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rowarn · 1 year

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EXPERIENCE (m.)

könig x inexperienced!reader

tags: age gap, acquaintances to lovers, afab!reader but gn

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, fingering, hand riding (hear me out), pussyjob, talking u thru it, praise, pet names (liebling, little one), size kink/difference, handjob, reassurance/encouragement kink, wet&messy, konig is uncut hehe, squirting

note: konig is in his 40s and reader is in their 20s!

;in which you live in the same building as a really hot, older, military man

9.5k

When you met König, you never expected the harmless interactions to ever evolve into anything substantial. He lived somewhere in the same apartment building as you did, though you didn’t know where exactly. Most times, you would find him in the elevator or cross paths with him in the lobby.

You knew he was in the military, most of the people living in the building were. It was close to the nearby base and had rent for a damn good price. The way he carried himself, back straight and body seemingly always at attention gave him away.

He was massive, standing much taller above you with broad shoulders and thick thighs. A lot of the time he was wearing a hood over his face, mostly when he was coming or going from work – which was seemingly all the time.

On the few occasions that you caught him without the hood, you could tell it was him solely by his build. There was no one else in the building who looked anything like that.

He was handsome, in a rugged, tired kind of way. He was a lot older than you were expecting him to be – probably in his early to mid forties, you guessed. He had salt and pepper hair, fine lines etched onto his face, and stern eyes from (no doubt) many years in the military.

You had never properly spoken to him before. Hell, you didn’t even know his name. You greeted him when you saw him and smiled in passing when you made eye contact. Occasionally, he would respond in an accented voice that you longed to ask about.

The event that changed everything was a fun little night out you had with your friends. You had maybe had a bit too much to drink before finally conceding at your friends’ behest to call yourself an Uber.

By the time you reach your apartment building, you’re still very buzzed and starting to feel a little nauseous. You stumble to the elevator and impatiently slam your thumb on the button over and over again, losing count as you do.

“It’s not going to come any faster,” an accented voice drones next to you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you wheeze, hand over your racing heart.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings then,” he says, “Especially when you are intoxicated.”

You huff through your nose, growing annoyed at the prospect of being lectured. The elevator grants mercy and dings before slowly opening. There's a rowdy group of men inside who quickly walk out of the elevator, seedy eyes immediately finding their way to you, scanning your body up and down as they pass by.

You feel that nauseous pit in your stomach twist as you finally step onto the elevator. Nothing to ruin your jovial mood from a nice evening more than a group of leering men. Living in an apartment building filled with soldiers, it wasn’t unusual to have them stare at you – didn’t mean you liked it.

You cross your arms over your chest as König steps on, the elevator creaking and groaning under his immense weight.

“What floor?” he asks softly, glancing at you over his shoulder as he stands in front of the button panel.

“3,” you mumble, leaning against the back wall. You watch him punch in the 3 but not anything else, making you raise a brow, “You live on 3 too?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say another word. You narrow your eyes at his back, if he feels you looking, he doesn’t give it away. The elevator is plunged into silence aside from the quiet sound of the shaft moving up and up until it dings and the doors slide open.

He steps out first, standing in the threshold to keep the door from closing as you push yourself off the wall. Your head swims for a second and you stumble past him, keenly aware of his eyes on you.

You wander down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder to see him slowly stalking behind you. His arms hand limply by his sides, his fists clenched into fists but he remains a respectable distance.

“Why are you following me?” you ask, unable to hide the nervousness in your tone, “You said you don’t live on this floor.”

“Young recruits are tools,” he supplies simply, “I am making sure you make it to your door without any problems.”

That causes you to hum and for a little flutter in your stomach to manifest. You brush it off and pause at your door, pulling your keys out so unlock it. You push it open and step in, letting it hit your back to keep it from closing as you turn to look at your companion.

“Thank you…um…” you clear your throat and look at him expectantly.

“König,” he supplies simply, arms tucked behind his back, making him look even wider.

“König…” you repeat, feeling the words on your tongue, “Interesting name. Where are you from?”

“Austria,” he replies almost mechanically, “I will be going now.”

You don’t get to say another word before he’s stalking away and down the hallway, heavy footfalls practically rumbling the ground beneath him. You slowly close your door and lean against it, hand placed over your racing heart – when did that start up?

You blame it on your inexperience when it comes to men. You’d had a couple boyfriends, pretty standard for someone in their 20s. Your problem was none of them were ever good enough. The over-zealous types who wanted their dicks sucked as gratitude for paying for dinner. Then would turn around and either give you the most lackluster head of your life, barely any foreplay before trying to shove his dick into an unprepared hole.

You had never given them the chance, once they showed they were only interested in their own pleasure and would more than likely not even think about touching your clit or angling for your g-spot, you stopped them and kicked them out. More often than not, you woke up to a break-up text because of course you did.

So that was how you were still a virgin and more or less, at this point, given up on dating. You’d been single now for the better part of 6 months and had no intentions of giving any men your own age a shot at it.

But…you hadn’t considered an older man. Like König.

At that thought, you pushed yourself off the door and kicked your shoes off, intent on taking a shower to hopefully wash these drunken thoughts out of your head. So he’d been nice and walked you to your door, no questions asked, so what? Didn’t make him any different from men your age.

As you made it to the bathroom, you felt your stomach finally churn for the final time and found your head buried in the toilet. You cursed yourself for not listening to your friends, who apparently knew your own limits better than you did.

The next time you see König is just a few days later. You walk into the apartment’s gym on the ground floor, and there he is – sitting lifting weights. You pause when you see him, feeling that traitorous flutter in your chest you were sure you puked out that night you had learned his name.

You watch the way his biceps flex, bulging so large you’re sure not even two of your hands could wrap around the girth of it. There were some scars littering his skin, most of them white and raised from age but a few that still had that new tissue pink color. You also noticed some fading tattoos encircling his forearms. Fuck, he was hot.

You hung your head and scampered over to the treadmill, intent on getting your cardio up.

As you run, you notice a group waltz in, laughing and shoving each other. You glance over at them, rolling your eyes when some of them make eye contact and nudge their buddies. They lean in close and whisper to each other with shit eating grins on their faces and you find frustration building up so you try to ignore them.

“Quiet,” you hear an accented voice snap, full of authority, “You are disturbing everyone.”

The rowdy young men quiet down immediately and clear their throats, “S-Sorry, Colonel,” one of them utters.

‘Colonel? Is that high ranking?’ you find yourself wondering, making a mental note to look that up later.

Either way, König manages to make the gym peaceful once again and you finish your workout with no other hitches.

You grab your towel and dab at the sweat on your face and neck as you swiftly make your way out of the gym, completely unaware of the shadow following closely behind.

You slow to a stop at the elevator, punching the button to call it as you sip on your water bottle, mindlessly going over what else you need to do with your day. The shadow behind you remains stagnant, still and silent as it lurks behind your unsuspecting form as the elevator opens and you step on.

He follows, hefty weight causing the elevator to groan as usual. That gets your attention and you jump, placing a delicate hand over your racing heart just like you had before, eyes wide in shock at his appearance.

“You’re doing it on purpose now!” you whine at him and he has to fight back a smile at it.

“I told you that you needed to pay more attention to your surroundings,” he replies smoothly, pressing the 3 button for you before pressing 5 for himself.

“How is a guy as big as you able to be so quiet?” you ask softly, making note of the floor he lives on.

“Years of training,” he gives a quick response that you hum at. There is a beat of silence before he finds himself speaking again, “You never gave me your name.”

He sees the way you look at him in surprise and he almost wishes he could rip the words from the air as soon as he says them. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea that he actually wants to get to know you.

But you smile softly and give him your name with a kind nod of your head before the elevator grants him mercy and dings at the arrival on your floor.

“See you around, König,” you say as you step off.

He doesn’t respond.

Once back in the safety of your apartment, you find yourself going through the entire interaction in your head over and over again. Your heart races as you think back on him.

It's as you’re making dinner for yourself that you finally have the coherent thought of revelation that you may have a crush on König.

The revelation is almost enough to have you groaning out of frustration into the quiet sanctity of your apartment but you manage to refrain. But you can’t deny you don’t quite know what to do about it now. You had sworn off of men but…that was men your own age. König was…older than you, surely at least 15 years your senior, possibly more. You figure it couldn’t hurt to ask him out for some coffee one of these days.

Except, the next time you see König is almost 2 weeks later. You don’t see hide nor hair of him at all. It definitely puts a damper on your confidence and you almost think your crush was just a fleeting little thing and for that you’re grateful for.

Until the elevator opens one day and there he is. He’s wearing his hood but his eyes look even more exhausted than usual – beyond the general tiredness that comes with age. You carefully step on, joining him in the downward descent to the lobby. It’s just the two of you and feel that fluttering in your chest start up again and your hands begin to sweat. You scour your brain for something to say — anything to start up a conversation after so long of not seeing him.

“Haven’t seen you around,” you mutter softly. He hums softly in acknowledgement but doesn’t supply much of a response beyond that, “Where have you been?” you try again.

“Deployed,” he finally responds after several seconds of silence.

You can’t find any way to respond or keep the conversation going but it’s sure that he has no intentions of doing so anyway. Still, it surprised you that he had been deployed, you hadn’t considered that. It made sense now that you thought about it.

The elevator opened and you both stepped out. He walked much faster than you, beelining out of the apartment and you briefly considered letting him go but another part of you wanted to stop him and ask him out.

You cursed to yourself and jogged forward, calling his name. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of you calling for him. He looks down at you over his nose, a burning gaze that makes your nervousness spike. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good time after all.

“What?” he snaps, clearly impatient.

“Oh um…” you clear your throat and slow to a stop, “N-Nevermind…”

He huffs through his nose and resumes storming out of the apartment. You find yourself sighing deeply, following his lead. When you get outside, he’s nowhere to be seen and you once again find yourself wondering how a man of his size is so good at not being seen.

A few nights later, the weekend rolls around and you find yourself standing in that damned elevator with him once again. He’s maskless and it gives you pause before stepping on.

It’s silent for a few seconds before he says, “I am sorry for the other day.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, “Um…what do you mean?”

“I was not polite towards you,” he answers, casting a soft gaze towards you that makes your heart flutter, “I took my bad mood out on you and I should not have. So…I am sorry.”

“Oh…” you clear your throat and give him a smile, “it’s alright, König. I shouldn’t have bothered you with something silly.”

He frowns at you, “Something silly?”

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, smiling kindly at him.

He wants to ask you what you mean but the elevator door opens and you step out, making him realize that you reached your floor. You wave your goodbye to him as the doors close and he lets his head fall back with a sigh once he’s alone.

Yet another bad day weighed heavily on his shoulders when you came waltzing into the elevator, bright eyed and happy. His fists were clenched behind his back and he did his best to avoid looking at you, hoping you would take the hint and not speak to him like you usually did. It hadn’t been but a day since he had apologized to you for making an ass of himself in the lobby and he didn’t want to do the same thing so soon after.

But then you say something that sends it all crumbling down.

“Hey…” you start, fidgeting your fingers in front of you, “Would you like to get coffee sometime? Maybe lunch?”

You ask it so sweetly and softly. For some reason, that grates on his nerves even more than anything.

“What?” he snaps, cold and sharp in a way that makes you visibly freeze.

You look up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, “Um…w-well, I just…it’s…I would like to…”

Your nervous babbling only serves to piss him off even more as his glare narrows down on you, making you shrink in on yourself where you stand. Suddenly, the elevator feels much smaller than it had ever before – even with him filling most of the space as usual.

“You want to go out with me?” he spits, his accent growing stronger with every venomous word that he can’t seem to stop from spilling from his lips, “I am twice your age, what the hell makes you think I would want to date you?”

You swallow thickly around the lump forming in your throat and bite back the tears that threaten to form. He hears you sniffle and promptly snaps his head to look at you. Under the ugly, yellow light of the elevator he can see the tears trickling down your cheeks and he suddenly wants to slap himself into the next decade.

He wants to open his mouth so badly and apologize for being so cruel to you. He knows he could have told you no in a much softer way rather than making your feelings seem like something revolting or stupid. But the elevator doors open and you’re slipping out before he even has a chance. He decides not to chase after you.

It’s for the best, he assures himself.

It only takes a few days before he’s vehemently regretting not stopping you then and there.

It happens on a Friday night, the elevators are closing just as a hand jumps between them, sending them opening again. You step on, giggling in a way that tells him you’re just a little inebriated. You freeze when you see him standing there, maskless and cold gaze as he watches you tug a young man into the elevator behind you – clearly a little drunk himself.

You pointedly stand in front of König, keeping your back to him to show that you’re not even willing to look at him. König feels his heart clench painfully in his chest before it’s replaced by a wash of anger as he watches the young man paw at you. He slips his hand down your back to grope at your ass, making you giggle breathlessly before you’re batting his hands away with a little bat of your lashes.

König wishes he had an excuse to step off the elevator at the same time as you – anything to prolong his time with you. He’s never felt the desire to cockblock someone more in his whole entire life.

But he doesn’t move. He just watches you step off without a single glance in his direction before you’re vanishing around the corner and the elevator doors close silently, leaving König alone with his thoughts.

You couldn’t believe you brought this guy to your apartment. You especially couldn’t believe you were letting him strip you of your clothes and paw at your body like some kind of mindless dog. You had sworn to yourself that you were not going to fall into this trap again – a 20-something year old guy buying you a drink, complimenting you a little, teasing and groping you in the club until you caved and brought him home. It wasn’t your first go around – and it always ended the same way.

But you were drunk and you needed to get your mind off that stupid, giant Austrian military man that lived in your building. And wouldn’t you know it, he was on the elevator as soon as you got in. It was almost enough to sober you up, your wounded pride and feelings still so prevalent even after a few days of nursing the hurt.

You could only hope that this would relieve you of your hurt feelings.

Unfortunately, you quickly realized that this was a mistake.

As soon as he started groping you, spreading your legs and trying to stuff his cock inside you without so much as a single finger of prep – you knew this wasn’t going to happen.

You tried to lead him, thinking maybe he was a little too tipsy to actually think about it.

“How about a little prep, hm?” you ask softly.

He pauses what he’s doing and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, “Oh…you’re one of those…”

He says it in disgust and you feel yourself bristle in annoyance, “One of what?”

“You want me to eat you out, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “That shit’s gross, c’mon just let me stick it in, already.” It was that moment that you felt any minute desire you had to have sex evaporate.

You don’t even bother walking the guy out, leaving him to limp to the elevator in shame with a hard cock and blue balls.

It takes you a few days to find it in yourself to crawl out of your apartment. The only reason you actually do leave is because you’re in need of food – your little supply of ramen has depleted and you have to bite the bullet.

After your little shopping trip at the nearby convenience store, you find yourself waiting for the elevator when a dark shadow looms over you. You feel a pit of dread in your stomach as you smell the musky, sweet scent of his cologne. But you don’t dare acknowledge his presence.

He doesn’t give you long to ignore him, however, before he’s talking to you.

“How was your little date?” he asks, voice dripping in a tone of condescension that immediately puts you on edge.

“What’s it to you?” you hiss, still not daring to look at him.

He scoffs, “You went and found yourself a little toy to play with awfully fast. Seems your interest in me wore off quickly, no?”

That gets you to finally turn around, meeting his cold, indifferent gaze with your hot, teary one. You miss the look of surprise that flashes over his face.

“What is your problem?” you snap, “You rejected me, what the hell do you care what I do? And for your information, the date was shit. He was shit, like I should have expected any difference. God, I really am a fucking idiot,” you find yourself rambling, a lamenting spiel that you can’t seem to stop no matter how badly you want to, “Just like every prick before him, he was selfish and revolting. I thought I could finally get fucking laid and just call it a day but no, my stupid standards are too high and I find myself asking out the hot older guy in my building only for him to find me revolting!”

By the time you’re done ranting, the doors open and you storm out of the elevator, angrily gripping your bag of groceries. König is frozen where he stands, watching you leave as the doors slowly close – almost begging him to put his hand between them and stop them so he can chase after you.

But he doesn’t.

It’s creeping up on midnight when there’s a knock on your apartment door. You’re curled up on the couch, watching some random show that you weren’t really invested in but couldn’t be bothered to change.

The knock makes you jump, startled, but get up nonetheless. A quick peek in the peephole tells you exactly who it is before you even open it.

You briefly consider not opening it period but find yourself opening it before you actually settle on a decision.

König stands in front of you, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, looking comically small. The sight is almost enough to get you to crack a smile. Almost.

But the residual hurt from the last few interactions you’ve had with him is enough to keep you stoic. You raise a brow and you practically see his confidence falter. A pang of guilt goes through you at the sight and you step aside, waving him in with a quiet huff.

He closes the door behind him softly, kicking his boots off as he watches you wander into the living room. You take a seat on your couch, covering yourself with your throw blanket once again as you watch him wander in, gazing around at your decor before finally settling on you.

“Um…” He clears his throat nervously and places the flowers on your coffee table, “I think that we should talk…”

“Should we?” you quip back.

He sighs, broad shoulders heaving with the movement before he takes a seat beside you, taking up a hefty amount of space on your small couch.

“I want to apologize,” he says softly, folding his hands in his lap, “When you asked me out…I-I should not have spoken to you like that.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “If that’s all this is about, König, then you can go. I-I don’t really want to hear a half-assed apology about the way you rejected me. You’re not interested, let’s just move on from it. I’ll get over it.”

He shakes his head quickly and curses under his breath, a word you don’t understand – German, your brain supplies, helpfully.

“You are wrong,” he says, “I do not want you to get over it because I am interested.”

The gets you to perk up, eyes wide, “What do you mean? You said you–”

“I know what I said,” he mutters, “I am…twice your age…”

“So you mentioned before…” you reply.

“I do not think…you should be with someone old like me,” he continues softly, “You should be with someone your own age. That is what I thought. It is not that I don’t find you attractive; I think you’re sweet and lovely. But it's just…our age difference…”

“König,” you stop him from continuing, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

“I understand that but…” he trails off, casting a sideways glance across the room, away from you.

“I’ve tried dating men my own age, König,” you say, “It always ends the same – I send them home blue balled.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose and finally sets his gaze back on you, “Why do you do that?”

“I don’t plan to…” you begin, running your hand along the soft fabric of your blanket, “it’s just that...I bring them home and then we start getting into it and it fucking sucks!”

“Sucks..?” The question is soft and drawn out.

“He wants to fuck my throat and won’t even give me his fingers before trying to stick his dick in,” you spit, angrily glaring at the tv as you remember all your shit encounters, “I’ve never even let one of them go all the way.”

“You’re a virgin…?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “I guess. I mean I’ve had shitty oral and stuff but…”

“I see…” he trails off, shifting in his seat, hands still folded in his lap, “Well, I would like to take you out for a date after all.”

You find a smile spreading across your face faster than you can stop it. You jump to your knees and throw your arms around his shoulders with a squeal of happiness, “Really? You mean it?”

He laughs breathlessly, a husky little sound that makes your heart race, “Does this weekend work for you?”

You eagerly nod your head and lean in. You catch the way his eyes widen briefly before your lips meet. You think he’s going to pull away from you but instead he cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss.

You feel a shiver go through you at the feeling of his big, strong hand holding you there in the kiss. You couldn’t keep yourself from getting wet even if you wanted to.

With your hands pressed against his firm chest, you toss one leg over his lap and find yourself seated on top of him. He breaks the kiss at that, hands migrating to your waist where he mindlessly strokes his thumb over the skin exposed by the way your shirt rode up.

You lean down and kiss him again and he groans against your mouth. You grind down against him in response to the throb that makes your pussy clench around nothing. You whimper into the kiss when he suddenly stops your movements with a firm grip.

“We shouldn’t, liebling,” he whispers softly.

“Why not?” you whine, settling in his lips. You briefly realize that you can feel something hard beneath you and that makes you start dripping in your panties, “Don’t you want to?”

“I-I do…” he assures, “I just…want to properly court you…”

He couldn’t get any sweeter if he tried. Still, you quip back with a teasing little smile, “Wow, you are a lot older than me, huh?”

You feel giddy when the sweet look in his eyes melts away into something darker. One hand clasps the back of your head before he pulls you in for a much rougher kiss. You keen as you feel the way he exudes experience – the kiss like nothing you have ever experienced before.

The way he moves his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth to taste your mouth, it’s not gross or too much the way it sometimes is with men who don’t know what they’re doing.you find yourself moaning into the kiss before you even realize it.

He pulls away at that, a heady look in his pretty, blue eyes. You find yourself briefly lamenting the loss of his mouth but that thought disappears quickly when he moves to begin peppering kisses along the length of your neck, making sure to nip at your jaw and kiss your shoulder.

He tugs the hem of your t-shirt down just a bit so he can have access to your collar bones, nipping and kissing there as well. Your head falls back as you surrender yourself to him completely.

“Oh,” he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear, “You are just so sweet for me, aren’t you, little one?”

You practically whimper at his words as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips barely grazing your skin. You squirm in his lap as his touch tickles you on his way up to your breasts, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his roughened palms.

You sigh into the quiet room, arching your back to press deeper into his hands. His thumbs graze over your nipples and you moan.

Sure, you’ve had guys grope your tits before but it had never felt like this. The mindless squishing and squeezing was replaced with soft cupping and gentle brushes over your nipples until they hardened followed by pinches and flicks that left you absolutely dripping in your panties.

He takes mercy on you quickly, one hand sliding down your body to slide under your sweatpants and beneath your panties. Your hands grip his shoulders, blunt nails biting into them when one broad finger slides down, the sticky noise of your folds separating enough to send heat rushing to your cheeks.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in a tone so soft you almost think it wasn’t meant for you, but then he tacks on, “Do you hear it?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, embarrassment flooding through you at the sticky, clicking noises that come along with his prodding, “N-Never been this wet before, König…”

That causes him to pause, blue eyes gazing at you through his eyelashes, “Is that so..?” You desperately nod your head, slowly beginning to rock your hips against his hand, but he doesn’t move again and you whine, “Has anyone ever made you cum on their fingers?”

“J-Just me,” you answer breathlessly without a second thought.

He hums thoughtfully and after a second, he begins moving his hand again. This time he introduces more fingers, spreading your folds apart with his index and ring so he can pet your hardened clit with his middle. The feeling makes tremors run through your body and he huffs a laugh, “I guess I will show you what it feels like then, yeah?”

He doesn’t give you a moment to think let alone answer before his middle finger is sliding into you. The one digit alone is enough to stretch you, given how massive he is in whole. He crooks his finger forward and a moan rips from your chest when he hits that gooey little spot inside you.

“A-Another, please, König!” you beg shamelessly.

“Shh,” he hushes, shaking his head, “Let me work you open on this and then you can have more.”

You practically wail in despair, letting your forehead drop forward onto his shoulder. You suddenly wish you had rid yourself of your clothes so you could see the way his hand worked against you. All you could see now was the faint movement under your pants but the mental image of that thick finger inside you, slick with your juices was enough to have you clenching desperately around him.

After a moment, he adds a second finger and you feel like you’re in heaven. The stretch is phenomenal and his palm bumps against your clit every time he sinks them into the last knuckle.

However, before he can set a rhythm to really start getting you off, he stops. You angrily lean back and glare at him – the sight has his lips quirking up.

“Ride my fingers,” he orders you, leaving no room for arguing.

You can tell he’s not going to give you anything unless you take it for yourself so you sit up higher on your knees so you can have the clearance to move. Your hands remain on his shoulders, clinging to him for stability as you clumsily begin to rock your hips. The only time you’ve ever done these movements is when you tried humping your pillow once after seeing it in some porn. It didn’t really do much for you so you never tried again.

König can tell your movements are clumsy and it makes his cock throb against his thigh. He helps you along, crooking his fingers just right to grind the tips against that sweet little spot inside you. It makes you moan beautifully and he files the noise away.

His other hand comes up to grip your hip, steadying you as you continue to hump his fingers. You’re growing more and more frustrated as you quickly realize that you’re not able to make it feel as good as he had earlier. The tearful little gaze you give him has him breaking, using the hand on your hip guiding you into more seamless movements.

“Like this, liebling,” he directs softly, “Grind down like that, mhm, give that little clit some love, yeah?”

You become increasingly breathless as you work yourself higher and higher under his expert guidance. He can feel your juices dripping down his wrist, the snug hold around his fingers growing even tighter with every little rut of your hips.

“You’re so precious,” he coos, feeling the way you clench up at the sound of his voice. Your body is so honest, telling him what you like without you having to say anything, “You’re going to cum, I can feel it. Be good and give it to me, yeah?”

You surge forward and desperately kiss him, one hand reaching down and gripping his wrist. It takes only a few more, desperate thrusts of your hips for you to topple over that edge. Your body trembles on his lap and you cry out in pleasure.

He moans alongside you, watching with rapt attention as you cum all over his fingers just like he told you to.

You slump against him as you come down and he pulls his hands out of your pants. He presses a kiss against your temple in silent praise, hands rubbing your back to soothe you through the aftershocks that run through your body.

You lean back and meet his gaze, an opportunity he takes to slip his cum-soaked fingers into his mouth. At that, you surge forward and kiss him, running your hands down his body to pull at the button of his jeans. He grunts into your mouth, brows furrowing at the release of pressure when you tug the zipper down.

You’re absolutely speechless when you finally pull his cock free. He watches in poorly concealed pride as you gawk at the length in your hand. You give him a slow and tedious tug, watching the foreskin roll over his head, forcing a bead of precum from the tip.

“You’re so…big,” you whisper breathlessly.

“I know,” he grunts, unable to hide the ebbs of pleasure you give him as you play with his cock.

“Cocky,” you tease softly, continuing with your soft touches.

“N-Not cocky,” he whispers, licking his suddenly dry hips, “Just aware of my size.”

You drop your eyes back down to his cock, hot and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don't even touch each other when wrapped around him. Precum drips from the tip, leaking down the side to meet your palm and aid in the movements.

He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge in someone else’s hand. Your palm was so soft, much softer than his own, and delicate in your inexperience.

He reaches down with one his hands, wrapping around yours to make you squeeze tighter, “Just like that, little one, that’s how I like it.”

You could have drooled as he said it. His hand dwarfed yours and the sight made you clench around nothing, more slick leaking into your already ruined panties.

“Let me see you, liebling,” he whispers breathlessly, fingers hooking on the hem of your top.

You release his cock to lift your arms, letting him tug the fabric over your head. His hands are on your tits immediately, mouthing at your nipples without wasting a second.

“So pretty,” he coos with his mouth full, rolling his tongue over your nipple before nipping the bud with his lips.

He switches to the other one, wrapping his mouth around it, sucking sharply before pulling back, taking your nipple with him before releasing it with a pop. You watch with lidded eyes as he drools all over your tits. His cock flexes and twitches against your thigh as he plays with your tits.

Suddenly, with a firm grip on your waist, your whole world flips and you find yourself on your back on the couch with König on top of you. You lick your lips at the sight of his big, broad form hovering above you, caging you in as he leans down to kiss you again.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth, threading your fingers through his short, messy hair, using the grip to pin him against you. He lets you kiss him to your heart's content, only pulling back when you need air – a string of spit connecting your lips that breaks when he leans back between your thighs.

His fingers took into the band of your pants, tugging them down, taking your panties with them until you’re completely bared before him. He’s still completely clothed aside from his cock that rests against his abdomen, occasionally twitching as his eyes rake over your nude body.

“Tell me, liebling,” he says, strong hands running up the length of your thighs, “Has anyone ever eaten you out?”

You clumsily nod your head.

“Was it good?” he asks, biting back a smile when you shake your head.

“Guys always think it’s gross or something…” you whisper softly.

He hums softly, “That is because you’ve been messing with stupid little boys.”

“You gonna eat me out, König?” you ask him, biting your lip in a poorly concealed excited grin.

“Would you like me to?” as he asks, he slowly spreads your legs open. The position causes your folds to spread apart, opening you up for his greedy eyes.

You feel your breathing speed up as he kisses down your body, starting with your lips and ending right above your clit. You feel the little bud twitch in anticipation as he tongues the skin above it, giving you a sneak peek on what is so close to it.

“Tell me,” he says.

You whine, “Y-Yes, I want you to eat me out, König!”

He chuckles softly but doesn’t bother teasing you anymore. He meets your gaze and moves his tongue lower finally, sliding the flat of the muscle of your clit. You gasp and toss your head back into the cushions, eyes rolling back as he noisily slurps at your cunt.

“O-Oh god!” you wail, hiccuping out noises of pleasure that you can’t seem to quiet.

König is in heaven. It’s not every day that he gets the opportunity to eat such a pretty, inexperienced little cunt. Your reactions to everything are so strong and loud. Your pussy is loud too, squelching in the room, making an intoxicating melody with your moans. He moans against you, swallowing down everything your messy little pussy drools out for him.

“Th-That feels so good, König!” you sob, kicking your feet mindlessly against his back as he captures your clit in his mouth, suckling at the bud, “You’re so good, so good, oh god!”

