#and Id way rather have strangers she/her me than they/them me. even when I think I look super fem

[doggerell]

I got too androgynous and now I get they/themmed by any queer conscious person in my general generation but the fucking problem is I dont /want/ to be. like I respect what it represents but personally its started to make me feel sick. I swear Im just a girl.

[puppyeared]

i think the reason why im so drawn to spirit tracks and pkmn scarvi is that having the legendary/princess as a companion rather than a goal that marks the games completion makes me feel satisfied the way i would after helping a friend

my brother always teases me about how I still havent finished botw after almost 7 years bc "id rather be out picking flowers" which i wont say is untrue. and yes i know Zeldas been holding off ganon for 100 years, yes i can get some sort of idea what her relationship with link was like by recalling memories and going through her diary. ive always loved botw for its unique storytelling and setting which makes it stand out, because it lets you get to know who you're saving.

but because theyre memories, it only works if theres something for the player to investigate that already happened. its retroactive (but effective nonetheless)

on the other hand, spirit tracks does something similar but instead of having the player try to piece together memories and interpret them as a spectator, you actually have an opportunity to get to know zelda yourself by talking to her and working together. besides making it a gameplay mechanic, giving the player control over how they interact with zelda makes it so much more personable.

and I find that making the goal feel personal instead of an obligation gives me more of a reason to work towards it. I know what kind of person botw zelda was but as the player, shes still very much a stranger to me. but spirit tracks zelda? thats my friend!!!! she invited me to go to the beach after we get her body back!!! i dont want to whip her to make her move faster thats mean :(

you know how hostage negotiators are trained to introduce themselves and get to know the person theyre negotiating with because its harder to hurt someone when you know what their favorite food is? its kinda like that, because it feels like im helping a friend than being told or led to do smth

and although i havent played scarvi myself, i feel an attachment to koraidon and miraidon even just watching playthrough clips because its like!! thats my weird scaly dog!! it loves sandwiches and we're friends!!! you know!!!!!!

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

out of interest, how do you think izaya developed aspd and npd? i know that pds typically develop as a result of trauma so i suppose his parents always being absent would be a factor but id also like to hear your thoughts on it. love the aspd izaya headcanon btw

first off, thank u!

and secondly, his parents being absent would definetley be a factor. i read somewhere that its actually children whove been neglected that are more likely to develop aspd rather than children who are abused, because the complete LACK of stimului contributes to aspd more than bad stimuli does. take this with a grain of salt though because my source is "i saw it somewhere" and im 90% sure that place was NOT a study so it might be wrong

but either way, both pds are known to be caused by trauma and both have a genetic component to them. the genetic component isnt SUPER well known, but it IS known that there's a hereditery component here

so honestly? i think izaya was born with antisocial tendencies. NOT aspd, i must stress- at a very young age, if he was given adequate support and treatment, they could've stayed tendeicies and he wouldn't have developed fullblown aspd. he couldve turned out like one of those guys with a bit of a skewed morality system but is otherwise mentally healthy enough to participate in society without wanting to kill himself or others. quirks over disorder

but from pretty much every account i can think of, izaya was ALWAYS an odd child, to the point where it was his father that instilled a love of humanity into him

When he was younger, I saw he was distant from others, and that made me worried. And so I wanted him to come to like humans and become a man who could strongly love people twice as others would. (source)

of course this isnt exactly very detailed wrt izayas behavior, but if its enough that his absent father noticed, it mustve been pretty serious

so wrt his aspd, i think he was born with those kinds of tendencies, which were then exasperated by the neglect and ergo got worse and worse over the years, culminating in high school with his friendship with shinra, blackmailimg of nakura, and his beginning to poke his nose in the underground

his npd is a bit trickier

so, the way i personally developed npd is that my mom would seem to have two perceptions of me in her head, depending on wether or not i was following the Good Perception or not. the first me, the good one, was intelligent, kind, and filled with potential. the other one was a stupid lazy monster. i was the good one, up until i did anything she didnt like, then i was the bad one. these two ideas getting fed into me led to me clinging onto the Good Perception as how i really was, and if something even for a second made me slip, i'd crash down from total egoism to total repulsion. And It Sucked!

(disclaimer: do not armchair diagnose my mother. i have my theories but they will stay private and i absolutely do not want a STRANGER butting into this, especially when they could know less abt mental illness than me and thus spread misinformation)

now, i dont think izaya's parents were like my mom- but there was still a dichotomy at play here. he would go to school, where he would be a smart student and praised by his teachers, even if he kept to himself. then, he'd go home, and be alone. as he got older, it only got worse- humans are social creatures, and we don't take well to being lonely. the mind starts to cope with it however it can.

as izaya started to venture deeper into the underground, he couldve started to develop a superiority complex about it. see, look- he's smarter than everyone. better than everyone. that's why he's alone, its because he's too good to be around them. not because he's worse. he's better.

because, especially once he gets to high school age... izaya is smart. izaya is perceptive. izaya would be able to tell that there's something different about him, and that's why people avoid him and he avoids them. there's something wrong with him in a way that's repulsive and unpalatable to most. that'd wreck a kid's self-image, especially a neglected kid's, since he'd already have low self-image from, yk, the neglect

and the dichitomy of the low and high self-image makes him develop npd- the ego masks the low self esteem, but both are equally felt and true, its not like his egoism and god complex are fake- it's all very real, he feels it all and believes it genuinely, and he clings onto it because if he slips, he KNOWS where he's gonna plummet

anyway thats just my take on it!! "it was his childhood" is prolly a boring answer but honestly a lot of mental illness has that answer at the root of it. art imitates life and all

[bettercostume]

i was tagged and id rather rub my face in my multi-start fics than finish sooo

rules: share the first lines of your ten most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyways.

FJFJKF EDITED TO ADD THE BAD BOY WHO TAGGED ME @thesupermegahell and yet another long ago tag @mebiselfandi vfndjknkdfj

1.i like it in ur blood, neymessi star warz au (1/4 complete or 1/2 if i really get my shit together. i have basically two similar but not fics in the same doc and i can't make it past the inciting incident):

Being assigned a padawan had been a surprise, especially since the council preferred to pretend Leo didn’t exist outside of high-casualty battle situations. He hadn’t understood, at first, that it was meant to be a punishment. He was dumb in that way. Couldn’t see basic political maneuvering if it weighed him down with a fucking teenager who they weren’t even sure was force sensitive.  

2. murders and acquisitions, ghost band, (1/8 complete because that fandom can choooooke):

Terzo had arrived in a private jet, brutally hungover, hair tangled and stinking of sweat. In the car to the abbey he’d slept spread out on the backseat, shoes kicked up on the leather. 

3. we love the love of the wolf, liulao, mortal kombat (1/2 complete):

Liu Kang had been stretching into a handstand–tailbone tucked, neck extended–that would hopefully evolve into a one-handed spring when something huge and hard collided with him. If you’d have asked him at the moment he regained consciousness, he would have said it must have been one of the steel barrels they used to burn trash and heat the training ring, tipped over and trying to escape to relative freedom in the ravine beyond the temple, the wind in its, well, non-existent barrel hair. 

4. 13 angels gathered around a hospital bed, neymessi space au (???????):

When Leo wakes up, it’s very dark. It’s not the dark of nighttime in the cockpit or the dark of a systems malfunction; it’s something more alive and therefore, worse.  Something somewhere is burning. The smell is getting stronger, but more startling is the feeling of wind on his face, carrying ash, something gentle and soft brushing over his cheek. This means his face must be bare. And this means, he realizes, smoke filling his mouth and still-open eyes, he must be– 

5. outside child, mortal kombat (only the prologue, milena daughter-father character study):

“One thing about gods,” her father told her, “Is that they’re boring. What you see is what you get. Any depth is manufactured to make you feel at ease. If they even bother.” They’d been outside the last temple to the elder gods in Outworld, watching as the Kahn’s forces moved among pillars, silent and focused as ants.  “Can you believe people still pray to them,” he said, lip curling.

6. we built this up in one day, moonknight, marc/steven (1/4 finished can't make the pivot from hardcore bareback sex to whatever else im trying to say and steven's fucking rhumba class):

“Have you ever taken a holiday?” Steven asks. They’re in bed; Steven still thinks it’s funny to say well Marc, shall we retire? Before pulling up the covers, comfortable in his ownership of their shared life. It’s unnerving to Marc, who spent a year carting his belongings back and forth before Layla caught his elbow and said babe, I cleared a drawer for you in October. He still remembers the little crease between her brows when he’d said it was just in case she changed her mind. She hadn’t laughed. It hadn’t been a joke, even if he’d tried to make it one. Steven, on the other hand, delights in easy comfort now that he can get a full eight hours and is no longer at the whim of Marc and by extension, a stranger in his own body. Marc watches him smell Marc’s aftershave and text Layla about the new smoothie place by the station. He feels guilt and something like envy and then guilt again, pinging Steven mid-chop of some cabbage. Steven is sensitive. Marc is good at hiding, though, so he piles these things away, locked tight. Well, he tries. 

7. untitled boba fett and tusken civilization 20000 word thing i love and feel so strongly about but have not woked on for 8 months. it is literally my favorite and pooooorly presented here:

Boba had done a considerable amount of work on Tatooine, hunting various lowlifes and lowlife-adjacent civilians through the hardscrabble towns that clung to viable wells: Mos Eisley, Mos Pelgos, Mos Espa. He had tracked people into the desert, but they were usually offworlders who collapsed under the twin suns on the second day or careerists who knew better than to take their chances in the dune sea. He had never hunted a Tusken. For one thing, no sane person put bounties on them. No one could reliably find them, even if they were on good terms with the tribe, and those people were few and far between. 

what i've learned: we love to start on a dialogue tag, we are poor at setting the scene, i have excellent concepts but a poor delivery ratio. whatever. i would love to see what @steeple-sinderby-wanderers is up to but also this is kind of an insane ask lol.

[autumnfangirler]

20 24 18 for any character?

questions from here!

ill answer for all of my steps because i can't make a decision to save my life :')

18. What is their greatest fear?

Caine- hmmm, this is a difficult question for him. they kinda lost their ability to care much about themeselves after the whole farm ordeal. id probably go with identity loss though! outsider scar means theyre already disconnected from the world as is, and he likes being the puppet too much, to the point they worry that "caine" as a personality would be totally gone if he isn't careful

Cyrus- he would rather die than admit this, but losing the people he cares about. he'd rather cut them off by his own hand than let anybody else take them away from him again

Cecilia- if you asked her she'd probably say going back to the farm, but that stems more from the fear of being abandoned and helpless. its part of the reason shes so adamant about connecting and befriending people; its like a failsafe in case something happens to her

Cynthia- same with cyrus! shes just a lot more open with her worry for other people, and she wouldn't willingly give it up (though its getting harder and harder to hold on to that feeling– sometimes she wonders if the concern is real or if shes just going along with the script she was taught)

20. How do they feel about death?

Caine- he doesn't think much about it, really. they've accepted it as part of life, and if its their time to die, so be it. until then, he'll try his best to avoid it. unless the farm gets to him, then death is very much preferable

Cyrus- *looks at suitag* hm! not great! he doesn't want to die before his goals are complete, but death is unpredictable, and he doesnt like that. he wants to be in control of it, even if that means taking matters into his own hands

Cecilia- shes staring death in the face and laughing. she acts like death doesnt apply to her because she already escaped death once, so in a way, it doesnt. and if if does, then she'd be too dead to care so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cynthia- scared. very scared of death. she lost the people she loved most because of it, both when it happened to her and when it happened to the people she cared about. shes trying so hard to keep people safe, nobody should have to go through that sort of grief, and certainly not from her hand

24. How do they typically come across to strangers? to friends? do they frequently use their telepathy to influence others' perceptions of them?

Caine- to strangers, he tends to come across as unapproachable and aloof. his friends know hes just a very confused idiot 😔 theyre very dependent on their telepathy to read moods and intentions, and they abuse their "do not percieve me" aura, but other than that, no, which is a shame. hes fighting for his life against those sus stats

Cyrus- strangers see him as prickly and cold. to friends,,,,he's not much better. but his friends are very aware its a mask he puts up, theyve seen him be warm and sappy more than once. and yes, absolutely he does. conversation and interaction are his battleground, and he prefers to have the upper hand whenever he can

Cecilia- bubbly! very sweet, extroverted, and loud. that said, the more you talk to her, the more you can see how blunt and unforgiving she can really be. its never on purpose, but if they cant handle her, then theyre not worth talking to anyway. she doesnt use her telepathy to change others perceptions of her– they can draw their own conclusions, the people that like her can tag along for the ride

Cynthia- she tends to act more polite and withdrawn to the people shes not close to, and while shes a friendly person in general, thats still a lot of people. the people shes comfortable opening up to find her to be a lot less sociable than she comes across, usually opting to share companiable silence than holding conversation. as for her telepathy, she has mixed feelings about it, but she doesnt like using it to change peoples minds

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Guten Tag, id love some more of the simp reader stuff. With Shenhe, Ganyu, Ningguang and Raiden shogun.

I’m a guy but I don’t mind if it’s gender neutral.

Have a great day!

Them with a reader that's a simp [part 2]

characters: Ganyu/Ei/Shenhe x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Servus, I write for 3 characters max (the only exception being when I absolutely feel like including a 4th character), so I decided to not write about Ningguang, since she's the one of the 4 requested characters, that I know the least of.

Anyway, hope you enjoy and have a nice day/night!

Ganyu

Ganyu, being the unnecessarily self-conscious person that she was, always had a hard time dealing with compliments, never really being convinced that she deserved them, they made her blush no matter who they came from, but the closer she was to the person, the more of a flustered mess she would become.

So, when she met you, someone that didn’t even think twice about complimenting her when she did something you thought was cute, she realized that she would probably blush a lot for a long time. And even though the two of you met more and more frequently, and she became accustomed to your constant, genuine compliments, by the time the two of you decided to go out, she still found herself blushing every time.

When Ganyu had asked you, if you were willing to accompany her to take one of the naps she always had at lunchtime, you didn’t even hesitate for a second before agreeing. But when you were finally there and the half adepti fell asleep with her head on your shoulder, you found it very difficult to follow suite, instead looking at her sleeping face while trying your best to keep the sounds, you felt the urge to make every time you found something to be cute, from leaving your mouth, fearing that it might wake her up. And so you sat there, for the whole duration of Ganyu’s nap, it wasn’t that long, since she knew that there was still work for her to do, but still long enough to bore someone that was forced to sit still and had no distractions. And if it weren’t for you admiring her sleeping face the whole time, you might have also found yourself be bored.

“Thanks for agreeing to come with me, I know that there probably were other things you wanted to do during your lunchbreak, so I’m sorry if I-”, she started to nervously apologise, only to be cut off by you.

“You’re sorry? Ganyu, there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend time with you”, your assurance managed to calm her down, making a small smile appear on your face, only for it to be replaced by nothing but shy embarrassment the moment you continued speaking. “And your face was so cute while you slept. It was- I can’t put in into words. Take a puppy and multiply its cuteness by a thousand.”

“W-We should go back to work, there’s still a bit waiting to be done, so how about we continue talking afterwards?”, she suggested, followed by her quickly standing up and once again say goodbye before hurrying of with her red face in her hands.

Ei

Ei wasn’t a stranger to people worshipping her in one way or another. She was, after all, a literal goddess ruling over Inazuma, so she wasn’t really phased by it anymore. But you were different. Instead of showing your love for your archon through absolute loyalty, like a certain general seemed to do, or literally praying to her before going to sleep, you instead brought her delicious sweets every once in a while, recommended her all kinds of books and spent most of your leisure time with her. Ei didn’t even remember how you two got to a point where it became acceptable for you to simply march into the tenshukaku with no other reason other than that you want to see her, or when she became so accustomed to seeing you each day, that her day felt somewhat incomplete without seeing you for at least a split second.

Like on most days, you walked past the guards in front of the tenshukaku, slightly raising your basket to them before seeing one of them nod. Once you were in there, you instantly beelined towards her room, only stopping once you were in front of the door. After giving it a few knocks in the same pattern you always did, you heard her voice, telling you to come inside.

“Good morning, Ei! How was your day so far?”, you greeted before sitting down at the small table in the middle of the room, giving her a grin while waiting for her answer.

“Good morning to you too. My day was fine so far, nothing noteworthy happened so far”, she answered while returning you a small smile and sitting down opposite to you.

“Well, that’s great to hear, but your day will become much better now”, you announced before putting the basket on the table and revealing the delicious looking sweets in it. Not a second afterwards, Ei’s eyes widened. The archon quickly thanked you before taking a bite out of the first one, all the while visibly enjoying every second of it.

Ei always wondered why you would spent your time and money to please her, there certainly were a lot cheaper and easier ways to show your gratitude towards your godhood, but when she opened her eyes for just a fraction of a second, and saw the look on your face, which almost looked the same way she imagined her own to look whenever she adored whatever she tasted something she absolutely loved, it seemed to her, as if she finally found the answer.

Shenhe

Since she was a child and left to die in a cave by her own father, Shenhe was used to being distant to other humans. Most were either intimidated by her Adeptus-like appearance, others feared her because of her-… odd approach to problem solving. So, when she rescued you from a large group of Hilichurls, she didn’t expect you to do anything more than give her a rushed thank you before running off. But instead of doing that, you thanked her more often, than she herself had spoken that day and from that day onward, you would actively seek her out whenever you could. And while she was awkward at first, being everything but skilled when it came to social interactions, she quickly grew accustomed to you.

Once she was able to hold a conversation with you that didn’t consist solely of you trying your best to speak with her, while she answered in short answers, and the two of you grew closer, she couldn’t help but notice you starting to compliment more and more of what she did. Whenever she would defeat an opponent, you would always talk about how cool she looked, or when she showed you a rare, small smile, you would never fail to compliment it in a seemingly genuine way. You of course didn’t endorse everything she did and tried to teach her the social norms, that the people of Liyue had towards “unnecessary violence”, but having someone around her, that really seemed to like spending time with her, was something that caused her to feel happy enough, that she would feel it despite her red ropes.

“Hello Shenh-”, you wanted to greet her, only to freeze completely in your tracks, the moment you noticed her wearing the small hairpin you had gifted her just the day before. It looked even better on her, than you had imagined it to, but your sudden silence caused Shenhe to stare at you with a slightly worried look on her face. “You look fantastic with the hairpin. Not that you don’t look beautiful without it, but it makes you even prettier”, you started complimenting her before she had the chance to worry about you even more. But when you saw an ever so slight blush form on her cheeks, it made you want to happily scream into a pillow.

“Thanks… I didn’t think it would even be noticeable”, she responded while quickly touching the pin with one of her hands.

“If you didn’t think it would be noticeable, why wear it?”, you asked, only to slap yourself mentally the moment the words came out of your mouth. Just because something isn’t noticeable, doesn’t mean that you don’t want to wear it, why else would people wear socks for archons sake? But Shenhe didn’t seem to find your question weird, instead instantly answering it.

“You gave it to me… and I hoped it would remind me of you when you’re somewhere else”, she stated in an almost indifferent voice, and even though Shenhe herself didn’t seem to think her answer would cause any large reaction from you, it was your turn to blush. Just that sentence alone was enough to melt your heart and make a smile appear on your face, that didn’t vanish for the rest of the day.

