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kamiversee · 2 months

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 27 || The Sweet Moments (PT. 2)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, a tinge of angst, & lots of fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.7k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AFTER THE EVENTS OF WHAT took place in Toji's car, he gave you the option of either sleeping in the guest bedroom of his home or his bedroom. You chose the first option and he was sure to warn you that his son would probably return home sometime that morning so you'd have to stay hidden in there during that time.

You agreed to that and when you got into his home, Toji had given you a spare shirt of his to sleep in. The night went on perfectly fine and he even gave you medicine for your throat before he went to bed, something you gratefully took since you could feel the slight upcoming scratch in your esophagus.

The following morning, you woke up to dim sunlight resting upon the side of your face, making you groan a little before you turned over. You could hear talking coming from somewhere outside the bedroom you lay in.

There were two voices, one obviously Toji's and the other sounding like a smaller and younger person. After laying there for a few minutes trying to listen and wake yourself up at the same time, you eventually got up and decided to be nosy.

The talking you heard slowly transformed into bickering as you neared the shut bedroom door, pressing your ear against it lightly and listening in on the conversation taking place down the hall and in the nearby kitchen.

"Please no," A child's voice was heard.

The sound of a scoff hit your ears, "What do you mean please no??" Toji replied, "I make the best sandwiches..."

"Dad, every grilled cheese you've ever made has been burnt." His son replied, "And every time you make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich... you put like three pounds of peanut butter on it."

"You said you liked peanut butter," Toji argued back with a shrug.

"Not that much." The child grumbled, "And even the regular sandwiches you make always have too much of something..."

Toji frowned, "No one told you to be so damn picky... If you want it done right maybe you should come in here and do it your damn self."

You can hear the kid laugh at his father with footsteps following behind the sound. The footsteps get closer to the bedroom you're in and you hear his voice just outside it, "You're the one who keeps trying to make them in the first place. I never asked you to."

"Then why do you keep eatin' them?" Toji shouts to the boy as he furthers away from him.

"I gotta' eat something... even if it tastes like shit..." You hear the child curse, just under his breath as he passes your door.

Toji raises a brow, "I know I didn't just hear you curse."

"Can you even hear anything, old man...?" His kid fires back, the sound of his footsteps heard entering a room just down the hall from you-- most likely his bedroom.

"Oi, don't make me come back there!" Toji shouts.

"And do what?" The boy mutters sassily, "Force me to eat another dry chicken sandwich with no water like you did last week?"

There's a second of silence and you try not to laugh at their bickering. Toji sounds a bit annoyed now, "You said you didn't want anything to drink.."

"I wasn't expecting to choke on fourteen pounds of chicken and two slices of bread that were the same size as my laptop..." The kid explains overdramatically.

Toji scoffs, "Whatever, hurry up and get ready before you're late."

"Like you'd care..." You hear the kid say very quietly to himself.

"What was that?" Toji calls out.

There's a moment of quietness and you hear his kid playfully respond, "I knew you were going deaf." He says before shutting his bedroom door.

You move to open yours at the sound and peek out, seeing that it is in fact the child's bedroom that he just disappeared into. Toji scoffs within his kitchen and you take a moment to slip out of the bedroom you're in and join him there.

When he spots you emerging from around the corner, he raises a brow. For starters, he's wearing a t-shirt that hugs his torso, revealing that insane physique of his. You gawk at it slightly as you make your way over to him, walking around the counter and approaching his side to see what he's doing.

"Sounds like you need help out here," You whisper to him teasingly.

Toji smiles slightly at your words, realizing that you've heard just about everything. "Kid doesn't like anything I make."

You tilt your head as you stare at the sandwich he's currently making. It looks like it's supposed to be peanut butter and jelly but it's definitely coming out as more jelly with a hint of peanut butter. A hand comes up over your mouth as you try not to laugh at it.

Toji looks to his side and down at you with a frown, "I know you're not laughing right now."

"Mr. Fushiguro..." You snicker, "He's never gonna like anything you make if you do it like that."

"How the hell am I supposed to do it then?" Toji grumbles.

Both of your voices are quiet enough so that his kid couldn't hear anything.

"Watch and learn," You hum before moving to make the sandwich in a way you think anyone would enjoy.

Toji moves to the side a bit as you create an entirely new sandwich, leaving the one he was working on idle. He watches as you spread peanut butter across two slices of bread and then put an even amount of jelly in the middle, bringing the two slices of bread together and then cutting it in half diagonally.

"Aaand done," You say cheerfully, turning to look at the man beside you to see his eyes wide. You chuckle, "What?"

Toji blinks, "He's not gonna eat that."

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure," Toji replies confidently, moving to finish the sandwich he'd been making previously, "He's gonna hate both of them. Kid' hates everything."

"I'm not sure that's true," You hum, watching as Toji proceeds to make his version of the sandwich.

"You'll see." He replies, "Now, go back in the room before he comes out here."

You sigh, "Fiiine." Then, as you walk away, you turn back with a curious brow raised, "What's his name?"

Toji shrugs, "Don't remember."

You blink, spotting a world's best dad mug on the nearby counter, "You're joking right...?"

Toji chuckles and looks up and at you, "His name's Megumi."

You nod and smile before dipping back around the corner and into the room you'd previously been in. You make sure to quietly shut the door behind you and then patiently wait to hear Megumi emerge from his room.

After about five more minutes, you hear his door open and footsteps rush past the room you're in. Megumi is heard in the kitchen taking a seat at one of the barstools.

"Here," Toji sighs, "Try these two before you go and tell me which one is better."

Megumi's face scrunches up, "If you made them, then they both probably taste like shi-"

"Just eat the damn sandwich." Toji cuts him off, frowning at his son in an annoyed manner.

With a roll of his eyes, Megumi goes for the one Toji made first, taking a single bite and dramatically making a disgusted face in reaction. "Daaad, there's like two whole jars of jelly on thiiiiis," He whines.

Toji's expression remains blank, "Yeah yeah, now eat the other one."

"I'm scared..." Megumi mumbles with a pout as he moves for the second sandwich. Toji leans over the counter and watches his son take one bite and then raise his brows. "You made this?" Megumi questions.

"Yep," Toji lies, now frowning at the fact that there's a noticeable difference in his son's reaction to his sandwich versus yours.

"Bullshi-"

"Megumi if you curse one more time, I'm throwin' you out that window over there," Toji cuts off sarcastically.

Megumi sighs, nearly chuckling at his father's dramatic threat, "But you curse all the time."

"I'm a grown-ass man."

"See?" The kid scoffs before moving out of his seat and grabbing the second sandwich he tasted. He then moves to shove the rest of it into a ziplock bag and then drops it into his bookbag, leaving the sandwich his father made on the counter. "Anyways, thanks for not making this one too bad."

"Oh, so you like the sandwiches like that?" Toji asks.

"Yeah, it's even. Not too much peanut butter or jelly. Make all of them like that please." Megumi requests as he moves to grab his shoes.

Toji watches his son near the front door of their home, "I'll try."

His kid nods his head in response before opening the door and making sure his bookbag is on properly, "Thanks. Bye Dad."

"Mhm, cya." Toji hums in response while moving to clean the mess made in the kitchen.

You hear the front door shut and then wait a few minutes before emerging from the bedroom yet again. When you get to the kitchen, you notice the sandwich you made is completely gone and Toji's is still sitting in the same place. Then, you see the older man straightening his kitchen up.

"What was that you said about him hating both sandwiches?" You ask tauntingly as you cross your arms.

Toji sends you a look, "Shut up."

You chuckle, "He seems like a good kid," You say to change the subject.

"He's alright," Toji grumbles while snatching up his abandoned sandwich from the counter. "If he keeps fuckin' with me I'm gonna sell him," He says sarcastically.

Your eyes go wide, "Sell him?!"

He shrugs, "He'd go for a lot of money too, I bet."

"Mr. Fushiguro that's your son." You say, emphasizing your words.

Toji starts laughing, "I know, I know. I just kiddin'."

"Uhuh..." You hum, nodding and smiling at him.

You end up helping him straighten up his kitchen a bit and afterward, he offers to drive you home. You didn't want to run the possibility of Shoko or anyone else you know seeing Toji drop you off so instead, you told him you'd call a friend to come get you.

With a shrug, Toji said okay and then he went off to prepare himself for his day. You ended up putting your dress back on and leaving the shirt he gave you neatly folded up on the bed you slept on.

After which, you give Toji one last bye before heading outside. It was decently early in the morning and the chilly fall breeze was brushing up against your exposed skin as you walked down the street a bit. You didn't want to call your 'friend' (Gojo) to come pick you up from right outside Toji's house so you made sure to distance yourself a bit.

Luckily for you, there was a bench just down the street that you found yourself sitting at. The phone call you made to Gojo was relatively short and how quickly he got to where you were surprised you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Did you fuck Mr. Fushiguro again?" Was Gojo's first question to you as soon as you got into his car and buckled yourself in.

You release a sigh before responding. "Yep. That's another six thousand if I'm not mistaken," You claim, turning your head to look at him with an innocent little smile on your face.

He blinks, "You're lucky I love you, y'know that right?"

There's a pulse felt within your heart. Just when is he going to stop saying that? "Am I?" You ask.

Gojo scoffs, "Yeah, do you even know how much money I've given you so far?"

You shrug casually, "Am I supposed to be keeping track?"

"I mean you don't have to but I'm surprised you don't," Gojo hums, smiling a little, "You're like a spoiled princess now..."

"I'm not sure princesses get paid to fuck hot guys," You utter before looking away from him and his stupid smile that makes your heart rate increase. "And wait, how did you know I slept with Mr. Fushiguro again?"

"Uhm, he lives down this street. I babysat his kid and I know where they live, remember?" Gojo explains.

"Oh... Wait, speaking of that... Satoru," You turn your head to him and you see light pink decorating his cheeks at the mere sound of his first name leaving your lips. He looks like an idiot in love and you think you hate every second of it, "What do you owe everyone on the list? Why are you in debt?"

His eyes widen and Gojo swallows hard, quickly snatching his gaze off of you and moving his hands to the steering wheel in front of him so that he can start driving. "Does it matter?" He asks you, his brows furrowing.

"I mean, I'm just curious." You say flatly, "How do you even come up with the gift of a whore being your form of payment? And again, what do you owe-"

"Did you just call yourself a whore?" Gojo cuts off.

"Yeah, it's not the first time-"

"Stop that." He says, making a left down the next street, "You're not just some whore, okay?"

"Ohhh so I'm a special whore? Got it." You utter sarcastically.

"I'm serious, don't call yourself a whore. That's not what you are." He says sternly.

"Fine, a slut then." You argue, shrugging a little, "Either way, I'm still spreading my legs for a bunch of guys."

"First off, sluts don't get paid to sleep around, you do." Gojo clarifies, "Secondly, I'm forcing you to do these things so in a sense, you're not a whore."

"But... I am." You argue anyway, "That's what you're using me for so that's what I've become."

"You don't have to claim that, it's degrading your character."

You scoff, "And since when do you care about me degrading my character, Satoru? It's the fucking truth. I fuck people and get paid, know what that means?" You utter sarcastically and slightly bothered, "I'm a whore."

Gojo slams on the brakes and stops the car at a stop sign, turning to you with anger written all over his face, "You're not a whore! Stop fucking saying that." He shouts.

That was his first time ever yelling at you.

A moment of silence fills the air followed by his harsh tone. Hell, you don't even think you've ever seen Gojo so upset over something before. It was weird to see him like this. All the aggravation in his tone and in his expression over a word that's been loosely used plenty of times before?

Your eyes narrow at him, in no world would you let Gojo yell at you and just sit there and take it. "The hell are you so upset for? You've called me a whore yourself-"

"No, I haven't." He interrupts, "Never in my life have I referred to you as a whore."

Your face scrunches up, "Uhm, yes you have? After the first time I slept with Mr. Fushiguro and you saw Choso had taken me home, you called me a whore because you thought I slept with three guys in one day." You recall flawlessly.

Not flawlessly enough though, "No, sweetheart. I asked if you were becoming a whore. I implied it but I never flat-out called you that shit."

"Implying it is practically calling me it, dumbass."

"It's not. If I imply the fact that someone's a bitch, does that make them a bitch?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Exactly. And when I asked if you were becoming a whore it was because I was pissed, not that my emotions make up for it but still." Gojo rambles. He's so passionately aggressive about this topic for some odd reason, "Plus, I don't know if you forgot but I literally told you I never agreed on you becoming a whore."

"I didn't forget but did you forget what I responded to that with?" You ask, annoyed by this conversation. "I asked you if that's what I've been from the start."

"Okay, and-"

"And your response to me was maybe." You finish.

He nods his head and then smiles a bit, still appearing angered, "Then I said the list was different because it was supposed to be you fucking someone once and getting paid, not multiple times."

"Okay, well it's not me fucking someone once. Get over it and pay me like you promised to." You respond simply.

