for a brief moment, you wondered what you’d started this for. You always gnawed at each other like beasts trapped in a cage, each getting a kick out of pushing the other’s buttons into madness, yet you rarely fought for a reason. It was more so out of habit than spite, because that’s what you did best, and it almost felt intimate—affectionate in a way others could never comprehend.

“Go on.” Toji prompted, definitely amused. “That can’t be all. What else ya got?”

“You ate my ice cream!” You almost laughed at your own absurd statement, biting down the chuckle Toji didn’t bother withholding. “You ate it in front of my face and didn’t offer me a single bite!”

“Poor baby can’t use her hands?” He cooed, curling a finger near your cheek.

You dramatically waved your reasons for being incapacitated. “Can’t even use them. Plus, they itch like hell.”

“Pft, don’t pin that on me.” He scorned. “Curse barely touched you, and you spent the whole night cryin’ like a baby.”

An exasperated sigh puffed in your lungs. “I can’t believe you drew a mustache on my face. You knew I was awake, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” He asked with a knowing smile. “So what? Think I’d pussy outta kissing that cute little face just ‘cause of two extra lines?

“Still got ‘em, by the way.”

You manically scrubbed your lips with the back of your bandaged fist before coming to terms with the spotless reflection in his rearview mirror.

“There’s a special place in hell for people like you.”

The car was again put into motion as Toji switched gears and accelerated—much to your delight—toward the seashore, with no intention of stopping even as the village houses got replaced by palm trees dug in the sand; your final accusation being, “What kind of psychopath drives without music?”

“This is just noise.”

His snide remark had you dropping the stack of cassette tapes back at the discount stand and rushing to his aid.

The store-provided headphones appeared comically small compressing his skull, with the metallic wire bent into a taut arc that promised to snap any minute now. Their wearer seemed displeased, which, honestly, he always did, but this time you could hardly blame him. He was out of his element, and if it weren’t for that sliver of curiosity ushering him into the record store by the station, then he wouldn’t be standing there like an absolute idiot, polluting his ears with… pirate metal?

You managed to withstand about ten seconds of incoherent German slurs and Arrrgh’s before you hastily ejected the tape and shoved it back in its case. An entire music library at your disposal, and he’d possibly come across the single questionable track. Even a sniffer dog would envy his ability to nose anomalies out.

“Must be ‘cause you aren’t used to it.” You glanced around the shelves for a gap. “For all we know, this could be a masterpiece.”

“Yeah, right.” Toji kicked at the rolling step stool. Your heel caught it before it had the chance to crash into the vinyl stand, which led to him scoffing. Again.

He was the one who insisted on this date yet acted the exact opposite of his intentions. All that gloating about his past conquests was plain rubbish. He’d planned nothing for your date—your first date—and was disagreeable toward your every suggestion. The new crepe stall was too flashy for his tastes. The regular sukiyaki place was suddenly too expensive. The attractions at the park were tourist traps. You’d purposely led him down the thrift shop packed-alleyway just so he wouldn’t have a reason to complain, but he exceeded your expectations.

If he was having such a bad time, then why bother asking you out in the first place?

You returned to your corner, rummaging through the rows for something even Toji could potentially appreciate, when it hit you: you had no idea what kind of music he liked. Two years of acquaintance, and you’d never discussed preferences.

“Hey, Mr. Nitpicker.” Your nails clicked against the plastic to draw his attention. “What’s your favorite song?”

He gawked at you as if he’d been presented with a complex quantum physics equation, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head from one side to the other like a metronome.

“It’s… that one.” You expected him to point at either a cassette or a vinyl, but his hands remained sheathed in his pockets.

“What one?”

“The one that goes like…” You again expected him to hum to the rhythm of the supposed song, but he didn’t. “Ya know, that one.”

Your eyes darted between the tapes in your grasp and the insistence in his expression. He didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. It was when he lied that he acted most certain.