Never in a million years did you think being eaten out could feel this good. The mindlessly, halfhearted licks and kisses you had received in the past did nothing to prepare you for what it felt like to really have a man’s tongue on you.

He pulls away suddenly, giving you a moment to actually breathe, “You taste so sweet, liebling.”

“König…” you whimper, looking up at him with lidded eyes, “Please, please don’t stop.”

You tug at his hair and attempt to pull his mouth back down on your pussy. You don’t care how pathetic and desperate it is, he has given you a taste of pleasure you’d never experienced before.

He has the audacity to laugh at you, brushing your hands away so he can sit up straight again. He scoots closer and you realize then that he is not planning to continue and it practically draws a sob out of you.

“We can focus on that another time, liebling,” he promises, making you clench around nothing, more slick dribbling out for him to see, “You are so messy, you know that? Never had someone make such a mess all over me before. You must really enjoy being eaten out, huh?”

You feel your face burn hot with shame at his words, shyly hiding your face away. He smiles softly at that, “Nothing to be ashamed of, liebling…I love it, I do.”

“Really?” you quiver out the question and he nods his head.

“Yes, little one,” he coos, “I’m glad that I can make it feel good for you.”

You practically feel hearts in your eyes as he says that. You don’t think you’ve ever had a man tell you that he actually cared and enjoyed your pleasure. That was the final nail in the coffin for you – you really should have been going after older men all this time.

He disrupts your thoughts by suddenly stripping his shirt off. Your mouth goes completely dry at the sight of his bared skin – firm muscle, hair speckled all over his torso, and numerous scars from untold stories of his time in the military. You take note of the faded tattoos that become visible on his pecs and biceps; you’d always noticed the tattoos on his arms but you’d never really been given the opportunity to look.

“You’re so handsome,” you whisper.

He pauses while ridding himself of his jeans and smiles, “Thank you, little one.”

When he’s completely bare to you, you slowly rake your eyes down the entirety of his newly exposed body. His cock hangs heavy under its own weight, glimmering at the tip with his precum. You’d never been with a guy who was uncut but the sight made you drool.

“Now, liebling,” he says suddenly, getting your attention. He scoots closer, spreading your legs as wide as he can before laying the hefty weight of his cock against your cunt. It’s hot and throbbing and your entire body trembles at the sight, “You have to understand something.”

“What..?” you ask, breathless and unable to look away from his cock.

“I am not like those little boys you were running around with,” he explains, hips slowly beginning to rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, drawing a sweet little moan from you, “I don’t stick my cock in a tight little cunt and blow my load, do you know what I’m saying?”

You shake your head, too lost in the sight and feeling of him practically fucking the outside of your pussy. He doesn’t stop the mind-numbing rolls of his hips, letting you get lost in the feeling of him stroking over your clit, saturating him in your cum.

“That means,” he sighs, reaching up to grip your throat, forcing you to look at him as he leaned over your body, sandwiching his cock between the two of you, “I don’t cum easily, liebling. I am a grown man, I will fuck you until you cannot cum anymore. Are you prepared for that?”

The fact this man was so confident in his abilities in bed has you clenching around nothing again. You were sure the guys you almost slept with would never have been able to have the pure confidence that came from König. He knew what he was doing – he knew how to make you cum and he was going to use that experience well. You knew his age played a factor in how long it would take him to cum and you couldn’t wait to experience it.

“I want it so bad, König,” you beg softly, “Please?”

“Very good,” he praised, “You’re so good for me.”

He finally gripped the base of his cock and you watched excitedly as he pressed the tip against your entrance. You reached down and wrapped your arms around your knees, pulling them back for him so he could comfortably begin pressing into you.

The stretch is beyond anything you’d ever felt before. You knew his cock was big but watching the bulbous tip press against you and slowly spread you wide open was something else entirely. It burned in a way that had you wincing, furrowed brows making your face pinch up, making König pause.

“It’s okay, little one,” he whispers, bringing a big thumb up to roll over your hard little clit, “Just relax for me, don’t clench up or it will hurt more.”

“I-It’s so big, König!” you wail helplessly, tearily staring up at him as he methodically works you open on his cock.

“I know,” he assures, still stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb, “But you can take it.”

You tearfully nod your head and do your best to relax your body, letting yourself sink into the couch.

“Good, liebling, very good,” he coos, “Just let me in, nice and slow. Doesn’t it feel nice? The little burn of being stretched open but the pleasure of having this pretty little clit played with? Just lay back and enjoy it, little one.”

He’s right, of course. The burn aches, yes, but the pain and pleasure mixes the more he rubs your clit. You clench around him, an involuntary reaction that causes the head of his cock to finally pop in. Your eyes widen as you watch your cunt swallow it and with a perfectly timed tap against your clit, your back arches and you’re cumming.

“O-Oh König!” you squeal, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum around the head of his cock and nothing else.

“Oh, that’s good,” he grins, “That’s perfect, little one.”

As you come down with a tremble in your thighs, you finally fix your gaze on him once again.His eyes are lidded and pupils are blown so wide you can’t even tell they’re blue anymore.

“That looked like a good one,” he comments almost flippantly before he rolls his hips forward, “Now you’re nice and ready for me.”

You choke on a gasp as he rolls his hips forward, fitting half of his cock inside your still spasming cunt. Your cum coats him in a slick sheen that aides in allowing him to pull back and slide back in, settling on fucking you on half his cock.

Your mouth falls open and you watch as a thick, milky ring forms around that fat middle part of his shaft, “M-More, König! Please!”

He knows you want all of him, want to know what it’s like to feel all of him stuffed deep inside you. But he knows you’re not quite ready for that yet, fucked out of your head from the intense orgasm he had just given you with ease.

“Not yet, liebling,” he coos, keeping his pace slow and steady, “Let’s work you open a little bit more, yeah?”

“No,” you whine, “Please, I want it all, König.”

“Aww, I know you do, little one,” he pants, already feeling dizzy from spearing you on his cock, “But I know what’s good for you, just listen to me and be good, okay?”

“Okay…” you pitifully whimper, sinking back into the couch.

You abandon your hold on your legs, letting them rest around his hips limply now. He continues moving like that, inching deeper and deeper into you with every thrust. Your cunt makes embarrassingly loud squishing noises the move he works his hips against you.

Before you know it, you’re watching with wide eyes and an open mouth as his pelvis presses against yours. Your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl in pure pleasure as you finally experience the entirety of everything König has to offer.

You’re speared wide open and the head knocks against your cervix painfully but the little bit of pain only makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

“There we go, little one,” he coos sweetly, “I’m so proud of you, took all of my cock so well.”

He’s so big that he presses against every sweet little spot inside you without even trying. But, oh, his experience is crystal clear in the way he moves. He may be naturally gifted with a nice, fat cock but he knew how to use it.

Seamless, rhythmic thrusts had your brain going fuzzy before you even knew what was happening. You wouldn’t have been able to be quiet even if you wanted to. You knew you would be absolutely horrified to face your neighbors later because it would be impossible for them to not know you got fucked real good.

Suddenly, König leaned over you, resting one forearm above your head to hold his weight off of you. The position caused his pelvis against your clit every time he sunk balls deep. Sticky strings of your cum stuck to his skin but he didn’t seem to even notice how wet you were.

But, oh, he did. He was absolutely obsessed with the way you creamed and gushed around him. A nice, pliant little pussy that was more than eager to swallow every inch of his cock.

The change in position had you grappling onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wailed into his shoulder. Every mind-numbing snap of his hips hit that gooey, tender spot inside you that had your entire body twitching from the pleasurable stimulation. Your nails bit into his back and he briefly thought about the prospect of his recruits seeing them.

“Are you going to cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, pressing a sweet kiss underneath your ear.

You nod your head, “Y-Yes! You’re gonna make me c-cum again, König!”

He chuckles under his breath, “I know I am, little one. I’m going to make you squirt.”

“C-Can’t,” you heave, twitchy legs kicking against his back.

“Yes, you can,” he assures, leaning away to sit up once again, “I can make you squirt, trust me.”

The whine you emit pitches into a squeal when he presses his palm against your lower stomach. You reached down in a panic to grab his wrist, not used to the strange feeling of him pressing down while he fucks you.

“W-Wait!” you wail.

“Wait for what?” he asks, but doesn’t slow even a bit in his movements.

“F-Feels weird!” you gasp, hiccuping as you squeeze his wrist.

“I know,” he grunts, brows furrowing at the feeling of you clenching around him, “It’s supposed to. Just lay back and let it happen, liebling. I’ve got you.”

Your whole body trembles and your jaw drops as you meet his gaze, a look of wonder crossing your face as you feel an orgasm like you’ve never felt before crash over your body. It’s long, drawn out and almost painful from how good it feels. You squeeze tight around him, your clit twitching and pulsing, completely untouched as he makes you squirt. It splashes against his abdomen and drips down his thighs.

“There we go,” he laughs, a sound that sends a flush of embarrassment to your face, “See? I told you you could do it.”

“König…” you slur, feeling as if you’ve been fucked completely braindead.

It finally dawned on you that you would never, ever be fucked by anyone as good as König has fucked you. The first cock you’ve ever been stuffed full of and he made you squirt with terrifying ease. You were completely ruined, no dick would ever be able to compare to his.

He sees the way your gaze turns completely enamored, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. He grins, sharp canines poking out as he leans down again, kissing your temple.

“What is it, baby?” he coos, “Dick so good it’s got you in love?”

You keen at the pure condescension that drips from his voice. But he’s not wrong, you can practically feel the hearts in your eyes as you gaze up at him.

You have no idea how long you’ve been pinned beneath him, speared open on his cock while he fucks you absolutely stupid. You notice the change in him quite suddenly. His deep, concentrated thrust changed into something less calculated, messy almost. He loses his rhythm and falters in his pace.

“I’m going to cum, liebling,” he grunts, tone pitchy and gruff, “Where do you want it?”

“Inside!” you immediately cry, not missing a beat. He sees your eyes light up at the prospect of being filled up completely by his cum. You’re so sure it’s going to be a lot, you want to feel it drip out of you as a reminder that he had claimed you.

“Is it safe?” he huffs, but you can feel his cock twitch inside you at the idea of cumming inside you.

You desperately nod your head and he allows himself to fall over that edge. He teeters on his knees before collapsing with his hands on either side of your head. He no longer tries to thrust, settling for desperate, deep grinds that stirs his cock within your walls. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling, another orgasm washing over you before you even realize you’re that close.

“Oh, fuck,” König gasps, voice breaking as your orgasm sends him over the edge.

You’re panting and whimpering, trembling as you feel the heat of his load filling you up. His cock twitches with every spurt of cum. It’s the best orgasm he’s had in a long time, his balls throbbing with every pump of cum his cock spits out.

It oozes from around the tight seal you have around him, dripping onto the couch. He’s trembling by the time the intense orgasm comes to an end. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, to see you sleepily staring up at him with a dazed smile on your lips.

“Mein Gott…” he huffs out, lowering his body to press his lips against yours sweetly, “That was incredible, liebling.”

You beam under his praise and wrap your arms around his neck, “It was, wasn’t it?”

He chuckles and strokes his thumb against your cheek, “Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you agree.

The care he gives you afterwards is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. He wipes your body down gently, careful not to rub your skin too hard. He stands with you in the shower, towering over you as he lathers your exhausted body with soap.

“Can we do that again sometime?” You ask softly when he crawls into bed beside you – which you were shocked about, but didn’t complain.

He raises a brow and chuckles, “Yes, liebling. But not right now, I could not go another round so soon.”

You giggle and snuggle into his broad chest, practically preening when he wraps you up snug against him. You sigh softly and speak up again, “Can we…still go on that date..?”

He’s quiet for a moment before you feel a kiss on the top of your head, “Of course, liebling. I would love to.”

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, content to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is another soft kiss against your head. You realize, sleepily, that you’ve never felt more cared for by a man in your life.

property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

#könig smut #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x reader #cod x reader #cod smut

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tonycries · 6 months

Text

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h.

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.

And then it’s all black.

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”

“It’s al-”

“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh.

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit.

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.

All for him.

It’s too much.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.

You.

And then he’s cumming.

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture.

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do.

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”

Except maybe those.

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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thankskenpenders · 3 months

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The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings review

The day has finally come. Many, understandably, thought we'd never get here. Maybe we shouldn't have gotten here. We've been through so much. Lawsuits, reboots, redesigns, unreleased NFTs, empty legal threats over the fact that movie Knuckles has a dad, an attempt to license out Scourge the Hedgehog to fans that immediately got canceled (in both meanings of the term), and many, MANY idiotic Twitter controversies. But now, here we are.

Thirteen years after first announcing it in the middle of his legal battles with Archie and Sega that changed the American Sonic comics forever, former writer Ken Penders has released the first part of his new series: The Lara-Su Chronicles.

Yes. I had to buy the book. I had to take one for the team. Look at the fucking URL of this blog, a blog I've been using to talk about the American Sonic comics for nearly a decade while the specter of this book loomed in the distance. The one time I've actually been paid to write an article about anything in any professional capacity, it was an article about the Penders lawsuits. I'm cited on his Wikipedia page. There was no way I was going to skip reviewing this, and there was no guarantee that scans would ever turn up online given the incredibly small audience for this trash. (Only 166 people preordered this, and even that number feels way higher than it should be.) No, I had to preorder it to ensure I could get a copy and cover it for the blog... even if that meant my name would be forever immortalized in the list of "supporters" in the back of the book. These are the sacrifices I must make as a woman who stumbled ass backwards into being an amateur Archie Sonic historian.

So, what exactly is in this book? How much of it is new? How bad is it? How did we even get here in the first place? How can this exist without Sega pursuing legal action? What happens next? And, most importantly... why are there multiple depictions of an Archie Sonic character breastfeeding in this book?

I'm here to answer those questions as best I can, and in agonizing detail.

First, for those just tuning in to this decades-long saga or those who maybe don't know the full story, here's a refresher on the background info.

"What the hell is this?"

The Lara-Su Chronicles is Ken Penders' long-dreaded long-awaited continuation of his 1994-2006 run on Archie Sonic, ignoring everything written after he left by other writers like Ian Flynn. In particular, it picks up from the cliffhanger ending of the 2003-2004 arc "Mobius: 25 Years Later," which was set in what Ken considers the definitive canonical future of the series. It stars Knuckles' daughter from that future era, Lara-Su, among other new and returning characters. The project was first announced near the start of Ken's legal battle with Archie in 2011, and he's been posting WIP previews online for about a decade. Now, after all this time, a Lara-Su Chronicles book finally exists.

We'll get to the actual contents of that book in a bit.

"He can do that without getting in trouble with Sega?"

Believe it or not, yes, he can.

Thanks to the outcome of Archie Comics' woefully mismanaged lawsuits against Ken (yes, they sued him after he started filing for copyrights, not the other way around), he now has full legal ownership of every story he wrote for Archie Sonic and every character he created for the series. This was explicitly granted to him in the terms of the settlement between him and Archie (acting on behalf of Sega). He can even reprint his old Sonic material as-is to his heart's content. The main catch is just that he can't write new stories featuring Sega characters or trademarks, and his new stories also have to be distinct from Sonic at a glance to avoid confusing readers. As such, reprints can't use Sonic iconography on the cover, a few Sega characters (mainly Knuckles) have been renamed and slightly redesigned in the new stories, and the art style has been changed to less closely resemble Sonic. But otherwise, he can do whatever he wants with his own characters.

All of this is because Archie lost the original copy of Ken's work-for-hire contract that signed over the rights to his work. Without that (or any alternative that was considered permissible in court), his comics and characters are the property of their creator by default. Yes, those old comics are full of Sega stuff, but Sega doesn't automatically own the copyright for every drawing of Sonic in existence. And Sega put their stamp of approval all over those comics and let them get sold at retail for decades, even though (in the eyes of the court) there was no legal paperwork granting them ownership of any of it. It's almost like they were unwittingly distributing a fan comic for years and declaring it a fair use of their property, and now there's no takesies backsies. It's a strange and unique copyright situation. Again, they worked all this out in the settlement. And, yes, fans have long speculated that Ken stole and destroyed his own contract to regain the rights to his work, but frankly Archie was so incompetent throughout the lawsuit (it went so bad that they had to fire and replace their lawyers midway through) that I completely buy the idea of them just losing important legal documents.

Also, in case it needs to be spelled out: while Ken's a weirdo, it's ultimately a good thing for creatives everywhere that Archie lost their lawsuit against Ken. We do not want to live in a world where corporations can claim ownership of peoples' work without the contracts to back it up. That would be an incredibly dangerous legal precedent to set. And more comic creators, and artists in general, should own their own work! Corporations are not your friend! They'll delete your work for a tax write-off in a heartbeat! It's just bewildering that this guy, of all people, was the creator who ended up successfully getting his shit back, and that this is what he's doing with it.

"What about his old collaborators? Are they involved? Is he paying them?"

Ken is mostly doing The Lara-Su Chronicles solo, though he has, in fact, talked about compensating the artists involved in any material he's reprinting. The ones who give enough of a shit to get paid for a small scale reprint of something they did 20 years ago, anyway.

On the subject of his collaborators, it's also worth pointing out that Ken's wasn't the only contract that was lost. Most of the early Archie Sonic writers from before Ian Flynn's time seem to be in the same boat as Ken, with the ownership of their stories and characters defaulting back to them. Again, Archie fucked up big time. But like I said, most of them don't really seem to give a shit. For most of them, Sonic was just a random temporary gig they took to pay the bills while Marvel was busy going bankrupt in the '90s, not the thing that defined their entire careers.

The only other Archie Sonic contributor who's tried to do anything on the level of what Ken is doing was writer and editor Scott Fulop. In 2016 he attempted to sue Archie for the unauthorized use of what are now retroactively considered his copyrighted characters and stories, and he even announced a standalone comic about his most famous Sonic character, the recurring villain Mammoth Mogul (sort of a pastiche of DC's Vandal Savage and Marvel's Kingpin, with wizard powers added for spice). However, Fulop lost his lawsuit because he didn't put together a particularly compelling case. Since then he seems to have wiped all traces of his ill-advised Mammoth Mogul comic and his company, Narrative Ark Entertainment, from the internet. For now, this leaves The Lara-Su Chronicles the only project of its kind.

"What about those other Archie Sonic reprints he just announced?"

At the time of writing, Ken is once again claiming that he's trying to get the band back together to reprint all of Archie Sonic, now under the bad new banner "Floating Island Productions: MOBIAN LINE" that I can't imagine he consulted literally anyone else on.

So, like, look. As we've established, Ken can reprint his own stories. And if he can work something out with the other contributors whose contracts were lost, he can print their work, too. But there is no fucking way he's getting his hands on Ian Flynn's run, which Sega undoubtedly holds the copyright for. Even if they don't, Ian needs to maintain a good working relationship with both Sega and IDW if he's to keep his job, so he'd never go for this. Not to mention that Ian and Ken just... don't get along! Ken's whole plan here seems to be predicated on IDW going out of business (a thing he REALLY wants to happen) and freeing up the Sonic comic license, after which he knocks on Sega's door and goes "hey I've still got dirt on you guys," blackmailing them into giving him the Sonic license back so that he can reprint the later comics. Every step of this plan is ludicrous. It's never gonna happen.

He's been saying he wants to reprint the whole series for a few years now, though. This isn't really anything new. And despite his lofty plans that set Sonic Twitter ablaze, he quickly backpedaled. The only specific things in the works right now are a "two-volume omnibus" of all of his Knuckles stories and a collection of artist Scott Shaw's work on the very early Archie Sonic issues, since they're on good terms with each other. I have no idea how Ken plans on packaging these when he can't put any Sega characters or the Freedom Fighters on the covers, but these projects are small enough in scale that there's a decent chance they'll see the light of day. Scott Shaw only did like five issues. But anything beyond that? I'll believe it when I see it.

Or, y'know, this could've all just been a publicity stunt for his new book. I wouldn't put it past him. Let's just focus on the book that actually exists.

"So he finally did it? He made a whole Lara-Su book? It's out? He finished it??"

Yes and no.

The book that's out now is The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings, a prologue for the series of seven graphic novels Ken somehow plans on making, even though it's taken him 13 years to put out literally anything new. I don't know whether or not this counts as book one of seven, because it only features 30 pages of new comics. 30.5 if I'm being generous.

Most of the book is actually just a reprint of his infamous Archie Sonic storyline "Mobius: 25 Years Later", which ran from issue #131 to #144 in 2003-2004. (Again, yes, he can reprint this, he just can't put Sonic on the cover.) Why's it infamous? Well, Ken had been building anticipation for this future era of the series for basically his entire run. We kept seeing King Sonic and Queen Sally from the future. Knuckles' entire backstory hinges on his dad having a vision of this future. Several years before Silver the Hedgehog was created, it was Lara-Su who was Sonic's equivalent to Future Trunks, the cool-looking child of one of the main characters who traveled back in time to try and prevent a dark future. Believe it or not, yes, there was hype for Lara-Su. And then we finally got M25YL, and none of that cool stuff happened. Instead it really ended up being about how unbearably boring the middle aged Sonic, Knuckles, Sally, and co. are in this peaceful future where Robotnik is dead and they're all married with kids, forced into traditional nuclear family gender roles. Lara-Su is present, but she mostly just does generic teen girl stuff and complains about how Knuckles won't let her do anything even though she REALLY wants to be the new Guardian of Angel Island, like, super bad! Come on, dad!!!

In its original printing, this meandering arc ended on an abrupt time travel cliffhanger that Ken was never able to follow up on before he left Archie in 2006. This new printing slightly changes that ending, using the unresolved timey-wimey shenanigans as a convenient excuse to alter the entire timeline. This creates the slightly different world of The Lara-Su Chronicles, where the few relevant Sega-owned characters have been replaced and everyone is ten times uglier.

After this, we finally get two short new stories picking up where M25YL left off: "The Storm," starring Acorn Kingdom super-spy and known creep Geoffrey St. John, and an early release of the first chapter of The Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows, the first full TLSC graphic novel.

And now that we're all on the same page about what we're looking at, let's actually talk about the book!

The cover

Let's start by beating a dead horse. The cover art: it's still bad! But why is it bad?

The cover is, of course, based on Patrick Spaziante's cover from Archie Sonic #131, the start of the "Mobius: 25 Years Later" arc. (Ken did the layout for that cover, though, so in the eyes of the law he's the original creator who owns that cover.) That cover was, itself, a tribute to the iconic cover of Giant-Size X-Men #1 by Gil Kane and Dave Cockrum, the issue that introduced the version of the team with Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler, etc.

Ken seems to have forgotten that the point of both these covers was to hype up the arrival of a new cast of characters. The new guys are supposed to make a dramatic entrance front and center. That's the focal point. Meanwhile, the cover for Beginnings has the old timeline versions of the cast from Archie Sonic dramatically bursting out of a shattered crystal ball, while their new counterparts look on in mild bemusement - if they're even bothering to look at all, since most of the characters here are just copied and pasted from their profile pages. That's just not how you do this particular homage! The point is supposed to be "out with the old, in with the new." And why are they using a crystal ball to view the past? Hell, why are they even using a crystal ball at all? The original arc was presented as a magical vision of the future courtesy of Tails' uncle Merlin (don't ask), but the new story leans all the way into being futuristic sci-fi.

Of course, there is no real artistic intent at play here. The old versions of the characters are placed front and center in the crystal ball simply because Ken traced over Spaziante's original art of Lara-Su and Julie-Su (the only two characters on the Sonic cover he owns) and threw out the rest, ruining the composition in the process. Look at the awkward empty space where Sonic, Sally, and Rotor once were, and the new drawing of The Character Formerly Known As Knuckles who's no longer properly centered between his wife and daughter. Even if Ken can claim ownership of the cover because he did the original layout, this all just feels scummy and lame.

And, yeah, if it needs to be said, the new characters and Ken's new rendering style look like absolute fucking dogshit. Putting new Lara-Su directly next to old Lara-Su does her no favors. The shattered glass effect looks absolutely atrocious. I could go on, but we'll have plenty of time to talk about the art style when we see how bad the stories inside look.

Changes to "Mobius: 25 Years Later"

Overall, 99% of M25YL is presented identically to its original printing. Sonic, Sally, Knuckles, et al. are still present with no changes to their names and no tweaks to the art. Even the original cover for issue #131 is included only a few pages into this book with its Archie, Sonic, and Sega logos still intact and everything. Again, because of the weird copyright situation described above, these preexisting comics can be released without any changes.

There is exactly one bizarre change to the art, though, where a hand drawn shot of Angel Island is replaced with an unfitting photo background and the ugly Floating Island photobash that Ken has been using as his personal logo for decades. I think he only did this as part of a test for his motion comic app that nobody asked for. I don't know why this had to make it into the print version. It's like the book is firing a warning shot for what's to come if you keep reading.

The new content begins on the final page of M25YL. In the original wet fart of a cliffhanger ending, Sonic and co. accidentally alter the timeline with an old time machine of Robotnik's and Lara-Su begins to fade away. Then, after everything goes white, we just cut to the present day heroes going "gee, you ever think about the future?" In this new printing, that last bit has been cut, and the rest of the page has been awkwardly shrunk down so that Ken can fit in a new panel. We now see the hands of an off-screen villain, seemingly named "Override," proclaiming that "the Praetorian" (Knuckles) has messed up the timeline again and that they'll finally get their revenge.

Who is this Override? I have no fucking clue. The new stories in this book make no mention of them. You have to buy the next book to find out.

My confusion over the identity of this villain overlaps with another big problem: name changes. So many names and nouns have been arbitrarily changed in The Lara-Su Chronicles, even ones Ken didn't have to change for copyright reasons, and I only know what half of them are replacing because Ken's been tweeting about this shit for years.

The echidnas are now a totally original alien race called "the Echyd'nya." Even in flashbacks to events from M25YL attempting to mimic the old art style, if it's on a new comic page, they're gonna call themselves "Echyd'nya." Evil echidna faction the Dark Legion is now the "Cyberdark Dominion," hailing from the "Cyberdark Colony." The Brotherhood of Guardians is still the Brotherhood of Guardians, but now the main guardian is called "The Praetorian." Angel Island is still called "The Floating Island," like it was in the older Archie comics, but it's ALSO sometimes called "Avion"? When I read this I wasn't sure if he had randomly renamed Albion, the other echidna city from the Archie comics. But no. Now we have an Albion AND an Avion. Sally is mentioned simply as "Princess Acorn," while Sonic is referenced once as an unnamed "blue-spined Erinaceinae," using the scientific name for hedgehog to make it sound more sci-fi. In an incredibly ballsy move, Ken even mentions Robotnik as "the Insurrectionist Kintobor," retaining his original surname from the Archie comics that's just "Robotnik" backwards. Guess Sega never trademarked that one.

Aside from every name change being a downgrade, this leads to confusion when you're not sure if something is supposed to be new, or if it's just an Archie thing you're supposed to recognize despite having a new name and design. Is "Override" someone I'm supposed to know already? Am I just supposed to have read a fucking tweet from Ken where he said he changed the name of some existing villain to "Override"? The answer is no, but I had to term search his Twitter just to verify this.

Moving on!

New story #1: "The Storm"

If you've been following the WIPs, this is that story about Geoffrey St. John that Ken's been posting previews of for almost a decade. The title page copyright dates it to 2015, and that absurdly long gestation is probably why the art is so inconsistent here. Even the style of speech bubbles and the font change between pages two and three.

This is a problem when there's supposed to be a deliberate and noticeable change in art style here signaling the moment where the time travel stuff alters the timeline, replacing the Archie Sonic world with the Lara-Su Chronicles world. If you don't already know that's what's going on, the idea isn't conveyed clearly at all. It just goes from one hideous art style to a slightly different one with no explanation.

The main problem here is that Ken has hitched his wagon to a franchise about anthropomorphic animals when he can't draw furries to save his life. (Though a bit later in the book we'll also begin to wonder if he can even still draw humans.) He's shifted away from the cartooniness of the original designs and given them more human proportions and facial features, but this just ends up making them look incredibly uncanny and lumpy and gross. With some designs he's trying to lean into more of a Star Trek alien vibe, but then he still insists upon retaining the giant Sonic eyes on most characters even though he has no idea how to make them emote.

The rendering of these godawful designs doesn't do them any favors, either. Ken's going for more of a painterly look now, but it almost seems as though he's shading everything with Photoshop's burn and dodge tools that are designed to darken and lighten select areas of a photo. The result is a muddy, smudgy look that makes it feel like the color layer has been smeared in vaseline. And it only looks worse after coming off of 14 chapters of M25YL that have way more palatable art.

The backgrounds, too, are a complete mess, a jumble of low res jpeg photo elements (sometimes with extremely noticeable pixelation), stock textures, and smooth digital gradients. There's no real sense of place here, and it gives everything a surreal, dreamlike quality when you can't really tell where anything is supposed to take place. This first story is seemingly set in a high-tech stronghold below Castle Acorn called "the Bunker," but it could just as easily be confused for the bridge of a spaceship. This whole story features characters speaking to each other over floating video displays and hologram projectors from three different locations, but without a hologram effect and without a clear sense of where the characters are it often feels like they're just in the same room as each other. Characters will be in one location on one photo background, and then the camera angle changes and they're in a completely different place, because Ken just uses mismatched photos off of the internet. It's been like 25 years since he first tried using photo backgrounds in the Archie comics and he hasn't gotten any better at it.

