#i hate answering fics with asks bro....

[jrueships]

negligent mother

[pbaintthetb]

Since you're currently rewatching House... "I wish you would write a fic where" the MDZS crew are in a modern day AU and NHS drags NMJ to House because of his strange qi deviation symptoms :) Bonus points if Wen Qing is one of House's interns!

oooh very interesting idea. So, I took a stab and have about 2.5k of random segments (not chronological sorry) I did find the voices kind of hard to get

s1-3 era i guess if only because it's the original duckinglins + wen qing. It's also slightly unclear whether cultivation exists in this and if so whether people know about it or not but eh

If i do more segments, becuase i had some in mind I will reblog this and add on to it but I make zero promises. Not sure how many of the things you wanted I hit but I had fun spitballing, even if the House and WQ voice is hard

***

“I didn’t realise they let war criminals work in hospitals these days,” Mingjue comments, it’s meant to sound idle, but to Huaisang it sounds icey. He expects it sounds pretty damn icey to Wen Qing too.

“Good thing I’m not a war criminal then,” Wen Qing refutes with a tight smile, moving her stethoscope to Da-ge’s back. Mingjue humphs, Huaisang digs into his thigh with his key through his trouser pocket and wishes he didn’t have to be so responsible.

Not because he wants Xichen or A-Yao to be doing this (not necessarily at least) just… Huaisang had moved heaven and earth to be here and frankly he’d rather not. They haven’t met Dr House either yet… though from what Nie Huaisang had read that might actually be a good thing.

He looks at his brother and Wen Qing again, her face is in deep concentration, and Mingjue’s is furrowed in an expression that means discomfort of some kind. What kind, Huaisang doesn’t know. For all he prides himself as a brother, he’s no expert in reading the microexpressions. 

And a lot has happened recently, a lot of things that could be causing discomfort in all kinds of ways.

Or maybe it’s even guilt for how he’s been acting. Huaisang wouldn’t know. His brother has been a growing stranger to him these past few months. And then last night…

Nie Huaisang looks at his brother in Wen Qing’s hands and thinks about maybe getting some air, maybe even going on a walk to the coma ward. But he can’t bear to leave his brother, and as he looks at Wen Qing, he feels- somewhat despondently- that she’s a lot stronger than he is.

But Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to be strong, Da-ge’s strong, Huaisang is persistent and weak. Which is why he’s dragged his brother here, despite all the complaining. He knows he’s only being humoured, and he knows why he’s being humoured.

But Huaisang will take a hundred burnt fans if it means a healthy Da-ge. Besides, a hundred burnt fans would still leave the nice one Jiang Cheng got him after they left that Gusu Summer camp a while back.

“How long have you been having these symptoms?” Wen Qing asks clinically, bringing Huaisang’s focus back into the room. He chides himself, what is the point of being here if he doesn’t pay the utmost attention?

***

“Don’t you wonder how your intern and Guangyao know each other?” the big guy demands. The way the big guy spits the name suggests some kind of history there. House is kind of interested, except he expects it’ll be pretty banal so, maybe not.

“I don’t know,” House drawls, twirling his cane, “She’s a renowned doctor, he’s an innovative music therapist, both working at hospitals in New Jersey- of course!” he gasps sarcastically, “Did they meet in a sex dungeon?” He tuts, shaking his head, “Naughty, naughty Qing. First Chase, now her- do you reckon she uses those needles for extra-curricular purposes?”

Just for good measure House throws in a leer. If he’s reading this guy right, wound up and uptight as he is, he’s about to lunge. Which means House can get him restrained. Which means House has a better chance of doing the tests he wants with the consent of the obviously confused, and obviously devoted little brother.

There’s a story there too… but House has no time for sob stories.

The big guy stares at him flatly.

“There’s no shame  in sex, that would be a stupid reason for me to be angry at them.”

Interesting.

“Whoa! Who said anything about being angry?” House asks all mock confused,  “I thought we were just discussing how they met?”

The patient gives him another side eye.

“You’re not half as slick as you think you are.” With that the guy settles back down in bed.

Which is just hurtful really. Also interesting. House doesn’t exactly think he’s trying to be slick, so it’s interesting that the patient thinks he is.

***

“Cuddy’s been hunting House all day to get him to do his clinic hours,” the blond doctor explains, probably to his colleagues, because they adopt matching expressions of complete comprehension.

“Oh really,” Da-ge hums, expression unimpressed, and he’s looking right at Huaisang. Huaisang gulps. “Sounds lik-”

Whatever it was that Da-ge was going to say shirking work sounded like (and Huaisang has really no idea!) is cut off by the sudden spew of blood from his mouth.

Sadly- and it really is, at this point Huaisang is kind of used to it so he’s not even-

He’s not even surprised.

He still screams and flinches though, crying and begging the doctors to do something.

And they do, running around, saying words just short of a yell that all sound very serious and complicated. So Nie Huaisang stops yelling,  because nobody needs his words too.

***

Mingjue doesn’t like Dr. House because the man is a dick. It does not mean, however, that he doesn’t respect him. Dr House is honest, at least. Unlike some people. Dr House is honest about having no real regard for Mingjue, no respect for order or regulations, a purely academic understanding of morality and being a curmudgeony arse.

Nie Mingjue isn’t overly fond of Wen Qing either, though that’s less to do with her skills and her honour. Mingjue has faith in those because he’s experienced them first hand. He just doesn’t like her.

Plenty of people have done things they didn’t really like very much in circumstances they’d infinitely prefer to not be in. But there’s always a choice but Wen Qing had made hers, and Mingjue- well. What happened happened in the way it did.

House, Dr House is staring at him rather intently. Mingjue lets him, he’s used to being stared at. He hit six-foot when he was fourteen, and he’s six-four now with the breadth to match. And he’s used to being stared at because ever since their father died all the questions have been directed at him. And he’d certainly been stared at under Men- Jin Guangyao’s dark stare in that room wit-

Mingjue cuts off that train of thought, feeling his head pound. The Doctor is still staring at him, leaning forward.

“Your brother thinks you’re crazy, you know? Cuckoo, loo-loo, the whole works.”

Mingjue doesn’t say anything, his hands fist in the sheets. He knows. He knows Xichen thinks so too and that’s why nobody ever listens to anything he says. They look at him and see his father twenty years too soon.

But Huaisang didn’t drag him here to have his head looked at. Huaisang’s happy to defer to Xichen and the rat about that. Mingjue knows that, he knows that. He’s here because Huaisang sees their father twenty-years too soon and there’s been a countdown going off in his didi’s head since the first time he found the bloody tissues Mingjue had stuffed in the bin in an ill-thought out plan of hiding them.

Honestly though, how was he to suspect Huaisang would be looking in the rubbish, the little brat never did any tidying and now Mingjue is here when it’s all-

“Huh,” Dr House says thoughtfully, “You do know. Maybe you’re not crazy then, crazy’s not usually so self-aware.”

Mingjue’s not so sure. Their father had been self-aware enough between all the moments where he wasn’t to be horrified. Not that that horror had done much, locked into an endless battle with their father’s pride. He’s not sure how to word all of this to Dr House, and he’s not even sure if he wants to. So he doesn’t.

Mingjue’s here because Huaisang wants him to be here and Mingjue wants Huaisang to be safe. Mingjue’s proud, but not so proud as their father. If he lashes out here there’s a syringe of haldol waiting for him and orderlies to hold Huaisang back.

Mingjue would prefer not to be here, but if Huaisang won’t let him alone (and Mingjue knows his didi can’t) then this is the best place to be.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away, you know,” the irritating doctor singsongs. It tempts Mingjue to try, even though he’s had years of a little brother and is very well acquainted with this fact.

***

“San-ge and Er-ge would never hurt Da-ge,” Huaisang objects, voice going high with his wail. They swore a brotherhood! Sure, things aren’t so good right now, but things aren’t always so good with Huaisang and Mingjue and neither would hurt the other.

The stupid Dr House just cocks his head. Wen Qing is standing a little behind him, face carefully blank.

“Very convincing. You convinced enough to stake your brother’s life on that?”

“I-” Huaisang starts, stops. Heart trembles. It feels like a betrayal. Saying no. Saying yes.

He looks at Wen Qing and thinks about the coma ward, three floors down, 2 corridors across.

“I wouldn’t stake my brother’s life on anything,” he refutes. Concession, admission, permission, whatever.

***

“I don’t know,” Foreman responds, “My brother and I? We were never like that.”

Chase is sprawled out in a chair, Cameron is the same but she’s doing a much better job of making it look elegant. Foreman is leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped.

And Wen Qing is standing there, like it’s her first day again, an outsider.

It’s this case, she knows the patient and she doesn’t know him and she- Well she doesn’t know much about Huaisang. But A-Ning had said enough things before that she’s just…

But as much as she doesn’t really know either of the brothers, she does know this.

“Both their mothers died in childbirth, and their father’s been dead for over a decade,” Wen Qing interjects, walking over to the coffee pot so she doesn’t have to look at them. She thought she’d buried this when she’d moved here. Except for A-Ning; she could never bury him, Wen Qing refuses. 

“They’ve only got each other.” The pot’s empty and she scowls in disgust. “Siblings like that- they either can’t stand each other or they’d do anything for each other.” Maybe both. She doesn’t think of a certain little brother of her own, because she’s on the job right now and even as she’s always thinking of him she can’t.

“They’re half brothers?” Cameron asks, and Wen Qing won’t take this accusation.

“Yeah it’s in their history, I-”

“No- no,” Cameron waves her off, “It’s just- Huaisang seems so convinced as much as it’s like their father’s illness, it’s different- and Huaisang seems utterly unaffected. What if it’s something Mingjue got from his mother?”

“What, like a completely different condition that just mimics the one his father had?” Foreman snorts, kicking out his legs, “That’s likely.”

“Or maybe…” Chase starts like he’s had a thought, “It’s some kind of [interaction]. He got his father’s illness, and he’s got something from his mother that’s making it act like this.”

They all consider that for a moment.

“We need to tell House.” Wen Qing’s already walking out of the room.

***

“The mental symptoms!” House yells, “The guy’s got fucking PTSD- and nobody noticed, not even his supposedly so devoted brother.”

“But-”

“Oh jeez, if only there was a reason that the mental symptoms were so much more aggressive and and in flux than what they reported of his father- if only there were a doctor on my team who knew the patient, but-”

Wen Qing burns, she burns so hard she can’t even hear the insult to her character House is no doubt lumping out. She can’t talk about this, she can’t.

Meng Yao’s, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, has good fucking lawyers, and enough skills to have kept himself alive under her Uncle’s watchful eye for a year. Wen Qing had signed, and signed, and A-Ning’s upstairs and Meng Yao’s somewhere else and-

Mingjue is worth nothing compared to A-Ning, do no harm be damned. And not even Huaisang’s fury is enough of a motivation. She understand that fury, she understands it well, it burns inside her everyday her brother doesn’t wake up.

“I said,” Wen Qing hisses, aware of the stares of her fellow interns on her, and the genuine angry glare of House, “That I suspected he’d been through trauma recently- as did his brother!”

House does not look calmed in the slightest, he takes a step toward her.

“Well maybe next time use the word ‘torture’. It’s got a certain buzz that really makes it shine out as an alarm bell.”

Her ears ring, and ring. She can’t say anything, and if anyone else is speaking, she can’t hear it.

***

Wilson doesn’t know how he always ends up in House’s conference room dragged into a case that clearly isn’t cancer and therefore doesn’t need an Oncologist to consult. But, well, House is House (demanding bastard) and Wilson is Wilson (needy bitch) so maybe he does know.

The children as House would term them are all throwing out theories and Wilson is following along well enough to understand, but nothing’s sounding like cancer and House never hired Wilson so he’s not really giving out any theories.

That’s when the man walks in. Anybody unknown walking into Houses’ office can go a few ways, so Wilson preemptively prepares for something to be thrown. Except the guy’s just looking at Wilson.

“You have another doctor in your team?” the man asks House uncertainly, but he’s still looking obsessively at Wilson. It’s kind of weird.

“No, no, I’m just here as a consult,” Wilson explains politely, “Dr James Wilson.” He extends a hand.

The man- who’s kind of more of a kid takes it nervously, still staring at him.

“You’re an oncologist,” the unknown guy, who is probably related to House’s current patient in some way, states. Brother? 

“Yeah I am,” Wilson chuckles awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. “How did you know that?” Because if he knew the patient knew he was an oncologist, he wouldn’t have said. Nobody likes hearing you’re an oncologist, unless you’re saying you’ll never see them again. And even then, sometimes they don’t like it.

“It’s on your door,” the brother of the patient says, still sounding uncertain. “Does this mean you think my brother has… uh- I mean, whatever it is that oncologists treat?” his voice has gone up at the end.

Mentally, Wilson is raising a brow, externally he is not. He is a professional and actually knows what the term ‘bedside manner’ means, unlike some people in this room.

House doesn’t raise a brow either, but that’s because House doesn’t believe in restricting yourself to non-verbal symbols of rude disbelief when words can be twice as insulting.

“Whatever oncologists treat,” House drawls mock sympathetic, the patient’s brother twitches with what could be embarrassment. “No, we don’t. Dr Wilson is just here to stare at Cameron’s ass. Or maybe Chase’s- who can tell them apart from behind?!” 

Wilson looks to the ceiling for salvation while House guffaws and Chase and Cameron scowl.

The guy is still looking at Wilson, and taking pity, Wilson divulges.

“No, we don’t think he has cancer.”

The guy nods, not as if this is good news, but rather as if this is news he’s always known.

***

“Brother shops around for the best diagnostician he can find, but doesn’t even know what an oncologist is?” House shakes his head and helps himself to some of Wilson’s fries. Wilson offers a put-upon expression in return, but he hasn’t touched his drink so he’s probably not actually put upon. Besides, Wilson knows House is going to eat his food, if he wants it to stop happening he should stop buying it.

“So?” Wilson asks, playing his role of audience participation in their private one-man show as always. “I didn’t realise that your webpage had the definition of oncology on it- right underneath your name I suppose?.”

House shoots him a look for the snark. And the blatant missing of the obvious point.

“The first thing anybody does, when they google symptoms is find cancer,” House explains, Wilson nods, so maybe he gets it too now. Gets how weird it is- and House doesn’t like things that don’t make sense.

“Ok,” Wilson is still nodding and House takes some more fries while he’s distracted, “But isn’t he here because he thinks his brother has what their dad had? Which wasn’t cancer? So he doesn’t think it’s cancer, so doesn’t need an oncologist. He’s deadset on it being this one thing so he’s not looking at anything else.”

House shakes his head, he doesn’t know what it is or why it’s bothering him but it is.

“He’s here because he thinks it’s not operating like what their dad had, which is when worried younger siblings start running down the cancer route and looking for the best Oncologist they can find-” he shoots Wilson a significant look “-but he skips that altogether and brings his brother here- his sick brother who’s been sick for a while but only just agreed to come.”

It’s interesting, it’s a puzzle. House likes puzzles and he’d rather puzzle out what’s affecting the older brother right now, but a man can always multitask.

[sugusama]

hii, i loved your Katsuki fic and wanted to submit a request. katsuki x american gf reader, where he’s never met her but they try to talk throughout the day by texting or calling despite time difference. then they meet at the end of the fic as a surprise for katsuki (still UA au please). tyy :)

꒰🫧꒱﹒ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ﹒⟢ featuring: katsuki bakugo ‧₊˚ . ꣑୧

sypnosis ☆ bakugo never expected to fall for a girl halfway across the world… especially one with a six-hour time difference and a laugh that lives in his head rent-free. between classes at ua and her busy days in america, they text, call, and fall a little deeper with every message. but what happens when time zones and screens aren’t enough anymore? ⸝⸝ ᰔ ̫ ᰔ⸝⸝

content warnings ☆ fluff, comfort, a little angsty, ua based, black female reader, she/her used, lowercase intended, not proofread, bakugo has broken english, italics = japanese ๑•́ ₃ •̀๑

word count ☆ 1.1k

authors note ☆ hello hello! thank u so much for ur kindness 🌼 here you go! i hope you like this one just as much! if u would like anything else let me know!!

katsuki didn’t want to be part of any dumb online chat.

he hated talking for no reason. hated random people. especially hated wasting time when he could be training or doing something that mattered.

so when denki shoved his phone in his face during break and said, “bro, you gotta try this,” katsuki’s immediate response was no.

“it’s a server,” denki explained, grinning. “for, like, international hero fans. some of them are trying to get into schools like u.a. and they ask the weirdest shit.”

“not my problem.”

“c’mon. you can mess with them. they’ll lose their minds when you answer.”

“fuck off.”

but that night, katsuki couldn’t sleep. his shoulders ached from drills. his head was too loud with thoughts he didn’t want to think. and his phone, tucked under his pillow, kept buzzing with notifications from that stupid server denki added him to.

he stared at the screen for a while. thumb hovering over the app. then—he opened it.

a flood of posts. some boring. some weird. some flat-out wrong.

and then one message caught his eye.

|“so like… do students at u.a. really spar? like actually hit each other?”

the username was unfamiliar. your profile picture was a blurry sky—probably taken from your phone. and your bio just said “sleepy. always.”

he stared at your message longer than he meant to as he tried to decipher it.

then typed, slowly:

|“yes. we fight. real hits.”

a full six minutes passed.

he didn’t think you’d respond.

but you did.

|“wait WHAT. like actually?? is that even allowed???”

he snorted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

| “yes. is real. allowed. strong hits.”

your response came quicker this time.

| “dude! i’m american. our schools make us wear helmets to run in gym class. this is unfair.”

he let out something close to a laugh—just a small huff of breath—but it surprised him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t need to.

he already bookmarked your name.

he didn’t expect to hear from you again.

but the next night, just after dinner and before study hour, you were there.

| “hi again, explosion boy. (you got a better name?)”

he stared at the screen for a second before replying:

| “bakugo.”

| “ooh. that sounds cool. you sound cool. are you?”

he hesitated, then typed:

| “yes.”

you sent back the laughing emoji. then:

| “humble too.”

he didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

from there, it became… a thing.

late-night messages. voice notes. pictures.

you sent him one of your lunch—a sandwich and chips, nothing fancy—but you added,

| “i ate thinking of you. does that make me weird?”

he didn’t answer for a full hour.

then wrote:

| “no. i like that.”

you replied with a blushing emoji.

he stared at it too long.

he never liked phone calls. they were too much. too close.

but your voice was—soft. kind. playful in a way that made his chest ache.

your first voice note was just:

“hi. it’s weird hearing myself talk to you, but i wanted you to know what i sound like.”

and he listened to it.

three times.

the first time just to hear your tone. the second to understand every word. the third because… he missed it, even if it had only been a minute long.

his reply was rough. hesitant.

“hi. uh. i… don’t like talk. much. but… i like yours. voice.”

you sent back:

| “that was the sweetest thing ever, actually.”

after that, you started calling.

not every day. not long.

just enough.

he’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, half-listening to your rambles about work and siblings and the weather. he didn’t talk much. didn’t know how to say all the things he was feeling in a language that always made his tongue trip.

but you didn’t mind.

you’d say, “you don’t have to talk. just stay on.”

so he did.

it happened slow.

your voice became part of his routine.

your good morning texts came while he was getting ready for class. your “i’m heading to bed, katsuki” messages always landed when he was on patrol.

you started sending pictures of things you loved. a book. your porch light. a sunset from your window.

he started sending them back.

once, he sent you a picture of his hand after training—bandaged, calloused, rough. and you wrote:

| “ i hope you rest, even when you think you don’t need it.”

and that line just… stayed.

for days.

he reread it during class. during silence. during nights when his head was too full and nothing felt steady.

he didn’t say he missed you.

but he did.

quietly. constantly.

time difference was cruel.

he hated that you were waking up when he was falling asleep.

he hated how sometimes he’d send a long message and forget what he wrote by the time you answered.

he hated how his chest twisted when he saw your name and couldn’t respond.

but you always made it easy.

“ i know you’re tired. you don’t have to talk. i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you… i’m still here. still cheering for you. always.”

you made it feel like you were closer than you were.

and yet, the space between you ached more with every week.

he didn’t notice when he fell.

not until kirishima asked him why he was smiling at his phone.

not until his chest ached when you didn’t text.

not until he caught himself learning english phrases just to tell you things the right way.

he didn’t tell anyone.

not even you.

but he sent you a voice note at midnight, after a long day, voice hoarse and quiet:

“i… i like talk to you. always. i wait for you. even when late. just so you know.”

you didn’t reply with a voice note.

you replied with a text:

| “me too, katsuki. every day.”

he didn’t sleep that night.

it came suddenly, the text message read:

| “if i ever came to japan… would you wanna meet me?”

he sat up in bed like he’d been punched.

heart pounding.

he typed.

deleted.

typed again.

finally, he sent:

| “yes. i want. i wait for you.”

and then he waited.

one hour.

then two.

you didn’t reply that night.

and he told himself it was okay.

even if it wasn’t.

two weeks.

that’s how long it took.

two weeks of silence. of almost texting you. of wondering if he’d said something wrong.

then—midnight.

his phone buzzed.

| “come outside kats <3 ”

his hands shook.

he ran.

didn’t care who saw. didn’t care that he was barefoot.

and there you were.

standing at the gate. hoodie on. suitcase by your side. scarf he mailed you wrapped around your neck.

you smiled.

“hey.”

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

you stepped forward. nervous.

“you’re taller than i thought,” you teased.

he swallowed hard. voice rough.

“you’re… real.”

you laughed. tears in your eyes.

“told you i’d come.”

the aching, the quiet missing, the longing—

and then he held you.

and everything he’d been holding in— spilled into the way he buried his face in your neck and breathed like he could finally exhale.

[l1v-jzn]

adrenaline — geum seong je

just a short brainfot fic for him, cuz yk RAW RAW RAW AH AH AH or whatever that lady gaga song said.

The hallway was narrow, tucked behind the chaos of the club like a secret you weren’t supposed to find. The walls pulsed faintly with the bass from the floor beyond—like the whole building had a heartbeat, and it was starting to speed up.

She was halfway down it when she felt it that shift in the air.