The only argument working in his favor was the inconceivable notion that a person in the growing age of media and technology could do without a song blasting from their car speakers or one they recorded with all the ambient sounds of a cafe tainting the chorus—because you didn’t know how music was treated in the Zen’in household; how whatever didn’t feature a koto or a shamisen was outright rejected; how it was considered a women’s sport—an activity slightly more refined than idle gossip in the shadows of the shoji doors.

“That’s not very helpful.” You sighed.

“Whatever.” He frowned, reclining against the one wall that was equipped with neither shelves nor framed records.

The conversation was over, and you resumed your hunt for affordable hidden gems in the 80s section. They used the word vintage for songs you’d grown up with, which everyone knew was a code word for old. Your twentieth birthday was months away, and you were already deemed old—correction: vintage. In no time, you’d join the club of people who called those below their age kids and constantly reminisced about the golden days of their youth.

“What’s yours?” Toji caught you off guard with how he’d both peeled off the wall and hunched over you without you taking notice.

You hadn’t even opened your mouth, yet you already felt yourself stuttering. He was intimidating—not in a piss your pants kind of way, but in a way that tinkered with the distribution of fluids in your body. You didn’t want to answer his question. You’d rather he bent a little lower and kissed you, because sharing your second kiss at a record store sounded exhilarating.

But sharing that tidbit of information wasn’t.

Flustered, you flipped through the cassettes sorted by the letter ‘A’ to find Anri’s Timely!! mixed between the ‘C’s. You were supposed to ask for permission before trying out the non-samples, but the store clerk clearly didn’t mind, or else he would have stopped you four tapes ago.

You searched for the appropriate track and pressed play once the headphones were back on Toji’s head. He kept a serious face all the while Anri begged for her loneliness to stop, the upbeat instrumental contrasting—without concealing—the sobriety of the lyrics. You heard every word loud and clear, mentally repeating them down to the third chorus, where you got lost in the sentiment.

Love is like a small storm. Both friends and lovers get swept up by it.

The song went on about the end of a relationship, while yours hadn’t even begun. You were one step ahead of being friends, yet a lot more steps behind being lovers. You didn’t want to jinx the outcome of your date but couldn’t stop musing over the pain of a breakup. You’d only experienced loneliness in the form of missing—never in the form of losing. If you let yourself be swept up by this emotion, would you wind up hurting more than you did before he stepped into your life?

The music came to an end of its own, and Toji pulled the headphones from his ears, declaring with a victorious grin that this was his favorite song.

“You can’t be serious.” You snatched the Walkman from his hands. “That’s my favorite song!”

“And?” He tapped his foot against the tiled floor. “What’s yours can’t be mine?”

“We aren’t married.” You wished you could press rewind and write over your own words, replacing them with something far less embarrassing.

“Like I’d ever marry someone this bossy.”

You groaned as you traded the tape for one by Takeuchi Mariya. “Fine. When the time comes, you’re free to marry someone without any backbone, but now, we are finding you a song.”

He groaned back while you repeated the same process of skipping to a specific song, gauging his reaction, and then moving forward while he pig-headedly stood by his first choice. You tried more artists—Matsubara Miki, Akimoto Kaoru, Sugiyama Kiyotaka. You thought Hamada Kingo’s midnight cruisin’ would be it, but it wasn’t. The single thread your patience dangled from finally snapped, resulting in your rising to your toes and forcibly holding the headphones down against his head.

“You aren’t allowed to not like this one!”

You formed the words slow enough for him to read your lips over the climax of first chorus, the song feeling nothing sort but an unconventional confession with how you viciously stared into each others eyes.

Every time I wish, to monopolize your love/Every time I wish, that would you be mine/I want all of you.

There was a change in his expression, a flicker or a speck of something that convinced you to step back before the song reached its conclusion. You called a draw in your staredown, both turning to a different direction, and you weren’t sure if Toji was remotely capable of feeling shame, but his cheeks were tinted a subtle pink when your eyes next met.

“Okay.” He conceded. “Keep your stupid song. I like this one better.”