[chosonore]

infatuation

infatuation [noun. strong but not usually lasting feelings of love or attraction]

pairing: kamo choso/f!reader

summary: in a spurt of recklessness, you hire an escort to help you learn about relationships and intimacy. what you didn't expect was to fall in love with him along the way. [part of the kamo escorts collab]

wordcount: 23.3k

content/warnings: escorts au, slow burn, language, smut!!!, fluff, soft dom!choso, reader is very oblivious and painfully awkward, awkward firsts, dry humping, handjobs, oral sex (m + f receiving), fingering, uh somewhat public sex, loss of virginity, oral fixation, praise kink, lowercase is intended [VERY VERY UNEDITED]

a/n: hello here it is and finally done!!! i've been sitting at this for a week straight now and while i'm not super happy with it, it would've been a shame to just throw it out tbh. writing improvement is a slow progress after all! i'm dedicating this to @sukirichi who always hyped me up while i was writing this, happily welcomed me to the collab and who always supports my writing and i really appreciate it. thank you, from the bottom of my heart! (argh i have so many cut scenes that i ran out of space for dividers, sorry! hope the reading flow still makes sense though)

"that's what you were so worried about?" nobara looked at you incredulously, as if you grew two heads and asked for her firstborn. "you were scared that guys don't like you because you've never dated anyone?"

you let out an embarrassed whine, pushing at her arm in an attempt to get her to shut up. it wasn't your fault that she jumped to (multiple and very wrong) conclusions when you'd called her and maki, asking them to meet up so you could ask for advice. even maki looked mildly amused, patting your head apologetically. you were well aware of how ridiculous your issue sounds - the topic of dating had always made you anxious. you came from a very wealthy family that always sheltered and protected you from everything. you were their precious little girl after all; your father would rather drop dead than have you mingle with people who didn't treat you well and didn't deserve you. they meant well and it had never been an issue until you moved out to attend university (your parents had acted like you were leaving to travel the world and would never return, when really, you only moved two hours away from home).

even though nobara, maki and you had quickly become friends after you'd met at an event, you were wary to tell them about your background. it worried you, knowing how some people would treat you differently just to get on your good side and use you, so you opted to skirt around it as much as possible. it took you months until you opened up to them when you finally mustered up enough courage and trust to do so. they kept your secrets ever since, always protecting you and looking out for you. you were truly glad to be their friend. the two of them had grown suspicious when you kept declining their invites to join them for parties or to simply go to a bar and you were slowly starting to feel more and more guilty until you couldn't take it anymore and just confessed, asking them for advice.

"so that's why you're nervous even around inumaki," nobara concluded, propping her chin up in thought. "i didn't think your parents would be this protective. do they know that you want to start dating now?"

"no…" you confessed, fidgeting in your seat. "my dad, he um- he means well and usually has a good radar when he says that a guy doesn't deserve me. but i thought it was time to venture out on my own. it's good to have some experience, right?"

"i mean you're not wrong but i don't want you to be asking for advice simply because you feel pressured about dating since everyone else is doing it," maki retorted, giving you a concerned look.

you quickly shook your head. it wasn't that you felt pressured about not having any experience yet. you didn't necessarily want to admit to them that you were a hopeless romantic and liked the idea of being with someone; in the end, it was your own decision to venture. men made you nervous, you didn't know how to act around them and the thought of approaching a stranger by yourself was too scary. maybe it was a better idea to find someone to show you the ropes first, you felt embarrassed about your lack of knowledge and skills and - it wouldn't hurt to have some kind of dating training, right?

"i mean, technically, you could just ask one of the guys to take you out on a fake date. i'm sure megumi wouldn't mind," nobara was already pulling out her phone, making you grabbing her hand in panic and furiously shaking your head.

"i don't want to get them involved in this! it would make things pretty awkward and that's the last thing i would want. isn't there any other solution?" you explained quietly, playing with the hem of the dress. you felt bad for rejecting all their suggestions but you simply didn't want to be a burden to your other friends either.

"well," nobara and maki looked at each other grinning. "you could hire a fake boyfriend."

"really? you can hire tho-"

"escorts, y/n, escorts," nobara pushed her phone over to you, pointing on the screen. frowning, you read the little description. kamo escorts. you'd never thought about hiring someone, let alone knew enough about the topic. judging from nobara's face, she seemed to be well versed and it made you slightly suspicious.

"it's the easiest way for you and you have enough money to pay for their service. it's convenient, you can adjust it to your schedule and they'll send someone who fits your preferences. you choose the spot for your date and they'll make it happen, right? it's perfect and you don't have to worry about getting anyone involved," she explained, tapping at the bottom of the screen. "just give them a call, they'll walk you through the entire process. if you don't like it, you can find someone else or just abort mission."

"what do you mean they'll send someone who fits my preferences?" it did sound like an easy process, almost too easy. something was bound to go wrong, you could feel it. "i don't even know what my preferences are, so how could they possibly-"

"y/n, you might be blind but we are not," maki flicked your forehead playfully, she was more perceptive than you. "if you want, you can call them right now and we'll help you with the preferences, okay? maybe that'll ease your nerves a little."

"now?" you squeaked, eyes widening in horror. you weren't prepared at all; when you invited them over you were only planning to gather advice and then act on it.

"yeah! come on, it'll be fun and it's not like they can see your face," nobara grinned and was already dialing the number, moving away from you agilely before you could snatch the phone out of her hands. you wanted the earth to swallow you, why did they think that this was a good id-

"good evening, thank you for calling kamo escorts. my name is ijichi, how may i help you?" a male voice sounded from the phone, you instinctively dove behind the couch but maki was quicker and pulled you back with one fluid motion. curse her strength and speed.

"yes, hi, my friend here would like to hire an escort but she's too shy to do so, so we're helping her with the entire process. i hope you don't mind?"

"if it helps to ease the nerves, not at all."

nobars nudged you, holding the phone out. you pouted at her, shaking your head like a stubborn child. she rolled her eyes and pushed the phone into your hand forcefully, making you panic as you didn't want ijichi hearing your wrangling.

"um, yes, i- i'd like to hire someone but- ah nobara already mentioned that! it's for… for dates! i just need someone to go on dates with me."

"i see. is this a formal event?"

"n-no! i just need dating training of sorts, so casual is fine… if i do need to attend a formal event in the future, would that be a problem?"

"not at all, simply let us know when booking. our escorts are trained to be able to adapt to any situation and event, there is nothing you need to worry about, miss. do you have any specific preferences?"

"uh i-"

nobara leaned over your shoulder. "she prefers more mature guys! someone who's caring and attentive, someone who's not too outgoing and loud, it has to match her energy! since this is date training, there's probably going to be a lot of awkwardness so we'll need someone who is patient too. someone who can act like the best boyfriend to ever boyfriend. as for looks, i think she's fine with everything- although wait, maybe dark hair. yep, dark hair."

you couldn't believe her, she practically directed the entire call for you as if she'd made a plan beforehand, knowing that it would come to this. there was no doubt that she'd had this in mind, this was nobara after all. maki, on other hand, was watching you amused; she didn't usually engage in whatever shenanigans nobara was up to but she was always a bystander who very much enjoyed your reaction just now.

"miss, do you agree with the listed preferences?" ijichi asked after a moment of silence. you could hear him typing and occasionally scribbling on paper.

"yeah, yes, that's fine. is it possible to book him on weekends? i don't know if this is going to work out just yet so maybe once a week on fridays? i've never done this before so yeah."

"that is doable, yes. if you wish to engage in sexual relations, you may discuss it with your escort. these services come at an additional cost, of course."

"i don't-"

nobara interrupts you again, smirking at you cheekily. "it would be beneficial, so please take that into consideration when choosing the escort!"

"alright, thank you," ijichi went silent for a minute while he was organizing the files and schedules. "there are some possible candidates with whom i have to check with first. i will get back to you, should they agree to the job. after that we can exchange personal information and contacts so we can discuss the matter further."

"okay um. thank you, mr ijichi, i appreciate your help," you thanked him bashfully, giving him your number before thanking him again. you were already so deep in thought that you didn't even listen to his reply. now you've really gone and done it. were you crazy? what if your parents found out? they'd riot and be immensely disappointed in you. getting some dating experience through dating an escort, only nobara could ever come up with something like this.

"how do you feel?" maki inquired and rubbed your shoulders in concern, seeing how quiet you suddenly grew. weakly shrugging with your shoulders, you grasped the fabric of your shirt and nervously fiddled with it. the entire ordeal filled you with anxiety, a myriad of thoughts circling in your brain. it was the first time doing something "reckless" and it left you feeling nauseous.

"i'm not sure." you hesitated. "i'm curious to see how it goes but it just makes me really nervous. how do i act around him? and what if he finds me weird?"

"i don't think he's going to think you're weird just because you get nervous around guys. and besides, ijichi said he'd find the perfect guy for you, yeah? don't worry about it too much. if you don't feel comfortable after the first date, we'll figure something out."

"i guess so… um, but you guys don't mind accompanying me to it? just to make sure it's not some weird guy?" upon seeing your hopeful face, the two girls couldn't say no - of course not, you were their precious, innocent friend. as amusing as this situation was to them, they wanted nothing more than to support you and see you happy as well. you had already done a tiny step out of your little, sheltered world and much more was to come.

the ring of your phone nearly scared you to death, making you drop the book you were holding. quietly cursing, you picked it up and placed it on the table before answering the phone. who was even calling you at this time? everyone knew you were busy in the evening, slaving away on your assignments. it must be really important to interrupt your workflow like this- you almost dropped your phone in shock when you recognized ijichi's voice on the other side. admittedly, you forgot about the entire ordeal and didn't expect him to get back to you so soon. "good evening, ms y/n. i'm calling you regarding your inquiry so we can finalize all the details."

"u- uhm yes! thank you for calling!"

although ijichi was kind and patient, you were still nervous as you scribbled the details on a piece of paper. your escort's name was choso, he was a few years older than you and his schedule was very flexible. there wasn't more info, ijichi had announced that choso would call you as soon as possible. dread filled your stomach - it was nerve wracking to meet new people, not to mention someone you hired to be your fake boyfriend for the day. and now that you knew he was calling, all focus and concentration was thrown out the window. silently, you sat at the table and stared at your phone, waiting for the screen to light up. maki and nobara didn't need to know about this new development just yet as you wanted to navigate this on your own before telling them.

not too long after, your phone rang again, an unknown number flashing across the screen. it had to be him. even though you mentally prepared yourself for minutes, the anxiety came back full force. with trembling hands, you picked up, holding your breath as you waited for an answer. a deep, rather dulcet voice greeted you from the other side. you liked the sound of his voice, it almost put you at ease if it wasn't for your mind that constantly reminded you what was going on. you hastily introduced yourself to him and told him why you were requesting his services. the entire time, he was silent and let you speak - although you appreciated that he didn't interrupt you, every second that was passed in silence agonized you.

"hello y/n, my name is choso and i'll be your escort for the time being. ijichi told me you were looking for someone to pose as your fake boyfriend?"

"ah, uh yes sort of! i don't… have any experience when it comes to boyfriends and that kind of stuff. and i- i just wanted to learn what it's like to d- date and- and," your voice got smaller and smaller, until it was a mere whisper that was filled with all kinds of embarrassment that you felt. you couldn't help it, hopefully choso was still able to decipher what you were explaining. "you know, k- kissing and all that stuff. i've never done it with anyone before."

"i see," choso paused for a second, making your heart race. "i can't say i've had this situation before but i'm confident in my skills to guide you through this. before we first meet, let's set some boundaries so you feel comfortable at all times, okay?"

you hummed and nodded, although he couldn't see you over the phone. choso sounded like what nobara had described your ideal type - ijichi really had delivered and chosen the best possible match. choso knew what to say and how to steer the conversation in such a way that it didn't make you feel helpless or anxious. and you, in turn, felt like you could trust him with this issue.

"y- yes! uhm when i first called ijichi, a friend of mine helped me with the process and requested someone who was comfortable with sexual relations but… uh, to be honest, i never thought of requesting them. i'm not entirely sure if i want to do it either… i want to approach this in a slow manner, as slow as possible."

"alright, i can work with that. as for our first meeting, have you picked a time and location?"

you sighed in relief. choso seemed like a really nice and understanding person, leaving most of the options up to you. you knew it was part of his job but it felt nice to know that he was so forthcoming and accommodating. for the first date, you’d chosen a nice restaurant that had good reviews and little private booths. even though there was no way your father would ever magically appear and find out about your escapades, you were still trying to be secretive and cautious. the restaurant was situated in a widespread estate with beautiful gardens, the perfect spot to take stroll after dinner. in all the romance books you’d consumed, these type of dates seemed to be very popular - you thought to yourself why not? as you discussed your plans with him, you briefly wondered what he looked like. it felt weird asking him about it and you'd meet him soon anyways. maybe he looked like what you thought his personality was - like a prince charming? the prince that your dad had always assured you would come along. a small giggle left your lips at the thought of it; it was silly to believe it would turn out to be the love of your life. though it made you giddy thinking of your prince charming.

“is everything okay?”

“ah sorry, everything’s fine! i just had a silly thought a moment ago, that’s all,” reassuring choso quickly, you rubbed your cheeks in embarrassment. he must’ve thought that you were going crazy. “anyways, thank you for um, everything. i feel more comfortable now that i’ve discussed the details with you, thank you for being so patient. i look forward to meeting you!”

on the other end, choso hesitated, startled by your sudden enthusiasm when you were rather shy and timid before. it seemed that you were willing to open up a little more. he was curious himself, never having dealt with such a case before. usually, only experienced people who were looking for eye candy to accompany them to fancy events would hire him. he couldn’t imagine what you were like before meeting - it was nicer to get to know you in person after all, for the sake of a date setting. still, how were you able to afford the services? considering you were most likely a college student, he couldn’t fathom what lengths you went just to gain some experience. though he supposed, he shouldn’t judge you too quickly.

“i look forward to meeting you as well. see you on saturday, y/n.”

for hours you’d gone back and forth between outfits - casual? or more cute? maybe a mix of both? maki wasn’t much of a help either, mostly just giving you a thumbs up for every outfit while nobara had something to criticize about every outfit. you sighed, tossing yet another shirt onto the heaping pile of clothes. it was hard trying to impress someone that you didn’t know. the last item on your list was a simple, flowy dress and it seemed to be the best fit. you didn’t want to agonize over the choices any longer, seeing that the date was inching closer and closer. maki looked like she was bored out of her mind as well, scrolling through her phone as she was lounging on your couch with nobara. “are you sure you’ll be fine?” maki questioned you again. she was relieved about your good mood, how you were less apprehensive about the entire ordeal. when you first told them about choso after the phone call, you sounded slightly excited and were gushing about how nice he had been. you were hopeful that you could learn a lot from him. however, maki couldn’t help but worry about you, constantly making sure you were feeling okay.

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, don’t worry! we agreed to just have dinner today and let me test the waters… we’re really just doing whatever i feel comfortable doing for now,” you explained to the two of them, smoothing out the dress before grabbing your bag. “so yeah, i’m ready, i think. i mean if anything was to happen, i’ll let you know right away. i really have to go now though, you guys coming?”

nobara made a noise of protest, not wanting to get up from your bed which promptly earned her a nudge from maki. you giggled at your friend’s antics, grasping her arm to pull her up. as lighthearted and happy as you acted, you tried to hide your nervousness in front of your friends. worrying them did no good. as the three of you made your way to the restaurant, you checked your phone to see a text message from choso who asked to meet you in front of the building. you agreed, telling him that you would be there soon. the phone pinged again, choso had sent you a simple smiley. it made you grin a little, earning a suggestive glance from nobara whom you gently shoved.

"text us if anything happens, yeah? we can also pick you up afterwards so don't worry about it," maki reminded you again as you rounded the corner of the street, stopping mere meters in front of the restaurant so you could say goodbye to them. again, you reassured them that you would do as they suggested. you would be fine, because after all, choso was a professional. waving at your friends’ retreating figures, you slowly walked towards the entrance and let your eyes wander. the streets were busy, you couldn’t immediately make out anyone who was waiting in front of the restaurant. not that you really knew what choso looked like, you just hoped your search wouldn’t get more difficult with people waiting in the front. glancing at your reflection on the windows of a parking car, you made sure that you looked presentable and approachable.

“y/n?” your soul nearly left your body as you got startled by a deep voice behind you, now suddenly being aware of the figure behind you. whirling around, you almost hit the other person with your small bag with the swing. your eyes widened and you apologized profusely, fussing around to make sure the person was okay until you paused. wait a minute. this person knew your name. abruptly leaning back so you could look at the person’s face - they were very, very tall - you incredulously stared at them before spluttering: “c- choso? you’re choso?”

the taller male nodded, gently grasping your shoulders to steady you. on your bare skin, his hands felt scalding hot, making you painfully aware of how close you stood to each other. choso, for a lack of better terms, looked nothing like you’d expected but you couldn’t complain. he was attractive, very much so. he almost fit into the bad boy category, the type of men your dad would never let you close to. you felt inexplicably drawn to choso, like a moth to flames and you just couldn’t look away. he stared back at you, dark eyes glinting with concern as he took in your form. as your voice had suggested, you appeared to be a rather shy and timid person, looking at him like a deer in headlights. choso thought you were adorable, the way you were holding onto the sleeves of his shirt to not fall.

“i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to hit you! you just really scared me there,” you apologized again, letting go of the fabric in embarrassment. luckily, he didn’t seem to mind, patiently waiting until you were composed again.

“don’t worry about it, i’m okay. it’s nice to finally meet you. should we head inside?” he offered you his arm which you gratefully took and followed him inside. truth to be told, you were starstruck by him, still too flabbergasted to say another word. thankfully, choso had picked up on your speechlessness, silently chuckling to himself as he led you to your private booth. you sat across from him, quietly thanking the waiter as he handed you the menu. eyes flitting back and forth between it and choso, you fiddled with the hem of your dress. what would you even talk about? you felt awkward, not knowing what to ask him; your confidence had suddenly vanished with the earlier incident.

“you look like you’re about to faint,” choso teased you, giving you a cheeky smile. “i’m not gonna bite you, i promise. i’m supposed to be your fake boyfriend, right? ask me whatever you want, just act like we’re good friends. it’ll get better with time.”

you nodded eagerly, face heating up at the mention of boyfriends. how does one even act around them without prior experience? let’s not dwell on it for too long, you thought to yourself. fidgeting on your seat, you pointed at the menu. "do you already know what you'll be getting? a lot of people online recommended their signature dish so i thought we could try it… but all of their dishes sound really good!"

“how about we order different dishes and try from each other then?” choso suggested in response, amusedly watching how your eyes lit up at his idea. you nodded quickly, delving back into the menu to find your desired dish. glancing over to his side to see what he was looking at, you then pushed your menu over to him, pointing at the dish you would be ordering. choso nodded in understanding, skimming the pages until he found a dish that complimented it. not wanting to let you wait any longer, he gave the waiter a sign, ordering for the two of you. across of him, you stayed quiet, still contemplating what to ask him.

“feel free to ask me anything,” choso reminded you again, propping his chin on his hand and leaned closer to you. “when you first get to know someone, dates are really just to spend time with each other and getting to know the other person. if there’s something you two have in common, you’ll just go from there and bond over it, yeah?”

humming in thought, you nodded and looked up at him. “so uhm… what do you like to do in your free time? i’m still in uni, so i spend most of my days studying. but i really like reading when i’m free and i also volunteer at an animal shelter. the pets there make me really happy!”

“my job takes up the majority of my time, so i try to spend time with family and friends as much as possible. my younger brother has gotten me into surfing and paddle boarding, i really enjoy doing that. what do you study, if i may ask?”

“i want to become a veterinarian in the future! it’s been my dream ever since i was younger, so yeah… you said you have a younger brother? i have an older sister but we don’t have much in common since she’s a lot older than me. but um surfing! so you spend a lot of time at the beach, right? i haven’t been there in a long time.”

“if you still wish to continue after today’s date, we could go to the beach next time? i can teach you, it’s not that difficult.”

surprised, your eyes widened at his suggestion. he seemed to be confident that there would be a next time and you couldn’t even deny that possibility. so far, you were easing into the conversation more and more - the process was more natural than the whole setting suggested. though he still made you nervous, he had been nothing but respectful of your space and friendly. not to mention that you were attracted to him as well; if you hadn’t hired him, you could imagine actually getting close to him.

"i- i'd love that." as you told him more about yourself and listened to his stories, you didn’t notice how much time had passed until the waiter suddenly appeared in front of you, presenting you the dishes. your mouth was watering at the sight of the delicious dishes, you couldn’t wait to dig in. quickly thanking the waiter, you then took a bite from the dish after he left. you sighed in satisfaction, taking your time to properly taste the first bite.

“this is so good, you need to try it!” you gushed, pushing your plate closer to the middle of the table. choso chuckled, sharing his plate with you as well. as you took in all the side dishes, he'd already taken it upon himself to pick up a smaller piece with his chopsticks, nudging it towards you. you looked at him confused, then back at the small piece of food. was he trying to-? carefully, you leaned in and let him feed you, confusion and hesitation immediately melting at the taste. the food made you happy, but the unusual intimacy and closeness that he just showed you wasn't lost in between the myriad emotions.

as you had dinner, the previous conversation continued. choso was a few years older than you, has been working in this industry for two years now and preferred coffee over tea. he disliked early mornings and liked to sleep in until noon. his most precious and valued object was a polaroid camera, he wanted to have photos commemorating important occasions or moments that were special to him. all these little details made you feel like he was less of an escort that you'd hired but more of a friend. much to your surprise, the conversation ran smoothly and there were no awkward, silent gaps. you supposed it was only natural; you felt comfortable with him so it was easy to talk. had it been any other guy who didn't understand you or your intentions so well, you probably would've closed up.