When I had my boyfriend read the book to see if it made literally any sense to him (it didn't), Anthony said this: "This is the kind of shit I'd see linked on a Second Life world that hasn't been touched since 2004." I think he really hit the nail on the head. Now, there's actually a contrarian part of me that thinks that might theoretically almost be kind of cool, in sort of a messy counterculture way. I love weird indie shit. I was a Homestuck reader! But this isn't a scrappy mixed media zine, or experimental outsider art from someone just messing around with Photoshop, or a loving throwback to weird old internet art, or even something intentionally bizarre and offputting like Xavier: Renegade Angel or a PilotRedSun video or whatever where the fact that it's weird and ugly is part of the humor. This is supposed to be a sincere sci-fi epic drawing on Star Trek and Jack Kirby comics, made by a guy who's been drawing comics professionally since the '80s. This is supposed to look good. This is supposed to compete with mainstream comics that are on sale right now. He thinks any day now IDW's gonna go out of business and Sega will come crawling back to him so that he can stamp the Sonic logo on shit like this. It just doesn't work.

But, okay. It's ugly. We knew it would be ugly. But that ugliness would be much easier to accept if it was in service of an otherwise genuinely good story. So what about the writing? After all this time, how does Ken choose to kick off this new saga? Well, credit where credit's due. "The Storm" feels like a proper continuation of Ken's writing style from M25YL.

Because it's eleven pages of characters standing around and talking while nothing fucking happens.

Here's the synopsis: A dog woman named Brownie, an ensign in the Royal Secret Service fresh out of training and the only character who's almost cute, walks up to Geoffrey to deliver a report. He's immediately suspicious of her, asking who let her in and if she's a spy for Elias (Sally's brother, if you're new here) or Alicia (Sally's mom). The art style suddenly shifts when the timeline is altered, but the scene continues uninterrupted. Geoffrey points a gun at Brownie when she won't say whose spy she is. Geoffrey is distracted by a call and proceeds to have a conversation via a mix of holograms and video screens with Remington (head of Echidnaopolis security), Spectre (Knuckles' great great great great great grandpa, the one with the helmet who always looks evil), and a new scientist character named Dr. Zephyr/Zephur. (The spelling of this character's name changes multiple times throughout the 11-page story, because I guess nine years wasn't enough time to spellcheck this shit.) They say a bunch of made up technobabble nonsense about how it looks like the timeline was just altered and Knuckles and co. seem to be involved. It's complete drivel that I'm not even going to try to make sense of. Everyone decides to investigate further, and the conversation ends. Brownie tells Geoffrey she's his spy, then walks out and implies she's actually Alicia's spy in her inner monologue.

To be continued!!!

Yes, that's it. It's really just a bunch of technobabble where some characters talk about how it seems like the timeline has been fucked with. That's it. The whole time Geoffrey doesn't even get up out of his damn chair, which he's of course sitting in backwards to show how cool he is. It's just 11 pages of Geoffrey sitting in a chair and talking to people and looking uglier than he's ever looked. Nothing happens. Nine years for this.

I'm also struck by how meaningless all of this is to anyone who hasn't read Archie Sonic. The added context from M25YL may help a little, but "The Storm" focuses on characters who weren't in that arc, and the story does very little to introduce who any of them are. Brownie could've been super useful as an inexperienced point of view character who's only meeting the others for the first time here, but instead she's really just a passive observer who's here as part of some kind of 4D chess game between Geoffrey and Alicia, an off-screen character whose motivations in this era of the story are completely unknown to even returning readers. Who are the good guys and bad guys here? What are the conflicts and the stakes of the story moving forward? What do these characters want? Basic questions like this aren't really answered. I can't imagine a new reader being able to make heads or tails of this. Hell, I can't really imagine a returning reader who hasn't been following the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets about this story making heads or tails of it, either.

...Maybe more will happen in the next story?

New story #2: Shattered Tomorrows preview chapter

After another message from Ken, the story of The Lara-Su Chronicles proper begins with the redesigned Lara-Su walking along a jpeg photograph beach at sunset and crying while thinking about how Knuckles - sorry, his name is K'Nox now - is dead.

Yep! Straight into the dad stuff!

Look, I'm the last person to complain about writers getting super personal and drawing from their own baggage in their writing, but Ken's just no fucking good at it. There's no nuance, nothing interesting to say. He just keeps writing mediocre-to-horrible dads whose misdeeds are always justified by their "good intentions," and then sometimes they die and their kids are like "we may have fought but actually you were the bestest dad ever and I'll miss you forever, I'll never be able to fill your shoes!"

This is the only part of the new material here that feels like it has any heart behind it, because I know how much his complex relationship with his late deadbeat father means to Ken (there's an author's note in this outright saying as much). But the guy died 42 years ago, and it doesn't feel like Ken has had any new thoughts about this part of his life in those four decades. He's just not an introspective or self-aware enough artist to actually mine his personal baggage for anything beyond "father knows best."

Anyway, so then it jumps forward in time(?) and now we're following this human guy who looks like this.

Previously, Ken got a lot of shit for literally just using the likeness of Anthony Mackie for this guy, based on his IMDB profile photo. Ken has thus redesigned the character... and by that I mean I think he looks more like Ernie Hudson now? Ken's clearly just working off of photo references (if not straight up tracing), given his face is the most detailed and realistic-looking thing on any page where he's present.

But you may be wondering: who is this, and why is he here? Well, for one, he's here to run around in front of some low res space photos while making trite references to things like Planet of the Apes and Star Trek. Haha, he makes a joke about red shirts! Original!! But beyond that, Commander Mykhal Taelor (yes, that's really how he chose to spell it) is a human... from Earth! Archie Sonic readers are probably confused, because in those comics Mobius is Earth in the distant post-apocalyptic future. Well, despite being a Planet of the Apes fan, Ken always hated that particular worldbuilding decision from Karl Bollers, always preferring to think of Mobius as a separate alien planet. And now he gets to make that canon in his own stories and throw out Karl's ideas. So Mobius is basically just, like, a Star Trek planet now, with its own alien creatures that sometimes just so happen to look like anthropomorphic Earth animals.

Also, at one point Taelor wonders if the inhabitants of the dead Mobius might have been human, and the alien ally he's talking to over the radio says it's unlikely. "I don't understand why your kind has a problem understanding you're a minority within a minority." Perhaps poor wording for a line said to the only Black character in the story.

Anyway, Commander Taelor here seems to have discovered the uninhabited husk of Mobius after the vague time-space cataclysm everyone was worried about in M25YL has come to pass, and he finds an audio log from Lara-Su that I presume will explain what happened. I guess those are the titular Lara-Su Chronicles. In theory this flash forward establishes some sense of pressing danger, but when the threat to the planet is so unclear and technobabble-y it just kind of lands with a thud.

It doesn't take long before we get back to Lara-Su being sad about her dad. A good little chunk of the chapter is spent with this new timeline's Lara-Su recalling moments in her life, including echoes of the original Lara-Su's memories from M25YL, which feels redundant coming hot off the heels of a straight reprint of that entire arc. And boy, for anyone who read the later Archie Sonic comics, the protagonist having vague memories of the old version of the series from before a lawsuit-related timeline reboot sure does sound familiar, huh?

The art inconsistency somehow becomes even worse in this story, with Ken flip-flopping on whether or not he wants to use outlines, with the no-outline art managing to look even worse by relying entirely on Ken's awful rendering. By this point in the book, readers are also likely to start noticing how often Ken reuses art from previous panels. This is a shortcut that tons of comic artists use, of course. Invincible famously did a joke about this. It's often understandable. But, again... it sure does stand out in a book that took 13 years to make with only 30 pages of new art. Amusingly, Ken even manages to combine his inconsistency and recycling problems by reusing the same art with and without outlines. And, of course, any time Ken tries to draw the Archie era designs it's just... the worst.

And, yes, it's in this dreamlike montage sequence of Lara-Su's life that we get...

The uncomfortable family nudity scene, followed by the dual timeline Julie-Su breastfeeding scene.

Yeah, you might have heard about this one already. If this incredibly eerie presentation of Lara-Su's hazy memories of the two different timelines make it hard to tell what's going on, don't worry. There's another, clearer version later in the book as part of Julie-Su's character profile, because I guess Ken was just so proud of it.

(I censored these myself because I'm not playing Russian roulette with Tumblr's inconsistent nudity rules and risking getting banned lmao)

Like, okay. Is a mother breastfeeding her child really that shocking of a thing to see in a story? No, not at all. But, like... when it's two characters who you previously created for an officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comic for 7-year-olds... and some of those officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comics for 7-year-olds are reprinted in the same book... and when it's drawn like this... yeah, it's kind of a shocker.

It just looks so unnatural. Julie-Su is posed very deliberately so that you'll see both of her breasts, and in the new timeline version she's barely even holding Lara-Su so you can really get a good look at her supermodel body, showing zero physical signs that she just gave birth. Most people will immediately jump to this being Ken putting his fetishes in his work (a type of criticism that I'm incredibly tired of - it's 2024, all the cool artists are blatantly putting their fetishes in their work now). And my immediate response is that, no, this is probably just Ken trying to come off as really mature on a surface level, a thing he's been obsessed with since the Archie days. Free from the shackles of writing a licensed children's comic, of course he's going to jump immediately into depicting some nonsexual, artistic nudity to try and prove he's A Real Mature Artist For Grown-Ups who just thinks the human body is beautiful and breastfeeding shouldn't be a taboo etc. etc.

But then, like. You look at some of the other character designs. Like Espio's daughter Salma, who's now this horrifying alien lizard person who's always nude, and her scale pattern puts scales exactly where her nipples should be. Or you look at his comments about the Echyd'nya age of consent. Or you look at how he keeps drawing Lara-Su in this. Like, does the shuttle really need this, like... reverse chaise lounge thing in the cockpit? So that we can keep getting these shots of the 16-year-old Lara-Su lying on her stomach and posing with one of her legs kicked up, her naked ass in plain view?

The vibe isn't great, is what I'm saying!

I'm not going to try to ascribe authorial intent here. I don't know. I'm not a psychic. Given his very blatant reliance on photo references elsewhere in the book, it's entirely possible he just referenced some figure drawing photos that were maybe just a little too sexy. And also, he's an American comic book artist, and a boomer one at that. Those guys tend to draw women a certain way, even when it's not supposed to be sexual. I don't fucking know. It just sucks. I'm not gonna make some hyperbolic statement about how this makes him a literal pedophile who should be in jail, but it is deeply offputting and objectifying.

But if you already knew about the nursing scenes and were hoping there was some other really shocking stuff in there for me to talk about in this review, sorry to disappoint, but nope. That's the only shockingly weird new thing in here. Once again, not a lot happens in this story, and what does happen is pretty boring.

Once we get past the recap stuff and the human guy, the plot developments boil down to this: The timeline was altered at the end of M25YL... but not as much as you might think. In the new timeline, Knuckles ("K'Nox"), Cobar (now looking significantly younger), and Rotor (now a rhino just called "The Emissary") still traveled via shuttle to go find a time machine in the Badlands and fix the time-space continuum, like in the climax of the original arc. This time, though, Sonic wasn't there, and Lara-Su came along without having to stow away. Lara-Su watches the ship while the grown ups go deal with the time machine, and then after a couple panels Not Rotor comes back with Cobar and is like "Hey, Cobar got hurt, we gotta leave. Dunno what happened to your dad." And then they just, like. Presume that Knuckles must have died. Even though we have no idea what happened to him. And then they just fly away. And then Lara-Su is sad that her dad died.

And that's pretty much it!

This is supposed to be a really emotional sequence - it's literally the scene where Lara-Su learns that Knuckles is dead - but instead it comes off as unintentionally funny because of how poorly it's portrayed. Not showing Knuckles' actual disappearance is a huge misstep, for one, making his uncertain fate more confusing and anticlimactic than dramatic. But also, Ken keeps just using the same two drawings of Rotor for two pages, so he doesn't really seem to be emoting at all, and he's in this spacey hazmat suit that honestly just makes him look like fucking Moltar from Space Ghost. So the whole time I'm just reading his dialogue in Moltar's deadpan voice as he's like "I dunno. We did what we could. Anyway, let's leave."

After this, we get a two-page spread previewing the rest of the story from Shattered Tomorrows. It's basically like a trailer in comic form. It has one of the most mystifying layouts I've ever seen in a comic book. I have no idea what order I'm supposed to read this in.

Yeah, I kinda have a feeling this is the full extent of what Ken has drawn for the rest of that book. I'd love to be wrong, but I fear that I'm right.

Bonus material: Data files

These are mostly very dull, recapping a lot of events shared between Ken's Archie run and the new Lara-Su Chronicles timeline. It seems like almost his entire run is still considered canon to the backstory of the new timeline, just with some names changed, and things only really diverge at the climax of M25YL. But I'll share the interesting stuff here.

Lara-Su

The main thing you'll notice in Lara-Su's profile is the massive, unreadable wall of text where Ken felt the need to list the entire Knuckles family tree, split across both pages.

This is literally so long that Lara-Su's personal history has to awkwardly cut off mid-sentence and be continued on the final page of the book, after the rest of the data files.

Also, please note that this list gives Julie-Su's mom's full name as Mari-Su of the House of Atrades. Incredible on all levels.

There's also a reference to the dark timeline Lara-Su was originally supposed to come from. You know, the one where Julie-Su is the leader of a rebel movement fighting against a Knuckles who had gone mad with power? The timeline that would have been way more interesting than the one in M25YL? Here it seems to have been written off as the result of another "timeline disruption." Lara-Su allegedly has vague memories of this timeline, in the same way that she has vague memories of the M25YL timeline.

Geoffrey

Geoffrey's bio mostly recaps events from the Archie comics, which means the Sonic/Sally/Geoffrey love triangle has to be alluded to. His rivalry with Sonic is described like this:

"He would later resurface when Kintobor was transporting his latest hi-tech weapon, the Dynamac-3000. It was during that mission he discovered a rival for the Princess' affections. Whereas the Princess would be one of a line of conquests where St. John was concerned, the blue-spined Erinaceinae who protested doth a bit too much regarding his affections for the Princess for St. John's taste would prove to be a source of great sport and amusement."

Yes. It's gross. Saying that Geoffrey saw Sally as "one of a line of conquests" is gross. Ken writing this and then still treating Geoffrey as the coolest badass ever is gross. The "Princess Acorn" is also first on the list of Geoffrey's "female relationships" elsewhere in his bio, though I suppose how much of a "relationship" they had is left vague. Honestly, at this point the fact that Ken didn't explicitly confirm that Geoffrey took the underage Sally's virginity in the book comes off as a display of restraint. The bar couldn't be any lower, I know.

Remington

His bio is, frankly, shockingly long for such a minor character, though I guess he does get a large portion of the word salad dialogue in "The Storm." There's a lot of stuff here about how the identities of his biological parents are shrouded in mystery, a plot point that fans have long speculated Ken just straight up forgot about in his time at Archie. (Ian confirmed that Kragok from the Dark Legion was Remington's dad, though, so this isn't really much of a mystery.)

Lien-Da

She gets a bio even though she's not present in the two new stories, just so we get to look at her awful new design and compare it to how Steven Butler drew her earlier in the book:

Commander Taelor

We get to see two drawings of him with the same exact Ernie Hudson face side by side! That's fun.

Julie-Su

She gets a list of "known friends," but the only character listed is Knuckles' mom. Poor Julie-Su.

Also, Ken feels the need to reiterate that Knuckles and Julie-Su are still distant cousins. He made a whole new timeline where he can change whatever details he wants, but THAT had to remain canon. Thanks, Ken.

And then after the data files we get the special thanks page, listing everyone who preordered the book and/or bought TLSC merch from Ken.

With my name on the list. Because I had to buy a copy to cover it for the blog.

My name is on the very next page right after the breastfeeding panel in Julie-Su's data file.

Yep. He got me.

Is it at least a well put together book? Like, in terms of manufacturing quality?

Its physical quality is... fine. It's a nice, sturdy hardcover. The print quality seems fine, though mine does have a bit of smudging from some sort of printing error on one page. The pages don't seem like they'll fall out on me. The image quality is crisp. The colors are vibrant. This is a low bar, but this is one of the few places where I'm able to give this book anything resembling praise.

The formatting and graphic design work, on the other hand...

(I didn't crumple those page corners, it came like that.)

For one, the placement and sizes of the M25YL pages is inconsistent, largely due to the fact that the book doesn't actually match the proportions of a comic. A lot of pages aren't properly centered vertically. Some pages go all the way up to the top edge of the paper, while others leave a visible gap of about half a centimeter. Every page has a 1cm gap to its left and right, which is sometimes filled in with a solid color or gradient that doesn't quite match the page it's surrounding. I have to assume Ken didn't have any sort of source files or original artwork to work off of, as those ideally would've had more generous bleed to account for slight shifts in printing. It kind of seems like he just got the highest resolution versions he could find of the digital releases online and printed those. The colors are a dead ringer for the digital versions, which have always looked slightly more saturated and pastel than they did in print.

I can't say this bodes well for his further plans for Archie Sonic reprints - sorry, Mobian Line reprints. If they ever come out, please, for the love of god, do not buy those. I don't care how much you love Archie Sonic, they aren't going to be good reprints. For comparison, IDW's similarly priced hardcover Sonic collections have none of these formatting problems, because they're made by people who know what they're doing with access to the actual source files.

The book also has its fair share of text-focused pages, split between the data files and messages directly from Ken about the history of his career and this project, and these are formatted in the most amateurish way possible. Just massive walls of Arial text over either plain white backgrounds, simple gradients, or faded photos. I've seen school yearbooks with better graphic design. Even ignoring my subjective feelings about the art and stories within, this book does not feel like it's worth $36 USD.

It's frankly shocking how shabby he let this thing look considering it's supposed to be his baby. And doesn't that really sum it all up?

Closing thoughts

Obviously, I did not expect this to be any good. But I'm still left kind of dumbfounded by it.

I think what really strikes me about it is that Ken had a blank check to do whatever he wanted here. He got an opportunity many writers would kill for when he gained complete ownership of his most famous work. He's free from the limitations of a monthly licensed comic book for children, free to make whatever creative decisions he wants without editors or other writers or Sega to worry about, free to completely reinvent the series to his heart's content and finally tell the story of his dreams. And with that opportunity and 13 years of his time, he made... this. A direct continuation of "Mobius: 25 Years Later" that barely changes anything about the characters or world beyond their awful new designs, even though much of the word count is spent rambling about how the timeline has changed. A story that makes zero concessions for new readers, or even returning readers who don't already have the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets explaining his creative decisions burned into their memory. 30 pages where nothing really happens and the story barely moves forward an inch despite the decades-long wait - but maybe something will happen if you buy the next book!

Who is this for? Maybe this really is a project for no one but Ken. Maybe he just really, really wants to finish the story he started, a story that's personal to him due to the family history it evokes, and the number of people who enjoy it or buy it beyond that is irrelevant. I think that many of the best artists are incredibly self-indulgent ones working with that exact mindset, artists whose enthusiasm for their own work jumps off the page or screen. So, if that's the case, then why the fuck isn't he telling the damn story? What's stopping him? Why is he still spinning his wheels? Where is that passion for his own work? Because it sure as hell isn't there on the page. There's a huge part of me that really wishes I could say "Man, what a weirdo, but you do you, Ken. You tell your weird little story." But there's barely any story here. It's like he loves styling himself as a storyteller, but he's terrified of finally having to actually tell a story after all this time. He's still stuck in the exact same mode of writing he was in almost 30 years ago when he was doing 6-page backup stories about Knuckles, just killing time and stringing readers along until he's eventually able to truly realize his vision. If not now, then when, Ken?

Even the back cover blurb is mostly just a dry recap of the history of this thing. It was a Sonic comic, the original arc was published in these issues, it went unfinished, Ken left Archie, the lawsuits happened, now he's continuing the story. There's nothing about why anyone should give a shit about this as its own story, even though Ken has spent years trying in vain to convince people TLSC is its own beast that shouldn't be judged as a Sonic story. I think deep down he knows that there's no pitch for this beyond the novelty of it originating from Sonic. And that's why, despite declaring that he'd leave the site, he's still on Twitter riling up Sonic fans. It's the only attention he gets at this point.

Maybe this is too harsh when those 30 pages of new comics are just intended as a preview for the "real" book. But the elephant in the room is that we have no idea if that "real" book will ever actually come out, let alone the entire series of seven graphic novels that will supposedly complete this saga.

Ken is undeniably a complete jackass and all around unpleasant, vindictive person who's rightly become an industry pariah. He's a self-proclaimed paragon of progressive values who'll send Comicsgaters after his successors for the crime of not worshiping the ground he walks on, and then turn around and announce he's going to reprint their work without even consulting them. He's a sore winner who already won his copyright battle on a level most comic writers would never dare to dream of, and yet still won't truly be satisfied until he sees an entire major comic publisher go out of business, putting god knows how many people out of work, because he thinks this would get him back the license to a video game franchise he doesn't even like.

But I still have to pity him.

As an artist, the trajectory of his life is my nightmare. I think all of us fear dying before we can tell all the stories we want to tell. There's simply never enough time to do everything. And here's Ken in his 60s, talking about how he's still planning on making his magnum opus all by himself out of stubbornness and pride, despite demonstrably proving he can't handle the workload, and also talking about how if he dies before the project can be finished he'll have to pass the torch on to his kids and get them to finish it for him. It's so grim. Even just typing that sends a shiver down my spine. It took nine years of his limited time on Earth to finish and release an 11-page comic about Geoffrey St. John sitting backwards in a chair.

This is a purgatory of his own creation. And yet... I'm not sure he's ever been prouder. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

I guess if I want people to take anything away from this review, it's this:

Lesson one: If you're an artist or writer of some kind, or an aspiring creator, don't wait around. No one else is going to tell your story for you. Start writing that novel. Start drawing that webcomic. Start making that game. If Penders can put out this damn book that no one asked for after 13 years of work, then proudly proclaim that he's still going to make six or seven more books and also reprint hundreds of comics he doesn't have all of the rights to, then show up to cons with that foul Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows banner and sit in front of it beaming with pride, fully aware of his critics but saying "fuck 'em, I know I'm hot shit," then you can do fucking anything. Tell the weird, sincere, cringe story of your dreams. If Ken Penders doesn't have imposter syndrome, then nobody should.

And lesson two: Don't buy Ken's books.

#tkp post #tlsc #tlsc beginnings

6K notes · View notes

sweetnans · 1 month

Text

Katsuki had a sixth sense when you were mad. It was like a struck on his head that evolved in being the biggest clown of all. He actually enjoyed riling you up so when you have your back turned to him with your shoulder stiff, He knows he has a job to do.

"Bad day at work, Princess?" He says using your given nickname when you aren't in the mood.

"Shut up, Katsuki," you say, cutting the onions with precision

Ok, ground control done. You called him Katsuki so you are mad but not extremely mad.

"Oh baby, what did I do?" His sultry voice coming from behind, his hands starting to press onto your lower back.

"You know exactly what you did, now back the hell off. I have a knife in my hand, " you warn.

Katsuki smirks carefully, making sure that you don't see him. If you see him enjoying himself at your expenses, he's done for good.

"Are you mad?" He asks the obvious. His hands going up from your hips to your ribcage right under your breasts, his breath fanning above your neck and cleverage.

"I'm not mad, I'm pissed at you," you murmur, chopping the garlic and the bell peppers.

"Mm baby," he grunts in your ear, spreading kisses at your neck and behind your ear.

"Oh no, uh-uh." You wiggle your body from his grip. "Don't baby me"

You turn around to look at your boyfriend without leaving the knife in the counter table. He raises his hands in defense, quirking his brow at you.

The way your body looks tiny beside him is amusing. You can't stay mad at him for much longer, so you need to focus on the problem and not in his enormous and gorgeous body.

"Drop the knife sweets, you ain't hurting nobody, I'll do anything to make those lines in your face dissappear." he flicks his finger in your forehead and then leaves it there to dissipate your expression lines.

You know he's messing with you right now because he knows he did something wrong, and Katsuki learned a while ago that the solutions when he's the one who's guilty aren't spatting and bickering back at you. The solution is using his charm and handsy manners with you.

"Use your words, baby." The finger that was in your forehead traced a path down to your lips and to your neck, right above your neckline in between the beginning of your boobs.

You sigh because it's better than moaning. He's so annoying.

"Fucking fine" you mutter. "If you're going to drop your gauntlets in the entryway, leave them on the side, I almost fall today because I stumbled on them"

He can't help but cackle at the mental picture of that.

"Hey! It's not funny, you asshole. " You smack his big arm while he dodges you easily to engulf you and embrace you inside his big arms.

"Jeez, so squirmy," he says, keeping you still while he kisses the top of your head. "No more heavy gear on the entryway ma'am," he mumbles against your hair.

5K notes · View notes

screampied · 5 months

Text

‘ THAT [ GIRL ] IS MINE ! ,

ᡴꪫ sum. university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), booty call, unprotected, size kink, praise, fıngering, cunnılingus (toji eating it from the back), degredation, dumbification, toji's very whipped for you, overstim, squırting.

an. this is the last chapter WOOOOO. thank you to everyone who read dbf! toji. may he return somedayy

girl, are you fucking stupid?

a simple question you couldn’t answer as if your life depended on it. if only you knew the deep consequences you’d face by having some careless fun on spring break. oh, but it’s just a one time thing, it’s just a little fling that won’t mean anything once april’s over. you continue to keep reminding yourself that every time you were with him. toji fushiguro—your father’s sleazy best friend, the guy who was about eight years older than your twenty-two year old self, the guy who was shameless, the guy who literally fingered you underneath the table during dinner, same said guy who makes you clean off his fingers with your tongue like the good obedient girl you were.

maybe you are fucking stupid,

spring break was coming to its inevitable end, meaning it’d be the end of your little fling with mr. fushiguro. oh and you did get caught, your father knows— but let’s not focus on that part, let’s focus on the part on how you were questioning yourself. was this love or just a game? surely it couldn’t be love, ew. toji himself said that he can’t stand relationships. you yourself was too busy with being a studious university student to even consider a significant other. so… what exactly was this peculiar feeling? a good description was a weird stir in your stomach, especially whenever he’s lay his eyes on you. alas, maybe instead of love, the feeling was entirely different.

you know what they say about karma though, it always catches up to you in the long run. oops..?

it was about three thirty in the morning. you were tossing and turning in your sleep. birds could just about be heard outside your window, chirping and chirping away. with an exaggerated sigh, you stare into the beige drywall that coats against your ceiling for a long, long time. no matter how much you tried to delay the inevitable—you had to get up, you just had to get it off your chest.

you should probably not keep this yourself..

but you pondered deeply at what his reaction might be— would he feel the same way, or would he hate you and turn a cold eye … ?

just thinking about it for such a long duration of a time made your stomach churn. at the same time though, whenever you thought about toji for too long . . that happened. you’d get aroused, having your pretty little panties in a twist.

you still question just how your father and him even met. a guy like toji isn’t really a guy you’d stumble across everyday. he mentioned to you on how he was gambling at boat races—you believed that, but still, you always did wanna know more about him.

toji was a very private man though, nothing wrong with that.

you couldn’t help but be a little curious about the man you’ve been screwing with for the past thirteen days now. thirteen days felt more like thirteen long consecutive weeks. like most, your break was supposed to only last five days to a week. it only ended up getting extended because of some kind of altercation at your campus. albeit, you didn’t ever want it to end,

but all good things do come to an end, right?

reaching for your phone, you decide to text him— you didn’t exactly expect a reply despite it being so late but still, you unlock your phone before scrolling for his contact..

< 69 Toji Fushiguro 🎥 >

Today 3:27 AM

hi toji.

u up?

• • •

Yea. Just woke up actually. Why?

lol no reason, i can’t sleep.

i miss u and i need to tell you smth

Oh?

Fuck I miss ya too, girl.

Come over then. you still got my location?

yeah be there in a bit xx

Read 3:29

locking your phone again, you take a quick thorough six minute shower. toji missed you just as much as you missed him— it’s been about a day or two or three that’s passed, of course you two wouldn’t be able to see each other every day.

it was mostly every other day. with spring break coming to a crashing depressing end, this would all be the end of your little spring season fling.

damn.

the drive to toji’s apartment was about maybe nine minutes from you. not exactly far, you’d have him come over to yours but you forgot that your father was literally next door to you. he’s already aware of what was taken place at his own home but again, let’s not focus on that part of the story.

at least not yet.. or ever,

you threw on a simple ample outfit, one of your oversized university hoodies and some leggings. something homely, something comfortable.

the weather was actually pretty decent, a bit humid but not exactly too cold either.

once you arrive at toji’s surprisingly well kept apartment, he met up with you at the door with that same smug grin. “….hey,” is all he says, eyes staring down your body for a while. you take the chance to ogle at him too. even with it being the middle of the night, he still looked handsome. with dark black hair of his a bit ruffled, toji had on nothing but obsidian black colored shorts and a white tee. his muscles, you always did feen over his mammoth-like jacked muscles. he was so toned— a lot taller than you, the epitome of what a real man was. “how was the drive? drive okay?”

