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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 8 months

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Hii, hope u're doing ok in ur break. If the slot is till open, can i request Sir Pentious n Alastor with a dom male! reader who used to be a detective before he died?

I like the thought of Alastor being with someone who's supposed to arrest him (lol), and making him call the reader 'sir' a lot.

You Have The Right To Remain Silent... If You Can~

Sir Pentious

You slammed the serpent onto the desk, bending him over as you slid a hand down his scaly form, gripping his surprisingly curvaceous hips.

Yanking his head back by his hood, you growled in his ear.

"Where are you hiding the weapons?"

The man gasped softly, back arching as he swallowed the lump in his throat, scaly rear almost presenting to you.

"I'll never tell!" He whined, trying to pull from your grasp, only to moan as you gripped his hood even tighter, pulling him close.

You yanked his arms back, snapped a pair of cuffs onto him.

They were cheap cuffs, stuff from a xheapo store, you sure if the man tried hard enough they'd break, yet you knew he wouldn't, the man whining softly as you leant over him.

With a sadistic smile, you gripped his face, pulling him in close.

"Tell me, and this can be easy. Ooor you could resist, and I could be very, very Hard on you~" you growled, practically grinding on him.

The man simply moaned, biting his lower lip.

"So, you think you can break me?! I'd love to see you try!" He cried triumphantly, as you leaned in, breathing heavy on his neck.

You smirked, yanking on his hood as you slammed his face into the desk.

"Oh don't worry. I'm not scared to throw the book at you." You growled, leaning in close, practically purring in his ear. "But with you, snake boy... you should be careful, cause if you keep resisting imma spank you with it."

You growled, slapping his scaly "ass", Pentious moaning lewdly as he practically pushed back in your hand.

The man all but whining as you manhandled him.

You had some back and forth, Pentious declaring he'd never reveal his secrets, you determined to 'drill' them out of him, using your 'experience' on Pentious. Putting that top notch detective experience to work.

Of course you weren't too rough. You were too experienced a detective to rough him up enough to leave marks, well, to leave bad marks, you left plenty of fun marks on the man, though even then he never minded a bit of rough play.

Having the man at your mercy was always a lovely thrill, Pentious a giddy idiot when intimate, but he was surprisingly capable at theatrics when in the mood, man a damsel at your mercy.

Well, not necessarily at your mercy, Pentious was totally in on it, the man all but eager to submit to 'your authority', putting up as much of a fight as he was expected too.

You didn't get too rough, well, not physically, as you didnt wanna leave marks, not that Pentious minded marks, he just didn't want the sort you couldn't explain off.

Pinning him to the desk, you'd hold him close, kissing and suckling his delicate neck flesh, drawing a string of moans and whines from the man, Pentious moaning loudly as you suddenly bit the snakes neck.

This was hardly the first time you'd played this role, Pentious particular to a bit of power play, especially when you so naturally knew your part.

And despite the man's craving for status and power, he relished the way you dominated him, a big goofy grin across his face as you used your once lawful abilities to hold power over others, the snake fascinated with almost supernatural power you held over him, almost as much as the hold you had on his body.

And while he'd never publicly admit it, the snake loved submitting every tume you took charge.

You treated him like any other perp, cuffing the man as you... had your fun~

Pentious loved every second of it, you always sure he enjoyed it, the snake loving it when you were in power.

This was a surprisingly big part of your relationship, the two of you having a deeply intimate connection.

Pentious relishing more then just the idea of you, but the sheer dominance you could exert, the man both loving and desperately wanting to emulate your dominant abilities.

And while the sexual aspect was always heavy, he really craved to know how to dominate, you trying to show the snake just how to be more dominant.

Yet despite your abilities and attempts, the man occasionally having bouts of success, you always held the cards in your relationship.

You'd of course teach the snake many of the skills you held.

You were a veteran detective before death, and as such you knew far more about the minds of others then many Sinners in Hell, a skill Pentious desperately wished to emulate.

Of course, when not engaging in Detective themed S&M, you had a deeply romantic relationship.

Pentious, despite himself, was desperate for intimacy. The man adoring the fact he had someone to care and attend to, and you damn well knew it.

The snake was always amazed at your deductive abilities, you able to trll much about him before he even spoke, you doing your best to teach him, too... mixed results.

But despite the regular 'Cops and Robbers' routine, you also had a deeply intimate relationship, you often spending great lengths of time with the man.

You, of course, let him keep something of an illusion of control, the man allowed to build his air fleet and egg-boi army, you keeping a watch of it all, but the man ultimately free to do as he pleased.

Of course, you barely had to assert yourself to dominate the man, Pentious immediately folding any time you so much as touched him, the Serpent relishing your touch in his life, craving your affection.

You had the snake wrapped around your fingers, Pentious loving it any time you flexed your power over him, The snake loving to puff up his ego, but the man quivering if you so much as purred in his ear.

You and your 'big bad snake' shared a deep, if lopsided, relationship, as while the man relished asserting his power and status, he adored when you asserted your power over him, two of you having a deeply adoring relationship.

Alastor

Your little back and forth with Alastor was long running, the man finding you exceptionally interesting.

You were in your 'office', the man sat in a chair as you stood over the man.

"My, Mr Detective, aren't you going to read me my rights?"

You simply smirked, yanking on his dishevelled neck tie, the man biting his lip as you stared down at the man, the Radio Demon's wrists bound behind his back.

The man who was so used to getting his way, that having the man at your whim, the man at your mercy, it was a refreshing change of pace for the man.

And if you happen to play into the roaring persona of an ABU agent eager to 'question' him with some... unorthadox interrogation tactics.

"Oh don't worry, I'll make sure you know every right and wrong you've got~"

Alastor knew this song and dance, having endured such treatment when alive, something he was sure to remind you of every time you had your little 'play sessions'.

You always eager to play into the role, playing up your persona, usually with a distinct shift, either rank or position, or his Crime.

Always making sure to play into it. Hard. Relishing your 'play time' with thr man, the dapper demon seemingly appreciating your theatrics as you pressed him into a wall. Or desk. Or the back of your car.

Or over your car.

Or on that ferris-wheel that one time.

Pressing your body to his, getting closer then any man ever had, binding his wrists with his own dress shirt as you slid your hands into his belt line.

"Looks like youll be going in for some Hard Time?"

You growling in his ear, working over his lithe form, drawing out a string of breathless moans from the man.

Alastor purred, a crackle of static as his back arched, you relishing this control, always managing to illicite a moan from the man.

The demon, despite his pride, was deeply susceptible to your detective persona, the man, in an oddly reminiscent episode enjoyed reliving his mortal years, the thrill of the back and forth. And of the Hunt~

The man was witty, and smug, as he was in life, always eager for your 'play time'. Which was iron8c since he wasnt all too partial to physical contact, yet with you he adored those 'rendezvous' always eager to elicit a rise out of you, man partial to some pain.

Though even as you slammed him against your desk, flesh pressed against flesh, the man always doing his best to keep up his smug persona, his way of encouraging you to 'put him in his place'.

You had an exceptionally smug back and forth every time, Alastor exceptionally snarky, well, until you smacked his ass, Alastor suppressing a whine as you leaning in close, biting his neck.

Now, Alastor would never admit as much, but he was very partial to a good bite on the neck, the man often whining like a doe when you sunk your teeth into the man's neck. A favour he would often return, you having more then a few bloody Tshirts due to the man.

The man would often end up as a whining, mewling mess, eyes crossing as you held the man down, turning Alastor into a moaning, whining mess, utterly submitting to you when in your office.

Of course the man would never admit as much publicly, keeping up his ever smug radio persona when in public.

But when in the privacy of your own home, he'd playfully submit, allowing you to 'take charge', you usually ending up inside of him.

One way or another.

The man, despite his pride, loved your little games of back and forths, able to experience real dominance, a breath of fresh air for such a powerful demon, the dapper demon so used to being the most powerful person in the room, he received an alien body of energy every time.

Of course, your past as a detective was always a point of teasing and prodding for the man, the man loving to work you up with idiotic questions until you'd end up snapping, said snapping usually ending with him bound to a chair, missing half his clothing, his neck utterly covered in big red bite marks.

A big dopey grin on his face with his hair all kinds'ah fucked up.

You were a constant source of entertainment, as whenever you werent 'investigating' something, i.e his body, you were usually enduring his teases and taunts, the man always happy to get a rise out of you, you quickly reminding him who was in charge.

Your favourite being to bind his wrists with his own bowtie, regularly blindfolding him before having your way with him, leaving a whole myriad of new marks and scars.

Alastor liked to pretend otherwise, but it was painfully obvious he was always eager for it, even as he moaned and squirmed, back arching as he practically begged, something he desperately tried not too do, but you always managed to squeeze it out of him, among with other things~

When not engaging in sexually deviance, the two of you had an exceptionally romantic relationship, as even as he was hesitant to show real intimacy, or well, public intimacy was mostly off the table.

Of course, you'd still manage to get something from the man, usually a simple kiss, or affectionate nuzzle, a monumental achievement for anybody. One you always celebrated in your own smug little way.

And yes, he'd never reveal the inner dynamics of your relationship, something you didn't blame him for, he was as vain as you were assertive. You still shared a loving, and disproportionately assertive, relationship, the two of you loving each other deeply, adoring each other. Usually with Alastor being bent over a desk being your favourite way to show it to each other~

#headcanon #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #sir pentious x male reader #sir pentious x reader #hazbin hotel sir pentious #alastor x male reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader

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morownic · 17 days

Text

you found your house, but where’s your home?

Japan was home to your childhood and the innocence you had lost a long time ago, and there was no way you would taint it with your deep, irremediable sorrow. You were never going back there. You were never going back home. (Have you ever had one?)

warnings/tags: NSFW MDNI (graphic descriptions of drug use, overdose, and blood; non-graphic smut), non-ultraman AU, afab + fem pronouns, non-graphic descriptions of a car accident, suicidal ideation

prev. // next — series masterlist · my other works · ao3

a/n: still written in the big spirit of oh no (tbh i was kinda convinced this song is practically gonna be the theme song for this series lmfao) + big influence of the breach + maps. this took a month to finish because i was in the trenches and my laptop broke lol thats why i didnt proofread and the ending is kinda ehh as well. i hope there are still people reading this though </3

Blues and purples washed over the crowd of college students as the party reached full swing. Music thumped in your chest as if it wanted to replace the beating of your heart, and drunken chatter rang in your ears as if they wanted to replace the voices in your head. Your eyes swept over the room, looking for a familiar face to ground yourself in the midst of your high. Some people greeted you as you made your way through the sea of bodies. Even though you failed to recognize most of them, you practically bounced as you greeted back and asked for their names and majors, complimenting them on their appearance and making small talk before moving on to the other person that had approached you. Mirth ran through your veins, so much so that it caused nausea to bubble in the depths of your stomach, as you kept moving from one conversation to another without so much as taking a breath and moving around with a twitch every now and then and a restlessness that slowly built up your exhaustion. When you finally saw Harley, your roommate, you gave the last person who spoke to you a jovial goodbye and a giddy side-hug before making your way toward her.