"You don't have to ever worry about me not paying you, sweets. That's not what this conversation was about to begin with." Gojo replies, "I just don't want you to think or feel like you're a whore because you're not."

"That's what I feel like though. I fuck then get paid." You say blatantly, shrugging. "I don't understand how else I'm supposed to feel."

"Lessen the number of times you fuck people and maybe you won't feel like that." He suggests.

That set's you off just right, an annoyed smirk pulling at your lips, "Well, sorry that last night Sukuna left me horny and I happened to run into Mr. Fushiguro at the right time." You say sarcastically.

Gojo opens his mouth to reply but he's cut off by you.

"Sorry that I wanted to have sex last night. Sorry that I got into your car and reminded you that you have to pay me for it because it's what you agreed on." You go off, "Oh, and sorry that these actions of mine all stem from you and this stupid fucking list!"

For a moment, Gojo's quiet. He simply stares at you, the car having yet to move since he stopped it. With perfect timing, a car pulls up behind the two of you. Gojo looks away from you and moves to park the car somewhere.

After that, he sighs and rests his head back, "So you're blaming this on me?"

"Who the fuck else am I supposed to blame?" You snap instantly, having not cooled off at all, "I didn't record myself and threaten me with it. I don't owe a whore to a bunch of people. And I didn't start this damn list."

"Right." He nods, "But you left your door wide open-"

"So that gave you the right to come in and record me?" You fire back.

Gojo scoffs, feeling pissed. "Told' you that was an accident."

"As if I fucking believe that."

"Okay well, you're still the one doing extra shit that has nothing to do with the list-"

"Y'know, I didn't hear you complain this much last week when I slept with you." You cut off, "Funny how you only find this much to bitch about when I'm fucking anyone that's not you more than once."

"First off, I'm not bitching about anything." Gojo clarifies. He's upset with you for the first time and it's unusual to see and experience, "I'm being serious with you right now. You complained about feeling like a whore even though I'm trying to tell you that's not what you are, then, your argument to that is the list? The things that are making you feel like a whore are the things you're bringing on yourself."

Your face scrunches up, "What-"

"I never told you to fuck Suguru more than once. Nobody told you that you had to fuck Mr. Fushiguro twice, and god knows how many times you and Choso had sex." Gojo expresses, "If you feel like a whore, that's not because of me-"

"I wouldn't have slept with any of those people in the first place if it wasn't for you." You remind him for what feels like the millionth time, "Did you forget that?"

"No, I know. But even though it's because of me, you wouldn't have felt like a whore if you only slept with them once like you were supposed to."

"Right," You smile and scoff, "Sure."

"And even if you did feel like one," Gojo slowly turns his head to look at you, his eyes dead serious, "I'd tell you a thousand times over again; you are not a whore."

"Well," You purse your lips together, "I'm turning into one and nothing you say will make me feel like I'm not-"

Gojo interrupts you by saying your name. You think your entire body freezes at the sound. It's always been sweetheart or sweets or love or any affectionate nickname. The last time you heard Gojo say your first name was the day the list started.

You try to continue anyway, "Like I-I'm not a-"

He utters your name yet again, those blue eyes of his drilling into the side of your face.

"N-No, let me finish," You say, your voice softening unintentionally, "There's nothing you can say to make me feel like I'm not a wh-"

First and last, your full name leaves his lips in a low tone.

You grit your teeth and finally shut up.

"Look at me," Gojo orders. You don't and he scoffs. Gojo tips his head to the side a bit and narrows his eyes, "Fucking look at me." He repeats, no malice heard in his tone.

With a roll of your eyes and a huff, you turn to him, "What?"

"You're not a whore." He says, his tone going completely soft, "If you want someone to demean like that, demean me, not yourself."

You blink, not knowing what to say to him anymore.

"But please," Gojo's gaze goes gentle, his face twisting up in sorrow, "Don't call yourself a whore."

"Satoru." You say, voice completely calm, "I-"

For one last time, Gojo cuts you off by voicing your name in a gentle tone. "You are not a whore." He whispers.

You swallow down whatever arguments you had to that. You have no idea what it was about his tone and the look in his eyes but suddenly, you felt that need to argue with him lifted.

"Okay," You whisper in response.

"Say it," Gojo instructs.

With another swallow, "I'm not a whore." You tell him.

A small smile spreads across his face, "Thank you." He utters.

It was weird. Is this the same man who blackmails you? He's whoring you out and yet doesn't want you to refer to yourself as such? Why? What's so significant about that word that you can't call yourself that?

"And uh," Gojo looks away from you, "I'm sorry for yelling at you..."

He mimics that of a sad puppy in a way. His look is almost... cute?

You decide to look away from him as well, "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" He asks timidly as if he regrets blowing up on you so suddenly.

You shrug, "Not really. I don't understand why the hell you got so mad in the first place..."

"I just..." Gojo trails off a little as he stares out the window in front of him, losing himself in thought for a minute. "I don't like hearing you talk about yourself like that. That's why I said if you're looking for someone to demean, demean me. If you're angry or frustrated with your situation," He glances over to you, "Take it out on me."

You blink, "So you just want me to beat up on you whenever I'm mad?"

"If it'll stop you from calling yourself any degrading names then, yes." Gojo expresses to you.

"This is..." You hesitate on your next words but eventually glance at him and continue, "This is oddly sweet of you?"

His eyes meet yours for only a moment before he looks away, "I wish I could be sweet to you all the time."

"You're sweet when you say I love you..." You tell him honestly, quickly adding on an, "I guess..." So that you don't praise him too much.

Gojo perks up and looks over at you, "I am?"

You look in the opposite direction, "I think anyone would be but, yes, you are."

He smiles, "I l-"

"Don't." You cut off, already knowing he was about to utter those three words to you.

He chuckles, "Sorry."

"Anyways, uhm... Don't I have to meet Nanami tonight?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Gojo remembers, moving to comfort himself in his seat since he has no plans on driving until your conversation is completely over. He rests his head on the palm of his hand, holding himself up against the console in between you two. "So remember when I told you he goes to this bar every Friday night?"

"Mhm." You hum in response.

"Well, I did some more research on it and it's more of this fancy nightclub."

A little scoff leaves you and you glance at Gojo, "Nanami goes to a fancy nightclub every Friday night?"

"Okay, it's like seventy-five percent bar and twenty-five percent club." He explains further.

You narrow your eyes at him, "So what are you saying all this for...?"

"For starters, there's a dress code," Gojo says.

"Ohhh, so it's a fancy fancy nightclub." You reply playfully.

He smiles, "Yeah, you'll have to dress pretty classy to get in."

"Okay and if I had to guess," Your head turns to face him completely, "You already bought me a dress for this?"

"Fifteen different ones actually," Gojo corrects.

"F-Fifteen? How much did you spend?!"

He shrugs, "They weren't expensive..."

"The last dress you told me wasn't expensive was almost a thousand dollars..." You state blankly.

"Oh," His eyebrows raise, "Is that considered expensive?"

You scoff in surprise, "Seriously, where the fuck are you getting this money from?"

"Onlyfans," He says with a wink.

"Genuinely can't tell if you're joking or not right now..." You reply, smiling and yet shaking your head at him.

Gojo chuckles at your reaction, "I'm joking, don't worry."

"So where's the money come from?"

"Well, I am popular online and I get paid a lot from that I guess."

You raise a brow, "What exactly do you do online again...?"

"Uhhh..." He trails off, his eyes wandering away from yours.

You chuckle at the way he avoids your eyes, "...You post thirst traps, don't you?"

"N-No..." Gojo mumbles.

You begin to move for your phone, shrugging casually, "I'm gonna check."

Gojo's eyes snap back onto you and they go wide in worry, "Oh my god, please don't."

"Why are you so worried?" You laugh, "I thought you'd be all cocky about this kinda' thing."

He pouts, "Why would I be cocky about you seeing the content I put out..."

"I mean anything online is nothing I haven't seen before." You point out simply, knowing that no amount of thirst traps will compare to literally having sex with the man.

"I..." Gojo swallows hard, "Listen it's not the kind of thirst traps you're thinking of..."

You pause the movement of your fingers and look at him, raising a brow, "So, what, you're not half-naked with red LED lights in the background?"

"Not really." He hums.

"Oh..." You frown dramatically, "Booooringgg."

Gojo chuckles at you before deciding to give you a hint about what he puts out, "If you had to pick one feature about me that you think girls would be into, what would it be?"

"Uhm..." You stare at him for a moment, "Why are you asking me this as if you're literally not Gojo Satoru?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" He blinks.

"You're the walking definition of sex appeal."

His brows raise at your words, "Am I?"

"Human embodiment of sexy." You continue to thoughtlessly compliment.

"Oh really?" Gojo smirks, "Keep going..."

"You're-," You suddenly stop yourself and narrow your eyes at him "Y'know what, I think you get it by now."

"Mhm..." He hums, having enjoyed hearing you compliment him, "Now, tell me just one feature you think girls find overly attractive."

"Just one? There's so many though."

"C'mon, just one."

You shrug, "Your eyes."

He blinks, a noticeable shade of blush spreading across his cheeks immediately in reaction to your words. Gojo is oddly adorable when receiving compliments from you, almost as if he's not used to it.

He bats his eyelashes at you, "My eyes?"

"You literally have blue eyes and white eyelashes," You say flatly, "Why are you acting like you don't get that all the time?"

"I mean it's different coming from you."

"How?"

"That means that's the first thing you notice about me..." He murmurs quietly, nearly missing your ears, "But, no that's not it. Now name something else you think is attractive."

Your eyes search the man for a moment, gazing at his clear skin, pretty face, gorgeous hair, sharp jawline, remembering his abs, thinking about his arms and how they feel, and then finding yourself staring at his hands.

You blink, "Your ha..." You cut yourself off, not wanting to give away the genuine attraction you have for his hands. "Your abs-"

Gojo cuts you off, having heard what you were about to say, "You had the first one right."

"Your hands?!" You gasp.

He smiles, "Why do you sound surprised as if you don't like them yourself-"

"Wait, oh my god, so that means you do hand and finger thirst traps?!" You say with a slightly dropped jaw.

Gojo looks away from you, "On one of my pages, yes. Though, I still don't get the appeal-"

"Gojo your hands are literally perfect." You interrupt.

His ears redden but he looks at you again, moving to put his hand out, "What about them are perfect?"

You inspect the part of his body in question, moving to drag a finger along his skin, "The veins... the length... how soft they are..." You slowly get carried away as you feel them, "...how warm... how deep inside me they reach..."

"Woah," Gojo can't help but flash a toothy smile, "I don't think any of my fans can feel that last one sweetheart-"

"That makes it better for some reason, honestly." You shrug.

"Yeah?" He bites his bottom lip a little, "Y'like knowing that you're the only one who gets to have my fingers deep inside your pu-"

"Stop." You cut off, your face flushing as you look away from him.

He leans just a bit closer to you, "So you can say it but I can't?"

"Your version was going to be far more explicit." You hum, avoiding those teasing looks of his.

"So? It's true." Gojo replies, watching as you feel his hand, "You are the only girl that I've ever fingered after all..."

Your movements come to a stop and you look at him, "Wait what?"

"Hm?" Gojo hums, shifting his hand to hold yours suddenly.

You wanted to stop the gesture but you didn't, "What do you mean I'm the only girl you've ever fingered...?"

His shoulders rise into a shrug and his eyes remain on how small your hand is in his, "Never felt like fingering a girl before you."

"Then how..." You trail off as you recall that moment with him before shaking your head, "Nevermi-"

"How did I know how to do it so well?" He finishes for you.

"I mean... yeah..."

"For starters," Gojo spreads his hand out, having your palm rest over his and comparing the size difference, "I have long fingers so naturally I reach deeper inside you."

"Okay..." You murmur.

"And everything else I just figured out as I did it." He says cheekily, flicking his gaze up to your face, "Didn't expect you to cum from that alone though-"

"Okay okay," Your face flushes a deep shade, "We don't have to talk about it anymore..."

"Aw, why?" He coos, teasing you, "I like remembering that time. Y'know, thinking about how tight your pussy felt around my fingers-"

"Jesus Satoru," Your eyes widened at his lewd words, "Stop it."

"How warm and wet you were for me." He continues nonetheless.

"Satoru-"

A smile spreads across his face at how embarrassed you get in reaction to his words, "The way you moaned my name almost made me cream my pants too-"

"Satoru." You say sternly.

Gojo pulls his lower lip into his mouth for a moment, carefully letting it slide back out as he stares at your face, "Hm? Yes, sweetheart?"

"Stop it." You order.

His fingers suddenly curl in between yours before he pulls your hand up to his mouth, gently kissing the back of it. "Yes ma'am..." Gojo whispers against you.

"Anyway..." You whisper, ignoring how fast your heart is beating, "So taking videos of your hands is how you make money?"

"It's how I make some of it, yeah," Gojo replies, just barely taking his lips off your hand.