“it was okay,” you mutter, stepping into his apartment. he’s holding a half empty can of cheap off brand booze, locking the door behind you as you take in the scenery. you feel a bit of butterflies rummage throughout your tummy as he slings an arm around you. it was like each time you’d meet with him again, he’d get more and more affectionate towards you. facing him, you had a cute abashed smile. “you look sleepy. did i wake you?”

“nah,” he firmly shakes his head, placing his empty can aside. toji takes off the thin coat you wore over your hoodie before hanging it up on the nearby rack for you. “i was ‘bout ‘ta get ready for work but then ya texted me.”

work.

toji never did tell you what he does for a living.

your eyebrows slightly raise. “wha— why? i can wait, just go to work.”

“dollface, really. it’s fine,” he chuckles, his voice a rough low. he leads you towards his bedroom, the bed wasn’t made up although it smelled a lot like him in here. a cheap musk of cologne fills through your nose as you sit down on his bed beside him. toji stretches, the veins in his forearms exposing ever so slightly and it’s so hot. “besides, didn’t feel like clockin’ in anyway. still gotta finish my taxes.”

“oh,” you mumble, completely lost in his gaze as he continues to speak. toji notices you staring and he smirks.

playfully, he pokes at your forehead, a teasing flick with two fingers to snap you out of whatever trance you were in. “. . soooooooo,” toji hums in a raspy pitched tone. his fingers that went against your skin was abnormally warm. “what did you wanna talk ‘ta me about?”

right, that..

suddenly, you felt your thighs squeeze together. toji’s staring at you, awaiting for a response and whilst you smother your glossed lips together, you rub the back of your neck. “oh, it can wait. it’s not that important,” damn, if looks could kill, you’d be screwed. dark green irises focus on your lips, then your eyes before back towards your pursed up lips. toji was quite familiar with your awkward body language, you lean up close to him before dragging a finger down his chest. so sensually, “like i said though, i missed you toji. i go back home tomorrow.”

“you’re lying, doll,” he whispers, letting your finger run down the middle part of his chest. a few bristles of chest hair pokes through his white tank before he raises a brow. “but fine,” and he grabs you to sit right on his lap. instinctively, your arms wrap around his broad neck. the closer you got, the more you got a good whiff of him. his cologne was so strong, it made you dizzy. “i missed ya more. and that’s right, y’er spring break’s ‘bout to end,” and you almost moan at feeling his clammy hands squeeze against your thighs. “excited to go back?”

“no,” you grumble, a grouse hiding underneath your tone. he slyly smiles, a thumb skimming against your skin. “i don’t wanna leave yet.”

“well girl then jus’ stay,” he rolls his eyes, forever a sassy, sassy man. “and, i find it kinda amusing. the whole point of your spring break was to visit your father ‘n you basically spent it all with me,” and his eyes run down your body, pulling you up close to kiss the outside of your neck. “ain’t complainin’ though.”

you pout, he had a point. “i can’t stay, my campus is like five hours away,” and you moan a bit from the softness of his lips meeting against your tender skin. “maybe.. you could visit me though.”

“eh. we’ll see.”

moments pass before you find yourself making out with toji. it lasts for a good while, ten precise minutes exactly. his hands free-for-all all over your body, the warmth of his hot breath goes against yours. the bitter taste of rich booze lingers on his breath, it’s chemically and it almost burns, yet it’s addictive. toji’s taste alone was addictive. you moan, feeling him ghost a big hand between your thighs to locate your arising heat. your leggings could only conceal your arousal for so long. his eyes were barely open, half-lidded as another hand travels up your hoodie. stubby fingers of his drag against your skin in such a way that you couldn’t help but grind against his lap.

toji grunts, deepening the passionate kiss—his tongue was so sweet, occasionally sucking against yours. perhaps he did miss you more than you missed him. with his head slightly cocked back to a certain angle, you start to hear and feel your own breaths shudder.

everything was going so fast yet slow, he parts his lips a bit further before you feel a hand of his reach all the way down between your legs. after a while of mashing teeth and sucking against tongues together, he pulls away. “y’er still as nasty as i remember. walkin’ around with no fuckin’ panties, huh?”

“nasty for you,” you whine, feeling his rough hands tug all over your body. swiftly, a hand snakes underneath your thighs. he runs a single thumb down your soaked slit and he guffaws. with a sly grin, he leans in to kiss more against your neck. so tender, he knew all the right spots to make you whimper out and squirm. his balmy hot breath resuming to collide against your skin made you bite your lip, an arm still throwing around his neck. “you don’t like me wearing panties anyway.”

“well yeah,” he sneers, his touch going further against your pre-soaked clit. you were already a bit drenched and he hums. “i steal them from ya regardless. my ‘lil souvenir. besides, what’s the point of wearin’ those things when y’er always this fuckin’ soaked.”

you moan, feeling him insert a single finger inside. his fingers were always so thick, stretching you out probably even better than his dick ever could. almost as if your entrance was elastic with how good it stretches. it’s his middle finger, then it sporadically turns into two— two thickset fingers prodding inside your slick heat.

you coat his digits so well with your syrupy arousal, he glances at you with a simper as you clamp around them both at once. “you get more nastier for me every time,” he murmurs, slowly swirling his fingers inside you. you’re clinging onto his neck tightly, feeling that strain in your lungs drag out as you pant. “drivin’ around this wet, girl i ‘oughta spank ya.”

“do it then.”

he glares at you before you gasp. toji lightly shoves you into the bed and you flop down, uttering out a soft ‘oof.’ landing on the sound mounds of your chest, he yanks down your leggings fully before meanly kissing the right cheek of your ass with his palm. “do it then,” he mocks you, pitching his naturally gruff tone to your own. “shut the fuck up,” and the sting feels good, his fingers were now out of you and again, you pout. clamping around nothing now, you were quite really just arched over his bare knee. “have ya been touchin’ y’erself lately? tell me.”

“no,” you lie, and that earns another spank— you moan out, the feeling of his palm was so hot at first touch. quite literally, the sting made you twinge before you grip onto his bulky thighs. “haven’t touched myself, swear.”

“oh bye, don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” toji mutters, and you’re just dangling over his knee.

occasionally, the coolish air against his room would waft right against your skin. “known ya for a good what, two weeks? i can tell y’er lying,” and the way his voice pitches— it’s so rough, gravelly.

the baritone in his voice never fails to make you wet, so deep. you didn’t really know a good way to describe toji’s voice, all you knew was that it was raspy as hell. heavily and utterly raspy to the point where even him whispering against your ear was enough to have you drenched. “don’t like ya touchin’ her when ‘m not around,” he clicks his tongue, caressing your bare stinging ass. you’re panting, aching for him to just hurry up, to do something. toji cackles, noticing from how impatient you were simply from your body language. “aw. am i talkin’ too much for the pretty girl? you bein’ over my knee not enough to satisfy ya?”

you sigh, wriggling your ass a bit and he spanks it again just to watch the recoil bounce against your skin.

“t— tojiiii. just fuck me already.” you grumble, you didn’t really care how whiny you sounded.

it was late at night and you were horny. that was for sure pretty much all you knew. besides, despite it being about two to three days since you last saw him, yeah.. maybe that wasn’t even long of an absence— but you did kind of miss toji.

more importantly, you missed his little friend between his legs.

“i’ll fuck ya when i wanna,” he gruffs. you whine once he sprawls your legs open a bit more. toji stares at your ass, spreading them to see your sloppy cunt opening for him. a sweet little meet and greet. so wet, you’re still laid over his lap before he leans down. “shh. listen to her,” is all he says. whilst he’s inching his face closer, two exact seconds later you feel toji’s saliva trickle into your pulsating entrance. oh. he spat on your pussy, he was quite direct with it too. he then gathers a long stringy wad of gossamer-like spit before spitting it right between your swollen folds. you bite your lip hard, forgetting how much of a nasty man he was. “yeah she’s missed the fuck outta me.”

toji was purely fluent in pussy talk. it was common for him. he’d always refuse to your cunt as ‘she’ as if she had a name or something.

no shame, shameless— toji brings a thumb towards your clit, rubbing against it just so you could hear the squelches you made yourself.

“you used a toy, baby?” he hums, sliding his tongue against his lips, against the scar that slants against his skin oh-so-sexily..

“y-yeah,” you whimper, the coldness of his saliva making you shudder within his hold. your breathing became more rapid as you tighten the hold on his legs. “magic wand. i jus’ wanted to try it.”

“tch… magic fuckin’ wand,” he snarls, actually sounding quite offended.

continuing to drag and skim his fat thumb down your slit, you mewl out. you’re effortlessly soaking his single slender digit with such sheeny amounts of your sweet. “bet ya didn’t even know what the fuck you were doin.’ how long it take ‘ta make you finish?”

you’re panting now, trying to recall your lewd moments with your sweet beloved hitachi, it was expensive too.

you bought it from some shady link online, one of your friends recommended it to you so you shrugged it off, saying why not. besides, you hardly ever have time to play with yourself anyway. even more now that you had toji.

“like … maybe thirty minutes.” you exhale deeply, the fast paced strokes of his fingers making your eyes almost roll back. so so good, all he was really doing was skimming his fingers against your sopping wet entrance— barely even doing anything, yet you were still a mess.

toji chuckles, making you get off his lap before laying you face first on the mattress. he grabs your waist, pulling your ass upward to stick out before he gets up close for a nice direct view. “aw. thirty minutes? thirty minutes when it can only take me five with my tongue?”

“f-fuckkk.” you start to babble, his warm breath fanning all against your exposed cunt.

it cools against your skin, sending each nerve that resides inside of your entrance to spiral uncontrollably. toji had you arched all over, arched over like some slut.

to be fair, if the shoe fits you might as well wear it.

“dunno if ya deserve to be eaten out,” he speaks in a low undertone. your dilated pupils roll way back at his simple touch.

he teasingly brings his tongue towards your pussy, it’s retting, sloppily so. toji drags two fingers and you eagerly coat his digits with such salaciously, lewd arousal. “mhm. look at that, fuckin’ drenched. my favorite waterpark,” and he spits against your folds once more before snickering darkly. “jus’ thinkin’ you used those useless hands on this pretty pussy makes me ill.”

oh, you’re about to lose it..

he was stalling, more talking and less eating.

instead, it should have been vice versa.

you’re a mover, writhing in his lap, still hunched over with a cute arch before he spanks your ass.

“little girl, cut that shit out,” he grunts and abruptly, you feel the coldness of his flat tongue finally lap against your pussy.

immensely, your mouth forms into an ‘o’. if it was anything toji fushiguro knew how to do well, it was that he knew how to eat.

he ate you out like it was the end of the fucking world, as if your pussy was the only food remaining left in stock.

you gnaw on your bottom lip further, gasping once he wastes no time to dig in.

. . slow slow sluuuurps,

he makes sure you hear how wet you were on his mouth. just downright filthy, his tongue lays itself flat before he nibbles all against your throbbing clit.

“o-oh my god, toji, hngh,” you’d babble out in pathetic sweet sobs. with his tongue scrapping against your entrance, creating suction with his mouth had you stupid.

as your maw dramatically drops, he’s eating you from the back. there’s a concise dull moment where he pauses. with big two rough hands, he spreads your ass open fully. “f-fuuuck.” you moan, feeling him blow his warm breath all against your puffed folds.

from behind, you hear his sexy low titter before he resumes—yet this time, he lolls his pink tongue all the way out, so fucking long..

and as he does, he licks from the very bottom of your cunt until he’s reaching near your puckering hole— he’s never acknowledged that spot before, your ass.

your eyes widen, a clamoring gasp exits from your lips before he spits against it, lathering his tongue everywhere. he likes it wet, more importantly though, he likes it nasty.

“arch that back more for me, bend girl, bend,” he coos in a muffled tone— purely speaking with his mouth full. his stubble tickles against your pussy and your back voluntarily moves itself forward. a curve, he found it so appealing,

so . . amusing.

“there mphm we go baby, good girl. keep that head on the bed. ‘m fuckin’ starved.”

you’re clinging tight onto one of toji’s satin covered pillows, feeling his tongue roam everywhere. it knew no bounds. your heart starts to race at a more rapid speed the second he sneakily dips his tongue back into your needy clit.

he passionately sucks against the clitoral hood before using a hand to smack your ass every single time you squirm.

after about probably the nth time of his lewd escapades with his tongue, he starts to prod his calloused fingertips near your entrance once more. his fingers featuring his tongue, oh you were really no match.

“imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonna—”

“mhm, bet ya are,” he rasps, a deep chuckle dragging out of his throat.

the way your body responds to him was so cute. “keep that ass up ‘n y’er face down,” he orders, earning another vicious smack on the rear from him. you’re moaning, feeling yourself start to spasm. toji occasionally breaks his lips away to kiss near your ankle, your thighs, anywhere but your cunt and he knows how much you hated that.

the teasing— he’d purposely stop just to move his lips elsewhere, watching you fidget in such obscene anticipation. “don’t fuckin’ cum yet.”

“but—”

“but shit. you heard me,” he groans, bringing his mouth back towards between your legs. you whine, feeling him roll out his tongue before slurping up such a good amount of your syrupy taste.

with your toes curling, stomach seizing, you couldn’t stop shaking.

so damn good, his buttony nose rubs against your folds and it tickles for a split second. the stimulation has your mind going for a loop, you even slip your hands underneath your sweatshirt just to touch on your sensitive perky nipples. “wait for me. hold it, yeah.”

but of course, you didn’t listen,

your body had other plans.

it was inevitable, your orgasm ignored toji anyway, you’re ponderously throbbing.

the pulse between your thighs only grow more briskly before you realize you’re drooling all over his bedsheets.

oh, the feeling felt so delicious, your jaw remains open and you feel so much pressure. so much, his tongue still grazes against your slit before you shriek out, gasping for whatever air was left. it was quick, very very quick.

it’s speed..

it’s tempo was like lightning speed—a bolt that flashes within a blink of an eye, concentric circles steadily building up within your lower abdomen pooling up with heat before it just snaps,

you came.

“o-oh fuck, f-fuuuck, toji,”

suddenly, the room grows quiet. you knew toji didn’t like for you to finish early—especially finishing after he tells you to wait, but oh well.

you couldn’t help it, and the orgasm he just gave you was so good, mouth watering. with weak legs that could barely stand up it’s on own, you inhale a single sharp breath before you’re flipped over quickly.

“the fuck did i just tell you?”

“s-sorry,” you giggle, sprawled all on his bed. your eyes immediately meet the gaze of his shorts, they were half on. he’s got a bulge going on, a hard one at that. his black boxers briefly stick out and it’s so attractive—you catch a glimpse of his happy trail from his tank top that was pulled up just a bit, exposing a bit of his skin. sharp v-line, slim snatched waist.

slut..

god, he was so jacked. the more you stare at his sculptured body, the more you fantasized about how he could just toss you around the—

“oh, is somethin’ funny to you?” he utters lowly, and his tone— he sounds ticked off, he’s barely even raising his tone, projecting it but you still hear the slight rasp to it. you just got even more soaked. “was gonna let ya ride me but i don’t wanna stare at a brat right now.”

“h-huh?” you reply, and then your face was met against the plush mattress again.

you lewdly mewl out a whimper once he spanks your ass, a hand grabbing onto your hip.

“don’t act like ya can’t here me, girl. bring that ass up a bit more,” and you gasp, feeling him drag your hips a bit closer towards his slim waist. “yeah.” he breathes, having a gentle yet firm grip on you.

rough coarse fingertips glide up against your own hips as you feel him take a second to align himself. fuck, you missed this.

you missed him.

in the midst of toji already pulling down his shorts and boxers— he then grabs ahold of his thick cock, giving it a few solid strokes.

he was so hard, leaky tip glistening with pre that he wished he made you lick the top off.

but it was far too late, he just wanted to be inside, just as much as you wanted him inside. the crown of his cock was so fat, even with toji being slow to ease himself inside, he’s still practically splitting you open.

“shit, i missed this,” he grunts in a hoarse tone whilst he’s going inside you.

“f-fuck,” you bawl up the creamy white sheets into your fists.

you almost forgot just how big he was, despite it only being a good three days without feeling him stretch you out.

toji groans, feeling the subtle tightness of your walls adjust to him like always— it usually lasts a second or two. he’s furthering himself in, already about to bottom out.

he’s already niiice and snug. a perfect fit,

every. single. time.

toji rarely does doggy with you because he prefers staring at your face— solely to make fun of your little facial expressions. but whenever you were bent over for him on all fours, it was simply an experience you never wanted to end. “oh fuck m-me,” you croak, feeling him yank harshly against the hood of your hoodie. you bump back against him and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to create an unkempt, sloppy pace.

it was rhythmic, he starts off slow before strenuously pounding into you.

churning up your sweet savory insides like butter, you clamp around him so good that it makes his abs tense up. “mhm,” he tugs tighter against the fabric that was thrown over you from the torso up. dark eyes of his flicker toward your ass, each time he moves, your ass moves.

in full compatibility, the sheer skin slaps was brutal. your head was spinning like a merri-go-‘round, strained inhales pulling your heaving lungs every few milliseconds. “. . girl,” toji groans, and you moan once he gives your ass a spank again for probably the umpteenth time today. his voice, every syllable he drags out in that deep hoarsely voice of his had you so soaked. “fuck back against me, c’mon. ‘s a two way street, baby.”

“y-you’re so fuckin’ big though,” you whine, pawing into the soft cushions of his comforter.

“awww,” he utters in a faux, sympathetic tone.

he leans against you, so close to where he’s basically in prone bone— no more doggy.

he’s so deep that the tip of his dick prods all against your secluded g-spot. toji’s hefty weight hovers against your bare ass and you moan melodically. “i’m big, yeah?” and a colossal, veiny hand of his wraps around your throat. gentle, barely any pressure but a good amount to make you whine again. “but y’er doin’ so good, was jus’ about to praise you but you don’t want praises, huh,” and you’re falling in love time and time again with his sensual yet reckless rhythm. the way the bed rocks and shakes in harmony, you’re at a lost of words.

speechless, breathless, every -less word by this point.

he was hitting you so deep, every angle.

so thorough,

his hips were sharp— your moans grow louder the moment he gets right up against you, a hand gripping into your hair rigidly. mercilessly, a hand lightly digs into your scalp as he’s holding your head up. toji’s damn near balls deep now, making sure you feel every consecutive thrust. “some nerve, textin’ me at three am just to fuck this sloppy cunt,” and his hot breath fans against your neck. you whine once you feel his tongue slide against your sensitive collarbone. so deep—you were sure he’s just jackhammering his cock into you by this point. each movement was pivotal, he was precise with the way his hips snapped against you. whiplash got you good, you’re currently just a babbling mess listening to his crude words. “but i bet ‘s more than that, yeah? you wanted to tell me somethin’ so just tell me.”

“n-not yet,” a sweet moan dies out your throat.

toji rolls his eyes— this girl, he’s thinking in his head. you were testing his patience, a stubborn little thing. one of the many things he’s liked about you. “fuck, h-harder toji. harder.”

“sloooow? i can do slow,” he replies in a deriding tone, and his deep thrusts turn into satirical unserious, slow pumps. you whine, he lets go of your hair and you just plop down on your chest. he knew what you wanted, he knew how you liked to be fucked, and yet he was just being a tease.

toji fucking fushiguro for you.

he’s always been rough with you, treating you like nothing more than a mere rag doll at times. there’s been sweet affectionate moments too, rarely, but it has its moments.

toji’s infatuation with you only grows, the more he spends time with you the more he even starts to question himself.

you’ve got him whipped.. precisely with your pussy, yes, but whipped in another way completely. he didn’t know how to describe it, mainly because it was nothing to describe,

indescribable.

he couldn’t put anything to words—especially whenever he was deep in your guts, mashing your cunt around with his cock like homemade dough. kneading it with his tip,

stretch, mold, ply, repeat..

he’s doing all that with his dick. he sucks his teeth, a tsk escapes from his mouth before he spanks your ass— bringing you right back to reality.

“fuckin’ gonna milk the shit out of me,” he groans, his hips all sloppy and vigorous.

toji’s so close to you that by now, he brings a foot up to press against the back of your neck. you gasp, really feeling just how deep he was inside your cunt.

the wool of his sock presses against your neck as your face was smushed against the satiny sheets. “mhm, that’s it girl, take it. take that shit. milk my fuckin’ cock, fuuuck.”

his groans get louder, you’re so wet it’s ludicrously sloshing against him and you’re all doe-eyed and dumb.

emphasis on dumb, not a single thought was embedded into your brain.

as his hips keenly buck against you, you’re breathing shallowly, trying to keep a good momentum against him before you whine.

you were close again, yet this time— something else was approaching,

something more . . provocative.

your legs shake and shake, your jaw aches from how much your teeth is shattering amongst each other before you feel him grab onto your wrist.

he pins it behind your back whilst he’s still fucking you raw.

broad, clammy hands of his roam down your voluptuous body, taking in to snag a feel of your curves, your pretty physique, everything..

beads of sweat droplets start to race down the sides of toji’s naturally dark brows— he huffs and puffs, the girth of his dick only stretching out inside of you even further.

you’re a babbling mess, the arch in your back was so cute that it makes him throb. you feel the throb that lingers from his dick, it pulsates at such a meteoric pace that it has you pulsing in response.

“where do ya want it,” he grumbles with a soft vexing pout on his lips. toji was trying his best to maintain composure—but he was flustered, the more he leers down your back, down your pretty structured spine, the more he’s starting to adapt this unexplainable feeling. “best fuckin’ tell m—”

“inside,” you purr out, your voice all strained and a raucous from the immense amounts of moans that left your throat. “i-inside, wanna feel you again, ‘n again, ‘again..”

toji snickers, swiping a tongue against his lips before he slows himself down for you to adjust.

you’re preparing to finish with him— he coos right up against your ear, sticking two fingers in your mouth. “finish with me, princess. ‘m givin’ you this one chance,” and he deepens his voice all the way down, balls so deep inside that you feel a faint gape stretch you whole.

you’re compressing him down tight with your gummy walls before you feel the slimy friction of pure sweat sticking against your own skin. “you gonna be a good girl ‘n cum on my cock? or a bad girl who’s not even listenin’ to a damn thing ‘m saying.. ?”

“c-cum, toji, mphm,” you choke out a sweet desperate wail, feeling one of his bulky arms wrap around your torso. “wanna cum.”

as you spoke, your words were merely muffled from his thick digits shoving inside of your sloppy, needy mouth. his warmth, once it skids against your skin, it never ever leaves.

you think you’re about to cum but instead, you gush out.

violently, electricity courses through your veins. vibration after vibration pulses throughout your body and you’re hysterical,

it’s so abrupt, so intense..

you’re squirting, coating his dick with your honeydew arousal from the base down.

he chuckles at your body’s initial response, how you’re finding it impossible to stay still. you’re clenching around his shaft still, mouth all open, eyes wide as big as restaurant saucers.

swooning, you’re swooning from his length and that’s when you whimper once he groans right in your ear.

the raspiness, it’s got you drenched— drenched like a faucet, the sensation was beyond pleasurable.

toji ends up following seconds after, it hits him harder. like a truck, it comes at full speed before you’re met with such absurd milky ropes of his seed. it shoots out quick, but it’s thick. you get quiet, hearing the sloshing spurts trickle its way inside of you. “f-fuck,” he stutters, a shaky breath following as he slides his fingers out of your mouth. a trailing glimmering cobweb of your own spit drags from his two fingers as he’s dumping knots and knots of cum into your sweet, starving cunt. “saved so much f’r you, feel it deep ‘n y’er womb, doll?”

“y-yes.” you swallow, a multitude of moans emit from you before he slowly pulls out.

oh, the sight of it all. one of toji’s favorite parts was to simply gawk at the mess he created, taking in the mess he made you.

a messy girl.

the messiest, your chest feels tight and you’re heaving.

he licks his lips, staring at your ass with hazy eyes. his own cum oozes out of your hole and he just wants to lick it, plug it back into you and give you another thick load.

that’ll come soon enough— as much as he had stamina equivalent to a near stallion, he needed a little break. his chest felt like it was about to explode.

“fuck,” he collapses against his side of the bed, reaching towards his thigh to scratch it.

as if on instinct, you crawl towards him, an arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer. your head presses against his chest. you hear his rapid heart beat and he murmurs out a husky, “good girl,” and he leans in to kiss the crown of your head. “gimme a minute though. ‘m not as young as i used to be, y’know.”

you giggle, a simper stretching across your face as the time passes.

instantaneously, it gets quiet for a moment before you suddenly remember why you even came here . . for one last time.

“toji,” you utter, attempting to catch your breath.

you were still heaving with lungs full of build up oxygen, panting a bit before he glances down at you with that unreadable, naturally stern expression.

a hand of yours strums down his pecs seductively, playing with the curly chest hair that remains stuck against his skin. “i’ll um . . tell you what i wanted to say earlier.”

“let me go first.”

with your eyebrows slightly furrowing, you glance up at him and he stares up at the ceiling before back at you. “about a week back, at y’er dad’s place, i told ya i loved you,” and his breath hitches for a moment— even saying something as sentimental as that made him cringe.

you figure he was being serious though because his sudden eye contact never left yours. “you never gave me an answer back.”

“. . . oh,” you sheepishly say, remembering the exact encounter he was referring to. you then lean up to toji, gingerly planting your lips against the right side of his mouth where his tender scar resides. “you didn’t hear me? i said i love you too, toji.”

his chest feels all warm and mushy, you love him?

“you do?” he replies, being taken aback. this entire situation was messy as is, but again, they do say the heart knows what it wants.

you nod, repeating yourself before pulling him into a quick three second kiss. “i love you, toji.”

. . .

. . . is what he thought you was gonna say.

far from it actually, you’re sat in the passenger seat of toji’s car before you lightly tap him on the shoulder. he’s parked, slouched back against his seat before he snaps out of his erotic phantasm. he was dropping you off back home,

oh right.

home.

“toji? did you even hear a word i just said?”

“huh? yeah, you said you loved me too.”

“no … i didn’t. what?” you scrunch up your face, the most perplexed expression of all.

that was nothing you said, with a sheepish expression, you mutter out the words he’d never thought he’d hear you say. “toji, i said i’m pregnant.”

. .

happy spring fucking break.

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sistertotheknowitall · 7 months

Text

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 8 months

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin demon #alastor #Alastor and vox #Hazbin hotel #helluva boss vox #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin valentino #charlie morningstar #hazbin niffty

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jaylver · 2 months

Text

BREAK THE ICE — S.JY

SYNOPSIS: Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss?

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!jake x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, angst

WARNING(S): profanities, violence (fight), mentions of drinking, alcohol and partying, slight miscommunications, lots of overthinking

WC: 25k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: coming back w another cheesy hockey romance hehehe, here's a spin-off of jake's part in no competition that has a little bit of elements from each part! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

part 3.5 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

You weren't expecting your first landed punch to happen on a random Friday night.

The club was packed with people, overly stuffed to the brim that it eventually became sauna level hot. It didn't help that you had to squeeze past the crowd either, trying to keep your balance and not topple over your own two feet was a hard challenge. Which one of your friends said that it would be a fun idea having a birthday party in a popular club? Now, you've got to face the repercussions of their impulsive planning.

It was also common knowledge that the club was one of the unsafest places to be, so when you felt someone grab your hand from behind in the midst of you squeezing through the crowd, tugging you and causing you to stumble, your first reaction wasn't exactly friendly.

Maybe it was both a rash decision and reaction, but you turned around, the hand no longer on you to even determine who had held onto you, then proceeded to throw a quick punch at the guy you're facing. You didn't even know if he was the actual one that did so, the amount of anger and rage that coursed through your veins had spurred you on to thrust your fist forward before a second thought. Judging from the guy's reaction, he was not the one, and it only clicked once he held his nose in pain.

"What the hell?" His yell above the music was audible to distinguish the confusion and annoyance in his voice. "Are you crazy?"

In the dimness of the club and the hat on his head, you couldn't fully tell who he was, or if he was bleeding from the punch to his nose, but you do know for sure that he was angry. The hat that he wore had the letter 'J' on it, and it was tilted upwards from the impact. He fixed it as immediately as you had noticed it.