Then his shadow slipped across the wall beside her. Suddenly, he was there.

Leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting, one shoulder up, one foot crossed lazily over the other. Clubmaster glasses catching the flicker of violet neon lights like a dare, a black hoodie hood pulled low beneath a fitted racer jacket—sleek, sharp, and smelling faintly of smoke. Black pants clung to his frame just enough to hint at the power coiled beneath his lazy posture. He looked less like he was waiting for someone and more like he’d already decided what he was going to do to them.

Seong-je didn’t speak right away. He just looked at her, like he was bored, like he was hungry.

Like he was trying to decide which would be more fun, ruining her day or her life—maybe both.

“You lost?” he asked, voice low and warm like poison in tea. “Or are you just following me because you like what you see?”

He pushed off the wall with an easy grace, stepping closer. Real close. Close enough for her to smell the smoke on his skin, the chill of his cologne, the fire in his breath.

“You want me to fix that with my mouth, sweetheart?”

His smirk was pure sin, dripping with confidence and that same unshakable calm that made even danger look seductive.

“Say something,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “Or I’ll assume you want me to keep going.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to anyway.

He could see it—the heat rising in her cheeks, the way her breath caught just slightly. That flicker in her eyes like she wanted to run… but even more like she wanted to stay. Seong-je smiled, slow and mean.

"That look in your eyes…” he murmured, stepping even closer, boxing her in against the wall, one hand braced beside her head. “You want me to kiss you so bad it’s practically leaking off you.”

He leaned in not to kiss, but to speak right against her lips. Voice like a sin sliding under skin. "But I don’t do kisses, princess. I devour."

His hand ghosted just along her jaw, knuckles brushing her skin—not touching enough to count, just enough to tease.

“I’ll ruin that pretty mouth of yours before I ever let you taste mine.”

He chuckled—low, throaty, dangerous. Like a warning and a promise all wrapped into one.

“You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you?” His head tilted, studying her like a puzzle he already knew the answer to. “Your thighs twitch every time I say something I shouldn’t.”

A beat passed. His voice dropped into something silkier. Darker.

“I could have you whimpering in syllables, one for every time you swore you hated me.”

Then, finally, he backed off—just slightly, enough for her to breathe, enough for her to realize the space between them still felt like he was touching her everywhere.

"Careful," he warned, smirking as he pulled back. “Blush any harder, and I might think you’re ready to beg.”

i love everything abt him bro this is getting unhealthy..

© l1v-jzn

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 6 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 8 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hey hey! i wrote a little minimum wage, maximum suffering side story for a nanami x reader request! obviously, it’s not canon to this main fic—just a fun little “what if” scenario where the barista and nanami get to be two overworked exhausted souls, bake together, and accidentally start catching feelings. if that sounds like your vibe, feel free to check it out! also, just a reminder that i’m taking requests, so if there’s something specific you wanna see in this universe or any jjk x reader content in general, send it my way! thank you all so much for the love and kind feedback—reading your reactions truly makes my day. hope you’re enjoying the chaos!! 🫶

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing aggressively against your nightstand. You consider letting it vibrate itself into the abyss, but then you see the name on the screen.

Greg the Manager.

Of course, it’s Greg.

You contemplate ignoring it. After all, you've gotten pretty good at ghosting calls from him. But then you remember the last time you did that, and Greg left you a voicemail that said, "Hey dude, I know you don’t like getting called, but I need help because the espresso machine is like… emitting a black fog? But no worries, bro, I handled it—put a towel over it."

The towel, you later discovered, had caught fire.

So, for the sake of fire safety and whatever remains of your sanity, you begrudgingly pick up.

"Yo," Greg the Manager answers, sounding unreasonably chill.

"What’s wrong," you say, already bracing yourself.

"Uh. Don’t freak out, but the espresso machine made a sound that was, like… unholy."

You close your eyes. Rub your face. Consider throwing your phone out the window. "Greg. It always does that."

"Like, bro, I’m telling you, it sounded sentient this time."

"It’s just a machine, Greg," you reply, a deep sigh escaping you.

"I don’t know, man. It said something."

You sit up now, the exhaustion of life creeping up on you. "It spoke?"

"Not, like, English," Greg clarifies, sounding very much like he’s trying to convince himself. "But it made a noise that felt like it had intent."

Before you can even come up with something appropriately sarcastic, Greg makes a noise of panic. "Oh god. It’s smoking. Again."

You hang up.

By the time you drag yourself to work, the café smells like burnt espresso, disappointment, and what you can only assume is the palpable scent of existential dread. Greg the Manager is standing frozen in front of the espresso machine, which looks like it’s on the verge of giving up on life—or maybe plotting to drag him into some alternate dimension. You can’t decide. Either way, it’s rattling violently, as if trying to break free from the shackles of this mortal plane.

"Hey," Greg greets you, looking vaguely guilty.

You stare at him, then at the machine, which lets out a low, menacing hum. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" he says, a little too defensively.

You narrow your eyes.

"Okay, so I may have, like, smacked it real hard because it wasn’t working."

"You WHAT?!" You take a step back, half-expecting the espresso machine to come alive and launch itself at you like some caffeinated version of The Terminator.

"I—"

Before he can finish his sentence, the espresso machine lets out a noise that can only be described as otherworldly. It’s a screech that would make an animal in pain sound pleasant by comparison. The lights flicker. A single ominous spark shoots out of its side.

You take another step back, because honestly, at this point, there’s nothing left to do but stare at the impending doom of your workplace with all the grace and patience of a minimum-wage worker who’s clocking in for a shift that’s definitely going to suck.

“Cool,” you say flatly. “So we’re all gonna die today.”

When you hear no response, you turn. Of course, Greg—ever useless—has disappeared. Just gone. Like a damn mirage. You glance around the café, mentally preparing for the usual gauntlet of weirdness.

Muffin Guy is in his usual spot, staring at his muffin like it holds the secrets of the universe, and a woman is peering at the menu like it’s written in hieroglyphics. The vibes are bad. Just another typical day at the café.

And then—because life loves making things worse—the door chimes. You look up to see Choso and Yuji walking in. Well, Yuji walks in like a normal person. Choso, however, enters like he’s surveying enemy territory. He, as usual, zeros in on you like a heat-seeking missile.

"Barista," Choso greets you solemnly, as if he’s about to deliver some deeply important news.

"Choso," you reply, because this is just how your conversations go now.

"I have returned."

"You sure have, bud."

“You look exhausted.” Choso observes, his brows furrowing like he’s genuinely concerned.

You, running on caffeine and spite, give him a tired look. “That’s just my face.”

Choso doesn’t get sarcasm. Not even a little. His frown deepens. "I will give you nourishment."

Yuji, sensing an impending crisis, groans loudly. "Choso, please. We talked about this."

You already know what’s coming. You brace yourself. “Let me guess. You brought an entire feast again?”

Choso, ever serious, reaches into his pocket. You hold your breath.

And then, finally, he pulls out a single, modest red apple and places it on the counter like he’s offering you the Holy Grail.

Yuji’s jaw drops. “Character development?! He only brought one thing?”

Choso nods solemnly, like he just made a sacrifice. “I am learning restraint.”

You stare at the apple. “Where did you even get this?”

Choso pauses. Looks at Yuji. Looks at the apple. Looks away.

Yuji’s expression shifts to pure betrayal. “Did you—DID YOU STEAL THIS FROM THE FRUIT STAND WE WALKED BY EARLIER?”

Choso looks totally unbothered. “The barista needs nourishment.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN JUST COMMIT CRIMES—”

Before Yuji can launch into a full-on rant about the ethics of fruit theft, the door chimes again, and in walks a new customer.

This guy?

He radiates vibes.

The kind of vibes that scream, "I’m either a cult leader or a very rich businessman who just walked out of a TED Talk on ‘The Secrets of Power.’"

Tall, sharp features, long black hair partially tied up in a man bun with loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing traditional robes that look like they cost more than your monthly rent. His movements are slow and deliberate with the kind of controlled grace that screams villain.

As he steps inside, he sniffs—like a Victorian aristocrat who just walked into a peasant’s barn. Then, with a look of absolute disdain, he pulls out a small spray bottle, mutters "disgusting," and mists himself like a beauty influencer on a self-care day.

You blink. Slowly.

Did this man just Febreze himself?

He catches your stare. Of course he does. And you instantly know: This man is judging you. Hard. You can feel it deep in your soul.

Choso immediately tenses. Yuji just looks confused.

“...Do I know you? You look sorta familiar,” Yuji asks, like he’s trying to place the guy who just sprayed himself down with Eau de I Think I’m Better Than You.

The man ignores both of them and strides up to the counter.

Then, he smiles.

It is fake as all hell. You would know, you give fake smiles on the daily.

"Hello," he says, voice smooth and deeply insincere.

Your customer service instincts activate against your will. “Hi. Welcome to—"

"You work here?" he interrupts, in the same tone someone might use to ask, "You live in filth?"

“…No. I just wear the apron and make lattes for fun.”

His lip curls slightly, as if your existence alone offends him. "I see. Sharp-tongued for a monkey."

There’s a pause.

You stare at the man.

Yuji sputters, clutching his hoodie like it might protect him from the sheer audacity unfolding before him.

Choso glares, his resting murder-face intensifying.

The man—who is now on your personal Most Hated Customers List, right beneath that one guy who asked if oat milk had dairy in it—lets out a long, exasperated sigh, as if he’s the one enduring the most in this situation.

"It’s just an observation," he says smoothly, like that somehow makes it better.

You deadpan. "Observation of what? My ability to use tools? My advanced problem-solving skills?"

"Charming," he muses, as if you’re some kind of exotic street performer. "No wonder Satoru enjoys this place."

Your eye twitches. Oh god. Of course.

"You know Gojo?"

The man’s expression flickers—just for a second. His eyes darken slightly before he schools his face back into the usual smooth, infuriating calm.

"In a way," he says cryptically, which is not an answer, but whatever.

Yuji cautiously clears his throat. "Uh. So. What’s your name?"

The man smiles, slow and deliberate. "Suguru Geto."

Choso, who has not stopped glaring since this conversation began, somehow glares harder. Geto notices and, rather than feeling threatened like a normal person, looks vaguely pleased.

"Can’t a man enjoy a cup of tea?" Geto asks, all silk and smugness. Then, he turns back to you, fixing you with an expression so judgmental it makes your soul itch. "This is an establishment that serves tea, isn’t it?"

You squint at him. "You seem like the type to order something obscure, like… oolong infused with the souls of the damned."

His lips twitch, like he wants to smirk but refuses to let you amuse him. "Just green tea will suffice."

"Sure," you nod half-heartedly. "Coming right up."

As you prepare the drink, you vaguely register that Yuji looks like he’s trying to astral project himself out of this situation, while Choso—without a word—has positioned himself just slightly in front of you, like a silent, glaring guard dog.

Then, as if the universe has decided that this moment isn’t chaotic enough, the café door SLAMS open.

And in saunters Gojo.

Like he owns the place. Like he’s walking onto the stage of his own Broadway debut.

"HELLO, MY FAVORITE MINIMUM WAGE WORKER!" Gojo announces loudly. "HAVE YOU SEEN A—"

Then, he sees him.

Gojo’s entire body freezes.

Geto, for his part, remains utterly calm. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift. The only movement comes from his fingers, lightly tapping against his tea cup you had just placed in front of him like this is some casual interaction and not charged with enough tension to power the national grid.

"Satoru," Geto greets smoothly, tilting his head.

Gojo blinks once. Twice. Then he grins—but it’s different. It’s not his usual annoying, gremlin-esque grin. It’s sharper. Tighter. Colder.

"Suguru," he replies, voice light, but not playful.

You, oblivious to all actual context, just sigh.

"Cool," you say, absolutely exhausted. "What is this? A long-lost soap opera reunion?"

Geto lets out a low chuckle. "Something like that," he hums, setting his tea down with elegant precision. "We're… old friends."

You know drama when you hear it.

“Old friends,” you repeat, skeptical. "Like actual old friends, or ‘we broke up and now we’re enemies who pretend not to care but totally do’?"

Gojo, without missing a beat, grins. “Oh, it’s the second one.”

Geto’s eye twitches.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

There’s a pause. The kind of silence thick with unspoken words and deep-seated resentment. The kind of silence that happens right before someone dramatically walks out of a family Thanksgiving dinner.

Naturally, Gojo—because he can’t handle silence like a normal person—fills it.

“Man, this really takes me back,” he says wistfully, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Us, standing together in a café, like old times—”

“We never did this,” Geto interrupts with an unimpressed expression.

“—Me, looking as handsome as ever,” Gojo continues, undeterred. “You, glaring at me because you can’t admit you miss me.”

Geto lets out the deepest, most suffering sigh you have ever heard. “I don’t.”

“Lies.”

You press a hand against your forehead. "I don’t get paid enough for this."

Unfortunately, Geto has now turned his hyper-critical stare back on you, and it is very much unwelcome.

"How pathetic," Geto murmurs, studying you like you’re some kind of pitiful lab rat trapped in the maze of capitalism. "To be stuck in such a miserable life."

You're too exhausted for whatever pretentious nonsense he’s about to drop. "I know you’re about to say some weird philosophical nonsense, and I do not have the mental capacity for it today."

Gojo snorts.

Geto tilts his head, smiling in that way that makes you feel like he thinks he’s playing some kind of intellectual chess match. You are, unfortunately, not interested in playing.

Choso, usually the embodiment of silent, looming presence, apparently hit his limit. Without hesitation, he stepped directly in front of you like he was personally responsible for your well-being, his posture stiff and protective, his face a masterpiece of disapproval. His expression was one part overprotective, three parts ready to physically launch a man through the nearest window.

"Do not insult the barista."

His voice was so serious, so weighted with dramatic intensity, that for a moment, the café itself seemed to still. Geto raised an eyebrow, vaguely intrigued. Yuji looked like he was about to pass out from the amount of secondhand embarrassment. Gojo’s grin stretched wider, already living for the drama.

You sighed, deeply accustomed to the daily horrors of customer service. "Choso, I literally get insulted daily. It’s fine."

"It is not fine," Choso insisted, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "You are valued."

There was a pause.

A long one.

You blink a few times.

Yuji made a noise. A high-pitched, inhuman noise that sounded like a balloon deflating in sheer disbelief.

Gojo clutched his chest, looking like he’d just witnessed the most beautiful love confession of the century.

Geto? Silent. Watching with rapt fascination, like a scientist observing a new species exhibit an unexpected behavior.

Meanwhile, you stared at Choso like he had just dramatically confessed his eternal devotion to a bag of expired croissants.

"I… okay," you said finally, unsure how to respond to this level of sincerity at nine in the morning. "…Thanks?"

Choso nodded, as solemn as ever. "You deserve respect."

Yuji, still desperately trying to process what was happening, let out a tiny, suffering groan, like his soul was actively exiting his body. "Choso, please. You can’t just—just declare things like that—"

"But it’s true, brother." Choso replied simply, as if that justified everything. "The barista is important."

Gojo, absolutely thriving on the chaos, turned to Geto with a shit-eating grin. "See, Suguru? That’s how you show appreciation. Unlike someone I know."

Geto ignored him, his eyes flickering between you and Choso with a quiet, analytical interest. He looked like he was filing this entire interaction away for later use, tucking it into some folder labeled: Barista-Choso Phenomenon. His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

"My, my," he mused, tilting his head. "How unexpectedly devoted."

Choso, ever the man of direct responses, stared him down. "I would kill you."

Yuji visibly malfunctioned. "CHO."

"Oh, this is interesting," Geto murmured, his eyes twinkling like he was delighted by this development. "Satoru, did you know your little friend here had such a strong sense of loyalty?"

Gojo, grinning like he just won the chaos lottery, threw an arm around Choso’s shoulders. "Oh, yeah. Big bro instincts. Real serious about them."

Choso immediately shrugged Gojo off like he was nothing more than an unwanted speck of dust.

Gojo dramatically clutched his chest, stumbling back. "Oof. Rejected. That one hurt."

You exhaled sharply, ready to throw all of them out. "Can we please get back to the part where I have a job and you are all customers and not—whatever the hell this is?"

Gojo clapped his hands together, bright as ever. "Okay! So! What’s my favorite barista been up to?"

You considered lying. Unfortunately, your reality was too bleak to sugarcoat.

"Oh, you know," you said, voice flat as a pancake. "The usual. Greg is definitely useless. A man tried to pay for his coffee with wisdom, which, fun fact, does not pay my rent."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "Shocking. Wisdom is worthless?"

"Yes," you deadpanned. "Turns out, landlords prefer actual money. Who knew?"

Gojo nodded, stroking his chin like an old wise sage reflecting on the tragedy of the modern world. "Late-stage capitalism. Terrible stuff."

"You don’t know the half of it," you muttered.

And then—because your suffering was never-ending—Greg the Manager wandered in from the back, looking just as dazed and blissfully unaware as ever.

"Yo," he greeted.

Geto’s nose wrinkled in visible disgust. His gaze flicked to you, then back to Greg, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely baffled that such a person existed.

“…Who is this?” Geto asked, his voice laced with pure judgment.

Greg, oblivious to the chaos around him and completely missing Geto's stare of disdain, stretched lazily. "The espresso machine started making weird noises again. It was, like, growling or something, so I put a sign on it."

Your eyes narrowed. "What kind of sign?"

Greg shrugged again. "You know. ‘Out of Order.’ But also, ‘Do Not Anger It.’ Just in case."

Geto slowly turned his head to you, processing this information. His expression was unreadable.

"…Your machine growls?" he asked, a little too intrigued.

You exhaled sharply. "It makes noises. But it’s not haunted."

Geto looked from the espresso machine, back to you, back to the espresso machine, like he was staring at a very stupid child.

"…You poor, oblivious fool."

Before you could fire back with peak sarcasm, the espresso machine let out an unholy screech that could only be described as a hundred lost souls wailing in agony.

The lights flickered violently.

Muffin Guy finally blinked.

Geto’s fingers stilled around his cup. His gaze flickered toward the espresso machine with genuine curiosity.

"Tell me," he said, tilting his head. "Do you ever feel like something is… watching you in this place?"

"Dude, I work in customer service. I feel eyes on me all the time."

Geto chuckled, seemingly amused by your suffering. "No, not customers. Something… else."

"Oh my god," you scoffed. "Are you also about to tell me the espresso machine is cursed?"

The espresso machine, as if personally offended, let out another deep, guttural groan. The lights dimmed.

You refused to react. This was just your life now.

Geto raised a single brow. "You don’t find that strange?"

You sighed and crossed your atms. "It just does that sometimes."

"Fascinating." Geto mused, though you had the sense that he was being condescending. He then turned to Gojo, still lounging near the counter. "Satoru, I have to ask. Why haven’t you exorcised that thing yet?"

Gojo grinned. "Hey, it’s part of our beloved minimum wage worker’s daily experience! It would be cruel to take away such an iconic workplace feature."

"Why does everyone keep making ominous comments about my espresso machine?!" you demanded. "It’s just a little broken!"

Greg the Manager nodded sagely and put his two cents in even though nobody asked. "Yeah. Just a little."

The espresso machine rattled violently.

Greg backpedaled. "Actually, maybe more than a little."

You caught Choso still glaring at Geto like he was actively plotting his downfall. Yuji, meanwhile, looked like he was actively trying to escape this awkward situation through sheer force of will.

And then—just when you thought it couldn’t get worse—Geto picked up his tea and walked straight to the nearest table.

And sat down.

And got comfortable.

Your stomach dropped.

"…You’re staying?" you asked, dreading the answer.

Geto sipped his tea, looking far too smug. "Oh, yes. I think I’ll linger."

You turned to Gojo, silently begging for intervention.

Gojo just grinned. "Oh, buddy. He’s a linger-er."

Your soul left your body.

Yuji, still tense, whispered to Choso, "Uh. We should probably go."

Choso crossed his arms. "Not until he leaves."

Geto, ever the bastard, smirked.

Yuji groaned, fully done with everything. "Oh my god. This is literally the worst possible dynamic."

It was.

It really, truly was.

And as you watched Geto settle in, taking in the café like he owned the place, you realized something horrifying:

Your life was about to get even worse.

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69 @luluminati @amortsukii-writes @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka

[mari-lair]

hello ! i love your fics and analysis! I was wondering which tbhk ships you think will become endgame?

Anon I have the most white bread of answers but since you asked-

1 - Hananene.

Nene starts the manga by wanting a date. It doesn't matter with who, any hot guy will do. She has many infatuations but isn't in love with anyone, she just want to be loved.

Nene has a lot of small character developments in different areas throughout the manga, but her strongest and most consistent change is her increasing love for Hanako and her acceptance of it.

She is still a girl with a ton of emotions, and she finds hot people attractive BUT now she want Hanako and only Hanako. She rejects everyone she used to have a crush on, there is no doki doki's when she gets the attention of pretty people cause they aren't the boys she wants attention from anymore.

Even Teru doesn't compare to Hanako. She went on a 'date' with him and felt more excited about bragging than the actual 'date'

AND SHE DID NOT BRAG when hanako got back, she just wanted to enjoy that he's back.

I don't even know why I am going so in dept on the couple stablished since chapter 1 but since i'm already rambling: Despite everything crazy going on in the festival NENE'S BIGGEST FOCUS WAS TO CONFESS TO HANAKO. That's something she thinks more about than her own death, like girl- Hanako is her whole world. She will not get a romance with another person.

There is the question of "Will Nene survive?"

If she doesn't, she'll disappear and have no boyfriend but I bet she'll be thinking about Hanako in her death. If she finds a way to become a supernatural in a very wild narrative choice she will be able to stay with hanako in their cursed eternity forever.

In the case she lives and Hanako gets exorcised she won't move on. Aidairo loves tragedies and obsessive love, so I can't see her approaching crushes with the same whimsy after her love dies. And Aidairo would likely preffer to make her suffer in her grief and longing than give her a rebound with some random guy, cause it sure won't be Kou.

2 - Mitsukou

My personal preferences aside, it is clear they are written to have romantic implications. Kou will either die with Mitsuba (As shown in the new timeline), and stay with him in death.

Or live to have an intense homoerotic 'friendship' with him.