If you weren’t coked out of your mind, you would have immediately noticed the look on her face as she realized that you were not sober. Disappointment, concern, horror. You merely offered her the widest smile you could wear as you downed whatever the content of your cup was. The bitterness and burn of alcohol didn’t even make you flinch, and at that moment, you wondered if you should have heeded the sign that you gotta stop yourself now. Harley, on the other hand, looked at you as if you had just grown another head in front of her.

“Are you serious?”

Still, in your state, you couldn’t register her anger just yet. You were just confused as to what she was referring to as your smile slowly morphed into a frown. “What?”

“God, I thought you’ve been clean for–” Harley was momentarily interrupted by someone tapping on her shoulder, to which she responded with a rather aggressive ‘Give me a fucking minute!’ before she turned back to you. “You’re fucked. You’re really fucked.”

You were still puzzled, but your own indignation was starting to surface. “What the fuck’re you saying?”

The person behind Harley was saying something to her again, a sense of urgency evident in their speech and gesture, and you saw her gaze flickering between you and them. You caught her cursing under her breath before she said something you couldn’t hear to them and craned her head in your direction with a scowl on her face.

“I’ll be right back. Do not fucking do anything stupid, you hear me?!”

A glimpse of your roommate’s bleached hair was all you saw before she disappeared into the crowd. You couldn’t even process your interaction, let alone get another word in. The realization that you were alone, again, somehow sobered you up. Your eyes felt heavy as they swept over the room once more, hoping to find someone who could distract you from your approaching crash. Gone was the euphoria that ran through your veins and kept you moving. The bluish lighting lost its color and no longer cast a glow that made you feel at ease; its coolness only made you feel more despondent in the middle of the party. The steady pulse of the music somewhat replaced your slowing heartbeat, yet it was muffled in your ears, blending with the chatter around you that grated on your overstimulated nerves. Each breath and step you took as you aimlessly walked through the crowd were slower than the last. You had never experienced your high crashing down as quickly as this. You thought that maybe, just maybe, talking to someone else about some mundane things or the latest gossip would at least be better than going back to one of those bathrooms for a fix. But there was no one to drag you into their conversation, let alone drag you into some corner just to temporarily reprieve you from the weight of it all; everyone was lost in their own world, while you just wanted to run away from yours, to forget and forget and forget.

So you did what you had been doing for the past year to patch up that hole in your heart ever since your parents died.

The bathroom you slipped into was bathed in deep purple, with flickering fairy lights framing the mirror where you saw your own reflection. You almost broke down when you did, because you hated what you saw. To others, you looked fine, pretty even, what with how the silk dress fitted over your form, how the red of your lips and nails seemed to glow in the dark, how your hair still seemed effortlessly kept even though it was a bit disheveled. To you? You looked fucking horrible. If it weren’t for the dim lighting, everyone would have noticed the dark circles under your eyes that you had tried to hide with layers and layers of concealer and the hollow of your cheeks that you didn’t bother contouring. You were a couple pounds lighter than you had been a month ago. Your veins stood out like dark, winding rivers beneath your skin, and your metacarpals had bulged like tree roots protruding from the ground. You put your purse on the counter, sluggishly rummaging through its contents to find your stash. Pressure wrapped around your head like a rubber band as you fumbled with the items inside your purse, trying to control your breathing so that pressure wouldn’t snap. You pulled out a tiny, crumpled resealable bag filled with that godforsaken white powder.

(Couldn’t you have found another way to numb yourself?)

You carefully opened the bag and poured the amount that you thought could lift the crushing weight from your chest onto the counter. With an old credit card your father once gave you before he returned to Japan to run away from you and your mother again, you arranged a few neat lines that you couldn’t even count on one hand because of how distressed you were. Even if you had at least retained a bit of your rationale, you would only have given yourself a pat on the back for lining them nearly as straight as a ruler. You hastily ripped a piece of paper from the tiny notebook you carried with you, rolled it up, and placed it against your nostril.

One sharp inhale and your world burst back into color, it seemed.

No more of that suffocating burden in your chest. No more of that dull ache devouring your entire body. Only that abrupt, exhilarating thrill returning to your bloodstream. Your body tensed for a split second, with your gasp for air making you sound like you had been strangled by death himself just moments ago. (But even death would have been kinder to you than you did to yourself.) At least, this way, your world felt warmer. Not the cold, barren land that you never bothered to nurture, even more so after your parents had passed. Their faces coming to the forefront of your mind made you snort another line, and you were taken back to your childhood home in the Tokyo suburbs; home where your dad played baseball and watched recordings of the Giants’ games with you, where your mom pulled you in for a side-hug as she plated the tonkatsu she cooked for dinner, where you ran around in your backyard either playing with bubbles bought from the local festival or a kite your dad had made for you. Those memories hurt you enough to make you take another bump.

Peace was not something you could afford—not when the line you took, crossed, only made you remember his face. You held back a sob as you took yet another bump. He was just that doe-eyed boy in high school; the boy who laughed in earnest after you parroted some stupid middle school joke you heard from one of your old classmates, the boy who scored a home run that you cheered for so loudly you could barely speak the next day, the boy who made you feel vulnerable for the first time when you kneeled for someone else as if he was God and he later kissed you as if you were an angel, as if all those Sundays you spent at church with your mother were all in vain because he was the original sin that you could not rid yourself of. One line taken, crossed, for every thought of him. One line taken, crossed, for every image of him in your head. The euphoria and heartache enveloping your chest did little to tear you from your frenzy, and only when they turned into a weight heavier than the one you were trying to cast aside did it finally hit you.

“Oh, fuck.”

The devil was staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands felt clammy as they gripped the counter so hard that your knuckles turned white. Your heart beat violently against your ribcage that you were sure it was about to break. You found that it was getting harder to breathe with each sharp inhale that burned your nostrils. Instead of running away, it was as if you were being chased. As if God had enough of your bullshit and told you ‘Don’t you fucking run away’ as the room closed in around you. Everything blurred, darkened, as you grew numb and heavy. Your grip on the counter loosened before your hands finally fell on your sides. Gone was the euphoria that made your world feel at least a little worthwhile, replaced by the realization that something very wrong was going on with you. You swayed and lost your balance in one movement—damn your high-heeled feet, damn the black hole in your heart, damn all the gods and angels that ever existed that never heard your prayers—then you fell onto your knees, knocking your head on the edge of the counter. The only warmth you felt then was the blood trickling down your forehead as you collapsed sideways onto the floor.

Several minutes passed as you teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. During those minutes, you recalled not being able to breathe properly, if at all, as you instinctively yet weakly willed yourself to at least lie down on your side. The noise that escaped the back of your throat was barely audible, and it was something akin to someone being choked to death. You thought that that was what was actually happening, that it was for real this time. Everything was muffled, but you could make out a loud bang against the wall and a figure rushing to your side and shaking your body a little too violently for your liking in your half-conscious state. Warmer light bathed the room once the overhead light was turned on, and you heard what you could only recognize as the voices of people panicking and yelling at each other.

God granted you one last moment of clarity, in which you saw Ken’s face, stricken with horror, before you let yourself fall deeper into oblivion.

Ken Sato got benched for the first time.

Not only did the Giants lose their second match against the Swallows, Ken was also very nearly suspended for the bench-clearing brawl that he had supposedly started. In his first game against the Swallows, the umpire had intervened in the quarrel between Ken and the opposing catcher, and he managed to hit a home run that boosted the team’s morale. But then he just had to meet her during that stupid celebration; their encounter had left him distraught for literal fucking days. Before he knew it, the sun had already risen on his game day. He had to drink two cups of coffee just to kickstart his body into motion. While he could keep that goddamn catcher’s brickbats in the first match, Ken could barely keep himself together when the catcher provoked him in the second match—he tried, really, to hold the lingering effects of the few cans of beer he had the other night, to perform well despite his lack of sleep and barely healed shoulder, to empty his mind from the thoughts of her while he was on the field. He remembered slapping the catcher’s mask off his face and the impact of a clenched fist against his left cheekbone. Everything that happened afterward was a blur to him, other than the fact that Coach Shimura benched and reprimanded him and that he went past the speed limit when he rode his bike back home after the game. That night, the ice bath he had sunk himself into did little to calm his nerves.

The bruises on Ken’s face ceased to swell just two days before his next game. When he found that he could fit his helmet comfortably again without having to deal with how sore the left side of his face was, he cruised across the Rainbow Bridge and relished the rush he felt as he swerved past the traffic in Minato, the hum of his bike engine reverberating through his body. For a moment, the sight of the Tokyo Tower in the distance distracted him from his reality. He thought of Shibuya as the destination of his night ride, but then he recalled his encounter with her at that one nightclub and frustration bubbled up in his chest once again like heartburn. So he simply cruised through the streets of Roppongi, aimlessly taking turns until he arrived at an intersection and narrowly missed a car running a red light from his right.

“Hey–!”

“Ken, are you alright?”

The sound of metal clashing and glass shattering just a few feet ahead of him made Ken instinctively swerve away from the crash. He could barely register what was happening as he brought his bike to a stop near the sidewalk. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his heartbeat pulsed in his ears and pounded in his chest. With labored breaths and trembling hands, Ken took off his helmet and turned to look at the scene. His eyes widened in shock as he processed the sight of two cars crumpled against each other at the intersection, smoke billowing up from one of the cars’ hoods and the ring of their alarms echoing through the street.

A loud wail that shrilled through his ears pulled him out of his trance. If the scene hadn’t already distressed him, then the sight of a child that some of the pedestrians pulled out from the passenger seat of the impacted car was downright heartbreaking. She was no more than five years old, her pristine white dress stained with blood—Ken wasn’t sure if it was the child’s or someone else’s. He could only imagine what she had seen in the driver’s seat for her to keep trying to get back into the car and shrieking at the top of her lungs. But when they pulled out the driver from the car, he understood.