"do you want to take a stroll around the estate? i heard the gardens are really beautiful," you asked choso, a hopeful glint in your eyes. dinner was finished long ago, silence filled with light conversation and teasing from choso’s side. you weren’t sure where to go from this or how to suggest being… more intimate. choso had suggested you would go slow - but how slow was too slow? and if you were to go with the flow, when would be the right time?

“i would love to,” choso’s reply pulled you out of your thoughts, focusing your attention back to him. lost in your thoughts, you nodded and called a waitress over to pay the bill. you felt choso’s gaze on you, making you queasy. what did he think of you? or this entire ordeal? you wondered. as he stood up and moved behind you, you nearly jumped out of your skin when he placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the restaurant. the touch was unfamiliar, heavy and scalding even through your clothes, but not unwelcome. a strange feeling welled up in your chest, crawling its way up your throat, constricting it in such a way that it distracted you from coherent thoughts.

seeming to notice your conflict, choso stepped to the side, offering you his hand. you glanced at it, hesitating. “boyfriend experience, remember?” he grinned at you, patiently waiting until you took his hand. his hand was much bigger, almost entirely engulfing yours as you intertwined your fingers. gently swinging your arms back and forth with the flow, choso lead the way through the paths of the garden. having looked forward to it, you suddenly found yourself too distracted by him. the flowers and trees were beautiful and so were the statues but he was the one that caught your attention.

“my hands aren’t sweaty, are they?” you asked after a moment of silence, stopping to face choso. he laughed and shook his head, flicking your forehead gently.

“stop worrying about things too much, you’ll be fine. you don’t see me complaining, do you?”

“i mean that’s true… but i can’t help it! there’s just a lot to uh, think about…” your voice trailed off, you let his hand go to cover your face in embarrassment. choso inched closer to you, grasping your hands to pry them off your face. remaining stubborn, you pulled them back in, a giggle breaking from your lips when he tried again, playfully pinching your cheeks.

“want me to take your mind off said things?” he asked with a low voice, inching in further until your back hit a tree trunk behind you. he was so close, too too close. weakly, you pushed at his chest, trying to get him to back off. the sudden closeness that threw you off - your heart was racing at a million miles an hour, the endless possibilities dancing around your head. “how so?” your voice came out quiet and breathless, as if you were anticipating anything, something… his touch perhaps?

“do you feel comfortable with me?” without hesitating, you nodded in agreement. choso didn’t question you any further, simply gave you a knowing smile before diving in and pressing his lips against yours. instinctively, you stiffened, hands clenching around the fabric of choso’s shirt. breath caught up in your throat, you struggled to ease into it. you pulled away from him, squeezing your eyes shut in shame.

“i’m sorry that-”

“don’t apologize,” choso comforted you quickly, clasping your hands in his and intertwining them. thumbs gently rubbing the back of your hands, he lifted one of them to press a kiss against your knuckles. you blinked perplexed; your heart fluttered at the gesture. “don’t overthink it, there’s no science to it, yeah? just follow the flow, whatever feels good. we’ll go from there.”

giving you a moment to collect yourself, he leaned back in, silently waiting for permission. again, your breath hitched but this time, it wasn’t the nervousness. it was his eyes that drew you in, demanding all of your attention. dark, with unknown depths, that glimmered with mischief. ever so slightly, you tilted your head up to meet his lips. his warm lips pressed against yours, slowly testing the waters and letting you set the pace before deepening the kiss. now less hesitant, you kissed him back with more fervour, losing yourself in the feeling. it felt awkward and strange now that you let him guide you, leaving more space for you to ponder about the feeling that it evoked inside of you. you were glad he was holding your hands, otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. the kiss brought forth a pleasant, tingling feeling - the sort of feeling that pulled you in, lulling you in warmth.

when choso pulled away, you almost mewled in disappointment, chasing after him. he let out a breathy laugh, cupping your cheek. “how did that feel? was it okay?”

“y- yeah, i liked it. felt very strange at first but once i was able to ease into it, it was… more natural and felt really good,” you explained to him shyly, leaning into his hand. longingly, you gazed at him. would it be weird to ask for another kiss? you wanted explore the feelings more, the intimacy of it, wanted to feel more of him. as if sensing that you were craving more, choso leaned in again, stopping a few centimeters in front of your face. with a sudden surge of boldness, you closed the distance between you, leaning up to kiss him. choso's arm snaked around your waist, pressing you closer to his body. gradually your body felt hotter, a dull ache accompanying it, spreading across the expanse of your stomach.

before you could act on the urge, choso pulled away again, pressing an apologetic kiss to the corner of your lips. "sorry, i don't want to get too carried away and we're… uh in public," he laughed at your horrified expression upon realizing your mistake. "i take it that you're still comfortable with this? do let me know if it gets too overwhelming for you.”

“n- no, it’s fine! it was uh, an interesting insight. i just wasn’t expecting to really get into this, considering- considering i hired you for this and don’t really know you.”

choso hummed in agreement. “i guess there has to be at least a smidge of attraction for it to work, yeah?” you looked at him stunned, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. you couldn’t place it; couldn’t place the feeling of longing that was emerging in you. when he looked at you like that, it was difficult to remind yourself that he was just an escort that you hired for your personal problems. when he looked at you like that, it filled you with warmth, making you want to pretend that he really cared about you as if you were in a relationship.

“yeah… yeah, i guess so.”

nervously, you were twiddling with your phone, contemplating whether to text choso or not. after the last “date”, you felt confident enough in continuing your… relationship of sorts. he was great at guiding you, always making sure you were comfortable and moving at your pace. you did let him know that you would book another session, you just hadn’t set up a date or time yet. and casually texting him felt awkward. hey, how’s your day? oh by the way, i wanna book another session so we can make out haha? maybe calling was a better idea. there was no plan ahead, never did you think you would even get this far.

the dial tone made you nervous. you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for him to pick up, bouncing your leg up and down. maybe he was busy? it was early in the afternoon after all, he was probably already out with other clients. “hello? y/n?” choso sounded groggy, his voice raspy and deep as if he’d just gotten up. it sent electric shocks right down your spine, raising goosebumps across your skin. never had you thought about a man’s morning voice before, but choso had you wondering, imagining. you spluttered: “oh hey uh are you busy? i’m not interrupting you with something, am i?”

“not at all, i just got up,” choso admitted with a quiet chuckle. “everything okay? are you calling in for another appointment?”

“ah, yeah! i thought that we worked quite well and there’s still a few more things i want to learn with you, if you’re up for it? if you’re comfortable with it too, of course!”

“mhmm, i wouldn’t mind,” choso pondered from the other side. sounds of rustling and a few clangs resounded before you could clearly hear his voice again. you were glad that he agreed to it, meaning that you weren’t entirely… hopeless in that department. for days, his words were ghosting around in your head, a constant reminder that he seemed to find you attractive as well. not that he showed it, staying professional despite the nature of your relationship. it was nice to imagine that someone would look at you like that, at your shy and timid self.

choso was meticulous about his work, working on every detail and concern until he was satisfied. even though he looked so easy going, from time to time he had to admit that he was a perfectionist and easily frustrated when something didn't go the way he expected. so when you rolled around, so innocently asking for help, it threw him off. the feelings of confusion grew when he first met you, unable to pinpoint the origin of this urge, possessive and demanding, reaching its tendrils out to you. the way you reached out to him for help, the fact that you wanted to continue, wanted him to teach you. it thrilled him to the core when it really should not. he had to remain professional. but he was curious, so curious. indulging a little wouldn't hurt, right?

to choso's surprise, the next venue you'd chosen was the own comfort of your home. you were barely acquaintances, more like strangers, and yet you felt confident to invite him here. at the phone you had told him that your friends thought you had weird ideas about dates due to only seeing glorified versions of them on tv shows and movies. it embarrassed you enough to take their advice, inviting choso over for a movie night as opposed to visiting another fancy venue with him. prior to the date, you went through movie suggestions and rented the ones that you thought were interesting and enjoyable for the two of you. despite your put together attire and look, your apartment did not reflect the sentiment. it was a little chaotic; books and paper stacking up in every free corner of the apartment, pens strewn across surfaces and here and there choso could spot memorabilia and photos.

you gave choso an apologetic look when you let him in. despite your best efforts to clean up, you were still not happy with the outcome. tidying wasn't your strong suit but you tried to make it as accommodating as possible. choso assured you that he didn't mind at all, telling you that it added to the charm of the apartment. it was unusual to have someone other than your friends or family in the apartment - your home was your sacred space that you rarely ever showed anyone else, let alone someone you had hired. choso took a seat on the couch, turning to look at you as you went to grab some glasses and drinks.

"i uh, told my friends about my plans and they just told me i have weird expectations of dates," you explained choso, placing the items you'd grabbed on the coffee table and rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "they said it would probably just be better to have a simple movie night since a lot of people do that. and it would… make things a lot easier i- if we go fu- further…" the implication was hanging in the air, you didn't dare to speak them out. choso gave you a knowing smile, patting the empty space beside him. gingerly, you sat next to him, squeaking in surprise when he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side. with wide eyes, you stared at him, still trying to wrap your head around the casual close proximity with the taller male.

wordlessly, you started a random movie, trying to focus on it. throughout the duration of it, choso would ask you questions about your day, how uni was going or whether you felt comfortable. you couldn't focus, not with him being so close. how you made it through the first movie you didn't know. you were hyper aware of choso's wandering hands, the ghost touches his fingers left, how he absentmindedly rubbed your legs that were resting on his lap. straining to keep your eyes on the screen, your neck already felt stiff from the tension.

"i can tell that you're distracted, you know?" choso hummed, hands squeezing your legs gently to catch your attention. pretending to not be affected by it, you shook your head. you didn't want to show him that you wanted to proceed, not yet.

"i'm trying to concentrate," you shushed him quietly, playfully pushing at his arm but still not looking over to him. silence. you assumed you'd convinced him that there was nothing wrong until you felt his hands innocently move a little higher, rubbing the top of your thighs. clenching your fists, you stayed put, unwavering in your resolve. choso's hands wandered, alternating between featherlight touches to using more pressure. he kept his eyes on you, gauging your reactions to him. you brought your hand up to cover half of your face. it was embarrassing, the way your breath came out laboured in response. without warning, arms were hooked under your knees, dragging you across the couch and seated you on his lap. you made a noise in protest, now finally paying attention to him. choso wasn’t sure why but it had bothered him that you were so adamant on keeping your attention on the movie as opposed to keeping your eyes on him.

choso wasn’t sure why but he craved your attention, wanted you to look at him only. his resolve crumbled when you looked at him with wide eyes, grasping the sleeves of his shirt to steady yourself. he couldn’t help but kiss you, swallowing your surprised mewl before you returned the kiss. pleased at your eagerness, he gradually deepened the kiss, licking at the seams of your lips. you gasp in surprise and parted your lips slightly, whimpering in anticipation. it felt unfamiliar and yet thrilling at the same time, fueling and flaring up the dull ache in the pit of your stomach. before choso could go any further, you pulled away and hid your face in the crook of his neck. “what’s wrong? did i go too far?” he questioned concerned, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“no, no, not at all,” reassuring him quickly, you awkwardly turned in his lap, legs still thrown over it. “i uh just wanted to try to take initiative myself, figure things out without getting hints from you… if that’s okay?”

a sigh of relief left choso’s lips. silently, he gave you his approval and leaned back, watching as you shuffled clumsily. finally, you straddled his lap and placed your hands on his chest. in the dim light, you couldn’t make out his face expression - choso was glad that you couldn’t, otherwise you would have been able to see how much it was affecting him, how he was slowly losing his composure and control around you. but this was about you, he was there to help you explore this type of intimacy. releasing another shaky breath, you then leaned in and softly kissed him. you kept a languid tempo, slowly and surely cracking his restraint. trying to mirror what he’d done earlier, you pushed further, timidly licking into his mouth as he parted his lips.

seemingly not being able to hold back anymore, choso pushed against you with equally as much fervour, gripping your chin and tilting your head ever so slightly. his lips moved against yours, sucking your bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from you. again the ache in the pit of your stomach was flaring up, uncomfortable and yearning for relief; you moved against his lap, pressing your body against his when your crotch dragged against the bulge in his jeans. choso groaned, hands flying to grasp your hips and steady you.

dazed, you gave him a confused look. choso cleared his throat, lifting his hips ever so slightly so you could feel his arousal again. when the realization hit you, your face heated up - you were surprised to find out that he felt aroused… by you.

“oh.”

“yeah.” choso retorted dryly, hands rubbing at his face in embarrassment. “fuck, i’m so sorry. it wasn’t meant to get out of hand like this, i don’t know how far you planned ahead for today but i-”

“uhm if you don’t mind…” you hesitated. but curiosity simply got the better of you, you wanted to see him breathless and feel as hot and bothered as you did. “could i uhm. you know? give you a handjob? only if you don’t mind because i want to know how to please uhm, please people.”

choso swore under his breath. you had no idea how painfully hard you were making him. quietly encouraging you, he leaned in to kiss you again and guided your hands to his jeans. you fumbled with the button and zipper, hands trembling slightly. it took you a few tries until you were finally able to unzip his pants, a giggle left your lips at the thought of how clumsy you were. your hands gently rubbed at the tent in his boxers, breath hitching as choso’s hips jerked. gaining some courage, you slightly put on more pressure and watched fascinated when choso’s fingers digged into the fleshy skin of your hips in anticipation. slowly, you pulled the waistband of his boxers down until it revealed his cock. choso hissed at the cold air that was biting at his skin.

carefully, you wrapped your hand around the shaft, marvelling at how the skin felt on your hands. sensing your cluelessness, choso wrapped his larger hand around yours and guided you into a slow rhythm to get you used to the movement. sucking in a deep breath between his teeth, he praised you: “you’re doing good, y/n. fuck, you’re being such a good girl.”

your heart soared at the praise. eagerly, you leaned up to kiss him, still stroking him in slow movements. choso moaned against your lips, the deep sound spurring you on, eager to hear more of his reactions. when you finally felt more comfortable continuing on your own, choso pulled his hands away and instead settled them on the small of your back, sliding them down until they were resting on your bum. you wrapped your other hand around him as well and paid attention to his reactions, adjusting the pressure and pace accordingly. choso buried his face in the crook of your neck, whispering sweet praises in between his moans. eventually your name left his lips; it set your entire body in flames, desperate want clinging onto your bones.

“fuck, i’m close,” he groans against the skin of your neck, hips rutting up to meet your movements more frantically now. you weren’t entirely sure what to do, opting to simply match the pace. shudders wrecked through choso’s body as he came, warm cum painting your small hands and running down your fingers. he was panting, leaning back against the couch and watching you with hooded eyes. the sight in front of you stirred something inside of you - choso’s flushed face, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin, his kiss-bitten lips. with curiosity, you inspected the liquid on your hand. lazily, choso grasped your wrist, holding them away from you. “‘m sorry. do you have a tissue?”

you tilted your head, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater with your other hand. “uh i- i’ve heard from others… um. can i try?” you asked quietly. choso’s grip on your wrist weakened; he gave you an incredulous look, as if you few two heads. out of all things, he didn’t expect you to suggest that. fuck, he felt the blood rushing right back down to his cock. just the thought of you, doing that - it was enough to make him cum again. “go ahead, if you feel like it,” choso whispered in a low voice. dark urges overcame him again, begging him to give in, to make you bend to his will, to submit, to-

his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he saw you unashamedly pop a finger in your mouth, licking the come from it. there wasn’t any reaction from you really, you gave him a sheepish smile afterwards and gratefully took the tissue he offered you. he helped you wipe your hands, diving in for another kiss. “sorry, i think i just short circuited,” choso laughed embarrassedly, another kiss was pressed to your temple. “that was just… uh- fuck.”

“r- really?” you stammered, hiding your face in your hands. “it’s okay if it wasn’t that great for you, it was my first time after all, i-”

choso hushed you, going for another open mouthed kiss, eliciting a whimper from you. “yeah, really. fuck, the things i want to do to you,” he shook his head, not wanting to get sidetracked again. “but this is about you. we’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable. did you feel like you learned enough for today?”

“mh- hmm. thank you,” you leaned your head against his chest, closing your eyes as a sudden tiredness washed over you. choso’s fingers dancing across your skin were slowly lulling you into a comfortable slumber. “what is it that you want to do to me? will you show me one day?”

choso cursed, shivers running down his spine.

“if you want to, of course.”

-----------

now that you’d met choso a couple of times, it was pretty obvious that you took some liking to him. after that fateful day, nothing else had happened as you wanted to work on easing into relationship dynamics and feeling less insecure about things - choso had been nothing but sweet and mindful about it, even went out of his way to find suitable locations for your dates. somewhere along the way you had started to text more casually, the strictly business type texting long forgotten. gradually, the two of you opened up to each other, the lines between escort and client slowly blurring and intertwining.

choso had promised to pick you up after your shift at the animal shelter for your next date; for today he had suggested you come over to his place for a change. the thought that he was willing to let you in his home, let you have a glimpse into his personal life, it made you giddy with anticipation. despite getting closer to each other, he remained a mysterious person and you didn't want to pry. after all, you were merely his client. but what if you were more- patting your cheeks to put some sense back into you, you leaned down to pet the dogs. unbeknownst to you, choso had already entered the building and watched you with a soft smile as you gave each of the dogs their deserved belly rubs before you left.

you didn't take any notice of him until some of the dogs perked up and carefully trudged over to sniff at the stranger. turning around on your heels, your eyes widened as you took in choso's tall figure. you quickly apologized, telling him that you would be joining him right away to which he simply shook his head and reassured you that you were fine. your co-workers were eyeing choso curiously, one of them wiggling their eyebrows at you. in response, you waved it off, too embarrassed to set the record straight. choso looked so awfully much like a boyfriend in this moment - the way he was dressed in casual clothes that accentuated his physical features so well, the soft smile he gave you as he offered you his hand to take, the way he sounded genuinely interested and curious when he asked you about your day.

silently, you took his hand and followed him out of the building - you could feel your co-workers’ inquisitive gazes like laser beams on your back. while they were never particularly nosy about your personal life, it was unusual that someone would pick you up from work; much less someone that you seemed to be romantically interested in. surely, they would grill you the next time you would return to work. “they think you’re my boyfriend,” you explained to choso sheepishly, glancing down at your intertwined hands. choso squeezed your hand and nudged your side gently. “am i not?” he winked at you cheekily, making your face heat up. he had asked in such a serious voice that you’d briefly questioned yourself.

“n- no, not really,” you replied quietly, looking away from him. choso reached around you to open the car door for you. in the window reflection you could see his face expression; it was rather somber, almost as if your words had hurt him in a way. the emotion was gone from his face when you blinked. maybe you had just imagined it. getting close to him on that level was unattainable, no matter how you twisted it. it just wasn't right.

the car ride was mostly quiet, only the sound of choso's car playlist accompanying you. somewhere along the way he had reached out to intertwine your fingers, resting his hand on your thigh. holding hands was almost natural to you now, the way his hands automatically sought out yours whenever possible. in response, your heart was racing, filling with the all too familiar feeling of yearning. whether you were simply yearning for the intimacy and closeness of a relationship or for him, you weren't entirely sure. while choso had told you about himself for the sake of the fake dating, there were still unknown facettes. it was impossible for you to get to know all of him, not when he was selling a fantasy to you. and yet, you found yourself craving more of him, beyond what he was willing to show you.

choso parked his car in the garage, turning his body sideways so he could look at you. "you okay? you look like you were quite lost in thoughts," he hummed curiously, rubbing circles on the back of your hand. what could you possibly answer to that? hey i'm questioning our fake relationship and it's going beyond what i expected? abruptly, choso hoisted you across the seat onto his lap as if you'd weighed nothing. "a penny for your thoughts? or should i take your mind off things?"

"i- i think i would… rather not talk about it," you whispered quietly, gaze skirting away from his eyes. choso frowned, slightly irritated - he had a small inkling why he reacted this way but banned the thought to the back of his head. he understood that as a client, you wouldn't disclose details of your private life to him. but he found it difficult to circumvent your dropping mood when he couldn't tell what was going on.

"i understand," choso was about to open the door when you suddenly cupped his chin and dove in for a kiss. he was caught off guard - rarely did you ever initiate kisses, usually shyly asking beforehand. feeling bold, you pressed you pressed your hips down, grinding against his crotch. choso groaned, gripping your hips to guide you while thrusting his hips up to meet yours. he enjoyed how you shuddered at the newfound pleasure, the delicious friction making your toes curl. "does baby want me to take her mind off things?" he murmured with a raspy voice, peppering kisses across your jaw.