He legit can't get mitsuba off his head, he thinks about him more than anything during the manga and he has A LOT of problems to think about.

I can't personally picture an explicit confession but we had a lot of equivalents already. It would be weird for Aidairo to send them to the aquarium, make Kou obsessed with mitsuba (and vise verse), show that they are 'very very close' in this new timeline, keep drawing them star-struck by each other and so on without romance in the head.

Kou is also never able to put his feelings into words, like, bro that's suspicious as hell.

They always get matching art with all the couples in Aidairo's twitter arts too.

That's not queerbaiting, they may not be explicit but by the lord they are not subtle at all, there is never a single "oh Mitsuba is like a brother to me" moment, they don't undo any of the gay implications we see, they double down on it.

Kou may be bi but it sure isn't the Nene route that Aidairo is playing.

3 - Aoikane

Akane has loved Aoi since he was a little kid. Waaaaaaay before he got a clock keeper contract.

He saw that Aoi cared so much about his opinion that she'd break out of her cold persona and burst into tears at the idea of being hated, and he locked in for life.

They are the codependent childhood friends troupe, the "I know you better than anyone" troupe, the "you are a part of my life I can't live without" troupe and they both love each other from the very start of the manga, not showing romantic interest in anyone else.

Nothing has made Akane change his mind about being with Aoi. Not being stabbed, not being rejected many times, not facing how bad aoi is at deling with her issues head on. He'll do anything for her time and time again.

in Akane's own words:

They had many build ups and a whole arc dedicated to their developments with each other (which is a lot considering they aren't main characters and Aoi usually get no focus in this manga.)

Narratively, it wouldn't make any sense to dedicate so many chapters pointing out how much they mean to each other and slowly working through their issues only to slap another ship at the end.

And is not like Aidairo said "They had their arc let's never talk about them again!", the author went out of her way to say "Even in a world where Aoi is in an arranged marriage, she still loves Akane"

They aren't subtle.

From the matching names, to the way they both crumble when they are separated from one another and keep thinking about marriage, they are very devoted. They have already explicitly confessed to the audience that they are in love with each other.

They'll either stay together forever or they'll die together.

[woongelaatin]

BROAD SHOULDERS TO HELP YOU P.SH

Pairing: Sungho x reader

Synopsis: whenever you need help, Sungho's always there for you.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, he's such a flirt here like!, pet names mentioned: (Yeppi, Cutie)

Word count: 409

Note: Sungho is so boyfriend coded bro he's literally my type (he's bias wrecking me so bad these days) (I have a long Sungho fic in my drafts lmao)

Going grocery shopping alone was one of the things you hate, mainly because you couldn't carry everything in one go. Sadly, you're sitting in your car in the driveway, with groceries in the trunk. You could call your boyfriend, but he left work a few hours ago, you didn't want to bother him. Looking at the rearview mirror, you sigh, deciding to suck it up and take the groceries yourself.

You get out of the car, walk to the back, and open the trunk. What made it worse is that you bought as twice as what you usually do, since you were planning a trip with Sungho. "Just when I need Sungho, he's not here to help me..." you mumble, not knowing that Sungho is in the living room, watching tv because he was able to get home early today.

You take two bags and walk up to the porch, and take your keys to unlock the door, but it was already unlocked. Walking inside you see Sungho on the couch, too focused on the show he's watching to notice you. The moment you see Sungho you cheer. "My prayers have been answered, my yeppi!" you run to him and you end up in his lap, hugging him.

"What made you so happy this time cutie? Did you miss me?" He teases, and you giggle. "Yes, I miss you and your broad shoulders, now help me with the groceries!" You stand up and go back to the car and Sungho follows you. You went through the bags and took one. "Can you carry everything else? You know how much I hate carrying these!" There was no need for you to ask him, he's already taking a few bags and walking back to inside.

After putting everything inside, you sit next to Sungho on the couch, his arm around you and your hands on his chest, watching the show he's watching. You look at him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Don't you think one peck on the cheek isn't enough after carrying all those bags of groceries?"

"You always help me just to get more kisses."

"It's a win-win situation, I get to help you, and you reward me with kisses."

Giggling at his response, you lean in and kiss him. Feeling his smile in the kiss makes you smile too. Knowing that he's always there to help you makes you feel like the luckiest girlfriend ever.

[snowseasonmademe]

Screaming like a bad dream

warning ‼️: smut

word count: 3,758

pairing: aurelien x black female reader

summary: a heated argument erupts into an intensely physical, emotionally charged encounter that leaves you completely wrecked, aching, and unwilling to even pick up your shoes afterward.

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt

@btslover117 @kennaskorner

@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas @amirawrah @simplementemeencantafutbol @kjlovesbigwilo

note: here’s a fic for my fellow sister wives! i tried to make this long because i like them 4,000+ words but my eyes were getting tired lol. it’s still good though😚! as always, enjoyed and tell me what you think. also if i forgot you in the tag list can you comment please, i think k i got everyone but idk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aurélien brought something out of you that most never got to see. He didn’t just bring out the freak in you—he unlocked her. That side of you, hidden beneath layers of polish, control, and perfectly curated social media posts, only ever came out for him. You never said it, but deep down you liked the twisted rhythm you two had. It was almost toxic… in the way cigarettes taste good to someone trying to quit.

You didn’t kiss unless you were fucking. That was the rule. Safety protocol. A barrier you both silently agreed to so you wouldn’t fall too deep. The only time he held your hand was when it was pinned to the bed. The only time he dropped the slick, teasing tone was when he was deep inside you, saying things that made your heart want things your mind couldn’t afford. Because if he ever talked to you like that in the daylight, you both knew… there’d be no turning back.

And now here you were, standing in your apartment already irritated, brushing gloss onto your lips while arguing with him over the phone.

“Just come get me. You asked me to come out and you don’t even fucking pick me up?!” you snapped, pacing slightly.

“I said come see me. I didn’t say I would come get you,” he replied, calm like he always was—too calm, and that made it worse.

You sucked your teeth. “You’re actually so fucking annoying, bro. You piss me off every day.”

There was a pause, and then a low chuckle through the speaker. “I must not piss you off that much. I was inside you two days ago.”

You stared at your screen like it insulted your whole bloodline before muttering, “Boy, get off my phone,” and hung up.

You exhaled slowly, trying not to throw your phone or your pride out the window. Rolling your eyes, you headed back to your closet. You grabbed the black sweatpants and the fitted black long-sleeve dress—the one that always made your ass sit right without screaming look at me. You never wore anything too extra around him. You hated being too dressed up when you knew you’d be too tired—or too fucked out—to undress yourself later. Thankfully, Aurélien had no problem handling that for you.

Your phone buzzed with a message:

Don’t get an uber. I will send someone for you.

You didn’t reply. You just narrowed your eyes at the screen like it owed you answers. How he gonna tell me to come to him, then send his driver? you thought. He’s so… difficult.

You checked your reflection. Your hair was tied into a low, messy bun—intentional, but not too perfect. You weren’t trying to make it last. You already knew it’d be ruined by the end of the night. A few tendrils framed your face, softening your look just enough. You sat on your couch, arms folded, feeling that familiar thrill start to build in your stomach.

You weren’t supposed to be doing this. That was half the point.

Your life had never been your own. Growing up as the daughter of an NBA Hall of Famer meant the spotlight had always followed you, uninvited. Then you built a name for yourself as a stylist to the stars—young, Black, powerful. You were your own brand. You’d mastered control, privacy, distance. But with Aurélien, it was the opposite. With him, you gave in. Not completely. Just enough to feel like you were still in charge. Just enough to taste freedom.

You liked him more than you admitted. But to be with him for real? That would require him to be… softer. Submissive, even. And that would never happen. He liked control just as much as you did. He liked your fire, your sharp tongue. He liked telling you to shut up and bend over. He liked seeing the challenge in your eyes before you let him win.

He’d been with girls before, sure. The kind that folded with a glance. You didn’t. You made him wait. You made him chase. And once he got you, he earned it. And he knew it. That’s what kept him coming back. That’s why this little “situation” worked. You both got what you needed: a friend who knew your body, a confidant who didn’t ask questions, and a secret you didn’t want to let go of.

Even if it was a bad dream. Even if you both knew there was no looking back once it went too far.

You got another text:

He’s outside. See you soon.

You scoffed at how dry he was being. No punctuation, no emoji, not even a goddamn “hey.” Just cold. You could practically hear the nonchalance in his tone, feel the shrug behind the words. He always got like this when you were mad at him—when you raised your voice, when you didn’t play it sweet. That little phone argument earlier must’ve really gotten under his skin.

You muttered a curse under your breath as you grabbed your spend-the-night bag—small, sleek, black leather with gold accents. You weren’t planning to actually spend the night, but you brought it every time just in case. Just in case you changed your mind. Just in case he asked you to stay. You blew out all the candles one by one, their soft light disappearing into the faint smoke trails curling toward the ceiling. The room smelled like the mix of sandalwood and vanilla you always lit when you were getting ready to see him. Familiar. Intimate. Almost too intimate.

Your sneakers echoed across the floor as you walked to the door, the cool metal of the handle biting into your palm as you swung it open. The black SUV sat idling in your driveway like a silent, brooding shadow. Its tinted windows made it impossible to see inside, but you felt the weight of being watched—always watched. The city night reflected off its polished surface like ink, broken only by the slow blink of turn signals.

You pulled the door open and slid in. The interior smelled like new leather and money—rich and sterile. The temperature was perfect: warm enough to relax you, cool enough to keep you from sinking too far into sleep. The darkness inside was comfortable, almost luxurious.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the driver said in a thick Spanish accent, glancing back at you through the rearview mirror. His voice was deep and polite.

“Would you like some music?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

He tapped something on the dash, and the speakers hummed to life with the low, gritty voice of a French rapper you didn’t recognize. It sounded like Bobby Shmurda if he’d been born in Paris—rough, melodic, moody. The bass rolled through the car like a lullaby. You melted into the seat, arms crossed, head tilted back. The engine purred beneath you, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes drifted shut.

You only stirred when you felt a familiar touch. Fingers, large and warm, skating down your forearm with an unhurried softness.

“Y/N,” Aurélien’s voice said close to your ear, accented and low, like he didn’t want to wake you too suddenly. “You’re here. Wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you saw was his torso—tight black shirt clinging to muscle and warmth. He looked down at you, no smirk, no playfulness. Just… him. Still. Waiting.

You stretched, just a little, and let your hand slide into his. Your fingers found his without thinking, and the way he held you was steady but casual. Like he wasn’t trying to be sweet but couldn’t help it. You leaned into his side as he guided you out of the SUV, one hand still holding yours, the other gripping your bag. You didn’t even try to stand up straight—you let him support you, let your cheek rest against his chest.

His scent hit you full force—clean skin, faint cologne, the trace of something spicy and masculine. It cleared the fog from your head instantly.

“You want to go back home?” he asked, genuine concern hiding under his usual detachment. “You seem tired.”

He wasn’t offering to let you stay. That wasn’t what you two did.

“No,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You straightened up and looked at him, suddenly annoyed again. Remembering the shit he pulled earlier. The way he made you call him, then argued about who should pick who up like it was your privilege to come to him.

You followed him inside, through the wide glass doors and into the living room. You kicked off your shoes at the edge of the carpet, out of respect. No shoes in the house—always. You hated that you still respected the little rules, even when you were mad.

The place looked different. Sleeker. Cleaner. No more tacky bachelor pad vibes. Thank God. The cold, empty luxury was replaced by softer lighting, darker wood tones, thicker rugs. You noticed the piano in the corner behind you. He ate you out on that once—your back arched on the keys, the sound of moaning and music colliding. The glass doors led to the pool outside. He fucked you against the edge months ago, the water barely muffling your cries. Right in front of you—the floor—he had your legs so far apart you walked like a newborn deer for three days.

The thunk of your bag hitting the floor snapped you out of your daze.

“If you’re gonna be a bitch all night, can you at least be gentle with my bag?” you said without turning around. “There’s expensive shit in there.”

“I can buy fifty more of whatever have in there,” he muttered as he circled the couch and dropped into the seat next to you.

He reached for your foot to pull it into his lap like he always did, but you snatched it away before he could. “Don’t touch me.”

He sucked his teeth, rolled his eyes, and stood up without a word. Walked straight to his room and didn’t look back.

You blinked. What the fuck?

You weren’t having it.

You got up, your steps quick and heavy, and followed him down the hall. He was on his bed already, laid out across it like a painting, phone in hand, ignoring your presence completely.

“What the hell did you bring me here for?” you snapped. “I could’ve stayed home.”

“You should’ve,” he said calmly, eyes glued to the screen. “If you were going to come just to act like that.”

You stared at him, stunned. He knew you hated when people didn’t look you in the eye. You reached over and grabbed his phone, tossing it toward the foot of the bed with a controlled aggression that said you were one second from losing it.

He looked at you. Unamused.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t do that.”

“No. YOU don’t do that.” Your voice rose as you poked his chest. “I didn’t have to come here. You wanted to see me. You practically begged me. Now you’re acting like you don’t miss me? I know you do. You know what I came here for. So stop playing.”

“You said not to touch you. So I won’t. That’s what you want, right?”

The calmness in his voice was infuriating. You laughed bitterly.

“You know what? I’m not doing this with you tonight. I’m gonna shower and go.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned and stormed back to the living room, grabbed your bag, and headed for the guest bathroom. The hallway was too quiet, your feet the only sound echoing through the space. You shut the door behind you, tossed your bag on the counter, and turned the water on hot.

The steam rose fast. You peeled your clothes off slowly, muttering under your breath.

“I could be in bed with my cats right now… he pisses me off with that sexy ass accent. Always trying to argue, like that shit’s foreplay.”

You stepped into the shower, careful to keep your hair dry. It wasn’t wash day and you weren’t about to ruin a fresh silk press over him. You let the water roll over your body, easing the tension out of your shoulders, your back, your thighs.

You stood there, breathing. Finally calm. Finally quiet.

Then you felt it—strong arms circling your waist from behind.

You gasped, startled. “What the fuck—”

Before you could finish the sentence, his mouth was on your neck, warm and possessive. His lips found that one spot that made your knees buckle, the one he always kissed when he was trying to say sorry without words.

You moaned—loud, guttural, like the sound had been yanked out of you with no warning. Your fingers, still wet and shaky from rinsing conditioner out of your hair, scrambled behind you until they found skin. Muscle. Him. You grabbed at whatever you could—his wrist, his forearm, the wide stretch of his thigh pressed against your backside like a brand. Your nails scraped down the hard slope of his abs, then latched onto his waist like you were trying to anchor yourself in the middle of a storm.

Your legs parted like they were wired to his pulse instead of your brain. You didn’t even realize you were doing it—didn’t feel the cold tile or the slippery floor beneath your feet. All you felt was him: the steady heat of his chest flush against your back, the steam curling between you like sweat, and the way his dick—hard and thick and angry—pressed against the small of your spine, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t have something to say—you had plenty—but because the way he gripped your hips shut you up faster than any insult could. His palms were hot, fingers digging into your sides like they were molded to fit there, like they owned that part of you. You felt the first brush of his lips on your neck—light, taunting—before his teeth followed. He bit down just enough to make you gasp.

And it wasn’t just sex.

It was payback. For the way you rolled your eyes at him earlier. For that slick shit you said before storming into the bathroom. For daring to act like you weren’t about to let him fuck you stupid the second he touched you.

He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. His silence roared. It throbbed. It clung to your skin louder than the water hitting your shoulders. The tension was animal. Ferocious. And then his hand slid down your body with a brutal kind of grace, like he’d been waiting for the perfect second to make you fall apart.

His middle finger found your clit like it lived there—zero hesitation. Just heat and friction and control. He didn’t tease. He didn’t check. He already knew. He made tight, hard circles like he was tuning you up—getting you ready to sing. Your moan hit the wall so hard it bounced back into your ears.

“Aurélien—fuck—” you gasped, hips jerking.

“Don’t speak,” he hissed, his voice a growl against the shell of your ear. His tone was sharp—mean. But his breath was hot, ragged. Desperate.

That voice—low and brutal and breathless—tore through your spine like it was dragging claws down your nerves. And God, it made you wetter. It was embarrassing how fast you soaked his hand, how quick your knees buckled the second his fingers pushed past your folds. You were already dripping down your thighs—dripping—and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

He slid two fingers into you like he was angry at how easy it was. Like your body was the one betraying you. They went in all the way to the knuckle, stretching you open with that thick, perfect pressure that always made your eyes roll back. You moaned again—no words, just a sound dragged from the bottom of your gut.

Your hand shot out, slapped against the wall for balance. Your other hand reached back blindly to grab his wrist. You weren’t trying to stop him. You just needed something to hold onto before your legs gave out.

“F-fuck—wait—ugh—” you whimpered, voice cracking.

“I said don’t talk,” he snapped again, and this time, he grabbed your jaw with his free hand and shoved two wet fingers between your lips. You gagged slightly, but you took them anyway. You always did.

“Mmhmm, Elle est là” he said quietly (There she is)

You sucked, desperate and messy. Tasted yourself. Swallowed like it would keep you grounded. It didn’t. He had you teetering on the edge of consciousness—and all he was using were his fingers.

He moved them inside you like he was marking territory. Not slow and sweet—deep and deliberate. Curling. Stroking that spot that made your thighs shake and your eyes water. Your moans vibrated around his fingers, and he smirked behind you like he could hear every sound you tried to muffle.

Then—without warning—he pulled them out. Your pussy clenched at the sudden emptiness. You sobbed, not even realizing it.

He didn’t give you time to recover. He spun you around, eyes wild and unreadable, and shoved you up against the wall so fast your breath flew out of your chest. You barely managed to gasp before his mouth crashed into your nipple. Devoured it. Tongue flicking, teeth grazing, sucking like he was starved and you were the only thing left to eat.

Your legs lifted without him asking. Wrapped around his waist. Locked at the ankles like muscle memory. His hands slid under your ass, lifted you like you were nothing. Like you belonged there.

And then—then—he pushed in.

One long, thick, ruthless thrust. You screamed. Screamed. Not a cute little moan. Not a whimper. A scream that rattled out of your chest like it’d been clawing to escape. Your back arched hard. Your nails raked down his shoulders. Your whole body lit up like a live wire.

He groaned—deep and low and filthy—his breath hot on your neck. His dick felt like it was carved just for you. He filled you in a way that made no damn sense. Too much. Too perfect. Every time he bottomed out, it felt like he was fucking your soul loose.

He pulled back slow—teasingly slow—just to slam back in hard enough to make your vision flicker. Your head hit the wall. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out. You were speechless. Useless. Just a vessel for his frustration. His hunger. His claim.

He was talking now. Low. Rough. Each word dropped like a hammer.

“Thought you were done with me?”

Thrust.

“Thought you could walk away?”

Thrust.

“Say one more word, I swear to God—”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

You cried out, clawed at his back, gripped his shoulders like they were lifelines.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he snarled against your neck.

He angled his hips just slightly—and there it was. That perfect spot. That maddening, bliss-drenched, nerve-shattering spot that made your legs shake and your walls clamp down like a vise.

You broke.

You fucking broke.

Your orgasm hit like a brick through glass. No build-up. No warning. Just boom—your body locking up, your muscles convulsing, your voice cracking into a shattered, stuttering scream. You clenched around him so hard he grunted, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he chased his own release.

He kept going. Kept fucking you through it, like he was addicted to the way you broke down around him. Like he needed it to finish. And when he finally did—when he let out that last, ragged groan and flooded you with heat—you swore your heart stopped.

You didn’t remember the next few minutes. Maybe not even the next hour.

Everything after your release blurred—your body weightless, vision flickering between dark and light like your mind was struggling to stay in your skin. You remembered how your legs stopped working, trembling so hard beneath you that they gave out completely. You didn’t fall, though. His arms were already there, sliding under your thighs and across your back like instinct. Like muscle memory. He lifted you like he always did after—like you were his. Cradled you against his chest like something precious and messy all at once.

Your lips pressed to the slope of his neck, too dazed to kiss, too gone to hold back. You just stayed there, breathing him in. The sharp tang of his cologne clung to the steam, mixing with the clean sweat still cooling on his skin. You could taste salt on your tongue. Hear nothing but the faint gurgle of the water draining behind you and the wet squelch of his feet against the tile.

Then softness. A towel—thick, warm, pulled around your body as he settled you gently onto the edge of the counter. He rubbed the terry cloth against your skin with care, patting between your thighs, behind your neck, across your shoulders. His fingertips brushed over the welts and tremors he’d left behind, as if trying to soothe the very chaos he’d created. He didn’t speak. Neither did you.

The silence was a blanket. Heavy. Intimate. Almost holy.

Your cheek found his chest again, drawn to the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your skin. His heart beat slow and low in your ear, anchoring you. It made you want to cry. Or maybe come again.

Time disappeared inside that stillness.

And then: the sharp, cold brightness of your phone screen breaking through the dark like a slap.

You didn’t remember picking it up. Didn’t even realize it was in your hand until the glow seared your sore, half-closed eyes. You blinked at the message, your vision slow to focus.

Left your shoes here. Come get them if you don’t bring that attitude.

Your throat was raw. Like you’d screamed through fire. Your body ached like it had been worshipped and wrecked. Every limb buzzed and throbbed, your muscles sore in places you forgot could hurt. But your pussy—God. Your pussy ached in the best, filthiest way. Tender and swollen and satisfied in a way that was almost obscene. You felt the faintest pulse between your legs and had to close your eyes to keep from moaning.

You groaned out loud and let the phone fall to your stomach with a dull thud. Your fingers were too limp to grip it anymore, anyway.

Your head lolled back onto the pillow as you exhaled slow, deep, and sore.

There was no fucking way you were going back for those shoes anytime soon. He could keep them. Bronze them. Build a shrine around them for all you cared.

[tiredfox64]

Hellooo! First of all, I love your fics, especially Tomas's. They are very entertaining and the way you write is just great ^^

This is more of a question than a request, although you can develop it further if you want.