"I'm so sorry," you were panicking, trying to meet his eyes that were basically impossible to make out in the darkness and the cover of his hat. How were you going to pull your infamous puppy pleading eyes to get yourself out of trouble? "Look, I felt someone grabbing me from behind, and you were … behind me, so I turned around and punched you thinking you were the one who pulled me,"

He could tell you were panicking, though your reason was quite reasonable, he was also rightfully mad at you. The guy before you took a minute before responding, most likely figuring out what to say next. "It wasn't me who grabbed you, it was probably some guy in between us that fled away once you turned around. I can understand your reaction but please don't punch people as your first instinct,"

You winced, mostly in embarrassment. "I know, I'm sorry, really. You're not hurt, right?"

"It's just a punch, I'm not bleeding. I've gotten worse, don't worry," he waved you off, the tension in the stuffy club air was lifted. You couldn't tell if he was actually being serious or just trying to make it situation less serious, either way he was convincing to say the least. However, it was hard not to feel the aftermath of guilt for punching someone accidentally.

"I can get you drinks—"

"Nah, it's fine, really. Go buy a drink for yourself instead," he cut you off, waving his hand once again in dismissal. "I'm just glad you're safe. Even though I got a punch out of it,"

He might've laughed, but you could only let out a small chuckle, still embarrassed. It was amazing how the man was able to recover himself this quickly. "Thanks for not pressing charges or anything. Have a good night,"

"You too, sweets."

Him leaving right after calling you that was not nice at all. You found yourself stunned and replaying the moment. You just punched a guy, he was actually nice to you instead of being mad, and he called you 'sweets'? You might have just fallen in love.

Breathing out a sigh of mixed astonishment and relief, you regained your composure and continued your way out of the crowd. You've never been so glad to find the booth your friends were at, the panic did take a toll on you and all you needed was a shot.

Wonyoung was the first to approach you, her arms outstretched to pull you into a brief hug. "Hey! What took you so long?"

"Punched a guy. Don't ask."

She made a face at what you said, but decided not to question it either. "Okay? Was he cute though?"

"He was…I think?"

This wasn't how you imagined your first hockey game to turn out.

Thanks to your best friend, Anton's constant convincing and overly exaggerated praises for the school's hockey team, you were eventually dragged to one of their games against a big rival of another college. With the way he was explaining the rules and the rivalry, you were surprised at how the swimmer was an actual big fan of the sport. Even as you sat in the stands, successfully turning up to the game, he could, however, still sense your doubt.

"You're going to enjoy this one," he nudged your side, sounding confident till the point where it had you convinced for a second.

You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. "Would I?"

"Come on! Don't be a hater. I'm trying to welcome you to the world of sports,"

"I just don't get the hype of watching a bunch of men skating around with sticks and chasing after a puck," you huffed, standing your ground. Anton should be lucky you tolerated swimming enough to watch all his tournaments. "It's like football but on ice,"

"Either way, at least you'll still get to see some hot guys," he gave a small shrug, seeing your face morphing into that 'you have a point' type of look. Maybe that part had you convinced, even if it was the slightest.

You didn't need Anton to specifically point out which player was cute either, your eyes were already straying to them warming up on the ice. Although you were seated far up, you were able to tell from the glimpses on the jumbotron that number seven, 'JAEHYUN MYUNG', was a total cutie.

"Time to turn up to every game for number seven," you murmured quietly to Anton, watching him roll his eyes in response. But apparently, it wasn't whispered with enough silence.

A cough coming from beside you immediately made your smile drop, an awkward smile made its way to your face to try to diffuse the momentary embarrassment. You turned to glance at the stranger slightly. The hat he had on shielded most of his face, especially when he was staring down on his phone, it only made it harder to make out his identity. Has he been listening all along?

Wait. That hat.

The same hat with the letter 'J' sat on the stranger's head. The one that was on the man you encountered (punched) the night before. Could it be …?

You didn't think much of the guy next to you, not when he was busy with his phone and hiding his face away from you to figure out anyway. Once the game started, your attention had been averted to the ice and all of the moving figures on it. The roaring crowd left you in awe, it seemed the players, too, were basking in the limelight and trying their very best in scoring.

The first two periods had raised the tension in the arena. You, and everyone, including Anton and the guy next to you, had jumped out of your seats too many times. The stranger was the most passionate amongst the bunch in your area. Shouting tactics and cursing at every missed chance, he might as well be the coach.

The nearly scored goals were too much to handle. You got the adrenaline of watching the team play against their rivals with such ferocity, joining the crowd in every 'ooo' or 'ahhh'. Soon enough, you finally understood the passionate love Anton had for the sport.

"See? Hockey is fun," Anton sat back down after the second period was over and the short break commenced, the scoreboard displaying the current leading scores of the home team.

"Yeah, yeah, I take it back," you waved him off dismissively, hating his shit-eating grin that screamed 'told you so'. You turned away from him to avoid that exact expression, gaze drifted up towards the jumbotron instead, spotting an interesting sight. "Hockey games have this?" You pointed up at the screen.

'KISS CAM'

Written in bold pink, cursive font, it was almost like a slap to your face. Look, you've seen this everywhere online, those clips of people being on kiss cams, but to think you're going to be witnessing it in flesh, that's new. You weren't going to be the victim of it … right?

"Oh, the kiss cam? It's a frequent thing they have here. It started off as some charity thing but people loved it so they made it permanent,"

"I can see why they love it," you mumbled, watching the screen panning to a pair that was caught off guard, the rest of the crowds cheering for them once they shared a kiss.

One thing about paranoia was that it's either just a bugging anxiety or a premonition that your gut had. For you in that present situation, it was the latter. Your paranoia foreshadowed your biggest nightmare.

Your conversation with Anton in that moment had distracted you completely from whatever that was happening. That was until you heard the crowd cheering and saw Anton's widening pupils, you soon realised something was up, something not good.

The camera of that kiss cam had its focus on you, but unlike what you predicted, it wasn't you and your best friend that occupied the screen, it was you and the stranger next to you. Speaking of him, he was staring directly at you, the hat was tilted back a little more to reveal his face. The shock of the kiss cam couldn't amount to the shock you had when the man's identity was revealed. It was him. The guy you punched.

The darkness of the club had hid the beauty of his face, the hat itself was shielding you away from the entirety of it. No matter what, you could still tell he was attractive, very attractive. That alone caused your anxiety to increase ten fold. The minor bruise beside his eye was questionable, but the bruise on his nose was easily recognised.

The matching shock in his eyes slipped away, an amused smirk replaced that initial surprise. "It's you again. Not punching me again, eh?"

"Stop staring and kiss already!" A voice yelled out from the crowd before you could respond, followed by a chorus of agreements.

You hate people.

"Are you okay with me kissing you?" The smooth, yet unexpected accent that rolled off his tongue caught you off guard, it was something you just registered despite the multiple times he spoke to you, but you nodded nonetheless. As he leaned in closer, the features on his face magnified, becoming clearer. His eyes were a shade of muddy brown, plump lips pulled into a slight frown and thick eyebrows furrowed. The last thing you expected from him was his hand making contact with your face, the smoothness of his palm cupping your cheek, everything was happening in slow motion. "I need your words, sweets,"

"Kiss me,"

That was all the stranger needed to hear to pull you into the kiss. The softness of his lips melted on yours, moulding it to fit against yours. It was just like a scene brought alive from the movies. The cheers from the crowd was deafening, but the sound of it soon tuned out.

It lasted almost a few more seconds longer before the stranger pulled away, the look of bewilderment evident in his eyes. You were stunned, and so was he. Thankfully, the kiss cam was no longer on you two, instead finding another pair to target. By then, you were still trying to compose yourself. He broke into a smile, one that was so sweet it actually made your heart skip.

"Wow," he breathed out, scratching the back of his neck out of embarrassment.

"Wow," you echoed, falling back onto your seat, feeling a set of watchful eyes from your best friend, who you knew was probably holding in a laugh on your right.

The last period of the game concluded a win for the home team. Everyone was left in high spirits. You, in particular, were feeling the same way but due to different reasons. Before you could utter another word to the guy you kissed, he was already making his way out of the stand and left no traces behind for you to follow. Was he cinderella? Well, there goes your potential soulmate. No, you were being delusional.

It was rather embarrassing to admit that you were actually disappointed. Not mildly, but by a lot. Considering the past encounter you had, you expected the guy to initiate some sort of conversation, yet he fled without trying. He didn't owe you anything, but the small hope you had internally was, undoubtedly, crushed.

"You're telling me now you're sad because of some guy?" Anton snorted loudly into the night as he walked you back to the dorms. Obviously, he started off by laughing at you, then asking for everything as if he wasn't making fun of you in the first place.

"He's not just some guy," you grumbled. "He's cute and a good kisser,"

"So you just want to kiss him again?"

"Hey!" You landed a firm slap on Anton's shoulder, earning a loud yelp from him. "I mean, a little but I just wanted to know who he was. He's that guy I met at the club,"

"Oh really?" That piqued Anton's interest, his eyebrows flying high, lips then turning into a flat line. "I guess that's the beauty of kiss cams. Kiss a stranger, or in your case, kiss and punch a stranger and live with that memory forever," he shrugged, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"You're horrible,"

Your grumble only pulled a snort from him. "Plus, I thought I could help identify him but the way he wore his hat basically hid his face, how am I supposed to tell who he was?"

"I can," you pulled a doubtful frown, wondering if you even remembered his face entirely, speaking of which seemed a little hazy in your memory. It was the shock that made everything a mush, you blamed it on the anxiety and panic. "I think,"

"You think?" Anton practically snickered at your poor choice of words and the lack of conviction in your tone. You, yourself, were equally unconvinced. "Good luck finding your prince charming, princess."

His shout of laughter was quickly drowned out by your string of thoughts. You genuinely needed that luck, because how were you going to find him again in the sea of students that roamed the campus? You could almost feel the ghost of his lips on you, and you swear you're not just ovulating.

Good luck in finding him, indeed.

Turning up to the next game wasn't because of player number seven that initially caught your eyes, nope, not at all. Pathetically so, you were actually hoping to bump into the guy you kissed. Call it fate or something your delusional mind would end up concluding.

Anton managed to bag you and him front row seats, meaning a closer look at the players and a nearer distance to the rink. How did your best friend successfully pull tickets out of his ass? You had no idea but you're not complaining either.

"Don't tell me you're looking around for the guy," Anton caught you in the midst glancing around the area, a rather desperate glint in your pupils giving it away.

"I'm … not," you said unconvincingly, flashing an innocent smile at a doubtful looking Anton.

"Sure you're not," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "How can you even recognise him? Okay, what if he doesn't have his hat on and he's bald, then what?"

"I know for a fact that he's not bald, thank you, there were hair strands peeking out under his hat,"

"Hair cap, it's on Amazon,"

"Please shut up."

The topic of your mystery man eventually dissolved into debates of the oncoming hockey game that was about to start in a while. If you told your past self that you'd be turning into a hockey fan, you'd probably laugh out loud. But, there you were, character development going great.

There was still a handful of time before the warm up, so you took the opportunity to slip away and out of the stands to locate the restroom. You passed some familiar faces, course mates or mutual friends, but none of which were the guy you were searching for.

Being a new fan came with a disadvantage: not knowing the place well enough to tell which way led to the restrooms. You walked down the corridor, passing the food stalls and countless students, looking like an absolute fool.

By the time you finally located one from a distance, you were stopped by a voice coming from behind. All it took was a tap on the shoulder for you to turn your head, quick enough for a momentary whiplash upon meeting the person's eyes.

"Hey,"

It was a man dressed in a formal suit, a backpack hung on his shoulders. He was tall and lean, but muscular enough to have an athlete's build. He could almost fit the hockey players there. But there was something about him to you that seemed familiar, yet you couldn't put an identity to the face.

"Hi. Do I … know you?" You said, uncertain, though you knew you shouldn't be.

The man before you cracked a small smile, tongue poking at the insides of his cheek. He shook his head, probably in disbelief, but there was also a mix of amusement. "No, not quite … yet, but you do know how I kiss, and I know how you punch, so that makes us something, right?"

Pause. It clicked. The hat wasn't there on his head, and he was not bald. That proved Anton something, but he had made a point that you had to admit was right. You forgot how the man that kissed you looked like.

Hat guy. Kiss cam guy? Wait, first punch guy—

"Wait, you're—"

"See you," he let out a laugh, shooting you a wink, purposefully not giving you the chance to fully realise his true identity. Annoying asshole. Just as fast as he had appeared, he was gone with the wind. The initial shock only bloomed bigger, going through several stages of it. The times you prayed for his appearance led up to this moment just for it to pass by quicker than expected, rather underwhelmingly you must add. You didn't even manage to get his name!

Begrudgingly, you made your way back to your seat after the long journey to the restroom. Luckily, the warm up hasn't started and you got to mull in your own disappointment for the time being. The smell of fresh popcorn and corn dogs only made you sink into your seat further.

"Got something flushed down the toilet? Why do you look so sad?" Anton caught onto the frown you had displayed absentmindedly. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"The one that got away,"

"Katy Perry?"

"No. The guy, my guy, I saw him just now and he said 'hi' but left after saying that, what's he in a rush for?" Your questions didn't have a concrete answer to them, but Anton sure knew how to provide some bullshit answers.

"To get away from you, maybe,"

"I'm giving everything in me to not stand up and strangle you right now."

The players of both teams were soon filing out onto the rink for warm ups. The players of the home team were easily recognisable to you after that first memorable game. There was number seven, the captain, the ace, all of which were standing out to you amongst the rest. However, an additional number five that you didn't see prior was standing with the team. His back was facing towards you, the number five sitting comfortably on his back under 'JAEYUN SIM', presumably his name.

"Who's that? Number five. Didn't see him last game," you pointed out to the frequent game goer, Anton, who pursed his lips, nodding slightly.

"That's Jake Sim. Defender. He got suspended for the last game since he committed a foul during the game before the last one. It was quite a scene,"

The players were skating around the rink, moving the puck as they went, shooting goals into the nets as practice. Given the clear view of everything before you, you got the chance to put your focus on player number five, Jake. The speed he was going kept you away from seeing his face, the headgear was only an additional deterrent.

Your curiosity only heightened everytime he passed, the urge to stand and knock against the glass, but that would just get you into the blacklist without doubt. The focus you kept on him was insanely intense, you wondered if he could feel you staring considering the next time he passed your section, turned his head, making a second worth of eye contact with you before skating off.

That split second had the gears in your head running. His eyes were familiar, not to mention, that face … It was him. The one that got away. And he was on the ice? As a player?

Everything made sense now. He was suspended last game which totally explained why he was sitting next to you, and that led him to kiss you and you realised he was also the same person you punched. All in one go.

By the time warm ups ended and the match was about to begin, you were able to finally swallow everything you just processed. The look on your face paired with your anxious finger taps against your lap caught Anton's attention.

"You're finally getting the pre match hockey fan anxiety, huh?" He nudged your side, startling you a little from your train of thoughts.

"No," you breathed out, eyes still trained on the rink that players were currently filing out on. Anton raised his eyebrows at you. "I found out who my guy is,"

"What?" Anton snapped his head to fully look at you now, widened eyes scanning your shock ridden features. "Who is he? Is he some guy that shares the same class as you?"

"He's the one skating on the ice right now—over there," you nodded towards the rink where players were taking their positions. Anton's eyebrows only furrowed at your lack of sufficient information.

"You're fucking kidding. Which one?"

"Jake Sim, it seems," your eyes strayed to the defender that wore the number five, upon the whistle blow, he skated off and you were left wondering. "See? He's not bald,"

"Not the point," Anton snorted, sounding nearly amused and astonished. "You punched him and kissed him all in two days? That's genuinely a meet cute,"

"You're insane. If anything, I'm just hoping he's not filing a restraining order against me,"

"Dude, he willingly kissed you and went up to you just now. I don't think that man wants a restraining order, maybe something more," he started wiggling his eyebrows, smirking playfully at you. You wanted to wipe that look off of his face.

"Dream big, Anton, dream big."

Dreaming big was definitely what the team did in order to secure another win. Jake Sim had thankfully kept his fouling records free so far, and from what Anton mentioned, it seemed Jake has a knick for getting into fights on ice while being the opposite off ice. A man with a stark duality does sound interesting.

The team lingered on the ice after the win, making rounds to bask in the victory and greet the crowds in exchange for their endless support. You watched as the captain approached your side, calling out for Anton and waving at him.

"You know him?"

"How'd you think I got my front row tickets? We're literally party bros," he shrugged nonchalantly while your mouth dropped at the fact that he left you such crucial information. "Which means, I can set you up more easily with your man and we're also getting free booze at the after party,"

"There's an after party?"

"There's always an after party,"

The unexpected part of the night after several surprises along the way was Jake skating towards your side of the crowd, just as Heeseung did. You thought he was doing the same as his captain by greeting everyone, but you knew it wasn't exactly that when he pointed at you, eyes trained on you specifically. It was one of those moments where you looked around and went 'me?' rather embarrassingly. Your genuine confusion made him laugh and he beckoned you to come close to the glass that separated you from him.

You obeyed, casting Anton a reluctant glance, but upon seeing his excited expression, you knew he was egging you on. It was weird, seeing Jake up close this time knowing who he was, unlike the previous encounters, this was definitely a lesser odd one.

'Catch' he mouthed multiple times until it clicked for you, the puck in his hand telling you to watch out. He threw it over the glass and lucky you, your catch was as good as his throw. Jake didn't say much, all he did was point at the puck that was in your possession, smiling sweetly before waving you goodbye and skating away to join the team.

You glanced down at the puck, pupils blown at the sight before you. It wasn't just a puck, it was one that had his number written on it in white marker ink, writings all messy but still readable. 'Text me -Jake :)' was what he signed off with, the lopsided smiley face got a snicker out of you.

"Look who's a true fan now, getting a puck and all," Anton got up to join your side as the crowd started dispersing now that the game was over.

"I didn't just get a puck alone, I also got one step closer to him," you waved the puck in front of Anton's face, grinning pridefully.

"I guess Cinderella's about to accomplish her search for her lost lover prince charming."

Anton truly had a way with his words by convincing you to go to the after party with him, claiming you'd reconnect with Jake and somehow a spark would happen between you two, whatever rant his delusional self came up with. To your dismay, you actually believed him. Not that it wasn't completely untrue since the hockey team would always turn up, but to approach him with everyone around when he's literally a known figure? You might need a couple of shots beforehand first.

You eventually saw Jake and the bunch of hockey players file into the room as the hollers and cheers got louder for them. Pressing yourself closer to the wall, suddenly intimidated by the strong concentration of testosterone filling the room. The constant thoughts of finding the guy you kissed and punched didn't prepare you to legitimately talk to him instead of just daydreaming about him.

As if on command, you attracted the player's attention like a moth to the flame. Anton had disappeared off to somewhere, you were left alone in a corner minding your business and playing tetris on your phone when you felt a presence behind you.

"Boo," The presence confirmed itself and you turned around, too fast till the point where you gave yourself a whiplash, in complete disbelief at the thought of him being there.

"Hey," you breathed out, resisting the urge to back into the wall behind you. This was not the time to start being nervous around a man.

"You didn't forget me this time, right?" Amusement flashed across his face at the mention of your blunder from earlier. You knew it was something he wasn't going to let go easily.

"Of course not,"

"Well good. I'm Jake, Jake Sim. Engineering major and a part time hockey player," he extended his hand out, waiting for you to accept, which you did, casting him a small smile.

"Impressive. What are you? Spiderman? Living with two identities?" You joked, his confidence absolutely taking you aback. "I'm Y/N L/N, nursing major,"

"Let me guess, you minor in punching?"

You scoffed, but laughed. "How did know? I suppose yours is kissing strangers that punch you!"

He snorted, shaking his head, the banter between you and him flowing ever so naturally. It was almost as if you two had been friends since the beginning. "I'm just playing. I'm glad to see you again, I'm sorry I didn't stay back after the game that night. I guess adrenaline got to me and I raced away to find the boys only to realised what a dumbass I was to not ask for your number,"

It was hard trying to hide your shock that he was apologizing. You didn't even expect an apology from it, let alone prepare for it. Yet, the explanation from him set your worries and overthinking to rest. "It's alright, you didn't owe me anything. I'm glad to see you again too. Congrats on the win," you were more than just glad.

A smile made its way to his lips at your words, to him it was hard resisting against a smile when it came to you. He barely knew you, yet you had a charm to you that he was not immune to. "I hope that puck was a good move,"

"It was smooth, definitely caught me off guard but it worked on me,"

Relief was evident on Jake's face, but he played it off coolly. "It didn't strike me that you're a hockey fan,"

"Well, I'm not exactly one, but my friend is and he's the reason why I'm there,"

"Who's your friend?"

"Anton,"

"Anton?" Jake repeated his name, visibly surprised. "He's your friend?"

"You know him?"

"More than just that. How come we've never met?"

"I'm just as confused as you are. He was literally next to me that day where we—you know—appeared on the kiss cam,"

"Really? I didn't see him!"

"Well, that's because your hat practically covered half your face, I couldn't fully recognise you too. He didn't know it was you either," you snickered at the mention of his famous hat that was burnt into your memory by now. "I only found out today that he was friends with Heeseung,"

"He's friends with all of us," Jake chuckled, mostly in disbelief. What was Anton doing hiding all his hot, attractive hockey friends? He wasn't just a fan, he was friends with them. "He loves hockey, so when he found out we played for the school team at this random party, he started coming to cheer for us. Sometimes we would watch his swim tournaments too,"

"What?" You gasped, finding it surprising that you had done the same, except never once had an encounter with the group. "I went to a lot of his swim tournaments too!"

It had rendered both you and Jake speechless, the two of you staring at each other with a look of starstruck filled gazes. All this time, had there been an invisible string that tied you two together? The thought was pushed to the back of your mind as you and him laughed after a pause of silence.

"No way!" Jake exclaimed, laughing in between.

"I'm serious! I don't know how we've never come across one another before,"

"Maybe it wasn't the right time, so fate set us up in a more … unconventional way," Jake said with a hint of playfulness that you caught on. You snorted at the realisation, knowing the incidents were something he was going to hold over your head for a long time.

"It's better than not at all,"

"You're right," he said softly, gaze dropping down to sweep over your body just to come back to meet your eyes once more. "I want to see you more actually, not just at my hockey games or some one time thing. Can I bring you out on a date? What do you say?"

"A date?" You didn't expect Jake to immediately whip out the date card, expecting him to take it slow and build up to a date that you would eventually expect. There was something in you then that invoked a sudden confidence to say such things. "I'm not just some girl you can easily score dates with,"

Jake's lips curled into a small smirk. It was his turn to be surprised and rather amused by you pulling out a surprise attack card, purposely playing hard to get which he caught onto instantly. "What can I do to score a date with you?" He wanted a challenge.

"Show me that you mean it. Earn me," you were gladly setting up something testing for him. "One week. Then I'll decide,"

"You know how to play, L/N," Jake shook his head, but didn't shy away from it either, brazenly taking it on with his head held high. "Just wait, I'll prove it to you. By the end of the week, we're going to be on a date,"

"I'll be waiting for you to swoon me over, Sim."

Jake bit back a smile, ideas already churning in the back of his mind as the both of you moved onto other topics. He was going to win you over, he was sure of it. The first step of breaking the ice had been done, now it was onto getting you, the girl he had unknowingly fallen for after unfortunate encounters that he believed to be fated.

Despite the many difficult games Jake played in or the countless troubles he faced on and off ice, for the first time in ages, he was actually challenged, and he was going to overcome it to make you his.

"You scored yourself a man?"

Telling both Wonyoung and Anton about Jake at lunch was equally comical and confusing. Anton was the one who knew the whole timeline while Wonyoung needed a lot of catching up, resulting in many back-and-forths in the conversation. In the end, you finally reached the conclusion with both fully caught up.

"Well, yes but not officially?" You didn't even know how to put it.

"Y/N wants a yearning man, that's what," Anton snickered, earning a firm slap on the shoulder from you, though you didn't deny.

"You never told me you were friends with Jake too! Or with the whole hockey team," it was your turn to point fingers at Anton, staring accusingly at him.

"Last time I checked you weren't interested in hockey and jocks," he shrugged, which you couldn't deny wasn't entirely wrong. "Plus, I didn't think it was necessary,"

"They're his party friends," Wonyoung added, earning a guilty eye roll from Anton.

"Okay, pause, they're more than that. They even came to my tournaments, but that's not the point. Look, honestly, they're the last people I'd set you up with," Anton threw his hands up.

"Are they really that bad?"

"They're not bad, they're good people, just … the single ones tend to have more fuck boy tendencies as cliche as it sounds," Anton clicked his tongue, leaning back into his seat. "You know, when you're hot, single, and a quite known collegiate athlete, girls are going to be chasing after you,"

"Great, now I have to think about him being perceived by other girls," you muttered, supporting your chin on your palm.

"But he only has his eyes on you now," Wonyoung interjected immediately, trying to salvage the originally sweet and romantic scenarios of Jake. "He wants a date with you and he's going to go out of his way to prove that he deserves it. It shows enough that he's serious about you,"

"Yeah, don't let my words get to you. That's just a general idea people have on them and their romantic lives, but you have a chance to find out the truth," Anton tried his best in mending the cracks of your perception, realising he probably said too much for your own good. "Worst case scenario the date flops, you can just ghost him,"

Wonyoung narrowed her gaze at him. "Shut up, Anton."

The rest of the day consisted of classes that got you away from your friends' constant bickers and distracted you from the thought of Jake. Not to be that overthinking person that you were, but to know how Jake was perceived probably crushed the small idea you created of him. You shouldn't have even created the idea in the first place, but a crush was a crush no matter what, wasn't it?

"What's got you so deep in thought?"

The owner of that voice which startled you appeared before you as you walked out of the lecture hall, completely in a daze until the man you couldn't keep out of your mind somehow read your ongoing thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, finding yourself standing face-to-face to a smile that radiated the sun's energy.

"Hello to you, stranger,"

"Stranger? You wound me," he joined your side almost immediately as you picked up your steps again.

"Hello, Jake," you corrected lightheartedly, resisting a smile once his laughter reached your ears. Is it normal for someone you barely knew to have such an effect on you?

"Hello, Y/N," he greeted back, going along with whatever that's happening. "You're really pretty today,"

You raised an eyebrow at him, though the tightening grip of your hand on your bag strap betrayed your nonchalance. "You say this to other girls?"

"Only to the ones that punch and kiss me, which is none, other than you obviously,"

"Real charming, Sim," you chuckled, nudging his shoulder with yours, eliciting a playful giggle from him. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm walking you back to the dorms," he said nonchalantly in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Don't you have classes? Wait—how did you even know I was here?" You turned to stare at him, both puzzled and shocked.

"I had classes, but that doesn't mean I can't free up my time to come find you, no? And don't worry, I've got an insider," he winked, and by that, you knew it could only be Anton that served as his insider.

"You didn't need to, you know?"

"I do want to though," Jake slid his one hand into his pocket, glancing at you briefly. "You might think I'm just doing this for the sake of earning a date but I honestly just want to see you,"

You blinked, eyes softening at his words. Looking at him was the only reaction you could get out of yourself, not knowing what to do or say. You failed to even realise your heart had skipped a beat.

He smiled at your reaction, shaking his head slightly. "Don't take me so lightly, sweets," he said rather lightheartedly, but genuinity lied in every letter. You still needed to wrap your mind around the fact that Jake was actively chasing you.

"You're doing that thing again,"

You snapped out of your thoughts, curiosity flooded your features. "What 'thing'?"

"The thing where you seem to be caught up with your thoughts," Jake had completely read you like a book, way faster than any of your friends had. How? "You know what, let's stop by that bakery first for some sweet treat to clear your mind. How does that sound?"

A sincere, sweet smile spread onto your face, the slightest of nods as a response as you tried to compute a sentence without malfunctioning. "I'd love that." I love you. Too soon, but God, you just had to put that out there somewhere even if it's in your head.

You let Jake whisk you away to the bakery, then back to the dorms where you held onto him until it was ultimately a few seconds too long to be just a casual hug. The momentary silence after was filled with your quiet smiles, followed by hushed goodbyes that trailed past your door, leaving you in a lump of mush whose heart was beating too quick for your own good.

Was this how liking someone felt? Well, it was something to be discovered as you failed to come to terms with it just yet.

Somehow, Jake knowing your class schedule and coming to your lecture hall at the end of each day became something you didn't question eventually. The shyness from both sides melted with every encounter, soon the space between you and him seemed to become smaller, and your bag would be on his shoulder instead. It was unimaginable how quick you and him got along in a short period of time as if you had been friends since the start.

"You didn't come to the game yesterday," Jake pointed out rather sulkily, flashing you those signature puppy eyes that you learned in a span of three days was actually just a trick to milk some pity.

"Jake, it's a school night. Why is the team even playing twice this week?" you deadpanned.

"Who says you can't have some fun on school nights?" He raised his eyebrows expectantly at you just to be shot down by your blank stare. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm convinced your appearance is pure luck for our team,"

"Now, what BS are you trying to use to convince me to go?"

"It's not bullshit! The last game we played that you didn't come to resulted in a near loss. We were lowkey shit. The times you were there, we were somehow the next contending NHL team,"

"I think that's just a coincidence," you poked his arm, shaking your head in pure disbelief.