Ken felt as if his heart had been ripped out from his chest when he saw a face so familiar being laid down on the sidewalk across from him. He was sure he strained his vocal chords when he called out her name so loud it might have rivaled the child’s earsplitting cries.

He had seen this before. He had felt this before—sometime in college, at some godforsaken frat party that made him absolutely abhor parties. (Even if they were some of the only things that helped him cope with the loneliness he felt after she left.) He remembered seeing her lying on the bathroom floor, motionless; there were trails of white on her nostrils, drool and lipstick smudged on the corners of her mouth, blood trickling down from her forehead to the stained white linoleum. But now, instead of slowly kneeling beside her, he ran as fast as he could to the other side of the road and practically shoved away the people that were between him and her. There was no way she was dying right in front of him again. He refused to believe it, at least until he reached out to hold her and realized that she was as pale as she had been that night. His breath labored and his hands—no, his whole body trembled as he frantically glanced over at her closed eyes, the trickling crimson on her face, the slowly drying red on the white of her shirt. Time didn’t slow down this time; it felt as if everything in the world, his world, had completely stilled when he brushed her hair out of her face. Her. It was her. It was just like that night.

This was real. This wasn’t a fever dream.

This was fucking real.

Ken had met you again in the middle of freshman year in college. The two of you reconnected, albeit with a sense of detachment that often made his skin crawl. The jock he had seen you with was actually your boyfriend of a month—one you had supposedly dumped just two days after Ken had met you again. A few days after your breakup, Ken saw you hunched over on a bench in front of the convenience store near his dorm. Your face was hidden under the hood of your jacket while you ate cup noodles and drank a can of beer; he noticed how the bags under your eyes had become more prominent and how your lips were a little more chapped compared to when you were in high school. He bought a can of beer of his own before awkwardly sitting next to you, asking about your life, and you lit up a cigarette, apologizing for cutting him off after graduation. He didn’t know which he hated more: the fact that he could forgive you in the blink of an eye or how easy it was to fall back into the dynamic you used to have—playful banter, laughter that shook your bodies, and longing stares that neither of you spoke about. His heart fluttered when you held out your little finger, and he hooked it with his own.

“Friends forever, bro.”

You were glad you didn’t fall back into some of your old habits—the ones that involved either him under you or you under him. (He was your old habit.) You reconnected with his mother, too, but you never visited again, because you feared the comfort of his home would remind you too much of the past and how your home could never be as warm as his. For a while, it truly felt like you were just friends without all the skeletons in your closets. You would spend some of your weekday nights studying with Ken at the library before riding your bikes across town to that old diner you used to frequent with your mother before she stopped coming home early and he took her place. Other nights, you would roll up some joints with Harley in your dorm room while talking about whatever was on your mind; yet whenever she asked you about Ken, he almost always arrived in front of your door as if on cue, and you never got to tell her that you could never love anyone the way you loved him. (You had a feeling she knew.) The evenings you cherished the most, however, were the ones you spent hanging out at the park with the two of them, smoking pot while doing your assignments and watching the sunset together.

Freshman year ended with a core memory of you pushing Ken into the lake before he pulled you in with him. Harley laughed until she couldn’t breathe, one hand holding a half-smoked joint and the other recording the two of you with her phone.

Three months into sophomore year, your father came for a month-long visit as he usually did every year, and you didn’t return home on the weekends as you usually did whenever he came. When you were still in high school, you would have to either stay and listen to their screaming matches, both the hostile and obscene, or lie to your parents that you had some group work or extracurricular project so you could go to one of those awful house parties; fuck one of the guys you met at said party—that was, if Ken wasn’t there, because you would definitely pull him to the nearest empty room for a quickie if he was there; and sleep over at one of your friends’ houses, talking about anything and everything except you would stay quiet when they told stories of their fathers showing up at their rehearsals and their mothers baking homemade cakes for their birthdays. You never told anyone what was happening. Not even Ken, let alone his mother. You were just happy to be out of that house. Now that you were in college, your reasons were at least closer to the truth. Assignments. Group projects. Final exams. Student Council stuff. Preparations for career exhibitions and campus festivals. Debate practice for another state championship—you won three titles throughout college, yet your father would only acknowledge with an almost disinterested hum whenever you told him. (You didn’t play softball competitively anymore. Your parents made you drop the sport.)

You hated how you fell back into your old habits whenever your father visited—you hadn’t indulged in them last year since he didn’t visit, and you quietly thanked God because there was no way you were going to spend your most vulnerable moments with that insufferable jock. This time, though, you found yourself smoking at least a pack of cigarettes a day and looking for someone to kneel for.

Of course, you didn’t even let yourself think of pulling Ken down with you. As much as you would rather have him, you cared for him enough to not put him through what you had put him through in high school. But Ken knew you. Perhaps it was his fear of losing you again. Perhaps it was out of his own selfishness to keep you all to himself even if you weren’t his. He was the one who fell back into old habits for you. Whenever you called him to ask where he was on the weekends, he would drop whatever he was doing at that moment and come to you. Sometimes, the two of you would go on a night ride—on his bike because he didn’t trust you to drive, given your state of mind—and he would fuck you in the dark alleyway next to that old diner after eating two large burger meals together. At times like this, you didn’t even need to smoke or drink afterward because you would find yourself drunk merely from the pleasure and adrenaline rush. Other times, when his roommate got the hint and made himself scarce, Ken would take you on his bed, and you wouldn’t have any other choice but to be as quiet as possible. Then, even if you were the one who fell asleep in his room, he would always be the one leaving before you woke up in the morning, and you would never wait until he returned.

One day, while you were watching the sunset with Ken and your roommate, you received a call informing you that your parents had been in a car accident and were killed on impact. This wasn’t the first time you broke down. But it was the first time Ken had ever seen you collapse in on yourself like a planet turning into a black hole.

“They’ll be buried in Japan,” you uttered flatly. “I called my uncle. He said he will be picking them up next week, but he won’t be staying long.”

Ken frowned. “Are you going–”

“No.”

If you had to suffer, you wanted to suffer here, where all the worst memories of your family resided. (Even if it meant staining the happiest days of your life with him.) Japan was home to your childhood and the innocence you had lost a long time ago, and there was no way you would taint it with your deep, irremediable sorrow. You were never going back there. You were never going back home.

(Have you ever had one?)

Ken tried to be there when you mourned. But you had shut him and even Harley out after your uncle picked up your parents’ ashes. You spent three days glued to your bed, only getting up to eat something and brush your teeth when your roommate practically dragged you to. Ken would bring the food his mother made, even bringing her to the dorms at some point, but you would only eat five spoonfuls at most and leave the rest for your roommate. You couldn’t look his mother in the eye, even after she pulled you into her embrace, and you let her leave without so much as saying goodbye. The one time you broke down again, Harley called Ken for help because you told her you just couldn’t even will yourself to get up. When he saw you curled up on your unmade bed, reeking as if you hadn’t showered for more than a couple days, he thought that you were the only person that could break his heart in a million different ways. He remembered carrying you to his mother’s car and making you stay at his place until you feel better. He remembered slowly feeding you the gruel his mother made for you as you limply leaned against his side on his bed. He remembered washing you in the tub when his mother wasn’t home, scrubbing your back as your tears fell into the bathwater and your cries echoed in the bathroom.

His mother only reluctantly let you go back to your dorm a week later. By then, you already felt a little more like yourself, yet Ken still insisted on helping you. He would bring his mother’s food for you and walk you to your classes whenever he could, even if his classes were on the other side of the campus. He would buy some things you offhandedly said you needed to stock in your dorm and wait for you to finish showering, standing idly outside the communal showers area, no matter how much time you took. He would soothe you in ways he only knew how—with hushed praises, hands entangled with yours, kissing away the tears that fell either out of pleasure or grief—and left a glass of water, something to eat, and morning-after pills for when you woke up. To him, this was how he could love you without loving you. To you, this was a reminder that you would never be deserving of his warmth.

Two months passed. Everything seemed to return to normal—as normal as it could be, Ken thought, because there was something off about you after you spent your winter break in Japan. Upon your return, you started coming to those frat parties again, but you would come back more skittish each time. Perhaps you were just drinking, Harley said, but that was enough reason for Ken to start coming to the same parties you were invited to. He noticed how color had slowly faded from your cheeks as they hollowed bit by bit; how the dark circles around your eyes became more noticeable, even with all the makeup you wore; how you grew thinner every month, eating only once a day, becoming frail underneath your rapture. He should have known that the way you casually wiped off your nosebleed while smoking at the park was a dead giveaway; yet, somehow, realization only dawned on him when you rejected his warmth for the first time in the years that you had burned him in yours. Brokenhearted was an understatement. He lost you again—not to the bittersweetness of unspoken love, but to the malignity of worldly subservience.

One of his biggest, if not the biggest, regrets in life was not stopping you right then and there.

Summer break—everyone and their mothers held a party. Ken remembered that night awfully well that it became the stuff of his nightmares. He spent half the night looking for you; he didn’t even need to talk to you, he just needed to know you were there. Some of his friends noticed how distracted he was, and when they brought it up, he waved them off, saying he had just seen a familiar face before joining their conversation. He hoped they didn’t notice how bitter his laugh sounded when they teasingly asked if he was looking for you. Usually, it wouldn’t be this hard to find you. Whenever there was a party, you would be at the center of it. Your enthusiasm whenever you came to one of these frat parties contrasted with your more mellowed out self in those dimly lit house parties in high school. Yet, as the clock neared two in the morning and he still couldn’t find you, he reminded himself of how there had been something off about your high spirits.

“Ken?”

Upon hearing a familiar voice, Ken blinked rapidly and realized that he had been in a stupor. Instead of one of his friends, it was Harley who had called out his name, and he was surprised to see her there. He noticed that she hadn’t been coming to the same parties anymore and remembered you mentioning it was probably because she finally had a girlfriend. He brushed off the thought when he saw concern etched on her face, but before he could even open his mouth to ask, she beat him to it.

“Have you seen her?”

“No…?” Ken frowned. “No, why?”

Harley clicked her tongue. “I swear, she’s–” She took a sharp inhale of breath before continuing. “Can you help me find her?”

“Well, yeah, but–” Ken’s frown deepened when he took notice of how Harley kept looking around the room restlessly. “Is something going on with her?”

“Yes!” She snapped, and judging by the look on her face afterward, she probably didn’t mean to. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips before she continued. “Yes, and you gotta help me find her before she does anything stupid.”