You walked around the shops hand in hand. It was for precaution, so you wouldn’t get caught between the hordes of starving office workers invading the local Konbini in search of nutrients—his words, not yours. Toji didn’t know lunch breaks were a common breadwinner’s luxury, considering most of these people overworked themselves until it was time to go, but you didn’t mention either. His hand felt too warm to let go, and whenever he spoke, heat radiated from his lips.

You wished he’d kiss you.

He’d missed his chance at the record store, but plenty of other opportunities had since turned up: the giant Christmas tree that sprouted in front of Kitaguchi station; at the back row of some B-rated horror movie screening; behind the arcades on Motomachi Street. Even right where you stood, he could trick you into thinking there was a rogue eyelash he meant to pinch from your cheek, only for his lips to land on yours instead.

It was a given that it would happen. It happened in every single Hollywood rom-com, without exception. You just didn’t know when or where.

The cassette tapes rattled like wind chimes in the paper bag you carelessly swung around. You didn’t intend to charge him with a bunch of impulse purchases, but he told you not to sweat it because you’d be buying lunch. It fascinated you how the richest and poorest people you knew met in Toji’s face. He could afford things beyond imagination, yet he never seemed able to afford the essentials. It was easy to write him off as cheap, but you didn’t want to be in love with someone cheap.

You wondered whether he’d ask you to be his girlfriend or if you already were.

You suffered through a much harsher rejection as you returned to the very same crepe stall that Toji previously dismissed with a simple “no,” this time demanding you treat him to an actual meal. You were more upset about not having crepes than you were about bleeding cash on him.

The sun retired prior to your food quest’s conclusion, parting from the sky in a murky shade of blue. It was getting too cold to be outside, and hiding your shivering came at a price. You clung to his arm as if he were a portable heater, but when he asked if you felt cold, you stupidly claimed to be fine. Really stupid.

Soon, the streets were emptied. Every sensible passerby holed up in the cozy izakayas that lined each side of the pavement. You were the last two sociopaths testing their courage at a UFO catcher outside a greasy Thai restaurant. The aroma of drunken noodles stirred something in your stomach that made you forget all about the crepes, and the Yoshi plushie Toji pledged himself to win on your behalf. You shouldn’t have told him he was your favorite. You’d be stuck here until the morning light.

“Didn’t you swear off gambling for the remainder of this year? Thought you were saving your luck for 1995.” You tried to dissuade him, eyes meeting through the hazy glass. He’d tasked you with inspecting the left side of the machine while he took stock of the prizes on the right. “How’s this?” You pointed at a Yoshi near the corner of the prize pit.

“That’s hardly gambling.” Toji slapped the glass with both his hands and forehead, reviewing your choice. “Nah, won’t do. ‘Tis too far from the center. Switch with me.”

You traded sides, with Toji focusing on the Yoshis while you focused on him. He seemed to know what he was doing, but he wasn’t fooling you. He’d lose, pin it on either the rigged machine or the maintenance guy, and then he’d have you drag the Thai manager out.

On second thought, maybe if he caused a big enough scene, you’d be compensated with a plate of warm food.

A smile of utter triumph emerged across his lips once he got his sights on a target. You still had your doubts, especially with how tightly the machine was packed, but refrained from voicing them. He wouldn’t listen anyway.

“Got any coins?”

You handed him your wallet, and his eyes almost widened as he shook it around like a maraca. “You work a side-gig at the mint or something? What’s with all these coins?”

“Many drops make an ocean.” You moved to the side for a better view. “Spend ‘em all, and you’ll be buying your own lunch.”

He pulled out a mere 100-yen coin and dropped your wallet on top of the machine. “Don’t need more.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve heard those words before?” Your sneer wasn’t enough to shatter his confidence.

“Ya say that cause you weren’t there in ‘87.”

“Why—what happened in ‘87? And where exactly is there?”

“Won three of these with a single draw.” Toji not-so-subtly bragged, at last taking hold of the joystick.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Anyone can win if they bribe a kid to loosen the thing for them.

“Better be if ya want me winning that damn turtle of yours.”