How would the linkuei trio react to a s/o who says "I hate men... except you"

It came to me out of nowhere and I thought it was funny 🙃

There Are Exceptions

Prior notes: Hehehe I throughly enjoyed writing this. Also I forgot to say this with other people’s requests who gave me compliments but thank you so much for liking my writing! (*´∀｀*)

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Men

Bi-Han

These dim witted, nitwit goobers who serve your husband are too much to handle. All they know how to do is punch and kick. They have no other survival instincts that can save their asses.

It’s so tiring being the one to try to help them with whatever. A woman can only do so much.

You tried teaching them how to sew only for them to say something stupid like it’s a woman’s hobby. Forget about cooking. You have never seen someone screw up scramble eggs so much that it doesn’t even form. How the fuck does it stay watery? And why are you the only one who knows how to fold clothes? Screw steaming out their wrinkles.

Your last straw today came in the nighttime when one of the clansmen came up to you and ask the most stupidest question you have ever heard.

“Uhm, some of the men were telling me that a woman’s period was when she peels her skin every month. Is that true? Cause if it is you hide it well.” This clueless assassin…oh goodness.

You just stared blankly at the young man. It had to be a joke, right? They can’t be that stupid. Actually, you don’t want to know if they are that stupid. You walked away briskly with one thing on your mind and you had to shout it out. The moment you walk into your bedroom you slammed the door shut and screamed,

“I hate men!”

Bi-Han was already in bed, waiting for you to come around. He stared at you with that grumpy expression he always has before folding his arms in front of his chest. A low grumble was being emitted by him.

How can you say you hate men when you are married to one? One that treats you like the queen you are considered you are the grandmaster’s wife. He is also one who pleasures you till you are fully satisfied. Course, it’s more like you have to go on until he is satisfied.

“…except you.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I should be the exception here. I am the grandmaster, I deserve your full respect.” Bi-Han reminded you of his role as if he doesn’t do so every day.

“And you are also my husband,” you walked up to him and placed a kiss on his forehead, “Now would you mind spooning me for tonight.”

“After that outburst, I am unsure if you deserve it.” Now he’s just being petty.

You pouted as you changed into your sleepwear. If Bi-Han looked for at least five seconds he would have caved. But he looked away immediately to prevent himself from changing his decision. You huffed as you slipped into bed. You went on your side and pretended like you didn’t care. You did because you always lost the idgaf war.

“Please, I love you.” You said over your shoulder.

Bi-Han let out a groan before turning over and wrapping his arms around your waist. Haha you win.

You may not like men but you love this man. You like this man because he’s your man.

Kuai Liang

Why does no one think of the logical answer to something?

You go out to the market all the time so you could help feed the Shirai Ryu. It helps lessen responsibilities for your husband. But even this simple task is made difficult and stupid because of some of the venders. More specifically the men.

You asked for watermelon and they hand you plastic containers with the funkiest bits of watermelon. They are discolored and are definitely past their ripeness. Yet they all tell you it’s fine. It’s not fine! It’s not good quality! Why even cut the watermelon in the first place you can do it yourself!

You want some mangos? Well you can’t fucking have any because they don’t got it. Oh what’s that? A BUNCH OF FUCKING MANGOS RIGHT BEHIND THEM! And they tell you that those are honey mangoes you didn’t specifically ask for those. They told you no because they thought you wanted Haden mangoes. Just give the woman a fucking mango!

You’re so over those male venders. They never even help you pack the carts up.

You’re too tired went you get back to the temple. You let everyone else pack the food away without helping out this time. You can’t be bothered. You take your shoes off, step into the temple, and sigh heavily.

“I hate men.” You groaned.

You didn’t realize Kuai Liang was coming up to you to greet you. You looked up and saw his face. He stared blankly with a bit of concern.

“…except you.”

You wanted to make it right so you ran up to him, giving him many kisses and hugging him.

“What has made you so hateful, my love? Did someone at the market bother you?” He asked with concern.

Kuai Liang was not at all mad at what you said. He found it odd which meant there was something wrong. His hands went up to check if maybe it was something physical. He would hate to find out you were hurt while out. What kind of husband would he be if he can’t protect his wife?

“Many people bothered me at the market today. Some people are unfortunate stupid.” You replied.

“Perhaps you can tell me all about it in bed. I’ll make you some tea to help with the stress.” He took your hands as you both walked to the bedroom.

Kuai Liang is the kind of man you need in your life. If only the men at the market had his intelligence. Though you do like being cared for when there is any sign of distress from you. It makes you feel like a princess.

Tomas

To help train the Earthrealm champions is like trying to train a seal, a kangaroo, a bison, and a Komodo dragon to leap at least a meter out of the water. One will succeed, another will jump but not reach it, another one won’t try to jump, and the other will be too busy trying to mate with you.

They are all nice in their own way but Johnny is the worst of them all. You tell him you are happily married and it’s in one ear and out the other. Just because his marriage failed doesn’t mean yours has to.

Kenshi is alright he just has stubborn. He believes it’s nerves that wins fights. If that were true why does he keep failing to you. And when he is not going against you he’s going after Johnny’s throat. You get it, Johnny won’t give back Sento. But now is not the time to bust his ass.

Kung Lao just gets on everyone’s nerves. You have never seen a bunch of monks ready to implode and strangle someone. Don’t forget that you almost lost your head because he flung his hat in the wrong direction. All you got back was a small ‘sorry’ before he took his hat and ran off.

And Raiden…he’s fine. He’s done no wrong.

Yet no matter what you always have to return and help the fools. You give and give and what do you receive? Hell!

You are exhausted when you return home. You don’t talk to anyone you just go straight to your bedroom. You let out a groan the whole time and when the door closes you let that groan become words.

“I hate men.”

Tomas was already waiting for you in the bedroom. He was walking up to you to hug you until he heard those words. He looked concerned and even a little sad.

Well he’s a man, do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He hopes he didn’t, he doesn’t want an unhappy wife.

Your attitude immediately went away at the sight of Tomas.

“…except you.”

You ran into his arms and hugged him tight. You could never hate a man like Tomas. He is your husband after all. You picked a good one compared to all the other men that you have seen.

“I’m guessing they upset you again.” He asked.

You nodded. The day is already over you don’t feel like talking about every single stupid thing that they did. Tomas understood and hugged you tight.

“Do you want me to beat them up?” He whispered jokingly in your ear.

For once today you laughed. He always manages to bring a smile to your face. You wish you could let him but that would be a bad decision. Though it’s funny to think about. He was just happy to hear that wonderful laugh of yours. It just shows that he’s a good man to you. He can turn a frown upside down and make you see the good in men. Or at least the good in him.

After notes: Can you tell I got pissed off with Kuai Liang’s part? That shits a little too true. Those instacart tik toks be crazy. Here’s a little experience of when I hated men: one didn’t take no for an answer for YEARS. He still can’t take no even from other girls. But most of the men I know are good. Alright enough yip yap I must march on. Adiós!

[the-record]

CASUAL.

SUMMARY: you want all of her, but abby only wants a friend

PAIRING: college!fwb!abby anderson x reader

A/N: i hate this a little but this is for the person who wanted a casual fic under the abby tag this is for u 💋💋 ur genius bc yes i love abby&casual&chappell so yes here

my masterlist

‘ I’M JUST A GIRL THAT YOU BANG ON YOUR COUCH ’

abby: babyyyyyyyt

abby: when ate you cming overrrrrrtt

angel: when you’re sober!

abby: boooooooooooooooooo

angel: i can come over tomorrow, i work tn anyways

abby: fine

abby: miss u

angel: miss u too babes

“you’re still with her?” dina asks while she reads over your shoulder. “didn’t she ghost you and come back like nothing happened?”

your thumb locks your phone as you turn it over on your lap. “so?” you turn to face the brunette, “its nothing serious anyways.” you have to defend yourself against dina and her girlfriend, ellie, way too often.

“tell that to angel three weeks ago crying in my apartment.” ellie piped up. “we’re just trying to be good friends.”

dina wraps her arms around your shoulders as you turn back around. “exactly babes, we love you.”

“whatever.”

you’re both quiet. an artist you dont know sings soft words while crickets harmonize. abby’s fingers run up and down your bare back and yours tangle in her hair. usually, the girl has an ample amount of topics to bring up, but tonight the jar runs empty.

“what are we?” you question. abby’s hand slows before settling on your lower back, toying with the band of her boxers that you wear.

she sighs before answering, thinking about what to say. “friends?” you snort in response. “i don’t know, i told you i wasn’t ready for anything serious right now. you knew what you were getting into.”

you push off of her and sit up with a soft groan. her room is dark but you’re able to find the tee you wore when you came over. the girl reaches for your hand but you pull away.

“i’m going home for the weekend, if you want to come with.” she smiles when she sees one pull at your face first. “it’ll be fun, a couple days away to seattle? hm?”

you face the blonde, now propped up on her forearm, a tousled braid over her naked shoulder. you give in so easy. especially when her lips find yours.

angel: can someone feed alice for me this weekend?

dina: yea ofc

angel: thanks hon

ellie: why cant u? wya

angel: going out of town :)))

ellie: with?

dina: stop interrogating her babe

ellie: no no

ellie: angel who and where

angel: seattle

dina: with who

angel: werent u on my side????

ellie: BRO

ellie: NO CHANCE OMFG

dina: angel dont omf

angel: i didnt even say who??????????????

ellie: ur so guility

angel: and youre so illiterate “guility”

dina: so defensive holy shit

dina: omg u are going with her

angel: omfg get off my dick

ellie: u literally never listen dude

angel: says u

ellie: tf does that mean

angel: cat?

dina: angel wtf thats low

ellie: ykw

ellie: she literally has a new girl every weekend

ellie: you’re just another fwb girl and u know it

ellie: have fun in seattle.

angel: i will thx xoxo.

her dad is sweet, a surgeon as abby brags. you can tell they’re close. he is observant and does his best to make you comfortable. their home is cozy, fireplaces with incredibly old family photos on the mantle. her senior portraits are hung in the staircase. you learn a million and one things about her on the trip.

she loves blue. big hiker. could play board and card games all day. doesn’t love to smoke. she hasn’t changed her room since the 6th grade. they can make a mean chocolate chip cookie.

you learn one that stays in the front of your mind during breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and the car ride home.

“this is all just casual right? you dont actually have feelings? okay good, as long as we’re on the same page.”

when you come home, ellie ignores you as she moves around cleaning the dinner mess in the kitchen. when dina asks how the trip was, you leave out one small part.

“it was great. we went on an amazing hike and her dad is so kind, i had a lot of fun.”

she offers dinner bur you kindly deny, saying you were tired from the drive and just needed sleep. she smiled and sent you off with a quick hug and an ‘i love you’.

you continue to see abby.

she’s softer and kinder after that weekend. she kisses gently and sweetly. she takes you out on dates. you call her name in the passenger seat of her truck in a field in the middle of nowhere. it’s different now.

you don’t tell dina or ellie.

abby’s name is brought up less when people gossip over who’s with who. you hear less of her rendezvous’ with other girls. less and less until it stops.

you ignore your feelings and enjoy the warmth of her while you still have the chance. her dad invites you back and you spend many weekends with the two, laughing and drinking wine on the couch. she sits behind you on the couch while you watch a cheesy rom-com, making fun of the cliches with you. many smiles shared and laughs sung.

your favorite sleep shirt stays at her place. her favorite hoodie is hung in your closet.

when you go out with her friends she drinks and teases you in front of them. your cheeks warm, you excuse yourself and she always finds you in the bathroom. an apology and kiss lead to more.

ellie slowly forgives you, you all hang out as friends again.

her dad says he thinks of you as his daughter.

abby says she thinks of you as a friend.

angel: we need to talk

abby: woah sounds serious lol

angel: yes it is to me

abby: yea, okay. ill be over tn?

angel: okay, lmk ill unlock the door.

abby: see u baby

angel: see u

abby knocks, she always does.

abby smiles and sits on the edge of your bed.

abby shakes her head when you start to talk.

you can’t do this anymore. “i’m done abby. we’re done.”

shes confused though, “what do you mean? i thought we have fun.”

and you do, shes not wrong. but you have fun as ‘friends’ and not lovers. you hold her as a friend. you kiss, and make love, and drink, and laugh, together, as friends.

“i told you i didn’t want a relationship!” she counters. abby stands and grabs your hands. “i wasn’t ready, you cant be mad at that.”

you smile and shake your head. “im not mad, im just over it. i want more. a label, a sense of security abby.” you sit and pull her down with you. “i dont want casual.”

when she leaves you finally open up to dina and ellie. they’re quiet, but its comfortable as you speak and they understand.

abby texts an apology that night and you react to it, a heart.

when she texts again you don’t answer.

‘ I HATE THAT I LET THIS DRAG ON SO LONG

NOW I HATE MYSELF ’

[rinhaler]

TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES

CHAPTER SUMMARY: It's Chigiri's birthday and everyone decides it's a perfect day to go to the nearby village to shop for secret santa gifts! Will you be able to get through one day without bickering with your ex?

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, hate sex? + love making, dry humping, mutual pining, no prep, vaginal sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering, oral, mattress humping, tit sucking, multiple rounds?, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, dacryphilia, pet names (princess, baby).

WORDS : 12.2k

notes : It's MY birthday too btw hehe wanted Chigiri to be the readers bestie bc he's my birthday twin oops enjoy the fic tho ♡

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Daybreak filters through the window as your eyes begrudgingly flutter open. It seems like both you and Chigiri had forgotten to close the curtains before you passed out drunk and stoned. The mattress beneath you feels like a cloud as you stretch out; your hand comes into contact with cold, fair skin.

You blink the sleep from your eyes when you recall that Hyoma seldom sleeps without a shirt.

And your blood runs cold.

It all comes rushing back to you, then. That crushing conversation with Rin you’d had last night that made you sob and search for your best friend, leaving him alone so you could preserve his enjoyment of the evening.

“Eita.” you whisper, attempting to shake him awake.

He knocked on your door, offered you weed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to decline. Not when you were so lonely, so filled with envy and loathing as you dredged over each painful word your ex shared with you on his balcony.

“Mmpf, w’time is it?” Eita grumbles, feeling around for his phone until he finds it. “Eugh, it’s so early…”

“You have to go.” you tell him, lightly slapping him until he pays attention to you. You get out of bed and are met with the freezing air filling the room. He doesn’t listen, but he watches you with one eye slightly open as you rush to turn on the heater to warm up the room. You freeze as you look at him again, wondering why he’s shirtless if it’s so cold. “Eita… did we…”

“Mm.” he grunts, closing his eyes again. You jump onto the mattress beside him, really shaking him so he can’t possibly ignore you. “Woah, what is it?”

“We fucked?” you ask him, panicking.

“No way.” he shakes his head. “Don’t fuck drunk ‘n high girls.” he assures you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you lie back beside him. It’s stupid to worry about Rin anymore, but you can’t help it. He said he wouldn’t care if you fucked the whole house, but did he really mean it? It seems like a violation, to you, breaking bro code or something. And, honestly, you don’t think it would reflect well on you either.

The last thing you wanted to do was cause an uproar when you’re here for a few more days.

“Eita? What happened last night?” you wonder, quietly, unsure if you want the answer.

You might not have had sex, but that doesn’t mean something else didn’t happen. If you kissed, you certainly don’t remember it. The possibilities are endless, and it makes your blood reach the same chilling temperature that fills the room.

“We jus’ smoked, baby,” he tells you, rolling over on his stomach to look at you. He’s pretty, like this. He’s pretty anyway. But the pinks and yellows breaching through the blinds softens him immensely. “You cried a lot. About Rin. ‘n then you passed out.” he closes his eyes to sleep some more.

How utterly humiliating.

Though you don’t really have time to dwell as you see him trying to sneakily sleep beside you again. You lightly tap his face, yanking the duvet away from him to reveal his toned back muscles.

He’s still wearing his jeans from the party.

“I don’t know where Chigiri is, but if anyone sees you in here, they’re gonna get the wrong idea,” you whisper, and he grunts. He takes his time, but eventually, gets up in search of his shirt and shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles back at you over his shoulder as he shoves his feet into his sneakers. “You want Rin back, yeah?”

“I—” you hesitate. Do you want him back? You still stand by the reasons you decided to end things, after all. But so many feelings have come rushing back since seeing him in the flesh again. You were missing him already before you even got here. And now, you’re so close but so far. And even further now that he’s seeing someone new.

Do you really want him back?

Or do you just want what you can’t have?

“Either way, you don’t need me right now.” he tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. “Your loss, by the way.” he laughs.

“Hah, really?” you laugh too.

“Big time, I’m definitely a better fuck than Itoshi. Both of them,” he winks, biting his lip before heading for the door. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.” he salutes before sneaking out and shutting the door behind him.

The cold air hits you like a brick as you run to lock the door after him, but you hurry back to warmth soon after. You starfish in the bed when you realise you have the space to yourself again, and your eyes slowly close. A few more minutes sleep won’t hurt, right? No one else seems to be awake yet.

He didn’t even tell you what time it is.

You roll over and grab your phone from the side table and wince when you see that it’s only 8am. It’s sickening, so much so that you practically throw your phone back down and get in a comfortable position to sleep.

It’s short lived, though, you get fifteen minutes of resting your eyes at most before you hear knocking at the door.

It makes you grumble, like a man. Like your dad specifically. It horrifies you enough to make you stir and clamber out of bed. It’s grotesque, you think, inheriting such an uncouth trait.

You’ll have to train yourself out of it.

You unlock the door, and you aren’t sure why you’re surprised to see Chigiri step through. He stares at you silently as you lock the door again, he doesn’t even follow you into bed when you cover your barely clothed limbs.

“Something happened last night.” he tells you, looking worried.

“What?” you wonder. “What did you do?”

He looks so serious, and it makes your heart race. Did you do something embarrassing? Probably, but that isn’t anything new. His silence makes your body flush with warmth. The nerves and anxiety you feel begin to course through every nerve ending you possess, and soon enough you’re throwing the blankets away from your body.

He looks into your eyes before thinking about what he should say. And after losing all composure, he starts laughing. “Nothing, just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for a second.” he smirks, “You do that shit everyday? Exhausting.”

“You’re such a dick.” you chastise him, getting comfy in the bed again. And now, finally, he joins you. “Have you got a hangover?”

“Big time.” he tells you. You grab some painkillers from your side table and pop out enough from the silvery film for you and Chigiri to consume. “Something happened last night, right?” he asks.

“Don’t get me started.” you sigh.

“I came up here to come to bed, the door was locked.” he tells you, “So I woke up with Tabito on the couch, Sae on the floor and Oliver on the coffee table.”

You laugh, rolling on your side so you can face each other and gossip. The state everyone is in today is no surprise. Though you suspect the only one not nursing a hangover is probably Rin. You didn’t see him drink all that much, and he doesn’t get high.

He’s probably doing his morning routine right now.

A routine he got you into when you first started dating. You wanted to impress him, after all. But his yoga routines are far out of your league. You used to end up giggling on your back after a fall while he laughed along with you.

But you liked doing the meditation afterwards.

“Rin almost kissed me last night, I think…” you contemplate it, though you admittedly aren’t sure if it’s a fabrication. “It was really intense, but he rejected me.”

“Damn.” he replies, “Wait, so you were in here alone? Why did you lock the door?!”

“Eita spent the night…” you sigh, covering your face with your pillow. Chigiri teases you, trying to pull it away to inspect your facial expressions. He’s laughing, loudly, unable to believe what he’s hearing. “He told me that we just got high, and I cried about Rin.” you confess.

“You are floundering.” he tells you, and you nod. “He’s into you, you’re into him, Ryusei made him sound like a major player so he’s probably a good fuck. Rin gave you your answer, you should have sealed the deal!” he continues, and all you can do is groan. Because he’s right.

How long is it going to take to get over Rin, anyway? Why should you spare his feelings when he clearly has no desire to do the same for you?

Eita isn’t what you want right now, though.

His pretty face and his alleged impeccable stroke game isn’t going to change that.

“Rin was jealous last night.” Chigiri admits, and it grabs your attention instantly. “Ryusei was, too. But Rin was really jealous.”

“Really?”

He nods, “When you were dancing with Eita, I was trying to keep an eye on him.” you get comfortable and make full eye contact with him again as he speaks. “While we were playing never have I ever, too. When Eita and Oliver were all over you, he looked pissed.”

“Interesting…”

“His girlfriend’s gotta be a rebound.” he theorizes, and for whatever reason, it gives you chills. Both of your eyes widen at the same time, and no doubt you’ve arrived at the same idea. “We need to get more info.”

“Ryusei wants to talk to me at some point, I’ll ask him.” you tell Hyoma, and he nods, concurring that it’s a good idea. “You need to talk to Sae. He might know something.”

“He didn’t even know Rin was coming,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, but relents. “Fine.”

The two of you go downstairs, surprisingly greeted by everyone else. Everyone’s crowded around the kitchen island again. The smell of bacon, eggs and toast floods your nostrils as you descend and reach the kitchen.

You sit in between Oliver and Chigiri, the former not paying you too much attention other than a polite hello. Ryusei catches your eye as he tilts his head, waving when you finally make eye contact. His face looks serious, intentional, he’s waiting for that talk you silently agreed to.

“Surprised you’re cooking for us all, Rin.” Hyoma speaks, resting his elbow on the countertop before settling his head in his hand.

“Yeah, well,” he speaks quietly but with a slight gruffness. “It’s fine.”

He carefully sets down two plates in front of you all. Eita and Ryusei are already eating, so Oliver reaches for the nearest plate. Rin scowls at him, harshly trapping his hand between the plate and the spatula he’s holding.

“That’s not for you.” Rin tells him, and he moves his hand. You watch him as he pushes the plate in your direction, looking at you briefly before he looks back at Oliver. “Here.” he continues, pushing the other plate towards his hungry friend.

Hyoma is thankful that Rin seems too preoccupied trying to shield his face from you to notice how his eyes have widened and he can’t control the smirk on his face. You haven’t noticed, either, but Sae raises a suspicious eyebrow as he looks at your best friend. Though, luckily, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look down at the plate, realising why he wanted you to have this plate. He’s cut your toast into triangles how he knows you like, and they are the perfect shade of golden brown with butter dreamily melting into it. He cut the fat off your bacon and fried it until it was crispy.