“Okay, okay,” Ken said, raising both hands, gesturing to Harley to calm down. It did little to pacify her, as she continued to look around the room restlessly. He subconsciously followed gaze as he asked, “Where was she the last time you saw her?”

“She was right here, I swear–” Harley cut herself off when she recognized someone in the crowd before repeatedly tapping on their shoulder. “Hey, did you see a girl in a black dress here before?”

She uttered your name afterward, and the person’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh, her?” They turned slightly, extending a forefinger to point in a direction. “Yeah, I think I saw her going into the bathroom over there.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Ken was pretty sure he bolted toward the bathroom at record speed without so much as saying ‘thank you’ to the person who gave him and Harley the heads-up. They must have looked like madmen shoving people aside left and right, and had he not had a literal life-or-death situation at hand, he would have gotten himself into a fight with how hard he shoved some people and how indifferent he was in the face of their indignation. When they finally arrived in front of the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, and the sight of a pool of black on the floor made his breath hitch.

“Oh, no.”

He swung the door open so hard that it hit the wall with a loud bang, stunning the crowd near the bathroom. Harley immediately dropped onto her knees next to you with a loud thud. “Oh, no, no, no, no–hey, hey, wake up!”

Everything that happened afterward was a blur to him. Your roommate yelled and gestured wildly at Ken to turn on the lamp, which he did after barely registering her words. He froze when he saw you lying on the floor, motionless, pale as a ghost that he thought you might as well have turned into one. Time slowed down as more people flooded the scene, yelling and screaming at each other in panic, and everything was just too much. He tuned them out as he slowly kneeled and reached out to brush your hair out of your face, the blood from your forehead staining the tips of his fingers. His disbelief turned into a sickening realization that made the contents of his stomach rise up his throat. It was you. It was really you.

Ken couldn’t think straight as he lifted you in his arms and carried you out of the bathroom before Harley could even get another word in. How could he? The blood on his fingers felt warm, yet you were as cold as a fucking corpse. He could barely feel the rise and fall of your shoulders as you breathed. All of his rage and heartache, including the resentment he had for you, fueled him as he yelled at people to get the fuck out of the way! and carelessly shoved anyone who didn’t. When he finally got outside, he realized you didn’t even feel warm against the chill of the midnight wind. Fortunately, the ambulance arrived just as he was about to run and carry you to the nearest hospital himself. The paramedics tried to stop him from getting in the ambulance, only relenting when he almost punched one of them. He didn’t remember getting to the hospital or how he ended up spending the night at your bedside—just the overwhelming fear that he could have lost you for good.

That night, it was his first time smoking a cigarette out of his own will.

“You can’t keep doing this shit.”

“You don’t fucking get it.”

“I don’t need to fucking get it when I can see that you’re fucking up yourself!”

You couldn’t even reply to that.

“Did you even know how scared I was? How scared Ken was? God, I don’t care if you’re a total bitch, just don’t do this shit to yourself!”

“I had it under control–”

“Under control? You fucking overdosed. That’s not under control, that’s out of fucking control!”

This time, you snapped. “Well, yelling at me isn’t going to fucking fix anything!”

Ken stood outside your hospital room, leaning against the wall next to the door. He sighed as soon as the screaming match started. This wasn’t the first time you and Harley fought with raised voices and unrestrained spite since she found out about your addiction, straining both your throats and friendship after each fight. Still, neither of you had ever escalated things, so he simply listened from where he stood, a heavy weight resting on his chest as the two of you exchanged words he knew you would regret down the line. Her last words to you, however, would probably haunt you for the rest of your life.

“You know what? If you don’t want me to stop you from killing yourself, fine. Go kill yourself if you want.”

Even Ken staggered upon hearing the words that left her lips.

“Harley–!” He heard you call for your roommate, whose heels clicked on the floor and echoed closer to the door. As she opened the door, he heard you yell, “Fuck you!”

He gave a sideways glance toward Harley as she got out of the room. She visibly jumped when she noticed his presence but quickly composed herself and closed the door behind her. A deep, exasperated sigh left her lips as she hung her head. “Sorry.”

He waved off her apology in reassurance. “You okay?”

A shake of her head, then silence. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t awkward either—it was the first time he wordlessly understood Harley when she looked up at him tiredly because ‘Why won’t you let anyone help you?’ and he could only slacken his frown because ‘I want to know why, too.’ She glanced at the floor beneath her heels, pondering for a few moments before finally speaking her mind.

“Can you look after her?”

To that, he offered her a small, sad smile.

“Yeah, I will.”

That was the last time Ken—and you—ever saw Harley. She moved off-campus, blocked your number and all your social media accounts, and never even spared you so much as a glance whenever you passed by. You also didn’t bother to approach her, guilt gnawing at you like maggots eating rotten flesh. By the time you started your senior year, you never saw her on campus. Ken was the only witness to your absolution.

(You wondered if he was God himself, with how forgiving he was.)

Four months into junior year, you finally came back to your house. One of your aunts was kind enough to help organize your mother’s belongings after the funeral and pay for cleaning services throughout the year your house was empty. You found yourself standing in the middle of the living room, hollow. You hadn’t been here for a year. Everything stayed the same. Everything—except your mother’s heels were no longer displayed on the shoe rack in the foyer, her favorite episode of Love Island wasn’t playing on the widescreen TV you could see from upstairs, and her liquor cabinet was void of her favorite bottles of Pinot noir. Everything, except your mother’s nonchalant ‘Welcome back, how was school?’ didn’t greet you when you came in, her dulcet voice no longer spoke of your achievements as she introduced you to your new neighbors, and her drunken laughter wasn’t echoing in the living room as she offered another drink to yet another younger man whose face you didn’t bother to remember. Everything stayed the same. Everything except you.

You would have grabbed a kitchen knife and killed yourself if the doorbell hadn’t rung.

Disoriented from your own thoughts, you willed yourself to stagger toward the door and open it. Ken stood there, one hand running through his unruly hair and the other holding his helmet. His eyes softened as he studied your features, while you offered him a confused look.

“Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “So you won’t be alone.”

There must be some divine punishment for how you had molded him into this—a young man who only wanted the slightest bit of love you could give, but you never did. You wanted to reach out, feel his warmth in your arms, and say ‘Thank you for never leaving me alone.’ You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs and strain your throat and your neck muscles, either saying ‘I can do this myself’ or ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ You wanted to look him in the eye and say ‘I love you,’ with every word echoing throughout the world to let him know that he was your world. But you settled with an apprehensive stare that you didn’t know he could look through.

“I’m fine–”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a firmness you hadn’t expected. He saw how you were taken aback and let his jaw unclench, his gaze soften, his voice lower. “We promised, right?”

Then he held out his little finger and you were sixteen again, breaking each other’s hearts for the first time.

“Friends forever.”

Ken looked at you with your father’s long-lost fondness and your mother’s forgotten tenderness. You wanted to hook your little finger around his and offer him the slightest hint of a smile you could muster, so you did. You wanted to take a deep breath, press your head against his chest, and hear—feel—his heartbeat, so you did. He held you closer, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo in your hair, his free hand soothingly rubbing your back. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his torso as you pressed yourself closer to him, relishing in his warmth while burning him in yours once again.

(You didn’t tell him the way he said it sounded more like a proposal than a promise.)

“You don’t have to stay.” But I want you to.

He let out a contemplative hum that reverberated through both his body and yours. You found the slight vibration comforting.

“But I want to.” You don’t even have to ask me.

That day, you started packing up with his help. You showed him the albums of your childhood, told him the stories behind each photograph, and spoke fondly of your father for the first time in years. The next day, he checked and washed your bike and your mother’s car—which you sold later on in the afternoon, helped you pack all the medals and trophies you had won since middle school, and dragged you outside to mess around with the sprinkler system one last time. On the last day, he carried all the boxes and stacked them downstairs so the movers could easily move them, you cooked your mother’s mac and cheese recipe and he held you as you cried while eating, and the two of you took out your old star projector and turned it on in the living room, where both of you talked yourselves to sleep. Those three days were the first time in years that your touches didn’t lead to anything more.

You moved out to a studio apartment near downtown, sent the rest of your mother’s belongings back to her family in Japan, and rented a storage space for the things you couldn’t fit in your apartment. Ken would come over almost every day and sleep over every weekend, spending your shared free time playing video games, catch ball, or poker. (Strip poker, sometimes.) Two months later, he practically moved in, what with how many of his clothes were in your wardrobe and how his toothbrush was always next to yours in the bathroom. Six months later, the two of you practically became parents to a stray tabby cat named Mochi, whose favorite thing to do was to nap nearly all day and only seemed to stay awake when you and Ken decided to shove your tongues in each other’s mouths and your hands in each other’s pants.

A year later, you gave him your sobriety coin.

The harsh overhead fluorescent lights glared at him as he stared down the empty forms laid down on the reception desk in front of him. Instead of filling them out, his mind wandered to his bloodstained jacket, now sealed in a bag somewhere in the hospital. One of the nurses had said something about preventing contamination, but he could barely register her words with how the faint smell of iron still lingered in his nose even after he washed off the blood from his hands. His eyes then flickered to them; the red of your blood now replaced by the redness of his own skin after he had vigorously scrubbed it off, leaving small scratches on his palms. Then his mind wandered to you. You and the crimson painting your face. You and the white staining your nose. You, smiling whenever you saw his face in the crowd. You, laughing at every one of his stupid jokes. You, lying down on the bathroom floor with dazed eyes looking straight at him and an unspoken apology he could hear over the music before you passed out. You, lying down on the sidewalk with the same look in your eyes and a fear he couldn’t quite place before you went limp and closed your eyes as he tried to stop the blood flowing from your torso.

(His bike wobbled when he caught a glimpse of his bloodstained hands while speeding off to the hospital.)

A dull ache returned to his bruised cheekbone, pulling him out of his train of thought, and he hissed at the slight pricking he felt when he brought up his hand to touch it. The papers in front of him captured his attention once again. He forced his brain to work as he deciphered the rows of kanji written on them. It was easy, at first. Your name. Birthday. Blood type. Medical history. He thought it wasn’t his place to disclose your old habits. (Even if he was one of them.) But then he realized he didn’t even know how to properly spell your smoking and addiction history in Japanese, and his frown deepened when he read the address, emergency contact, and insurance details columns.

“Wait, uh,” he said, flipping through the papers, his eyes darting between the columns before he handed one of the forms to the nurse behind the desk. “I don’t know if I could fill some of these.”

“Oh,” the nurse exclaimed softly, glancing over the paper in her hand. “Do you know anyone we could contact on her behalf? Her relatives, perhaps?”