"please," you mewled needily, hands grabbing onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. choso complied, sliding his hand up to tangle in your hair and gently pulled at it, tilting your head back. you were panting by the time he was moving down the column of your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. lower and lower, until he reached the top of your breasts; with swift movements, he yanked your shirt and bra upso , pressing open mouthed kisses to them before wrapping his lips around your nipple. your voice cracked as you moaned his name, hands flying up to bury your hands in his hair. distracted by the ministrations, you didn’t notice choso’s free hand sliding down your front until you feel the coldness of his hands on your skin. you squirmed, giggling at the cool sensation - the giggle died abruptly when he dove lower, fingers rubbing your clothed pussy languidly.

“c- choso! we’re still in the g- garage, people can see!” you stuttered scandalized, tugging at the tips of his hair to grab his attention. choso simply hummed, carrying on as if you hadn’t just told him your concerns. rubbing circles on your clit, he watched with satisfaction how your legs were trembling, writhing in pleasure. just the sight of you - hickeys on your neck, slightly swollen lips, shirt pushed up to reveal your tits, his hands down your pants - it was so arousing and thrilling, he almost didn’t want to stop.

“the windows are tinted and no one’s around at this time… do you really want me to stop?” he murmured with a low voice, fingers pushing your panties to the side to gather the slick up on his fingers. “look at you, how much you’re craving it. the want is written all over your face, baby. do you want to stop now?”

before you know it, choso’s hand is suddenly hovering over your face, fingers glimmering with your arousal. you shot him a dazed look, confusion evident on your face. “open,” he instructed softly, slowly and carefully sliding his fingers in your mouth. almost instinctively, your hands gingerly grasped his wrist. your lips wrapped around them, tasting the liquid curiously. his breath hitched, blood shooting down his groin - fuck, you were going to kill him. tentatively, he thrusted his fingers, slow enough so he could gauge your reaction to it. you didn’t know what it was - the taste of yourself, the weight of his fingers on your tongue, the way he was looking at you with hooded eyes and a hungry expression on his face; it made you squirm, eagerly for more. choso immediately took notice of your sudden mood shift. barely noticeable, your hips were rocking back and forth as you sucked on his fingers, cleaning them of your slick.

with a pop, choso removed his fingers. you whimpered his name, gasping in relief when he slid them back down, moving your panties to the side. his thumb found your clit, rubbing the little nub gently in slow circles. as if he was in no hurry and unbothered by the prospect that someone could actually spot you, he continued his ministrations. your legs jerked, threatening to close when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. excruciatingly slow, he sunk a finger into you. the feeling was unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable at first. seizing up, you clenched around the finger. “relax, ease into it,” choso whispered reassuringly, capturing your lips in a kiss. “it’ll feel good, i promise.”

choso inserted a second finger, letting you get used to the feeling of them. the kisses he was peppering on your chest were distracting you from the burning stretch, creating a confusing mix between pain and pleasure. “how are you feeling?”

“f- feels good, i- i-” you were struggling to form coherent sentences, too focused on how he was lapping at your nipples, sucking and kissing them gently. “y- you can continue…”

steadily, choso started to thrust his fingers into you - gradually, the burn was disappearing and replaced by a delicious stretch, pleasure that was spreading throughout your body and setting your nerves on fire. desperately clinging onto his shirt, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. choso placed a kiss on the crown of your head, whispering sweet praises and telling you what a good girl you were. it felt good, so good but something was missing, you needed something, maybe more. you started begging and despite blabbering nonsensical things, choso understood what you were asking of him. his fingers hit a peculiar spot inside of you when he curled them, making you jerk in surprise. “o- oh!” again and again, choso was hitting the spot, making you writhe on his lap.

something was building up in the pit of your stomach, like a tightened coil that was about to snap at any time. panicking slightly, you grabbed choso’s hand and tried to close your legs, wiggling away from him: “h- hey wait, i-” another moan broke from your lips when choso sealed your lips with his and wrapped his arm around your waist, locking you in place. “it’s okay, let go, baby. cum for me,” he whispered against your lips, sinking his fingers in you one last time. and then the coil snapped, the high crashing over you like a riptide, so blinding and intense that it took you a while to come down from it. your thighs were still trembling by the time you came back to your senses, ripples of pleasure still cursing through you.

you slump against choso's chest, exhausted from the intensity of your orgasm but feeling wonderfully blissed out. choso removed his hand from you, licking your arousal from his fingers before wiping them off on a paper towel. he brushed his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "how are you feeling? can you move?"

"my legs feel like jelly," your voice came out muffled, face still pressed into his chest. "'m feeling good though. that was… really nice."

"i'll carry you upstairs," choso declared matter-of-factly, hoisting you up so he could carry you. you slung your arms around his neck, pecking the side of his neck. his scent was faint but calming, lulling you into a sense of home and comfort. you wanted to stay close to him like this, just having him hold you in his arms. a myriad of emotions welled up in you, swallowing all your doubts until all that was left was the budding blossoms of your feelings for him, nurtured by his soft touches and adoring treatment. you wanted to cherish him, keep him close for as long as you could, as long as you could still have him.

"thank you."

"for what?" choso sounded surprised.

"taking care of me? i mean i pay you for it but i still wanted to let you know that i appreciate it."

“everything for you, baby,” choso replied softly, tightening his grip around you. as you got to his apartment, choso placed you on the couch and knelt down, hands wrapping around yours. “do you want to get changed? i’ll lend you some of my clothes, you can get changed in my room or in the bathroom if you want to freshen up.”

he was so so considerate, you couldn’t believe someone as nice as him existed out there. as you agreed, choso disappeared in his room; the sound of opening doors and drawers as well as rustling resounded from his room. you took the opportunity to observe his home. it was a small but cozy apartment, despite being sparsely decorated. in the back of the living room, you could spot some bags and boxes, presumably choso’s surfing equipment, as well as posters and photos cluttered on a pinboard. here and there, some little figurines and trinkets were spread across the apartment. although it was cozy, the apartment lacked some kind of presence, some warmth. you assumed that it had to do with choso’s job - he probably was rarely home between work and spending time with friends and family.

“here you go,” choso handed you a big sweatshirt and some shorts as he came back, patting your head teasingly. “go and get changed, i’ll start preparing dinner, yeah?”

you hid in the bathroom and got changed, neatly folding your clothes and stacking them on the counter. inspecting yourself in the mirror, you admired the size of choso’s sweater - it was a simple and cream coloured sweater that was entirely dwarfing and engulfing you. the sleeves were way too long and the hem almost reached your knees. but it was soft and comfy, coming close to choso’s hugs. you pulled the shorts up your legs, awkwardly securing them by tucking them underneath the sweater. choso had set up some boiling water and was silently chopping vegetables by the time you left the bathroom and tip toed towards the kitchen. “can i help you with anything?”

“no it’s okay, take a seat. do you want anything to drink? water? tea?” reluctantly, you sat at the small table on the side, pouting at him. choso simply laughed and shook his head, bringing a glass of water over. your heart jumped in surprise when he kissed your forehead as he placed the glass on the table. “i’ll take care of you for today. boyfriend duties, remember? the past times you’ve always taken us out on restaurants and incredible locations and now it’s my turn to show you the boyfriend magic.”

sudden dread filled your stomach. how could choso be so warm and kind-hearted to you, when you weren’t even in a relationship? you keep having to remind yourself that this was what he was doing for a living, that you might possibly never know the real him. that this might just be a mask that he kept on for the sake of your requests. you didn’t reply, deep in your thoughts as you stared at the glass of water. choso returned back to his previous task, cooking dinner in silence. your chest felt heavy with uncertainty and disappointment - you tried your best to push the emotions down. they were irrational, you knew full well what you were getting yourself into when you asked for his service.

thankfully, choso didn’t seem to have picked up on your sullen mood, even throughout dinner - you let no emotions shine through when you conversed with him, choosing to keep it lighthearted. you offered to wash the dishes, not wanting him to lift another finger when you could help him in return. as you scrubbed the bowls, choso creeped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder. “you wanna watch a movie? or go to bed already? you’ve had a long day at work after all.”

“hmm, yeah. i think i’d prefer going to bed, if that’s okay for you?”

“i could never say no to cuddles,” choso hummed, capturing your lips in another kiss. you whimpered against them, not being able to resist him. he moaned against your lips, grip on you tightening. “please don’t tempt me, it’s so hard to say no to you,” he warned you with a strained voice.

your face grew warm at the memories of a few hours ago. you couldn’t believe you let him do that, let him finger you in his car in the garage. no one had seen you and you were thankful for that but you wanted the ground to swallow you whole at the thought of someone possibly snitching on you. your father would lose his mind. “is- is it not what you want?”

“of course i do, but not today. baby steps, remember? we have all the time in the world. and i can assure you that i very much want you,” with one last peck on your lips, he removed himself from you and disappeared in his room. he wanted you. your heart was soaring at his confession. you were relieved to know that he was craving you as much as you were yearning for him. maybe you would indulge, just for a couple more times until you would inevitably have to cut off the relationship. you felt at peace with your decision, you told yourself. nothing good would come from false hope.

after washing up, you joined choso on the bed, shyly crawling towards him as he opened his arms and welcomed you. he pulled you into his chest, nearly crushing you with his weight. it made you giggle and squirm in his arms, trying to wiggle out of his hold. choso was having none of it, peppering kisses all over your face as he trapped you in place. gasping for air in between your carefree laughter, you weakly pushed at his head, squealing when he dove in to blow raspberries on your neck. he showed mercy and let up, instead curiously inspecting your neck as he pulled the neckline of your, no his, sweater down. something dark was glinting in his eyes as his eyes zoomed in on the hickeys he had left on your neck and chest - he felt strangely satisfied, pleased with his work of art. a sliver of possessiveness overcame him as he traced the trail of red marks on your neck, humming quietly.

“something wrong with my neck?” you questioned confused, not having spotted the hickeys yet. choso shook his head, simply laid back on his side again to look at you. “not at all. was just inspecting the hickeys i left on you.”

“you left marks?” you gaped at him, mildly shocked at the revelation. though he was preoccupied with your neck earlier, you didn’t expect him to actually leave so many marks, much less ones that were visible. “is… is that a common occurrence?”

“for couples? i think so. but i can’t speak for everyone; if it was me, i would do it frequently. stake my claim on you, let everyone know that you’re mine,” choso replied and casually draped the blanket over the two of you, as if he didn’t just admit to doing something he would normally do with a lover. did he think of you as his? you struggled to decipher his actions, not being able to match it with a specific reason.

“that’s uh-” your stuttering was interrupted by another horrifying thought. “oh god, i can’t let my parents see this, they will kill me.”

choso shot you a confused look. you hadn’t told him about your parents yet or how you were hiding this from them.

“my parents… especially my dad, are very cautious about letting me venture out in romantic relationships. it’s mostly because he didn’t feel like anyone was good enough for me and because he didn’t want me to get hurt. sometimes i felt like those princesses locked up in a tower, you know? so i decided to explore and uh, hired you. i didn’t want to burden my friends with having to help me gain some experience,” you explained to choso, eyes widening when he suddenly grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to it. he winked at you cheekily before leaning over you to turn off the lights. you felt him press a gentle kiss to your lips but you couldn’t make out his face expression in the dark. choso preferred it like this, so you couldn’t tell the vulnerable look on his face, the ache of knowing that he could never fully be yours.

“then i’m glad i get to serve a princess such as you.”

----------

“you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with choso,” nobara commented as she took a sip from her coffee, reaching out to grab one of the muffins you had ordered. you looked away in embarrassment. it’s been nearly two months since you’ve started to meet up with choso. your dates became more frequent, even the casual texting continued. and yet you hadn’t really told your friends about your progress or how you felt about him, either brushing it off or giving them vague details. it was only natural that nobara and maki grew suspicious, vowing to grill you about it the next time you would meet up. “have you done the deed?”

“n- no! not yet,” you answered hastily, the topic still making you feel bashful. though you had talked to choso about it; he had agreed and hinted that you might go all the way the next time you would meet up. it was weird, scheduling something like this. but you felt more at ease knowing that it was approaching and you could somewhat prepare your nerves for it. “we talked about it though… next time, maybe?”

“i see,” maki nodded slowly, deep in thought. “you’ve been skirting around this escort thing a lot. is there something you’re hiding from us?”

“nope! not at all!”

“y/n… we’re looking out for you as friends. i know you told us that you trust choso and that he’s the nicest person you have ever but is there something more?” maki gave you a gentle nudge. the serious look in her eyes told you that you better not give her a lame excuse. even nobara, who was usually playful in nature, looked mildly concerned. as much concern as she could muster up anyways. sheepishly, you stared at your mug, watching the milk swirl with your hot chocolate. surely, they would tell you to stop seeing him, to stay away. because catching feelings for someone whose true feelings and self you could never uncover… should have been something you could have prevented. if only it hadn’t been so easy to give in, so easy to develop feelings for choso.

“uhm. i just realized that i like him, like a lot. i know i shouldn’t and should have circumvented the issue somehow but now i’m stuck with my feelings. and it’s just confusing. before you get mad at me, i’ve already decided to cut it off after our next date. i can’t dwell on it for too long because realistically, nothing is going to happen.”

wordlessly, nobara gave you a hug, patting your back to soothe you. “is he really that great though?” maki lightly swatted nobara’s arm and gave her an eyeroll. her comment made you laugh, she knew how to lighten up a situation.

“i think so. very gentleman-like and just takes good care of everything. i really appreciate how well he’s been taking care of me this entire time. he just is the perfect boyfriend, you know?” nobara nodded but you could tell from her face that she was trying to put the puzzle pieces together. it made you laugh again, pinching her cheek playfully. you didn’t want to worry your friends too much. they always helped you in every situation and now it was time you would take care of everything yourself.

“i can’t believe this entire time we were trying to find you a perfect partner and you’ve gone and went the whole nine yards, boyfriend experience and heartbreak all together,” maki joked and ruffled your hair, giving you a reassuring smile. “you know we’re there for you if you need emotional support in this, right? we might not be much of a help while you go through the fake breakup but we can help you take your mind off afterwards.”

you sniffled a little at the thought. your next date was fast approaching and you were grateful to have such great friends, who would always look out for you and be understanding even if you made dumb mistakes. your next step would be to learn how to mend a broken heart.

everything had to be perfect. the entire evening you had been on the move, busy cleaning your apartment and room and spending time in the bathroom making yourself look presentable. you still felt nervous exposing all of you to choso, never had anyone seen you naked before. the thought of it had made you so anxious that you’d called nobara who promptly suggested you wear cute underwear and something comfy to ease yourself into it. chances were that choso didn’t really care and wouldn’t judge you anyways; he had always been generous with compliments, always telling you how pretty you looked, how cute you were, and what a good girl you were for him. you didn’t think you could feel so fired up from praises nor did you think that you would be craving to hear them so much until choso came along. the feeling of euphoria that overtook you whenever he praised you, along with the pleasure he gave you whenever you were fooling around - it was a deadly combination.

knocks at the door made you perk up, hastily racing over to the door to let choso in. he chuckled when you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. “hey baby, missed me much, huh? i missed you too,” choso admitted, softly combing his fingers through your hair. you peeked up at him from below, closing your eyes as you leaned into his touch like a cat. “mhmm, missed you a lot,” you mumbled, humming in content as choso pecked your lips briefly before waddling inside the apartment with you in his arms, closing the door behind him

“what am i going to do with you?” he mumbled amused and sat down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap. he squished your cheeks between his hands, kissing your pouty lips with a broad smile. “you always make it so hard for me to leave.”

your heart sunk at his last words, remembering how you were planning to proceed by the end of this date. surely, it couldn’t be so hard and he wouldn’t think much of it since it was all business anyways. and yet, you couldn’t help but seize up with dread, not wanting to hurt him. if, and only if he would actually be affected by it. you placed your hands on his, sticking your tongue out at him. you teased him: “you leave but you always return, right? doesn’t that give you something to look forward to?”

“yeah, always come bouncing back…” choso trailed off, a faraway look on his face. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking - each emotion that surfaced was only fleeting and quickly wiped from his face expression as if it never existed in the first place. perhaps he was keeping his heart as guarded as yours, for baring the most vulnerable parts of yourself could be your downfall. he ran his hands along your thighs, rubbing the bare skin gently, fingers teasingly slipping under the hem of your shorts. your breath hitched in your throat, expecting him to move his hands up further. but by now, choso knew how to play you like a fiddle, what drew beautiful moans out of you, what made you whimper in anticipation and how to build up tension. he knew how to tease you and use it to his advantage; knew well that you would follow his instructions like the good girl that you were, never disappointing him. “gotta take care of my princess, hm?”

choso dipped down, brushing the strands of your hair out of the way, showering it in kisses. you mewled quietly, tilting your head to the side to allow him more access to your neck. he was still murmuring between kisses, telling you how sweet you were, how he was going to make you sing his name, how he was going to take care of you. the whispered praises were getting to your head, you easily melted into his touch. “c- choso,” you gasped, already drowning in him as his presence clouded your senses, wrapping around you as if nothing else but him existed. “please touch me.”

“your wish is my command,” choso lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, carrying you to your bedroom with ease. gently, he dropped you on the bed, simply hovering over you without saying a word. the look in his eyes knocked the air out of your lungs; you loved his eyes, his dark brown eyes that were filled with so much warmth and love, now darkened and filled with lust. he observed you, waiting for you to make a move - you stayed still, tense with anticipation. with every single intimate encounter you had with him, you gradually learned that choso enjoyed being in control, overjoyed when you were obedient and remembered what he had told you. he liked having you at his mercy, being the first and only one to discover the expanse of your body, to pleasure you in ways you were yet to familiarize yourself with.

choso’s tapped your lips, carefully sliding two fingers in when you willingly parted your lips and sucked on them. the weight of his fingers on your tongue, the dazed look on his eyes as he watched you - it was all so erotic, so arousing. you lifted your hips, grinding against his thighs for some kind of relief. it drew a slightly irritated click of the tongue from choso, gently pressing his fingers against your tongue. but he enjoyed the view, seeing how you wanted him so much, how you were seeking relief by humping his thigh. you could already feel yourself soaking through your panties and your thin shorts, arousal smearing across choso’s thigh and leaving a wet spot on his jeans.

pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he slid them down, lower and lower, smearing your spit across your skin. his fingers stopped right at the buttons of your blouse, playfully rolling them between his fingers. slowly, he unbuttoned the blouse, pushing the fabric off your shoulders to reveal your bra. you squirmed, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed about being so exposed in front of him. “you’re beautiful,” choso reminded you. “don’t hide from me. i want to see all of you.”

reluctantly, you kept your arms at your sides, instead clenching your fingers around the fabric of your comforter. teasingly, his hands dragged across the tops of your breasts before dipping lower. “look at you, how soaked you are already. you’ve even left a spot on my jeans. i haven’t even touched you properly yet… has my princess missed me this much?” he mused, gently rubbing circles across your skin. he was careful not to move anywhere close to your crotch, resolutely keeping his hand near your navel.

“yes, please touch me,” you mewled, grasping his hand to guide him towards the hem of your shorts. his hand splayed across your mound, rubbing in deliberately slow movements, making you sigh in relief. choso tugged on your shorts, dragging them down your legs with ease. you clenched your eyes shut, hiding your face behind your hands. choso stayed silent for a few seconds and simply admired you in the dim light of your room. he could tell that you'd chosen a nice set of underwear to impress him - you looked so cute in it, like a present waiting to be unwrapped. he took notice of the dark patch on the crotch of your panties, how they were clinging onto your skin and how your arousal was glistening on your inner thighs.