You nod, "I see... Well, you're gonna have to explain where the rest of your money is coming from one day because I swear if I find out the money you've given me is illegal or something-"

"It's not, I swear." He reassures you. "I'd give my life savings to you before ever putting you in a position like that."

It's weird but, you smile slightly at his words. Then, you watch in comfortable silence as Gojo moves to kiss the back of your hand over and over. His lips are so soft against your skin, so affectionate, and so utterly loving that it almost infects you.

The hand kisses are enough to give you butterflies and the moment you feel that, you're quick to casually pull your hand away.

Gojo pouts at the loss of your hand but he doesn't say anything, simply moving to finally start driving again.

According to him, you've got fifteen dresses to go through and pick before the night approaches, and then after that; you'll finally meet Nanami.

Or at least, that was the plan. You weren't expecting things to go down the way it did.

No one could prepare you for the feelings that lay deep within the male in the car with you right now...

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Lando Norris HC's

I'm burnt out and exhausted and I just want someone to love me haha

Masterlist

Lando

Where to begin?

He's... something else

Don't get me wrong, he's amazing

What's not to love?

High performance athlete who also streams on Twitch

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend everybody wanted

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend Y/N got

This man? Attention WHORE

He doesn't stop

Comes out with the weirdest stuff

It's so much fun

Wants his girlfriend with him for race weekends

Because he hates going a long time without pissing her off

Very important that his girlfriend gets along with Carlos

She's there when they're pissing about

During their McLaren days?

Mayhem

You kind of have a love every minute of it if you're dating Lando

Sitting in while he streams sometimes

Not every time

But being in the room, doing something while he streamed

Y/N could be doing her own work while Lando gamed and streamed

Chief cuddler

But can't sit still long enough for them to properly cuddle

Loves getting his hair played with

Oooooo running your fingers through Lando Norris' hair? Literally can't imagine anything better

Stealing hats and hoodies purely because they smell like him

Lando loves snogging

Kissing by lamp light, hands on her hips, grip almost bruising

Or his hands would be on her face, pushing away her hair

Man loves marking up

Marking up his girl and being marked up

Aka, hand prints, hickies, scratches down his back

Lando loved that the most

Feeling her nails raking down the skin of his back

Plus, it was easy to hide

Unless he was participating in an ice bath

Then he'd mark her up twice as good, since she couldn't leave marks on him

Out in the club, Lando is very touchy

Aka, doesn't let go of her

Holding her hand

Holding her hips or her ass as they danced

Y/N becoming one of the more photographed WAG's

Simply because she didn't want to stay hidden

She wanted the world to see her with Lando

She wanted the world to know how much she loved her man

After a race, when Lando was in the top three, he'd climb of the car, wave to the crowd, run over to the McLaren team at the barriers to celebrate

And then he'd pull Y/N against the barrier and she'd kiss his helmet, where she'd think his lips would be

Holidays with Lando!!

Oh my god, literally the best

Fancy hotels and Yachts

Adventuring together

Holidaying with other drivers

There was one particular holiday

It was very spontaneous, they hadn't booked anything

Just hopped off a plane and off they went

To the Canary Islands

It was difficult to get a hotel

When they landed, they could only get one

It was... hell

Kids everywhere, booming music like baby shark playing around the pool all day

It was all inclusive, with drunk, neglectful parents spending every minute getting burnt on the sun loungers or around the buffet

Y/N and Lando found themselves as far away from the pool and buffet as they possibly could

Y/N would be reading her book as Lando did... something

When parents came and took their kids for dinner, they got a break from it

They could go in the pool without kids swimming into them

The hotel had crazy golf

Happy Lando

Happy Lando dragging Y/N around the crazy golf course, giggling like a child

Driving with Lando

Ugh, simply the best

Driving around Monaco in the Fiat Jolly (before he sold it) with his hand on her thigh

Driving in any vehicle with Lando's hand on her thigh

Hitting every red light

Kissing at the stop signs (darling)

Lando belting out the lyrics to any song that comes on

Having a car playlist so that the both of them could sing along

Going to Lando's parents for Christmas

Traditional British Christmas

Aka, roast dinner, pulling crackers, drinking, playing board games and ending the night with a cheese board

Taking his girlfriend around Guildford while they're in the UK

(I'm pretty sure it's Guildford - a youtube video from five years ago just popped up which said Guildford)

(Guildford is the halfway point between where I live now and where I actually live)

After a year and a half, Lando asks her to move in with him

Six months after that, they get a dog

A Doberman, collie, or golden retriever, I think

The name? Badger

Why? Daniel

Aka, Daniel knew the couple were going to adopt a dog

He had to get himself involved somehow and

He placed a wager - if Lando finished below P5 he'd get to name the dog

Y/N readily accepted

Lando DNFed that race

And so, the dog was named after the honey badger himself

To this day, Lando doesn't know

Lando is such a good dog dad

The dog doesn't come to the race weekends like Roscoe does with Lewis

Either Y/N stays home or the dog stays with a trusted friend if they had both gone

Lando's social media becomes a fan account for the dog

Having oh so many pregnancy scares with this man

Who doesn't love a late night run to the shop to get a pregnancy test or two?

They do eventually get pregnant

Y/N finds out on a race weekend

She was at home with Badger when she saw the pregnancy test in her bathroom cabinet

Video calling her best friend, Y/N took it

She waited the mandatory couple of minutes before she checked the little stick

She had to hang up on her friend

It was just meant to be for fun

Nothing serious

But then it turned serious

What the fuck was she going to do?

When the fuck would she tell Lando?

Should she tell him now, before he's about to go and race?

Yeah no, not a chance

Not with how much she was currently freaking out

She waits until he gets home from the race weekend

The test (and all of the others she'd done) had been thrown in the bin

All she had was herself

This was fine

She wasn't freaking out

(she was freaking out big time)

Y/N stayed up, waiting with Badger for Lando to come home

As soon as the door opened, she jumped up and faced him

Lando dropped his things when he saw her

He'd assumed she'd been asleep when he got in

But no, she was still awake

And he'd been waiting for him

Warmth spread through him

Normally, when Y/N waited up for Lando, she'd jump into his arms

But not this time

She just stood there, staring at him

"I've got something to tell you"

Anxiety spread through Lando

Y/N told him

He dropped to his knees

Well, his one knee

For the longest time Lando had been looking for a sign that he should propose

He wanted to, he desperately wanted to

He was just looking for some sort of sign

This wasn't a sign, it was a slap in the face

With all of the racing, Lando hadn't yet managed to buy her a ring

He'd really meant to

When he got down onto one knee, it was at the very back of his mind

"Marry me?"

Yeah, that was how he asked

Of course, Y/N said yes

Lando began running around, looking for some rope or yarn or twine that he could wrap around her finger until he got a proper ring

708 notes · View notes

turquoisenintendo64 · 7 days

Text

Love Comes to Everyone !

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂

in which: a daughter of aphrodite is camp half-blood’s matchmaker, but can’t seem to find someone for herself.

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader

part 1

warnings: use of y/n, there is no such thing as forbidden children, percy has a little half-sister, pipabeth implied

a/n: part 2 of love comes to everyone!! this took me less than i thought. i’m so happy the part 1 got so much love <33

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂

you and percy were watching mary from afar, sitting on a tree branch, as she was playing with two apollo kids.

she hadn’t been claimed yet, what saddened you.

“have you eaten a whole lemon before?” percy asked, gaze fixed in mary.

“too sour,” you answered. “… have you?”

“it’s good,” he chuckled.

one of the apollo kids that were playing with mary approached you.

“i don’t think she’s a daughter of apollo,” she said, showing you four broken bows. “and she sings terrible.”

“well, we’ve tried everything,” he got up. “i surrender.”

you grabbed him by the shirt.

“we’re not leaving her until she gets claimed,” you said. “understood?”

he sighed, then grinned. “yes ma’am.”

you held mary’s hand, and led her to the dining pavilion.

“can i eat with you?” she asked, looking up at you and percy.

you shared a look.

“you have to eat at-“

“sure,” percy cut you off, “we’ll sit at my table, i’m the only one in it anyway.” he said, looking at you.

you explained offerings to mary, and after her many questions of why gods could possibly like the smell of burnt mac and cheese, she decided to give up her strawberries.

mary asked percy about his parents, and you noticed how he talked a lot about his mom and just a bit about his dad, even though mary was asking about poseidon all the time.

you went back to your cabin, finding annabeth and piper cuddling in piper’s bed while they talked in whispers. they told you they were going to have a picnic, if you wanted to go with them.

but you were not in the mood to third wheel your sister and her girlfriend, so you declined the offer. in addition, you had promised percy to accompany him while he showed mary around the beach.

you picked a blue dress and took a shower.

you blow dried your hair and asked one of your sisters to fish-braid your hair, and got frustrated when it didn’t look how you wanted. when it finally looked good for you, she helped you do your make up. natural, you didn’t want to seem desperate.

when you were all done you took a minute to think why were you trying so hard to look really good if you were just going to the beach with a little girl and a friend. right?

and to think that you subconsciously wore blue because you know percy’s favourite colour is blue.

you still denied having feelings for him, though. thinking, or rather, knowing he could have anyone much better than you.

but you couldn't help thinking he meant himself when he told you the one for you was closer than you thought. no, no chance.

you couldn't ask him, obviously not, he would probably laugh in your face and tell you you were deluded.

but everything with him felt so intimate, for some reason. you have been hanging out much more since mary arrived to camp, as she refused to be with anyone else that wasn’t you both. every glance, laugh, hug or smile felt way more intimate than it actually was, and you could not bare it.

so you did the cowardly thing, you avoided him.

you stopped talking to him completely, walking the other way when he was coming in your direction. this led you to not spend time with mary, too, since she was with percy all the time.

you didn’t want to be far from them, though. you felt really close with both of them. and you lost track of the moment when you stopped being with mary because you had to and started being with her because you wanted to.

you loved mary. she was the sweetest girl you have ever met, and you wanted to be around her all the time and be part of her life at camp half-blood. but she reminded you too much of percy.

but your unstoppable feelings went worse when piper told you the three of you looked like a happy family.

so you convinced yourself that’s how it had to be. away from them, so you wouldn’t fall in love with someone who was with you for duty and not want.

“y/n,” piper called, opening the bathroom door, where you were brushing your hair. “mary’s at the door, asking for you.”

you frowned slightly and headed to the door. you haven’t talked to mary in weeks, yet she still smiled at you as bright as ever.

“hi y/n!” she waved effusively, and her poorly done pigtails shook.

“hi mary,” you smiled sweetly at her, guilt consuming your head suddenly.

“i’ve missed you, where have you been?” she asked, and even more guilt flooded in.

she was just a little girl, leaving her without explanation was wrong.

but you still thought it was the best.

“i was busy, sorry. come in.” you stepped aside and she walked in, rather jumping than walking.

“can you do my hair? percy’s terrible at it, he can’t even do pigtails!” she pointed to her head.

“pigtails are the easiest thing ever, but he has short and always-perfect hair, so he doesn’t need to care about hairstyles,” you said.

you entered the bathroom again, and she entered before you.

you sat crisscrossed in the floor and she mirrored your action, sitting in front of you. you undid her pigtails and brushed her hair gently.

“you’re right, he’s just a boy,” she said matter-of-factly. you snorted.

“do you want pigtails or braids?”

“pigtails. percy has missed you too, by the way.”

you paused some seconds to process it, blinked a few times and continued brushing her hair.

“is that so?”

“yes. he was always expecting you to come with us, and was really sad when you never showed up.”

now you felt even more guilty. you knew they would get upset with your sudden disappearance, but hearing it directly was different.

“i’m sorry, i was busy with… things. thoughts,” you explained.

“don’t worry, it was fun with percy. he gave me one of his plushies, a dolphin. he told me dolphins are actually evil, but i think they are cute. he also gave me a magazine about sea animals,” she told you, excited. “i love sea animals, and percy knows a lot about them.”

“did you know percy can talk with them?” you said.

“yes! he told me. i had a fish, his name was robert. he always talked to me about his wife he left in the sea. i felt guilty and took him to the beach and-“

“you understood your fish? like you knew what he was saying?”

“yes. but percy does too, isn’t that normal?”

you did her pigtails quickly and rushed out of your cabin.

even though you were literally ignoring him and have been doing that for weeks, you ran to percy.

“percy,” you called.

he turned around, and his bright smile dropped, turning into a surprised look.

“y/n? where have you been? i haven’t seen you in-“

“mary is your sister,” you blurted out.

“what?”

“she’s a daughter of poseidon.”

he frowned.

“how do you know that? why do you appear suddenly and say something like that?”

you sighed. “she had a fish. robert. she could understand the fish, percy.”

he seemed too stunned to say anything. you didn’t know if it was for what you just say, or the bottled up anger he had towards you in that very moment.

in your staring-in-silence moment, you heard splashes of water. but it wasn’t until you heard gasps that you went to see what it was.

mary was fighting with a boy, visibly older than her, in the lake. she went to push him, but a wave of water took him down.

percy was going to get her, but you stopped him.