Ken couldn’t come up with an answer. Your parents and his mother had already passed. He knew nothing about your extended family, and from the way you spoke or avoided speaking about them, he figured that you wouldn’t want him to call them even if you were on your deathbed. He did think of his father and the possibility that you had met him after you came to Japan, but the resentment that simmered in his chest made him tighten his grip around the pen in his hand as he shook off the thought. He wasn’t going to call his father. He would never.

“Uh, no,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re not on good terms,” he continued. “I don’t have their contacts, and I don’t know if they’d even come if you called.”

“I see,” the nurse said, nodding as she handed back the paper in her hand to him. “Then please just fill out these forms as best as you can, sir. If you need any help, please let me know.”

He nodded and muttered a ‘thank you’ before making quick work of filling out the forms, writing down what he knew about you. On the other hand, he left your daughter’s forms mostly, if not completely, empty. Your daughter. A flash of indignation burned for a moment in his chest before disappearing just as quickly as it came. No older than five years old, he recalled. He wondered if you had her after you left Los Angeles. He wondered if you had called him to meet at that old diner to tell him. He wondered if, had he not been drunk and you actually told him, there would at least be a reason for him to be a part of your world—your daughter. His daughter. Ken swore his heart tightened, threatening to shrivel, at the thought of you raising a child alone in a country where you didn’t have anyone else.

(What if you were alone all this time?)

“Would you like to see your daughter? She’s asleep right now, but she should be waking up anytime soon.”

Ken barely registered the nurse’s words, but when he did, they almost gave him whiplash as he snapped his head to look at her. “Huh?”

The nurse herself seemed to have asked him the question without properly looking at him, thus not seeing the bewildered look on his face, preoccupied with whatever was on her desk. “Would you like to see–” She cut herself off when she finally looked up at him, her own expression slowly turning into one of mortification. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I assumed–”

His hand waved off her rushed apology, reassuring her that he didn’t take offense to the question. “Yeah, yeah, no, i-it’s alright,” he stuttered. “She’s–she’s not my daughter, but…” His words trailed off to give way to a momentary silence before he asked, “Can I see her?”

With an understanding nod and another apology, the nurse led Ken to the pediatric ward and into one of the rooms. An older nurse was already there, sitting by the bedside with a clipboard in her hands. She gave him a small smile as she got up from her seat to move to the corner of the room, muttering a ‘Please don’t mind me’ as she sat down. Perhaps she was just taking precautions, considering that he wasn’t listed as an immediate family member. He thanked her, turning his attention to the child sleeping on the bed, breath hitching when he realized something.

She looked so much like you. A carbon copy of you—the you he had seen in a photograph your father took on your fourth birthday, dressed in a pretty pink dress and a blue paper hat as you posed with the candled cake, a Duchenne smile on your face. (You said it was the happiest day of your life because it was the only time you remembered your father’s warmth.) The you he had seen in another picture in your childhood album, where you sat on your mother’s lap, laughing and playing the piano together. (You told him your mother stopped playing when you got into high school.) The you he had seen in a Polaroid shot your mother took when you were fifteen, a rare moment amidst your spiraling home life, where you were curled up on the couch, fast asleep in your party outfit with your old teddy bear in your arms. (You gave him that photograph; he kept it in his wallet to this day.)

Ken’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter in his seat when her eyes slowly opened, revealing a pair of gray orbs strikingly similar to his own. Fear and confusion were etched on her face, but they melted away when her eyes gleamed with recognition upon seeing him—and all he saw was the 6-year-old boy who had just moved to Los Angeles and didn’t speak a word of English.

“Mr. Nana?”

“Huh?”

Her weak, slightly hoarse voice must have alerted the nurse in the corner of the room, because she was right by their side within seconds. The nurse asked her how she was feeling and checked her vitals, her own voice low and gentle so as to not scare her patient. Both the nurse and your daughter kept glancing at him every now and then, and after she fully regained consciousness, her eyes never left Ken’s.

“She keeps calling you ‘Mr. Nana,’” the nurse chuckled softly. “I think she’s referring to your jersey number, Mr. Sato.”

A small smile made its way onto Ken’s face. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Would you like to talk to him, sweetheart?”

Your daughter nodded bashfully, and the nurse helped her sit on the bed. He took it as a cue to move closer, gently dragging his chair to avoid the shrill sound of its metal legs against the floor. He let his shoulder slump a little so he could look at her at her eye level, though her gaze nervously flickered between him and the nurse standing by the other side of the bed.

“Hi,” Ken asked softly and awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

She blinked at him a couple times. “Emi.”

Emi. Emiko. His mother’s name.

“Emi?” He croaked out, and she nodded. A moment of silence passed between them before he took a deep breath and let his smile return to his face. “That’s a pretty name.”

“...Thank you,” Emi said shyly, glancing up at him before looking back at her fidgeting thumbs. “Mama said I’m named after someone pretty.”

(You really were the only person who could break his heart in a million different ways.)

He let out an amused snort. “Is that so?”

She nodded again; the next time she opened her mouth to speak, her surfacing excitement reminded him of whenever you talked about the topics you learned at debate practice or the things you just couldn’t discuss with anyone else but him.

“Mama also said that you’re the best baseball player in the world. Is that true?”

The greatest living player, you once said. “Yeah,” he chuckled softly. “Yeah, that’s right.”

If he hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have thought that Emi had just been in a car crash a few hours ago. The little girl nearly bounced with how giddy she was, eyes widening and lips parting in wonder. His own smile widened at the sight and when he asked, “Do you like baseball too?”

“Yes!” Emi answered enthusiastically. “Mama showed me that- that when you play, you can hit the ball reeeally far!”

Ken let out a chuckle, warmth spreading in his chest when the thought of you singing his praises crossed his mind. “I can show you how to hit the ball really far too,” he said, trailing off to ponder on something before continuing. “When you get better, I’ll show you. How’s that sound?”

The proposition made Emi turn to look at the older nurse, seemingly for reassurance, and she simply nodded in Ken’s direction in response. Emi’s eyes gleamed in delight, a small smile on her face, and he couldn’t help but notice just how much she resembled you when she nodded bashfully.

(Maybe, just maybe, you’re finally home.)

taglist: @mochminnie

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fitgirlfemdom · 3 months

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Small dick anon here. When I was 185lbs it measured 5 inches, but by the time I was 270 pounds it was only 4 inches with all the fat around it. I never used to have any complaints about my size but once I got bigger it changed. I would only occasionally slip out of someone before and was able to get a good amount of motion. By my biggest weight I had two sexual experiences. The first was with a longtime fwb who loved my dick I was around 260 and my partner likewise. With the extra weight it never stayed hard for as long, and I realized unless I was like totally hard I couldnt stay inside them at all. Theyd guide me in, I’d thrust my heavy overly sweaty body forward and when id motion back it would fall out. I ended up feeling so embarrassed after a few minutes of this that I took my half hard dick and just rubbed it against their clit using my hand and eventually I thrusting my shaft against them. In the end they came a couple times.

The next time I had sex I was even more out of shape at 273 and it was with a girl who was at least 270 herself. I tried fucking them missionary the same as the fwb but our stomachs were both so big. The same thing happened as before but I got hard enough to stay in. I literally couldnt actually thrust it forward it basically was just weight shifting without any friction. This only lasted a minute before she asked me to fuck her from behind. Her ass was huge and I barely got any friction, also had to rest my stomach on her ass to even get inside a little. She put her hands on the wall and rode my dick and that was the only way anything happened. Id never had it happen before but after about a minute i told her I was going to cum. I meant this to mean “slow down” but she started saying “cum for me baby” and pushed her ass into me harder. I came less than 10 seconds later drenched in sweat and completely out of breath. Id barely done anything. I felt so embarrassed I didnt even try fucking her again. She definitely didnt cum and she barely felt it at all.

I also had an online relationship where I showed her my dick and asked if she thought id be big enough to fuck her from behind or if id need a strap and she said “definitely a strap.” Apparently the first time i sent her a video of me touching myself it started with me being flaccid and between how fat my fupa was, you could only see the head and she thought i had a clit until i got harder. I’m 240 now so its still a small dick but i remember at my highest weight when i was flaccid even peeing had to be done sitting down because i didnt have enough length to aim and id have lean over to get the job done and then wipe up after like a girl. I wish I could have stayed that weight for longer, I really wanted to find a thin girl for the first time in my life just so I could see how disappointing I would be. Ive trained myself to cum in under a couple minutes and someday i hope I can get to be over 300 pounds so I can truly be pathetic. I was so close to buried penis syndrome I know with the right guidance and support I could get myself there and be a bit pathetic neutered fuck toy for someone to abuse and humiliate lol

AGHHHHH i've got a lot to say about this.

this reads like a fantasy scenario i'd post on here. the slow degradation of your sexual nature from average dude to sexual degenerate gets me going.

i've also heard from multiple pigs in my DMs that sex gets very difficult at the 270+ size, with cowgirl being the only suitable position. i can only imagine how difficult that would be if your female partner was also fat. honestly i'm having trouble understand how that would even work, but i digress. the girl's ass being so fat you couldn't even penetrate? honestly i feel bad for everyone in this situation. her riding you and making you cum in thirty seconds surprised me, as if i was in that situation, there's no way i'm letting a pig cum that quickly. omg i would've rode your face for an hour til you calmed your horny ass down

the last paragraph GOT ME. having such a small, covered dick that girls think you have a vulva is crazy. as a thin woman, i've never seen a dick that small in real life. i think the smallest dick of one of my partners was 4 inches, and it was so unsatisfying i swore off sex for the past year 😭 i can only imagine going out with a loser, giving him a chance, and getting home to seeing a one-inch nub between his legs. would you be able to penetrate anything with that? you'd probably have to just get oral for the rest of your life. i wonder how crazy it would feel to have a way smaller surface area, but the same amount of nerves, as an average sized cock. do you think you'd be sensitive? do you think you'd be able to have a vibrator on your little cockhead for more than a few minutes without shooting ropes? do you think if a pretty girl just sucked on your little cock for a few moments, you'd start moaning like a pathetic gooner? you'd want so bad to just fuck her like you used to be able to, but your dick just isn't good enough. you'll probably just end up humping her ass with your gut on her back while you cum down her thighs.

so helpless at sex that you'd just be reduced to sitting under your girl's desk, eating out her cunt while you jerk off your little nub between your fingers. eventually, you might get quite good at it. she might never even let you fuck her again, binding you up in a custom chastity cage because it's not like you can use it anyway.

aghhh thank you for this message small dick anon. i wish more of my inbox messages were like this

#humiliation kink #g00ner #small dick humiliation #small dick loser #feeding kink #male feedism #feedee encouragement #feedee piggy #feederist #feedee feeder #huc0w #feedee girl #ffa #male feedee #small dick beta #domme mommy #femdxm

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no-nameno-face · 1 year

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Better Than a Six (AUDIO ONLY)

Ellie Williams x Dina Weed Scene

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. sub!dina, dom!ellie, (but also kinda switch energy tbh), lotsss of moaning and heavy breathing, implied sex, sweet, playful, teasing

Author's Notes: ahhhhhhhh... heres my first attempt at the weed scene from tlou2 <3 i might try again, thinking about making a pt.2 with dina "pleasuring" ellie too... cause i get maddd switch vibes from them. like ellie thinks shes a top, but dina can take over for sureeee... I chose to leave this audio a bit up to the imagination, not as description heavy but more ?intimate?... more ?ambiance? (idk how to describe it lol). It feels more canon to the actual scene that way in my opinion. i also think everyone has their own interpretation of how this scene played out so i wanted your mind to have some room to fill in the gaps. hope you guys enjoy!!