“Yoshi is a dinosaur…” Unsurprisingly, that earned you a glare.

You gestured a zipper over your mouth and gave him an encouraging thumbs-up as he slotted the coin in. The 15-second countdown began, with Toji maneuvering the claw over the plushie by the 10-second mark and Yoshi flying over the hole five seconds later. You watched with bated breath up until the claw unlatched from Yoshi’s nose and propelled him down the machine’s entrails, a series of metallic thuds promising Toji’s irrefutable success.

“You won?” Your gasp turned into a genuine shriek of excitement. “Holy shit, you actually won! Shit, I mean—wow, you’re good at this!”

He snorted, kneeling to retrieve the prize. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, I am.” You admitted. “Never seen you win before.”

“Don’t be. It’s annoying.” He pretended to bash your skull with the plushie, only to softly dab it at your wincing, hands raised in defense. Cute. “Have your big-head. He looks like you.”

A tight-lipped smile curved itself in place of his lips, the rest of his features also softening while he took in yours. Looking like a green dinosaur had its perks. You didn’t feel as cold anymore. All you felt was the tenderness with which he cupped your cheek like the most precious treasure—and he did treasure you. First with his eyes, and then with his fingers, though he treasured you the most when he was kissing you on your open mouth, your impatience dissolving into a wish come true.

“In my next life, I’ll buy myself a house here.”

Your toes sank deeper into the sand, struggling to remain hidden as the sea foam tickled away their concealment. Shards of the moon sparkled like stardust in the ocean, every ripple mirroring another star fallen from the night sky. If magic existed in this world, this was proof of it.

In the end, you were glad Toji brought you out there. Tokyo was smothered by water to the point where you feared it might swallow you whole, but things were different in the countryside. No skyscrapers blocked your view of the quaint horizon. No traffic sounds filtered the sound of the waves crashing to the shore. No exhaust fumes tainted the salty air that filled your lungs.

Even for a moment, you broke free from the shackles of everyday life and stepped into a picturesque world straight from a postcard. Your life could end then and there, and you’d jump to the next one without any regrets.

“What keeps you from doin’ that in this life?” Toji asked, seated a little further from where you stood. You didn’t understand why he’d chosen the beach when he wouldn’t dare dip his feet in the water, let alone feel the crunch of sand. His slippers would get dirty, one way or another.

“Money, for starters. Work, too. Life, maybe.” You mused.

“Bullshit. You can make money anywhere.” He retorted. “And anyone can do your job. Not like serving brick patties takes special skill.”

“Think I can do your job, then?”

“No fucking way.” You chuckled at his honesty. “You’d stab your leg right in front of your fucking target.”

“Right?” You glanced down at your fingers. He’d peeled off the bandages so you wouldn’t get them soggy, but you didn’t need them anymore. Your cuts would heal on their own as long as you didn’t get salt in them. “Then, you think we should only do what we are meant to do?”

“I think we should do whatever the fuck we want.”

“That’s easy to say…”

“Even easier to do. Now get your ass over here.”

You turned around, beaming with a smile he’d find irritating a minute later. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Then suit yourself.”

His apathy lasted until he sprung from his seat and scurried over to you, his arms seizing your waist before you could run away. Your back was pulled flush against his chest, with your ribs silently crying over the ridiculous strength of his biceps. You’d been subjected to more squeezing this weekend than your body could handle.

“That’s how ya do it.” Toji breathed in your hair, his chin comfortably propped on the crook of your shoulder. You were immobilized, but your heart still raced for escape, your cheeks shimmering a rosy pink.

“Actually, you wanted me to come to you, which means you just proved yourself wrong. Meanwhile, I wanted you to come here, which means I—ugh, put me down!”

Water splashed everywhere as Toji hoisted you high above the ground and carried you across the sand plains, your feet pedaling an invisible wheel until you were dropped off like a sack of potatoes. Non-organic at that. Organics received greater care and respect.

“Happy now?”