“wait,” you told him, with your hand resting in his chest. he tensed at your touch.

she looked scared, you wanted to go with her too. but you knew what could come next.

and you were right.

a huge, glowing trident appeared on top of her head, and everyone bowed.

mary now looked even more scared, and she ran towards you and percy.

“what is that?” she asked. the symbol faded, and she hugged you two tightly.

“you have been claimed,” percy told her. “by poseidon.” he smiled at her.

she looked up at him, with teary eyes.

“does that mean you are my brother?” she asked, joy suddenly turning her before sad eyes happy.

“yes,” he said, chuckling.

“mary wheeler,” you heard chiron say. he smiled warmly at her. “daughter of poseidon.”

“it fits,” you said, caressing her back.

“now we are going to be roommates, and we can share all of my plushies and magazines.” mary let out a laugh that melted your heart.

percy looked at you, smiling softly. you felt guilty again, for leaving them. but now you were together again.

you thought about your growing feelings, and if it was a good idea to speak about them. not in that moment, definitely.

you felt like you had to tell him whatever was going through your head, and maybe he would understand how stupidly you had acted. so you told him to meet you at the time of the campfire, so no one could bother you.

you found yourself stressing over looking good again, and wearing blue.

you heard piper snorting. she was leaning against the bathroom door as you were doing your makeup.

“what now?” you said.

“nothing,” and she walked away.

you rolled your eyes.

that’s too much blush. now i look like i just died. wrong shade. that was your train of thought as you got ready.

since when was having a crush so difficult?

you walked out the bathroom. everyone was already at the campfire, so your cabin was empty. you saw percy outside of your cabin, and suddenly you had the urge to change the jeans you were wearing, but it was too late.

you opened the door and smiled at percy.

“hey,” you greeted.

“hi,” he said back. he looked a bit sad, yet he was smiling.

you were grinning now, your cheeks almost hurting. gosh, you were absolutely nervous right now.

you closed the door and sat down at the stairs of the porch.

you stayed in silence for what felt like hours, none of you brave enough to break it. you had the feeling that he was just as nervous as you.

“what happened? why did you avoid me?” he asked, looking at you. he looked like a sad puppy.

“nothing. i didn’t mean to upset you, really, i was busy and confused with…” you paused, “something.”

“you could’ve talked to me. we’re friends, you can trust me,” he said, and you gave him a lopsided smile.

“i know, i know. i’m so sorry, i really am,” you said avoiding his gaze. your cheeks started to turn red and your words to trip. “i could not tell you what was happening. it was… it is difficult to say and…” you groaned.

he was still looking at you, patient. waiting for you to come up with something. something that could answer everything he has been questioning.

his green eyes were deep, deeper now than ever. the chill night breeze was brushing through his hair, and yours.

he was looking at your hair, and how beautiful it looked. how beautiful you looked. in the nightlight, you looked like you were glowing, natural spark emanating from you.

your flushed cheeks were even more bright. percy felt the need to hold your face and caress it. to touch you, hold you, kiss you.

he just wanted to be as close as possible to you, and not let you go away ever again.

“i’ve been feeling kind of weird lately,” you started.

he nodded.

“but not in a bad way, i think. i feel weird when i’m around you, i feel so nervous and anxious. i have a strange feeling in my when i think about you, as if someone was holding my heart.”

he suppressed a smile. but to you, it looked like he was disgusted with your words.

“what i mean is… i think i like you, percy. no, not like you. i think i’m falling in love with you, and that’s scary. super scary. i’ve been thinking for so long that maybe you like me too. remember that time when you told me love takes time? and maybe the one for me was closer than i thought? well, i couldn’t stop thinking that maybe you meant the one for me was you, but that doesn’t make sense and… i’m so sorry,” you finished. you hid your face in your knees and heard him laughing.

oh.

oh no.

he was laughing.

he was laughing at you.

this was the moment when he tells you ‘you have been being delusional this whole time!’ and leaves you alone. this was it, the end of the world.

oh holy aphrodite, if you are hearing me, please-

“i’m in love with you too.”

“i knew you would say that and- wait,” you looked at him.

his smile was as bright and big as the sun, and his cheeks were flushed, just like yours.

“you are?” you asked.

“i’ve always been. i really thought i was pretty obvious but… apparently everyone knew except you.”

you took a moment to stare at him a little longer. maybe now it was more appropriate, considering he was doing the same thing.

“you are gorgeous. it makes me kind of mad,” you told him. a laugh slipped from his lips, and you felt the need to kiss him until you were out of breath.

“well, you are beautiful,” he responded.

just now you realised how close he was. his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, and he didn’t let you much time to react when he leaned in to kiss you.

you kissed him back, caressing the back of his neck.

his hands traveled to your hips and he pulled you closer. you felt him smile in the kiss.

the kiss shifted from sweet to more passionate. his hands were all over you, touching you like he feared you would disappear.

you pulled away, he followed your lips as you separated.

“your chapstick tastes good,” he joked. you chuckled softly.

“it’s blueberry,” you told him.

“wear it more, i like it,” he stroked your hand.

you smiled at him lovingly.

you loved him, and he loved you too. finally someone loved you too.

you’ve spent your whole life waiting for your turn to be loved, and now he was in front of you.

you were glad it was percy. it couldn’t be anyone but him.

annabeth and piper were hiding behind a tree, looking at you.

“great,” piper said. “now we owe mary five bucks.”

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #aphrodite #cabin 10 #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson one shot #percy jackson fic

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steddieasitgoes · 3 months

Text

written for @steddielovemonth Day 7 prompt: Love is: Silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favorite. Rating: T (for suggestive language) | no cw

Eddie wouldn’t call Steve a push over, he’s witnessed him annihilate the kids with a bitchy retort and a pointed stare too many times for it to be true, but there are times when Steve’s soft center oozes out, allowing the ones he loves to walk all over him.

Like when it comes to food.

Eddie’s always known Steve’s willing to share his food with his friends. He witnessed it enough times in the Hawkins High cafeteria — Steve wordlessly passing Tommy his unopened applesauce seconds after he finished his own or scooting his tray closer to Carol when she opted for a salad and looked at her choice with regret.

It’s only gotten worse though.

Now, Steve’s plate barely gets set in front of him before there are hands making passes at it. Dustin’s grubby paws snatching the pickle spear from the plate, Max and Erica harvesting his fries until all that’s left are the burnt and wonky ones, Mike and Lucas occasionally shoveling spoonfuls of Mac and cheese into their mouths before it’s even had a chance to cool. Even Robin gets in on it, swiping a slice of garlic toast from his plate like some feral bird.

And Steve never says anything.

Well, most of the time.

If anyone ever takes something he really wants — like the time Dustin tried to get a sip of his Neapolitan shakes a few weeks back — bitchy Steve comes out in force, defending his food with the same ferocity he used to rip a demobat apart with his bare hands in the Upside Down.

With that knowledge in mind, Eddie comes to the conclusion that pickles, fries, Mac and cheese, and occasionally thick slices of garlic toast are low on Steve’s favorite food list.

So, one can imagine Eddie’s surprise when he excuses himself from the movie marathon going on in the living room of Steve’s place in search of a beer refill to find Steve chomping on a pickle spear in the bright light of the fridge.

The sight is something, sure. Especially the way Steve’s sweatpants strain against his ass as he squats to put the jar back. But Eddie doesn’t want to get caught intruding on Steve’s secret pickle whims so he quietly retreats to the living room — beerless, sure, but with a lot on his mind that he doesn’t even care.

If Steve liked pickles all this time, why hasn’t he told Dustin off for always stealing his? And if he’s secretly harboring a love of pickles, what else is he selflessly giving up without anyone knowing? Does Robin know about his pickle love affair?

Eddie spends the rest of the night rethinking everything he’s thought he’s ever known about Steve until he’s so worked up he makes up some lame excuse about needing to help Wayne with some yard work in the morning and leaves right in the middle of the third movie of the night.

On his drive home, he comes to the conclusion that he’s not going to let Steve miss out on pickles anymore. Not if he can help it.

Operation Save Steve’s Pickle gets put in motion the following day when Eddie is summoned via Dustin’s booming voice over the walkie-talkie to lunch to make up for his abrupt departure last night.

It’s business as usual so far in the diner, just with fewer faces. Steve, Robin, and Dustin are the only ones in attendance today, making the corner booth more spacious than it has ever been.

Eddie feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins as the waiter approaches with their food. He might not be running for his life this time around, but his heart sure hasn’t gotten the memo practically beating out of his chest in anticipation of what he’s about to do.

Like clockwork, Steve’s plate is set in front of him and Dustin’s hand snatches the pickle without a second thought. The little shit even has the audacity to take a bite, juices pouring down his chin, as he lets them all know that it’s the best pickle yet.

Eddie wants to strangle him, but he refrains and sticks to the plan. When Steve’s preoccupied lathering his burger in more ketchup than one person should consume, he picks up his untouched pickle spear and slides it onto Steve’s plate.

“Are you giving Steve your pickle right now?” Dustin screeches, drawing the attention of everyone in the crowded diner.

“Maybe don’t phrase it like that, please,” Robin chimes in, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

Eddie can’t help but bark out a laugh before glancing at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with the pickle on his plate. He’s pretty sure he sees the smallest twitch of his lips, threatening to pull into a real smile but gets interrupted from watching the sight by Dustin’s hand. Eddie swats it away.

“What the hell!” Dustin groans, massaging the back of his reddening hand. “If you’re going to share your pickle, you should give it to me, not Steve. He doesn’t even like them”

“Except he does.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Steve,” Eddie huffs, turning in the booth to face him. “Can you please tell this insufferable know-it-all that you do like pickles? Like them so much you have a secret jar in your fridge?”

“I mean, yeah I do—wait how do you know about the secret jar?”

“I caught you eating one last night.”

“You have a secret jar of pickles in your fridge that you’ve never told me about?”

“That is what secret means,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes. “You get my pickle every time we come here. Why should I share them at home too?”

“This is a betrayal of epic proportions!” Dustin whines.

“Oh can it, Henderson. Go back to eating your lunch and let Stevie here enjoy a pickle from Sue’s for once in his life!”

Surprisingly, the kid actually listens to Eddie and the table launches into silence except for the crunching of fries and pickles in Dustin’s case because Steve still hasn’t touched his.

Eddie nudges Steve’s forearm, “Better get to it before Henderson makes another pass for it.”

“We could share?”

“No need. This one’s all you.”

Steve gives Eddie one of his uncharacteristically soft smiles before taking a heaping bite out of the pickle. Juice dribbles down Steve’s chin but he doesn’t seem to mind judging by the pure bliss on his face. Eyes closed and head tipped back as if he…

Jesus H. Christ

Maybe giving Steve his pickle wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Holy shit,” Steve moans, taking another bite. “This is the best pickle I’ve ever tasted. Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie's stunned for a moment, eyes locked on Steve's throat, watching as he swallows before he comes to his senses.

“You can have my pickle anytime, Stevie,” he says without thinking, high off Steve's pickle-drunk expression.

It is not until Robin groans and they all erupt into a fit of laughter does the euphemism lands on Eddie. He didn’t mean it like that, not in the slightest. But hey, if Steve wants that pickle too, Eddie’s sure as hell not going to say no.

#steddielovemonth #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie pov #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #dani writes

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt. 4)

Ranchero AU! Miguel x f! Reader

WARNINGS: clasism, Telenovela level Drama, fluff.

Summary: Against all odds, a new life starts ahead with Miguel.

Intro:

Ever since Miguel had came into your life, it felt like a new perspective of how to truly live was revealed to you. He was a simple yet hardworking man. He was everything you weren't. An opposite really.

He had his temper, he knew hardwork possibly from a young age, he knew patience, he knew how to enjoy the little things and appreciate them. He enjoyed his life, his work. Enjoyed you.

Contrary to him, you were sometimes spoiled, Luis your horse was the proof, you were treated like a porcelain doll and not allowed to do hard work, possibly getting too comfortable in the fact that you'd always have what you currently did, you were a socialité, an expensive doll according to some rejected marriage prospects, that if you wished you could get a whole stable full of horses within days.

And of course, the Pastor's daughter. You were immaculate, pure and a perfect soon to be wife. You didn't know hardships, the only outstanding thing that made you "different" was your good aim at shooting. Your ex fiancé, a man from another wealthy family, was the one that taught you that out of boredom. He was the only most exciting thing that had happened in your life so far.

Till Miguel came.

He had swooped off your feet, showed and taught you so many things you were good at, but none really had taken their time to teach you. Not that he minded you being a spoiled princess, like some workers called you behind your back. You liked animals, being around them, but your ever perfect mother was always prying you from that. From anything that involved looking imperfect really.

Ah your mother.