(i tried a few new things with the audio and i want some (gentle) feedback plsss... first, a transition using the song from the actual scene into a different one that fit the scene better. there definitely was an attempt made lmfao... second, i split the vocals from the instrumental so i could have the music louder but the singing quieter so it didnt take away from the voice clips. what do we think? i wont be able to do this for all my audios cause it cost money and ya bitch is broke... so only on special occasions like this one... also if you read this far youre the realest and i love you <3)

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strwberri-milk · 1 year

Note

Hallos!

Would you please write Diluc or Kaeya. They see their lover dance in the rain, and their lover finally sees them. Their lover offers them to dance with them if they'd like.

TYSM. Btw your writing is so smooth, the words just seem to flow.

thank you!! the writing flows probablyl bc i black out when i write LMAO jkjk but i do try to enter a flow state to just get everything out which is why. i have weird errors i never catch lol also where i work i gotta go outside a lot and the other day there was a massive storm and me and my friend decided to just go fuck it and walked back in the storm bc here there's no guaruntee the rain will lighten up and we didnt wanna get trapped on the island where we were at the time and came back up to the main store just. soaked. it was awful i couldnt even wear my shirt anymore

Diluc, as per usual was caught up inside with some work. With the heavy rain he knew his work as the Darknight Hero would be severely impeded so he wasn't planning on going for a patrol this evening, leaving him more time to spend with you. He was just trying to finish his paperwork at this point for the day so he could spend the rest of the evening with you without worrying about anything else.

You had found a way to entertain yourself without Diluc, hearing the slight roll of thunder in the distance and preoccupying yourself with a small impromptu picnic on the steps to the manor while you waited for the rain to come down.

In about an hour Diluc heard the sound of raindrops hitting against the ground. The rain was slight and barely coming in so he decided to keep his window open for the fresh air to come through, almost missing the sound of your laughter on the ground.

He stuck his head out, trying to look for you when he saw you just happily dancing around in the rain. You were singing to a song in your head, swaying to the beat you imagined as the rain comes down. It didn't drown you out with how soft it was coming down, but he was getting worried that you'd get cold from being outside and wet.

Diluc was about to call out to you when you looked up and met his eyes with a huge smile. He couldn't tell you no now with how happy you looked. Instead, he comes down and opens the door, watching from the doorway as you skip around.

He should have expected you to march right up to him, pulling him under the rain and making his already unruly locks even worse. He sees the curling up as you pull him around to the number you've made up, sighing good-naturedly before pulling you into his arms.

You're a little surprised until you feel the heat of his body get a little warmer, the slight glow of his vision telling you that he was using it to keep you warm. His arms wrap around your waist, making you slow down to the rhythm of a smooth waltz and keeping you there, nice and cozy. Now, the two of you can dance as much as you want to without Diluc having to worry about you freezing.

Kaeya was inside trying to make some dinner. You were supposed to be running some errands for him when he discovered some of the ingredients he wanted to use were missing. Thankfully they weren't anything too major but he was hoping that he could have them in a timely manner to ensure everything tasted as perfect as he wanted it to.

He didn't expect to hear the door open for just a split second, groceries getting plopped onto the ground before you run out of the house again. He goes to investigate what you're trying to do, seeing you laying in the grass for a bit as the rain just starts to come down.

Curiously, he continues to watch what you'll do as the rain comes down harder, cringing a little as he realises it's taking you a while to get up. Hopefully, you don't track too much mud into the house later, but if this is how you want to have fun he's not going to stop you.

When the rain starts to pour a little you finally get up, practically frolicking around the yard as he recognises you dancing around. He smiles to himself, still watching from the safety of the inside of the house as he hears the sound of your muffled laughter.

it takes you a while but you finally notice that he's just been watching you for the last little bit. When he doesn't make a move to come outside with you you pout a little, gesturing for him to open the door. When he finally does, you continue to motion for him to come outside, Kaeya doing so a little hesitantly. He just doesn't like the feeling of wet clothes if he can help it, at least able to slip on some waterproof boots.

You try to get him to dance with you, taking his hands in yours as he follows your slightly erratic movements. He's just trying not to accidentally use his vision, thinking that accidentally giving you hypothermia would not be fun in the least.

After his initial reservations are assuaged, he pulls the most romantic moves. He kisses you softly in the rain, twirling you around before pushing your body into a deep bend. You swear if he weren't there to catch you you'd just fall onto the ground.

His strong hold keeps your body afloat as the two of you dance, Kaeya whispering the sweetest things he can muster as you keep each other warm in the chill of the rain.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 2 years

Note

Hey! I really love your writings!

Can I request a Wednesday X reader where r has telepathy powers and Wednesday develops feeling for r and r reads her mind and asks her "do u wanna tell me something" butttt heres a little plot twist that Wednesday doesn't know what powers r has and weems didnt disclose it too.

U can make it angst or fluff or anything lol would love to read this idea.

A/N: feel like this is ass but I tried my best 😅😭

Your POV

Your head began to pound as the onslaught of voices filled your head. You desperately rubbed your temples hoping to ease some of the tension.

The amount of thoughts flooding your mind always a nuisance but even more so when you'd hear just how vapid and shallow most of them were.

Most of the guys just thinking about getting into the girls pants and most of the girls either caring far too much about looks or popularity. There were some minds you did take comfort in.

Eugene, for example, was currently worrying over hive 309. He feared that he'd miss the right moment to harvest their honey. He was also worried that he was showing too much favoritism and making the other hives jealous.

There was Enid, who while sometimes ditzy still held a great amount of optimism and purity that you couldn't quite find in anyone else.

Which was the complete opposite of her roommate, one Miss Wednesday Addams. You remembered the first time the goth had set foot here in Nevermore. Much like everyone else you were enamored by her looks, fearful of her history and excited at the thought of her bringing a change to your school. She was very much in a class of her own. Her thoughts were very much dark but you couldn't deny the truth they held. You admired her outlook on life, her intelligence and her whit, her thoughts almost always mirrored her words. Not quite an open book but not someone who wears a mask.

Said girl sat next to you, voice low as she whispered to you. "I have more clues towards our investigation."

The feeling of her lips grazing your ear sending a chill down your spine. You nodded quietly, eyes shifting towards Xavier's as his thoughts began to shift from admiration to jealousy. It was no secret he harbored feelings for Wednesday even the girl herself knew of them but she wasn't focused on relationships, she was focused on saving the school from a monster.

Perhaps she chose you because you didn't dismiss her when she'd said she had seen Rowan mauled by a monster. Or because you never seemed to push her past her own comfort zone. You had pledged your allegiance to her one night in the woods. She had saved you from dying so you felt you owed her. She had patched up some small wounds and even taught you some self defense.

"I refuse to have an incompetent partner."

She, as well as most of the school knew nothing of your powers and the fact that she saw you as an asset without it made you feel...special. She trusted you as her partner and you would

do anything to keep it that way. You were both currently in the coroners office looking for more evidence as you caught Wednesday staring at you.

"Is something wrong?" The goth blinked once before turning back to the task at hand. Your eyebrow furrowed as you focused on the girls mind.

....you're being ridiculous.

You shook your head before getting the body prepped, your eyes catching something the police failed to report.

"Wednesday look he's missing his left foot." The shorter girl stepped closer her shoulder brushing you as she did so. Her eyebrows raising slightly as Thing began tapping, catching both of your attention.

Wednesday shoved you on a gurney before climbing on top of you Thing closing you both in as he clambered his way into an empty skeleton.

The smaller girl pressed to you in the tight space made you nervous, your breathing growing heavy as you heard voices from the outside. She looked to you making a show to breathe quietly through her nose. You tried to do the same but your chest was heaving, "relax" she mouthed. You nodded trying to listen, her thoughts were imitating her words but the sudden addition of more people coming into the room increased your panic.Wednesday gritted her teeth before pulling you closer her dark eyes boring into yours.

You felt your breathing grow calmer the longer you stared. You tried to focus on the details of her face as her eyes never left yours.

She has freckles and long eyelashes.

Your eyes flicked down to her lips before they go back to her eyes. You leaned a bit closer making her eyes widen but she remained still.

A knock echoing through the crawl space as Thing opened the door indicating the three of you should leave while still undetected.

You both remained quiet as you went back to the school and to your dorms. A quick goodnight falling from your lips as you couldn't meet the smaller girls eyes.

For a few days following, Wednesday had avoided you, not like the plague as she'd probably enjoyed it but more so like rainbows or puppies.

You were currently eating in the library alone as you sensed a dark presence enter. You tried to slide further down your seat to seem smaller as you'd noticed the raven looking for something in particular.

I wonder if Y/N- Enough.

You watched her seethe and grit her teeth as she continued to scan the isles.

You need to get yourself in order. You don't need y/n they're just a distraction.

She'd repeat the mantra before she'd be distracted by something that would make her think of you. You found yourself pushing yourself away from her mind and running to your dorm.

Thing had tapped Wednesdays shoulder pointing in your direction. He had signed something that made the girl glare at him.

"I do not like Y/n." She spoke through gritted teeth. "And I don't need help."

The appendage fell back exasperated as Wednesday tried to keep herself focused. Once your face popped back into her mind she'd grow frustrated.

A sharp realization hitting her like a bolt of lightning.

The goth threw down her book and stormed her way to your dorm.