"you look breathtaking," choso complimented you, gently removing your hands from your face. "i told you not to hide, didn't i? give me all of you, baby."

you blinked a few times, sheepishly thanking him. his praises overwhelmed you, making your chest swell with pride. but still, you didn't know how to react when he was singing your praises, too bashful to reply coherently. choso removed your panties in painstakingly slow movements, leaving trails of kisses on your inner thighs up to your ankle. throwing your panties to the floor, he then pulled your legs over his shoulders. you watched him bewildered, not sure what to make of it. the position made you feel oddly exposed; all of your senses were heightened, strained to focus on choso only. the oversensitivity caused your hips to jerk when choso’s breath hit your pussy, keen on receiving attention. the swipe of his tongue on your slit was something you didn’t expect - the sensation was new, uncharted territory, so different from his fingers. it drew a whimper from your lips, making your toes curl against his back.

languidly, he was lapping at your folds, taking his time to get you used to the feeling. it wasn’t until his tongue dragged across your clit, lips wrapping around it to suck gently, that whines and whimpers spilled forth from your lips. your hips automatically lurched forward, rocking against his face. you couldn’t wrap your head around the pleasure it provided you, how it rendered you into a babbling mess with only his name on your lips like some mantra. needing to busy your hands otherwise, you clenched your fingers around his hair, subconsciously pressing his face into your pussy. choso groaned against you, the slight burn turning him on beyond relief. you felt like you’re floating, higher and higher, rapidly approaching your high and it was still a feeling you’re trying to get used to, a feeling that you readily welcomed and craved.

it was a combination of all the touches that bring you closer to the edge; how he was sucking at your clit before flattening his tongue against your clit, paying close attention to it, how it was repeatedly and rapidly dragging across your folds. it made you sob, begging him to make you cum. choso pulled you even closer, fingers digging into your thighs as he lapped at your swollen clit, again and again until you come with a loud moan, barch arching from the bed, heels digging into choso’s shoulder blades. clenching your eyes shut, you attempted to push his face away from you, now feeling too sensitive. your legs were trembling uncontrollably, you gasped for air as your high washes over you and slowly ebbing away. choso sat up on his knees and only then you see the arousal smeared across his chin and lips. the sight sent electric shocks up your spine, breath hitching in your throat. he looked so fucking hot like this. he gave you no time to be embarrassed about it, wiping the slick off his skin and licking it off his hands.

“c- choso, what-” you croaked, voice all raspy from your relentless moaning. choso didn’t reply, instead kissed you open mouthed - the taste of your arousal was still present on his tongue. in the back of your mind, you thought about how dirty it was and yet so thrilling, eliciting a hunger for him. desperately, you were tugging at his shirt, trying to get it off. you were struggling, huffing in frustration as he didn’t budge. choso laughed, pecking your lips apologetically before taking it off along with his pants. even in the dim light you could make out the bulge in his pants, a testament of much he wanted you. the sight made you salivate, your pussy clenching around nothing. he took notice of your dazed look, grabbing your chin to tilt it up. “are you sure you want this? do you want me?”

you nodded quickly, eyes widening at his question. “of course, i want you, never wanted anything more. please, choso.”

“you have me, all of me,” he retorted, a tender look in his eyes. again, your heart clenched. just one more time you would get to see him like this, pretend he really was your lover. but when he looked at you with so much adoration in his eyes, it was hard to believe that there wasn’t a spark between you. unbeknownst to you, choso had always looked at you with stars in his eyes, hoping that you would return the sentiment. no matter how hard he was keeping his feelings at bay, the cracks were widening, allowing more and more feelings to seep through. with each touch, each word that you exchanged, the dam was weakening and threatening to spill everything that he was keeping inside.

choso gently pressed you back down onto the mattress, fingers fumbling with the condom that he’d pulled out of his jeans. you watched with fascination as he put it on, not being able to take your gaze of it. he grinned, deciding to indulge you, pressing his cock against you. arousal was still leaking from you, allowing him to easily slide against you. deliberately, he nudged the head against your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore. you wiggled your hips, signaling him to do something, do put you out of your misery. choso glanced at you for permission, suddenly seeming to be nervous himself. you gave him a small nod, leaning up to cradle his cheeks and kiss him. choso began to push, slowly slipping past your folds and- the stretching burn, it was there again and made you tense up.

choso grasped your hands, intertwining them and showered your face with kisses, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement. the feeling was familiar and yet strange at the same time, the girth of his fingers were nothing compared to his cock. it was a tight fit; you were aware of him, so aware of him. muffled, you heard choso telling you to relax, that he didn’t want to hurt you, to take your time. he was still pushing, distracting you from the uncomfortable pain with kisses. with one last thrust, he’s pushed the entirety of him in you. faintly, you could feel pain gradually ebbing away. the fullness of him, the throbbing; you clenched around him, a quiet moan leaving your lips as choso’s hips jerk in response.

“you okay? can i move now?” he whispered against your lips. you nodded, feeling choso smile against your lips. your breath hitched in anticipation as he pulls out ever so slightly before thrusting back in. you let out a whimper at the sudden thrum of incoming pleasure, hands squeezing his. choso thrusted his length in and out of you slowly, still wanting you to get used to it. the drag of it against your walls, the way his cock ever so slightly bumped against that spot inside of you that made your body sing - you sobbed out his name, hips tilting up to meet his movements. choso had no qualms obliging to your unspoken wants, upping the pace once he’s made sure you felt comfortable.

slowly, his inhibitions fell apart upon seeing you desperately cling onto him, moaning out his name as he pulled out and drove back in, deeper than before. you saw stars when he hit the spot inside of you, burying himself inside of you completely. it’s been a short amount of time but choso was quick to figure out what made you shake in pleasure in particular, memorizing every little nudge and wiggle that would have you gasp out his name. the closeness, the intimacy, it easily beat everything else that you’ve ever done before but it was now that you realized that no one could compare to choso. while your initial goal was to simply learn and gain some experience, somewhere along the way, you veered off the path. perhaps your goal was never to find out what it was like engaging in sexual activities but rather to experience it with someone you loved. it was then that you realized you didn’t care about these things unless you could experience them with choso.

while choso was no stranger to having people in his bed, the sight of you was one he would never be able to get out of his head again. how your moans and whimpers were getting more frequent with each thrust, how you were sobbing his name whenever he hit particularly deep inside of you, how your small hands were holding onto his, how you clenched around him whenever he praised you. he wanted to keep you for himself, to impale himself in you in such ways that you could never look at other people the same way anymore. “i- i’m close,” you hiccuped between sobs, back lurching from the bed. “choso, p- please, i wanna cum, i-”

“i’ve got you, princess,” he assured you, diving down to kiss you feverishly. relentlessly, his hips pistoned against yours, desperate to make you cum. choso couldn’t hold back any longer, he was close, so close. wanting to cum with you, he reached down to rub your clit. your reaction was almost instantaneous, legs pressing against his side as you came, his name on your lips like a prayer. he came with you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as groans left his lips, mixed with your name and curses. his hips stuttered as they pressed against you one last time, staying in place until he’s spilled all of him in the condom. you felt like you were floating, still dazed from the intensity of your orgasm. absentmindedly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hand absentmindedly playing with the hair at his nape. choso let out a noise, akin to a cat’s purr, nudging his head against your hand. his gesture made you giggle and you strained your neck to press a kiss against his forehead.

slowly, choso removed himself from you, letting out a breathy laugh as you protested. you made grabby hands at him but he simply tutted, disappearing in the bathroom to dispose of the condom and came back with a wet towel. it felt comforting, the warmth of the towel as well as his gentle touches, lulling you into a sleepy state. it didn’t take long for him to join you again once he was done, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest like the countless times he’s done so before. “how are you feeling? i didn’t hurt you, did i?”

you shook your head, trying to find the right words. in the end, nothing came into your mind to appropriately tell him how mind blowingly good he made you feel so you just settle with: “felt good, really good. didn’t hurt, jus’ felt uncomfortable at first. but you made it okay, it’s okay when it’s with you.”

“i see,” choso let out a relieved breath, laughing as you blinked at him stunned. you looked adorable, still floating and coming down from your high. “i’m glad i was your first, glad i could do it justice. just wanted you to feel good.”

“mhmm, thank you,” you slurred sleepily, arms wrapping around his waist. you felt so warm and loved, not wanting to let go of the feeling just yet. “can we do it again some other day? you promised to show me what you still wanted to do to me.”

“y/n, sweetheart, when will you be coming to visit us again? i know it’s your summer break right now and you’re busy but we thought it might be nice to go on a short family trip. what do you think?” your mother pleaded over the phone. you could see her pout on the screen, her attempt at guilt tripping you into visiting more. truthfully, you felt bad about not having been able to see your family so much - the amount of assignments and final exams was swamping you and you just wanted to get through them before going on vacation. that and the fact that you couldn’t properly look them in the eyes anymore ever since being with choso.

you just couldn’t let go of him, nor could you admit your feelings to him, in fear it would make him uncomfortable. it was irrational, reckless even, to keep paying for a service you technically didn’t need anymore. simply to keep a person you had feelings for around for longer. nobara and maki didn’t know about this either, you knew they would have your head as soon as you confessed. it was irrational and you knew it. and yet it was so hard to let go. with every waking moment, you craved choso, his tenderness and loving gaze, the warmth of his arms, the domesticity that the two of you shared, how natural it seemed when you spent time together. and so you kept returning to him, over and over again

“i’m sorry, mum, i’m just really busy right now. but i promise i’ll let you know when i’m free, okay? i’m sure we can find a fitting date for the trip,” you attempted to soothe your mother, giving her an apologetic smile. she rolled her eyes at you playfully but shrugged it off, knowing that you didn’t mean anything by it. before you could tell her goodbye, your mother suddenly stopped you, waving at the screen.

“sweetheart, one of my friends- her son, i told him about you. he’s a very nice young man and i think you would get along well. when you come visit us, i’ll introduce him to you, yeah?” she explained, a giddy smile creeping onto her lips. “i’ve told him a little about you and your father doesn’t mind either. he has a good background too, i’m trying not to swoon.” she giggled as if she was the one who was to be set up on a date with him.

your eyes widened ever so slightly at her revelation but what shocked you more was that choso had seemingly heard what your mother had said. he was still sleeping when your mother had called you, so you hid in the kitchen to talk, not wanting to disturb his sleep. he stood in the doorway, blinking at you confused. you made sure to turn a little so your mother couldn’t see him. “mum, i told you i’m not really interested yet and want to go at my own pace-”

“honey, i know but the opportunity was just there. i couldn’t pass it up and you can still reject him, no? just try to meet him at least once.”

you sighed. “we’ll talk about it again when i’m home, okay? but don’t put too much hope in it, please.”

“i know, i know. i’ll talk to you again another day. love you, sweetheart,” your mum said goodbye to you and hung up. you groaned, tossing your phone to the side and buried your face in your hands. choso was not supposed to hear any of that. even though you two weren’t really in a relationship, and he had assured you that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, keeping his work at accompanying clients only, you still felt like you were somewhat betraying him. you felt choso’s presence moving behind you, then his arms wrapping around you, his chin being placed on your head. you couldn’t see the slightly irritated look in his eyes, the jealous glint that told you he didn’t want you to look at anyone but him.

“your mum seems to be eager to find you a partner,” he commented amused. you groaned, swatting at his arm.

“i don’t know why they’re suddenly so persistent after not deeming anyone as suitable for years,” grumbling, you turned slightly, pressing a kiss to choso’s chin. “i’m not really in the mood to go on dates just yet, so she’ll have to deal with it.”

“not in the mood for dates?” choso echoed, pinching your cheek. “not even with me?”

you whined, burying your face in his chest. you didn’t want to let him see how his words excited you. “no, i’m always in the mood for you, for dates with you.”

“that’s good to know. we’re going out later after all,” choso laughed, combing his fingers through your hair. “i did promise to take you to the beach and teach you how to surf.”

one of the reasons you didn’t come visit your parents immediately when your summer break began was because you’d already planned a short trip with choso. weeks ago choso had proposed you’d go to the beach together and you were thrilled by the idea, not having been by the sea in years. you’d rented a little cabin by the beach for the two of you while choso had prepared everything for the car ride. the car ride would be rather long but you weren’t worried about it at all - in the beginning, you’d been apprehensive, rather awkward with him. he eased you into everything, showing you not to be scared of relationships and to just be yourself. conversation was easy with him as if you’d been long term friends, with no worries or restrictions. for weeks, you’d looked forward to the trip, to spend more time with him.

the car ride was filled with laughter and calming music, you shared stories and secrets with each other, you fed him the snacks that you’d made the night before. you felt blissful, happily ignoring all the consequences that might be coming your way - you wanted to enjoy your time with him as much as you could. the dance that the two of you were engaging in, it was romantic and felt so domestic, while skirting around the important issue. inspecting your intertwined hands, you clasped your other free hand around his, rubbing the skin gently. choso shot you a concerned, questioning look but you brushed him off, assuring that nothing was wrong. “i’m just happy to be sharing this uh… boyfriend experience with you, really. i wouldn’t wanna do it with someone else.”

choso shot you a wistful smile, lifting your hand to press a kiss on it. “i’m glad you feel that way. you deserve only the best, someone who treats you like the princess that you are.”

the feeling of the grainy sand below you, wind blowing your hair in every direction, sun on your skin, water splashing against your shins - you felt like suddenly all your worries were washed away. you were still running through the shallow water, giggling as you saw choso catching up on you. upping your speed, you jumped through the water until he managed to grab you by your wrist, pulling you into his chest. he lifted you up, twirling you around in his arms a few times before setting you back on your feet, leaning in to kiss you. “you can’t just run away like that, all our stuff is still stranded over there,” he scolded you, playfully flicking your forehead. you glanced behind you, seeing how choso had already placed all the towels, cooler and bags on the beach chairs.

“it’s okay, we have the beach to ourselves anyways,” you retorted cheekily. choso couldn’t argue, instead rolled his eyes. the beach house that you had rented for the weekend was on the outskirts of the city, a rather quiet spot that also had a private beach. the paranoia that your parents might possibly spot you somewhere was running deep and so you didn’t want to risk anything. choso could teach you how to surf in peace, without any bystanders or crowded spaces. but now that you were sitting on the beach chair, you noticed that choso’s mind seemed to be elsewhere as he clumsily fumbled with the bags. you gnawed at your bottom lip, hoping that your earlier conversation with your mother wasn’t on his mind.

“you okay there? can i help you with anything?”

“huh? yeah,” choso answered after a second of processing, shaking his head. “uh i just get distracted looking at you. you look good in that bikini.”

“oh shut up,” you retorted but hid your face from him, still growing bashful even though you were used to him complimenting you out of nowhere. he shot you a wink, resuming his work. “but… choso, you can talk to me if anything bothers you, you know that?”

“yeah, i know… but don’t worry, i think this is something i have to figure out for myself first before i tell anyone,” he padded over, kissing your forehead. “but i appreciate it.”

deciding to drop the topic, you joined him, watching how he demonstrated his surfing skills. if he didn’t want to talk about it, you would respect it; and maybe, just maybe, he would open up to you about it. you watched as choso surfed through the waves, the sight filling you with bright happiness. he looked so happy to be surfing again, the usual tired look on his face wiped away as if it had never been there in the first place. he looked like he was truly at home, comforted and surrounded by the crashing waves. you understood what he meant by being distracted - choso looked good in his trunks as well, the water drops that were rolling down his body, his exposed upper body, the way his loose, slightly damp hair was falling over his face. you very much enjoyed the sight and almost felt creepy for staring so much.

as per usual, choso was a wonderful teacher, remaining calm and patient while he gave you instructions, comforting you when you weren’t doing so well and was always right by your side encouraging you. you hadn’t had this much fun in a while, especially not with someone other than from your close friend circle. it was easy to lose the track of time when being with him, all your thoughts and anxieties washed away like the seashells at the shore. by the end of the day, you were utterly exhausted, your muscles feeling like jelly. as you laid on the bed, you still felt like you were rocked and swayed back and forth by the waves. it was relaxing, almost lulling you into a deep slumber if it wasn’t for the sound of the running shower and choso’s humming. you opened the window, before returning to bed, wrapping the blanket around you. the sound of waves sloshing against the shore echoed through the room, making you feel like you were actually sleeping at the beach.

it didn’t take long for choso to return; you felt the bed dip beside you before you heard him. pretending to be asleep, you waited until he said anything but were instead greeted with a kiss on your nape. you squirmed a little, the feelings of his lips tickling the sensitive skin. a giggle broke from your lips, unable to stay silent any longer. “did i make you wait for too long?” he asked quietly, grabbing you by the hips to turn you around to face him. you shook your head and gave him a smile, leaning in to peck his lips. “no but i did miss you. did i tell you that i now get what you meant by being distracted? you looked really hot in your trunks and so serious while giving me instructions.”

“ah, really?” choso hovered over you, placing his hands beside your head. you’d only offered simple compliments but he was already so fired up, making you grin. “you can’t just tell me that and expect me not to do anything. don’t you know that i’m always hungry for you? i’ll ravish you right here.”

“what if i want you to ravish me?” you bravely retorted, your voice slightly cracking at the end. rarely were you ever bold with him but at this moment, you might as well indulge him. as an reward for teaching you how to surf and being so patient about it. choso clicked with his tongue, pleased with your reply. before he could move, you suddenly felt an urge to go further, wanting to be the one to initiate intercourse for once. you placed your hands on his chest, pushing gently. he looked at you confused, cocking his head to the side. if it wasn’t for the hungry look in his eyes, you would’ve cooed at how adorable he looked. “uhm can i… suck you off for today? i mean you’re always the one who- who makes me feel so good and i know you said you liked it but i just wanted to return the favour…”

choso short circuited at your request, momentarily leaving his mouth wide open as he stared at you. “y- yeah of course, if that’s what you want,” he spluttered hastily, sitting up on his knees. feeling giddy, you shuffled off the bed, positioning yourself at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to move. choso gulped, slowly moving towards the edge. he leaned down to kiss you, your hands snaked towards the waistband of his sweatpants, some doubt overcame you again, slowing your movements. sensing your hesitation, he patted your head and ruffled your hair. “you don’t have to do it, if you feel too nervous about it.”

“no, i want to, really,” you assured him, grasping the waistband and dragging it down. choso lifted his hips slightly, helping you remove his pants. his boxers followed soon after. gently, you wrapped your hands around his semi-hard cock, giving it some gentle strokes. choso exhaled shakily, leaning back on his hands as he kept his watchful eyes on you. you leaned in, flattening your tongue against the underside, running your tongue over the underside, tracing it until you reached the cockhead. gingerly, you gave it a few kitten licks before wrapping your lips around it. hands still stroking him, you delved in, taking as much as much as you could. choso tilted his head back, moaning loudly. it spurred you on, eagerly you bopped your head against him, paying close attention to the sensitive head as you licked and sucked at it. curiously, you licked the slit, tasting the precum on it. the taste was unfamiliar, nothing like you’d ever had before but you weren’t sure what to make of it. but you weren’t grossed out by it, thankfully.

choso’s hips jerked when you touched a particularly sensitive spot, not being able to control his own body anymore. usually, he was more composed, holding himself back for the sake of you - immediately, he stopped and apologized, staring at you with wide eyes. “fuck, i’m so sorry, that wasn’t meant to happen. did i hurt you?” he cupped your cheek, guiltily examining you.

“‘m okay, don’t worry about it. it just surprised me a little, that’s all. but if it’s what you like… i uh, don’t mind,” you reassured him.

“f- fuck, you can’t just say that because i will and-”

“like i said, i don’t mind. i want to make you feel good too.” reluctantly, choso nodded and relaxed again, letting you proceed. you were eager to make him cum, enthusiastically moving your head along the shaft. you welcomed choso’s shallow thrusts, glancing up to watch his reactions. his skin was beautifully flushed, eyes were closed, groans muffled as he bit his bottom lip. you struggled to take his cock in deeper, instead wrapping your hands around the parts you couldn’t reach. when choso’s thrusts got sloppier, you could tell that he was getting close.