Choking on a miniature sandstorm, you fought to get your tangled hair off your mouth, inevitably tasting some of the very coarse grains you coughed out.

“How can I be happy when I’ll be shitting sand for days to come?”

“You’re just bein’ dramatic.” He brushed the hair from your face, giving your head a rough pat.

“And you’re being an asshole.” You sighed, recalling your words. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Wouldn’t matter if ya did.” Toji hurled one of the few pebbles at the sea, watching it detonate in a firework of water. “Heard worse.”

“But I really didn’t. You used to be more of an asshole; now you’re just a little bit. A tiny bit, really.” You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’m glad we are here. And whatever your reasons for moving in were, I’m glad you did. I love our life.”

A wry smile appeared on his lips. “Better remember that next time you nag me about the dishes.”

“Water alone doesn’t remove grease. You need soap to—” You paused at his groan. “It’s fine. So what if there’s melted cheese stuck at the bottom of the pan and I can taste last week’s dinner in my glass? You are trying your best!”

“I got a job.” He cut in.

An unpleasant taste had you grimacing into his elbow. It’d been a while since you’d last cleaned up after his mess in the hall, but the foul smell of metal was unforgettable. Blood—and although it seldom belonged to him, you weren’t any more comfortable with the idea that the day would come when somebody else would scrub Toji’s blood off their clothes.

“When are you leaving?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“Not that kinda job.” Toji thought a title made a story, not details. He reached for another pebble to throw, but his hand turned out empty. Then he continued. “A shitty 9-to-5 job like all others.”

“Doing what?”

“Office stuff—how the hell should I know? Ask Kong; he’s the one who arranged it.”

“Shiu?” He shrugged rather than nodded. “But why? I never asked you to.”

“You think I’d get a job simply ‘cause you asked?” Right. That’d make no sense. “Can only off so many sorcerer brats per month to make ends meet. Rest of the year I’m left hingin’ on capital control.”

“So it is about me.”

You were dragged down against his body as Toji laid you both on the sand, his one hand draping over your shoulder while you rested your cheek on his chest. His heartbeat resonated like the sound of the ocean in your ear. Soothing and slow. A sound only you had the fortune to enjoy.

“Is that where you went last night?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, combing through your hair to distract you from the palm that shamelessly climbed down your butt. “Interview.”

You felt his fingers burrowing into your shorts, his touch innocent as far as groping was concerned. “Does this mean I’ll get to see you in a suit?”

“Like hell you are.”

“But you’re gonna have to start wearing one if you wanna make a good first impression. At least a button-up and a tie.”

“Like I care about impressions,” he said, adding a beat later that he didn’t even have one.

“When do you start? We can go shopping on Thursday, I have the day off; we could hit that store in—what are you doing?” You questioned his flipping his phone open and typing something on the screen.

“Quitting.”

“Don’t you dare!” You slapped the lid with such force that the phone bounced away from his hands and wedged into the sand.

Dusting the sand off, he packed it back in his pocket, his arms falling at his sides with no intention of resuming their activities. “I’ll just do it later.”

Silence stretched thin as the two of you gazed at the sky, long enough for you to forget you weren’t astral bodies yourselves until your own mindless admission went through.

“In my next life, I want to be a turtle. They carry their houses on their backs and don’t have to deal with rent or taxes.”

“What a sly way to say ya want me off your back.” Toji quipped.

“Something tells me you’d still find a way to stick around. You are like gum in hair. I’d need to shave my head to get rid of you.”

“Turtles don’t have hair, stupid.”

“Shh, don’t ruin my analogy.” You protested. “And why do you always call me stupid?” Your chin rolled on his chest. “I went to college. I’m at least smarter than you.”

He let out a snort. “Goin’ to college doesn’t make you any smarter. It proves you’re a nerd.”

“But you’re also pretty,” he added once you were about to sit up, the smirk you mistook for a smile forcing you to drop your guard. “Pretty stupid.”

“That’s it—you’re not coming back alive!”