A thud had interrupted what you were doing hands shaking as you'd realize Wednesday Addams had stormed into your room.

"What are you?" The harsh tone and fury clear in the ravens eyes as you stared back confused.

"I never asked your power, yet somehow you always conveniently know when I require your assistance," she began as you felt yourself grow more nervous. "You always know when I need a tool, book, or item without my asking and-"

For some godforsaken reason you fester my thoughts.

"You seem to know how others are feeling without-" your hand shot out a single black dahlia. Wednesday felt herself stop short as she stared.

"Your favorite." You spoke softly as you stood up moving closer to her. "Wednesday I -"

You had to pause and clear your throat as you were unable to decipher the emotions swirling in her black irises.

"I like you. A lot. Your extremely intelligent, and while some may see it as arrogance I admire your confidence and bravery. You don't treat me as an outsider and make me feel important."

You took a deep breath as the girl still had yet to move, her thoughts around you for once completely silent.

"I catch myself thinking about you all the time and when you're not around it feels wrong. I know you're not big on romance but I-"

The smaller girl cut you off hand lifting as she placed a palm on your cheek. You felt your shoulders sag in relief that she didn't slap you.

"Emotions are for the weak but if I were to pick a spouse you wouldn't be the worst choice."

You felt a grin make its way to your face as her thumb began stroking your skin. You gulped as it hit you.

"Uh Wednesday I-" The shorter girl looked at you, the usual cold glare a soft gaze as she waited to hear what you had to say.

"I have telepathy." Her hand dropped from your face as her eyes widened.

For the first time in her life Wednesdays cheeks grew warm and her usual pale complexion had a tint of pink to it.

Shit.

Taglist: @alexkolax

#wednesday #wednsday addams #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader

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rzyraffek · 1 year

Note

OH OH REQUEST IDEA....TAKING SLASHERS HOME TO MEET YOUR PARENTS BECAUSE THATS LIKW SUPER SMART

Billy Micheal and Jason are the only ones i care about but you can add whoever

Omg hi!! Thanks for request!

They/them, sfw and request open

Slashers meeting s/o perents

Billy Lenz

Why would you do that

No fr why would anyone think this was good idea

Guy cant say a sentence without swear words or weird sex jokes😭

But fr billy will be so nervous!! Lil baby doesn't know how to behave!

S/o has to give him tutorial how to act like normal human and not 3rats in trench coat

Perents will be... alarmed to say the least... like really?? You could pick anyone but you picked oversized goblin?? Wow s/o

If s/o has younger siblings, he will bite them btw

Usually perents want to have grandchildren but oh god oh no not with this guy please s/o think about it!!

Billy vibes tbh he likes s/o perents they goofy. He also ate raw pasta. All of it

He told s/o dad that he wants lego for chrismas btw

Micheal Myers

How much you drank to think thats a good idea

Soo you telling me you bf is a serial killer?

At least he won't say anything rude, and s/o perents are too intimidated to say something rude about him🥰peace

Micheal just stares really, hes harmless for now

Yes s/o mom will call them to make sure that they aren't kidnaped and this all stuff is acually consensual

Live laugh love dont get stabbed by Michael

Yall can't even eat a dinner together 😔my guy looks like npc. Like yall just sit nicley and my homie just🧍 he doesn't even eat he just looks at yall, he totally judges their outfits

Hide your pets away he might eat them. You have pet hamster? What hamster?

Jason Voorhees

Omg homeboy is stressed! What if they don't like him:((

At first their perents were intimidated by him, but s/o's mom and him got along very fast! They are baking cookies together! Also if s/o has smol siblings or animals o my god he is bff with them instantly

Their mom and him acually got along faster than s/o with jason when they met first time!

Helps with carring heavy stuff... you bought new fridge? Call up son-in-law jason to help out (s/o mom has him named like that in contacts in phone)

Perents kinda wonder where he lives, when s/o told them that he has vintage cottage in Forest they started to think that hes rich or something

S/o perents already hope that yall get married

Asa emory

My dude bought suit for that appointment

He promised not to talk about skinning people while yall are eating dinner. He is so dreamy

Got along very well with s/o's dad, they are talking about fishing or something idk what dads are into lol

Almost fell asleep when their mom was talking

I WANTED TO WRITE " when their mom was talking about that she wants grandchildren" BUT ITS SOUNDS WAY FUNNIER THAT WAY

He was scared to eat dinner, it looked.... suspicious... he never trusted cheesy lasagna

Anyways Asa and their dad are besties now, they will go fishing next week

He cried in car after meeting "S/O IM NEVER GOING THERE AGAIN IT WAS SCARY IF I HEAR YOUR MOM SAY ANYRGING ABOUT GRANDCHILDREN AGAIN IM GOING TO DOX HER SO HARD SHE WONT EVEN HAVE OPPORTUNITY TO SEE THEM"

I didnt write any headcanons for few weeks i hope it was good or at least readable

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #jason vorhees headcanon #jason vorhees imagine #jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader #micheal myers x you #micheal myers headcanons #micheal myers x reader #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa x reader #the collector x reader #the collector #micheal myers

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cherubiyeon · 1 year

Note

on my knees begging for a male reader (or gender neutral if thats more comfy) x minji or wonyoung where he's just so obsessed with her and is constantly pining or showering her in gifts and flowers

here, there and everywhere | ive jang wonyoung x gender neutral reader

just you, being the most absolutely smitten dork for your girlfriend.

✩ warnings. non-idol!au, university!au, established relationship, very dialogue heavy lol, reader sucks in budgeting fr do not try to be like them, mention of food like once ?

✩ word count. ~3k words

✩ playing. here, there and everywhere [the beatles]

☆ notes. hi anon! i didnt really like this fic ong this sucked but i chose wonyoung bc i havent wrote a fic for her for awhile :P anyways hope u like this!!

"y/n? y/n? earth to y/n?"

wonyoung's voice cut through the haze of y/n's thoughts, jolting them back to reality. they blinked a few times, their gaze refocusing as they met wonyoung's amused eyes. the campus cafe buzzed around them, students chatting, forks clinking against plates, and the aroma of brewed coffee filling the air.

"oh, sorry," y/n stammered, feeling a flush rise to their cheeks. "i guess i zoned out for a moment."

wonyoung grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "you're always getting lost in your thoughts, aren't you?"

y/n nodded, offering a sheepish smile. "guilty as charged. you have that effect on me, you know?"

wonyoung's laughter was like music, filling the air around them. "well, i'm flattered," she said, her smile turning into a warm, genuine one. "so, what were you thinking about?"

with a soft chuckle, y/n leaned in slightly, their tone conspiratorial. "alright, alright. i was pondering the mysteries of the universe. you know, the usual."

wonyoung's laughter tinkled through the air again, and y/n found themselves mesmerized by the genuine warmth in her expression. "well, as long as you're not plotting world domination in there," she teased.

"world domination is so last century," y/n quipped, finally fully engaged in the conversation. "i'm thinking more along the lines of solving the eternal debate: cats or dogs?"

wonyoung's laughter died down, and she regarded y/n with a soft smile. "you're something else, you know that?"

as they continued bantering, y/n's heart raced. it was still hard to believe they were actually dating someone like wonyoung. the laughter, the teasing—it all felt so surreal.

just as y/n was about to take another bite of their sandwich, they suddenly remembered the hidden treasure in their bag. their eyes widened, and they glanced at wonyoung with an almost comical mix of excitement and apprehension.

"wonyoung," y/n began, their voice a tad nervous, "i... i have something for you."

wonyoung's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "oh? what's the occasion?"

wonyoung's eyes widened with surprise as she accepted the gift. "y/n, what's this?"

y/n's cheeks turned a shade of pink that rivaled a sunset. "i... i wanted to get you something special." they cleared their throat, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. "i may have, um, spent this month's allowance on it."

wonyoung carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing an exquisite piece of jewelry, something that would catch anyone's eye. she gasped softly, her fingers tracing the intricate design. "y/n, this is... this is stunning."

y/n grinned, their heart doing somersaults. "i'm glad you like it."

wonyoung's gaze shifted between y/n and the box, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "well, aren't you full of surprises today?"

y/n's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. "i just... i saw this and thought of you. i know it's a bit extravagant, but i really wanted to get it for you."

wonyoung's laughter tinkled like wind chimes. reaching across the table, she brushed her fingers against y/n's hand, her eyes twinkling with affection. "... i must admit, spending a month's worth of allowance on a gift isn't exactly the wisest financial move, but i truly appreciate this."

y/n couldn't resist the gleam in wonyoung's eyes. with a mischievous grin, they leaned in closer, their voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "you know, wonyoung, they say that people who receive extravagant gifts are obligated to give the giver a kiss."

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "is that so? and who are these 'they' you speak of?"

y/n shrugged, their smile growing wider. "oh, you know, the wise sages of campus lore. they're quite adamant about it."

wonyoung chuckled softly, her gaze locked onto y/n's. "well, who am i to go against the wisdom of campus lore?" as she spoke, she carefully placed the necklace back in its box, sliding it away slightly.

y/n's cheeks were tinted with a rosy hue as they looked away, and wonyoung wore a smile that could outshine the sun. "well," wonyoung said, her voice a playful purr, "i suppose it's only fair that i follow tradition."

before y/n could react, wonyoung's lips pressed against theirs in a gentle, sweet kiss. it was as if time stood still, the world around them fading into a distant background as they savored the moment.

when they finally broke apart, y/n was left breathless and dizzy, their heart pounding in their chest. "wow," was all they managed to say, their voice a soft whisper.

wonyoung giggled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "you're such a dork, y/n."

y/n grinned unabashedly. "well, yeah. but hey, who can resist when they're in the presence of someone as amazing as you?"

wonyoung rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "you really know how to lay on the charm, don't you?"

y/n leaned back in their chair, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "well, i believe it's my duty to keep the amazing people around me entertained."

wonyoung chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "you certainly have a unique way of doing that."

"oh, you haven't seen the half of it," y/n replied with a grin, their fingers drumming playfully on the table. "i've been practicing my pickup lines, you know."

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh really? do share."

y/n feigned a thoughtful expression, rubbing their chin dramatically. "hmm, let's see... are you a campfire? because you're hot and i want s'more."

wonyoung burst into laughter, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "that's... something, alright." she leaned back slightly, still chuckling.