“y/n, fuck- i’m gonna- wait, you-” unable to finish his sentence, he moaned, hips stuttering again as you swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip. you suckled on his length eagerly, hands pumping the base faster and choso couldn’t keep it in any longer, coming with a loud moan. you continued suckling on the tip, helping him through his orgasm until he’s spilled all of him in your mouth. sitting back on your knees, you removed yourself from him.

eyes wide and glossy, you looked up at him as he pulled away slightly so he could look at you. choso brushed your hair back, then lifted your chin up, tapping your bottom lip. "show me," he said in a low, hoarse voice, patiently waiting until you opened your mouth and showed him. showed him his cum that was still pooling on your tongue. a few seconds passed until he finally reacted - just the sight of you on your knees, obediently following his orders and showing him your work had his insides stirring with something dark, possessive. "swallow," he whispered, adoringly cupping your cheek as you eagerly swallowed. your face felt hot, whether by embarrassment or pride, you didn't know. quietly cursing, he pulled you up while leaning down, meeting your lips halfway.

unceremoniously, choso dropped you on the bed, making you giggle quietly as you bounced on the mattress. hovering over you, he captured your lips in yet another kiss. you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him to your body. choso pressed his groin against yours, experimentally rolling his hips to elicit a reaction from you. burying your face into the crook of his neck, you couldn’t help but writhe from the pleasure - and even though you’ve been sleeping with each other, you still felt too shy to ask him for… more. how could you express what exactly you wanted when you were craving all of him? when you wanted to engrave everything into your brain; the feeling of his body against yours, his touch, the sweet as well as the dirty words he whispered into your ear. it was almost unfair how easily he could draw a reaction from you, as if he’d memorized every little aspect about you already.

choso nipped at your neck, about to leave a mark when you frantically pushed at his chest. “no visible marks, i told you!” you reminded him, almost feeling bad when you saw his disappointed face. but rules were rules, you didn’t want your parents to find out you were sneaking around with someone; you were barely able to look into their eyes as is. he huffed against your neck, burying his face in the crook of your neck in frustration. seconds passed without a reaction before he finally sat up on his knees, hands reaching out to tug on your shirt. “but everywhere else is fine, hm?” he mused, dragging his warm hands across your chest to your shoulder to push the fabric off.

“i- i guess,” you spluttered, barely having any time to react as he’s already moved on, lavishing your breasts with kisses while leaving a trail of hickeys on them. you whimpered, hips rolling up against his. through your panties, you could feel the outlines of his cock; the anticipation of him filling you up made you salivate. choso was quick to remove your panties and rolling a condom on upon hearing your desperate whimpers that were urging him to move faster. no matter how many times you’d already slept together, he could never get enough of you - you made him feel like a teenager again, like he was constantly insatiable and hungry for you. judging from the look in your eyes, you seemed to feel the same way.

choso angled his cock against your entrance before sinking in, moaning in unison with you. he grasped your hands, pinning them against the pillows as you reached out, trying to touch him. you sobbed in disappointment, just wanting to feel him but choso was having none of it. the complaint was quickly forgotten when he started thrusting, the sound of his hips smacking against yours filling the room. he was diligent, hitting that spot inside you over and over again, enjoying how your legs that were wrapped around his waist were trembling. you were drowning, drowning in him, in the pleasure he so graciously provided you. choso painted your chest with marks, placing them dangerously close to where they would be peeking out underneath clothes. he knew you didn’t want anyone to see them but fuck, he wanted people to keep their hands away from you, wanted them to know that you were his.

you sung his praises, hips quickly bucking against his as he buries himself in you to the hilt. he filled you up so well, always dragging against your walls so deliciously. almost feral, choso fucked you harder, putting all his frustrations and emotions into the strength of his thrusts. it left you feeling breathless, clenching around him hard as you climbed higher and higher. never had choso fucked you like this before, like he was trying to prove something - you sobbed, tears springing forth from the intensity. it felt good, so good and you wanted to cum so bad, wanted to release. the pleasant warmth was spreading throughout your body, almost unbearably hot as you neared your climax. it erupted within you explosively, leaving you writhing in a babbling, incoherent mess. for many moments, your orgasm wrecked through you, making you see white and stars. in your euphoria, you didn’t notice how choso had cummed with you, whispering sweet praises in your ear as he rode you through your high. you didn’t notice how he disappeared, returning with a wet towel as per usual, how he kisses away the tears at the corner of your eyes. through your hazy mind, you could tell that he wrapped the blanket around you before disappearing again.

it took you a while to return back to your senses, marvelling about the sex you just had. what had possessed choso in that moment? could it be because you’d offered to suck him off? or was he so pent up the entire day? the click of the door made you lift your head towards the source of the sound, cooing when you saw choso padding towards you. he yawned quietly, crawling under the blanket and wrapping his arms around you. "exhausted?" you questioned him, nuzzling into him.

"mhmm, i feel like i could sleep in until noon tomorrow," as usual, he ran his fingers along your spine, drawing shapes on your back. sometimes you thought you could feel him spelling something out on your skin but the touches were always so fleeting that it was impossible for you to make it out. whatever it was, he must've been too wary or scared to share it with you. you were reminded of your earlier conversation - choso still hadn't said anything so you wanted to bring it up, not wanting any issues to arise between you.

"choso? do you want to talk about what was wrong earlier? i know you said you wanted to think about it, but i was wondering…"

choso interrupted you. "are you going to go on a date with the guy that your mum mentioned this morning?"

you shot him a bewildered look. so he had been thinking about it. you hesitated, not sure what to tell him. should you be upfront and tell him how you feel? or give him a mild version, so he didn't feel cornered by you?

"i'm… i'm not sure yet. the thought of going on a date with someone else is kind of daunting but i think i'll do it just so my mum's happy."

"i see." uncomfortable silence seeped between the two of you. you could tell that choso was irritated, the frown on his face clearly indicating it. and yet, he didn't elaborate, leaving you to figure out what he meant by that. not daring to move, you stayed still, waiting for him to continue. choso sighed, placing his forehead against yours. "i think this is selfish of me but i can't stand the thought of seeing you with someone else. i wish… i wish it was only me that you looked at."

"you don't want me to go on a date with him?"

"yeah. i- i can't tell you why that is. it's selfish and dumb, hence why i didn't want to tell you. and it's not something that you should worry about. i'm just your escort after all, there's nothing more between us."

his words stung. even though it was the truth, the words still stung, driving a knife right into your heart. it was the very thing that nobara and maki had warned you about. but here you were, heart breaking in a million pieces. perhaps it was the fact that choso didn't tell you the reason, didn't seem to trust you with it, that made you recoil immediately. the walls around your heart were immediately put back into place, safeguarding you from any further harm. he wasn’t obligated to tell you anything and you knew that - there was probably also another reason why he felt that way. any further digging would probably make him recoil as well, it wouldn’t do you any good. whatever was growing between you, it had to stop now. choso simply saw you as a client, probably had been this entire time. again, you were reminded of the fact that he might have been acting this entire time, none of the affection he showed you ever being real.

“i- yeah… i guess,” you replied dejectedly, looking away from him. “i’ll figure it out with him, don’t worry. i’ll just keep my mum happy with it, there’s nothing more to it.”

choso bit his lip, refraining from replying to it any further. you already knew more than you were ever supposed to, he should have never let it slip that he didn’t like seeing you with other potential love interests. it pained him to keep this hidden, keep it a secret from you - but the less you knew, the better. he couldn’t imagine you being okay with being in a relationship with him while he was still an escort, nor did he think that your parents would be thrilled about it. from what you’d revealed to him, he could tell that they treasured you and wanted to minimize any possible harm as much as possible. and that included hand-picking a suitable partner for you. he might never be what your parents envisioned for you and he might never become your love interest so every session that you booked was a blessing to him.

sighing, he placed one last kiss on your cheek before wishing you a good night. but even when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he was wide awake, not being able to stop the onslaught of thoughts.

weeks passed without you ever contacting choso again. your resolve would have never been this strong, hadn’t nobara intervened. while you were moping and still feeling restless, helpless even, she made sure to delete his number and made you take care of the bills before cutting off contact entirely. normally, she would have commented on it - but seeing how you were struggling through your first heartbreak, she decided to let it be. and because maki wouldn’t have hesitated to have her head if you’d ever snitched. maki had encouraged you to take your mind off things, dragging you along to some of the sports classes she attended. it did lift your mood ever so slightly, much to your surprise, it was more fun that you’d originally anticipated. maki attended so many different classes that seemed so intense that you were scared to join at first. in between the classes, you spent more time with your friends. gradually you opened up to them, explaining them the entire issue with choso and how you had struggled to let go. you told them one by one, until it was finally time to let megumi know.

out of everyone, megumi scared you the most - not because he was intimidating or violent but because you knew how he would react. he’d most definitely be upset about it because he was protective over his friends, not wanting them to be harmed in any way. you’d pleaded that at least nobara should tag along to knock some sense into him, should he snap - but megumi’s reaction surprised you. when you finished your story, he was awfully quiet. you assumed he was boiling in anger, reaching out to appease him but he was frowning, making a contemplative face. “uh listen, i think that choso’s yuuji’s brother.”

“he’s what?” nobara’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. megumi had recently started going out with someone that he’d met during work and though he hadn’t introduced you to said person yet, you did know that his name was yuuji.

“yuuji’s brother. i haven’t met him yet but he’s been complaining about his brother for weeks now,” megumi explained, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “choso’s an escort, right? it has to be yuuji’s brother. i’ve stayed over at yuuji’s place a couple of times… yuuji was venting, asking me about advice on how to get his brother out of a rut. apparently, choso’s been affected by this uh… somewhat breakup as well. yuuji’s suggested to him that he should reach out to you to talk but he said something about his work and your parents...”

“huh. what an interesting coincidence…” nobara mumbled but narrowed her eyes at you. “but you’re not going back to him, right?”

all the blood in your body froze. why had choso brought up your parents? they had never been a part of your relationship, you had only told him how overprotective they were and how they liked choosing your partners and friends for you. could it be?

“no, i don’t think so. i’m… very conflicted about our feelings to each other. it was stupid to give into my feelings for him in the first place. i hired someone to act as my fake boyfriend, someone who does this for a living. i think they know better than to catch feelings for their clients,” you sighed frustrated, shaking your head. there was no way in hell this situation could ever turn back around, even if you now knew that choso had also been affected. and still, he never reached out to me, you thought bitterly.

“i think you should talk it out though, if he does reach out to you,” megumi chimed in, awkwardly patting your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “from what yuuji’s told me, it does seem like his feelings are genuine. he didn’t outright push you away, right? who knows what could happen?”

in the end, you couldn’t help but confess to your parents. secrets were bound to be revealed one way or another and you figured it was better you opened up before they found out from someone else. the uncomfortable silence that spread through your apartment created a gloomy atmosphere; the tension was thick and palpable, making you shuffle in your seat in unease. your father hadn’t uttered any word while your mother had completely lost it, not understanding why you hadn’t instead chosen one of the boys she’d always introduced you to.

“all this time you were seeing this boy? and not once did you let us know. i could have asked my friend if they knew someone, their sons are so nice-”

“mum, i already told you i wanted to find someone on my own without having my options being presented to me on a silver plate. and you’re always so disappointed when i end up rejecting them after going through all of the hassle,” you interrupted her, giving her a defiant look. it wasn’t often that you opposed your parents like this but you felt like it was needed - your mother didn’t understand you, nor did she try. you were an adult, for fuck’s sake. you were very much capable of making your own decisions and mistakes to learn from.

“and yet you went to hire an escort! why didn’t you go and meet some of your classmates? i don’t understand why you went such lengths and then even ended up falling in love with them! how would you even pursue a relationship with them?” your mother seethed at you, knuckles blanching from how hard she was gripping her handbag. your father placed a hand on hers, whispering some soothing words in her ear.

“darling, i think y/n knows well that she’s made a mistake and is hurting from it. we don’t need to add to the stress, do we?” he assured her, then looking at you. “y/n, you know that i’m disappointed in you as well. but i don’t blame you for it, i think it’s partly my fault that you felt the need to hire an escort just to… gain some experience. i did take away all your possibilities of a relationship after all…”

“don’t encourage her! this problem won’t just be solved by you spoiling her again, do you know what kind of consequences it could h-”

a loud knock interrupted your mother’s rambling. you were confused - you didn’t expect anyone else for today. it was too late for someone to bring packages. who could it be? you excused yourself, padding towards the door to see who it was. you swore that you briefly suffered from a heart attack when the door swung open to reveal choso. he stared at you equally as stunned, seemingly not having expected you to open and greet him. “w- what are you doing here?” you asked, hating how shaky your voice sounded. how your heart soared, having missed his presence around you. the feelings had never been properly buried, only hidden by a thin layer of pretense that was now quickly being washed away.

“i’m sorry for just turning up unannounced… i was hoping- hoping to be able to talk to you for a bit? i wanted to explain myself,” choso replied, unaware of the two persons in your apartment that were straining their necks to be able to get a look at him.

you groaned. why now? the timing was just too comical, fate must really hate you. “i’m sorry, my parents are here right now. maybe, another t-”

“aha, so this is the boy my daughter has been sleeping with,” your mother appeared behind you, snarling at choso maliciously. panicking, your father had followed her quickly, holding her back by her arm. “you have some nerve appearing here as if nothing happened, what is it that you-”

“darling.” your father cleared his voice, shooting daggers at her. “there’s no need to be rude.”

swiftly, he introduced himself and your mother to choso, politely shaking his hand. choso remained calm, as usual, and introduced himself as well. if he was shocked by the entire ordeal, he sure didn’t show it. his face remained a perfect poker face, no emotions seeping through. “i wanted to talk to your daughter, ma’am. i assume she’s told you about our relationship and how we broke apart. there is no ulterior motive here, i just wanted to explain myself and talk it out.”

“that’s-!”

your father interrupted your mother again, not giving her another opportunity to spit venom at choso. “i think that is a good idea. though she has not opened up about everything, i can tell that she is hurting as much as you are. i believe a discussion would be very productive. but what is your intention? what are you going to do once you’ve explained yourself?”

suddenly, you felt like you were forgotten or invisible in the entire discussion. were they ignoring you? you were standing right there and yet no one was addressing you. you huffed, trying to pull their focus back on you. “nothing’s gonna happen, dad. there was nothing for us to work with and there won’t be.”

choso felt like he’d been slapped. he didn’t know what to make of your reaction but he came here for one reason only: to give you the closure that you deserved and he wasn’t going to leave until he accomplished just that. “i intend to apologize to her. judging from your wife’s reaction, you don’t seem to like me very much. i can’t imagine you would ever accept me, i know i don’t live up to your standards. i don’t deserve your daughter, she deserves so much more than what i can offer. and i’m aware of it. but if she’s willing to have me, i’ll try my very best to live up to your standards, to prove myself to you. i just want to be with her and make her happy. i’m in love with her and that’s what i intended to tell her.”

your heart stopped at his confession. all this time, choso loved you? megumi had been right all along. choso returned your feelings and he was here, so close and yet so far. dread filled you as you realized your parents could possibly drive him away, make him disappear from your life with just a snap of their fingers. you cherished choso more than you were aware of, the adoration running deep in your veins even when you were trying to reject him.

“i see. that’s reason enough for me. we’ve already let her have a piece of our mind, i don’t think she needs more telling off. my little girl has grown so much and it’s time to let her make her own decisions, growing and mistakes,” your father shot your mother a look. she’d calmed down, choso’s explanation seemingly having brought her back to her senses. she looked away, not wanting to look him in the eyes. “we’ll let you deal with this. but know that if she does take you back, i won’t go easy on you, alright? the bars are high and i don’t intend to lower them just because you love her. prove to me, that you’re worthy of her.”

“i will,” choso sounded so sure and confident that it made your father grin - you sure had found someone who took great care of you and wasn’t afraid to stand tall in front of your father. and that he liked, someone who wasn’t scared to back down from a challenge, someone who would be the perfect partner for you. as your parents said goodbye and left, he gave choso a pat on the shoulder before exiting the apartment, leaving the two of you to your own devices.

you didn’t know what to say, how to start. standing in the hallway was awkward but you couldn’t move just yet, instead wanting to hear what he had to say first. “you love me?” you croaked, your voice failing you. now that your parents were gone, you could freely show your emotions, not being able to hold the tears back any longer. choso panicked, fussing over you as you started to cry. furiously, you wiped the tears away with the sleeves of your sweater.

“i do. i uhm wish i had found a better way to tell you this. i figured that you probably thought that everything we did was simply a facade but i promise you that it was all real. i don’t know when exactly but i started falling for you along the way and it was hard… to remind myself that you were a client and i was just there to provide the service to you, you know? i had no right to get mad at you if you decided to go and see other people. and i wasn’t sure of your feelings for me, it was…” choso trailed off, struggling to find the right word but you knew what he meant and nodded, signaling him to continue. “i just didn’t want to tie you to me when you… when you might not like me back or even want to be with an escort.”

you sniffled quietly, wrapping your arms around him immediately, with such a speed that it almost knocked the air out of his lungs. confused, choso wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and rubbing your back soothingly. he was relieved that you didn’t push him away at least and let him explain everything in one go. he felt more at ease now and was at peace with the decision to immediately leave and never butt in your life again in case you rejected him.

“all this time, i also loved you,” you mumbled, an upset frown on your face. “i- i just kept thinking that you’d never return my feelings and that you were just playing boyfriend because i hired you to do so and-”

you hiccuped, another sob tearing from your throat.

“when you told me not to go on that date and immediately followed it with you only being my escort and nothing more, it hurt me so much and i know it was stupid and childish of me to react in such a way but… i was just spiraling, i love you so much and didn’t know where to place the anxieties and negative feelings.”

choso shushed you quietly when your sobs grew more frequent and you let him pick you up, clinging onto him as he walked over to the couch and sat on it with you on his lap. “shh, you’re okay, we’re okay,” he mumbled against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’m sorry i hurt you so much, i was not aware that you already liked me back then and that my words would have such an effect on you.”

over and over, choso apologized quietly until you calmed down, slumping against his chest. you stayed silent, trying to piece your thoughts and feelings back together so as to present him with a coherent and logical question. your mind was in shambles and you hoped that choso would at least get what you were hinting at. “so w- what do we do now? where do we- we go from here?”

“as i’ve already told your dad… if you’ll have me, i’ll make it up to you, all the hurt that i’ve caused you. i love you, so much. i want to be your boyfriend, and this time officially.”

“i like the sound of it,” you mumbled, tilting your head back to look at him. “will you be my boyfriend?”

“it would be an honour, princess.”

with a kiss, choso sealed the deal, easily catapulting you back on cloud nine. who would have thought that the escort you’d hired to be your fake boyfriend would turn out to be the prince charming you had always hoped for, surpassing even your wildest dreams and expectations. choso was everything you wanted and more - he was the person you wanted to wake up to every morning, the person you wanted to come home to. he was the person with whom you wanted to spend your life with, the person that loved you so unconditionally and never expected anything in return. you were lucky that he chose you, that he loved you back. out of all the persons in the universe, it was him.

he was perfect and he was yours.

p.s.: if you've made it until the end: thank you so much for reading!

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[khaleesiofalicante]

I found this on my laptop?

Magnus frowned at Maia but she didn’t bat an eye. Alright, he thought, it was time to bring out the big guns.

He pouted at her.

“So, I can’t give free drinks to any cute people?” he asked, leaning against the wooden counter.

“Nope,” Maia replied shortly.

Huh. Maybe the pout needed more voltage.

“But what if they are super cute?” Magnus asked, pouting even further. “Like Chris Pine cute?”

“Still nope,” Maia shook her head.

“Are you telling me that if Chris Pine walks in here tonight, I can’t offer him a free drink?” Magnus asked incredulously.

Maia sighed, half tired and half exasperated. “I can assure you that Chris Pine is not going to walk into this bar on a Sunday night.”

She paused and looked at Magnus seriously.

“He better not walk into this bar when I am not bartending,” Maia said. “I will be so fucking pissed if that ever happens.”

Magnus wondered how much it would cost him to hire Chris Pine to visit the bar on Maia’s birthday.

“What’s the point of running a bar if you don’t get to give free drinks to cute people?” Magnus gestured at the patrons.

It was Sunday night and Hunters Moon was buzzing with anyone who hated Mondays – which was pretty much everyone.

“The point is to make profit so I can pay off my student loans,” Maia answered and slammed the cash register with a loud thud – she could be a little extra sometimes.

“You had to guilt me with the student loans, didn’t you?” Magnus pouted, for real this time. “Capitalism is a bitch.”

“Magnus, you don’t have to-”

He jumped over the counter in one smooth motion and put a finger on her lips. Cute people come and go – but friends are forever.

“I promised I will take over for you tonight,” Magnus smiled. “I won’t give anyone free drinks – even if they are Chris Pine cute. I promise.”

“Just for a couple of hours okay?” Maia said, as she picked up a napkin from the cupboard, probably hoping to clean the counter for the hundredth time. “It’s mostly just kids from the nearby campus. You can close up by 11.”

He smiled at her and took the napkin from her hands and put it over his shoulder. “Maia, I’ve got this. I just need to look pretty and serve alcohol. I’ve been doing that might my whole life. Just ask my dad.”

“Magnus, your jokes are more depressing than they are funny,” Maia pointed out, looking rather concerned.

“Hush, you!” Magnus shushed her. “Now why don’t you go back to the apartment and prep for the interview with the bank tomorrow?”