You look at Oliver’s plate, seeing how little care have gone into the eggs. The yolks are messy and broken, whereas yours are perfect.

“Thank you, Rinni— Rin.” you smile, picking up your cutlery as you start to dig in. He doesn’t say anything, he just smiles weakly as he nods. He washes his hands in the sink as his brother places a plate down in front of Chigiri. He sits opposite to him with a plate of his own.

Your smile fades as you watch Rin walk away without sitting down with a plate of his own.

“Where’re you going?” Ryusei asks, cheeks full of food as he talks.

“Not hungry.” he responds, retreating upstairs.

You sigh, losing your appetite despite the food looking so perfectly appealing. Hyoma leans over to you, whispering that you need to eat as he watches you play with your food. He’s right, as usual, so you force yourself to take a few bites. Your eyes meet Ryusei’s as you look up, and you see an expression of concern and worry on his face.

It forces you to continue eating. You don’t want to worry everyone, after all.

But you yourself are worried about Rin.

He could be telling the truth, of course. It’s possible that he really isn’t hungry. But what if it’s your fault? Maybe he can’t stomach the idea of being around you. Eating around you. He might not even want to breathe the same air as you after last night.

Breakfast… he made it for you specifically, though.

Why would he do that if he hated you so much?

“He’s almost finished eating,” Hyoma whispers, gesturing to Shidou’s plate. “Eat your food, pull him aside, and I’ll see if I can find out anything from Sae.” he continues.

You take a few more bites and push your plate aside. Chigiri waits for you to do as he had told you, but you whisper to him instead.

“Why do you think Rin isn’t eating?” you ask, “I should make him breakfast since he did the same for me!” you smile, excitedly.

“Aw!” he smiles back, a little too widely to be sincere. “Your cooking is disgusting. You’re trying to get him back, not kill him.”

“Oh my God it isn’t that ba—”

“Hey, didn’t you need to talk to Shidou about something?” he says, loudly, pulling everyone’s attention from their food to look at your exchange. No one is more captivated than Shidou himself, however, who picks up both of your plates and moves them closer to the sink. “I’ll wash up, dude, don’t worry.” Chigiri says as he stands to his feet, shooting you a final, warning glare before walking to the sink.

You smile at Ryusei, leading him over to the empty lounge. He lights the wood logs in the fireplace after seeing your skin break out in goosebumps. The couch feels tight as you sit together, despite being so far apart. His arm rests over the back while he rests an ankle on his knee, and you’re sitting cross-legged with your back against the furniture’s arm.

It’s awkward.

There’s an obvious tension that you don’t feel qualified to break. He’s formulating words, you can see him thinking of what to say since he’s older and should therefore be more mature. He’s the one who hurt you, unintentionally of course, so he should try and alleviate this heavy feeling of unease.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he starts. “If I did anything to give you the wrong idea… I’m sorry.”

“No, I was being a brat, I’m sorry.” you tell him, trying your best to not let your bruised ego interfere with a friendship you do value wholeheartedly. “You were right, I was hurting and then I lashed out because I was embarrassed.”

“You know I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if you weren’t Rin’s girl, yeah?” he laughs, tilting your head up by the chin with his finger as he urges you to look at him. “I know you aren’t together, but it’s a red line to me.”

“I understand…” you nod, “Are you going to tell him?”

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Nothin’ happened.” he smiles at you. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. It makes you giggle; you can’t help yourself. Ryusei always seems to make you feel lighter whenever you talk to him.

He’s sweet.

Really sweet.

And often times, severely misunderstood. You’ve known him since he was young, he’s thirty, now. You remember meeting him when you hadn’t been with Rin for too long. He told you about how they’d fight, physically. He told you he was crazy and unhinged, this that and the other.

But you got to know him, you suppose.

You got to see a softer side of him and one that cares deeply. And he does care for you, even still. He’ll care about you for as long as he lives, you can see it plainly as he holds you in his arms, looking up into his eyes.

He looks at you like you’re his everything, sometimes.

You melt into his arms when you hear him lightly sniff your strawberry scented hair, it makes him hold you tighter. His head drops, levelling his mouth with your ear.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he wonders.

You stiffen, and he feels it. He rubs your shoulders lightly with his thumbs, encouraging you to share in your own time. Whether it’s now, or in an hour.

He’s got you.

“Rin— His… girlfriend,” you gulp, fighting tears as they threaten to form and douse your cheeks for the second day in a row. “Do you know anything?”

“I know the same as you,” he confesses, feeling a pang on guilt in his heart as he hears you sigh in disappointment. “You ended things, baby, are ya jealous?”

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake…” you admit, looking into his eyes. “Help me, Ryu, please. I want to know if there’s still a chance with him.”

He just huffs and shrugs his shoulders.

Realistically there’s not much he can do to help. And you know that. You know how stubborn Rin can be, and what’s worse, he’s so private about his personal life. It used to be you that he was so secretive about. The only pictures on his Instagram profile were ones of you and him.

Just two pictures.

One of your birthday.

Another of your engagement.

They’re both gone, now. It breaks your heart to think about. He might replace them one day with photos of her. The thought of another woman wearing his grandmother’s ring makes anxiety surge through your nerve endings. Your body eases, though, when you feel Ryusei’s protective hold get stronger.

“I’ll find out what I can for you…” he whispers, “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

You nod, closing your eyes peacefully when you feel him place a delicate kiss into your temple. Chigiri looks over at you, shrugging, as if he’s asking for news. But you just shake your head, leaving both of you disappointed.

“Sae doesn’t know anything either.” Chigiri tells you now that you’re finally alone together again in the room you’re sharing. You grunt as you sit down on the bed with him, pouting that your little scheme has failed before it even took flight. “Are we giving up?”

“I guess, what else can we do?” you sigh. It was a noble thought that you’d be able to get some information and find a way to get your fairytale ending, but this is real life. Of course that wasn’t an option. “Anyway, it’s your birthday tomorrow. We should be focusing on that. Sae said he wanted to plan something.”

“We talked about it last night… he suggested going to one of the bars in town.” he explains. “Maybe we could do the secret Santa shopping too. Who did you get?” he wonders.

“Um…” you get off the bed, moving a few things around in the room as you try and recall where you left the jagged piece of cardboard with your recipient’s name written on. You find it in a crumpled pile of last night’s clothes and panties, handing it to Chigiri to read.

“Sae! At least you know him well enough to get something for him.” he smiles, giving it back to you.

“I was hoping I’d get you or Ryusei to be honest… or, never mind.” you speak quietly, regretting wanting to bring Rin up again when you’d tried to change the subject in the first place. “Who did you get?” you wonder.

He smirks, pulling his own piece of cardboard out of his pocket before showing it to you. Your face drops, and he can’t help but laugh, sticking his tongue out as he waves it around teasingly.

Rin.

“Give me it.” you demand. You reach out to grab it, but he snatches it from your reach. “Fucking give me it!” you leap on him, fighting with him as he carries on keeping it away from you.

“You fucking psycho!” he laughs, losing the upper hand as he lowers his hands to hold his aching stomach. “I was gonna give it to you anyway, idiot.”

“This is a gamechanger.” you smile, triumphantly holding the bent and torn piece of cardboard. “He almost kissed me. He was jealous. He made me breakfa—”

“He made everyone breakfast.”

“We’ve got history!” you steal the conversation back from him as he interrupts you, glaring at him with a new determination in your eyes. He watches you as you speak, knowing that you’re definitely onto something. There is so much history between you. And if you can pull of a simple, romantic gesture, he might bare his heart to you again. “Good things always happen on your birthday. I’m more excited than usual.”

“Because it’s my special day and you love me, right?” he rolls his eyes. “Not because you’re scheming to get your ex back.”

“I’m very excited for your special day and I love you very much, Chigs.” you laugh, chubbing his cheeks as you bend down from where you’re standing to tease him. “I’ll give up after this, for real. If he doesn’t want me, fine! But I think there’s still a chance…”

You aren’t sure if that’s entirely true though.

Maybe it’s your imagination.

Maybe it’s just hope.

“Who’s gonna be the designated drivers?” Karasu wonders, scanning around the room as he contemplates who will fill the roles. “We’ll need two, minimum.”

“I don’t mind staying sober.” you pipe up, shrugging and smiling happily. You got wasted on your first night here and, honestly, your stomach is still raw. You look upstairs as you hear a creak of the wood floor, the only person not present is the birthday boy himself. So, your face lights up, eager to finally see him and give him his gifts. “It’s Hyoma’s birthday, so he isn’t driving, decide the rest amongst yourselves.” you tell them as you stand up and rush towards your shared room.

The guys nod, all looking at each other as they try and come to a decision.

“I don’t care.” Rin announces, taking a drink of his coffee. “I’ll drive.”

“We should have one more to be safe,” Sae suggests, and they all groan, disappointed that Rin hadn’t gotten them all off the hook. It’s a choice between five, and none of them seem willing to be gracious enough to offer. “Fine. Let’s draw straws.”

You knock on the door to your room before entering immediately after, a wide grin sprawled across your face.

“Good morning! Happy birthday~!” you squeal, rushing over to your best friend to give him a tight, loving squeeze. He laughs, thanking you gratefully. He watches you as you grab the tall bag full of gifts and hand it to him. “If there’s anything you don’t like, jus’ lemme know and we can return or exchange!” you tell him, and he nods.

Though, as expected, your taste is perfect.

He pulls out each meticulously wrapped gift and is happy with each and every item you’ve gotten him. You’ve gotten the perfect mix of presents for him. Some clothes, accessories, and jewellery you were certain he’d like.

“This must have cost a fortune, you didn’t have to spend so much y’know.” he smiles, happily, holding a designer sweater you’d gotten him with an intricate design. You think nothing of it, though. If you could buy gifts for your atrocious little step siblings, you didn’t mind doing the same for your best friend. “I might wear this today!”

“You should! We’ve just been picking designated drivers.” you inform him. “I’m not drinking tonight, but I told them you aren’t driving since it’s your special day.”

“You aren’t?”

“I want a clear head today… it’s gonna be a long day.” you explain, and he nods. “We’ll probably be leaving soon so we should start getting dressed.” you tell him, standing up and crumpling all of the wrapping paper into a ball. You toss it aside before you decide to sit and start getting ready again.

“I’m gonna say good morning to everyone.” he smiles, waving.

You’re alone in the room, now, thinking about what’s to come. You don’t know how you should wear your hair or do your makeup. You aren’t sure how to dress comfortably for a shopping day whilst simultaneously looking hot enough to go for drinks and party after.

There’s an unnecessary pressure you’re letting weigh down on you. You want to impress Rin. You want to leave an impression. It’s silly, really. He knows you through and through. Every deep, saccharine inch of you, better than anyone else ever will. But here you are, preening yourself for his benefit more than your own.

It feels somewhat in vain, deep down.

Why are you trying to put on a mask for a man that knows you so, so intimately?

“You look really good,” Chigiri comments, leaning across the centre console to whisper in hushed tones. You offer a giddy, accomplished smile as you thank him, Eita and Oliver agree with him as they seem to overhear even over the pop music blasting through the speakers.

Cosy was the right move when you decided on your look for the day, though you may look like you’re heading for a day on some ski slopes rather than shopping and partying.

You’re dressed head to toe in white. Earmuffs, fuzzy coat and boots, and a skin tight jumpsuit. You even have white mittens ready to wear when you get out of the car.

“So… we’re splitting up. Looking for gifts. And then meeting at the bar in a few hours?” you ask the boys, who all nod.

“I already know what I’m getting so I’ll be going straight to the bar when I’m done.” Eita announces.

“Me too.” Oliver tells him, laughing.

You shake your head as you watch them joke around like kids, but with a joyous smile on your face. They must have something simple and generic in mind to be able to purchase their gifts to quickly. Though, knowing them, it’s probably alcohol.

There are butterflies in your stomach as you approach the nearby village town, you look into the rearview mirror to see Rin is still following closely behind.

You wonder how frustrated he is with Ryusei annoying him in the passenger seat.

You take a deep breath as you park, watching him pull up beside you. Everyone gets out quickly, eager to stretch their legs after the thirty-minute drive. You sigh as Rin walks away rapidly; his face buried in his phone without even bothering to say goodbye.

Chigiri shrugs at you, and everyone disperses through the village in different directions.

“I don’t even know where to start…” you confess, looking between each of the cutesy looking stores.

You enter a few, browsing, hoping something will leap out at you. An accessory you know he might like or maybe even a keepsake that might remind him of you whenever he sees it. But it starts to feel hopeless after you leave the 7th little shop you come across.

Otoya and Karasu pass by you, laughing as you enter while they’re leaving.

You dread to think what they’ve bought.

“I bet they’ve bought dirty magazines or something stupid.” Chigiri suspects, shaking his head in amusement as he thinks about how loud they were laughing. You grin, thinking about how the other guys would react to receiving such a scandalous, silly gift.

You try a few more places, and even revisit some others. But you’re about ready to give up as time keeps going on and on. Hyoma hasn’t had much luck finding something for the elder Itoshi sibling, either.

You’re both close to just buying some local sweets and calling it a day.

“Well this has been a disaster,” you huff, “So much for this being a gamechanger!”

“We haven’t been down here yet.” he points to an alleyway with a few more stores.

You enter through the hefty double doors of one, observing what kinds of things they have on the shelves. You’re both immediately excited when you realise you’re in a charity shop. You’re all too familiar with some of the treasures some people give away, some of your favourite outfits are things you’ve found through being thrifty.

“Oh this is perfect!” you beam, looking through each shelf at all of the little trinkets. Chigiri separates from you as he starts sifting through the clothes, wondering if he can find a novelty shirt of some kind as gag gift.

“There are DVDs over here, maybe we should get some to watch if we get bored?” he suggests. “They’re so cheap.”

“Oh cool!” you smile, approaching him to look through the selection together. “Ah! Oh my God, get this for Sae!” you tell him as you pull a DVD down from the shelf and hand it to him. “It’s his favourite!”

“Taxi Driver? Okay.” he scoffs, but keeps hold of it. At the very least, he knows Sae will definitely like it. Though he’s sure if it’s his favourite he probably already owns it in some form. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Every time he tried to make us watch it, I always fell asleep.” you giggle. Your eyes scan across the DVDs as you carry on walking through the shop. And then you realise you’ve walked too far when you see the spines change in height and width. “Oh, CDs!” you speak excitedly as you look through all of the old bands and albums on the shelves.

You grimace in confusion as your eyes settle on a familiar album amongst all of the other more obscure ones. Surely not, you think. But you place your finger on the top and wiggle it out from being suffocated between the rest.

“Hyoma!” you squeal, flipping it for him to see. His eyes drop to see Lana’s Lust for Life album in your hand. He seems confused, though, as his eyes flit between yours and the CD you’re holding. “It’s a sign!”

“Is it?” he asks, sceptically.

“Yes! He got me this on vinyl for my birthday a few years ago!” you explain, and he looks sympathetic rather than supportive. “I— am I being stupid? I was thinking it might remind him of us.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea.” he tells you, holding your shoulders supportively. “Let’s go pay and get to the bar.” he continues, holding a few DVDs in his hands.

You grab your purse, offering to cover everything as the cashier helps you bag everything and rings you up. It’s cheap, and yet, you feel accomplished. You were starting to doubt whether you’d actually be able to find anything for him. If Chigiri hadn’t pointed this place out, you’d be giving him a poxy box of sweets on Christmas morning.

Although, the sweets might be a nice additional gift.

~

The guys slowly but surely begin filtering into the bar with their shopping bags. You’ve been here with Chigiri for a little while, but Oliver, Tabito and Eita were the first ones here when you arrived.

Ryusei sits down beside you when he comes in next, and Rin isn’t far behind him. Everyone cheers when Sae comes in last, and you can’t help but notice everyone’s shopping bags seem to look similar in some way or another.

“The shops are so dead.” Sae tells you all, and everyone happens to agree.

You aren’t sure what they all expected, though. It’s a small village town in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like you’re in a bustling city with anything and everything at your fingertips. It made shopping more fun, you thought. It gave you the opportunity to really look around until you found something special.

“I’ll get drinks,” Rysuei announces as he stands up. He makes a mental note of what everyone wants, knowing he’ll probably forget when he goes to the bar.

“Move down, Rin, I need to talk to Ryusei.” Sae instructs his little brother. Rin looks at Ryusei’s empty seat, and then at you. It makes your heart race when his pretty teal eyes meet yours. He looks worried, for some reason, but masks it well as he shuffles from his seat to the one closer to you.

Your eyes wander as they meet Sae’s, and he winks at you casually.

Hyoma never did tell you what he and Sae talked about, only that he couldn’t get any information, either. But from this simple act, it seems Hyoma has revealed your true feelings for his brother to him.

And you’re happy.

Because this small gesture indicates that you have his support.

You don’t say anything, not right away, as he settles down beside you. You’re surprised he isn’t toying with his phone like he has been endlessly since he got here. It makes your throat tighten to think he might be doing it so that you don’t see his texts with his new girlfriend.

“How did shopping go?” you ask him, hoping to break the ice and stop yourself from spiralling about a woman you don’t even know the name of.

“Fine, I think,” he tells you. “I think everyone’s gonna be disappointed with what they get.”

“I don’t know… it’s part of the fun.” you reply. “If we wanted to go all out, we would have planned to do this before we got here so we could order perfect, expensive things. But having a little budget and no idea was a change of pace.”

“What did you buy?” he wonders.

“I got some sweets to eat when we get back.” you smile. It makes him smile, too, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. You hadn’t expected to see his face change like that because of something you said. It’s warm, thawing away at your frozen heart.

“Happy birthday, Chigiri.” Ryusei says as he gives your best friend his drink first. You already know that Hyoma isn’t going to have to pay for a single drink himself while he’s here, it’s everyone’s birthday offering to him. Rin doesn’t pay Ryusei any mind as he sits down in his previous seat, too busy focusing on chatting with you.

It makes you feel special.

It makes you feel wanted.

“Rin?” you whisper, leaning over to him. He looks at you, a serious expression on his face as he senses your desperation. You’re trying not to be so needy, but you just can’t help it. “… I’m glad you decided to come along.”

It’s not what you wanted to say and not what he expected to hear. Although, you aren’t sure what you actually do want to say to him. Telling him you still harbour feelings will surely only end in tears when you know you can’t have him.

He isn’t yours anymore.

“Yeah? Well, it hasn’t been as painful as I expected it to be.” he tells you. And even that, such a simple, sulky sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it’s because you know it’s oh so quintessentially Rin Itoshi. “You did scare me, when I saw you on the stairs.”

“You scared me too…” you admit. “I—”

“It happened, it’s fine. We’re fine.” he tells you, taking a sip of the lemonade Ryusei had ordered for him. You decided to stick to water, the freezing ice cubes bump against your lips as you drink heartily. “I heard Otoya go into your room the other night. After we— talked.”

“Nothing happened…” you respond, drinking more water to cover how your expression fills with shame and regret. He nods, understanding. “S-So, your girlfriend. Tell me about her…” you ask, reluctantly. And you’re a little surprised when he shakes his head.

“I’m not doing this,” he speaks. “We’re fine. I’m being civil. You aren’t entitled to know about my personal life just because I’m tolerating you.”

“Tolerating me? Really?”

“Yes, tolerating you.” he continues. “You lost the right to know about me when you left.”

“God, Rin, I barely knew you then.” you huff, crossing one leg over the other as you slightly angle your back to him. He puts his arm around the back of your seat and positions himself awful close. It startles you when you turn back to face him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“You were so distant. All you cared about was football.” you inform him, doing your best to keep your voice lowered so that you don’t make a scene. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your best friend’s birthday because you had a momentary lapse of judgement.

Maybe exes are exes for a reason.

“Because it’s my job? My career.”

“And I have a career too, but I still remembered to ask how your day was. You stopped talking to me unless it was about our schedules.”

“You—” he huffs, moving away from you. You’re a little taken aback when he stands up with the intention of leaving. He pulls out some money and tells Hyoma to get himself a drink, on him, as a birthday gift.

Everyone looks a little lost for words when he ups and leaves. But then there’s a sigh of relief when they remembered they appointed Karasu to be another designated driver.

It’s not sitting right with you, though.

It almost felt like you were close to a breakthrough. You were getting into the nitty gritty of why your relationship fell apart in the first place, and, as usual, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. You gather your things and decide to chase after him, knowing you can’t leave things like this.

You won’t even be able to call yourselves friends if you don’t figure this out.

“You’re stalking me, now?” Rin chuckles as he ducks into Sae’s car and locks the door. You try knocking on the window for him to let you in, but you’re speechless when he just drives off instead.

You fumble with the keys to Chigiri’s car until you manage to unlock it.

He’s not running away from you again.

As much as he wanted to break the speed limit to escape you, there was no point. You knew he was heading home so you’d find him eventually. Besides, he didn’t want to risk either of you slipping on the ice and winding up dead.

So he kept to a steady pace, enjoying the thirty minutes of peace on the drive down to the cabin before what he could only assume would be a shouting match between the two of you.

“Rin!” you yell as you get out of the car, slamming the door. It would make him laugh if he wasn’t so frustrated, you always did prove him right about things like this. He gets out of Sae’s car and slams the door, not even bothering to look at you as he walks up the stairs to the cabin.

He unlocks the door with ease before strutting in. It’s hard to keep up with his long strides, especially in the wet, slippery snow. You do what you can to speed after him, even taking the stairs two at a time so that you can get inside quicker.

You spot him in the kitchen as if nothing had happened. He’s standing by the kettle as he boils some water to make tea. He looks at you, casually, before looking back at the steam gently rising through the spout.

“You’re so childish? How didn’t I realise how fucking childish you are on top of everything?!” you shout as you walk over to the platform that separates the kitchen from the entryway. He still looks intent on keeping his mouth shut. And it’s making you crazy. “Will you say something?”

“What do you want?” he retorts, instantly. He looks at you briefly before pouring the water into a novelty Christmas mug. It’s tacky and hideous and you’re sure he hates it, but it must have been the first thing he saw to use. He leans back against the counter behind him while he uses a spoon to press the flavour from the tea bag.