"i have plenty more where that came from," y/n teased, their smile growing wider. "but i'll save them for special occasions."

wonyoung shook her head with an affectionate smile, her laughter fading into a delighted grin. "you say the worst pickup lines, ever."

y/n's expression turned softer, their eyes locking onto wonyoung's. "only because you bring out the best—or worst—in me."

wonyoung's smile was warm, her gaze locked onto y/n's. "well, your worst lines are still pretty endearing." she leaned in a little closer.

y/n leaned in as well, a playful glint in their eyes. "oh, just wait until you hear my best ones." their lips curled into a mischievous smile.

wonyoung's laughter blended seamlessly with the café's ambiance, and she shook her head in mock disbelief. "i can't believe i'm dating someone who actually uses pickup lines."

y/n's tone turned mock-innocent. "what can i say? i'm just a person of many talents."

wonyoung's eyes twinkled mischievously. "and do these talents include making me smile?"

y/n nodded dramatically, their hand resting over their heart. "absolutely. making you smile is my top priority, followed closely by making terrible puns."

wonyoung's laughter filled the air, a delightful melody that never failed to make y/n's heart skip a beat. she leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "well, you've certainly succeeded in making me smile today."

y/n couldn't help but grin, their gaze locked onto wonyoung's. "that's all i ever want to do."

as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence, y/n noticed wonyoung eyeing the unwrapped necklace on the table. with a gentle smile, y/n picked it up and held it out to her. "would you like to try it on?"

wonyoung's eyes widened with surprise, her fingers hovering over the exquisite piece of jewelry. "you're really okay with me trying it on?"

y/n nodded, their voice soft. "of course, it's meant for you, after all."

wonyoung carefully took the necklace, her fingers tracing the delicate chain and the shimmering pendant. she turned her attention back to y/n, her expression a mix of gratitude and wonder. "i can't believe you spent a month's worth of allowance on this, y/n."

y/n reached out, their fingers brushing against wonyoung's cheek. "you're worth every penny, wonyoung. that necklace is too small compared to how much you mean to me."

wonyoung's eyes glistened with emotion, and she leaned in to press a soft kiss to y/n's lips. it was a sweet, tender kiss that spoke volumes, a silent affirmation of their love.

when they finally pulled away, y/n whispered, "i'd spend a lifetime's worth of allowance just to see you smile."

wonyoung's smile was radiant, her fingers gently threading through y/n's hair. "so cheesy of you, y/n."

with the necklace draped around her neck, wonyoung looked even more stunning, if that was even possible. she leaned in to whisper in y/n's ear, "you know, i think you've officially spoiled me."

y/n's heart swelled at wonyoung's words, their fingers gently brushing against wonyoung's cheek. "and you've spoiled me too, in the best possible way."

as they gazed into each other's eyes, the air around them seemed to crackle with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. y/n's heart raced, and they found themselves leaning in, their lips meeting wonyoung's in a soft, delicate kiss. it was a kiss filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between them, a sweet exchange of feelings that left them both breathless.

when they pulled away, their eyes locked onto each other's, their expressions a mix of surprise and wonder. y/n's voice was soft as they whispered, "i couldn't resist any longer."

wonyoung's smile was a mixture of delight and affection. "i've been waiting for that."

y/n's fingers played with a strand of wonyoung's hair, a playful glint in their eyes. "well, i had to catch up to all those times you stole kisses from me."

wonyoung chuckled softly, her fingers tracing patterns on the table. "i couldn't help myself. you're just too irresistible."

y/n's grin grew wider. "i'm glad you think so."

the café bustled around them, students coming and going, the aroma of coffee filling the air. but in that little bubble they had created, it was just y/n and wonyoung, two souls intertwined in a love that was as real as it was captivating.

y/n's fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of their coffee cup, their gaze never leaving wonyoung's. "you know, i've never been one to believe in fate, but meeting you has made me question that."

wonyoung's smile held a touch of playfulness, her gaze locking onto y/n's with a glimmer of curiosity. "wait a minute, is that one of those pickup lines you've been practicing?"

y/n's eyes widened in mock surprise, their hand placed dramatically over their heart. "i am deeply offended that you'd accuse me of such a thing! my words are as sincere as my undying love for... coffee."

wonyoung laughed, the sound tinkling like a melody. "oh, really? coffee, huh? that's quite the declaration."

y/n's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "well, you know, it's a classic. coffee has always been there for me, unlike certain tall and charismatic individuals."

wonyoung's playful expression turned into a mock pout. "are you saying i'm not dependable?"

y/n's gaze softened, their fingers brushing gently against wonyoung's knuckles. "on the contrary, you're the most dependable thing in my life. and the most extraordinary."

wonyoung's pout transformed into a warm smile, her thumb brushing over y/n's hand. "you really have a way with words, don't you?"

y/n shrugged, their expression bashful. "i guess they just come naturally when i'm around you."

wonyoung took another sip of her coffee, her gaze focused on the table for a moment as if lost in thought. y/n, ever the observer, watched her with a soft smile, taking in the way her features seemed to light up in the warm glow of the café's lighting. finally, unable to contain their admiration, they spoke.

"you're so pretty," y/n said softly, their voice a gentle affirmation of the thoughts running through their mind.

wonyoung looked up, her eyes meeting y/n's, and her cheeks took on a faint rosy hue. "stop it, you're making me blush."

y/n chuckled, their heart swelling with affection. "i can't help it. i'm just stating the facts."

wonyoung's laughter filled the air once again, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to y/n's face. "well, i have to say, your compliments are almost as charming as your terrible pickup lines."

y/n feigned offense, placing a hand over their chest dramatically. "how dare you insult my impeccable taste in pickup lines? they're an art form!"

wonyoung laughed even harder, her fingers wiping away a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. "oh, believe me, they're a form of something, alright."

y/n grinned, their heart dancing with joy at the sight of wonyoung's laughter. and in that moment, as wonyoung's laughter echoed through the café, something welled up inside y/n—a feeling they had been carrying for a while, a truth they couldn't contain any longer.

"i've got to admit something," y/n's voice wavered slightly, their gaze never leaving wonyoung's.

wonyoung's curiosity was piqued, her eyes attentive as she leaned in a bit closer. "oh? what is it?"

a moment of vulnerability hung in the air, and y/n took a deep breath before continuing. "i think about you... a lot. like, i'm completely and utterly infatuated."

wonyoung's expression softened, her fingers finding their way to y/n's hand. "you're not alone in that, you know."

a playful grin played on y/n's lips. "really? you're infatuated with yourself too?"

wonyoung's pout transformed into a warm smile, her thumb brushing over y/n's hand. "you really have a way with words, don't you?"

y/n shrugged, their expression bashful. "i guess they just come naturally when i'm around you."

wonyoung's fingers found their way to y/n's, their touch sending shivers down y/n's spine. "you have a way of making my heart race too, you know? and i don't mind it one bit."

y/n's breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding like a drum in their chest. with wonyoung's fingers interlaced with theirs, the connection felt electric, a current of emotion flowing between them.

the air around them seemed to shimmer with an unspoken understanding, a shared sentiment that transcended words. and in that moment, the weight of their feelings hung in the space between them.

wonyoung's eyes held a mixture of affection and vulnerability as she whispered, "y/n, there's something i want to tell you."

y/n's heart skipped a beat, their anticipation growing as they waited for wonyoung's next words. "what is it?"

wonyoung took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with emotion.

"i love you, y/n."

the world seemed to stand still for a moment, and y/n's breath caught in their throat. did they hear her right? was this real? for a split second, doubt crept in, freezing y/n in place.

wonyoung's gaze held a hint of playfulness, her smile warm. "cat got your tongue?"

y/n's eyes widened, and they quickly shook their head, the words tumbling out in a rush. "no, no! i mean... i love you too! i really, really do!"

wonyoung's laughter was like a gentle breeze, her eyes dancing with mirth. "oh, how the tables have turned."

y/n's cheeks flushed, and they tried to regain their composure. "i didn't mean to... i mean, i did, but..."

wonyoung leaned in, her lips brushing against y/n's ear as she whispered, "it's okay, you know. i don't mind being the first one to say it."

y/n's heart swelled, their embarrassment melting away in the warmth of wonyoung's reassurance. "well, now i've said it too. and i mean it."

wonyoung leaned back, her expression soft and affectionate. "i know you do. and i'm so glad you do."

y/n couldn't help but smile, their heart full to the brim with affection for the girl sitting across from them. "you know, i never thought i'd be lucky enough to experience something like this."

wonyoung's fingers danced along the rim of her coffee cup, her gaze never leaving y/n's. "and what's that?"

"being utterly and completely in love with you," y/n confessed, their voice a gentle whisper.

wonyoung's smile was a reflection of the stars that had aligned to bring them together. "well, get used to it, because i have a feeling that's not going to change anytime soon."

the corner of y/n's lips quirked up mischievously. "is that a promise?"

wonyoung's laughter, like the tinkling of wind chimes, filled the air around them. "absolutely. i'm not going anywhere."

the world continued to move around them—the café's patrons came and went, the lunchtime rush in full swing—but none of that mattered. in this cozy corner they had carved out for themselves, it was just the two of them, lost in the cadence of their conversation and the unspoken promises that hung in the air.

"y/n?"

wonyoung's voice pulled y/n from their thoughts, their focus narrowing solely on the person who held their heart.

"yeah?"

wonyoung's smile was as bright as the midday sun. "i love you."

y/n's heart swelled, their voice a gentle echo of the emotion that had taken root within them. "i love you too."

wonyoung's laughter danced through the air, a delightful melody that wrapped around them like a warm embrace. "well, you didn't seem as nervous this time," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

y/n playfully nudged her shoulder. "hey now, cut me some slack. it's not every day that someone as amazing as you confesses their love to me."

wonyoung's laughter continued, a joyful chorus that painted the air with happiness. "point taken," she managed to say through her giggles.

"shut up," y/n muttered, though their lips curved into a fond smile.

wonyoung's laughter lingered in the air one last time, a joyful serenade that resonated with the happiness in y/n's heart. with a gentle nudge, she leaned in to place a sweet kiss on y/n's cheek. "you're adorable," she said with an affectionate grin.

y/n's cheeks flushed, their heart dancing with joy. "and you're insufferable," they replied, their tone playful.

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "insufferable, huh? is that why you can't seem to get enough of me?"

y/n rolled their eyes with a mock exasperated sigh, a smile playing on their lips. "you caught me," they admitted, raising their arms in surrender.

as they shared a laugh, y/n found themselves enveloped in a sense of contentment that was as comforting as a warm embrace. in wonyoung's presence, everything felt right, and every worry seemed to melt away.

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