"To me it isn't. Come to the next game, and to the pregame party with me on Friday,"

"Pregame party?"

"It's this party we have once in a while—you know what—it's actually almost before every game, but as I was saying, a party,"

"Full of jocks?"

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. "Not only jocks, Anton will be there too,"

"Wow, like that's any better," you said sarcastically, knowing your best friend was the worst party goer to be with. Despite his shy personality and persona, all it took was one cup of alcohol to get him absolutely buzzed and become the opposite of his usual demeanour. That explained why he would usually ditch you though it was unintended. Wonyoung then became your party partner in crime, you suppose Jake was now trying to make a spot for himself now.

"I won't get drunk, I promise, I won't even touch a single drop of alcohol. I'll be by your side the whole time. It'll be a good opportunity to meet the guys too," he raised his eyebrows expectantly at you, the smile on his face persisting. He could tell you were conflicted. "You do the drinking, I'll do the driving, how about that?"

"Modern day romance, cute," you snickered, gradually letting the feeling of FOMO get to you but you also wanted to actually hang out with Jake. "I'll go,"

"Great—"

"No funny business," you pointed an accusatory finger at him, to which he reacted with a mock salute, flashing a satisfied grin.

"Absolutely no funny business." He reaffirmed, the sparks in his eyes increasing by tenfold. "I'll be by your doorstep at 8 sharp."

Jake was a man who stuck to his words. He was, in fact, on your doorstep at 8 PM that night, ringing the doorbell a minute earlier until you swung the door open to reveal yourself, already ready to leave.

"Hey,"

"Hi," you greeted back after a second's pause, stepping out to close the door behind you. "You're on time,"

Jake pulled a face, following your pace as you two started making your way to wherever Jake's car was parked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

You shrugged, pursing your lips. "My past dates never came on time,"

"Well, they suck and I'm glad it didn't get serious because you deserve better,"

You took a glance at him, smiling at the way he had his eyebrows furrowed, looking as if he was mad on your behalf. "I have you now,"

It took a couple of seconds for it to dawn on Jake's face. Watching his features twist and morph upon realisation had you giggling deviously. "I'm your date? Are you calling this a date? What—"

"Come on, let's walk faster." You looped your arm around his, pulling him along and giving him zero chances to collect himself as he tried to dissect everything happening. He didn't question it further once you two got into his car, only a faint smile remained on his lips all the way there.

You practically clung onto Jake almost like a koala bear upon entering the threshold of the frat house, reminding you of why you barely go to parties in the first place. "How about you do all the socialising too?"

Jake threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. It was an odd feeling when you noticed people having their eyes set on you and him, the hockey star player with just some girl. "Come on, the guys will love you,"

"I have social anxiety,"

"That's too late to confess now," he gave your shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze. "We can leave anytime you want,"

"Really?"

"Really. It's not about me tonight, it's you. Plus, coach will kill us if he knows we're at another one of these parties, so I'm saving my ass while we're at it,"

"You're an idiot," you snorted, but all he did was mirror your smile without your knowledge.

Out of all the things you've witnessed at this party, you found the most fascinating thing was Jake knowing practically everyone there. Every person he's passed by would greet him or he would be the first to greet them, the popularity of his was evident.

Never in a million years would you be able to predict the fact that you would meet the school's hockey team, let alone Jake himself. You were too used to seeing their tiny figures skating around on ice that when Jake brought you up to his friends, you had to blink a couple of times.

"Hey! Oh—you're the one that gave little Jakey a kiss," Heeseung's attention immediately turned to you after Jake introduced you to his small circle of friends.

"Dude!" Jake swatted Heeseung's shoulder, the reddening tips of his ears gave himself away.

"I'm Y/N," you casted a pointed look over at Jake while you introduced yourself to his friends, shaking some of their hands and letting them give you a half hug. Anton was amongst the bunch, occasionally nodded over at Jake to purposely tease you.

The amount of drinking games the circle of hockey players pulled you in was admirable even for a person with high tolerance like you. There were wins and losses, by the end of the night, you could barely stand on your two feet. Thankfully, your personal chauffeur and date was there for you to lean on.

"I want to see you around more often," Sunghoon drunkenly pointed over at you. "Jakey, don't hide her, okay? She's lots of fun,"

The rest hummed in agreement and Jake reassured them he'd do so before saying his last goodbyes of the night. His attention was now fully on you as he tried his best to get you into his car, somehow managing to also safely drive back to your place and guide you into your dorm.

"I'll go in myself," you protested against him as you crossed the threshold, his hands holding onto you firmly.

"You can barely walk properly, Y/N,"

"I'm just a little drunk," you defended, earning an amused snort from Jake who was entirely unconvinced by you. He eventually set you down onto the couch, wandering into the kitchen area and you didn't bother questioning, not when he came back with a glass of water.

"Here, drink," he handed you the glass of water that you downed in one go. You expected him to leave right after, but he didn't seem to be going anytime soon from the way he stayed glued to his spot next to you. "You alright?"

"I'll manage," you reassured, knowing how your roommate was going to have to put up with your hungover state the next morning. "You should go and get some sleep, you're playing tomorrow,"

"You're right," he stood up, though seemingly reluctant as he stared at your tipsy state. "Are you going to be okay alone?"

"Yes, I'll be! Now stop nagging," you followed suit to stand up, holding onto his arms for slight support. "I'm back home safely thanks to you and that's all that matters. Now, you, home, sleep, okay?"

Jake threw his head back, biting back a smile that was threatening to make its way to his face. "Okay. Who's the one nagging now?"

You pulled a look, punching his shoulder softly in a lighthearted manner. "Whatever," you murmured, excusing the rate of your heartbeat picking up. "You need to rest to score goals,"

"Goals? Why are you suddenly talking about goals?"

"I want to see you score,"

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, an imaginary light bulb flashed bright as an idea did in his head. "And if I score … will I get anything out of it?"

You caught on immediately, rolling your eyes with an incredulous smile. "Maybe an answer to a certain question,"

"Are you raising a bet with me, L/N?"

"Am I? It depends if you're up for it, Sim,"

"I'm always up for a challenge. A goal, a date,"

"You have my word."

Jake was soon out the door, your figure leaning on the doorframe for support as you bid him goodbye. "Good luck for tomorrow,"

"My heart will be at peace knowing you're going to be there. Come find me after the game … which I will score in,"

You stifled a laugh at his response. "I will,"

"Great, I'll see you then," Jake couldn't even hide his excitement from the way his face beamed. He acted nonchalant by shoving his hands into his pockets. "Goodnight,"

You smiled, "Goodnight." It was a daring move, but you took the chance of him being completely caught off guard to swiftly press a kiss on one side of his cheek. You didn't allow him to process this before closing the door, hiding the shade of burning scarlet on your cheeks.

Were you crazy? Yes. Were you starting to feel something more for Jake? Definitely.

"So … you and him are officially in the talking stage?"

It was the first time Wonyoung accompanied you and Anton to a hockey game. Her lack of interest in the sport didn't fathom neither of you, all you two needed was extra emotional support. So, now you were stuck gossiping instead.

"Something like that," you shrugged, eyes automatically landing on said talking stage who was warming up on the ice. This time around, Anton managed to score some good seats, though it wasn't front row, it was still considerably close.

"'Something like that'? Dude, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and you guys wouldn't stop texting, you're literally advancing at this point," Anton crossed his arm, shifting in his seat.

"You did what? Since when did you get so bold?"

"Since I got drunk. I swear I wasn't in my right mind,"

"Drunk words are sober thoughts, or in your case, drunk actions, that was probably what you've always wanted to do," Anton chipped in, earning a nudge from you.

"And you still haven't given an answer to that date yet? It's been almost a week and it's the weekend already," It was Wonyoung's turn to cross her arm and stare accusingly at you. Guilty. If only they knew the secret bet you had with Jake too.

"Don't worry, I've made up my mind," you, in fact, officially did make up your mind the night you went to bed screaming into your pillows at your action. It was a blessing he hadn't intruded on your dreams or else you'd be doomed.

"Well, what is it?" Wonyoung egged on, but all you did was smile deviously at her.

"I'll tell you after I give him my answer, but I think you'd already know it."

There was no mistake that Jake had spotted you in the crowd multiple times. The first time he glanced over, you thought it was a mere coincidence, but when there was a second, third and fourth time, you knew it wasn't. You didn't miss that lingering smile on his lips each time he spared a glance in your direction. If he kept going on, you felt your heart was about to burst.

The first period started with a bang. It was barely a few seconds in when the home team already got possession of the puck, Jake playing a big role in it. As if on cue, Jake was the one leading the possession, swerving past the opposition's defence line. Before you knew it, the puck was at the back of the net, a goal by Jake was scored under a minute.

Naturally, you and your friends jumped out of your seats in celebration. You, however, were hiding a bark of laughter once you remembered the bet you made with Jake. He really had something to prove to you, didn't he? To rub it into your face much more, Jake just had to skate past your section and purposely blow a kiss at your direction.

It wouldn't be Jake if he didn't have more tricks hidden under his sleeves, which explained why in another minute, a second goal from him was scored. At that point, you were both shocked and amused, realising how you should probably not second question his determination and dedication to securing a date with you. Two goals in two minutes, there was no denying his utmost desperation was apparent.

The first and second period soon ended with the home team leading. It was a pretty laid back game all thanks to Jake's contributions, so once the third period came around, everyone wasn't on the edge of their seats as much as before. It didn't excuse the surprises that continued to ensue time after time, the next one included Jake.

The clock was ticking and the atmosphere was gradually getting intense. The sounds of hockey sticks clashing into one another to win over the puck was loud, the home team succeeded in taking possession. That possession was soon passed onto Jake who quickly speeded past the oppositions. In a blink of an eye and a swift movement of his hockey stick, the puck was in the back of the opposition's net.

The crowd in the stands erupted into shouts of joy, pieces of popcorn flew into the air, drinks were flying everywhere, but nobody cared. You and your two best friends jumped out of your seats at once, shouting and hollering madly. The team on the ice was equally high on energy too, every player was jumping on Jake, but there was no mistaking his eyes being trained on you even if you were a distance away.

You expected him to turn away right after, but he never averted his attention on you. In a place full of people, you felt as though the lights were focused on you and him only. The camera zoomed in on him which was displayed on the jumbotron screen showing his smiling face, only then he turned his gaze onto the camera, blowing a kiss. This action managed to get many screams, but what came next was unexpected. He held up a gesture with his hand and it was clearly the first letter of your name.

Jake turned to look back at your direction, showing the letter of your name gestured by his hand proudly. Just from seeing his beaming expression, you found yourself smiling too, unable to resist his charms till the point where your friends were staring at you dumbfounded at the side. Frankly, no man has ever made you smile this way, ever.

"Did he—" Anton glanced at Wonyoung who looked back at him with a rather nonchalant expression compared to his confused one.

"Dedicate a goal to her? Yeah," it was something everyone could see, even if they didn't know you personally, they'd know Jake was dedicating it to a specific someone. "I wish a talking stage of mine would do this too,"

Anton shook his head. "Dream on, Wony."

Once the game was over, you sent him a text to meet you at the same location you bumped into him, aka somewhere along the food stalls. You took your time hanging around with your friends until you got a response back saying he's on the move, until then your friends decided to leave first and you were left with multiple 'good luck's from them.

Thankfully, by the time you got there it was mostly empty and there wasn't any crowd, because the last thing you needed was someone overhearing. It didn't take long for Jake to arrive after you did. His hair was still wet from the shower, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," he said casually, stopping right before you. "I didn't keep you waiting, right?"

"Nope, you didn't," you shook your head, pursing your lips. "Great game, by the way,"

"Thanks," Jake's hand travelled to the back of his neck, a small tinge of red making its way to his cheeks. He was shy, especially since you were inadvertently hinting at the celebration that came after the goal.

You smiled, but the nervous habit of fidgeting your ring betrayed your rather nonchalant expression. It wasn’t supposed to be something so scary, yet it’s a much needed step in your talking stage with him. “Yes,” That wasn’t exactly how you wanted to execute it, here you were making a fool out of yourself instead.

Jake tilted his head to the side in confusion, almost looking like those golden retriever puppies you’d seen online. “What?” If it wasn’t for your shamelessness and determination in that moment, you’d have already ran away from the embarrassment.

“Yes, I’d like to go on a date with you. That’s my answer and also a part of our bet,”

Jake’s lips parted, the initial confusion morphed into surprise which he soon fully digested and that realisation resulted in the biggest smile that crept its way onto his face. You couldn’t help but find his reaction endearing, laughing softly. "Nice goals,"

"Thanks. Does that mean I get three dates now?"

It was easy to laugh around Jake, there was something freeing and warm about his presence. There was a feeling you experienced only with him, you didn't know what it was, but you wished to be able to have it all the time. "Take me out on one date first then we'll decide,"

Jake laughed quietly, looking away to avoid your eyes, because to him, one more glance at you was about to make his heart burst in nervousness. It took a few seconds for Jake to gather his composure back. He was the complete opposite compared to the person he was making that bet with you, shy and cheeky, unlike the confident and suave person he was from that night, the stark difference was what warmed your heart.

The obvious giddiness of his was eventually masked by an attempt in casualness. "I–tomorrow, seven, I'll pick you up,"

"Sounds good,"

"Great. Amazing," Jake mindlessly said, unable to take his starry eyes away from you. It looked as if Jake was completely enamoured by you from the way he stared at you with fascination. Whatever was going on between you and him then, it was some kind of love that was undeniably innocent.

Almost in a single blink, Jake snapped out of it, somehow being self aware as a shade of pink painted his cheeks at the realisation of his own thoughts. "It's getting late, how about I take you back to your dorms?"

"That'd be great, thank you." you suddenly felt shy under his gaze, the thoughts in your mind were yelling at your heart to stop beating so quickly.

Under the bleak night sky, you and Jake made your way back to your dorms with the stars as an additional companion. For the first time in forever, you found yourself wishing the night would never end and the road stretched further just so you could listen to his laughter for another minute. Falling in love was scary, but realising it was another story.

"It's been three hours and you still haven't made up your mind yet?"

Calling Wonyoung over and having her help you in getting ready was actually just her seeing you entering your demise as you overthink every little single detail. The outfit you chose had been changed over and over again till the point where Wonyoung was exhausted just by watching you do so.

"I haven't been on a date in ages, cut me some slack," you groaned, sitting down on the edge of your bed in defeat. "Plus, I think what's different about this date compared to the others is that I actually like him,"

"You—what?" Wonyoung practically scooted over in a hurry to join your side, purposely looking at you in shock.

"What?"

"You admitted it. You never do, amd it's only been a week,"

"Didn't need you to call out my emotional avoidant issues but yeah, I do like him. Well, not like 'like' him, confession kinda level yet. It's getting there but I think there's probably a chance," you sighed in defeat, basically raising your hands up in surrender, liking someone could be ever so thrilling but also an emotion filled rollercoaster. "He's sweet, genuine, funny, cute, everything a girl could ever dream of, it's no surprise how he's so easy to love. But I just hope I'm not another one of the girls in his roster,"

"Hey!" Wonyoung nudged you hard in the ribs, you sat up straight, head snapping to see her disapproving frown. "You're not, okay? I doubt he even has one from what I heard,"

"What?"

"I did some digging and from what my sources claimed, he hasn't been seeing anyone since his last break up, which was over a year ago. Not like the ones on his team, okay? They're fucking everywhere and he's been practising celibacy, alright?" Wonyoung's reassurance might've been slightly lighthearted, but it still held a certain weight to it. "Don't think too much. Are Anton's words getting to your head?"

"Well, no, but you already know my traumatic experiences with guys like him," by that you meant your exes and past dates, who were coincidentally friends of Anton's and the reason how you got to know them in the first place, also explaining why you doubt your best friends' judgement at times. Dating in the 21st century was tough. "I'm just saying. It feels too good to be true,"

"Or maybe it's because he likes you for who you are. You're you. Don't care about him being some hot shot hockey player, in the end, he's the one who wants a date with you."

You replayed Wonyoung's words as you waited for Jake to turn up at your doorstep, the clock ticking close to seven. As much as you had a great time getting to know him throughout the week, you couldn't help but have doubtful thoughts. He was Jake, the star player of the hockey team, there were probably many girls on campus dying to be in your spot right now.

Maybe Wonyoung was right, Anton's words were getting to you. You shook the badgering thoughts from your mind once you heard the doorbell ringing, all of the doubts disappeared the moment you opened your door to see a nicely dressed Jake Sim, who had a small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Jake stared at you, his eyes sweeping over your body, lips parting in what you think was awe. The black dress Wonyoung picked really was the best choice it seemed. "Wow," he breathed out, pressing one hand on his chest. "You look like a dream,"

If what people described as having butterflies fluttering in your abdomen was exactly how you felt when he said that, they were probably right. You could feel the heat rushing up to your cheeks, painting them a light shade of pink. It was cliche, something typical a man would say, but somehow when it came to him, it had an effect on you.

"Thank you. You look handsome too," you smiled at him, momentarily getting distracted by the first few buttons of his button down shirt that was undone. It was most likely on purpose, wasn't it?

"Thank you," he bit back his smile from becoming wider, then raised his arm which held onto the flowers. "I got you flowers,"

You raised an eyebrow at him, both pleased and surprised. It might've been a simple act, but it was certainly a way to your heart. "You really know how to charm me, don't you?" You accepted them and quickly ran to place them on the counter, mentally noting to store them away later.

"I have my secret ways to get to your heart," he slipped his hands into his pockets, watching you make your way out and offered you his hand, which you gladly took. "And today, there's going to be another one that will lead me there,"

"I'm intrigued."

The car ride was quite longer than you had expected. It was a good thing that the whole journey wasn't filled with complete silence. Here and there, either Jake or you would tell the other about something going on in your lives, sometimes even the most random things too. The occasional silence wasn't awkward at all. With him, you realised the silences were always comfortable, as if his presence was what made everything reassuring.

The car eventually came to a stop at a building. You prayed it wasn't some shady building you were about to get abducted in, but knowing Jake, it should be the complete opposite of so. He held the door open for you at all times, even the car door, such small gestures made you smile secretly and your heart skipping. It was quite a torture, however, for his hand to brush against yours but never once intertwining. Maybe it was because he didn't wish to go against your boundaries and you were also too shy to suggest it, so either of you were left being stuck in agony hoping the distance between would disappear.

The elevator reached the top in no time. You were rather relieved, the tension in the whole journey up was palpable. It was obvious the both of you were aware of it, the only problem was no one dared to act on it. From Jake's frequent glances and his intense gaze, you knew his hand was itching to reach out for yours.

You were surprised at what Jake had planned once you stepped out of the elevator and into a restaurant with open air. It was a rooftop dining restaurant. Jake didn't bother to hide his knowing smile even as the server led you both to a reserved table.

"Dinner and sunsets," Jake smiled cheekily at you, seemingly looking proud of himself and the idea behind this location.

You narrowed your eyes at him lightheartedly. How could he have known that this was an ideal date of yours? "How did you know?"

Jake paused, then he shrugged, feigning casualness that you knew was the opposite of his true feelings currently. "I have my sources," Anton. Again.

You snorted at the common phrase you've grown to understand, shaking your head at the thought of Jake constantly pestering your best friend for information. Yet, it wasn't exactly a bad thing. Knowing Jake would frequently ask your friends about you and your likings showed his efforts. Plus points.

"I've never had someone put this much thought into a date with me before,"

Jake's gaze softened following your words, the littlest of the edges of his lips curled upwards. He let out a small endearing laugh and looked down a second to hide it. "I just hope you'll get to enjoy this date to the max. It's all about you after all,"

"Of course I will! The restaurant's amazing, the view over the city is too perfect. The fact that we'll get to watch the sunset in a while too? Ten out of ten,"

"I'm glad. You have no idea how much panic and anxiety I had planning this out,"

It was your turn to smile, the image of Jake being all panicked asking Anton to try and plan a perfect date was absolutely fitting to what you expected. "I wouldn't mind even if you took me to a seven eleven to eat cup noodles together if it meant we got to spend time together,"

You didn't know what it was exactly hidden behind Jake's expressions. He was resisting the urge to smile wider, the look of appreciation and adoration flashed across his eyes expressed otherwise. "I guess that's going to be our next date. I still have another two, don't I?"

"I don't remember that being in our deal exactly," you tilted your head and felt your heart beating with an increased tempo, accepting the effect he has on you by now. "But I don't mind seeing you more actually. Maybe I can promise you more than two dates,"

A look of relief was evident on Jake's face, he smirked in disbelief at you almost causing his heart to stop thinking you didn't want more than this one date. He was wrong, so wrong to doubt you. "Scared me for a second, thought you wanted this to be your one and very last date with me,"

"How could I? The restaurant's not the only reason I'll enjoy this date, you know? It's because of you," you averted your eyes away for a moment, suddenly scared to meet his gaze and the intensity of it. "You're the main reason, Jake,"

Once your confession had escaped your lips after holding it in for a suffocating amount of time, you realised you were not only professing something that was blossoming, but also gradually opening up to him, being completely honest and vulnerable while speaking your mind. It was odd. You've only known him for a week, but it was the most you've ever felt for a man you were romantically involved with. Maybe the part where he kissed you before you even knew one another played a role in the speed of your feelings' development, but you rather not come to terms with that.

There was another side of you which bugged you negatively. You had a feeling falling so fast for somewhere could eventually lead to a dismay. Some of your friends were evidence you could attest to, the amount of tears shed onto your sleeve was enough of a memory for you to recall. It was also a lesson on not moving too fast that you learnt. Were you going to get your heart broken?

But, the heart does want what it wants. You were a victim of listening to your heart over your head, and so were your friends who would tell you the same continuously. Seeing the man opposite you being completely stunned at what you said made the thoughts in your head panic. Oh God, did he not feel the same? Were you the one moving too fast and misreading the room instead? You turned away to look at the view of the city as a way to avoid his gaze, your heart feeling as if it was about to explode at any minute.

The view before you was exactly what you were feeling at that moment. The golden orange mixed with a pale pink painted your emotions of a complicated longing and attraction towards Jake, the softness of the colours were exactly how you felt for him, adoration and affection. "Pretty," you said mindlessly as you watched the sunset.

Jake followed your sight to take in the beauty of the sunset over the city, smiling to himself before turning back to look at you, taking the chance while you were paying him no mind. If only you could see the amount of pure fondness in his eyes which travelled to the corners of your face under the reflection of the orangey pink sunset. "Pretty,"

In that exact moment, it was a scene out of a movie and you weren't even aware of it. The hidden intimacy of it all was something you couldn't find reciprocating with someone else. That was mainly because Jake wasn't just someone to you.

You pushed the whole load of thoughts going around in your mind to play a little game of twenty questions with Jake. It was probably not the best idea, but it was also a convenient way to get to know someone. You soon learned that Jake had a dog back in Australia and he played football before getting into hockey, which explained why he held onto the jersey number five for a long time. His favourite colour was black, spring was his favourite season and that grape was his favourite flavour. There were many occurrences in which you and Jake yelled 'me too' in between the things you two revealed about yourselves. There was one out of many you two shared a belief in: love at first sight.

You were surprised at how compatible you and him were. There were slight differences but also a lot of similarities between you both. Maybe it was fate for you to find someone that fits you like a puzzle. Throughout the dinner, everything was going smoothly with nothing but laughter and interesting conversations to go with your food. That was until a foreign voice came towards your table.

"Jakey!" The familiar voice you've encountered once during the party came from behind you. You could tell by the smile faltering from Jake's face that he was not happy with the appearance of this person. Actually, it wasn't just one, there were multiple.

"Jaeyun!" There came another and soon the three stars of the hockey team appeared by your table. At first, their attention was all on Jake, their precious best friend and teammate. But judging from Jake's death glare, they only got the gist once they noticed your presence there, taking them a second to process everything.

"Hey guys," you greeted with a pinch of uncertainty, but you wanted to be nice and it would be rude not to greet them.

"Y/N," they acknowledged you in unison, their glances going back and forth between you and Jake. "Looking good," Heeseung added, followed by a hum of agreement from the other two. This only earned a sharp jap on the side from Jake.

"Thank you," you covered your smile with your hand, the urge to burst into full blown laughter was getting strong.

Looking at the knowing smirks appearing on every one of their faces, you knew all of them were sharing the same amount of brain cells which had identical thoughts. "Are you guys on a … date?" Sunghoon, the rather cheeky one, was the first to ask.

"Yes, we are, and you guys are crashing it," Jake narrowed his venomous eyes at his best friends, his gaze were enough to convey a message: he was going to strangle them to death after the date. "Why are you guys even here?"

"Well, Heeseung kinda overheard you asking Anton about a good restaurant or something like that, then he told Jay and Jay told me, so we thought it'd be nice to check it out on the same day you're going," Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck, realising how awkward this whole situation was.

At that point, Jake was rubbing his temples as if his head was about to burst at any second. The three hockey players turned to look at you for help, to you, they were almost like three helpless puppies who were about to be scolded. "We're sorry," Jay immediately gripped the other two by their shoulders, "and we're going to get out of your hair now. Enjoy your date, bye!" He rushed his words out then instantly dragged Sunghoon and Heeseung away, their hushed whispers audible until they eventually disappeared as a whole.

You turned over your shoulder to see their retreating figures until they were completely out of sight. You had to stifle your laugh as you turned back, seeing Jake shake his head before he met your eyes, cracking a small and rather embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that. I didn't know they were going to appear,"

"You don't need to be sorry. I think it's funny they made a sudden appearance and it definitely took me by surprise—in a good way. Plus, it's cute they came here wanting to join you thinking you were alone,"

The initial annoyance and embarrassment melted from Jake's expressions, he smiled with full genuinity, chuckling lightly. "Yeah, it was,"

You leaned your front against the table, placing your head onto your palm for support. "So, you asked Anton about me, your 'source'," you began carefully, "how long has it been going on?"

Jake flushed a light shade of pink that matched the hues of the sunset from earlier. He let out a cough then masked it with a lopsided smile in embarrassment that you had caught him straight on. "Ever since I found out you were friends,"

You couldn't stop yourself from grinning at his truthful confession. "I figured,"

"You did?" He tilted his head in curiosity and surprise. You supposed it was normal for some men to be oblivious.

"It's not hard to catch on, Jake. I only have two close friends," you poked light fun, though in reality it was pretty much the truth and you were not going to talk about that.

"Two close friends? What about me?"

You shrugged, surpressing the laughter that was on the edge of escaping your lips. "Well, yes, but you're more than just a friend to me,"

Jake's eyes lit up, a twinkling sparkle decorated his pupils. However, his playful grin said otherwise. "Best friend?"

"Get out."

Other than the cameo of Jake's friends, the rest of the date has been relaxing and calm, going smoothly as you continued on with more jokes and throwing fun facts about yourselves. The person you saw on ice was a contrary compared to the one sittinf opposite you. Although he was much rougher and aggressive on ice, even till the point where it landed him several suspensions, you knew he wasn't like that. He showed you his true, softer side with nothing but honesty and trust. There was only mutual respect and truth between you two, that was how easy it was to be with him.

By the time you got back to your dorm room, it was already past midnight. Time was no longer a concept when it came to being with Jake. Neither you nor him realised how late it was until the servers told you they were closing soon, being completely immersed in each others' presence and conversation to even pay attention to your surroundings. Jake had walked you to the door of your dorm room, the exact spot where he probably stood knocking your door earlier.

"Thanks for tonight. I don't think I'd ever forget about … everything. The sunset, your friends—" you smiled at that moment when Jake snorted when his friends were mentioned, "and you,"

The grin he had on his face faltered a little, his eyebrows raising and head tilting slightly. "Me?"

You couldn't tell him the truth. The sight of him with the sunset was when you realised your heart was feeling for him more than you could control. It was as if your heart was speaking for you. The hues of the evening sunset painted his face with a slow glow when he was watching it unfold before you, it was then you looked over at him and felt your heart stop. He was beautiful, his smile was something you wished was embedded in your mind even when you closed your eyes.

Instead, you hid the truth. "You put so much effort into planning this whole date till the point where you asked Anton about me. I'm grateful that you cared this much, it's something I'll never forget,"

The smile on his delicate features only grew wider, the light tinge of pink was making its way to his cheeks. "I'll never forget about this too, our first date. I never knew I could feel this way,"

"What way?"

"In a way where I feel too much, and I feel like my heart is about to burst at any moment just watching you," Jake bit his tongue, stopping himself from letting all his inner thoughts pour out and overwhelm you, the last thing he needed was you running into your dorm and never see him again. Little did he know you would do the opposite of that.

"I feel the same too," it was your turn to confess your truth. From the looks of Jake's reaction, that was probably the last thing he expected as a response which reciprocated his thoughts. You couldn't help chuckling softly at his expressions, he was definitely someone who had a rich set of reactions for each situation.

"Do you want to know what I think we should do next time?" There was an edge of humour in his tone, you didn't know what he was going to say next. You narrowed your gaze at him, particularly at the way he said it. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yeah, why? Is it something dirty?" You scrunch your face up, shooting daggers at him.