The natural enemy of everything Miguel rendered. Perfectionist, shallow, clasist, oh but never racist. Like if that feature alone saved her from the rest of her twisted virtues. She took her role as a socialité seriously, more than you ever did. Parties were the only sort of meaningful thing you had, you could have fun, be yourself for a bit and forget about being the Pastor's daughter and setting the example within your circle, as usual.

Not that you minded, God and church had always played a huge part of your life ever since you had conscience. But in reality, you never really meddled too much in it, it was just for the sake of pretense.

Pretension, that's what your life really was about.

Friends weren't really friends, just acquaintances that you stumbled upon often, playing their part in the game of conceit. Just approaching you when they needed something, like everyone really. Your father was always busy, more married to church than your own mother. You didn't know if your mother resented it, neither cared.

All you could think was how this tall, tanned, strong, mulish, resolute, terse of a man was gentle, loving, unabashedly in love and oh so hot and bothered for you. You still couldn't quite believe that he was in love. At first you thought it was a game, something to just get his spite out from the constant implicit belittling your mom and sometimes your dad partook in.

But the way he held you, the way he looked at you, kissed you, touched you, made love to you, had proved you wrong. He knew what he wanted out of life.

"Solo imagínate, Cerecita. Tú, yo, una gran finca, muchos animales e hijos." (Just Imagine, Cerecita. You, me, a large estate, lots of animals and kids.)

He used to dream about it during pillow talk. You'd lie on his chest while he talked about his dreams, and the very thought would make you giggle and kick your feet.

Miguel was a certified farm manager. After all, you parents estate produced pure breed horses, foods like cheeses, milk and seeds.

You knew how to manage the food area since, your mother though it suited you more, instead of having back breaking and skin burnt jobs like the men. But once you entered the mid twenties, your 'work' turned strictly executive. Helping your parents with the office automation of the whole management.

So far a good job, but you knew it was only a deceit to make you look more suitable for those that showed the littlest of interest in you. Sometimes you felt your parents were offering your hand in marriage to anyone with enough money on their pockets.

Although their steadfast resolution to get you a good husband never died, you didn't want any strangers and play date with them. You wanted Miguel.

He had treated you like a normal person, not like a China doll, not someone fragile. He taught you things that you didn't even know you could do. You were good at gardening, feeding the animals, small little tasks that people around you had denied or thought you too dumb to do.

He had expanded your prospect of just being a trophy wife. You were always learning from him, but soon, harvest season and renovations around the farm started and you saw him led You also had your own share of work.

Work that somehow had made your stress levels to rise so high that your period had been delayed. You still wished that you could repeat the last session you had in his room in the barn weeks ago. The mere though of his display of prowess in bed had made you clench.

No other man could compare him really. You sometimes daydreamed about having more time alone with him, talking about your fears and hopes, everything that made you both who you were.

But a hurling wave of nauseas shot through your system as you rushed to your bathroom, emptiying your stomach's content down the toilet. And still no sign of your period.

---

You thought that avoiding certain foods would actually make the sickness that sat heavily on your stomach to go away, but it had only turned worse. You'd have these spasms of nausea through the day. And your suspicions only grew one day that one of your friends had gotten an apple pie nearby you. The smell so pungent to your senses that made you retch a little while after.

"Migraines for the strongest smells are the worst" one of them commented, trying to not pry too much on the obvious. It wasn't the time to prey on gossip.

------

You had woken up nauseous and queasy, for the third time in a row, at this point your mother was concerned. Had something made you sick? Food poisoning?

Of course the kitchen staff would hear a mouthful of her concern. She was stricter regarding the way your foods were made. Unavoidable realization hit harder than your mother swatting your head when you ogled at Miguel a second too longer.

Swallowing hard after retching in the bathroom again, the moment you smelled your morning soup, filled your eyes with tears.

How could you not notice? How could've you be so stupid? Sure stress had made you sometimes cause an anomaly in your cycle, and you though it was the case, but seeing the two positive parallel lines on the pregnancy test, only made your eyes turn glossier and wet.

You were pregnant.

Almost two months and counting. You barely had the chance of seeing Miguel anymore. Oh, Miguel. What would he think of it? Would he be mad? Sure you were his girl, but nothing else had been spoken further. Would he still want you?

God, you were so scared. You knew how your parents thought of him, and for all you knew, they still thought you were pure, immaculate, a good example to every lady in the little town.

They'll find out.

Of course they would. Sooner or later they'd find out. Probably kick him out and you'd be forced to marry a guy that looked like him to make pass the child as his. Right?

No. Your parents wouldn't be that bad. Nah, knowing how your father had done so many shotgun weddings because of sinful pregnancies told you that everything was possible. They were none to be underestimated. The thought scared you shitless, so you washed your mouth, bathed, got dressed and went to him.

The more you approached the antsier you got. He was talking to another helper, the talks of a new mare being brought spreaded through fast in the estate. However upon noticing you, he cut the conversation short and came to you. Like a magnet.

His smile faltered when your whole frame came into view, solemn look, and red nose by the constant sniffling.

"Hey, hey. Come here. ¿Qué le pasa a mi chula?" (What's wrong, gorgeous?)

You whimpered and buried your face in his chest. He held you tightly.

"It's fine, yeah? Wanna talk about it?"

You clung to him.

"You mom got you on another date?" He rolled his eyes and you shook your head with a shaky sob.

"Your dad tried to sell Luis again?" Another shake of your head.

"Then what is it? You gotta tell me, princesa."

He cupped your face gently and wiped your tears.

"I..." You hiccuped, "I think I'm pregnant."

You could feel him tense and he made you look at him directly. A glint in his eyes shining brighter than when he was popping your cherry.

"¿Voy a ser papá?" (Am I gonna be a dad?)

He questioned with a excited yet strained voice. You just stared at him and he kissed you, deeply.

"¡Me vas a hacer papá!" (You're making me a dad!)

His hands shook you softly. He could stop marveling at the fact that finally one of his dreams were coming true. But you seemed off, shut off to his joy.

"Why... Why are you crying? You don't... want it?

" No, no. It's not that, Miguel. I'm... scared. I'm so scared" You sniffed and he kissed your forehead.

"Dad will kill you."

He chuckled and nodded

"Might as well chase me down with a gun." His hand was placed on your lower belly.

"He might kick you out and..." You hiccuped and he just held you with a smile.

" Ps, que me eche. And if... things get bad, you'll come with me. Okay?" He squeezed you tightly and grunted happily, "Dios te vas a ver preciosa con esa panza toda grandota y redonda. Te voy a cuidar, vas a ser mi reina. Ya vas a ver."

(He can do that.) (God, you'll look gorgeous with that big and round belly. Imma take care of you, you'll be my queen. You'll see.)

He just kept rambling things you couldn't understand, but seeing him overjoyed made your aching heart to relax.

"I'll talk to him. I... Le voy a pedir tu mano." (Imma ask him your hand in marriage)

"W-What? are you sure of it?"

"You thought I was kidding when I told you that I wanted you for myself?"

His eyes softened

"I might not have much, or give you this kind of life you're so used to, yet, but... You have me. I want this with you." The steadfastness in his words made your heart leap and flutter.

"What if he says no?"

"You're coming with me anyways. Can't leave my future wife here knowing what they are capable of."

"God help us. Mom will be...-"

"Don't worry your pretty head over it."

"I do worry. She's... you know how she is. And what he thinks of you."

"Eso es lo de menos." (That's the least of my concerns)

"How far are you?"

"Seven weeks."

He cradled you. Arms full of love and devotion.

"They're coming back tomorrow"

"I know. Pack whatever you think is worth packing, and try to rest."

He slept with a smile on his face that night.

-----

"Papa?" You knocked and he called you in. Miguel awaited outside the office. To your surprise your mother was with him, discussing something. Mid day sun hid behind heavy dark clouds.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I... eh. Wanna talk to you both."

"Oh?"

"You alright, Mija?"

You nodded and sighed.

"You know how... you are always talking about me getting married, serving in church and the like, right?"

"Of course dear. We wouldn't want it other way."

Your mother gasped as excitement crossed her features

"You... You want to get married?! Oh dear.! I thought I ever hear that from you! I was growing concerned, really. Thought that... farm boy had done something to you."

"Mom-"

"I know he is wicked!"

"Let her speak. Don't take inspiration from her." your dad grumbled and the nausea crept up to you. Maybe it wasn't a good idea, but you were already here and see this through.

"What kind of man you both envision for me?"

"A hardworking one, that fears God, that treats you like we have, spoils you, that he knows your worth."

Ironically they had described most of Miguel's traits.

"Someone who knows that you aren't cheap. That isn't afraid of investing on you like you deserve"

Someone wealthy, of course that's what your mom would say.

"What about someone different?" Your hands fiddled nervously as your eye casted down.

"Different how, sweetie? You deserve better. Not different."

"Maybe I do want different, Papa"

Your name was chided as he looked at you with sternness.

"Different how?"

Sighing you stood and motioned for Miguel to approach. Your parents face fell instantly as he crossed the door.

"W-What is this?" You mother mumbled with a gasp as you sat with Miguel across your parents, entwining your fingers together.

"You're always saying that... You want a hard working man for me, right?"

"Yes, but not him." your dad nearly hissed through gritted teeth, "Do you know how many others are waiting for you to just look their way?"

Miguel chuckled and removed his hat.

"Too bad for them" You grumbled.

"Sir, suegrito, with all due respect your daughter-" (Father in law)

"Jesus Christ... How can you be so condescending?! Know your place!" Your mother shrieked.

Miguel's eye twitched slowly but remained shut.

"You think you can give her what we have? What could possibly a man such as yourself could provide her?"

"More than all those pretty boys that parade around but are useless for working, that's for sure."

"We'll too bad, cause she's already settled for another date!"

"I don't want another of your dates, mom."

"What did you just say to me, little brat?!"

"That I don't want dates! They're boring, they always talk about money and they're so shallow! I have enough of that kind of people"

Your mother prayed as your father rubbed his face in frustration.

"Like... You're always saying how you want the best for me, how you want a hardworking man for me. Miguel is that. He just... he is so smart and has given me a chance to try things I have never done before! I am good at things you said I wasn't! He... he loves me."

His grip on your hand tightened for a bit, reassuringly despite your mother's mocking cackling.

" He loves you?! Cariño... He's only been here for six months and you think this... man, loves you? Don't be ridiculous. He just wants your money. You think I don't know people like him?!"

Your eyes were slowly drooping and blurring with angry tears.

"Evidently not, cause if you gave him a chance to-"

"Never. You are not staying with him. Look at you, sweetie. You are pretty, you are young! Rich! You can have anyone you want"

"If that's so, won't you let me have him then?"

"This is just another of your whims. You're dragging him to this." You dad gestured to Miguel.

"It's not! I'm old enough to make my own choices-"

"And what could you possibly know about life?"

"Certainly more than you actually think. And I would've known more if all this time you wouldn't have treated me like I was fragile and stupid! I wanna be more than just... a stupid trophy wife"

"What would be the difference with him?"

"That he actually teaches me how to work, dad. I know I am pretty, but that won't take me far. Beauty fades, but... knowledge in life is something you earn, that you shape. And Miguel has helped me realize that. That's why I love him."

"You don't love none-"

"Don't project on me, mom."

Her dolled up eyes widened in disbelief at your words.

"You brat!"

"Look at you. Is this what he has taught you as well? To disrespect your mother?"

"Oh please! Don't talk about respect when even you at times give him a bad time unnecessarily. Look at what he has done so far! Look at Agustín! None wanted to be near him and you even wanted to sacrifice him cause you couldn't handle him!"

"This conversation is getting tiring."

Your stomach bubbled.

"I will marry him. With or without your blessing."

"No. You won't cause you will marry a decent man! Not this... This..."

"Say it" Miguel growled as his arms crossed. He'd do things his way anyways. He was just being civil and respectful enough about the whole thing.

"A Nobody" His fist clenched.

"Stop." You stood in between them, "Stop." your tone warning.

"Or what? Just imagine the scandal!! You are shaming us! What would the people say?!"

"Shame us? Are you serious right now? You deserve to be shamed! You profess about God and his love at your church and how much we gotta love eachother yet you treat people like shit. You specially mom."

A slap. Hard, burning in your face.

Shock plastered in your crying face, Miguel stood and prowled your way, your mother recoiled at him approaching.

"See? You can't teach me about love cause you love none!" Miguel held you in his arms as you tried to get to your mom.

"Take all the money from me if you want, but I refuse to marry someone for the money like you did. I refuse to be like you and this loveless marriage you have!"

Now it was his turn to try and stop your mother getting at you. Your dad shot in the air, startling everyone in the room. The rushed steps of people outside scattered around. Even the staff could hear everything that was happening.

"Don't touch me!" She pried herself away from him.

All the emotions made your head spin, Miguel pushed gently your mother away to hold your careening form before you could actually collapse.

"Cerecita!" You held onto him, then held your mouth. You guided him to your dad's office bathroom to just spill the contents of your upset stomach.