Planting both knees on each side of his torso, you attempted to smack the smugness out of him, only for your wrists to be pulled forward and your head violently brought down to his level—every thought of retaliation stripped away by the proximity of his lips.

“Scary.”

What was scary was how easily you were tricked into kissing him; your feud nothing more than a pretext for Toji to lure your tongue inside his mouth. Your hands slipped from his grip to his cheeks, gently thumbing at his scar, while his palms wandered behind your back and settled on your butt, making you feel just how hard the press of your thighs had gotten him.

To someone who only knew affection in the form of sex, kissing was merely the prelude to fucking your brains out in the sand—and when you started grinding your hips against his crotch, he was convinced he’d finally catch a break.

“T-Toji,” you breathed out, following the expanse of his arms down to where his fingers fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. “We are not doing this here.”

Your warning didn’t seem half as compelling as the little moans that spilled from your agape lips, the friction between your bodies clouding your judgment. “Toji…” You tried again, slotting your fingers in between his knuckles. “Don’t want sand in my vagina.”

“I’ll suck it out.”

It took a third Toji to kill his aspiration of having the entire city of Chikura learn your names. His frown grew in an instant—an improvement to all the previous scowls he’d worn, maybe because he’d gotten further than every previous attempt and had the confidence that success lurked right around the corner.

He retrieved his hands and pieced them behind his head, hooded green eyes having yet to rid themselves of the lust behind them. “Then stop grinding on my dick already.”

You parted from him with a peck he almost denied and sat up on your heels.

“What do you want to be reborn as, Toji?” You tried to change subjects.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“One life is enough to suffer through.” He shrugged.

“And you call me dramatic,” you mumbled. “Then you don’t believe in reincarnation? I thought the Zen’ins were all pious.”

He rolled on his side, staring at the parked vehicles. Yours was not the only car around, but you hadn’t seen a pedestrian since you’d stopped for gas in the previous town. People in the country had an actual bedtime, as opposed to those in Tokyo.

“They serve religion when it serves ‘em back. Not me. Don’t believe in any of that.”

“Why not?” You pressed.

“Cause I don’t wanna be reborn as a damn turtle.”

You took a moment to process what he’d just said, blinking between “He can’t possibly mean…?” and “No way he just said that” at least a dozen times before you scooted closer, nudging him to flip toward you with a hand on his shoulder.

“Ya think turtles fuck a lot?” Toji broke the temporary silence.

“I… haven’t had the chance to ask one,” his sigh prompting you to add, “They do have a lot of babies though, so maybe?”

“Yeah… maybe.”

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, your eyes inadvertently drawn to the bulge in his pants. You felt less self-conscious about the damp patch in your underwear and the continuous pulsing between your thighs, both of which begged you to reconsider your answer. A few rounds of the most glorious sex you’d ever have were worth weeks of excruciating pain and gynecologist visits.

“I want my shirt back,” Toji suddenly said.

You peered away from all the dirty thoughts and shifted your gaze to his shirt on your body. “Now? You want me to take it off right now?”

His lack of response served as confirmation.

“But I’m not wearing anything underneath,” as if that could possibly dissuade him.

“Nobody’s looking.” He gestured toward the houses that surrounded the coastline, none of them with a light shining through their windows. “And I certainly don’t mind.”

The obvious choice was to dismiss his request as a corny joke and keep your arms pinned over your chest for the rest of the night. But with your mind so far gone and your heart (read: pussy) assuming office, you were pulling the shirt over your head before you could fully mull things over.

You shaped the cloth into a rough ball of fabric that you tossed at him, your adrenaline peaking to new heights as the realization of your breasts dangling in plain sight settled in. Toji didn’t even try to hide his gawking at them, his eyes blown with surprise. He’d underestimated your guts, and you’d overestimated whatever half-baked confidence carried you this far.

“I—I’ll just return it when we get home.” You hurriedly picked up the shirt from where it’d landed on his lap, trying your best to cover yourself up. “It n-needs a good washing too—my, look at all this—”

You halted as Toji caught your hands and slowly tugged them off your breasts, the shirt falling in an empty pool between your bodies. “Can’t believe you hid these from me.” He whispered, absolutely mesmerized by what was quickly becoming his favorite sight in the world.