“I— tell me you hate me, call me a bitch, I don’t know!” you demand. “I hate this tension, Rinnie, because every time I think things are okay, you freeze up and it’s—”

“I can’t tell if you’re… joking?” he smirks. “You, literally, broke my heart with no explanation. I’ve spent months trying to move on and then you show up out of nowhere and you’re trying to be best friends. I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“So what do you want?!”

“I want you to leave me alone.” he raises his voice, and it’s harsh. But instead of hurting you, it makes you angrier. You blood boils as you round the counter to get closer to him as he speaks. He puts down the tea he made as you get closer, using hand gestures wildly as he talks to get his point across. “You shouldn’t have come here. Because you shouldn’t have been keeping in touch with my family after we broke up. It’s such a fucking red line, it’s violating.”

“Oh, well, fuck me for wanting to know how you’re doing after everything. You know, since you completely cut me off. I was worried and you wouldn’t even text me to tell you when you were coming to get your stuff!”

“This is your problem,” he wags his finger with a smile before holding it to his lips as he thinks of how to tell you exactly how he feels. “You’re so fucking entitled. I’m being nice to you after you hurt me, and you think you deserve to know me again.”

“No, this is your problem!” you bite back, walking away from him before closing the gap again. You look up at him with watery eyes as he towers over you. Your heart aches as you feel the distance between you expand the more you talk about the past. But it has to happen. Even if you lose him forever, you can’t carry all of this pain with you forever. “You shut people out when they care! I want you to be happy and I want us to be friends, but you won’t talk to me! I broke up with you because when you were neglecting me, I felt lonelier than I did when I was actually alone.”

“I didn’t neglect you, I loved you. What was really the problem? Huh?” he asks, getting closer to you. And you have to crane your neck just to keep eye contact with him. He can’t ignore how glittery your eyes are as you hold back tears. You’re covering your sadness with rage, that much is clear to him. But he doesn’t want to stop. Not now, not when you’ve driven him to the point of no return with your incessant complaints. “I was too busy for you, yeah? You didn’t miss me, missed me taking you on fancy dates so you had something to brag about on Instagram.”

“… fuck you.” you say, quietly, your voice gets trapped in your throat as you try and figure out how to pull away from this confrontation with your dignity intact. It’s too late though. He’s already witnessed a lone tear fall down your cheek. “Do you hate me that much? Do you think that little of me?”

He doesn’t.

“Princess…” he sighs, tilting your head up with his thumb and forefinger so that you’re fixated on his eyes. Teal whirlpools with flecks of turquoise that create a scintillating visage that cannot be described by a mere mortal. No, they are deep lagoons that you want to drown in. They soften as he names you the only way you’d want to be named by him. Not your birth name, but as royalty. His princess. “I don’t think about you at all.”

Your heart shatters and he sees so clearly how your vision breaks. Should you keep looking at him or somewhere else entirely. His face is stoic, as usual, though he cups your face like you’re precious. Like you are the princess you want to believe you are, for him.

The energy in your body has depleted and you can’t even bring yourself to push him away. All you have is words. And, even then, you’re drawing a blank. So you sink, deep. Lower than the depths of hell to truly muster three little words you simply don’t mean.

“I hate you.”

He doesn’t react, not fully. But the colour of his eyes dull as the words reach his ears.

“I fucking despise you.” he retorts.

You do nought but stare.

Both of you.

You just stand there, indignantly staring into each other’s eyes as you process the situation. Your chest heaves and your body trembles with fury. You didn’t mean it, not really. In this moment, you suppose you do hate him a little. But you’ll never know if Rin means it.

Part of you assumes he’s only saying it to hurt you like you hurt him. He said what you said but increased the severity of his words just to twist the knife into your bloodied heart. But maybe he does truly feel this way. Maybe he’s felt nothing but disdain towards you since you broke up with him all of those months ago.

Why would he feel anything positive when it comes to you?

Especially since he’s moved on.

“I hate you, Rinnie…” you reiterate, lip wobbling as your tears spill more and more.

“I don’t believe you.” he says, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

You scan his face, and he doesn’t move an inch. It gives you pause for a moment as you contemplate what you’re feeling. But there are no thoughts in your brain, it’s silent. Blood pumps through you, and emotions overtake you as you lunge forward.

The distance between you is gone as you press your lips against his. He doesn’t tease you, this time. He doesn’t pull away. He kisses you back. You feel his hands explore your body, large palms settling in the slopes of your waist before they lower to your thighs.

You could never hate him.

His hands on your body make you feel whole again. He himself can barely believe how lovestruck you are in the way that you moan softly and breathe deeply from just his hands roaming your body. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he deposits you on the countertop.

You lose yourself to loving squeezes and open-mouthed kisses as he grinds his hips between your spread legs, his tea long since abandoned in favour or tormenting what he knows to be your intricate, sopping flesh.

“You hate me, baby?” he asks, mumbling against your glossy, drooling lips. “S’that right? You hate me? Say it again, princess, say you hate me.”

“D— Don’t—!” you tell him, lips too eager to be smothered by his to answer him properly. You’re worried a truth might stray from your loose lips while you’re with him like this. You fight it, you really fight it. “I hate you, so much. R-Rinnie…” you tell him, and it feels honest. You’re substituting one word for another, and it feels so powerful as you lie to him with ease. He doesn’t stop, though.

If anything, everything intensifies.

“Yeah?” he asks, licking the tip of his tongue against yours tormentingly. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll stop, then.”

“No, please,” you beg and it’s downright pathetic. Your own hips roll to meet his movements. You hump against each other pitifully, the desperation and friction being enough to leave you heady and delirious and most of all satisfied that it’s thanks to Rin Itoshi. “Don’t stop, please.” you whimper, attaching your lips to his as he continues.

Your poignant words lead him to growl against your skin. It’s so primal. So territorial as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders and down your arms. You help him in his efforts to take it off, shoving it until it slides and puddles on the ground.

“God I missed you.” you hear him mumble against your skin. Your heart beats faster as you feel him caress every inch of your body, hands resting on the swell of your tits as he thinks about what he wants to do to you.

You feel your truth being coaxed out of you with each passing second. Every ingratiating word the is meticulously embedded from his tongue and into your brain makes you desperate to tell him how you really feel and beg that he feels the same.

“Rinnie, I—”

His entire hand smothers the lower half of your face. There’s a worry in his eye as his body tenses up. And still, he can’t stop himself. He carries on humping his heavy bulge into your clothed cunt at a snail’s pace, panicked eyes turning heavy and filled with lust as he looks at how needy you are.

“Shh, baby,” he tells you, showing no signs of moving his hand.

“I can’t believe they ditched us.” you both hear a familiar voice muffled from outside. You aren’t sure why you care, but soon enough you’re both scrambling to be away from each other. You put your jacket back on after gathering it from the ground, both of you doing your best to act cool. “Here you are! What the fuck?” Tabito exclaims.

You can’t look.

Neither of you know why you’re so ashamed. So humiliated that you’d almost been caught hooking up. It’s not like it would be so scandalous, is it? You’ve made it very clear that you still have feelings for him, and yet, you don’t want anyone to know about this.

He’s the same, though, doing all he can to maintain composure.

He looks calm.

But you know him.

His eyes are blown. Full of lust and anxiety as he tries to control his breathing. No one else would notice, but you see how heavy his controlled breaths are. He gulps, scratching the back of his neck before looking around.

“I’ll get the others,” Rin tells Tabito, who can only shrug at his words.

Only Chigiri and Sae had returned with Karasu, the rest deciding to wait in the bar until someone decided to come and collect them. Tabito thought he’d have to do a return trip, not expecting Rin to spare him from repeating the journey once again. But once he has the all clear, he kicks off his shoes and sprawls on the couch.

Chigiri stares at you, and you can’t even look him in the eye for more than a second.

Why are you brimming with shame?

He almost sobers up at the sight of you. You look so vacant and dazed. It’s hard to look at him when you feel like this. Every attempt to do so, every forced little smile, only makes his concern grow. He walks towards you, but just as abruptly, he stops.

Rin walks behind you, caging your body beneath him as he traps you against the kitchen island. He doesn’t notice Chigiri staring, and he can’t look away. You turn your head a little, but not much. You’re eager to look at Rin but he levels his mouth with your ear. His breathing is laboured yet soft, and your skin pinches together as it carries through your body.

“I could never hate you, princess.” he whispers. He leaves you alone with that sentence without so much as a glance. He holds the keys to his brother’s car and heads for the exit. Chigiri watches him walk by before looking at you again. Sae looks at you both, briefly. He too is curious as to what is going on.

“That looked intense.” Hyoma speaks, finally getting close enough to have a conversation with you. You smile, and it’s feeble, but it’s all you can do as you try to think of an excuse to give him. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said about missing you. Tensions were high, after all. He has a girlfriend to think about, of course he feels ashamed. Of course, he wants to pretend this little lapse of judgement didn’t occur. “Did something happen?” your best friend asks.

“We just argued.” you lie.

You never lie to Chigiri, though you’re sure you’ll tell him once you get your bearings. You need to find out what’s going on with Rin. It’s hard to talk about something you don’t understand. You’re sure he’ll be sympathetic once you have your story straight.

You just need to talk to Rin.

You need some assurance.

You need to know where you stand.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed early.” you tell him, giving him a hug before walking away. “Happy birthday, Chigs!”

“… okay.” he looks at you, hugging you back. “I’ll try and be quiet so I don’t wake you.”

“Goodnight.” you wave, ascending the stairs and out of his line of sight.

An early night was never an option. You knew that, and Hyoma probably knew it, too.

All you did when you got to your room was scroll through Instagram. You took some time to reply to some texts you’d received from family asking how your trip was going. You hammed it up, of course, not letting slip that Rin happened to be here too.

They all called you stupid for ending things with him.

It felt right at the time. But hindsight is a wonderful thing.

You weren’t ready to deal with re-opening that wound only to hear ‘I told you so’ repeatedly.

You heard Rin get home with the other guys, though they all stayed downstairs.

It’s all the more humiliating when you think about how desperately you want Rin to appear. You need him to come and get you, and not just to pick up where you left off.

You want answers.

Though you suppose you won’t be getting them tonight.

You spent a few hours trying on different outfits and following along with makeup tutorials from YouTube before getting bored. The raucous sounds of laughter and music got louder when you walked across the hall to take a shower and wash your face clean.

The floorboards begin to creak in the direction of the stairs when you get out.

And it scares you.

You rush across the hallway and back into your room. Your hand flies to your chest, adrenaline ravishes your heart as you lean backwards against the locked door. It makes you feel vulnerable, right now. No matter who it is, you feel scared of being seen.

Your heart stops when you hear a knock at the door.

It isn’t repeated.

Just one, singular, knock.

It makes your breathing stutter and stop abruptly. You don’t dare answer, not when you’re naked, save for the towel. It could be any one of the seven men you’re sharing the house with this week. But deep down, you know.

You know who’s on the other side of that door.

The steps retreat, and your breathing calms.

Was it him? Was that really Rin Itoshi on the other side of your door? You wait until you can barely hear the steps anymore before you unlock the barrier between you and him. When the door opens, you step out, sheepishly.

He looks at you from down the hall. Those eyes of his, full of pain and longing as he stares back at you with the same intensity you’re offering him. He doesn’t speak, but he goes into his room, so you go back into yours.

You let your towels hit the floor, crumpling up in a mess as you look for some nightwear and a hairbrush. It’s like a race against time, or at least that’s how it feels as you quickly try to brush through your sopping hair.

Every passing minute feels like it’s expanding the gulf between the two of you. So you want to hurry, it needs to be resolved now.

You barely even close the door when you walk out and jog down the hall to his room. It’s hard to be quiet when you feel such urgency to see him. You hope your footsteps aren’t too loud. And you hope nobody can hear over the music where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s all you can do.

And so, you knock, quietly, waiting for him to let you in. Too much time passes. Minutes feel like hours as you wait for him to answer. Your body feels cold, wet droplets decorate your skin and your hair drips down your spine. It feels like a mistake that you came. But why would he knock if he hadn’t wanted this to happen? Maybe he regrets this, too, as well as what happened downstairs.

It hurts to think about.

But he answers, and of your anxiety leaves you like a deflating balloon. Though you’re stilled, before him, and he doesn’t move aside. It makes your worries return as if it were a cat preparing to pounce on a rat. You widen your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It happens again and again… and again until you realise, you’re choked up.

You can’t say a thing.

So, you don’t.

You get closer to him, still trying to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out, even when you’re close enough to feel his heartbeat. You just stare at each other in his doorway, openly exposed to anyone who may decide to ascend the stairs.

“I— I missed you too, Rinnie.”

His eyes soften at your sensitivity. The way that you have no qualms in making yourself susceptible to a painful rejection.

He lets you in, kicking the door behind himself before leaning back on it.

“You missed me, huh?” he speaks, his head droops backwards until there’s a gentle thud against the wooden door. His eyes are so heavy, his gaze is narrow. And still you can’t help but seek love and comfort from him as he looks at your with such disdain. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous because you can’t have me?”

His words are hurtful, regardless of how valid of a question it is. It’s possible, sure, but it feels like more than that. You knew when you ended things that it was the right decision. But now it feels like a mistake, something rash you did in the heat of the moment. You didn’t give him a chance. You didn’t give either of you a chance.

And now, despite everything, you want to.

“You said you missed me…” you tell him, meekly, “I mean it, Rin. Did you mean it?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. You always hated it when he did this, and it feels worse now, somehow. His eyes are terrifying and yet you can’t stop staring back at him. They’re piercing, like icicles falling from a height and impaling you without remorse.

“Rin…” you speak, closing the distance between you again. Your breath hitches as you approach, shaky hands reach out to rest on his chest, and you swallow before speaking once more. “Rinnie.”

He grabs your wrists and spins you around, pinning you against the door behind you. Your heart rate is rapid, and his isn’t much better. You’re staring again, but you bite your tongue.

Your lips meet as his crash against your own. He lifts you up, just as he had hours prior, and carries you to his bed. Your breathing is heavy, you pant furiously as you roll your hips against him in a bid to alleviate the tension that has been brewing since early evening. He drops you down on the bed, his body smothers yours as he lies on top of you.

His hips roll into your soaking core, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.

“I meant what I said,” he tells you before silencing himself with another kiss. “Fuckin’ missed you.” he wraps his arm around your back and lifts your body further up the bed with ease, determined to get your head comfortable in the pillows.

You wince as he strips you of your pyjama bottoms and peels away your panties from your dripping cunt. It’s too dark to see you, but it’s enough. The way the moonlight bleeds through his windows turns your petalled flesh into a galaxy. Between your legs lies a constellation of the prettiest stars, and there’s nothing more that he needs.

He pulls his sweater over his head, discarding it somewhere unknown as if it means nothing. It’s true, in this moment. Nothing matters but being intimately bare with each other.

Your cunt, his cunt, is committed to memory. He could recognise how your intimate folds feel among others even if blindfolded. Because you were made for him. Of this, he’s sure. Your cunt belongs to him, and you would have done well to remember that.

“I can’t wait, princess,” he explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Please, fuck me, I can’t wait anymore. Rinnie I c—can’t.”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, freeing his cock just enough from their confines to line his length up with you. You sob when you feel his pretty tip catch against your hole. And he coos so sweetly as he teases you with that feeling. Your pretty tears are like diamonds dripping from your eyes as the blinding moonlight ignites them. “I’ve always given you whatever you want, I’m not gonna stop now.” he tells you.

It's the only warning you get before he pushes into you. He sinks slowly until you’re filled up to the brim and you’re sure you can feel him in your throat. It’s like nothing has changed. Every ridge and vein feels so familiar, you’ve never known a feeling better than you know this one. A ribald dance that only the two of you know.

His tip kisses your gooey insides in the most delectable way. Just as it always had in those ethereal nights you spent with him throughout your relationship. He holds your jaw with one hand, and it’s rough. A commanding force that’s imploring you to indulge him in this.

Give him your everything, mind body and soul. He can see how your eyes want to wander. They want to stray and abandon him just like you had months ago. But he’s doing this for you, he thinks you should understand that.

The least you owe him is your loving eyes on his.

Your love is trapped in your throat as you force it to stay there. His eyes are so beautiful and his body feels like you’re home again. You want to tell him, it’s making you cry even more. You can’t help but wonder if that’s enough, alone. If he can see the love you’re pouring into the tears you shed, will he understand what you’re so scared to convey?

He surprises you, however, as he spills himself inside of you after a few deep strokes. It snaps you away from your panicked mind as you feel warmth fill you. And that feels like love, to you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” he tells you, stopping you from replying with a bruising kiss. “I don’t want to stop.” he pushes your little vest up your body until your tits spring free.

You moan beautifully as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, gently caressing the raised bud with his tongue. A gentle yet rough hand delicately pushes your tensing legs apart from each other, not caring in the least if his seed drips onto the sheets below. You gasp as you feel two fingers circle your sticky clit.

“Rinnie…” you whimper.

“I know.” he breaths against your damp nipple, his breath warms your skin before he sinks two heavy fingers into your needy heat. He humps his leaking, coated cock against your side as his length softens slowly. His rutting is in tandem with his fingers prodding your cum coated walls.

Your fingers run through his hair as he continues to suckle on your tits, your second-hand flies to join the first as he alternates from one nipple to the other. And he groans as you tug at his Sacramento coloured locks. The more time you’re with him like this, the more you begin to slip into old habits.

“Think I— f-fuck… Rin.” you mutter, moving your hand to grip the sheets below as he brings you to a tantalizing edge.

“Go on, princess,” he whispers into your pretty skin. “Show me how much you miss me.”

The coil snaps at his silver tongue and salacious language. He never had to try hard to convince you to submit to his commands in the past. Always so eager to please and starved for his touch. You could never get enough of him, and you’ve never been like that with a man before. He makes you greedy, and impatient.

So when he says jump, you show him how high you’re prepared to go for him.

He makes you look at him as you orgasm. Teal eyes, still somehow so radiant even in darkness, hold a neediness you haven’t seen in a long time. You cum, hard, dousing his fingers in your juices as he carries on finger fucking his cum deeper into your insides. And you feel him kiss you. It’s sloppy and pornographic as you swap spit and still moan into his mouth as he drags and pulls every trace of your orgasm from you.

You pant, relaxing your body as the tryst comes to a satisfying end.

“That was amaz—”

“I told you, I’m not ready to stop yet.” he tells you.

He sensually kisses and sucks your neck, though you’re certain it isn’t hard enough to stake his claim on you. He wouldn’t need to, anyway. You both know who you belong to, after all. You watch him as he leaves a trail of kisses down your body. His lips pepper across your collarbone before kissing between the fat of your breasts.

His shushing hits your ears as his mouth comes close to your pussy. His breath fans across your sex, and you feel just how weighty each breath is as he admires your glistening folds as if for the first time.

He gently moves one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, while he pushes the other one into your chest.

His tongue darts out, caressing your exposed clit as he keeps your legs far from each other. Your head falls back into the pillows as the angle makes you delirious. He looks up to see your facial expressions, smirking into your heat when he notices how much you’re enjoying him.

“Rinnie—” you moan, though you’re ultimately ignored. “Rin. Please!” you cry, begging for a bit of reprieve.

“You know what I want.” he tells you, quietly.

You don’t know, not until he frees your leg and sinks his fingers into your heat again. And they curl. It’s devilish and titillating and you just about scream from the feeling. You don’t tell him to stop, though. You wouldn’t dream of it. His arm wraps firmly around your thigh and keeps you fixed in place as you try to flee. But you’re trapped, fated to fall from a height until he’s satisfied.

“Let me see it,” he whispers. Your moans become strident as he digs and teases your spongy interior, searching for what’s rightfully his. He’s there. He’s right there. His jaw hangs low as your toes curl violently, and you make a sloppy mess as you cum perversely. “Goooood girl, good fucking girl. That’s how I like to see my pretty baby cum, jus’ like that.” he grins before slurping up your orgasm. Your pussy gushes like a fountain for him, and it’s everything he’s wanted and needed for months now.

He doesn’t care about getting a little wet.

He couldn’t care less that the front of his hair is almost as soaking as yours.

You hadn’t noticed while you were experiencing the bliss that is Rin Itoshi’s tongue, but he’s been rutting his length pathetically into the mattress as he devours your essence. Each lewd slurp and divine suckle, he’d been grinding his aching cock into the plush mattress below you both.

And he still is.

Pearly pre drools from his slit as he carries on, though he isn’t sure he can stop. But when your cunt stops twitching, he finds the will to proceed. He rests his hands on both of your knees as you put your legs together, waiting to see what he wants to do with you next.

He rakes his fingers through his damp locks, and your cunt flutters at the sight of him pushing his hair back. It flops back into place as he comes down to kiss you again. You wrap your arms around his back, and he moves your body with his until you’re straddling him.

“Rin, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His cock is standing to attention for you again, and he needs to be buried inside. You feel him line his length up, and he covers your mouth with his hand as you attempt to screech out in paradisical bliss as he fills you again.

“Let me do the work,” he tells you, and you nod. “But put your hand here,” he requests, grabbing your wrist until your hand envelops his neck.

You’re worried about falling backwards as he sits with you on top on the edge of his bed. But your safety doesn’t come into question as his fingers sink into your hips to keep you secure. You cry, whimper, and whine as you feel him fuck up into you.

He rewards you with harder and deeper strokes when you softly squeeze the sides of his neck, cock twitching pathetically as he realises how enamoured he is with you still.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me.” he tells you, eyes rolling back until they turn white. The gentle squeeze of your little fingers will always be his undoing.

“Rinnie I—”

���D-Don’t.” he requests, hips stuttering as the thought of you saying what he thinks you’re about to makes him spiral. His heart rate reaches heights he wasn’t sure was possible as he hopes you aren’t about to ruin this. Ruin whatever this even is.

“I love you.” you cry, “I love you s-so much.”

“Fuck,” he pants, slowing ever so slightly so he doesn’t cum before you get to again. He tucks your hair behind your ear. His hips roll and his defined body perfectly stimulates your throbbing clit. “I love you.” he confesses, quietly, kissing you sweetly after the fact.