Maia was applying for a loan so she can renovate Hunters Moon to make it bigger and better. He wished he had the money to make her dream come true – but he didn’t. So he had decided to help her in whatever way he could. If that meant serving alcohol to redheads and Star Wars nerds with what were clearly fake IDs, Magnus didn’t mind one bit.

“You are the best-est,” Maia smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “You are sure you can handle it, right?”

“Maia, I know my way around alcohol,” Magnus reminder her again. “I once drank so much gin that I almost got married to a plate in Poland. Or was it in Philippines? It was a country starting with P. I remember that much.”

“If that anecdote was supposed to make me feel better, it failed miserably,” Maia groaned, shaking her head.

“The only thing that can make you feel better is some hardcore prepping for your interview tomorrow,” Magnus informed her. “Now off you go. I’ve got this.”

He turned around, already taking orders from a blonde girl in a leather jacket. He saw Maia exiting the counter and picking up her backpack. She turned around and gave him a fond smile.

“One drink,” she said. “You can give one free drink.”

“One?” Magnus said in disbelief. “But there are so many cute people here!”

Maia put her backpack over her shoulder and winked at him. “Then you better find the cutest of them all – and it better not be Chris Pine!”

Magnus pouted at the door, which closed after her. He looked around the bar once more - the small cozy space which will hopefully be a big cozy space in the future. It was full of cute people alright. But how could he just choose one of them? It seemed like an impossible mission.

“Alright cutest of them all, show yourself!” Magnus announced dramatically, half joking and half wishing.

Right on cue, the front door bell jingled and two ridiculously good looking people walked in. They looked like students – but Magnus did not make that assumption based on the usual signs like the dark circles under their eyes or the ramen stains on their t-shirts.

These two were actually carrying a pile of giant text books as they found a corner booth and settled down. Magnus was trying to figure out which one of them was cuter when the door opened more and his quest to find the cutest of was settled – probably forever.

The man wore a simple gray sweater and had dark floppy hair that fell just above his eyes. Magnus wanted to know whether he didn’t comb his hair or didn’t know how to.

And his face. Oh my god, his face. 

It was cute. Probably the cutest thing Magnus had ever seen – which is really saying something because Magnus had once attended a cat fashion show a couple of years ago.

The cute, no – cutest – guy’s face scanned the space, searching for someone – probably his girlfriend, if Magnus’ past luck was anything to go by. Even if this cute stranger turned out to be miraculously and conveniently gay, he was probably still here to meet up his boyfriend.

Magnus was used to his shitty luck.

The man’s eyes stopped on him and his mouth parted open, forming a slight O. He shook his head, his ridiculously cute hair flopping around making him look even cuter. The man started looking around again, this time more urgently.

“Face!” he yelled at someone. Or may it was Trace. Magnus couldn’t hear him over the patrons.

Mr. Cutest of Them All walked towards the two ridiculously good-looking students and immediately started gesturing aggressively at the counter. The two students peered over at the counter – at him? – and pointed at their books.

The man sighed and put his face in his hands. Clearly the three of them were dealing with some sort of personal drama. Magnus, despite wanting nothing but to talk to the cute guy, decided to give them space.

For now, he decided to do his job as promised and started taking and making more orders. One hour down, Magnus had successfully poured drinks, breaking zero glasses – although he did break a couple of hearts when he refused to give them his number.

They should really blame the stupid cute guy who was now brooding in the corner booth. The two mysteriously good-looking friends – friends? – seemed to be reading (studying? In a bar?) their giant textbooks in silence.

The blonde one did come over to get a couple of beers but didn’t say much. Magnus wondered if it would be a good idea to send over a drink to their table. Maia did say he could give one free drink after all and he didn’t think no one cuter could walk into that bar tonight – or any other night for that matter.

The bar was starting to empty out slowly as Maia had promised although the corner booth remained the same. Magnus shrugged and decided to clean up the counter since he had to close up in half hour. He was looking for Maia’s cleaning cloth – which she probably should wash more often – when someone loudly and awkwardly cleared their throat.

Magnus turned around to find the cute guy sitting on one of the bar stools, his fingers clasped neatly on the counter before him.

If he had thought the other man was good looking before, he didn’t have words for what he was feeling right now. Magnus could actually see his clearly now. His face, pale but beautiful – like porcelain that you want to caress at first sight. His blue eyes were so deep and enchanting and would definitely give Chris Pine run for his money.

The counter was empty, and so was the bar mostly, but one customer was still a customer. So Magnus decided to stop thirsting and starting pouring – alcohol, just to be clear.

“What can I get you?” Magnus asked, putting on his best smile.

No harm in smiling, right? It was just good customer service.

Okay he might have also unbuttoned one (or two) or his buttons while he pretended to look for something but that’s mostly because New York can be ridiculously warm in…January.

Whatever.

“Can I get a Cake by the Ocean, please?” the man asked.

“A what?” Magnus blinked.

“A Cake by the Ocean?”

“Uh, I don’t know how to make one of those,” Magnus replied helplessly.

Great his first impression on his cute stranger was that he was a loser who didn’t know fancy alcoholic beverages.

“I am sorry,” Magnus said quickly. “I am not a professional bartender. I am just covering for a friend. But I can look it up on the internet and see if I can make it for you.”

“No worries,” the man smiled, and Magnus wanted to kiss him. “It smells like orange juice and vodka. But also tastes like cranberries, I think? Oh – and peach schnapps!!”

“Hold on,” Magnus said slowly. “Are you talking about a Sex on the Beach?”

The man blinked at him once and then twice. His eyes widened in realization and he face palmed and groaned so hard that his friends looked over at the counter in concern.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” the man said, his voice muffled by his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s really not,” Magnus smiled. Can this guy get any cuter?

“Why would anyone even call a cocktail that?” the man complained. “It’s a terrible name.”

“It was actually coined by this guy from Florida. He was asked by a peach schnapps company to create a cocktail featuring their product. So he made this,” Magnus gestured at the cocktail he was currently making, “He named it Sex on the Beach because most of the spring breakers who visited Florida at the time were looking for sex or the beach. It was really good marketing strategy to be honest.”

Cute guy looked both impressed and surprised at the same time. Cute guy looked cuter.

“I didn’t expect you to offer me an explanation and definitely not a comprehensive one at that,” the man said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Magnus winked – because of customer service.

“You said you are covering for a friend,” the man after a minute of silence. “So how do you know about the sex on the beach thing? Do you happen to know random details about random alcoholic beverages?”

“While that would certainly look excellent on my resume, unfortunately no. My knowledge of alcohol is limited to mixing cocktails and making hangover cures. But I was a linguistics major at Columbia. I spent an entire semester on etymology. I may have a little obsession about discovering the meaning of things. So I happen to know random shit like this.”

“That’s actually pretty cool,” the man smiled again.

“I am glad you think so,” Magnus said genuinely. “My dad doesn’t see the point of pursing linguistics.”

“Most parents don’t understand the purpose of learning for passion,” the man pointed out. “They think we need to get a degree so we can get a job. They don’t really care if we like what we to learn or enjoy what we do.”

Magnus blinked.

The man was not only breathtakingly beautiful but also eloquent and deep.

“I agree,” Magnus replied. “But if we are going to talk about our parents, we need something stronger than a cocktail with orange juice.”

The man chuckled.

Magnus used to think that the most beautiful sound in the world was the sound a cocktail mixer makes when you are getting yourself booze after a long day at work – or short day at home.

But now he wasn’t so sure.

Maia can think whatever she wants – but if his depressing jokes can get another laughter out of the mystery man it would be worth it.

“Alec,” the man said, now smiling.

“Short for Alexander?” Magnus smiled back.

“Yep,” Alec nodded.

“Do you know the etymology of your name?” Magnus asked, as he waved at the last patrons – other than Alec’s friends – who were leaving the bar.

“It means protector, right?” the man guessed. “For Alexander the Great or something.”

“Actually it goes further back,” Magnus corrected, glad they were talking about etymology and not something like…baseball. “It was actually an epithet given to the Greek goddess Hera. She was a total badass. You should be flattered.”

“Well then, consider me flattered,” Alec grinned.

[ultrabright-flashlight]

This ask game (link)

I'm asking u all of these questions simultaneously

Here it is

1. Do you have an inner world?

Sort of but not really. It’s kind of a void in there. There’s a hidden passage to Narnia but I ain’t found it yet

2. Is there some sort of organization to your parts?

Tbh I’m not quite sure what this one means, autism mode activate

3. Do you experience your disorder as overt or covert?

A little overt. I do mask a lot, but I don’t really try to hide symptoms that often cause it’s not like anyone will figure it out anyways

4. How do you experience communication from parts?

We don’t(/hj). Next question

5. Are there parts that are able to communicate more than others?

I think that would be Renity tbh, but she just doesn’t do it much

6. What is the best grounding technique you’ve discovered that works for you?

Honestly we still don’t have a reliable method to do that

7. What’s a resource you found you can trust?

There have been resources in the past but i don’t even remember them,

8. Do you have any fictional introjects? What is that like for you?

Furan and Seven are both introjects of the player character from their respective source games. Furan was a customizable character so when we play that game it’s like ‘oh look it’s her’ /pos. Seven’s source character was a fixed non-customizable character and whenever we play that games it’s like ‘oh look it’s her’ /neg

9. When did you find out/realize you had a dissociative disorder?

Since recognizing and naming Lucy back when I was 12/13, the suspicion of DID kept creeping up every now and then. I always dismissed it cause I thought ooo it’s so rare there’s no way. These are just different personas I act out as long as you ignore it was never acting. Spoiler alert when I was like 17/18 I think I gave in and started doing research and took therapy seriously. It was actually DID the whole time. I wonder how well I would be doing today if I listened to those suspicions from the beginning, since I recognized an alter when I was a TWEEN

10. What does denial look like for you?

Denial usually comes from me, the host. I just wonder if I actually made them all up.

11. What are some denial busters that work?

Switching. Just a simple switch, someone else takes the front for a bit and proves they’re real for the ten thousandth time

12. Do you have any other identities that make your experience with your dissociative disorder different?

I don’t think so. But it’s possible autism is affecting it, and I’m just so used to it that I don’t realize

13. What is a song that always brightens your mood?

I have a few, actually

My Castle Town - Toby Fox

You Are The Moon - The Hush Sound

What Is My Life - The Gregory Brothers(yes this is the Jacksepticeye song)

The Smile Song from My Little Pony. I don’t feel like being ashamed of this. If my smile is all it takes to make the little pink pony happy then that’s what she’ll get

Gold by Jeff Williams(from RWBY)

14. What ANP’s are around the most? How do they differ from each other?

I’m gonna be honest I don’t know for sure if any of us is an ANP or not

15. When parts are working together in your life, what does that look like?

Basically just doing the things we’re best at so the others don’t have to. Conflict resolution and comforting people for Nameless, giving advice for Renity, etc

16. How does having a dissociative disorder affect your relationship with the people closest to you?

That’s pandora’s box and I’m not opening it

17. If you could tell someone questioning whether they have DID/OSDD one thing, what would it be?

If it’s a stranger, I’d tell them to be kind to their alters no matter what if they have it. If it’s a friend I’ll tell them they can always come to me for help

18. What has your experience with therapy been like?

Id rather not answer this one tbh

19. How do you experience gender?

£€#*}*<^>’h$(84£}*[..

20. Are there dichotomous views on your gender expression?

Kind of yeah. Some of us like to be more feminine, some of us like to be more androgynous. One of us wants to transition

21. What kinds of decisions do you check in with parts before making?

The biggest thing is decisions that will drastically affect relationships, such as ending a friendship or starting/ending a relationship

22. What would the perfect day look like to you?

A day with my friends where I don’t run out of energy, and maybe the others in my system finally get some recognition and love, since they tend to be left in the dark and disconnected

23. Do you make time for other parts to do things? Why or why not?

Since voluntary switching isn’t a skill we have(the exception being Renity), no. But everyone’s welcome to do what they want when they front as long as it’s not harmful

24. Do you get involved in syscourse? Why or why not? Has this changed over time?

I used to be heavily into the syscourse scene. There was a lot I was able to mentally handle but eventually it just got too braindead for me. I still hold the same views, but I’m not going to fight over it

25. What is a piece of misinformation about DID/OSDD you want to clear up?

GOD that’s a lot. I can’t really decide honestly

26. When would you tell someone about your DID/OSDD? How do you explain your DID/OSDD?

I tend to just let my friends know. I’ve gotten shameless about being mentally ill lately, plus anyone who’s mega ableist about it has no business being in my life anyways. I don’t tell people outside of friend circles, though

27. What does your support system look like?

I assume this means support for my mental health. My fucking computer. Video games with my friends. What more could I ever want?

28. Have you met other people with DID/OSDD online? What was it like?

I have a friend who has it and I also mod a server for systems. It’s fucking liberating man, to have other people around me who actually Get It. Even if I don’t say much about my own system, I feel understood when I listen to them talk

[plus-size-reader]

Hidden Away

Geralt of Rivia x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2138 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Geralt makes a small stop on his journey and has to take Jaskier along, only for the bard to uncover the Witcher’s biggest secret. 

——————————————————————————————————

Geralt had never got close to this place without stopping, but not for a lack of trying.

All those years ago, he had lived here under the cover of what he was, killing monsters for money, just as he did now. There was only one thing that was different back then, one very important thing.

...You

You were, for lack of a better word, the witcher's life partner. You were the only person that he’d ever truly cared for and that meant one very painful thing. It meant that he had to leave you behind,

Geralt couldn’t very well let something happen to you because of who and what he was. If something happened to you, he would never be able to forgive himself so he left you here, only visiting on rare occasions.

You never agreed to it, of course, but he didn’t give you much choice in the matter.

Geralt made a rather strong case for why you had to stay there, and seeing as you’d never been the hunting and killing monsters type, you agreed against your better judgement.

Though you constantly found yourself staring out your window, waiting for the day he’d come strolling up that cobblestone path looking to spend a few nights with you before he had to leave again.

You were never going to escape your every second searching for the man you loved so much.

Still, as much time as you spent staring into the grassy fields and empty streets of town, you couldn’t have been less prepared for the time when he finally came looking for you.

It seemed that the time would never come but that all changed this morning, when Geralt insisted to the bard that he needed to stop in a nearby town for a few days.

He offered nothing more than that and Jaskier didn’t ask questions.

Whatever it was that Geralt needed to go there for, the other man seemed to understand that it wasn’t his place to probe for information. Anything he needed to know would come to him as the days unfolded.

Not that he was comfortable waiting that long as soon as the two men actually got into the town Geralt had been telling him about.

The witcher didn’t even bother to stop at the inn or any of the foodstands that were currently operating through the final months before winter when they would have to close up for the season.

Instead, he made his way toward the edge of town with not a word, just leading the bard behind him with Roach in tow. It would all come to light in time and right now, Geralt wasn’t in the mood to explain.

All he could think about was seeing you again after all this time.

It had been months since he’d been able to come through his way and that was something he wouldn’t be able to apologize for enough but to make up for it, he brought the bard along to help explain.

All things considered, the witcher was just glad he’d been able to carve out this time to see you before they had to leave again.

“Where are we going Geralt? What is going on?” Jaskier asked finally, half convinced that his best friend was out of his mind at this point. He seemed to just be walking into the woods with no destination in mind.

Though, just as he was about to demand that they stop and talk it through, your cabin came into view.

It was close enough to town that you could walk to get the things that you needed but not so easily accessible to the road that anyone just wandering through could find you.

Gerlat had built it with that in mind, with the sole purpose of keeping you safe when he couldn't.

“What is this?” Again, Jaskier spoke but Geralt ignored him, searching the window in the front, almost expecting to see you there in the shadow of it. Though, you weren’t there like you usually were.

Instead, you had been in the back of the cabin, checking on the raspberry plant you’d rescued from the forest. You weren’t sure it was going to sproat at first, but now it was doing pretty well.

In fact, it had even started flowering and it wouldn’t be too much longer that it would start producing fruit. By spring, you may have even been able to sell them at the market.

“Y/N? Are you here?”

The words came from the front of your home in a tone that you couldn’t have hoped to misplace. You faltered only slightly, considering if you could have imagined it but as if to prove you wrong, he called again.

This time it was only your name, in that deep, gruff voice that you knew so well but that wasn’t all. As you rounded the side of the cabin toward the front, you heard a second voice.

...One you didn’t recognize.

“Who is Y/N? Geralt, what is going on?” it sounded like another male, though his voice was much more melodious than demanding in the way the witcher’s was.

In any case, it was enough to make your walk toward the front of your home much more cautious than it would have been if it was just Geralt out there.

You didn’t know this stranger, and whoever it was, you couldn’t be sure that they didn’t want to do you any harm...At least, not until you saw the two of them with your own two eyes.

At first, all you did was peak around the corner you were hiding behind but it was more than enough for Geralt to see you. Even still, after he’d called out again, you didn’t come out.

You weren’t going to until he assured you that you were safe.

Perhaps all this time you’d spent in exile had made you a bit more cautious about strangers, more nervous to the company of other people but you couldn’t be blamed for that.

You just weren’t sure how safe you were in their company.

“Y/N, it’s okay. You can come out, this is a friend of mine” Geralt assured finally, partially proud that you were being so careful even in his presence. It meant that you were just as careful when he wasn’t there, and that would keep you alive.

Somehow, even after that, you didn’t seem convinced but you did as he asked, walking slowly until you were at his side finally. As soon as you were there though, your reactions did a complete 180.

To Jaskier, it was confusing but once you made sure that everything was safe, you practically launched yourself into the witcher's arm. It was an action that would have caught a normal man off guard, but not Geralt.

If anything, he seemed to have been anticipating the action and caught you gently without hesitance. Even a woman of your frame, who Jaskier could not have held in that way, gave little cause of issue for Geralt.

He barely even noticed the added weight of holding you, instead focusing on holding you as close to him as possible, breathing in your scent that he’d missed so much.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, we’ve been on quite the journey” he muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to your face before setting you back down on the ground, letting you get your balance back before turning to the bard finally.

This whole time, Jaskier didn’t even know what was going on and he still stood by his friend without hesitation. As he said before, whatever he needed to know would find him in time.

All he had to do was wait.

“Forgive me, I’m being so rude. I’m Y/N” you spoke first, beating Geralt to it once you’d gotten comfortable in the company of this new man. Usually it would have taken longer but with the witcher here by your side, you had nothing to fear.

Nothing could hurt you while Geralt was here.

You offered a hand to the dark haired man, a bright smile on your face as you tried to get him to introduce himself in turn. Jaskier was thinking about it, of course, with every intention of doing so but he couldn’t make his tongue make the words.

In front of him was a goddess among men.

You were the most stunning creature he’d ever seen in his entire life and he was just expected to speak to you as if it was nothing? That wasn’t going to happen.

Luckily, Geralt knew his friend well enough to have seen this coming. The witcher was under no illusions about your beauty. You had been self conscious about your appearance all your life, constantly told to change yourself but Geralt had no part in that.

Once you two met, he made sure that you were aware of how beautiful you were just as you were, and now Jaskier was witnessing it for himself.

“This is Jaskier, he’s a bard” Geralt informed, a bit of humor in his tone as he spoke about the man in front of you both. The better you got to know him, the better you would understand.

...But that would come with time.

You giggled, assuming that there was something wrong with the strange man before he finally nodded, still unable to make the words he was searching for.

“It’s nice to meet you Jaskier” and with that, you reached back to take the witcher’s hand in your own, leading both men into the cover of your cabin. You tried not to spend too much time outside if you could help it,

You never knew who could have been watching.

“You two must be famished, I’ll fix you something” you spoke idely, more to yourself than either of them, immediately searching for something to serve them. “So, tell me about where you’ve been? Saved any lives lately?” you grinned, starting up the smalltalk as you worked.

Whatever it was they had been up to, you were beyond thrilled over the chance to hear all about it. Geralt’s stories had always been your favorite and you weren’t going to miss a second.

...And thus, began one of the most incredible stories you’d ever had the privilege of hearing with your own two ears. These two had been through the gauntlet and you were hooked on every word.  

“How do you know her? I swear, that woman is incredible. What do you imagine the chances I have with her are?” Jaskier wondered, fiddling with his fingers as he spoke.

You couldn’t hear them from where you were, doing your best to get the spare bed ready for a guest but Jaskier couldn’t help but check over his shoulder as he spoke about you.

He surely would die of embarrassment if you heard him.

“I don’t so bard. She’s my wife”

That was one hell of a development, of course, but Geralt said it as if it was nothing. It didn’t seem to register to him that information like that could have very well made Jaskier swallow his tongue.