"Dios mío..." The annoying voice that always belittled him broke, realizing what was going on right away.

"No... No no. You... You couldn't. Why?!"

Your mother shrieked in horror. So many emotions were going through your father's face. Disappointment and a silent rage. The latter aimed at Miguel.

"¡Ya cállese, señora!" (Just shut up already) Miguel roared and your mother stood frozen in the spot. Too angry and stunned to actually do something.

Miguel helped to clean up after yourself, then you stood, facing your parents. You had expected them opposing, but not this bad. Not like this.

"Are you okay?" His eyes softened as he cupped your cheeks with concern. You just nodded, still feeling weak.

"I'll marry him. And that's not up to discussion. And I will do it, with or without your blessing. Understood?"

"Since you are making your own decisions now, I'll have to ask you to pack your things and leave tomorrow morning with your... man. You want to get married? So be it. You see... When you are going to venture in these sort of things, a house on your own its the first thing you must have.-"

"Don't worry about that, Patrón." Miguel's voice laced with venom, "It might not be like this pompous state, but at least it's mine. And none shall ever disrespect her or me again."

"You're fired."

Miguel smirked

"I expect my complete payment in my account then. Wouldn't like to return for a check."

You were taken to your room by some of the staff. As they prepared you something to eat. Your mother, Rosaura, was long gone from the scene.

"Too bad you're too stuck up to actually see that I did try and make the right thing with your daughter. I might not be what you wanted for her, but... I am what she wants and that's more than enough for me, sir." Miguel's voice only matched the steely glare your father made his way.

"Don't expect to see your grandchild."

"Don't worry. That wretched child is none of my concern"

"No le escupa al cielo, suegrito." (Don't spit to the sky)

His tone a warning as he tipped his hat and left.

-------

Morning came and some people of the staff were helping you pack things, Pastor William refused to wed you. Rosaura had barely showed up, just gave you a quick despising glare.

"You're really leaving miss?"

"Yeah. I can't stay here."

"Wouldn't that be harmful for the baby?"

You shook your head.

"It'll hurt more if I stay."

"We'll miss you."

"I'll miss you guys too. Thanks for... teaching me so much."

Your dad was a silent spectator, Miguel helped to put your things in his old truck. There was a genuine smile on your face everytime you looked at your future husband. William could've married you, but of course he was petty. For once your words had marked him.

It wasn't easy for Miguel either, Agustín seemed restless that day.

"I'll come for my horse later." You spoke as you gave the last suitcase at Miguel. William just gave you a dismissing nod.

Words were stuck in his mouth. He had never seen you this determined towards something. A sudden change he truly wasn't used to. Changes didn't sit well at all to him.

You didn't look back, instead just got in the car with Miguel and left. Leaving everything you knew behind. the thrill of a new adventure buzzing through your body. Miguel took your hand and kissed it with a puppy love eyes.

"Let's get married, Cerecita."

----

Taglist:

@thebettybook @allysunny @v4leoftears @brooklynscherry-z @lovingarcardeprincess @pinkiemme @bigbassbug @ceoofmiguel @loonalockley @nine-of-cherries @saph-cyare @mintqueenjo @arrozleche

Sorry if I forgot someone 😅

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Miguel Ranchero #t writes✨#telenovela fic #Spotify

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catbatart · 10 months

Text

Some of the honorable mentions include- Zataran's Jambalaya (I still love that shit,) condensed soup, piggies in a blanket/plain hot dogs, and crackers with peanut butter and cream cheese.

I've been thinking a lot about the food I grew up with. I was blind to the fact that my family wasn't in the best situation until I grew up and began talking to friends about this sort of stuff.

NOTE: This is meant to be a fun, silly, reminisce about poor kid food! Not any commentary or jab at anyone's socio-economic status or dietary choices!

#poll #food

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notthecommercialism · 1 month

Text

Alenoah thought to chew on a little

What if they were childhood friends that reunited on world tour?

Imagine if both of them used to be enrolled in this special gifted children program when they were like 6-7

And little Alejandro just breezing through the program, leaving everybody in the dirt except for one other participant there

Like they just have this entirely one sided academic rivalry as little children because Alejandro is fuming that there’s this other kid that always manages to score *slightly* higher than him hahahahahhahha

So at that age I’m assuming that while Alejandro can mask his emotions way better than the average 6-7 year old, he’s still a 6-7 year old so his thinly veiled envy is immediately picked up on by Noah

And then one day it just culminates to Noah point blank asking him “why are you so upset? It’s just a few marks at best.”

Tiny Spanish overachiever rendered speechless at his candidness because to him it *is* a huge deal while to his sworn rival (all in his head) those points are treated like nothing

Err ok this is actually getting longer than I anticipated but essentially it boils down to

Alejandro —> Noah

Seething childish fury at being bested mixed in with begrudging admiration at Noah’s capabilities. He can’t really tell if he wants to best him or be with him because everybody else in the program doesn’t catch his interest but Noah’s complacent attitude infuriates him—

Noah —> Alejandro

Just some uptight weirdo hahahahahahahah

Now this arrangement lasts for a few years? Maybe until they reach 10-11? Throughout the years they never really became close friends but they’re definitely familiar with one another since by that point, over half of the original group has since dropped out, leaving the highest scorers behind to continue on

Alejandro’s envy and admiration grew as well since Noah has consistently been the top of the class for years with him always getting second

However, he starts to notice Noah changing as well. He’s starting to fall asleep in lessons and he’s getting increasingly grouchy

It all comes to an end when Alejandro shows up one day and suddenly he’s now top of the class. He asks the teacher what happened to Noah and he’s told that he dropped out.

Yes, I’m putting that burnt out gifted kid energy into everything like it’s cheese on pasta

So now he has the position he’s always been vying for. Getting it like this feels a little hollow though.

Fast forward to world tour and Alejandro has the shocking realisation that the kid he used to look up to like an unattainable star turned into a giant sloth hahahahahaahahhahaha

This is just a small thought I’ve been thinking of. No clue what to do with it so here’s this post!

I just think these two having the dynamic of estranged childhood friends is pretty neat

#total drama #alenoah

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lilac-5ky · 8 months

Text

Roommates from Hell, pt.8 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 8: Nine to Five

Chapter 7 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

A/N: Don't come at me for the ending :)

Warning: fem. masturbation, sex toys, and mentions of explicit sexual content, MDNI!

“Again, thanks for everything, Shiu. Can’t even imagine what we would’ve done without you. No money, no car—”

“Don’t worry about it.” A loud chortle rumbled against the man’s chest as heavy smoke wafted from the cigarette dangling between his teeth. “Wouldn’t pass up the chance to see this failed Casanova humiliate himself for the world.”

Your exchange was cut short as Toji forced his way into the apartment, mumbling curses under his breath. You hadn’t made sense of a word he’d said since he gave into your pleas for calling for help (No way in hell we are hijacking a car, Toji!), refusing to acknowledge his friend’s kindness in the same hopeless way he refused to acknowledge their friendship.

You wondered what it was like between them when you weren’t around to calm the spirits. Neither screamed “chatty” exactly, and pulling words out of their mouths was slightly less excruciating than plucking out a wisdom tooth with pliers. Aside from work, they seemed to have little in common. Shiu’s pride and joy was his extensive collection of tropical fish, while Toji only knew the grilled mackerel you served with his rice every morning.

“You should stop by for dinner sometime. I’m sure Toji would—”

“He wouldn’t.” A gruff voice rang from a distance that defied an ordinary human’s hearing range.

You experienced all the embarrassment that came with excusing a difficult child’s behavior. But Shiu was understanding. After all, he and Toji went back even longer than you did.

“Make sure that idiot’s ready at 8. And tell him this is borrowed, not kept.” You received the garment bag from his hands and gently folded it over your arm. “Pulled enough strings to land him that job. He screws up; he’s on his own.”

You nodded, your curiosity beating him to the elevator. “What kind of job is it?”

“Zen’in didn’t tell you?” Shiu shook his head in amusement. “‘course he didn’t.” He flicked the cigarette butt and stubbed it with his sole, therefore mocking the no smoking sign on the concrete wall behind him.

“Look, don’t want any part in your sappy love story, but cut him some slack. That prideful bastard wouldn’t bow that stubborn head of his ‘less it was chopped off its place—you know how he is—yet he practically begged me to find his ass something respectful.”

Begged…?

“Point is, you don’t get into those companies without a bunch of glorified parchment, and a hit list doesn’t count as CV. He’ll have to work his way outta the mail room. He soaks up experience, and maybe he cracks it to sales. Just make sure he actually goes. Pay’s good, perks even better. Feel free to start pumping out kids.”

“You wouldn’t know why he needed the job, right?”

A cryptic smile accompanied him into the lift. Without answering, he reached for the crumpled Lucky Strike pack in his jacket’s inner pocket and pressed the button to the garage. The only times you saw him without a cigarette was in the short interval between his switching from a burnt-out to a new one.

“Eight sharp. Not a minute later.” He warned as he leaned back against the railing, fumbling with an unresponsive lighter. “Fucking ‘ell.”

You held the bag to your chest, practiced a small bow, and sincerely thanked him for all those years he took good care of Toji.

“Dinner offer’s still on! I can do Korean—how’s dakgalbi with lots of cheese sound?”

“Can’t believe how hard that bastard lucked out.”

The doors began to close before you could make out what he said, the final rings of smoke dispersing with his departure.

A trail of misplaced dirty laundry welcomed you into the apartment; slippers flipped and sweatpants scattered, with black boxers strewn outside the bathroom door like a doormat. You scrutinized the dried precum stain on the latter with near scientific interest, not being in any real hurry to stow them away until the water flow that streamed from the shower head dramatically decreased.

Shit, shit, fuck!

Sprinting across the hall, you dunked the clothes into the basket in time for Toji’s grand entrance with nothing but a towel his thumb and forefinger kept clipped low around his hip. Steam rolled in spirals from each contoured muscle that adorned his scarred skin, a light red coloring him from head to toe.

“That jackass left?”

You tried to block out the sensual slink of his hips as he strode to your shared wardrobe, focusing instead on the countless smudges that dressed your mirror. Still in view, he fished out a clean pair of boxers—one that he had no qualms changing into, the curve of his ass distinct as the fuzzy towel pooled around his feet.

“He—um.” Droplets of water rained from long obsidian strands while he shook off the excess moisture, the reflection of his jade eyes narrowing at the lack of follow-up. “What did you ask again?”

The sweet and spicy notes of a deodorant that could only be new took you by surprise as Toji towered over you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I asked, when did ya turn into such a perv?”

You deserved that.

“Like what you see?” His tone was more inquisitive than condescending, like your answer actually mattered to him.

Even after an entire night of touching each other, you doubted you could ever get used to being with someone whose body fit both the requirements of a marbled statue and an action movie star. You felt stupidly giddy, longing to squeeze your head between his pecs and lick him up like an overly affectionate pup who knew neither shame nor boundaries.

Admitting to it was a different thing.

“You should let me cut your hair.” You begrudgingly looked up. Not that his face didn’t bring out the same primal instincts. “People will think you descended from the mountains.”

“Didn’t ask about people. Only care about you.”

Fuck it.

“You turn me on.”

“Yeah?” His voice turned into a low purr, hooded eyes locked with yours up until your lips connected.

The pleasant warmth of his fingertips as they tipped your chin clashed with the cold, damp hair that tickled your cheeks. It went both ways. He showed you when he pushed your hands from the hard ridges of his stomach to the harder erection his underwear packed, firmly cupping your smaller palms against it.

“Wanna be inside you so badly.” Toji murmured, nipping at your bottom lip while you rubbed at his bulge, long strokes earning you little sighs of satisfaction. “Feel you wrap around me. The things I want to do to you—fuck.”

Wetness leaked from his slit, ruining yet another pair of underwear. He was so achingly sensitive, his balls twitching for the sweet release that would either quench or worsen his thirst.

Eight sharp. Not a minute later.

“You are gonna hate me.” Your palms traveled up his chest, mostly failing to put distance between your mouth and his, as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled your bodies together.

“Could never hate you.”

“Never?”

His tongue broke free from the kiss. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What did ya do?”

“Nothing!” You reassured him with a nervous smile, pecking his lips. “It’s just—it’s 7:30, you know?”

“Good. And I thought the telemarketing watch I ordered was lost in the mail.”

“Shut up!” You chuckled. “Shiu said I should have you ready by 8.”

“Don’t give a damn what he said.” Toji went back to littering your skin with kisses, starting from your cheek and slowly expanding to your neck. He tugged your shirt off your shoulder with his teeth, sturdy hips bucking against your flimsy shorts. “I can do with twenty minutes. No foreplay.”

“Toji—”

“Fifteen minutes.” His palm squeezed around your breast, wet tongue flicking right behind your earlobe. “Just bend over f’me and I’ll take care of the rest. Fuck you full with my cum.”

“Oh my god, Toji.” Your breath stuttered in your throat, your panties clinging to your slit as if you’d been standing under rain.