“Nngh, fuck—!” you wince, your walls tighten around him as you start to feel yourself coming undone once again. So he fucks into you, hard, eager to help you along. “’m cumming, aah!”

You can only assume how red and sweaty his face is as he fucks into you with a passion and vigour you’ve never felt from him before. He has an unyielding need to please and remind you how much he had loved you with every deep, unrelenting stroke.

You cum with him.

And it’s transcendent.

“Did you mean it, princess?” he asks, heavy breaths huffing across your dewy skin. “Do you love me?”

“… Yes, Rinnie—” you pause. “I still love you…”

He kisses your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your torso and holds you close. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was worried to let you go. He lies back and keeps you pressed firmly against him. He plays with your hair as you rest on him. Contentment seems to fill the room as you do nothing but lie like this together. There isn’t a sound other than exhausted breaths and beating hearts.

“I should shower and change the sheets.” he muses into your hair; it only causes you to snuggle further into him. “You should shower with me.”

“I’d like that.” you smile, giddy over the idea of seeing him under artificial lighting and witnessing how his expressions really change when he’s with you intimately.

There’s a niggling feeling, though. That everything is too good to be true. You’re sure this is real, but you have a fleeting thought of being asleep in your bedroom after saying you’d go to bed early. His heart beating against your cheek feels real, though. So does his bare flesh and gentle touch.

Everything is too perfect, though.

You wonder when the bubble will burst.

© 2023 rinhaler

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any more stories like Cool Story, Bro? Not that stiles is a twin, but that he's pining and feels inferior and there's miscommunications? Or like, Derek is trying to date stiles, but it's a little difficult when stiles thinks it's only fuckbuddies?

Btw, should've lead with this, BUT Y'ALL ARE FREAKING AWESOME!!!

AND

Anonymous asked:

Can you reccomend some sterek fics where they're both head over heels for each other but are too dumb to notice its mutual

AND

Anonymous asked:

hi!! do you have any fic recs where stiles is oblivious to how attractive he is? it’s my absolute favorite trope when he has no idea the effect he’s got on people. thank you guys for all of the work you do it is insanely impressive!!!

Let's find out!

How To Make a Werewolf not Hate You (side affects may include love). by AlexTheShipper

(1/1 I 3,189 I Explicit)

Derek is trying to hold out for his soul mate Genim and refuses to fall for Stiles and his cute moles. Stiles thinks Derek hates him.

Are you in love or something? by yumelilo 

(1/1 I 4,489 I Teen)

Derek Hale was just chilling in his new apartment, minding his own business, when Stiles Stilinski decided to pay him a visit in his summer break from College.

- "Dude, seriously, The Weepies?", Stiles commented on the soft tones coming from Derek's sound system. "I always took you for the heavy metal and hard rock guy...", he mused. Derek huffed a laugh, but kept his face partially hidden. "What are you doing here Stiles?", he asked. The unspoken 'How the fuck did you get keys to my new place?' heavily implied. He heard the human sigh long and suffering, like the idea of answering Derek's question would physically hurt him in a way.

A Question of Pack by CawCawMF

(1/1 I 5,291 I Teen)

Stiles had always been sure of his place in the pack. That place being the absolute lowest tier in the hierarchy of werewolf pack dynamics, but he was sure of it all the same. He wasn’t necessary exactly, since just about anyone could conduct research on supernatural mythology, but his job was still important to the pack and he felt good about that. At least, that’s what he always thought. That all came crumbling down one sunny afternoon in the form of Jackson’s big mouth.

Give me a fucking break. Preferably yesterday. by KinimiB

(4/10 I 7,487 I Not Rated)

Stiles knew that if you asked who's easiest to repleace or most useless in pack, the answer would be quick and always the same. Stiles, ordinary, clumsy human. He knew that, everybody did, but it was just an unspoken rule not to say it out loud.

Until it wasn't.

You're It For Me by RageBiter

(1/1 I 7,960 I Mature)

Derek gets cursed by a witch so every time he's too far from Stiles he endures extreme amounts of pain, not that that's any different from usual. Stiles has to stay at Derek's loft and they get closer than Stiles ever though they'd be. Derek's forced to tell Stiles the secret he's been keeping from him since they met. He and Stiles are mates.

I'm a War of Head Versus Heart by NieR

(5/10 I 23,091 I Explicit)

Being FWB with Derek Hale is great. Awesome, even.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, Stiles thinks he might have fallen in love.

And, well, shit.

don't know what i'm supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

(1/1 I 30,926 I Teen)

Stiles sees dead people. Yep. Seriously.

(He’s got this. He’s totally got this. So what if one of them is Derek’s mom?)

If You Wanna Be My Roomie (Lover) by orphan_account

(23/23 I 65,056 I Explicit)

Realistically, Stiles knew that the local University's popularity and commonality meant that many members of his graduating high school class would be starting the Fall 2016 semester alongside him, but he never expected his longtime crush to be one of them. Even more so, he never expected said crush to be assigned as his roommate...oh boy.

You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 I 234,195 I Not Rated)

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

[bananaguyboi]

FINALLY- CHAPTER 1 OF TANG BEING RETURNED-

Thank you @ninauu @unspecified-expectations for supporting me on this :D

(also, @glitchbookss have the content bro)

This is my first time writing a fic, so some parts might sound missing, or rushed😭

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The once perfect ground, now murky, and ruined.

People, mangled by swords on their throats, lay lifeless on the ground.

The distinct smell of blood tainted by the demonic sect.

 Mingling with dark, heavy fog covering the once bright sky.

Chung Myung's breath came in short gasp as he couldn't take his eyes away from his dying friend, despite the countless dead bodies scattered everywhere in the battlefield.

  'Is this how it ends?' Tang Bo questioned.

But no one answered. Nobody could answer.

Only the frantic sound of Chung Myung's breathing filled the air.

   'Hyung-nim....'

With no thoughts, Tang Bo slowly gaze his eyes on Chung Myung who was trembling uncontrollably while gripping his hand. Desperately infusing his inner energy onto Tang Bo's body, but no matter how hard he tried, the blood flowed with no end.

Although Tang Bo was barely conscious, he withheld himself from closing his eyes, and calmly looked at his old, panicked friend that refuses to leave him.

"Chung Myung..." 

Hearing Tang Bo's weak voice, Chung Myung quickly looked into his eyes with distraught.

And.. he sees Tang Bo.. Smiling...?

Hah..

Is this really the time to smile, you crazy bastard? 

Tang Bo let out a faint chuckled at Chung Myung's glare.

     'Still the same...' he thought

Tang Bo knew he was dying, but he didn't want to see his hyung with such a stupid, helpless face. That face was unlike him after all. So he's glad to see that annoying face one last time.

 Tang Bo grinned at him, and softly uttered his words

"Hyung-nim... I have a favor to ask for you.."

The words lingered in Chung Myung's ears as he slowly stared intently at Tang Bo, clutching his hands even further.

"Please..

 Look after the clan..

 and my people.. "

Tang Bo abruptly stops speaking, and lets out a deep breath.

"...𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮"

He uttered his final words with a bright smile before closing his eyes.

***

With a void filled with darkness

Emptiness

Black

Everything was black 

 

Lifeless

He couldn't 𝐬𝐞𝐞 anything

Or even 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 anything

It was just a vast emptiness

'Is this what death feels like?' 

'Just nothing?'

 .....

'Fuck this really'

     

'This seems more painful than dying!'

'Do I have to be stuck in here for eternity?'

'such bullshit exist?'

'Why am I even able to think if I'm dead?'

'Am I even dead?'

'...'

'ah.. I'm going crazy..'

Tang Bo's mind was filled with question after question, But there was no one no reply.. 

That's pissing him off even more!!

'Ohhh, my fate!!'

With nothing more to do, and no one else to talk to.

all that remained was himself. 

In the empty void.. 

By himself...

Ah, shit...

That doesn't sound good...

Tang Bo being all alone wasn't new

Especially, because he was born in the Tang Family.

There was a reason why Tang Bo was outcast in his clan. With their abundance of over-reliance on traditions, and poisons. He couldn't stand the idea of the Tang Family's ideals slowly becoming repressing. No, he hated it more than anyone.

'This is the pride of the Tang Family'? Sure, let those bastards call it whatever they like.

The ancestors of the Tang Family might come back alive, and shout at their blissful ignorance of the pride they once left behind!

Though, despite distancing himself from the Tang members,

All he experienced was bittering loneliness. 

It felt as if he was a bird trapped inside a cage. Isolated, yet all of it was intentional.

 He wouldn't leave the cage, even if the gate was opened. But should he leave? When the owner of the bird is standing right in front of him?

The bittering loneliness didn't matter. It was better to detach yourself than to suffer from oppression. The cage was better than the the people after all.

Besides, the only friend he ever needed was his Hyung-nim. That demon-like guy..

'Ah.. I miss him already..'

Who could ever replace Chung Myung? He was the guy that fought thousands of demonic cultist, the one who achieved many victories. The one that miraculously gave hope to humanity. The one that used to beat the shit out of other sects. The madman that causes problem everywhere he goes, the one-

Ah.. I should stop mentioning him...

He'll beat the shit out of me if I did.

But.. 

Why is that I prefer getting my ass beaten by him than being stuck here....?

...

 

Again, No one could answered him.

Silence echoed through the void.

He was all by himself.

All alone in this pitch black oblivion.

Tang Bo vaguely remembers Chung Myung's face when he was about to die.

A face filled with despair, and emotion. A face he never seen before.

'I'm sorry hyung-nim..'

'That I have to leave you'

'That you have to carry my responsibility..'

' I wish we can meet one more time ' 

Slowly, and Surely  his mind turned dark, and numb.

As if his existance started to waver

Being in this.. 'void', There was nothing Tang Bo could ever do.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

SHRNNG-

Hm....?

𝙎𝙃𝙍𝙉𝙂𝙂𝙂𝙂𝙂𝙂-

Suddenly, A light was being shoned.

Every passing second, the light was getting brighter, and brighter.

With no words to say, the light swallowed him whole.

.

.

.

Awakened by a flash of light. Tang Bo sluggishly opened his eyes, and hears drips of water, and an overlapping, inaudible voices in the background.

Tang Bo slowly lift his upper body from the ground, and carefully observed his surroundings, even if his sight was blurry.

'Where..?'

The grating sound of footsteps on the concrete, and the shouts of vendors promoting their products, loud enough to be heard from a mile away.

Although he was positioned in a narrow alleyway, he could illustrate a crowd of people walking back, and forth further down the path.

The sounds of water dripping into the bucket resonated next to him. He raise his head towards the spark of the dimly lighted sky with his hand blocking the light from his face.

Staring at the covered sky, his vision was still fuzzy. Everything he sees was like a fog that obscures his sight. The colors were blended together, and the blurry vision didn't help, However his eyes flinches when he shifted his focused into his hands. Instantly, the foggy vision moved away as if it was a lie.

'!?'

Tang Bo blinks in surprise as he observes his hands more keenly. He move his hand in all directions, then blankly look at it with a hint of confusion.

Dumbfounded, He quickly probe his chest to see any wounds.

'No sword..?'

As he examined his body more intently, he realize that his body got.. smaller? and frail..??

He then, steadily observes his clothes.

He.. He's wearing a beggar's clothes...?

Me? A beggar?

He swiftly looked at the bucket of water besides him.

The face that reflected in the water looked familiar. No, rather, It looked just like him when he was younger, which was strange.

What's weirder is that he looked like a ghost.. Hold on, Forget that! What's happening right now!?!?

With little time to think, Suddenly a person behind him shouts.

"Myeong-suk!"

Tang Bo quickly looked into the direction of the loud voice.

A slightly bulky person who appears to be his early 20s, with tattered, and ragged clothes was walking hastily towards him.

"What are you here slacking for, Myeong-suk!? We're about to leave!!" The beggar yelled.

Tang Bo tilts his head, and looked side to side. then, he swiftly point his fingers at himself.

"Me..?"

"Yes, you! Who else do you think I'm talking to!?"

"wait-.."

"Don't even think of spouting excuses! You've been sleeping all day long, Just hurry up if you don't want to be left behind!"

In an instant, the beggar grabbed Tang Bo's hand, and briskly scurry their way out of the alleyway.

This bastard?

To think I have been dragged damn beggar!?

It wasn’t that Tang Bo let himself be dragged on purpose, but he couldn’t stop him because— God damn it! Why is he so damn strong?

Struggling to break the beggar's grip, he went to strike the beggars neck. But it was futile..

Huh? Why was my strike weak?

It only seemed like a feeble poke..? The beggar didn't even notice that I stroke him!

Since when have I ever been delicate?

This makes no sense??

He opened his mouth to ask the beggar, but he was panting heavily that words couldn't be formed.

Eh?

I've only been running for a few meters though? Wait, no- It's not even a run? It's much more of hasty walk than anything, and I'm getting breathless by this nonsense?

As they leave the narrowed hallway, the dim light slowly shined brightly above him. The shouts of noises grew louder, and louder as they walked passed through multiple people that has an appearance of both a merchant, and a thug.

He tried to focused his mind to the environment, but he could feel the fatigue creeping in.

'When is this walk going to end!!' Tang Bo screamed silence.

***

For what felt like an eternity.

The two beggars finally arrive at their destination.

"Gu Chil, Myeong-Suk's here" The beggar said.

The beggar named Gu Chil took a glance on Tang Bo, well.. Myeong-suk who looks to be on a verge of dying.

"..."

Gu Chil slowly looked at the beggar with a disappointed gaze.

"Ha jun-ah.. Why does Myeong-suk look crippled..?"

"What do you mean? We only ran in a minute, He looks fine-" as the beggar named Ha jun leisurely looked at Myeong-suk, His eyes widen in confusion.

Myeong-suk really looks like he's about to die..

Hm..

...

"Are you constipated?" Ha Jun asks

Veins popped in Tang Bo's head as Ha jun speaks

'No, This crazy bastard! Are you looking for a death wish!?'

With Tang Bo's eye shooting fireballs at Ha Jun.

Ha Jun quickly looked away from his eyes, and picked on his ears.

Gu chil sighed at the situation uncovering in front of him.

Scratching his neck, Gu Chil spoke to Ha jun.

"Ha jun-ah.. You do know that Myeong-suk has an illness, right? you can't just let him run-"

But before Gu chil can finish his sentence a thunderous voice echoed.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTT???????????"

Tang Bo with bloodshotted eyes suddenly lunges towards Gu chil, and yelled.

"ILLNESSSSSSSSSS???? MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE???????"

Eh?? Myeong-suk?? why are you surprised?

Shouldn't you be the one who knows it best?

Bewildered, the beggars can only stare at Tang Bo as he huffs. Tang Bo wanted to talk, he NEEDED to talk, but he wasn't able to speak as he was out of breath.

He can only scream internally.

I have an illness?????

Me? MMEEEEEEEEEEE??????? The Dark saint!?!?!?!?

Tang Bo's eyes twitched at the thought of The Dark Saint, who was not only known for his sharp daggers, and deadly poisons, but for his knowledge on medicine that could save lives of a hundreds of soldiers, can have an ILLNESS?????????

Without any hesitation, Tang Bo quickly inspect his body. Other than being frail, there wasn't anything particularly wrong with it.

No major injuries, no more blurry visions, Though he does feel exhausted.

And his Dantian..

It was broken...

....

Silence fell in the air.

Tang Bo's eyes widen in shock as he looked at the broken Dantian circulating inside his body.

The Dantian is not something you can recover from easily, let alone fix it.

What is Dantian? It was something that fortifies the internal qi, and preserves it from leaking. but once it's broken, the individual would have difficulty properly gathering, or circulating their internal qi. Think of it as a broken vase. Keep pouring water, and it will continue to leak out.

An individual with a broken Dantian will gradually become weaker as time passes. They could still fight, just not with the same power as before.

People with the same issue wouldn't be able to display the full strength of the body that the qi lends them, and that being said, Tang Bo was utterly stunned.

Tang Bo quietly examined his broken Dantian. Fortunately it wasn't too shattered, but in spite of that, this can still be heavily injured in the near future if he wasn't careful.

However, could he really promise that?

Being cautious?

After everything he went through?

After witnessing several deaths of his brethren?

After seeing the loss of countless families, and children?

Could he surely stay still, and idly?

' I don't even know if hyung is still alive'

Tang Bo flinches at his thoughts.

'...'

As if the world decreased it's speed, everything moved slowly. Every single one of them.

However Tang Bo didn't noticed. He shouldn't.

Beyond everything that had happened, He's supposed to be dead. He 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 be dead.

It didn't made any sense for him to be here, standing on his own.

Isn't this just an imagination?

Tang Bo slowly looked at the sky as the sun glowed vividly from above.

He couldn't deny it. This was neither a fantasy, or a weird dream. Everything felt too real. His entire body was throbbing with pain, after all.

He closes his eyes, then laid his hands on the chest as he breathes the air.

"I've returned.."

A slight smile was formed as he speaks.

This must be the devil's work.. Was is it a resurrection? No.. maybe a buddhist reincarnation?

The question didn't matter, he has finally returned from the pits of hell.

The internal qi may be shattered, but panicking about it won't fix anything.

As long as he's alive, there's nothing that can stop him.

'I can just fix the qi as I move along..' Tang Bo thought

He quickly looked at Gu Chil with determination.

"Is the Heavenly demon still alive?" Tang Bo confidently asked

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anyways- Sorry if the fic is too casual, or lacks vocabulary- I'm not that good at english, and idk how to write it formally sksksk

This is my first time writing a fic, so feel free to criticise me!!

Also have bonus sketch of Tang Bo, Gu Chil, and Ha Jun lol.

[tonyboneysblog]

MOTHER HEN: PART SIX

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 1.7k

warnings: none!

notes: TECHNICALLY ITS BEEN THREE DAYS. also hawks wtf are you doing in this fic bro….

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

cold & scared.

That is how hawks feels at the moment, he’s getting fucking sick of these nightmares- they just get worse and worse.

he’s shaking, he can feel it.

he’s terrified to scream, doesn’t wanna wake you up- so only small grunts come out from him.

You wake up anyways, of course.

“Hawks?” Your voice calls to him, he’s still snug up next to you, using your chest as some makeshift pillow.

You shake him lightly, he wakes up with a gasp, heavy breathing.

“H-hey!” You grab onto him, cradling his head back to your chest.

He hears you whisper soft praises in his ear. he woke you up, he realizes.

“Y/n..?” He looks up at you.

“...are you okay?”

No, he’s not. He doesn’t want you to worry though, so he lies.

“I’m fine.”

“Hawks…you can tell me.” You caress his hair softly, it’s like you know his weakness.

But he can’t tell you, genuinely he can’t.

“Nightmares? I used to have them a lot too.” You smile nervously.

Of course you break his resolve with that.

He starts to ramble quickly, “Fuck- y/n I can’t stand them, they’re so scary I-i can’t-“

You rub his back, lovingly.

it makes him want to throw up.

especially after what he saw in that dream, you, hurt, screaming.

You make your way to his soft feathers, brushing through them softly, fixing them.

would that be considered preening?

“I don’t want to sleep anymore y/n, I can’t take it.”

Your heart breaks, Fumikage always dealt with nightmares after Ryuji.

Ryuji.

“Nightmares, they just get worse every night don’t they?” You say softly.

Hawks sighs, “I shouldn’t have bothered you with it.”

Ryujis quirk is dream manipulation, that’s how he always got you to apologize to him after an agreement.

After he and hawks little spat at the store, you bet Ryuji decided to torture him a bit.

You’ll stop those bad dreams for hawks.

You smile at him, “Don’t worry, they’ll be gone soon.”

then you kiss his temple.

you kiss his temple.

like you always did when Fumikage had a bad one.

Fucking muscle memory- always kicks you in the ass.

Hawks looks shocked, like he didn’t expect it, obviously because it was random.

“S-sorry, Fumi-“

“What are you trying to get out of me y/n?” Hawks looks at you hurt and confused.

Kinda like you reset the way he thought, or dealt with things- he always flirted with you so this probably didn’t help him.

It just hurt him since you always take the, “no romantic” approach.

“What?”

“I’ve been pinning you for weeks, a-and you just keep giving me these mixed signals?!” His voice raises slightly.

“I-I..well I don’t know hawks-“

“A-and then you asked me to kiss you last night? The same night you were flirting with some guy at the bar?”

Well you definitely did do that..

“Now- here you are comforting me like I’m some child.”

“Well.. I’m just used to Fumi-“

Hawks pulls himself away from your touch, “Just answer the question.”

You were dreading this slightly, you knew hawks was a little more flirty than most of your guy friends.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what you wanted.

You thought you did with Ryuji but…he hurt your son, your Fumikage.

You don’t want that ever happing again.

“Hawks..I want to be honest with you.”

“Then be honest, y/n.”

“I can’t, not after Ryuji.” Your voice is raw, you hated what Ryuji did, what he’s doing now.

“I can’t have someone hurt Fumikage like that again.”

He clutches his fists, “I’m a hero y/n, what do you expect from me- to hurt some kid?!”

“Well his father was a hero too and try and try to ask me where he is now.” You say bitterly.

Then it’s quiet, you could almost hear Ryuji for a minute.

Hawks gets up from your bed, “I’m done.”

“What..?”

He immediately rushes out of your home, past the kitchen, the one where he first gave you his number.

Past the hallway, the one where Ryuji hit your son.

Then out the door, he doesn’t even slam it.

He’s gentle, like he doesn’t wanna cause a ruckus.

Your face feels wet, tears are streaming down it.

Why couldn’t you just say nothing? why’d you have to tell him the truth?

Why did you say anything.

Fumikage opens the door, his face shifts into shock and runs over to you.

“Mother, what happened?” His voice filled with worry.

“Nothing, Fumi…just a bad dream.”

Fumikage hugs you, you hug back.

And you break.

Fumikage can feel his heart straining, he doesn’t know how to comfort you, he knows you’re not telling him the truth at the very least.

“I’m sorry Fumi.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, mom.”

And you cry, until you can’t anymore.

You’re probably just worrying Fumikage all over again.

You collect yourself, “I have to go run some errands..”

“Do you want me to come with?”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Fumikage doesn’t need to see him.