His touch posed a question that a reluctant nod answered, your face burning hot and your heart thrumming loudly as Toji’s fingers made their way from your stomach to your chest, goosebumps erupting across every inch of velvet skin they traced. His palms stopped short of their destination while he sized up your reaction, half-expecting you to run off into the ocean and butterfly-stroke back home, but you remained uncharacteristically docile, bearing the intensity of his eyes for the sake of being touched.

Without any further delay, his fingers wrapped around your breasts and squeezed at them, feeling out the weight of the supple flesh in his palms before coming to a conclusion. This was worth the wait.

“You’re so pretty.” His thumbs rubbed your nipples in clockwork order, light pinches perking them up. “So damn pretty.”

“Not pretty stupid or anything?” Your smiles turned joint amidst a soft kiss.

“Nah, I’m the stupid one. You’re plain beautiful.”

“Don’t beat yourself over it.” Your breathing grew heavier as he began to kiss the corners of your mouth. “It’s the extra college years.”

“Fucking nerd. Come ‘ere.”

Toji pushed you to the ground and climbed on top, his knee parting your thighs while his hands kept true to their goal of kneading your breasts, playing with your sensitive peaks to draw the sweetest sounds from your throat.

“Y-You agreed to take things slow, remember? Only kissing.” You tugged at a tuft of hair, not minding that your actions contradicted your words—head tilted back and limbs closing around his waist as you rubbed your heat against his clothed cock.

“Relax.” He nibbled at your earlobe, his lips straying lower and lower with every word he mumbled across your skin. “Promise I won’t fuck any sand into your pussy. I’ll wait till ya beg me to fill it up with somethin’ else.”

A sly idea manifested as an equally sly smirk as Toji unlatched himself from your jaw to stare into your eyes. “How ‘bout this?”

He followed his question with a trail of kisses that led down your neck, searching for permission once his breath inched closer to your nipple, his tongue teasing its perimeter.

“This qualifies as kissing, right?”

“Is this seat taken?”

You lacked the willpower to lift your head from the untouched bowl of chao that lay before the vacant chair—the final chair left on the table aside from yours, all previous ones given away to those with an actual use for them.

The image spoke for itself. A girl who kept twisting her neck in the direction of the door, expecting someone who wouldn’t come, all the while dismissing the waiter’s discreet attempts to free the table. You got stood up, but instead of feeling anger, you only felt worry. Almost an hour had passed since Toji shoved you into this Vietnamese joint on the outskirts of Musashino and promised he’d be back after checking on something—and while Toji definitely was the type to leave without notice, he wasn’t the type to leave free food waiting.

You finally glanced at the young man, who patiently awaited your answer. He was more or less your age, stemming from a group of guys in baseball jerseys, all with a beer jug in hand. College athletes. The kind of people you both envied and avoided.

“You can have it.” You replied at the same time he asked whether you wanted to join their table.

He probably wasn’t a bad guy, and he wasn’t so hard on the eye either. At least that was your impression until he stated his reason for inviting you: because you were cute. There was room only for one sordid womanizer in your life.

Muttering an apology in a hushed tone, you pushed past him and walked outside, the cold wind inviting every hair on your body to stand in ovation. With your hands desperately trying to generate some degree of heat over your forearms, you dashed to the closest phone booth and shut the door behind you. You emptied a few coins in your palm and picked up the receiver, holding it to your ear while you dialed his beeper’s number and pressed 2.

“Hey, it’s me. I just left the restaurant and wanted to say, Hah! Your loss, loser. You really missed out. Don’t even think of asking me to pay for lunch again. That ship has sailed—you blew your chance.” A pause. One long enough for the voice in the speaker to ask you to deposit more coins to continue recording.