“Yeah? You’d like that?” He mouthed at your neck, sucking at least three more marks you had no way of concealing unless you scarfed up. “Ready to see what ten years of wanting to pound that pussy feels like?”

He practically begged me to find his ass something respectful.

He screws up; he’s on his own.

“Toji…”

His affections ran out at the same time his mood spoiled, forehead resigning against your shoulder. He knew what his name in that tone meant, and he hated it—more than you hated yourself for denying him.

“Y’are fucking killing me,” was the last thing he said before hopping into your bed, springs creaking beneath his weight. “Tell him I ain’t goin’.”

Of course he hadn’t bothered drying off, and of course your sheets soaked up the water from his body like a sponge. He buried his head in your pillow and stretched his limbs across the mattress. No sound. No movement. Like a corpse washed to the shore. He did say you killed him.

Such a baby.

You padded toward the bed and took a seat beside him, running your fingers through his choppy hair. He didn’t react. Not at first. You assumed this was him being pouty, but then you recalled all he had to deal with in the last 48 hours and felt incredibly sorry for him. Heading to work without a wink of sleep was the final nail in the coffin.

“What are you doing?” Green eyes blinked behind a veil of black as you brought the towel to his nape and gently wrung the lower tufts.

“You’ll get a crick in the neck if you nap with water in your hair.”

“Not trynna convince me to go?”

“Why would I? You said you’re not going and that’s it.”

Toji sat up against the headboard, the look on his face one of disbelief.

“I’m happy supporting you.” The bed dipped as you resumed your handiwork, brushing a strand away from his creased forehead. “It’s like having my very own kept man. Makes me feel rich.” You smiled.

He didn’t return it. But he did sigh. “We need money. Y’always whine about that.”

“You won’t hear me whine again. Besides, my schedule is too light. I can always ask that old man for a few extra shifts.” That was a lie. You bordered on exceeding the legal limit of working hours per week.

“And you’re fine with that.” He stated rather than asked, and when you didn’t reply, he simply rolled to the other side of the bed. “Fucking liar.”

“What happened to you not hating me?”

“I don’t. My balls do. They wanna smack your pussy.”

“You’re so damn vulgar!”

You still giggled as you nestled in the little pillow space he’d left, arm draped over his waist and fingers finding purchase somewhere between his abs. You kissed down his shoulders, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply into the scent laced through the pores of his skin. He’d gone a bit overboard with the quantity, but that wasn’t unheard of from someone who only used fragrance-free toiletries.

Still, it suited him.

“Said the tease.” He contemplated peeling your hand off him but decided against it when he felt you moving lower. Way lower than he thought you would without his guidance.

“Who said I’m teasing?” Your fingers dipped into the waistband of his underwear, feeling out the smoothness of skin and the coarseness of hair above the sole unexplored part of his body. “I want you, Toji. Not what you bring or don’t bring to the table. Just you. God, you’d probably laugh your ass off if you knew how much I actually want you.”

Tears prickled your eyes, swelling as emotion in your heart. Being this sincere scared you, especially with how rapidly your relationship was escalating. Ten years was a long time, and two days felt awfully short to recuperate all that was lost—to shake the image of his footprints slowly fading into snow eight years ago.

A hand closed around yours, thick fingers delicately squeezing between your knuckles, wary of the fresh nicks they donned. “I wouldn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Your voice a frail whisper made of glass. “I mean—”

“Because I want you more, dummy.”

“Didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“It is now.” Toji pulled your hand away from his body and pinned it to the mattress, his other arm crossing over your shoulders as he gently rolled you below him. “And I won.”

He gazed down at your face, all flustered with glassy eyes that fluctuated between overwhelming lust and unspoken worry. You think too much. You worry too much. You feel too much. He wanted to accuse you of every single one of those crimes but couldn’t find the words to do so, because he liked that about you.

He liked how your hands trembled with need when they touched him, how your voice broke like it couldn’t bear the weight of its words, how vulnerable and small you looked in his arms—but most of all, he liked what you breathed into him, what your puny fingers sculpted his soul into. Because he only ever liked himself when he was with you, and that was exactly why he wanted to offer you more than a tattered old shirt with rips around the seams.

“How much time?”

“Huh?” You gaped.

His scar twisted into a smirk as he lowered his face to yours—a crooked grin once you closed your eyes and puckered your lips in expectancy of his. So much more. He pressed down against your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip until his thumb slipped in and you gave his nail a firm, albeit painless, bite.

“Better not do that when my dick goes in there.” He tsked.

Immediately, you coughed out his finger along with an aggravated “Toji!”

“There she is,” the man in question chuckled. “Nearly had me fooled.”

You scoffed, part of you grateful that the tension between you was resolved, but not the part that showed. “If you must know, I spoke from my heart’s depths.” Your fist moved to your beating chest.

“Mhm, bet ya did.” Toji helped himself to a kiss, chaste enough for his tongue to remain in his mouth. “Sly wench.”

“Wench?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Prefer bitch?” He retorted.

“Wench is fine.”

The way his shoulder blades rolled while he was hunched above you had you sidetracking from the clock that ticked away your time. You figured he’d be an excellent salesman—supposing he made it to that point—because you were sold on staying there with him, spinning your entrapment by his bulky physique into the perfect excuse to play hooky. Sakurai would understand. Hopefully.

“Five. Lemme hold you for five minutes, and then y’are free to frill me up.”

You were the one who was now “killed,” and yet you accepted your death with grace as your positions were switched. Toji collapsed beside you, squeezing your clothed breasts against his naked chest (remorse for not ridding you of your shirt first) while you huddled together, legs tangled, and mouths inched too close not to meld into one.

For someone who claimed to do only what he wanted to, he succumbed to your will an awful lot.

“What’d you want a sly wench for?” You muttered, playing with the hair that hung low over his neck. “Regular wenches out of stock or something?”

“That eager to find out?” He drawled, both his voice and eyelids weighed down by exhaust. “I’ll show ya when I get back from work; everything a sly wench’s good for.”

“Sounds like quite the ordeal.”

“You’re a big girl. ‘m sure you can take it, and if not—well,” he ran his tongue along your lips. “No reason to talk about what ifs. You’ll be good for me, mm?”

“Depends on whether you actually put on the suit Shiu brought.”

“Women and your suits.”

“You said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I said.” Toji scoffed, one of his hands sneaking under your shirt. “You’ll make it up to me.” He decided.

“I told you, you can just not go.” You objected.

“Oh, really? And ya would’ve let me stay home without breaking my balls?” He let a beat pass and added, “Thought so.”

“What would thine royal ass favor?” You humored him with a fake, posh accent.

“I’m easy to please.” You held back a snort. “You’re gonna lemme doll you up with however many or few clothes I want. Fair?”

“Is that all? Doesn’t sound too bad—”

“And then,” he continued, his smirk as sharp as the teeth behind it, “you’ll lemme strip ya. Nice and simple, huh?”

“Your five minutes are running out!”

While Toji was off brawling with a pair of cufflinks, you relocated to the kitchen and brewed two cups of coffee, figuring he could do with a sip before heading out.

A pink sticky note awaited you on the counter, your sister’s messy handwriting begging you to call her as soon as your windpipe reopened—whatever that was supposed to mean. You crumpled it and tossed it in the trash, resuming your coffee-making duties. She wanted details you had no intention of discussing, especially when you didn’t even know what to call him anymore. You felt like no word was descriptive enough of your current status.

“Whatcha thinking about?” A hand snatched the spare cup from your grasp, scarred lips rounding around the searing rim.

You turned around to a Toji you’d never seen before. Surely, his thin eyebrows were drawn together in the exact same scowl he wore when you first showed him the black slim-fit suit of Shiu’s choice. His hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead in wet tufts. The rest of his body was also physically there, boxed inside the narrow lapels and shoulder bite of his jacket—but that was where the similarities ended.

The difference between the Toji you left in your bedroom a mere ten minutes ago and the sharply dressed man in front of you was that you didn’t feel the need to pay a ticket simply for the honor of staring at the former.

“Just admiring how handsome you look.” You straightened out the creases on his lapels.

“Yeah right.” Toji rolled his eyes, continuing to swig coffee. “Just saying that to get into my pants.”

“Please, if I wanted to get into your pants, all I’d have to do is ask.” You wiped his chin before the liquid got to drip down his collar, sparing him an earful.

“At this point, you wouldn’t need to ask.” He glanced down at his suffocating thighs, the seams around his crotch threatening to burst at any given time. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Looks like I’m in a damn sausage casing. ‘s too fucking small.”

“You’re just too big.” You smiled sympathetically, not realizing your blunder until that sly smirk you knew and hated (loved) made its reappearance. Oh no.

“Mm, am I?” Toji cooed, his smug tone making your fingers grab at the counter behind your back. “Even for you?”

You bit your lips into a straight line, your eyes following the hand that slotted a blue striped tie in your fist and ordered you to get it over with. He took a step back, allowing you to remove his jacket and loop the fabric once around his collar. That was pretty much the full extent of your tie-tying knowledge.

“Gonna keep staring at it?” He cracked under the pressure of your intense squinting.

“I… don’t know how to do it.” You admitted.

“Didn’t your dad wear one to work?”

“Didn’t yours?” An immediate glare. “Never mind. Forgot the Zen’ins are stuck in Edo period.”

He had nothing to say. The times when he sauntered around his family’s compound in that gloomy garb weren’t as far behind for him to forget they ever happened.

You carefully folded the tie in half and handed it to him. “Just ask Shiu to show you. But here, lemme—”

You fixed whatever minor detail could be fixed, combing his hair with your fingers, plucking out a couple of loose threads, and securing his cufflinks. He didn’t need the jacket. As long as no one gawked at his crotch, he passed as your average overworked thirty-year-old who’s yet to give up on their early retirement dream.

It was 7:58 when you and Toji argued over the few footwear choices in his possession. He settled for the combat boots he sported mostly during the winter, but scoffed once you reminded him you’d have to go shopping in the following days.

It was 7:59 when he lingered about the door frame like a harbinger of bad news who didn’t know how to break them down, eventually lifting a hand and giving your head a rough pat that suited a Pomeranian more than an actual human.

“Don’t miss me too much,” which in his language meant I’ll miss you.

“Remember Home Alone?” He nodded. Then he realized.

“Brat.” And with that, he hurried down the hallway, cussing at himself when his cellphone began ringing before he’d even caught the lift.

Your smile remained on your face as you closed the door and spotted the tie he’d accidentally left beside his mug.

I’ll miss you more.

You underestimated how much you would actually miss him.

Your first day apart was spent with you plugging every drain hole in the house. Toji might’ve told you to forget the incident ever happened, but even a regular centipede was capable of reducing you to tears. Curse or not, you weren’t prepared to confront another of those critters, and if peace of mind came at the cheap price of plastic, then so be it.

You didn’t have the chance to miss him yet.

At work, you kept staring at his vacant booth, wondering whether his workplace had a kitchen or a cafeteria—whether he had enough cash for a meal—and every time you did, you scolded yourself. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself without you babying him.

But you still hoped he’d call.

“You won’t believe what that new girl Noda did today.”

You made it home a little after sundown, Chinese takeout under one armpit and handbag under the other. “You’re gonna love this!” Chuckling, you kicked the door shut and stalked toward the kitchen, dropping both bags on the table with a labored huff. “Three words: vampire repellent fries. How someone mistakes garlic powder for salt is beyond me.”

No response. Weird.

You laid out the containers before casting a glance at the ongoing football match on your TV. A reel played between the first and second halves—mass hysteria from the crows that celebrated over their team’s scoring as opposed to the apathetic mop of tousled black hair that was spilled over your couch, expressing neither cheer nor jeer. Not even his usual grunt of acknowledgment.

“Did you not hear me? I said—”

Your eyes finally caught up with your mouth as you processed Toji’s sleeping form, his dress shirt unbuttoned and dangling from his slacks, with a belt unbuckled but not quite removed.

“To…ji?”

Again, nothing.

So much for a night of passion.

Rather than eating alone in the kitchen, you brought dinner to the couch and sat down beside him, secretly wishing the rich scent of Sichuan pork revived him. You switched to an overplayed romcom that’d otherwise have him barfing, only to find his content expression far more enticing than whatever vow the main couple exchanged.

When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

You watched over him as he stirred enough for his head to climb up your lap, a large palm engulfing your hip while he breathed in the bare skin of your thighs. More than once, you thought he was awake and tried to ask him about his day, but a snore was all you got in return, the quiet symphony eventually lulling you to sleep.

The rest of your life started when you met him.

Toji was already gone by the time you woke up, miraculously tucked under the covers of your bed, without an actual clue as to how you ended up there. The food you’d stashed in the fridge was gone with him, and so were your hopes of catching up over breakfast.

Your day was a reprise of the previous one. You drank coffee—alone. You did laundry—alone. You trapped a spider and carried it outside the window—alone. And then you met with your landlady—again, alone.