A wife? He didn’t even know that Geralt had a wife, let alone the fact that his wife looked like you?

“You’ve been hiding her here and you didn’t tell me?” he gasped, his hand physically falling over his open mouth as he tried to comprehend this new information.

All Geralt did was nod.

He didn’t think that it was all that important until now, besides, telling people about you defeated the purpose of hiding you in the first place.

“No one knows about her, it's just better that way. She’s safe here, safer than she would ever be with me” It was just the truth, but even as he said it, there was a sadness in Geralt’s voice.

You truly did deserve much better than him, better than the life he’d provided for you but it kept you alive and that was all he could hope for now.

He only hoped that one day it would be better and you two could wake up beside one another every morning for the rest of your lives...but for now, this was just how it had to be.

“I refuse to believe that goddess of a woman married you” Jaskier shrugged, a few moments after Geralt left his side to help you. All he could do was watch the two of you, eyes wide with the sheer craziness of it.

...But the proof was in the pudding and Jaskier could see it with his own two eyes.

Geralt had a wife, and you just happened to be the most beautiful woman the bard had ever laid eyes on. There was no refuting that.

[brywrites]

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand.  You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

..

Tags: @calm-and-doctor​ @averyhotchner​

[blue-n-yellow]

stranger things spoilers (also this is incredibly messy but even tho its not worded 6, i think it gets my point across? im too tired to try to edit it right now 😭)

-

im working on a bigger post analyzing the use of the heart on mikes shield in wills painting and mike being called the heart of the group but like. it’s the way that mikes relationship with el/his feelings for her directly parallels els relationship with her powers/her feelings on them.

i don’t… i don’t think we’re supposed to be saying “mike only loves el when she has powers and is using them to benefit him,” that doesn’t feel right. i think… moreso we’re supposed to look for parallels. mike didnt stop loving el *because* she lost her powers, but he struggled to show affection when she was struggling to use her powers. 

when el stopped considering herself a monster because of brenner, and acknowledged that he was fucked up in his actions, she regained control of her powers, and even came back stronger than before. to continue this parallel, mike should simultaneously be renewed in his love for el, and should define their relationship in terms of himself, how he feels about her, instead of doing what he did in season 3, and pointing out his perceived issues with other peoples treatment of el.

but…. as some people have pointed out (if you made a post like this, lmk! id love to find the post i saw about this and give credit), mikes monologue, his confession of love to el, is…. unemotional. everything he lists off about her is factual, it’s details about when they met- it’s things he already knew. he hasn’t grown or changed in how he feels about el, he hasn’t found self stability- he’s still codependent, still reliant on being els boyfriend (im assuming we’re all on the same page about this, but i can explain what i mean by this if we’re not!).

el took the lies being told to her, and all on her own, explained her side of things, added her own thoughts to it all. brenner was trying to get her powers to grow, but it was when el said “no, you’re misconstruing what happened in the lab- it’s not me, it’s you” that she truly grew.

mike took the lies being told to him (by will), and accepted them. he had 100 reasons not to, but for whatever reason (i have thoughts on this, that’s just not the point right now), he didn’t question things. he did not add his own thoughts and feelings to things. he was trying to feel more confident in his and els relationship, and wills feelings became “els, not wills” 

i worded this weird, sorry- els powers become stronger when she accepts the truth about what happened in the lab. mikes feelings for el, his ability to act in love with her, becomes stronger when he doesnt accept the truth about his and els feelings. even when he’s working with true, genuine feelings, he’s misattributing their origin, and thus his “return” of them is inherently a lie. there’s no love, no feeling, in his “response to els feelings” (the monologue, and how factual it was) because… that’s not how el feels.

again. wording is horrible i am so physically tired rn and this went so many places but… i don’t think mikes feelings for el are reliant on her powers. i don’t think her ability to use her powers directly determines whether or not mike loves her. i think instead, that there’s a parallel between el being strong enough to value and love herself in the face of her abusive parent figure, her powers being stronger when she faces the lies being told to her, and mike not being strong enough to face the lies being told to him, rather accepting them as the truth, thus worsening the lie he’s telling himself- that he’s in love with eleven (which, im of the view that mike is struggling with internalized homophobia due to his upbringing/childhood)

they’re not responsible for each other- i don’t think mikes feelings for el impacted her powers (i know, i know “but she was stronger after he confessed!” shhh. no. more on why that’s bd later), and i don’t think els powers impacted mikes feelings for her. i think that els ability to find inner strength and take the difficult road to the happy truth is represented by her relationship with her powers, and i think mikes inability to confront the easy lie which is so burdensome to live is represented by his relationship with el. el is struggling with accepting that her powers are just another part of her, and she’s not horrible for having them, and mike is struggling with accepting who he truly loves, and that his sexuality is just another part of him.

el confronts the lie she’s being told, stops telling herself it, and then her powers grow. mike accepts the lie he’s being told, keeps telling himself it, and… he and el aren’t talking, they’re just not breaking up anymore. their bond is weaker because he’s not acknowledging the truth of it, he’s living based off lies.

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[027] — trust the victim!

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a/n: i literally just bought christmas gifts for my entire family and my bank account said 📉📉📉

“no, i’m good, thanks.” satomi deadpans for the umpteenth time today.

sure, those bear costumes were adorable and the cafe just behind the pair of mascots looked like a good place to eat, but this was not the time. if she were to be late to work, she hasn’t have the slightest clue on what her boss, mr. kono would think. she just hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t be fired, but especially after that one time went out with iwaizumi, she wasn’t sure anymore. missing work as a healthcare worker was already a serious ordeal, but being part of a professional team’s sports medicine team was on another level of seriousness. hell, she got suspended for an entire week just for a night, she couldn’t spare another minute.

“are you sure?”  the shorter bear asked again, “your dessert will be on the house if you eat now!”

satomi had a lot of patience. considering she’s good friends with bokuto and the physical therapist for the black jackals, it’s almost essential to have such a trait. yet by now, her patience was wearing quick.

“we’ll even throw in a free drink!” the taller bear added. their voices sounded awfully familiar.

granted, everything seemed awfully familiar today—from the couple she tried to help back at the coffeeshop and that random girl that accidentally bumped into earlier, but it didn’t matter now. she could not sacrifice years of hard work in medical school while finessing her way up the ladder to even work for a division 1 volleyball team for a stupid mistake.

something within satomi snapped, “i said i’m fine.” she huffed, pushing through the bear’s stuck arms holding promotional flyers. she stomped away, relishing the slight inkling of relief course through her as she finally escaped the pair. however the relief didn’t reign supreme for long once her eyes checked her phone.

shit, satomi thinks. i’m fucking late.

it was then did she push her weight off her right leg, running towards the gymnasium just a few blocks away. she felt like she was about to throw up her heart at any minute thinking of the consequences she would have to face once she entered that damned building. man, did she regret a lot of things by now. she wished to ignore the rising sting of her thighs that grew fatigued by the second, yet she’d rather think about the pain than beat herself up over her regrets.

satomi was well aware that she wouldn’t even be in this predicament if she didn’t say yes to iwaizumi. and yet, there was no way in hell did she regret going out with him. besides, she has a good feeling that their relationship could actually happen. maybe getting him drunk that one time was the best idea she ever had.

why else did he ask her out if he didn’t like her back?

her breath heaved as she pulled herself into a stop. entering the stadium doors, she was greeted by the security guard. she greets him back with a faux smile melting across her face as she reached into her bag for her id. “where the hell?” she muttered, “where’s my wallet?”

“is there a problem?” fujiyoshi, the security guard asked.

an annoyed scoff emitted from the girl. great, she thinks, can this day get any worse?

“sorry, fujiyoshi-san.” satomi says with the timbre of her voice suddenly turning sweet and provoking, “i don’t i have my id on me right now.”

the guard’s usual hard expression didn’t soften in the slightest and it kind of took satomi aback. usually guys would fall her sweet words, but she honestly wasn’t surprised that someone that’s a beefy security guard with muscles bigger than her head wouldn’t fall for that.

“you know i can’t let you in without a form of identification that you work here.” he dictates.

“oh come on, fujiyoshi!” satomi exclaimed desperately, “you see me walk inside every, just let me through!”

“no can do, ms. yahagi. we’ve been having security issues lately and this is just a necessary precaution.” 

satomi rolls her eyes, just put me out of my misery. “but you can't just—” she suddenly pauses as the black jackals and the rest of their sports medicine team make their way into the gymnasium. “bokuto! iwaizumi!” she shouts their names. the volleyball player and the athletic trainer look their way towards the girl a few meters away, held back by a security guard and the safety railing. “can you please tell this guy to let me in?”

by now the entire team was looking at her like a museum exhibit as all of them knew of all the fucked up things that she did. but honestly, if it wasn’t for sakusa and tomas holding back hinata and atsumu, who knew what those two would’ve done—maybe yell at her or just spoil all the fun of her suffering.

there was a level of confusion of satomi’s face when they all just stood there doing nothing. she gets that it’s strange seeing their physical therapist not be let in cause she forgot her id card, but things felt... different and she didn’t know what. did she have something on her face?

iwaizumi looks away, forcing himself not to look at the girl who used him for her own accord. he opted to think about you instead. meanwhile, bokuto continued to stare daggers at her, holding back a smirk as the sound of clicking shoes echoed from one of the hallways.

“hello?” satomi calls out again, “are you going to tell him to let me in?”

“that won’t be necessary,” a deep, guttural voice says, followed by none other than her boss, mr. kono, all suit-clad and his hair gelled back. “let her in,” he tells fujiyoshi.

“thank you!” she rolls her eyes before pushing through to the other side. she approaches the group of volleyball players and her medicine team, but is immediately stopped.

“come with me to my office.”

“what?” satomi asked, brows furrowing together as she walks to her boss instead. “did something happen?”

“i think you know,” mr. kono flickers a look towards iwaizumi before he disappeared into the gym. in an instant, satomi felt her breath hitch at the realization. she opened her mouth to speak. she tried so hard to force the words to come out between her lips but no excuse was good enough for her to get herself out of this one. maybe this day did get worse and she was absolutely speechless. “from personal experience, i always trust the victim.”

fun facts! —

when bo said that “it was time” it meant that they were going to report satomi, which wasn’t the plan at first since iwaizumi didn’t want anyone else to know

hinata, sakusa, atsumu, and tomas only knew of what satomi did, but they didn’t know that she did it to iwaizumi so they were extra mad

the entire msby team and their sports medicine team found out then so now she’s: ✨f-i-r-e-d✨

meanwhile, y/n, yuko, suga, kaori, and semi ended up eating at the bear cafe (they felt bad for akaashi so they order him takeout)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[maybebanks]

I Noticed You

jj maybank x kook! reader

“Alright, Sarah. Bye now,” you groaned, stepping out past her white painted bedroom door.

“Noooo,” she whined, “don’t leave,”

“I gotta go.” You pouted, “my dad wants me home,”

“Fine. Be like that.” She waved you off.

“Your parents are way less strict then mine!” You argued.

“Uh huh,” Sarah responded sarcastically, “I’m gonna miss you, bitch,” she smiled.

“Okay...see ya,” you waved while walking through the door.

You continued down the hallway, it was a sort of narrow hallway, but you’ve been down it many times before.

“Hey Y/n,” you heard Rafe’s voice call for you, he was leaning casually against his door frame.

“Oh..hey,” you answer, stopping infront of him.

You had to look up to talk to him because he was taller than you.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Rafe asks. You had no idea why he would want to talk to you. I mean, he’s always been nice to you, but he was nearly 20. And you were barely 17.

You nodded, following his gesture for you to come into his room.

He closed the door after you. You just stood by the window. Raising your eyebrows at his suspicious actions.

You looked behind you and saw their backward looking fresh, a Pogue, you think his name is JJ but you didn’t know him well, mowing the lawn.

“I have to be quick. I promised to be home,” you mentioned.

Rafe smiled, not saying anything, just looking at you.

You fumbled with your crop top, “So..what’s this about?” You asked.

“You know how long I’ve been trying to get you alone. You and Sarah...it’s non stop,” he said.

“What?” You asked, very confused in general.

“You were at Toppers party right? Damn..when I saw you snort that coke I was like...this girl...she’s bad,” he chuckled.

“Oh...that was-that was a mistake. I don’t do drugs like that anymore,” you reassured, feeling regretful about that mistake.

He laughed, “don’t lie to yourself, baby. Just think of the fun we could have together,”

Is this some kind of flirting?

“Look...uh, I have to go. Talk later?” you opened the door a bit but Rafe slammed it shut.

“What the hell?” You asked angerly.

Rafe scoffed, “hanging out with Sarah makes you a real bitch,”

“Rafe...I have to go!” You raised your voice. This seemed to anger him. For next, he lunged towards you, trapping you against the wall.

“You think you can tell me what to fucking do?” He asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

When you saw his eyes, you could tell he was high.

“No, I’m-“ you began but stopped yourself when the door creaked open.

Wheezie’s brunette head peaked through the crack of the door.

When she saw both of you, her eyes turned confused.

Rafe moved off of you, “Wheezie, get out of here,” he ordered.

She didn’t argue like she usually would, she didn’t even exchange a glance at you. Just left the room, leaving the door a crack open.

“Shit,” you whispered involuntarily.

“Tell me, Y/n, what’s it gonna take?” he asked.

“Hi!” Wheezie shouted over the loud noise of the lawnmower. Waving her hand towards the boy out in the field.

JJ chuckled, he mowed the lawn for the Cameron’s once or twice a week. Wheezie was basically the only Cameron to talk to him, she would test out flirted to him, even though he was a pogue.

JJ turned the lawn mower off, walking over to Wheezie.

“What’s up?” JJ asked, honestly, he enjoyed a break from his work, and he would never get in trouble becuase Wheezie would defend him.

“So...uh...I don’t know for sure. But I think Rafe is gonna hurt her. And he’s kinda....you know, I mean he does drugs. I saw him this morning! Anyway, he’s in his room and I think-“

“Whoa! Slow down! Who’s gonna hurt who?” JJ asked, now concerned.

“Just put on a shirt and come with me!” She demanded, pulling him by his wrist towards the house.

“I don’t think your parents would be okay with me comin’ in,” JJ chuckled again.

“Just...okay...you know Y/n right? She’ll kill me if she knew I brough you into this becuase she hates attention or whatever but I’m worried, because you know...Rafe has a thing for her and I’m just worried he might try to kiss her and...” She trailed off, but JJ knew what she meant.

He frowned, “You sure I should go in there? What if she wants it. I mean, a lot of kook girls hook up with Rafe,”

“TMI!” Wheezie exclaimed, “anyway, Y/n isn’t one of those kook girls. She’s wayy too good for Rafe. Plus I think she’s into surfer boys,” Wheezie shrugs.

JJ sighs, “alright fine. But you owe me for this,” JJ began walking up the stairs, “what, you not comin’?”

“I am not about to get yelled at by Rafe. Plus I’ll cover the fort down here, so my parents don’t get involved.”

When he finally made it to the second floor, he heard your voice. You weren’t strangers, you’ve met once or twice, but JJ always thought you were way out of his league. And that was saying something.

“Rafe seriously. My dads gonna kill me!” You stated, pushing against Rafe’s rather buff chest.

“Who cares about your dad, Y/n. Just get on your knees,” he stated.

JJ felt disgusted. Even he knew that was no way to talk to a girl.

He stood outside the parted door.

“No, asshole,” you said bluntly, trying to get around him again.

He grabbed your wrist, harshly, pulling you back so you hit the wall. You moaned in pain when the doorknob from his closet door hit your back.

That’s when JJ interfered.

He pushed open the door to make his presence known.

You both looked up at him at the same time.

Rafe immediately stepped back from you, and you pushed the sleeve of your shoulder back to covering yourself.

“Everything alright in here?” JJ asked, studying the situation.

Rafe sniffled slightly nervously, he knew he probobly couldn’t take JJ in a fight due to all the drugs he’s on.

Rafe looked at you, to which you immediately understood, “uh...we are fine. Thanks JJ,” you answered, clearly nervous.

He was surprised, and unexpectedly flattered, when you addressed him by his name.

JJ thought fast, “there is a car here for Y/n,” JJ lied. But you believed it, and so did Rafe.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck, “Okay Y/n...have fun.” Rafe said as you stepped out of the room.

You wanted to flip him off, but JJ was right behind you.

When you got outside, JJ was about to tell you there was no car, but he couldn’t when you thre your arms around his torso, a hug, where you rested your head on his chest.

“Whoa,” he chuckled.

“Thank you, J, you have no idea...” you mumbled.

JJ slowly moved his arm to hug you back. But when his hand reached your mid back, you took a sharp intake of breath and pulled away.

“Sorry, for that. You really saved me back there,” you explained, looking up at him.

“It’s not problem. Oh and by the way, there’s no car here for you,” JJ mentioned.

“Oh...right. Shit I kinda need a ride. You looked around. Until your eyes landed on JJ again.

He studied you.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You asked.

“No...” JJ shook his head, “this is the most you’ve ever talked to me,” he blurted. Kinda regretting not usuing his usual approach when talking to girls.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you before. I just didn’t want to get you in trouble,” you explained, “but I have noticed you,”

Your phone dinged, and that’s when you remember to check the time, “shit,” you blurted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just...my dads gonna kill me. I was suppose to be home like an hour ago,” you sigh, still nervous.

You noticed JJ tense, “I can give you a ride? The van is gonna smell like weed though,” he winked, gesturing for you to follow him.

You nodded, following him down the driveway to where his “busted” van was parked.

“I’m not usually this helpless, you know,” you blurted, wanting him to know you for the real you.

“Oh believe me, I know,” he chuckles, opening the van door for you.

He was surprised by himself, again. He’s never cared enough to open the door for anyone. But it was so simple you probobly wouldn’t notice.

You smiled, at him and hopped in. There were some all black aviators and a red SnapBack on the seat. Which you moved so you wouldn’t sit on them.

As JJ walked around the van, you couldn’t find anywhere to put them, with all the clutter around, so you just decided to wear the sunglasses and his hat.

When he opened the car his eyes widened in excitement, “looks good on you Y/n,” he said starting the van.

“Who the hells that? I’m JJ,” you joked. When you took a deep breath, you scrunched you’re nose at the stench.

“Whoo,” you sighed, “it’s strong in here. What’d you hotbox or something?” You continued with the JJ impression.

“How do you know me so well?” JJ laughed and grabbed the hat off your head and placed it backwards on his own.

“Just guessin’,” you shrugged, moving the sunglasses farther down your nose.

“Where’s your place?” JJ asked as he turned the wheel.

“Uh...” you trailed off when you noticed Rafe running out of the house, looking angry, waving at the van.

“Shit! JJ go!! Drive!” You commanded. Grabbing his hand and forcing it on the wheel.

You knew Rafe would judge you for spending time with a Pogue, and he would also be mad.

“Calm down, princess,” JJ responded, stepping on the gas.

You immediately retracted, “sorry.” You muttered.

He pulled out of the driveway quick and started heading down the wrong road.

“Where are you going?” You asked, slightly nervous now.

“Back to my place. Since you didn’t tell me where yours was,”

“Wait...uh it’s down that road. I’d really love to hang but I gotta be home,” you told him.

“Ya sure?” JJ said turning the wheel and heading down your street.

You nodded.

“No, I mean, kook princess, would be down to hang with a Pogue?” JJ asked.

You pointed to the pastel yellow mansion with terra-cotta roofing, “of course JJ, I think you’re dope,”

“Holy shitt,” JJ moaned when he saw your house, admiring its beauty and the boat you had parked in the front.

“Jesus, what id give to be a kook,” he mumbled.

“Trust me, it’s not as good as it-“

“Y/N!!!” Your father shouts, he must have seen you pull in.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

JJs heat started to race, that was so damn hot.

You pulled of the sunglasses and placed them on the dash.

“See ya later, and also, you can come over any time use any materials you like. My brother got a new surf board and then went off to college, it’s all yours if you want it,”

JJ smirked, perks of having a kook friend that lived with a family that bought status symbols with their money, “can I get your number?”

“Yeah, it’s-“

You both stopped at the banging on JJs window.

Your father, was urgently yelling, “Y/N get out here right now. Your late for training, god damn it,” it was muffled, but you both understood.

“Training?” JJ questioned.

“See you at the Cameron’s,” you winked, then hopped out of the car and joined your dad inside the kook mansion.

JJ contemplated a life with you, only for a moment, then pulled out of your, rather long, stone driveway.

happy friday !

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