"It's disgusting," he punctuated, pausing for a few seconds after. "I think we should go on another date sometime, go bowling or whatever, get some ice cream,"

The glint in his seemingly mischievous looking stare met the roll of your eyes. He snickered at your reaction and you almost punched his shoulder out of spite. "You idiot," there was no chance of you hiding the growing smile, "I'd love to. It's a no brainer,"

Jake smiled in relief, breathing out a sigh. "I'll hold you to it," he snapped his fingers. There was a short pause, realising something shifted in the air ever since the moment you and him both confessed each of your inner thoughts.

You took the chance to divert the conversation away in an attempt to make everything less awkward. "You should head back already, it's late. Thanks for driving me back. I'll text you, okay?"

"Right," Jake said rather mindlessly, the gears in his head seemingly turning and still stuck on the conversation a few steps back.

"Goodnight, Jake," your hand was on the doorknob, giving it a twist to open your door, but you didn't walk in just yet.

"No goodnight kiss?" Jake said teasingly before you could even take a step past the threshold. The slight raise in his eyebrows and the smirk on his face was what made you recalled Anton's words of them having fuckbiy tendencies. Well, there was that side of him.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "Nice try, I'm not intoxicated this time, Jake. Maybe I'll give you one on our next date—just maybe," you sent him a blowing kiss, which he caught as you closed your door shut, the sound of his sweet laughter was audible enough for you to feel a smile mindlessly making its way to your lips.

You hoped this would never end. The feeling of overwhelming joy, the giddiness as if you were a teenage girl all over again, the pure emotions of liking someone. All of this, you wished it would have a fortunate outcome.

Days turned into weeks where weeks turned into months. The time you've known Jake was no longer just a week, but months now. During those months you've spent together, there were countless of dates he brought you out on. Amusement park, cinema, ice skating rink, roller skate rink, the list of location went on and on. At that point, there was nothing but transparency between you two given the amount of time spent with each other. He wasn't just becoming your best friend, but also someone your heart was yearning for. By then, all your negative overthinking thoughts from the first date had completely vanished. Wonyoung was right, you thought too much.

Over the months, he has been proving to you that he was just a loser in disguise, you were saying this with full affection, of course. The initial fuckboy reputation that everyone claimed him to be just because he was part of the hockey team proved the complete opposite. He was probably a victim of rumours, stereotypes and generalisation.

"Aim better!"

It was one of those weekends reserved for date nights between you and Jake. It was a little something special that you and him shared. This had become a tradition before you even realised. The bowling alley nearby became the talk of the conversation about your next date not long before and here you were now, beating him while he continued to sigh in defeat.

"I am! You can't just say that while you're here winning. How are you so good at this?" He was gripping onto the bowling ball tightly, his eyes trained on the pins ahead of him. "I didn't know there was this side of you. You should consider a career in bowling," his aim definitely didn't land right when all he managed to do was knock two pins down. "I give up,"

"Don't be a sore loser here," one throw of the bowling ball from you showed Jake your true talents when every one of the pins came knocking down.

He turned to face you while still standing in his own lane, hands on his hips with a look of disbelief and admiration. "You know what, that's probably one of the hottest things I've seen,"

You screwed your face up, letting out a snort. "Your switch up is crazy,"

Jake threw his hands up in mock defence, shrugging. "Hey, I might've not win in bowling but I did win here with you by my side,"

Him and his words. He sure knew how to work them to his advantage and make you flustered. You turned away from him to hide your grin, the bowling ball in your hold suddenly feeling ten times heavier. "You're such a tease, Sim,"

He picked up a bowling ball too, contrary to his claims of giving up earlier. At your response, he laughed lightheartedly, giving it a few seconds before speaking again, as if to let everything soak in. "Just speaking the truth, sweets."

The next and last location to end the night of competitive bowling was the ice cream shop down the street. In classic Jake style, he got the flavour with the most complicated and weirdest name out there just for it to be chocolate, whereas you got a simple strawberry flavour. Strawberry and chocolate, a match made in heaven which represented you and him coincidentally. How cliche.

Amidst the silent exchange of reactions to each of your ice creams, Jake placed down his cup after taking one small scoop. "I have something to propose,"

You paused, glanced at him with suspicion before halting your actions completely. "What is it?"

"Be my plus one for Sunghoon's birthday party,"

You displayed some apprehension. "Is it some crazy frat party like the one you brought me to last time?"

Jake let out an amused sounding snort, then shook his head. "The opposite—"

"Thank God," you breathed out a sigh of relief.

Jake, however, looked rather offended. Maybe because the party was his hockey team's pre-game party. "Hey! The party I brought you to wasn't that bad,"

"It's the most beer and shots I've consumed in a night. I would say I'm lucky for having a solid tolerance but I'd also rather not think about the morning after,"

Jake smiled at that. You didn't know if it was simply because you brought up a past memory or that memory reminded him of your certain actions that night. Either way, you didn't miss his sly smile. "Okay, okay. There's no frat parties at all for Sunghoon's birthday, don't worry. We're going to throw a dinner party at our place and that's all. Pretty simple,"

Your face lit up at the idea of a birthday party, contrasting the look you had minutes ago thinking it was going to be another party with sweaty frat boys. "Wait, that's actually so cute. Count me in,"

"Really?"

"Really. When is it?"

"Next Saturday,"

"You know exactly when to pick me up."

It wasn't even Saturday yet when Jake turned up on your doorstep unannounced in the middle of the week. He had an unapologetic smile, a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand and a box of donuts in the other. The confusion on your face to the unamused stance you had while staring at him was enough of a response on your part. Look, you liked Jake, but whoever ruins your sleep at nine in the morning was not an exception when it came to you cursing them out.

"Is this a courtship or a bribe?" You leaned your side against the doorframe, doing anything but inviting him at that moment.

"Both?" He shrugged, the awkward twist of his smile told you he had an explanation ready,

"Come in," you moved your body away to let the starry eyed Jake in, a certain plan he had concocted was soon to be revealed. "Had breakfast yet?"

"I did. But I know you haven't had breakfast, so I got you donuts," he nodded at the box in his hand, then raised his other hand that held onto the bouquet. "And flowers. I know the last one I got you is wilting," he pointed over at the vase sitting on the counter, the previous bouquet he got you on your date was indeed slowly wilting. How did he know? You didn't ask that.

You watched Jake's movements as he set the box and bouquet down onto the table, standing in a stance which reminded you of your mother when you were in trouble. "What brings you here at nine in the morning on a Thursday, Jake? I thought you had practice and I thought I would have extra sleep,"

Jake flashed you a sheepish smile, rubbing his forearm out of habit. "That got cancelled, so I wanted to take the chance to run an errand I've been holding off. This errand, however, requires your help,"

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "My help? What could it possibly be?"

The question you asked was answered when Jake drove you to a mall nearby. Turns out, he didn't know what he should get for Sunghoon's birthday, which was just in a few days. Not to mention, they were anything but prepared for the party. So, a trip to the mall with your guidance was a way to lessen Jake's bundle of worries.

"You said Sunghoon needed what?"

"A new bottle of aftershave," Jake trailed off with a hint of uncertainty, but also some embarrassment.

"Right," you nodded slowly, scrunching your nose up at the choice of gift Jake wanted to pick out, but alas, he knew Sunghoon better than you did so who were you to judge? "What else?"

"I already ordered him a Mitch Marner jersey, so I think that's all? Oh—I need to get him this thing,"

You were puzzled, but at that point, you didn't wish to question his interesting choices of a gift. "Which is?"

"A penguin plushie."

It seemed this gift was something Jake had in mind for ages as he found his way with no fault to a toy store and knowing exactly which aisle to go to in search for the penguin plushie. With a bottle of aftershave, a penguin plushie and a soon to be delivered hockey jersey, that was Sunghoon's gift from Jake. Next on the list was party decorations.

"Do you know what party decorations we're supposed to get?" Jake said with uncertainty as you walked past aisles of colourful decorations, only getting overstimulated by the bright colours and overwhelming amount of choices to choose from.

"I've done many things but a birthday party? This is a first," you sighed, grabbing some tinsels that got approval by Jake with a nod of his head.

"I blame them for putting me in charge of decoration. I want to get the cake instead," Jake sulked rather pitifully next to you, and instead, you snicker silently, which was received by a huff from him.

The trip to the mall ended with a bag of gifts and another bag full of decorations. Maybe you and him went a little overboard on the decorations, but Jake justified that it's reusable—well, except for the letter balloons which spelled Sunghoon's name.

Jake and you stopped by the small apartment he shared with his friends before dropping you off back home. It was probably your fourth time entering the apartment he lived in and it was also the fourth version of the house you last remembered. There was a new painting, several pieces of furniture shifted, and a whole lot of laundry stacked on the couch.

Not that you were intimidated by the ever changing interior till the point where you didn't drop by his place compared to the times he came over to yours, it's just the last time you were here, the memory wasn't quite a favourable one. Let's just say, it was another recreation of your first date where the three of his friends joined your supposed movie date, but there was something they lacked that time around: self awareness. That only resulted in you and Jake cuddling rather stiffly listening to three of them rambling about the movie's theories.

"Thanks for coming along with me today," Jake held onto a chair once everything was set aside, the two of you standing close to the door and being the sole presence there at that hour.

"It's no problem. I'm glad I could be of help even though I'm pretty sure you already had everything in plan, didn't you?"

"I'll look stupid if I admit that this was a plan to just get some time with you, won't I?" Jake slipped his hands into his pockets, glancing at the floor for a second with a small smile. "I genuinely needed your input, though. I'm sure the party will go well with your opinions,"

"It better go well, or else me getting woken up early and also getting bribed will all be in vain," you said in a lighthearted manner, eliciting a quiet laugh from Jake, and because of that, you were unable to resist a smile creeping onto your lips. "Trust me, I look more stupid for willingly sacrificing my sleep so that I can let you pull me into whatever scheme you have,"

There was a mutual spark that lighted in between. The weight of both yours and Jake's words carried something more than you had anticipated. It was evident that there was a change of atmosphere in that room, in that split second. Realisation clicked at the end of your sentence, both by you and Jake.

The momentary silence was broken by Jake. "I can't seem to find my words, but I know what my heart wants,"

You inhaled a small, sharp breath, eyes flickering. "What is it?"

"To kiss you,"

You shouldn't feel nervous, right? That was what you thought then but whatever you were feeling was betraying your thoughts. Was he going to kiss you? No, he was holding back, and that was obviously torturous not only to him but you. You wanted him to kiss you. "Then do it. Kiss me,"

You've never been braver until this moment. Never in a lifetime would you have expected those words to leave your lips. Congratulations to Jake for being the first man to get you to do so, but God, you were going insane and you were lucky your knees hadn't given out.

Jake took a step closer to you, his hands were by his side now. The steps were daring, testing the waters. You gave a green light by staying unmoving, the quiver of your lips were a sign of anticipation and anxiety. It was happening. Your official first kiss with him. An actual kiss after months.

At that point, he was standing so close to you, you could almost feel his breath on your face. The cologne he wore daily filled your senses, his warmth you got used to was giving you a quiet assurance like a hug. He could just kiss you now if he wanted to, but why couldn't he? Maybe he was taking his time. He was staring all over your face, as if memorising every little detail of it.

The moment his palm made its way to your cheek was when you knew you were far too deep to escape. You ignored the quickening pace of your heart and the wobble in your knees, then closed your eyes and waited with hope.

It never came. The feeling of his lips never touched yours. Instead, the sound of the front door bursting open and the shouts of several familiar voices came crashing into your reality.

"We're home!" The voice belonged to Heeseung, seemingly still unaware of everything. "We saw shoes out front—oh," realisation.

It was then you snapped your eyes wide open, pushing yourself away from Jake before you could form any coherent thought. Jake's expressions matched the one you had on your face: panic and shock. You stayed staring at each other for a few solid seconds until you figured you were, in fact, not dreaming of the voices and that his friends were actually standing there.

"I—were we—did we—interrupt—" Jay stuttered out, the horrors on both his and Heeseung's faces would've been comical if only you weren't stuck in this situation yourself.

"No!" The word escaped both yours and Jake's lips at the same time, in the same tone and manner. You turned to look at him and he did the same, then you faced his friends again.

Jake heaved a sharp breath, pupils shaking visibly. "Well, I was just about to grab my keys to drop Y/N home," he snatched his car keys from the table without thinking twice, the awkward tension in the room was suffocating.

"Yeah, we were about to leave …" you trailed off at the lie you made up. Nope, you weren't about to leave, you were about to kiss Jake. Oh, Anton and Wonyoung were going to love this story.

"Should we…?" Jake glanced at you, the red lights practically blaring in those pairs of brown eyes. You got his cry for help and nodded, because you, too, were calling out for help internally.

"We should, yeah, we definitely should. I'll see you guys at the party." you waved a quick and stiff goodbye then grabbed your stuff, following Jake out the door. Only when you were outside wearing your shoes, you got the chance to breathe out a breath of relief. You didn't know what was about to happen in that house or after Jake returned, but all you could guess was them being as panicked as you were.

On the drive home, it was rather quiet. Whether it was the lasting awkwardness from earlier or the avoidance of the topic, you didn't know. You could feel his occasional glances at you, yet he didn't dare to act on it and somehow, you felt disappointed after every one of them.

You thought by the end of the drive, you'd be silently leaving his car with no words exchanged. However, Jake wasn't one to leave it at that, nor was he someone to let you go that easily. He grabbed onto your hand before you could reach for the handle, halting you in the midst of your actions.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he let go of your hand from his hold as you sat back into the cushioned seat of his car, the flickering of his eyes gave his nervousness away. "I can't believe it happened again,"

You cracked a small, humorous smile at the mention of you and him getting interrupted for a second time by his friends. At that point, you believed it was just fate that intervened. "It's okay, Jake, really. The timing wasn't perfect, I suppose, and I get it,"

"Maybe," he hummed, unable to take his eyes away from you, which only made you want to sink into the seat further. He couldn't just do that after almost kissing you! It's not fair. "I'm frustrated,"

"At your friends?"

"At my friends, and at the fact that I couldn't kiss you,"

He was bold. It was something you never got used to, having no prediction of what he would say next. This was one of them.

"Yet," you added quite daringly, looking away to hide the shyness you were suddenly feeling.

"What?"

"You couldn't kiss me yet," you repeated, this time a little more confident than a minute ago. "There's always a next time, isn't there?"

Jake let out a small chuckle, throwing his head back slightly, the reddening tips of his ears betraying his current calm demeanour. The simplicity of your optimistic words made his heart jump at the unrelenting chances of another try. Second time could go right, can it? "Yeah, and I'll make sure there's no interruption during then, just the two of us."

You were thankful you declined Jake's offer of walking you up to your dorm room. Having him beside you in his car when he uttered those words so nonchalantly almost made you lose your mind. Even after you entered your room, you still felt the lingering feeling of his lips just like a ghost. Closing your eyes, you could almost feel his warmth around you swallowing you whole, the touch of his hand on your cheek burning.

Lying in bed, you thought of him the whole night as if he had infected your mind. It was then you realised what you felt months ago was different compared to now. Your feelings for Jake was no longer some simple crush, attraction or liking, it was something deeper. You liked him, but it was a kind of feeling where you felt yourself giving your heart to him with no doubts, the stars in your eyes only shining brightly for him. He was your universe.

God, how did you end up here? You had fallen deeply and helplessly.

On the evening of Sunghoon's birthday, you, Jake, and the rest of his friends along with some of their partners spent the last bit of time finalising all of the decorations before the birthday boy's arrival.

The near kissing incident with Jake was eventually swept under the rug. Maybe it did for you and him, but you could tell from Heeseung and Jay's faces that they were still suffering from the embarrassment when seeing you. You had a feeling Jake told them off after getting back that day.

Other than that, you were more relieved nothing was awkward or stiff between the two of you. Everything was well and the preparations for Sunghoon's birthday busied him enough to get his mind off the embarrassing yet intimate moment. The time you spent with him throughout the whole fiasco of planning did some salvaging.

"Do you think he'll like this colour?" Jake was anxiously looking at the time on his watch, noting Sunghoon's imminent arrival. Jay was out with Sunghoon to get him away from the house as long as he could.

"Jake, it's just yellow," you patted his shoulder in reassurance, unable to blame the guy for being a tad bit nervous for the first party he planned for his best friend.

"You're right—I hear his car in the driveway. Guys! Off the lights now!" Jake couldn't even get a single breath of peace when speaking of the devil, Sunghoon was home. He grabbed onto your arm, pulling you with him to hide behind the counter. The others were scurrying for the cake and you were thankful you weren't tasked to handle that.

Even though it wasn't your first time rehearsing this, the feeling of Jake holding tightly onto your wrist, his body pressing close to yours as you squatted behind the counters, all of them were the factors your heart was beating extremely fast. Not because of Sunghoon and the entirety of his surprise party, but Jake.

The heat emitting from his body shouldn't be making you flush red, should it? The scent of his woody cologne was concentrated, the closeness of his face and his obliviousness to it all was the cherry on top.

"I'm nervous," he whispered, the voices outside becoming louder as footsteps approached closer to the front door.

You flashed him an assuring smile, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's going to be fine. You have me,"

The undying spark in his eyes shined even in the darkness of the room. He gave your hand a squeeze back, tugging it closer to him. "I have you."

Jake's hand never left yours even when you and him jumped at the entrance of Sunghoon. Shouts echoed around the room as Sunghoon remained shocked whilst his friends wished him happy birthday. The cake was immediately carried towards him and everyone started singing the tune of the birthday song. All while everything was happening, the hand intertwined with yours was the only thing occupying your mind.

At the end of the night with Sunghoon drunk out of his mind and everyone else too tipsy to function properly, you were one of the few left sober. Surprisingly, Jake was among the few you mentioned. There on the sidewalk of his driveway you sat under the starlit sky, catching a moment of fresh air after the whole day's worth of running around.

"Can I join?" The voice you would anticipate hearing interrupted your daze, glancing up from the sidewalk to see Jake's smiling face.

"Always,"

He didn't say anything more but instinctively sat himself next to you, his shoulders brushing against yours created a spark that neither of you could ignore. There was a short pause of silence where you and him said nothing but just basked in each other's presence. It was one of those times where you communicated through your every microexpressions, barely saying anything audibly but also expressing everything needed.

"I have a question,"

You were the first to break the silence, taking a daring step.

"Shoot,"

"This is going to sound cliche, and a little stupid, but bear with me," you let your curiosity wander this time, maybe it was a spur of a moment feeling which gave you a sense of sudden vulnerability, you didn't know. "Why me?"

Jake turned to look at you. "What?"

"Why—out of many other girls on campus—you somehow ended up liking me and asking me out on a date?" Gosh, you knew how cliche it already sounded in your head, but to say it aloud was probably worse. You were thankful Jake wasn't walking away at the question. Instead, a smile twitched at the corners of his lips.

"It's a long story,"

"Oh God, it's not one of those movie scenes where you tell me it's all a bet and try to win me over after I get heartbroken, right?"

Jake let out an amused sounding chuckle, throwing his head back, a habit you noticed whenever he laughs at something humorous. "What is this? '10 Things I hate about you'? Thankfully no," he gave your shoulder a small bump with his, eliciting a quiet laugh from you this time.

"You might not remember this since it's been a while," he continued on with his story and you grew more curious. "But we actually met before that night you punched me,"

"What?"

Jake knew you wouldn't remember the memory he's bringing up currently, only smiling in response as he gave you a few seconds to process. "It's a little crazy, but we actually met on a Saturday evening. I can still remember it clearly. You were the person who offered me your umbrella on that rainy day when I was stranded outside the library building. I almost didn't make it to practice if it wasn't for you,"

He turned away from you, glancing up at the sky instead, the slight smile he had on his face maintained, never once faltering. "If I have to be fully honest with you, at that time when it happened, I was still quite heartbroken from my last break up even though months had passed since then, but seeing you … I felt something. The biggest regret was not talking to you when you already left, then somehow I found my way back to you,"

Your head was a mess scrambling to piece together Jake's story. Searching in every corner of your mind, you thought back to a rainy day, from there you looked further. The blurry memory of a guy appeared, the vague recollection of a face matched the one sitting next to you. It happened, it actually happened.

"You did," you whispered, your voice audible in the quiet night air. "Maybe there was an invisible string tying us together all along,"

"I usually don't believe in things like that, but for once, when it comes to you, I do believe it," Jake's gaze held a twinkle that resembled the stars on the night sky, his features was soft as he stared at you with a touch of gentleness you've never once seen.

"Can I be honest?" You held onto your breath, the speed of your heartbeat increasing. He was anticipating your words, looking at you expectantly. But you found yourself frozen for a moment. He was pretty, so pretty. Staring at him was enough to get you stumbling over your words. "No one has ever made me feel this much except for you,"

The unbreaking eye contact was intense. Once your confession left your lips, there was a shift in the atmosphere, the air was thick and laced with an electric spark. He was digesting every letter you uttered, the slight surprise morphed into a smile. The corners of your lips automatically followed along with his, stretching into a smile that you didn't know was Jake's favourite.

"I feel the same too," he edged his body a little closer, facing towards you more, all of which went unnoticed by you. "I want to be the only person who makes you feel this much, to make you smile, to make you laugh," he leant in closer, his face being barely illuminated by the street lamp, yet, you could see make out every little feature of his that you memorised. At that point, you knew it was happening, and there wasn't going to be any interruptions. You were determined for it to be that way.

One of Jake's hands reached for yours that rested on the pavement ground, taking it into his and intertwining his fingers with yours. You could read his emotions through his eyes, every detail of his expression told an emotion he was feeling currently. Anxious, but also thrilled. There were the two of you who felt the same at least. Then, he said it, the thought you two were simultaneously sharing.

"Can I kiss you?"

Finally.

You bit back a laugh and proceeded to do something you would've never dared to do until now. Without letting a second pass, you grabbed onto his shoulder clumsily and pressed your lips onto his, shutting your eyes with the feeling of your heart almost escaping your chest.

Would it be cliche to describe the entirety as a breath of fresh air? It took a split second for Jake to actually process your lips on him then only proceeded to kiss you back with the equal amount of gentleness, want and desire. Although this wasn't your first time kissing him given that moment in the hockey arena, it was the total opposite.

The initial shock and confusion disappeared immediately. Jake's hand travelled from the expanse of your cheek and disappeared into your hair. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss and Jake took that as a welcoming invitation. Safe to say you were about to think about this the whole night instead of falling asleep.

If there was a memory you wished to experience once more, it'd be this exact moment. The intoxicating touch of his and his familiar cologne scent that ingrained into your mind itself. You felt Jake smiling into the kiss seconds before pulling apart, the feeling of it made you experience overwhelming emotions that choked you, it was as if his smile was imprinted on your lips even after and you were unable to forget about it, instead, you craved it.

No one told you how it'd go down after a kiss. You and him both were there staring at one another in a daze, seemingly thinking 'did this happen?'. Well, it did, and you were reeling from it.

You were sure your lipstick was smudged, not to mention, the red marks left on Jake's lips gave it away clearly. Neither of you dared to move away from each other, keeping the close proximity in between. The loud music playing from the inside of the house eventually became more apparent once you gained full consciousness from the disassociation post kissing.

"I'm glad there's no cameras this time," Jake broke the silence, lighthearted and gentle with his words just as much as his kiss was.

You snorted, nudging him a little with your elbow. "And I'm glad no one walked in on us,"

There wasn't a word exchanged, a knowing look in one another's eyes which you read, and from that, you and him burst out laughing. If it wasn't for the fits of laughter which distracted you, you would've already been exploding from the realisation of Jake keeping your hands interlocked.

"If I have to be really honest with you right now, my heart is beating way too fast for it to be healthy. You're quite literally about the death of me," Jake said, completely stunned as he pressed a hand on his chest. He surely had a way with his words. "I could kiss you forever," there he's done it again, erupting butterflies in your abdomen.

"I'm not entirely objecting to that, so …" you shrugged playfully, meeting Jake's watchful gaze that was filled with nothing but softness and love.

He let out an amused chuckle, squeezing your interlocked hand with his. "I'll hold you to that."

The night eventually ended a little over midnight. It was entertaining to watch the three of Jake's best friends slurring their goodbyes to you, stumbling around trying to keep their balance but giving up and crashing onto the couch. Jake decided to leave them be and drive you back, taking the extra mile to walk you up to your doorstep.

"It was really fun tonight. Thanks for inviting me," you fidgeted with the sleeves of Jake's jacket that was draped around you, the quietness of the night only amplified your voices in the corridor.

"I'm glad you agreed to come and also helped me out on setting this up. I don't think I would've survived," Jake offered a lopsided smile, glancing down at the floor for a moment to hide his embarrassment.

"I'm happy to be of help," you were trying your best to contain your giddiness that was bubbling in your abdomen ever since your lips made contact with his. "I think Sunghoon will love his gifts … well, after he's sober,"

"He better likes it. I spent a shit ton amount of money on that jersey," Jake snorted, shaking his head, seemingly split between regret and indifference. "It's getting late, you should head on in,"

"Right, I should. Thanks for dropping me off, like always,"

"It's alright, I want to make sure you get home safe anyway," his heartwarming words definitely made your cheeks flush a tinge of pink, but you hid it away from him by fumbling with the lock of your door. Just before you could bid him the last goodbye of the night, he stopped you. "You forgot something,"

You tilted your head, eyebrows scrunched into a look of confusion. There was nothing you could think of that you've possibly forgotten. Wait, did he mean exactly what you were thinking of? You narrowed your eyes at him, a sly smirk on your face greeting him. "You're so annoying,"

It was his turn to be confused, but unfortunately for him, you didn't take note of that in time and he was left dumbfounded. In a blink of an eye, you pressed a haste kiss on his cheek. Jake thought he was dreaming. Even until then, you were unaware that he was surprised and frozen in shock, or just the plain fact that you and him both had a small misunderstanding.

"Goodnight, text me when you're home!" With that, the door slammed shut on his face before he had a chance to regain his composure and open his mouth to say something. He let out a breath of disbelief, his hand instinctively shot up to the spot where you placed a kiss on, grazing his finger faintly there.

"I mean the jacket." He murmured to himself, still in a daze as he turned around to make his way back.

He meant the jacket.

Sunghoon's birthday party had definitely become a turning point for you and Jake's relationship. Ever since that night, the both of you were inseparable. To your friends, however, it was insufferable instead. But, there was something very big and blaring in front of your face: he hasn't made anything official … yet? You tried reassuring yourself.

"You guys kissed, twice. He's not going to miss the chance of asking you to be his girlfriend officially. It's been almost a year," Wonyoung was pouring a drink that you needed from the amount of thoughts bugging you. Maybe going to a frat party was the least sane option of trying to take your mind off of it. "Think about it, for someone like him, he's surely thought about it before and he's probably planning something,"

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, considering. Wonyoung wasn't completely wrong, neither was Jake entirely dumb. "You're right, I'm probably thinking too much,"

Wonyoung threw her arm around your shoulders, leading you to somewhere less crowded. "It's completely valid, Y/N. I'd think the same. But don't worry, knowing Jake and how he's absolutely whipped for you, you'll be fine."

Will you? Given the past failed situationships you had that led you on to thinking you'd have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas absolutely tainted your view on talking stages. Not that Jake was just a talking stage, he was more than that, more than the ones that did you wrong. But a scar was permanent nonetheless, it's just something you had to live with.

You eventually left Wonyoung's side to search for any bathrooms that were unoccupied, which ended up being a harder challenge than expected. A big frat house with many rooms, yet most of the bathrooms were either hidden away or occupied, just amazing. The narrow corridors were also another nightmare for you having to squeeze past drunk college kids or people making out, you didn't know which was worse. You wondered if your luck had somehow ran out when you accidentally bumped into someone tall, knocking his drink over in the middle of the corridor.

"I'm so sorry!" You reached down to pick his cup up in panic, not knowing who the person even was until you stood up straight, the fog in your brain clearing up for you to realise the person was actually someone you knew. Speaking of past failed situationships, one was unfortunately standing before you there and then. The universe must be toying with you.

"Y/N?"

Nevermind the cup, either of you were too stunned at the sight of one another to really care about it anymore. Song Eunseok. Anton's best friend from the rival school's hockey team, but also your past situationship and talking stage. How did Anton even acquire that many jock friends, you didn't know, neither did you want to.

Anton was the one who set you and his friend up, thinking it'd be a good idea to get you back into the dating scene. Wrong. Turns out, his best friend ended up being a total asshole that reminded you to never trust Anton and his wingman abilities, particularly him and his jock friends. That was also the reason why you doubted Jake at the start, and you hoped you'd continue being wrong about him.

"Hey," you murmured, unknowingly tightening your grip on the plastic cup. What was there to speak about anyway? The thing that happened between you and him ended sourly and it wasn't entirely the best memory for you to sit and talk about. "I'll get going now,"

"Wait," the sound of his voice after years of not hearing it in flesh made you stop in your steps, your eyes flickering up to stare at his face.