The house felt empty without his brooding figure leaning over the fridge to hurry you up; without his raspy voice calling you from across the house to fetch him the remote that lay on the coffee table; without his low whistles whenever you bent over to catch something from the bottom drawer. Things that once annoyed you, you’d started to miss.

On impulse, you drew your phone and began typing a message you deleted. He was finally acting responsible, and there you were, all butthurt because you didn’t get to talk to him for one day. Big deal.

You packed your bag and braced yourself for a torturous nine-hour shift at the diner, hanging onto the frail hope that once you closed shop, you’d be free to run to him.

Every kiss, every touch, every hug—every single moment of affection became a gale you rode on, reaching the apartment with your heart in your mouth. Surely enough, his shoes were parked by the front step. A good sign. The dubious smell of charred meat bubbling in a cauldron on the stove—not so much.

Hesitant to analyze the green broth’s origin, you searched for the dish’s chef in the other rooms, finding his remains splayed on your bed. Eyes shut, rumbling snore, and a tight grip around your pillow. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, convincing you that it was best to let him rest it out. You took off your clothes and squeezed in beside him, sleep not coming to you as easily as it did the night before.

You missed your conversations. The snarky remarks he’d have about his colleagues. The glint in his eyes that signaled his attentiveness, regardless of his snorting at everything he thought dumb. His bottled laughter. The suggestion in his tone. You’d never told him, but his voice was your favorite thing about him, and now you missed that too.

“Hope your dreams are worth it,” you mumbled against his shoulder, enveloping yourself in the warmth of his body even when you knew you’d wake up to a fistful of cold sheets.

That night, you missed him the most when he was right there with you.

“Not so fast, mister.”

If the sound of your voice wasn’t enough to stop Toji in his tracks, the Glock 22 aimed at his skull certainly was. He stepped away from the door, hands up in mock surrender, as a smirk carried him to where you stood in the middle of the living room, looking not-so intimidating in the pistachio-colored sleepshirt you’d hastily draped over your body.

“Where did ya find this?” He asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“I know you keep a gun taped under the nightstand.” You smiled, planting your fingers away from the trigger. “Busted.”

“Then y’know it ain’t loaded, right?”

“Really?” You thought you could tell by shaking it near your ear, only for Toji to leap forward and clasp your palms between his, directing the muzzle to the ceiling in the blink of an eye. “Thought you said it wasn’t loaded!”

“Hmm, let’s see.” The magazine popped out, empty except for a bullet he stowed in his pocket. “Won’t you look at that!” To your amazement (and horror), he reassembled the gun with a single move and returned it to you, defending himself with a “Shouldn’t trust a word outta your opponent’s mouth.”

“Art of war?” You pinched the grip and hurled it onto the couch. Sometimes you really questioned your decisions.

“More like, quit meddling with stuff you can’t handle. Although, if you threw some handcuffs into the mix,” he walked closer, pulling you onto him by the waist, “I could get behind this.” He kissed your lips and gave your ass a squeeze. “And that. Definitely that.”

Your fingers met behind his neck, heart fluttering in your chest. He smelled so nice. Just the right amount of intoxicating. “You’re all talk.”

“Missed me?” You nodded, unwilling to phrase those words out loud. “Then what’d ya want that gun for? Thought we got a lot friendlier these days.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Why?” His thumb brushed against your cheek. “Any plans to unfriend me?”

“Friends don’t do the things we do.”

“Really good friends do.” Toji insisted, his tongue slipping between your lips as if it never left—as if the past two days didn’t happen.

“Want more?” He tugged at your lip with his teeth. You weren’t sure whether he referred to kissing or something else, but whatever he offered, you wanted more of. “Me too.”

His cheek pressed against yours, burning with the same kind of fever you felt pooling in your stomach. You stayed like that for a good while, basking in the intimacy of an inconvenient hug until you felt bold enough to interrupt it. “If you ever avoid your girlfriend again, she’ll kill you.”

He huffed in your ear, then drew away after piecing a loose strand behind it. “My girlfriend can’t even use a gun.”

“Say it again.”

A grin.

“What part?” He asked coyly.

“You know what part!”

“Can’t even use a gun?” He sneered, holding your wrists as they tried to bat his chest. Your reddened complexion only added to his amusement. “Like being told you’re my girl?”

You didn’t answer him—a bad decision, really. It gave him the freedom to run his mouth on about how there were more things he could call you and a couple of other things you could moan back, sparing the details for the sake of the rising boner in his pants. While the premise excited you, the past two failures were hard to forget.

“And for the record, I wasn’t avoiding you.” Toji peered into your mind. A hand rubbed at the back of his neck, his dress shirt lifting from his slacks. “That place’s hell.”

“That bad? Is it the people, the job itself, or…?”

“Fucking everything.”

You could practically hear a can of worms cracking open; see the litany of complaints unfolding over your feet.

“Getting paid to spit on papers like a damn dog. My ass going sore from being glued to a chair all day long. Food tasting like coal briquettes. Dumb kids trynna strike a conversation every chance they get.”

“You poor thing!” You gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me they also smile at you!”

His glare betrayed him. “Place’s like a fucking kindergarten.”

“Better zip your dirty mouth in front of the kids, then.”

He frowned, and you laughed, genuinely happy that his coworkers seemed to welcome him—a sight you decided you wanted to see with your own two eyes sooner rather than later.

“I won’t be late.” Toji promised once you’d escorted him to the front door.

Your arms folded in front of your chest. Eyebrows arched. “Right.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure you do.”

A sigh. Poking fun at him was always so much fun.

“What about you?” He abided by his little ritual of leaning against the frame, his stance mirroring yours. Unhurriedly since he’d gotten an early headstart on his day. “‘Today’s your day off.”

That’s a first, you thought. He never asked about your plans.

“Oh, you know me. Pilates at 9; golf course at 12. Might go yachting around 5 if you don’t come back early.” You quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop fucking around.”

You poked his tongue at him, not wanting to admit that today would be ten times lonelier without a distraction, similarly to how you didn’t to spoil the surprise in the making.

Except your expression revealed something that your mouth didn’t.

Turning away from you, Toji began coughing like a cat with hair clogged in its throat, eventually spitting out a round, hairy lump of purple. Disgust was written in every line of your face, fading into recognition once the ball expanded into Wormie. The creature tried to wrap itself around its master, who seemed to have a better idea by offering it to you.

“Here. So you don’t die of boredom.” He explained.

You were skeptical at first, but Wormie robbed you of all options as he skipped to your arms and snuggled his head in the crook of your neck.

You never thought the day would come when you’d be hugging a worm, but the feeling wasn’t half as vile as one might expect. He had the weight of a feather and the scent of whatever bowl of cereal Toji had downed that morning. If you closed your eyes, you could think of him as a giant (exotic) pet.

“Hey there, little guy. Missed me?” You rubbed his back. Or what you thought was his back, anyway.

“Pretty sure he’s just trynna eat you up.”

“Shut up.” You glanced at Wormie’s mouth, just in case. “You’re simply jealous of what we have.”

“Sure.”

Satisfied with the image he left behind, Toji finally opened the door and walked out of the apartment.

“Don’t let that idiot get into trouble.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“And I wasn’t talking to you.” He smirked. “Later.”

A moment passed before his comment registered, long enough for the elevator gates to separate his snickering from your dissonant complaints.

“You’re such a lousy boyfriend!”

In the hours that followed, two things became apparent. One, you’d probably make for a decent parent, because when you instructed Wormie to sit quiet on the counter while you cooked a meal for Toji, he did as told without protest, and two, he was the greatest sous chef you could’ve ever asked for.

“Wormie! Pitch me the ladle,” you’d say, and a second later the item would fall in your hands.

Not just that. You could cut away vegetables without walking to the trash whenever the counter became clogged with scraps. Wormie ate up everything you fed him, whether that was onion peels, lettuce butts, or a spoonful of the stewed beef that had him singing toot after toot like a trombone.

Toji was right. It wasn’t as lonely with Wormie around. But he was dead wrong about his pet only obeying him. The second you wiggled those leeks, the little glut switched loyalties.

You wondered whether you could train him to give paw.

Stacking a bunch of Toji’s favorite side dishes inside a lunch box, you phoned the one person who could give you an address. Shiu picked up right away, his tone lax as he accused you guys of having his number on speed dial. You profusely apologized and carried his words to a piece of paper, renewing his dinner invitation with little to no zeal. You were grateful toward Shiu, but all you looked forward to was a weekend alone with Toji.

You hung up the phone and turned to Wormie, gesturing for him to gobble up the tupperware.

“Let’s go see your dad, mm?”

Toji’s workplace turned out to be an impressive thirty-story building on the outskirts of Minato. It belonged to one of the largest telecommunication companies in the country, with an enormous silver plate that bared its three-lettered logotype. Shiu did claim he pulled some strings, but a lobby big enough to double as a landing zone was not what you expected.

The guards at the entrance welcomed you with a curt bow, seemingly undisturbed by the worm that hitched a ride on your shoulders. You remembered what Toji said. The vast majority were incapable of sensing cursed energy around them, and those who did would rather question their sanity than accept the notion that the folktales their grandmothers fed them were real.

You gave Toji’s name to one of the girls at the front desk, who in turn asked her colleagues, but none of them seemed to know him. You weren’t surprised. Thousands of people paraded through these doors on a daily basis, their only accomplishment being the white collars around their necks. You either made it big or died as a nameless corporate slave. Neither celebrated nor remembered.

The receptionist did, however, point you to your destination and provide you with a visitor card. You followed her directions to the elevator, barely finding a spot for yourself in the crammed space that, little by little, cleared up. Your reflection stared back at you—inaccurate, as Worm was nowhere to be found, despite shrieking your ear off a minute ago when you accidentally prodded his tail.

This doesn’t make any sense.

You navigated the maze of cubicle offices before reaching the mail room at the end of the fourth floor. Most employees ignored your presence, while some straight-up shot daggers at you like you were an intruder. You failed to notice the sickeningly amiable smiles Toji described until you saw him surrounded by a bunch of high-heeled man-eaters who vied for his attention.

He was making copies for each of those women, taking away their excuse to loiter around the copy machine and stomping on their confidence with one-worded replies. The less dedicated ones sorted themselves out, while the true contenders stayed back to help him with his workload.

You wished you could get closer and enjoy the show, but you didn’t want to interrupt. Instead, you knelt by an empty desk and placed Wormie on the ground, ushering him in Toji’s direction.

“Make sure he gets it, and I’ll fight for your rights!” You spoke in a hushed voice. “Good boy, Wormie. Now go!”

Certain of your partner’s success, you dashed to the elevator, leaving both him and the company grounds behind for good.

It never occurred to you how much time you spent with Toji since he moved in. And it never occurred to you how long it’d been since you’d last touched yourself either—not until you were lying naked in bed, legs arched and hands stuffed between your thighs, guiding the rabbit vibrator in and out of your sopping cunt while you panted out his name in broken moans.

The hows and whys were unclear. All you remembered was stripping so you could change into a comfier fit, and the next thing you knew, your toy was calling out to you from its hiding spot, fully charged despite its extended period of inertia. You didn’t dare use it when Toji was home—and he was always home. His keen senses trained on you, slashing through every illusion of privacy your bedroom’s paper-thin walls provided.

But he wasn’t there now. And he wouldn’t be there for hours to come. And he looked so damn sexy in his suit, that all you could think about was ripping it off.

“F-fuck, Toji.” You turned the ears speed up a notch.

Each little buzz circulated through your body as tingles of pleasure that enhanced the fantasies your mind crafted. You pictured him leaning over you, wearing nothing but the tie he’d finally mastered. The cocky smile that’d stretch wide on his lips as he’d part your knees with big, veiny arms and stick a thick finger in your pulsing hole, asking you whether that was all for him even when he knew it could only be his—you were only his. He’d ask you to say it out loud; have you repeat it countless times while drilling his cock into your pussy, discovering depths that neither your fingers nor the silicone were capable of.

He’d suggested he was big. God, you’d gotten so close to seeing for yourself. You wanted to touch it, lick it, kiss, bounce on it so many times that the room began to spin around you. Even if it was big, you’d make it fit. Even if it was too big, you’d let him split you open.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you thrust the bunny upward, trapping your clit between the little ears that flicked rabidly in sync.

You needed him to fill you up. You needed to somehow justify all those years of starvation for him, his body, and his cum—you needed to feel it running down your trembling thighs, hot and sticky, as you milked every drop he had to offer.

The tension in your guts finally snapped as you focused on the three little words you longed to hear the most. You didn’t care whether he whispered, moaned, or grunted them out. You wanted to hear them in his voice at least once in your life. You needed him to be yours just as you were his—to love you like you loved him too.

The sweat on your forehead barely had the chance to cool down, when your eyes opened to a sight far more palpable than your crumbling high.

“Is this what ya do when I’m not around?”

A/N: next chapter will have smut, i'm not that ruthless.

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