“That’s not all. What I wanted to say is, I—um, had fun today. I’m not mad that you went away—well, not that mad, anyway. I understand. There are things you can’t go into detail over, and—yeah, I guess that’s it.” You shook your bags near the phone. “Thank you for the Yoshi and the tapes. You should come over whenever you have time to listen to them together. Promise I’ll spare you the boring trivia.

“Actually, the trivia isn’t boring; you are the one who doesn’t appreciate it, and—damn, I’m ranting again. Just gimme a call, okay? Let me know you’re alive. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I really like your voice. If something bad were to happen, I’d miss hearing it. Maybe if my voice was as nice, you’d listen to me more, but I’m not complaining. I really like it, and I really like you.”

Your cheeks felt hot as you awkwardly chuckled. “You can’t laugh, okay? Don’t you dare laugh, ‘cause I know you like me too. I hope you do. Whatever. You’ll never hear me say this to your face, but I really like you a lot, Toji. Everything about you. I love every single thing about you. Thanks for being my friend and family.

“I’m running out of coins, so I’ll end this here. Talk to you soon. Take care.”

You placed the earphone back in its place and opened the door, banking on the negative fives to cool down your body’s elevated temperature. You managed three steps before the phone started to ring. Without second thought, you threw yourself back into the booth, apologizing as you realized the voice on the other line didn’t belong to the one you thought it would.

You were ready to hang up when the stranger’s words made your heart plummet in your chest. He wasn’t the owner of the beeper, but the device had temporarily fallen into his hands. He claimed to have found it in a manhole four kilometers away from Takaido station, and while there were a lot of gaps in his story, you agreed to meet up at a cafe a few blocks from your current location.

Meeting with a man whose face you didn’t know was risky, but the streets were filling up, and someone had to retrieve the beeper in Toji’s stead. It’d be fine.

“Alright, I’ll see you in ten to fifteen minutes, Mister Kong.”

Your footprints chased closely after you on the way to the car, two separate trails merging every few meters when Toji would lean down to press a kiss on your lips. His kisses tasted salty after that many hours on the beach, though you wouldn’t have it any other way. You wanted to cherish those moments before they crumpled and you woke up back on your couch with the memories of a dream you’d never truly lived.

In this dream, where a tomorrow had yet to dawn, he suggested that you one day return with a towel to finish what you’d started. You talked about trying out the local specialties and staying at a nearby ryokan—because in that dream, your shift didn’t start for five hours and you could afford to break the bank.

Your last stop occurred in front of the passenger seat’s door as you dusted the sand off your clothes. He wasn’t thrilled with your covering his artwork—little pink love bites and light purple bruises lacing your collarbones and breasts—but he let you wear his shirt indefinitely this time.

“Good?” You performed a small twirl, hoping that you’d gotten all the sand off your back.

Toji gestured for you to turn around again, his palm smoothing out the fabric until it landed a muted thwack on your butt. “Now ya good.” He grinned, walking over to his seat.

You held off getting in the car, stealing a final glance at the tranquil landscape before it faded away. You said goodbye to the sand, the pebbles, and the waves, leaving the trees for last, when the outline of something crawling among some rocks attracted your attention.

The creature in discussion had eight long limbs and a seemingly liquid head it dragged behind it, bits of seaweed sticking out of its coral complexion.

“Is that a curse?” You pointed at the horizon, forcing Toji to peek outside the window.

“That’s an octopus. Probably hitchhiked on the riptide.” He fixed the right-side mirror and closed the door. “Not everything’s a curse, dummy. Ya might not see another in your life—best forget it ever happened.”

He was right. You’d lived twenty seven years without a curse making a move. There was no reason to believe they’d suddenly start swarming you as if you were dipped in honey.

Once you were both inside the car, he twisted the key in the ignition, only for the engine to sputter and then immediately die. You knew the bare minimum about cars, so you assumed he knew what he was doing when he stepped outside and popped the hood to take a look at the machinery. You even thought the kick he gave the front wheel was part of some ritual to fix the failure, until he opened your door for you and, with an irritated smile, declared you weren’t going to believe this.

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