It’s only one errand anyways.

You stalk over to your car, you have work tomorrow morning- then the next week Fumikage has the sports festival.

You rack your brain with everything you need to do, what’s happening next week, trying to distract yourself from the days earlier events.

All while you drive to his house, getting out of the car, knocking on the door.

It’s opens.

“Y/n?” Ryuji says confused.

You look down at your feet, “Ryuji, please leave hawks alone.”

You hated looking at him.

Ryuji scoffs, “why, the poor baby can’t handle a couple bad dreams?”

“Ryuji…please.” You beg him softly.

You hated begging him.

You look up at him, you can tell his own quirk is taking a toll on him. His eyes are dark and purple, he’s looks pale.

“I know it’s effecting you too, I don’t want that for you Ryuji.”

You hated how you always lied.

“You and your charm, y/n.” Ryuji shakes his head.

“You have no reason to hurt hawks, we’re not even dating Ryuji-please.”

You hated how much you cared.

“Is that the only reason that you’re coming over here?” Ryuji says slowly, carefully, softly even.

“I know you’re sensible…with whatever love you still have for me in your heart- please use towards not harming hawks..he- he doesn’t deserve it.” You plead.

Ryuji sighs, thinking it over.

He looks down, kicking dirt slightly.

“Fine, it’s fucking exhausting for me anyways.”

You smile at him, “I can not begin to thank-“

“Now get off my property y/n, i gave you what you wanted.”

You nod quickly and walk over to your car.

Well convincing Ryuji was easier than you expected, then again he always listened to you.

Hawks on the other hand was doing no errands, did he have a job? Yes! did he want to do said job after the morning he just had?

no.

he was exhausted from all of these nightmares plaguing him, he though maybe sleeping next to you would help but no!

Even the hero’s could tell something was up, said hero was Mirko.

“What crawled up your ass this morning?”she cheerfully called to hawks.

“The usual.” He called back from his post.

Mirko smiles, “I got some coffee, get down here will ya?”

Hawks flies down next to mirko, where she almost hands him a nice coffee but when he goes to grab it…she pulls away?

“Nope, tell me what’s wrong first.”

He sighs and goes for the drink again, “Lady problems.”

Mirko bursts out laughing, effectively moving the coffee can away from his grasp.

“You and the lady’s man…you’re starting to act like a virgin yknow? Can’t ever keep a girl…” She smacks his shoulder.

But hawks doesn’t reply, or even laugh.

Mirko looks at him, “..seriously?”

“It’s hard to get your game on when you’re always busy Mirko…”

Mirko laughs again, clutching her stomach and flailing back and forth like a kid being tickled.

“God, that’s probably why your girl doesn’t want you!”

“She knows..”

“Oh really?”

“No, no she doesn’t know- why does that even matter?!” Hawks says with agitation.

Mirko plops the coffee can on his head, “depends, what typa girl is she?”

“Doesn’t matter, I left her earlier today cause she didn’t know what she wanted.”

Mirko shakes her head, “that’s how it’s like with the younger ones, hawks..they don’t know what they want!”

Hawks sighs and looks away, “she’s actually 32..”

Mirko stays quiet.

“And she has a kid.”

“Hawks, what the fuck.” Mirko says breathlessly, staring at the people crossing the street.

“And she had some type of abusive relationship before she met me.”

“gyad dayum, hawks that’s probably why she’s a little iffy, you numb nut..”

“Her son called me that too.”

Mirko gasps, “you met her son??”

The two of them are quite, hawks is a little glad he was able to let this off of his chest.

“And what did you say to her…cause I’m assuming you fought earlier today since you…’left her’”. She says the last part with quotations.

“I said I was done…” hawks looks away ashamed, regret filling his body.

He’s really liked you, would you forgive him for such a moment of weakness?

…would Fumikage forgive that…?

“Hawks-what are you doing man, get it together, you lost some traumatized milf- you know how many people want that?!”

“A lot?”

Mirko shoots up her hands, “yes- a lot of people!”

Mirko sighs, “I think you fumbled man…”

And hawks just stares at the ground, maybe he should apologize to you- no, nope hawks is not going to face you.

Truthfully he doesn’t like dealing with things he doesn’t have to deal with.

he still has your blanket.

Smells like you too.

“Hawks..”

“Mirko.”

Mirko pulls his ear, “Your ears are red”

“What should I do? I don’t really wanna talk to her..” hawks looks back up at Mirko.

“How olds her kid?”

“16.”

Mirko raises her voice, “Six-“ then she sighs, “why am I even surprised.”

“He goes to U.A. too”

Mirkos eyes light up, “that’s great, just wait til the sports festival and make him your sidekick!”

Hawks nods in agreement.

“Now I have to go on patrol” he throws the empty can towards Mirko.

Hawks then flies up towards the skys, thinking of you and Fumikage.

How he could possibly fix this.

well at least he has Mirko to guide him…?

TAG LIST: comment to be tagged😘😘

@lost-in-horrorland @boopjuice @validveenus @qardasngan @arminsarlerts @star-the-rabid-dog @bunni-teeth81 @lightsgore @portgasdbruh @camejlo-35 @marsbars09 @tharae514 @yoongiwantsme @kimahrii

everyone I see yall comment it lowkey makes my day better….DADDY TONY LOVES YOU GUYS.

[pandorxxx]

Slumber Party

Lo’ak x Omatikaya fem reader (all aged up)

I want to thank my favorite girl @atxxokirina for the idea, and for writing half of this fic with me. I love you, mama💞🥺!

Warnings: Heavy smut, cursing, p in v, Voyuerism, multiple orgasms, creampie. Soft-dom lo’ak (cheating).

Synopsis: when you have another bad dream, you go to your bestfriends hut. You see his girlfriend sound asleep, yet lo’ak still invited you in, even gave you a room to yourself. What happens when he offers to watch over you?

🔞mdni🔞

You and Lo’ak were always close. Even when you two were little, it was always a big bro, little sis kind of relationship. You were always really shy, so it made you an easy target for bullies. Lo’ak was a hot head, and he had no issue coming to your defense, even if that meant a fight or two.

A part of you was somewhat of attracted to it. You know, having your own personal bodyguard wherever you went, and him being total eye candy helped a lot as well. You thought that this whole thing would change once he got a girlfriend, but maybe you were wrong.

He continued to protect you. Accompany you everywhere, and he couldn’t give two shits what his girlfriend thought about it. She could either get with it, or get lost. So when you showed up at his hut door, visibly shaken up, he let you in. No hesitation.

“What happened, bro? Who did this?” He whispered, waving you into the hut. You sighed, walking in swiftly for him to shut the door. You hated that you were so damn needy. You didn’t mean to be, but you knew that Lo’ak would be there for you whenever.

“No, I had another bad dream.” You reassure, trying to be as quiet as possible, being sure not to wake his sleeping girlfriend. She was sprawled out in the sheets, an empty spot next to her where Lo’ak was.

“So no one hurt you, right?” He asked again, a cocked eyebrow as he awaited an answer. You rolled your eyes. “No, psycho.” You whispered, briefly glancing at his girlfriend. He noticed, pulling you in for a hug by your wrist. He held the back of your head, his other hand dangerously low on your back.

“Don’t worry about her. You can sleep in the guest room.” He reassured, his strong hand rubbing your lower back slowly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being alittle too affectionate. But maybe it was just a slip up. So you decided to correct it. You reached around, placing your hand on his, guiding it up to the middle of your back.

“I’m just being friendly. No?” He joked, grabbing your other hand to guide you into the guest room. You scanned the spacious hut one last time before you entered the spare room. Once you walked in, you heard the door close. You turned around to see Lo’ak.. Still in the room.

“Oh, I-I can sleep by myself. I just needed your presence. Thank you, Lo’ak.” You spoke nervously, plopping down on the cot, feeling the fresh soft sheets in between your fingers.

“If you don’t mind, I just wanna stay until you fall asleep. You’d be more comfortable with me here anyway.” He smiled, leaning back against the wall, his head slightly tilted up.

He was nothing short of perfect, to say the least. And you’d be a fool to deny that. However, his girlfriend was literally in the next room. If she woke up and found you both in the room together, she wouldn’t be too happy.

“Oh Lo’ak, I don’t know. Won't she be mad?” You asked innocently, scooting back against the headboard and bringing your knees to your chest as he watched you intently. Such an innocent girl you were. And it made his head spin.

“She’ll be fine. I’m just worried about you right now. I wouldn’t want you having another bad dream, and I’m not here to console you.” He explained, a genuine tone in his voice. You nodded nervously, scanning the room once again.

He walked over to the bed, laying down flat for his own comfort. He looked up at you, arms out signaling for you to come closer. You stared at him for a few seconds, contemplating wether or not this was a good idea. He noticed, and chuckled

“Oh come on, I don’t bite.” He joked, using his hands in a 'come here' motion. You gulped, sliding down into his embrace. Your right ear finding refuge on his chest, listening to his clam heartbeat. You threw your arm over his torso, and snuggled closer to him.

He rubbed your arm gently, squeezing it firmly a few times. “Comfortable?” He asked, reaching his right hand down to grab the folds of your leg, bringing it on top of his groin. His strong hand began to caress the side of your thigh, and you could feel the slick forming in your loincloth. Your header began to beat rapidly, and now all you wanted to do was be under him. You didn’t want his hands to move. You wanted them all over you.

You nodded, too afraid to make a sound. With the way you were feeling, it might’ve came out way more erotic than usual. “Good. Get some sleep. I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He explained, planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

He began to get more comfortable, shifting his hips a bit before closing his eyes. However, that little movement revealed his true arousal. You could feel his clothed cock stiffen, second by second. You tried to ignore it, but once it started to rub against your inner thigh, you had to say something. You looked up in his embrace, seeing his eyes closed and his breathing gentle. He had fallen asleep already.

“Umm, Lo‘ak? Lo’aaaak?” You whispered tapping his chest. He shifted a little bit, but his eyes remained closed. “Hmm?” He hummed softly, turning his entire body to the side, bringing you closer than you’d ever been. Now, you could REALLY feel it pressed against your slippery cunt.

“Um, y-your, uhh-“ you stuttered, making his eyes blink open slowly. Once he came to his full senses, he located the problem immediately. Glancing down in between you both, seeing his loincloth practically bursting at the seams.

“Mmm. Shit, I-I’m sorry y/n.” He whispered, backing away from you alittle bit. He sat up, placing a pillow over his lap. You sat up as well, eyeing his fidgety demeanor in curiosity.

“It’ll go down in a minute, just… roll over and go to sleep, ok? I’m right here still.” He strained, throwing his head back against the wall. He’d never been this hard in his life. It was so stiff, that it hurt, badly. And it just didn’t seem like it was going to go down any soon, especially being next to you.

“You look like you’re in pain.” You stated the obvious, eyeing his tensed abs. You went to comfort him, fingertips just grazing his forearm before he grabbed your wrist.

“No, mama. Don’t touch me. Not now.” He chuckled, still visibly uncomfortable. He let your wrist go. And you immediately placed your hand ontop of the pillow.

“Can I help? Will your girlfriend be mad?” You ask, grabbing the plush of the pillow, sliding it off of his lap slowly. He was so sensitive that the friction alone almost made him release. A series of grunts leaving his mouth as he watched the pillow leave his lap.

“I wouldn’t wanna take that sweet innocence away from you.” He grunted, an uncomfortable chuckle following.

“Who said I was innocent?” You question, titling your head in confusion. His pupils widen, shifting his attention to you. His eyes trailed, your body slowly, jaw clearly tightened in restraint before looking at the door. He sighed, eye contact shifting back to you.

“Yeah? Think you can handle it? And keep that pretty mouth shut?” he asked, going to untie his loincloth strategically, knowing that you wanted him more than anything right now. You nodded slowly, waiting patiently for his cock to grace your presence. And when it did, you were speechless. His heavy cock hit his stomach, creating an obnoxious slap against the skin. It was huge, intricate veins running up his shaft, as the freckles danced under the dimly lit room.

His strong hand found the base, slowly stroking himself as he let out a few breathy moans at the contact. His hips would meet his thrusts ever so slightly, as he watched the precum leak out of the slit.

The site had you ready to pounce on him, take him as your own. Fuck his girlfriend, YOU wanted him now. He glanced up at you with hooded eyes, still pleasuring himself. He signaled you to come closer with one finger. You obliged, shuffling to sit in between his spread legs.

“Take it off.” He smiled, glancing down at your dripping loincloth. He kept a steady pace on himself, as he watched your next move. You sensually speak your legs over his, opening yourself up to him. You hooked your fingers under the strings and untied quickly, eyes his raging cock the entire time.

You swiftly slide the loincloth from under you, holding it up before letting it slip out of your delicate fingers. Your cunt was dripping onto the sheets beneath you. A faint squelching sound every time you moved slightly.

“Shit. I got you like that, huh?” He moaned, head finding refuge on the headrest as he eyes you lustfully. You let out a giggle before gathering a little spit on your fingers before rubbing your clit slowly. Your head immediately dipping back in pleasure with a low moan.

Lo’ak continued that painfully slow rhythm on his cock, trying his best to let you cum first now. He watch you though, and intense glare right to your core. He was aroused by the way you pleasured yourself. Two fingers rubbing the bundle of nerves before dipping down to your dripping hole, teasing it before repeating the same thing over and over again. It made his head spin.

He began to pick up the pace slightly, breathily groans escaping his mouth. He would tease the tip, rubbing his thumb over the slit to gather drips of precum, before jerking his entire length again. He was so damn close.

“Mmm, open yourself up for me.” He groaned, his hips bucking into his hand firmly. You knew exactly what he meant, trailing your fingers down to your hole again, pushing them inside slowly.

“Ohh fuck.” You whispered, setting a merciless rhythm on yourself from the start, desperate for a release at this point. Your fingers curled upward, hitting your sweet spot with every pump of your dainty fingers. You could feel it, building in your stomach as your abs flexed.

“Lo’ak?” You whimpered, legs trembling over his. He sent you an all-knowing grin. “What’s wrong, mama? Talk to me.” He moaned, nodding his head as reassurance. He was going hard now, so hard that you could hear the heavy slaps with each thrusts to his hand.

“I-I'm gonna cum.” You strained, immediately covering your mouth to hold in the loud moan that was seconds away from escaping. “Hell yeah you are, baby. Be quiet for me though, ok?” He moaned, his face screwing in pleasure from his in coming orgasm.

You nodded, eyes rolling back before you came undone. Your cries being muffled by your hand. Yet and still, you kept the same rhythm, over stimulating yourself so much that you fell back, hips bucking uncontrollably as you squirmed.

“Fuuuuck, baby. Make that pussy squirt for me, please.” He whimpered, watching your fingers exit your body, a waterfall coming behind it. You tapped your cunt quickly, squealing as another waterfall sprayed out of you, all over lo’aks cock.

“Yes, yes oh shiiit. I’m right there, fuck.” He hiccuped, biting his bottom lip as ropes and ropes of cum squirted out and onto his flexed abs. He let out a sigh of relief, releasing his cock, watching it thumb with every heartbeat.

“Mmm I n-need more, mama. Come here.” He groaned, pulling you up by your arm forcefully. You were fucked out, but ready for more with a delirious grin.

You lazily crawl over him, your knees caging his thighs in. You hovered over him, the tip just probing at your entrance. He held the base of his cock steady, guiding himself into you slowly. Your mouths both fell agape, silent cries leaving as you looked into eachothers eyes.

One final push and he was all the way in, thrusting his hips up once with a low groan. He was deep, really deep. So deep that his tip was probing at your cervix. But that didn’t matter to him, atleast. He wrapped his strong hands around your tiny torso, bouncing you on his hard shaft.

“Eywa, that’s it! Fuuuuck that’s it.” He moaned, his head falling back against the headrest as his eyes screwed shut. Pathetic sounds leaving his mouth as he fucked you harder.

A deep breath leaves your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as Lo'ak fucks into you. "Oh my..." You gasped, but it came out as more of a moan. He continues to thrust his hips up, plowing into your cunt as your juices mix. Your cream and his precum made such nasty noises together. "Fuck, Lo'ak! You're fucking me so good! Don't stoppp!" You whine, now meeting his pace.

"I know it feels good. But- fuck! You gotta stay quiet mama," he whimpers, struggling to keep at his motion. You notice and lean down to his neck, peppering wet kisses on his collarbone as grind back on his cock. "Shiiit..." He completely lets you take over, breath becomes heavy as he hold your waist. You nibble on his neck, kitten licking the start of his nape as you hum. "Stop, nggh.. she's gonna see these, y/n. Don't get me in trouble." Lo'ak huffs, attempting to resist your advances, but each attempt is useless. You decide to ignore him, bouncing harder to shut him up. He's holding back each wave of pleasure you give him.

"Mmm, am I better than her? Tell me daddy, do I fuck you better?" You mewl with desperation in your voice, lifting yourself up to hold down on his chest, pushing a sinful, deep moan out of his throat. "What?" Lo'ak asks, breath catching in his throat. He's close, and you can tell. Might as well have some fun with it. "You're gonna cum inside me." You demand with a moan, shifting your hips from either side, making sure he's deep inside. "I can't do that, mama. You know this- f-fuck!" He growled, fighting his urge to creampie you.

You look down at him, shaking your head and flashing a fake frown. "But you want to," you shove down on his chest. "..you need to." You felt him pulsating around your spongey walls. His balls ready to burst and fill you to the brim. "C'mon daddy, please cum inside me. Please..." You whine in a way he can't resist. He's biting down on his lips hard, fangs almost drawing blood. Lo'ak knows he shouldn't. He knows it wrong, but he's already made it this far. "Shit, come here." He grunts, using your wait to push your body back down onto him. Lo'ak retracts his hips, just to push himself all the way back inside.

A staggered moan extracts from your throat as he sets a merciless rhythm. The kind of rhythm that left your mouth agape as silent screams fell from it. The kind of rhythm that had tears falling down your flushed cheeks. The kind of rhythm that had you trying to lift off of him forcefully. However, with no luck, he bring your hips back down, fucking into you like his life depended on it.

“No, No, No mama. Stop running.” He moaned, grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands, locking them there while he fucked you senseless. “Lo’ak, pleassssee!” You raised your voice slightly, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Come on. You’ve gotta keep that pretty voice down. Want me to get in trouble?” He asked, voice rippling from very hard thrust. "Uh uh! N-No!" You moan and pant, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure. "I'm c-close.." You whimpered as he continues to hump into your pussy. With the sounds your bodies were making, it's a miracle his girlfriend was still asleep.

"Fuckk! I'm gonna cum. Want me to fill this tight pussy?" He groans, and you mewl and nod in response. Lo'ak gives you one hard, deep, thrust. "Huh?? Couldn't hear you. Use your words, mama." You whine, feeling that familiar feeling in your lower parts get closer and closer. "Yes I do, Lo'ak! Please, please fill me up daddy!" You hum in his ear, making him go fucking crazy. "I-I'm cumming now! Cum inside me Lo'ak! Cum inside!" You both let out a deep, desperate moan in unison. Your squirt, and his seed mixing together inside of you.

You're panting, and so is he. Completely out of breath as he forces eye contact with you. You pulled into him, leaving one last kiss on his jawline. Lo'ak lifts his body up, removing himself from you with a light squelch and a deep end grunt. "I don't think you'll have anymore nightmares, mama. Just stay with me from now on."

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina (💜) @yeletta @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

[ablobwhowrites]

I’m going to make angst for vampire y/n and parent y/n, so beware. But right now here's some silly stuff about the DC y/n's and maybe some sneak peak at some other stuff I'm writing about.

Vampire y/n likes to sneak out of the manor sometimes but just sticks around the manor mainly because this is their new home and they don't want to stray to far from it. They do get concerned on how Bruce gets the blood y/n needs to feed but doesn't question it cause they are scared of the answer. Also they have the classic vampire get up with a cape but doesn't wear it a lot because bro does not want to walk around in that stuffy suit. But mostly wears regular clothes and is wondering if they could cute their hair and also has bunny slippers they wear that Jason got y/n. Also totally imagining when its Halloween, y/n loves to go try and find a haunted house and go into it or participate in it cause they can scare people but it’s alright cause it’s Halloween and they feel in place cause everyone sees them as a great costume also they maybe take a candy or two to snack on. Alfred would scold them after cause I imagine Alfred is one of those people who say that sweets before dinner ruins their appetite.

Jason: “I was meaning to ask you, what’s that pocket on your shirt?”

Tim: “Oh, y/n’s in here, sup y/n”

*vampire y/n in bat form in Tim’s shirt pocket*

Ex villain y/n likes making Damian made because when he gets mad he basically looks like batman scowling and how they do that is when it's Christmas and y/n puts a elf on the shelf in Damian's room as they found out from Jason, he hates that doll. They live at Wayne manor for the most part but if things ever go south for any reason, they have a secret place to stay at if things ever go that way but mostly things seem to be alright the hallucinations seems to be getting batter as the slade hallucinations and nightmares have been going away. But I do imagine they are still a bit afraid, just afraid that their place they can finally call home will be destroyed. They hope it doesn’t come to that. The Waynes accepted y/n as one of them and now they have brothers and a alright dad with Alfred that y/n considers a grandpa or something like that. It’s something that y/n doesn’t want to give up but sometimes, they are afraid, afraid of slade ever finding them. Or even go back to being a villain to being what slade made them to be.

I imagine that parent y/n finds the letter from penguin asking for them go on a date and y/n gets a baby sitter for his daughter as he wants to try and at least go dating again. Everything goes smoothly and I do imagine y/n pulling out the suit that he got when he was able to scrape some money together to go to a fancy place for him and his late wife and imagining the sit still fits after so long and when on the date with penguin, I imagine for the first time he felt young again. Felt like the night that he proposed to this wife, he felt happy again, even if she’s gone at least she’s forever with him even in moments like this.

I trying to perfect a fic I’m doing for detective y/n but I’m still rusty with fic writing after so long so hopefully I get it out soon😭

(But that’s all for my yap session, a little happy stuff before the angst arc but if you guys wanna know more about these y/n are have any story ideas or requests, please feel free to send a ask but that’s all for now, stay safe and drink water!)