"What?"

"You're not going to ask me why I'm here?"

You should be confused, he wasn't around here, neither did he go to your school to mix around with people that did. "I don't care," you answered bluntly, but truthfully, it was already predictable that he's only in town for a game against the school's team, that's all.

He wasn't impressed by your indifference, clicking his tongue as he glanced away for a second. "I heard you're going out with Jake,"

"And?"

He threw his hands up in mock defence, that gloating look on his face was only making it more punchable as minutes ticked by. "I'm just trying to warn you,"

"Whatever it is, I don't care,"

"Really? You really don't care about him being known to switch between girls all the time? How he breaks hearts and plays with girls like you, really?" Eunseok practically sneered, watching the brave front you put on faltering.

"What?"

"Oh, you know, he's got a reputation for himself. A good boy facade with fuckboy tendencies, many girls fall for it, I can't believe you did too," he shrugged, the maliciousness evident in his gaze. "He's probably fucking with you for a while then he'll throw you to the side after, just like every other girls,"

You knew he was lying and trying to get into your head by spewing some bullshit, so why were you letting him do so? A part of you was aware that what he said wasn't true, but the other part of you let his words get the worst of you. It was as if all the horrid thoughts you had pushed into the back of your mind resurfaced and manifested into words that were thrown into your face, more ironic that they were uttered by the same man who was the blueprint of your problems with relationships.

"Look, whatever hockey rivalry you have, I don't care, but don't bring his and my personal matters into this," you backed away from him, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole instead of having to face him. "God, you're still such an asshole after a long time."

The last sentence from you was seethed out of your teeth before you whipped around to speed walk away. The adrenaline and anxiety redirected your attention away from the need to find the toilet, instead, you were searching for the front door in order to leave.

"I need to leave," you gripped onto Wonyoung's shoulder, her smile formed into a frown once her eyes landed on your face, instantly sensing the red flags. "It's okay if you want to stay, I can go on my own,"

"But we took my car, I can't just leave you—"

"I'll find a way, I'll call a cab, whatever it is. It's fine, I'll be fine," you rubbed her shoulder assuringly, though you knew in reality, you were far from fine.

"Are you okay? Y/N, I can leave with you, it's fine—"

Wonyoung realised you were no longer keeping your eyes on her, but you were staring over her shoulder, dread evident in your features. Before she could open her mouth to question you, you were already inching away from her. "I'll text you when I'm home. Be safe!"

Wonyoung was having a hard time keeping her gaze on you and grasping everything in general, she ended up following your line of sight, her frown deepened once it landed on what happened to be the root cause of your panic. Eunseok. By the time it clicked in her head, it was probably too late. You were out the door.

A gush of the cold night air hit your face just as much as Eunseok's words did. They were circling around your mind endlessly, fighting the thoughts of you convincing yourself he was just a liar. But to a certain extent, some lies do have truths hidden in them. Could this be one of the cases?

It didn't help that the memory of what Anton said came flooding in, rubbing salt to the wound. Neither was it the perfect timing for Jake to come walking up towards you, looking ready to start his night of partying.

"You're here!"

His voice broke you out of your trance, your feet halting just in time for his hands to hold onto your shoulders, the biggest smile greeting you. However, this time around, you couldn't bring yourself to reciprocate it, not when he reminded you of all the things you told yourself to not worry about.

"You okay? Where's your friend?" Jake's smile faltered, the look of worry flashed across his face, his grip on your shoulders didn't budge.

You couldn't meet his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. "Tell me it isn't true," your voice came out quiet, the sound of your blood thumping in your system filled your ears. "He's lying, isn't he?"

Jake's face was leveled with yours, shaking your shoulders, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "What? Who?"

"You're not going to break my heart too, right?"

"What—Y/N, you're not making any sense. Did someone tell you that? Who was it?"

"It isn't true, right? Those stories of you playing with girls' hearts just like any other asshole would, I … never believed them, so they're lying, aren't they?"

Jake's mouth fell agape, the words that were expected to spill never came, a dawning fall in his expression spoke more than it should've. "It is. It is true," you breathed out, letting it sink in, after all those times of not listening to the rumours of him, it ended up being real. A serial heartbreaker, Jake Sim, how cliche could it be? And how unfortunate for you to attract these types of guys over again. "I'm not one of them, am I?

"You're not, Y/N, never," his hold on you was relentlessly, you only felt smaller as seconds ticked by. "Those rumours were from ages ago, back before I knew you, before I had my break up. It's been years. I realised how much of an asshole I was and I changed my ways. You have to believe me,"

You did, you believed him. His actions over the months told you enough, giving you a chance to build a trust towards him. But after hearing basically a confirmation to those rumours from him and Eunseok, you were split in half, mind in a mess. Eunseok wasn't completely wrong, but you believed he was just trying to get to you with his scathing words, and Jake admitting to it wasn't exactly the ideal cherry on top. It was supposedly the past, wasn't it? Plus, Wonyoung's survey of information about Jake was something much more worth believing than your ex situationship.

"I believe you," you whispered out, choosing to tell the truth rather than making it into a bigger mess. You ran a hand through your hair, releasing a sharp exhale. "I think Eunseok was trying to stir a reaction from me,"

"Eunseok? Song Eunseok? He's playing against us tomorrow," Jake breathed out incredulously, swallowing a string of cusses. "Y/N, forget about him or whatever he said. I admit it, I was like that in the past, back when I didn't know any better. But I promise you, I'll never, ever break your heart,"

You felt guilty, guilty for letting the worst get to you, for putting the blame on the wrong person based on assumptions you made. Jake had always been an accepting person, and you were grateful for that. "I'm sorry for acting this way. I let my fears get to me after hearing things about you from Eunseok and you admitting to them. I was scared you'd turn out to be the type of guys I hated," you paused, taking a chance to breathe in deeply. "I just didn't want to be someone else's second choice again,"

You gave yourself a chance to be completely vulnerable with him, laying all your ugly truths for him. Embarrassed and distressed, those were what describes you at that moment. You hated the way you got heated up over nothing, letting your fears and emotions overwhelm you till the point where you couldn't think straight or rationally. Your mess of a mind was distracted once Jake pulled into his chest, engulfing you into a hug.

"You'd never be a second choice to me, in fact, you're the only one in my life," His hand stroked your head, the side of his face resting on it. "I'm sorry for letting you feel that way, or not being there to punch that asshole square in the jaw. You're not just anybody to me, you're my best friend, my partner in crime, my everything. You don't understand how much and complete you make me feel. I wouldn't replace you for anything,"

The initial shock of the hug melted into relief, his warmth provided a sense of security along with his reassuring words. Your arms wrapped around his body, reciprocating the hug. "Thank you," you swallowed, letting yourself melt into his hold. Minutes passed with no words exchanged, just the two of you holding each other, yet, it expressed much more than words were required. You trusted him, you do, and you knew he wasn't the type of man Eunseok described, maybe in the past, but the present was where you're at currently, you knew he wouldn't try hurting you. You knew him.

The drive back to your dorm was sullen and weird. 'Weird' was definitely a way to put the whole aftermath into words. You had already settled whatever rift there was before getting into the car, but why didn't it feel right at all? You were scared you hurt him, and unbeknownst to you, he was thinking the same. This only caused a slight tension, neither of you daring to reach out first at that given moment.

That was when Jake reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and settling the interlocked hands on his thigh. As always, he was the first to mend the cracks. "I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself in the first place. I never knew,"

"I don't blame you. It was my fault for not speaking out on it either. I bottled it up until it got to me. People did warn me about your past, about your old ways, but I trusted you, I knew you wouldn't hurt me," you gave his hand a squeeze, more to reassure yourself. "I just can't believe I let Eunseok get the worst of me,"

"He's just a total asshole. It's okay, I understand, I would've felt the same if I was in your shoes," there was a sigh that followed after. "Actually, what's the relationship between you and him? I never knew you two knew each other. Are you guys … friends?"

"Friends? God no. We're anything but friends at this point," your face twisted into a sour expression, the thought of being friends with a guy like him made your stomach churn in the worst way. "Long story, but Eunseok is Anton's friend, they go way back. Anton being the wingman that he claims to be, he set me up with Eunseok. We were never official, but we were more than just friends at one point. I thought he'd ask me to be his girlfriend officially since everything was going good, but he ghosted me and got with another girl after,"

Explaining your past with Eunseok was another type of reliving the bad memories. The time you spent on that man was not worth it. "Which explained why I became wary of Anton's friends. All the ones he's introduced me to ended up being the same variant as Eunseok, and that also instilled a paranoia when I agreed to try things out with you,"

Jake kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, but his raised eyebrows that were almost touching his hairline was enough to show his surprise. "Wow," he breathed out, seemingly digesting it in. "Are all Anton's friends assholes? Am I an asshole?"

You rolled your eyes at him even if he didn't catch onto it. "Luckily for you, you changed and they didn't. I'm pretty sure most of them stayed the same, Eunseok is basically a living proof of that theory. You and your friends, however, aren't like that from the beginning, which is why I like you guys,"

"I thought you only liked me?" Jake finally glanced at you, among the hint of playfulness in his gaze, there was also a warmth of understanding.

You stifled a cackle, choosing to let out a laugh out of impressed disbelief. "Don't need to be so full of yourself, hot shot."

It was his turn to laugh. The sweetest melody of his laughter had you smiling unknowingly. It was always the simplest things about him that made you happy. You wished for it to stay as such for a long time.

By then, it became a normal habit for Jake to walk you up to your doorstep, neither of you questioned it anymore. This time, however, things didn't leave at the doorstep.

"My roommate's at her boyfriend's place for the weekend," you started, the question which came next was unexpected. "Do you … want to stay over?

A single question to change the whole trajectory of your relationship to develop into something deeper. Jake couldn't bring himself to say 'no' to your offer, his hands were still in yours, most importantly, those pairs of eyes staring back at him made it hard to reject.

There you were, making your way over to your room carefully through the darkness of your living room, passing by the flowers he gave that sat in the vase. There were little parts of him in your shared dorm that consistently reminded you of him and his presence.

Never in a million years would you have predicted Jake being next to you in bed. The stillness of the night air engulfed the two of you, not a word shared, but the intertwined hands between you and him was reassuring. There was nothing else that would have replaced this moment of your back against his chest, feeling the palpitations of his heart as you drifted off to sleep, unaware of Jake's fluttering eyes, sneaking occasional glances at you.

"I'm undeniably in love with you." He muttered against the top of your head as he pressed a haste kiss.

Jake couldn't see you, and he didn't know you were still half awake, listening in on his whisper. There was a smile that settled on your lips, the intertwined hand felt heavier than usual, just as your heart did, filled with an immeasurable amount of love for the first time in your life. What has he done to you?

One bed, two idiots in love, helplessly pining onto each other with an overwhelming amount of love that the other didn't know. Only an imminent happening would be the catalyst for one of you to break.

Having to explain to Wonyoung at nine in the morning that you and Jake didn't do anything weird the night before was a pain in the ass. It wasn't the right timing for Jake to leave just as Wonyoung showed up at your doorstep, an arm outstretched ready to press the doorbell but stopping in motion from the shock of seeing you and him alone in the apartment.

"You didn't leave early yesterday to fuck Jake, right?"

"I didn't fuck him at all," you seethed, glaring at Wonyoung for sayinh that the hundredth time. "I coincidentally ran into him and he brought me home,"

"And … he stayed over?"

"He stayed over," you confirmed, a little more timidly. "But we didn't do anything, okay?"

"Okay," she said as she took a sip out of her cup, an edge of doubt in her voice that you didn't miss, but chose to ignore. "Enough of Jake. What happened yesterday? Everything wasn't right,"

A sigh left your lips unconsciously, the thought of having to relive the whole nightmare of a fiasco by summarising it to Wonyoung was a dread. If only she could peek into your mind and memories. Nevertheless, you gave her a brief summary of what happened, from A to Z until the part where Jake ended up in your bed (that wasn't exactly how it meant to sound).

"Eunseok said that to you? He had the nerve to say that when he's literally what he's accusing Jake of? The audacity," Wonyoung was visibly fuming, pinching the tip of her nose bridge. "I hope Jake beats his ass today," she frowned, then added, "figuratively, can't have him suspended again."

For the rest of the day, you stayed home with Wonyoung by your side, waiting for the time of the game to arrive. You never knew they streamed the games online until Anton came over to set up the stream, bringing along a huge box of pizza while he's at it. On the couch in the living room, the laptop sat next to the flower vase, the commentator's voice filling the silence of the space.

"Remind me to never set you up again," Anton mumbled through his mouth full of pizza, looking thoroughly guilty and apologetic once you and Wonyoung ran through the whole incident that he missed. "I'll cut him off … and probably a lot of them. But hey, at least Jake's a success, eh?"

Wonyoung reached over to deliver a slap on the back of his head, earning a grunt of annoyance from him. "Don't jinx it, failed cupid."

Seeing Jake on the mini laptop screen was much different compared to actually being there in person. The game was starting soon, you hoped your good luck would manifest into reality too. Each glimpse of Jake only made you both anxious and relieved, how contradicting. It was as if the cameraman knew the tension between Jake and Eunseok, occasionally panning to Jake then Eunseok.

The start of the game was relatively civil. However, there was no denying the ongoing hostility Jake had towards Eunseok. The 'accidental' slams into Eunseok, they were obviously on purpose. There was nothing out of hand just yet, but it was apparent that something would soon stir.

"He needs to calm down," Anton murmured mostly to himself at the end of the second period, the home team drawing with the opposition. You silently agreed with him, watching as Jake's teammates hit his shoulders with some knowing looks.

Third period was when things started getting rough. It wasn't a tense rivalry without the occasional fouls, especially when both teams were stuck on a draw, trying their best to crawl out of the game with a win. Jake stood out the most. His assists were helpful to the team, but given his continuous hostility towards the oppositions, particularly Eunseok was going to cost him something.

The worst and unimaginable that everybody was expecting eventually came to life. The frustration in the atmosphere was felt even through the screen. Eunseok slammed his side onto Jake, but it didn't stop just there. Jake retaliated by grabbing onto Eunseok's collar, ripping his helmet off and throwing a punch across the latter's face. Both men's helmets were on the ground, gloves off and sticks flung to one side.

The whole thing was a mess. Players stopped in their tracks to pull the two off of one another, there was a circle surrounding the fight, doing whatever they could to stop it. Even after they were pulled away from each other, the aftermath wasn't a good sight. Both players were bleeding and injured, to top it all off, a suspension was immediately issued to Jake.

"Is this the time to switch the stream off?" Anton broke the silence in the room, the three of you meeting each others' gazes with an obvious 'oh no' on your faces. Oh no indeed.

You actually didn't know what happened after. Anton did, in fact, switch the stream off while you raced to text Jake with full worry. He wasn't responsive, so you gave him his space to let his anger cool off. In the meantime, you paced around despite your friends' reassurance that didn't help much. You weren't feeling much better even after they left, glancing at your phone way too often while praying your screen would lit up with a notification from Jake.

The evening sunset pierced through your curtains, dawn eventually made its appearance. It had been a long hour of waiting for Jake, no matter how you tried to shake the dreadful feeling, it was hard to fully ignore it. It almost felt like forever until your doorbell rang. The sinking feeling was back.

Your footsteps thud loudly against the floor, ripping the door open by its handle, meeting Jake's injured face that carried a lopsided smile, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. "Are you disappointed in me?"

He was about to be the death of you, in the worst possible way. You said nothing at first, walking closer, and caught him by surprise when you threw a punch at his shoulder, then again. "You asshole! You disappeared on me and ignored my texts. I thought something went wrong,"

He got a hold of your wrist, stopping you mid punch. "I forgot how painful your punches were," he tried to lessen the tension, offering a reassuring smile at you, but you only reciprocated with a frown that caused his smile to falter. "I'm sorry. I really am. I should've called you immediately after, but … I needed to cool down. I was too stuck in my head,"

"I figured, I understand," you pressed your lips into a thin line, releasing a deep sigh, you couldn't blame him either. "Why did you do it?"

"He was a jerk," Jake said plainly, although it was already a full explanation on its own, you couldn't help but shake your head at it.

"You shouldn't've used violence to get back at him,"

"I know,"

"You're suspended for the next game,"

"I know,"

You let the words sink in for a short moment, pursing your lips, then breathed a deep sigh through your nostrils. "Does that mean you'll be free to be my partner that day? I need someone to watch the game with,"

The initial disappointment in his face disappeared, turning into a much more hopeful expression. His eyes visibly lit up, face beaming. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I am,"

"Then I have something to ask too," Jake's voice slightly trembled at that, it was something that didn't go unnoticed by you. He extended the hand that held onto the bouquet, the most nervous smile you've seen on Jake was plastered on his face. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

There was something electrical that coursed through your veins, it could be pure shock or adrenaline. Your mind was currently short circuiting, a mix of relief, happiness and disbelief eere clogging your head to form a coherent thought. But your answer was forced through in the end, you had to push it out no matter what.

"Yes,"

"Yes?"

"Yes, Jake. I'd love to be your girlfriend. In every lifetime if that matters," your lips twisted into the biggest smile, it was hard to resist laughing at the shock in Jake's reaction. He must've expected the answer already, but he still couldn't hide the surprise from hearing the word 'yes'. "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me,"

A rush of relief flooded his prior expressions, the littlest grin adorned his face. It was as if everything happened on cue. You grabbed the bouquet from him and next thing you knew, he used his other hand to pull your forearm, causing you to stumble into him, then there it was, his lips on yours. Out of everything, this was unexpected.

"Ouch," he winced, the small yet fresh wound on the edge of his lips being a deterrent for a second, but he was not going down like that.

Jake tilted his head to angle his lips better, deepening the kiss and avoiding the cut at the same time. Kissing him this time was much different from the rest. This time after his long awaited question, it seemed the built up of emotions were poured into this single kiss alone. Unimaginable, that was the only way you could describe how you felt. The rollercoaster of emotions and the twist in your gut, it was your first time feeling this way. In love, that was it.

Pulling away from each other was something neither of you wanted. His forehead was resting against yours, his minty breath fanning on your lips, the dorkiest grin displayed. The two of you kept your hold onto one another, not daring to make a single move.

You met his eyes, reading the secret love messages hidden in his brown irises that he held onto tightly. "So, do you accept my date?"

Jake leaned his head back, unimpressed. "What do you think? I already gave you my answer," there it was, his typical smirk that told you he had another idea in mind. "Want me to give you a more concrete answer?"

He didn't allow you a chance to answer when he leaned in to kiss you again, a much shorter and brief kiss. But, you got your answer, and an endearing smile that you couldn't wipe off no matter what.

"Stop being cheesy and get your ass inside to get your wounds treated. An infection will hurt," you pushed his chest lightly, visibly flustered from his actions that he took pride in. He only threw his hands up in defence before obediently crossing the threshold.

"Don't cry when I apply the ointment,"

"This isn't my first day at the job."

On the contrary, he actually whined a lot. You learned to put up with it despite the several attempts to force him in place. Did that confident man just turn into a whole baby? Absolutely. The bruises on his knuckles, an ugly cut on both his lips and cheek didn't phase Jake at all, he stayed proud at the fact that he got the chance to land a punch on Eunseok' face. Even though you shook your head in disapprovement, secretly, you were satisfied.

At the end of the night, you didn't think Jake would end up staying over again, but it happened inevitably. He took the advantage of your absent roommate to spend as much time there with the freedom to lounge around. Was he there for you or your bed?

Either way, being in his presence and having his arms wrapped around you in your sleep was something you wouldn't complain about. If this was a privilege you got to enjoy every night, you would count it as a blessing you were never letting go. In his arms, you found a home you would go back to without a doubt.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake was grinning like the biggest fool every now and then when he stole glances at you. To him, you were the brightest star in his dark sky. After all, you had been the person who stayed in the back of his mind from years ago till then.

It might've been fate, or it might've been plain coincidence when it came to the two of you meeting. Whatever it was, all roads led you to each other. That was inevitable.

There you were, sitting in the stands of the hockey arena, seemingly back to square one all over again.

Everything around you was giving you deja vu but in the best way. Jake was sitting next to you, also suspended like the last time you were in this arena with him beside you. This time around, it was much different than before. He was no longer a stranger that you had one too many encounters with, instead, he was your boyfriend and best friend that you wouldn't dare trade anything for.

"You know what?" Jake turned to look at you with a questioning glance, to which you raised your eyebrow at.

"What?"

"I don't regret getting suspended. I got to punch that jerk and spend time with you here, I think it's pretty romantic," he had a prideful smile as he placed your interlocked hands on his lap.

"I can't tell if I should be charmed or not," you held back a laugh, squeezing his hand while shaking your head. "Modern day romance, how cute,"

"Isn't it?" He replied shortly, averting his attention to the jumbotron, the unmistakable 'KISS CAM' was displayed on the screen as it searched for its next pair of victims once more. 'Look, it's the kiss cam again,"

You followed his line of sight, recalling the time you were once on it with Jake. That felt almost just yesterday. "I doubt it'll land on us again,"

A faint smirk on Jake's telling looks showed that he thought otherwise. "Why? Scared to kiss me?"

"So scared," you responded dryly, a tone laced with sarcasm that had him smiling as well.

"Is it bad to say I want a cameo on the kiss cam with you again?" He pursed his lips, staring back at you with a tinge of guilt at his own confession. "I just want an excuse to kiss you,"

"You don't need any excuse to kiss me, idiot," you rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Admit it, you're just an attention freak, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he choked out a laugh that got you doing the same.

As if on cue, the jumbotron screen had moved on from the previous pair, choosing the next one: you and Jake. Must the universe listen to Jake? Unlike last time, Jake didn't have a hat to hide his identity, so once people noticed it was the team's star player, the roar of the crowd only grew tenfold.

"You see," you wished to wipe off the cheeky smirk on Jake's face, the one that he always had whenever he was right about something. "Come on, sweets,"

Despite receiving an eye roll out of annoyance from you, your smile proved something else. Without a word from you, you grabbed onto his face, pulling him in to place a quick kiss, definitely not having a full makeout session in front of the cameras. From the sound of the crowds' cheers and Jake's satisfactory smile, you could tell everyone had eaten this moment up, even Jake himself whose reddening ears were giving him away.

"Look who's blushing!" You pointed at the clear evidence of his reddening skin, but he could only respond with an embarrassed cough.

"No, I'm not,"

"Don't lie, Jakey. You're shy," you looped your arm around his, then rested your head on his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with that anyway,"

"I know," he whispered, pressing the side of his face on the top of your head. "I love you, sweets,"

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze just in time for him to see the shock evident in the twist of your facial expressions. "What's with the sudden three words?"

He shook his head, pursing his lips a little. "Nothing, just telling you how I feel. I love you," he repeated once more, the effect of the eight letter word piercing through your heart, especially when it came straight from him.

A soft, affectionate smile settled on your lips, your eyes still glued to his face. "I love you too, Jake."

A kiss on your forehead was his reply, a simple action spoke much more than a million words could. An overwhelming wave of emotions gripped onto you just then, just as you tightened your hold on his arm at the feeling of those emotions. It was love, a special kind of love that you built to have with him and him only.

There in that arena, you shared your first unofficial kiss with Jake, leading to a blossom of events that eventually led you to this exact moment, where you had your second kiss in the stands, this time being something more than strangers or even best friends. Lovers, eternal companions, that was what you were. All it took was to break the ice with a punch, then a kiss to fall in love.

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hello-eden · 2 months

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Unexpected Hope

Damian has been disoriented all week. When he was told that stopping the ritual would have repercussions, he did not expect this. He had been dealing with the memories on his own but unfortunately he could not postpone this gala.

He had been stopping a ritual that would end up summoning the being he now knows as Undergrowth. Damien does not regret that choice especially now that he has the context. Unfortunately it brought back his memories of Phantom.

He didn't quite understand they were memories for quite a while honestly he was a little bit concerned he got possessed. Thankfully after some compartmentalizing and a little bit of isolation, he figured out what was wrong. It did not help the confusion that comes with being a Midwestern teen and an assassin child put into one body but he has gotten the hang of it.

Unfortunately Damian did not get long before he was forced back into the presence of his family. he had put off many public family events in the last few months so he was not able to get out of this event. he probably could have faked being sick but he'd much prefer to be able to pass off any of his symptoms from the memories as uncomfortableness being around strangers then be alone with his family.

He's honestly very happy with his choice after he sees her. He doesn't recognize her at first with the dark auburn braided hair and the dress being something other than black but something made him turn around when he heard her rant.

She was giving a humanitarian speech to one of the investors. At first he got closer just to hear about it. It's always funny to see the faces of the imbeciles when people don't bow to their wishes.

Damien thought he finally found someone who was not a gold digger or a social climber. What made him really stop in his tracks was her body language. It was like a neon flashing sign opened up and said ‘hey this is Sam Mason’.

Damien walked over with hope in his chest that he was not alone. she eventually seemed to get tired of the man or maybe he was able to scramble an excuse and walk away. he couldn't quite hear but by the time he walked over there it was only her.

“you seem to be quite passionate,” Damian says, trying to start a conversation and figuring out how to ask the hard question.

What is he exactly supposed to say? ‘Hey, are you my best friend for my last life or hey do you remember being on my ghost hero vigilante team that ended up with all of us being Undead royalty.’

The girl looks him over, probably trying to figure out what he wants.

“Are you here to argue?” She says angrily, obviously ready for another fight.

“Your speech reminds me of someone, have you ever heard of Samantha Mason” Damien says trying to be nonchalant.

Her eyes seem to widen and look him over again.

“Where'd you hear that name.” She ordered.

“I've heard enough of her rants to be able to pick it out from a crowd.”

“Danny,” She said softly her grabbing his hands and squeezing as she looked around to make sure no one saw. “what how I thought it was the only one” Hope seemed to be filling her eyes.

“Hi Sam” Damien Whispers just as softly just as glad he is not alone.

Without another word Sam drags them to the stairway rushing up to the floor upstairs and trying to find a room that isn't being used. She eventually finds one two floors above the room they were using for the gala and pushes him into what looks like a break room.

“How the hell did you get your memories” Sam demands

“Why are you yelling at me? You have your memories too obviously if you are recognizing your name” Damian says shouting back at her.

Sam always has a way of catching him off guard. She was happy just a minute ago.

“yeah well I did something stupid which means I know you did something stupid” Sam said pointing her finger at him.

“ Well I may have accidentally stumbled upon a ritual for summoning an ancient and when I stopped it the backlash gave me my memories back. ” Damien stumbled over their words trying to justify themselves. "What stupid thing did you do?”

“The girls in my stupid Prep School in my grade went through a very witchy phase. there was a slumber party and they were stupid enough to actually find real magic. I had a cut on my hand earlier in the day and try to freak them out by adding a little bit of my blood. apparently my protection spell is literally stuck into my soul, so things went down” Sam says just as hesitantly as Damien

“you have zero leg to stand on okay fine we were both stupid”

They both sat there in silence for a while, mostly just basking in each other's presents realizing they weren't alone anymore.

“it's good to have you back," Damian says, giving her a weak smile and running his hands through his hair.

He'd been trained out of all of his nervous ticks but it probably makes her more comfortable to see him just as nervous as she is.

“it's good to see you too da- do you have the same name?” both of them don't seem to realize at the same time that they didn't get each other's names.

“Damien” he says as he pulls his hand out of his hair and puts his hand out for a handshake.

“Sarah” she says, grabbing his hand and giving it a shake.

the two of them shake their hand for a moment before they look at each other's eyes and burst out giggling.

Damien's really glad he decided to not pretend to be sick.

#reincarnated sam manson #reincarnated danny #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover #batman #batfam #batfamily #dcxdp #Danny is Damien #sam manson

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euthymiya · 5 months

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it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head.

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around.

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing.

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does.

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him.

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity.

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions.

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone.

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth.

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache.

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly.

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly.

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs.

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length.

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time.

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat.

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.”

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp.

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head.

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived.

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously.

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once.

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction.

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds.

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him.

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position.

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release.

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry.

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms.

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure.

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin.

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual.

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return.

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office.

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist.

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls.

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke.

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.”

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move.

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum.

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize.

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around.

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters.

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions.

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily.

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.”

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours.

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out.

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying.

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath.

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him.

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion.

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest.

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly.

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity.

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his.

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer.

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is.

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you.

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory.

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you.

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him.

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other.

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other.

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared.

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest.

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered.

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet.

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down.

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms.

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side.

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger.

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches.

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora.

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe.

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady.

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will.

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you.

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?”

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one.

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.”

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it.

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly.

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar.

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses.

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.��

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care.

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title.

no one until you.

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with.

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are.

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is.

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink.

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you.

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows.

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp.

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure.

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor.

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls.

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love.

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick.

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths.

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley.

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other.

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name.

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder.

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name.

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley.

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

#writing tag #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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